Ara
I glanced at him again, noting the slight pallor beneath his sun-weathered skin and the way he sometimes pressed a hand to his chest when he thought I wasn't looking.
His heart condition wasn't something we talked about often, but it hovered between us like a shadow—fragile, unspoken. What if my fears became a burden too heavy for him? What if the truth made him worry, strained him, and then… what if he disappeared too?
"Ah…" He nodded slowly, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar way of his. A small, understanding smile touched his lips, though his eyes lingered on me a second longer than usual, as if searching for cracks in my carefully built façade.
"Is that so? Well, don't push yourself too hard." I'll make us some coffee before I head out for my walk. You want eggs?"
I managed a nod, my throat tight. As he turned toward the kitchen, his footsteps steady but careful, I stood there in the hallway, gripping the edge of the doorframe.
The weight of unsaid words pressed heavier than ever. One day, I told myself, I would find the courage. But not today. Not when his health hung in such delicate balance. For now, I would carry the truth alone—just a little longer.
He was about to turn away when my voice stopped him.
"Dad… do you still have your medicine?" I asked softly, my tone gentle but insistent.
My father paused in the doorway, then turned with a warm, knowing smile.
"Yes, I bought a fresh bottle just yesterday," he replied, his voice rich with affection. "Thank you, dear. You always remember what I forget."
"You're welcome, Dad." my words caught in my throat as I stepped closer. "You know how much I love you."
Tears welled up in my eyes before I could stop them. He noticed immediately, his brow furrowing with gentle concern.
"Oh, why are you so emotional today?" he chuckled softly, though his eyes searched mine with quiet worry. "You really are my sensitive girl."
He closed the distance between us and cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek with the familiar, calloused tenderness I had known all my life. Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his chest.
I wanted so badly to tell him everything that had happened in the past few days: the fear, the confusion, the weight I carried alone. But the words stayed locked inside. I couldn't risk it. Not when even the slightest shock could send his heart into dangerous territory.
"That's enough, dear," he murmured, though he didn't pull away. Instead, his fingers moved slowly through my long, dark hair, combing it with the same loving care he had shown since I was a little girl. "You'll make your old man cry if you keep this up."
"I love you, Dad," I whispered, tightening my embrace. My voice trembled with the depth of feeling I could never fully express. He had raised me alone, pouring every ounce of his heart into mine without complaint. No mother's arms had ever held me, yet his love had always been more than enough—steadfast, unconditional, and impossible to repay, even if I gave him my whole life in return.
He held me for a long moment, one hand gently patting my back.
"Why are you so emotional this morning?" he asked again, softer this time, tilting my chin up so he could see my face.
I managed a small, watery smile and shook my head.
"Nothing, Dad. Really."
He studied me for a second longer, as if he didn't quite believe me, but chose not to press. Instead, he gave me cheek a light, playful pinch, the way he had done since I was small.
"Alright then. Get ready for school. Don't forget your daily tasks before you leave—breakfast, watering the plants, and feeding the fish. You know the routine."
I nodded, lingering in his warmth for one final second before stepping back. Even as I turned toward my room, the unspoken fears still lingered in my chest, heavy and silent.
He released me from the embrace, his strong arms loosening with a gentle reluctance before he turned away. Without another word, he stepped out of the house into the crisp morning air, the screen door clicking softly shut behind him.
I remained rooted in place, my gaze following the familiar lines of his broad shoulders as he moved toward the backyard to begin his workout. Even from a distance, I could sense the deliberate control in his movements—he was avoiding letting me see the emotion flickering across his face.
In my heart, I knew why. He was a good father, the steadfast anchor of my world, and the only man I had ever loved so completely. As a child, I had sought his approval in every small gesture, performing little acts just to see that quiet pride light up his eyes.
Now, as I grew older, I vowed to reciprocate that love tenfold. I would care for him with every ounce of strength I possessed, cherishing him until his very last breath.
Shaking off the lingering tenderness of the moment, I sprang into action. The daily morning routine unfolded with practiced efficiency—brewing coffee that filled the kitchen with its rich aroma, preparing a simple breakfast, and gathering my school things. I moved with purpose, determined to be ready in time.
Two hours later, Joy and I stood at the front door, backpacks slung over our shoulders, uniforms crisp and hair neatly arranged. I felt a quiet wave of relief at not having crossed paths with the siblings that morning. With Joy's quiet assistance and a few well-timed distractions, we had managed to slip through the house unseen.
"Nathan and Crissy left earlier," Joy murmured as we approached the car. "They took the other vehicle."
A flicker of gratitude washed over me. It was better this way. After the unexpected kiss Nathan had given me the night before—warm, impulsive, and charged with unspoken tension—I still had no idea how to face him, let alone share a quiet car ride to school.
I reached for the passenger-side door and pulled it open, only to freeze in surprise. There, seated comfortably inside, were Crissy's parents—the couple I had least expected to see at this early hour. Their warm smiles greeted me instantly, lighting up the interior of the car.
"Good morning," I said, my voice brightening as I offered them my sweetest, most genuine smile. I slid into the seat with renewed warmth, the earlier awkwardness melting away under their kind presence.
The couple had always been exceptionally gracious toward us, treating Joy and me with the same gentle affection they showed their own children. Their refined manners and quiet generosity filled the car like sunlight.
Crissy had clearly inherited not just their features, but the deep well of kindness that defined her family. In their company, the morning felt lighter, steadier, as if the day ahead held nothing but promise.
"Good morning, Sir Benedict and Madam Lucia," I said warmly, offering them a bright, respectful smile as I settled into the car.
Madam Lucia's eyes sparkled with genuine affection. "You are more beautiful than the morning itself, Ara. Your smile is positively radiant—it could light up the entire day."
Her words wrapped around me like a soft, flattering embrace. A gentle blush rose to my cheeks.
Sir Benedict chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. "Yes, indeed. Arthur is a very lucky man to have such a beautiful, intelligent, and kind-hearted daughter. You make him proud every single day, young lady."
At his compliment, I glanced toward the driver's seat. My father's smile widened noticeably, the corners of his eyes crinkling with quiet pride. Seeing that expression on his face filled my chest with warmth. Even I felt a surge of happiness at Sir Benedict's kind words—praise from someone I respected so highly meant more than I could express.
"Come on now, you'll be late for school," my father reminded us gently, his voice carrying that familiar mix of authority and care.
We quickly climbed into the spacious car. I slid into the back seat beside Madam Lucia, breathing in the faint, elegant scent of her perfume. Joy followed right after, settling comfortably next to me. The leather seats were cool and luxurious against my uniform.
As the car began to move smoothly down the driveway, curiosity got the better of me.
"Are you going somewhere this morning, Madam?" I asked politely, wondering why they were out so early.
Madam Lucia turned to me with a graceful smile. "Ah, yes. We're heading up to Baguio today. We have an important meeting to attend there."
I blinked, slightly surprised. "Will my father be coming with you?"
Sir Benedict glanced back from the front passenger seat, shaking his head.
"No, not this time. We'll be taking the company bus with the rest of the staff. Your father has things to handle here."
A quiet sigh of relief escaped my lips. I hadn't realized how tense I had felt until that moment. Baguio was a long, winding journey through the mountains—exhausting even for the strongest. I didn't want my father pushing himself too hard.
More than that, there was a selfish comfort in knowing I would still see him every day, that steady presence waiting for me when I returned home. The thought made my heart feel noticeably lighter.
The car continued its gentle glide through the quiet morning streets, the soft hum of the engine blending with the warmth of good company. For now, everything felt perfectly in place.
When we finally arrived at school, Joy didn't waste a second. The moment the car door closed behind us, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me briskly toward the quiet, shaded area at the back of the campus. I let myself be led without resistance, my heart already beating faster. I knew exactly why she was in such a hurry.
We reached a weathered wooden bench tucked beneath a cluster of old acacia trees, far from the morning chatter of arriving students. Joy sat down first and patted the space beside her. As soon as I settled next to her, she turned to face me fully, her eyes wide with anticipation.
"Now, tell me everything," she demanded gently but firmly. "What really happened to you last night?"
I hesitated, my fingers twisting nervously in my lap.
"J-Joy… I don't even know where to start," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. She studied my face carefully.
"I saw Nathan when you got home last night. He looked… different. Did he do something to you? Something bad?"
I reached for her hand and held it tightly, my gaze locking onto hers with serious intensity. My lower lip trembled as I bit down on it, trying to steady the rush of nerves flooding through me. The memory of the previous night still felt too fresh, too raw.
I took a deep breath. "Joy… Nathan kissed me last night."
A stunned silence hung between us for a second.
"I didn't want it," I added quickly. "I was completely shocked. It happened so suddenly… I didn't know how to react."
"That idiot!" Joy burst out, her voice sharp with anger. "He really took advantage of you!"
"No… it wasn't like that," I said softly, surprising even myself by defending him. I looked down at our joined hands, my cheeks warming. "Maybe you were right… maybe he does like me. I could feel how much emotion was behind it. He didn't seem like he was trying to hurt me."
I paused, the strange flutter I had felt after the kiss returning like a quiet echo in my chest. Part of me was still confused, even unsettled. Yet another part — one I didn't fully understand — kept replaying the moment with a confusing mix of nervousness and warmth.
"I need to talk to him," I murmured, more to myself than to Joy. "I want to hear why he did it. I deserve an explanation."
Joy exhaled slowly, squeezing my hand in quiet support, though her expression remained protective. The morning breeze rustled the leaves above us, carrying the distant sounds of students laughing and bells ringing in the background.
For now, the secluded corner of the school felt like a safe haven — a place where I could finally begin to untangle the whirlwind of emotions Nathan had left behind.