“Y-YOU’RE GOING TO DISOWN ME JUST BECAUSE… I-I FAILED TO BE YOUR PERFECT DAUGHTER? JUST BECAUSE I COULDN’T MARRY THE ONE YOU CHOSE FOR ME?”
Hindi ko maiwasang makaramdam ng hinanakit dahil sa mga nasabi ni Daddy. Naiyak na lang din ako dahil sa bigat ng mga sinabi niya.
“You don’t understand, Calista. You should’ve just told me the truth instead of telling lies after lies. Nasubukan ko pa sanang intindihin ka---”
“No, Dad. You’ll try, yes. Pero hanggang doon lang. You never really got to understand me. Dahil para sa iyo, lahat ng gustuhin ko ay makakasira sa akin. While you, I have to do everything you want because that is what’s right.”
Hindi ko alam kung saan ako humugot ng lakas ng loob na sabihin iyon sa mismong harapan ni Daddy. I could see how he transitioned from being furious to being shocked. Even Monica’s face showed disbelief. Hindi ko naman sila masisisi dahil sa tanang buhay ko ay ngayon lang ako naglakas ng loob na sagutin at kontrahin si Daddy. I was always “Miss Well-Behaved”, “Miss Polite”, and “Miss Obey”. I never got the strength to oppose him. But not anymore. Ngayon pa na nakatakda niyang kuhanin ang dalawang natitira na nga lang na totoo sa pagkatao ko---ang pagkagusto ko sa fashion at si Calvin.
“All my life, I tried to obey you. Kahit noong kasama pa natin si Mommy. My life, your rules. Lahat ng iyon, sinunod ko without saying anything, not even a single “but”. Lahat ng gusto niyo at tingin niyong tama para sa akin, ginawa at sinunod ko. I followed every single rule you set for me. Just for me. While you, you got to live being able to take and live with everything you want. You neglected me when you were grieving about my mom’s passing? You heard nothing from me. Noong si Ayi na ang halos umako ng responsibilidad sa pag-alalay sa akin, I thought nothing against you. Then you built yourself with… some random girl and her daughter, without knowing and considering how would that affect me. Pero may narinig ka bang pagtutol sa akin? Wala.
Now that I got to live my life with what I am passionate about and with the man I truly love, hindi niyo man lang ako masuportahan. That’s why I kept it a secret from you, Dad. Sa inyong lahat! Dahil alam kong hindi niyo ako maiintindihan. Not like Ayi---”
“Alam ni Hana ang tungkol dito?!” sigaw ni Daddy.
Hindi ako sumagot. Napapitlag na lang ako nang marinig kong magmura si Daddy.
“I gotta go,” paalam niya pagkatapos. “And you, Calista. Think of your decisions in life, young lady---”
“Wala na akong pag-iisipan pa, Dad. For once and for all, susundin ko naman kung ano ang totoong magpapasaya sa akin,” deklara ko.
Ilang sandali na nabalot ng katahimikan ang paligid.
“Then, I have to cut your connections among Sy. Wala akong anak na bulag sa walang kwentang pangarap at sa lalaking…” Hindi niya tinuloy ang anumang sasabihin niya pa. “Mahal kita, Calista. Pero---”
“No, you don’t love me, Dad.” I interrupted him. “Kasi kung mahal mo talaga ako, there will be no “buts”. At susuportahan mo ako sa gusto kong gawin sa buhay ko as long as wala akong natatapakan na ibang tao o navi-violate sa batas ng tao at ng Diyos. There’s no harm in being a fashion designer, or standing for the man I chose to love. Simpleng bagay lang pero hindi niyo na ako kayang suportahan. What you have for me is not a fatherly love. It was just out of your convenience and the fear of what others might tell you. And you, threatening to disown me just because of some lame reasons, just proved that you don’t love me enough as your daughter. At sorry, pero sa sampung taon na nakasama ko si Mommy, tinuruan niya ako kung paano hindi maging bare minimum enjoyer.”
Hindi ko na siya hinintay na makasagot pa. Nagkusa na akong maglakad palayo sa kanya, palabas ng office niya.
Mabigat ang loob ko at masakit para sa akin ang mga nangyari. Pero hindi ko alam kung bakit parang mas naging magaan ang pakiramdam ko ngayon. Maybe because I was able to finally stand for what I want? Because I was able to show the real me, at last?
Napahinga ako ng malalim.
Matapos ang paglalakad ng ilang sandali ay natagpuan ko ang sarili ko na nasa parking space ng building na pag-aari namin---ni Arnaldo Sy. Muntik ko nang makalimutan, he just disowned me. At kung iniisip niya na ita-take ko iyon bilang isang malaking “joke” ay nagkakamali siya. I will take it in the most serious manner. At ipapamukha ko sa kanila, lalo na sa mag inang Margaret at Monica na for sure ay magpa-party na any minute from now, na kakayanin ko pa ring mag isa. I would show them how unstoppable I am.
Napangisi ako.
I was about to ride on my car when suddenly, I stopped. Inihagis ko ang susi ng kotse sa loob bago ko muling isinara ang pinto niyon. The first step of walking away from a toxic family is to never use the thing they got for you. At sisimulan ko ang akin sa pag-abandona sa sasakyang iniregalo sa akin ni Daddy noong sixteenth birthday ko.
***
MATAPOS KONG IWAN ANG SASAKYAN KO---NO, ANG DATI KONG SASAKYAN SA PARKING LOT NG BUILDING AY NAGLAKAD-LAKAD NA AKO PARA MAGHANAP NG PAMPUBLIKONG SASAKYAN NA MASASAKYAN KO PAALIS.
Hindi naman na rin ako bago sa pagco-commute dahil sa tuwing pumapasok ako sa Contessa Fashion School ay iniiwan ko lang ang sasakyan ko sa isang pay-to-park na space, tsaka ako sumasakay sa pampublikong tricycle at jeep. Pagkatapos noon ay binabalikan ko na lang ang sasakyan ko kapag padilim na at pauwi na ako.
“O, Calista? Sabado ngayon, ‘di ba? May pasok ka?”
Napatingala ako sa tricycle driver na nasakyan ko nang bigla itong magsalita sa pamilyar na boses.
“Kuya Tirso?” pagkumpirma ko.
Tawa lang ang isinagot nito sa akin. Siya nga.
Si Kuya Tirso ang madalas kong masakyan tuwing pupunta ako sa sakayan ng jeep papunta sa CSF. Sadyang mabait siya sa mga nagiging pasahero niya, palakuwento rin kaya napalapit na rin ako sa kanya. And it’s also because of him that I knew someone whom I considered too as my friend, si Pamela na anak niya.
“Hindi ko po kayo nakilala. Iba kasi ‘yung tricycle na dala niyo ngayon, eh,” dahilan ko.
“Napansin mo rin pala,” tugon niya. Bakas sa boses niya ang pait. “Nga pala, saan ka ba papunta? Wala namang pasok ngayon dahil Sabado, ‘di ba?”
Napatango ako.
“Hatid niyo na lang po ako kina Calvin,” sabi ko pa at bahagyang ngumiti.
Mula sa salamin ng motor ng tricycle niya ay kitang-kita ko kung paano tinaksan ng kulay ang mukha niya. Bahagya rin siyang napatulala, bagay na ipinagtaka ko.
“Sigurado ka ba riyan?”
Kunot ang noong napatango lang ako. “O-Opo naman. Bakit? May problema po ba kina Calvin ngayon?”
Ilang bahay lang kasi ang pagitan ng bahay nina Calvin at ng bahay nila. And if I am not mistaken, kaibigan din yata niya ang mga magulang ni Calvin. Maliit na baryo lang din ang kinaroroonan ng mga bahay nila kaya sigurado akong kung may gulo man sa bahay nina Calvin ay malalaman niya agad. And that may be the reason on why it seems like he’s a little bit hesitant when it comes to me going to my boyfriend’s house.
“A-Ah, wala naman. Sige, ihahatid kita roon. Huwag mo na akong bayaran dahil doon na rin naman ang punta ko, pauwi na rin ako,” saad niya mayamaya.
Nagpasalamat na lang ako at umayos ng upo habang naghihintay na makarating kami sa aming destinasyon.
Hello, guys! I just wanna let you know that this story is just the first among our first-ever Trilogy entitled "RICHES, RAGS, AND RICHES". If may comments/suggestions/feedback kayo, 'wag kayong magdalawang isip na mag-iwan ng SAY and promise, babasahin ko po iyan isa-isaaa! Hoping for your support, mga miii<3 Will be dropping my socials soon dito rin sa A/N para makapag-interact pa tayo lalo. Lablots sagaaadddd!
MARGARET'S P. O. VThe funeral was a grotesque parody of mourning. I stood, impeccably dressed, a picture of serene composure amidst the displays of feigned grief. Arnaldo’s death had been swift, efficient, a mere footnote in my relentless pursuit of power. His vast fortune, now mine, was merely a stepping stone, a foundation upon which I would build my empire.The days that followed were a whirlwind of legal maneuvering, financial transactions, and ruthless consolidation of power. I moved swiftly, decisively, silencing any opposition with a mixture of charm and intimidation. Those who questioned my actions, those who dared to challenge my authority, found themselves swiftly and unceremoniously removed from the equation. Their fate served as a warning to others, a chilling reminder of the consequences of defiance.My daughter, Monica, reveled in our newfound power, her ambition mirroring my own. She was a loyal pawn, a ruthless instrument in my ascent, her eyes gleaming with the same
MARGARET'S P. O. VThe scent of lilies in my opulent bathroom did little to mask the stench of betrayal that clung to me. My reflection stared back, a stranger in a mask of composure. My new lover, Julian, was everything Arnaldo was not: young, vibrant, impossibly wealthy. Arnaldo, with his aging body and dwindling fortune, had become an anchor, a relic of a past I was eager to discard. He was nothing more than a means to an end, a stepping stone to a life of even greater luxury and power. And now, it was time for him to step aside.The plan was simple, yet elegant in its cruelty. A "car accident," staged with precision and discretion. It wouldn't be a blatant act of violence, nothing easily traceable back to me. Just a tragic mishap, a twist of fate. The perfect crime.Days bled into weeks, each moment a meticulous dance of preparation. I subtly shifted funds, creating a paper trail that pointed away from me, towards my old enemy, Niccolo Fibonacci, still languishing in prison. It wa
MARGARET'S P. O. VThe years that followed were a blur of opulence and carefully calculated risk. Arnaldo’s wealth had become our playground, a source of endless luxury and power. But it wasn't enough. The thrill of the game, the adrenaline rush of manipulating others, had become addictive. I craved more, something beyond the confines of our carefully constructed world. That's where the Fibonacci Mafia came in.They were a powerful organization, their tentacles reaching into every corner of the city's underbelly. I'd initially approached them cautiously, offering my services as a financial advisor, a seemingly innocuous role that allowed me to infiltrate their inner circle. My charm, my intelligence, my ruthless ambition quickly won their trust. I learned their secrets, their weaknesses, their intricate network of operations. I became an indispensable part of their operations, privy to their most sensitive information.But my ambition knew no bounds. I wasn't content to be merely a pl
MARGARET'S P. O. VThe wedding was a spectacle, a lavish affair that masked the cold calculation that had orchestrated it. Arnaldo, still bearing the scars of grief, looked like a man walking through a dream, his eyes holding a strange mixture of sorrow and something akin to… contentment. Contentment that I had carefully cultivated, nurtured, and manipulated. My own daughter, Monica, stood beside me, a picture of innocent obliviousness, unaware of the darkness that fueled our ascent.The mansion was opulent, even more so than I remembered. It was a gilded cage, a testament to Arnaldo's wealth, a prize I had finally claimed. I stood in the master bedroom, gazing out at the sprawling gardens, a triumphant smile playing on my lips. Isabella’s presence was completely erased, her belongings gone, her memory relegated to a distant, inconvenient past. This was my victory, my conquest, my reward for a meticulously planned campaign of manipulation and deceit.Arnaldo, now my husband, was a sha
MARGARET'S P. O. VThe polished mahogany of Arnaldo Sy’s office felt different this time, heavier, draped in a somber veil of grief. The air hung thick with unspoken sorrow, a stark contrast to the usual crisp efficiency that permeated the space. Arnaldo sat behind his large desk, his shoulders slumped, his face etched with a weariness that went beyond simple fatigue. He looked older, broken, the vibrant energy that had once characterized him extinguished, replaced by a hollow emptiness.I approached him slowly, my movements deliberate, my expression carefully crafted to convey sympathy and concern. The news of Isabella’s death had been plastered across every news outlet, a spectacle of tragedy that I had orchestrated with cold precision. Now, I would play the role of the sympathetic friend, the comforting presence in his time of need. My heart, however, felt strangely devoid of emotion, a cold, calculating engine driving my actions.“Arnaldo,” I said softly, my voice laced with a car
MARGARET'S P. O. VThe champagne was cold, the crystal flute elegant in my hand, but the celebratory mood felt hollow, a thin veneer over the churning anxiety within me. I sat alone in my opulent apartment, the city lights a blurred spectacle outside my window. The silence was deafening, a heavy blanket smothering the usual vibrant hum of the city. It was a silence pregnant with anticipation, a silence that screamed louder than any celebration.The news had been sparse, deliberately vague. A small chartered plane, en route to a remote region, had gone down. Details were scarce, the investigation ongoing. But I knew. I knew what had happened, what I had orchestrated. The weight of my actions pressed down on me, a crushing burden of guilt and exhilaration.My phone lay beside me, a cold, inert object. I longed for it to ring, to break the suffocating silence, to bring confirmation, to bring closure. But the silence persisted, stretching into an eternity of agonizing suspense. Each tick