Magic Realism

After my granddaughter is bullied by her classmates, the bully's family not only refuses to apologize but behaves arrogantly as well. Since they have connections in the city, the school doesn't dare intervene. I turn to the police, but they only urge me to let it go. The bully's family even boasted that they have people in the court, daring me to sue them. With every path to justice cut off, I have no choice but to take out the two Medals of Honor left behind after my son and daughter-in-law died in service, and kneel at the gates of the military compound. Six years ago, when the general personally delivered those medals to our home, he'd said, "Your son and daughter-in-law gave their lives for the country. They are heroes, martyrs, and the pride of our nation." But now, I want to ask him again. Why is it that when a martyr's daughter is bullied, no one protects her?

My father suffered from serious manic depression. When I was eight, my house was robbed and my mother was killed. I became blind while shielding my father from being stabbed. I became the only solace for my father after that. Anyone who hurt me would suffer my father's wrath. When my classmate made fun of me for being blind, her thermos suddenly exploded a few days later and she was blinded. When the class bully targeted me, he was found lying in an alley the next day. Something had dropped on him from a high building that broke his limbs. Not long after, my father achieved great success in his career. He was known for being a sharp businessman. I continued to be the most important person to him. Whoever dared touch a hair on me was as good as dead. I was lucky that a top medical research center overseas successfully came up with a treatment to restore my eyesight. On the day they removed my bandages, I received my father's wedding invitation. [Rina, I found you a new mother. We'll both dote on you when you come home.] My father told me how gentle and kind my new mother was and how much he looked forward to us meeting each other. I was touched and specially prepared a present for her. However, she instructed her bodyguards to abduct me and bring me to an abandoned factory. "Of all the things to learn in life, how dare a young girl like you learn to seduce another woman's husband? How shameless! How dare you steal something that belonged to my husband's late wife? I'll skin you alive!" My present was flung to the ground and destroyed. She ordered her bodyguards to force themselves on me and broke my bones. She skinned me alive and put plaster all over me to turn me into a statue. She then put me into an exquisite gift box to give to my father as a surprise. "Sweetheart, this is the vixen you've kept hidden from me. I turned her into an angel statue. You can see her every night if you put her in your bedroom. You won't need to sneak out to see her.

The day I decided to donate my body to science, my family gathered around my adopted sister, Hailey, celebrating her acceptance into a cutting-edge experimental treatment program. The one with brain cancer was supposed to be me. But Hailey used my husband Zane's position at the hospital to swap her healthy medical records with my terminal diagnosis, stealing the one chance I had to survive. And the worst part? Everyone cheered her on. The pain became too much. I fought to stay present, only to overhear the nurses whispering, "It's a good thing Dr. Zane secured that spot for Hailey. They said she only had three days left." So, in the last 72 hours of my life, I quietly let go of everything. When I gave Hailey the original manuscripts of my novels I had poured my heart and soul into, my father and brother gave me a satisfied smile. When Zane decided to grant Hailey her dying wish by marrying her, he handed me the divorce papers. I signed without a moment's hesitation. He sighed and praised me for finally being "so reasonable." And when I was the one who coaxed our daughter, Olivia, into calling Hailey "Mommy," Olivia gushed that her new mom was the best. "Don't worry," Zane soothed. "We're just keeping it safe for now. Once she's gone, it'll all come back to you." I gave Hailey everything I had, just like they wanted. So why, when they find out this was all Hailey's vicious lie, do they come crying, saying I'm the one they wanted all along?

My husband was praised by my friends as the perfect husband in the world. Everyone said he loved me to death and practically put me on a pedestal. Then came my prenatal checkup. My older cousin, Catherina Bow, called him with a farewell message before attempting suicide. Without hesitation, he abandoned me and rushed off in panic. I was six months pregnant at that time. My mother expected me to be the bigger person and “lend” my husband to Catherina, who was depressed. My brother snapped at me, "The only reason you’re still in this house is because Catherina spoke up for you. Whatever she wants, you should give it to her!" I found it absurd. I was supposed to be their family. She was nothing but a cuckoo in my nest. When I finally decided to walk away from all of them, they regretted their actions.

Dad attends a banquet with his ex-girlfriend, and they make headlines. Everyone mocks Mom for this, saying that she hasn't gotten anything out of her relationship with Dad. They make fun of her for giving up her successful career for his sake to end up with nothing—she can't even tell a homewrecker off. Mom looks at me tiredly after bawling her eyes out. "He let me down first, so I don't want him anymore. Do you want to leave with me, Rosie?" Just then, my phone pings. I've received a text from my boyfriend of seven years. "I'm just going through the motions and registering my marriage with someone else, Rosalie. You'll still be my girlfriend!" After a brief silence, I nod and tell Mom I'll leave with her. On the day of the double weddings, Mom and I disappear after a fire at our villa.

My sister is diagnosed with leukemia after a medical checkup at the hospital where I work. My bone marrow is a match for her. Out of curiosity, I tell my family I'm the one who's sick. They vehemently oppose to her donating her bone marrow to me. "A bone marrow donation is risky! We can't let your sister put herself in danger." "Don't drag your sister into this just because you're sick. Everyone's life and death is fated—you have to accept your destiny." My sister also refuses to help me, brushing me off with the excuse that she's preparing to conceive. My relationship with my family is strained, so their behavior thoroughly destroys it. When I realize this, I leave the diagnosis report behind and walk out on them.

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."

Dalawang taon na ang nakakaraan, pinilit ako ng nanay ko na makipaghiwalay sa boyfriend ko para palitan ang kapatid niya at pakasalan ang kanyang bulag na fiance. Dalawang taon ang nakalipas, bumalik ang paningin ng asawa kong bulag. Pagkatapos, hiniling ng nanay ko na ibalik ko siya sa kapatid ko. Tiningnan ako ng masama ng tatay ko. “Huwag mong kalimutan na fiance ni Rosie si Ethan! Sa tingin mo ba karapatdapat kang maging asawa niya?” Mamamatay na din naman ako. Kay Rosalie na ang posisyon ng pagiging Mrs. Sadler kung gusto niya! Hihintayin ko na karamahin sila kapag patay na ako!

Three years after our breakup, I ran into my ex-girlfriend, and she had her new boyfriend by her side. "Hey, isn't that Henry the expert?" Diego Stanley taunted with a smirk. "Three years post-breakup, and you're slumming it here playing with clay?" I furrowed my brow, ignored them, and carefully moved the Victorian-era porcelain musician figurine onto its preset base in the display case. When I wasn't biting, he reached out to grab the figurine from my arms. "What's this junk you're treating like gold? Let me take a look." Cynthia Wyatt frowned, her voice laced with that familiar arrogance. "Henry, I've given you three years to shape up, and you're still the same loser? Come on, hand over that clay doll to Diego. Don't kill the vibe. If you play nice, I might even reconsider our old engagement." As Diego's hand neared the figurine, I dodged quickly and barked, "Hands off! It's a historical artifact!" Diego got pissed off and shoved me hard. "Some flea market find, and you're acting all high and mighty?" In the ensuing scuffle, I lost my balance, and the figurine slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor. That sealed their fate. This entitled pair was about to go bankrupt trying to fix it.

The day of my wedding photoshoot, my family's adoptive daughter tugs my veil off and asks loudly, "Aren't you our family's adoptive daughter? What are you doing here? Today's the day Ian and I are supposed to have our wedding photoshoot. Aren't you going to disgrace Ford Group by being here?" In the past, I would've run away in tears. Unfortunately for her, I'd been reborn. I slapped Aspen Miller and retorted, "What right do you have to speak to me? Who do you think you are, having a wedding photoshoot with Adrian? Are you worthy of being associated with Ford Group?"