Ar. Jaron drove, his hands steady on the wheel, navigating the long road from Manila to Bataan with an air of focus that betrayed the concern in his eyes each time he glanced at me in the rearview mirror. Architect Carlo sat beside him, quietly coordinating our arrival with subtle phone calls and murmured instructions.

Ang daan ay humaba sa aming harapan, paikot-ikot sa mga pamilyar na bayan at kanayunan na halos hindi ko namamalayan. My gaze was fixed out the window, unseeing, my thoughts lost in the hollow echo of my mother's hesitant voice on the phone. Parang napakatagal na ng panahon, ngunit ang mga salita ay patuloy na umuugong sa aking mga tainga, ayaw maglaho.

Now, sitting in Ar. Jaron's car, the weight of it pressed down on me, suffocating and cold.

As we drove through Mariveles, the sights of my hometown, which once brought warmth and memories, felt foreign. The roads I knew so well seemed shrouded in a fog, blurred by the weight of reality pressing down on me. Architect Carlo, with his familiar calm demeanor, glanced at me in the rearview mirror, concern etched in the furrow of his brow. Architect Jaron reached over and squeezed my hand gently—a wordless reassurance I desperately needed but couldn't respond to.

Pagkadating namin sa Godspeed Garden Memorial Park, naramdaman ko na agad ang lalong pagsikip ng dibdib ko. Rows of people, an ocean of somber faces and bowed heads, filled the space. My father's colleagues, their black suits stark against the soft green of the garden, exchanged murmured condolences. Relatives I hadn't seen in years stood with eyes wet and red, their hands clasped in front of them. Family friends, who had watched me grow up, met my eyes with expressions that cracked my already fragile composure.

No'ng pinarada ni Ar. Jaron ang kotse niya, ilang minuto ang lumipas pero walang gumagalaw sa 'min. Ang katahimikan ay nakabibingi, tanging ang malalayong kaluskos ng mga dahon at mahihinang hikbi na lumalaganap sa hangin ang sumisira dito. Architect Carlo turned to me, his eyes kind but pained. "Shan, nandito lang kami."

Tumango ako, ang mga galaw ko'y parang robot habang lumalabas ako ng kotse. Parang ang mundo ay mabilis at mabagal nang sabay. I willed my feet to move, but each step felt like dragging a ton of lead. The noise around me—the rustling of leaves, the distant hum of cars, the soft sobs of mourners—blurred into an incomprehensible roar. But it all fell silent when my eyes found the casket. Polished, dark wood adorned with white lilies, it held the impossible: the still form of my father.

Para bang may napakabigat na bagay na dumagan sa dibdib ko at nahihirapan akong huminga. My vision tunneled, and the strength in my legs crumbled beneath me as I sank toward the ground. Just when I was bracing for the cold, unforgiving touch of the earth, familiar arms wrapped around me, firm and steady.

Cam. His presence broke through the chaos like a beacon. His face, always so full of life, was now shadowed with worry, his eyes glistening as they searched mine. I could see the pain mirrored there, the empathy that only someone who knew me inside out could feel.

Hindi ko na napigilan ang sarili ko at saka tuluyang bumuhos ang mga luha ko mula sa mga mata ko. Napakapit ako sa kanya, ramdam na ramdam ko ang panghihina ko. My cries were soundless, the kind of grief that stole breath and left nothing but raw, aching silence in its wake.

Cam's arms tightened around me, one hand cradling the back of my head as he whispered soothingly, "I'm here, Shan. I'm here." The words were simple, but they broke through the numbness, anchoring me in the midst of the storm. I felt the heat of his cheek against my hair, his steady heartbeat against my chest, a reminder that not everything was lost.

Around us, the world continued, blurred and inconsequential. Muffled voices, the quiet sobs of those who stood nearby, the scent of flowers mixed with the crisp, late-afternoon air—it all faded into the background as I let myself mourn, truly mourn, in the safety of Cam's embrace. The weight of everything—the distance, the regrets, the words unsaid—pressed down on me, but for that moment, I wasn't carrying it alone.

Ang mga minuto ay humaba, at kahit hindi natigil ang aking mga luha, ang tindi nito ay humina, pinalitan ng isang manhid na pagkapagod. Bahagya akong umatras, sapat lang para tingnan si Cam. His eyes, red-rimmed but steady, met mine with a warmth that made my chest ache for a different reason. Maraming bagay na dapat sabihin, maraming damdaming dapat maramdaman, pero nawala ang mga salita sa gitna ng dalamhati. Ang tanging magagawa ko lang ay pisilin ang kanyang braso bilang tahimik na pasasalamat, at tumango siya na parang naintindihan niya ang lahat ng hindi ko masabi.

And as I stood there, surrounded by people and memories, anchored by the friend who knew me best, I realized that grief was not a solitary journey. Even in the darkest moments, there was a light to guide you through.

The days following my father's death blurred together, each one marked by an endless stream of condolences, shared memories, and quiet, aching grief. But tonight, the last night of his wake, brought a finality that was hard to grasp. The air was thick with the scent of white lilies and candle wax, and the soft hum of whispered prayers resonated through the chapel. Rows of family, friends, and familiar faces filled the pews, each sharing in the collective mourning of a man who had touched countless lives.

My family, devout Catholics, found solace in the traditions that bound us. The priest stood at the altar, his voice steady as he led the congregation through the solemn liturgy of the Funeral Mass. The rhythmic murmurs of the prayers washed over me, grounding and yet somehow distant, like waves lapping against the shore. I sat surrounded by my family, Mags clutching my hand tightly, her eyes red and swollen. We leaned into each other, a silent promise of support, as the final prayers were whispered and candles were lit, casting a warm, flickering glow over the room.

Then it was time for the eulogies—remembrances that painted a portrait of my father not just as a man but as a son, a brother, and a friend. The priest called Lola Gaya, my father's stepmother, to the podium. She stood, her back straight, hands clasped tightly as she made her way up. The room fell into a respectful silence, all eyes on her as she began to speak.

"Arman," nagsimula siya, bahagyang nanginginig ang boses bago ito makahanap ng lakas, "was the eldest among his siblings. He was more than a brother; he was a guiding light to all of us."

Isang mahinang bulong ng pagsang-ayon ang kumalat sa paligid. Ang mga mata ni Lola Gaya, kumikislap sa mga hindi napaiyak na luha, ay may malayong tingin, na para bang siya ay nakatingin pabalik sa mga nakaraang taon.

"Life was not kind to Arman when he was young," patuloy niya, ang boses ay puno ng alaala. "His birth mother passed away when he was just thirteen. Kidney failure took her from him, and in that moment, he had no choice but to step into a role far beyond his years. Naging kapatid at ama siya sa kanyang mga nakababatang kapatid, tinanggap ang bigat ng responsibilidad nang walang pag-aalinlangan. Isang pasanin na maaaring sumira sa sinumang bata, ngunit hindi kay Arman."

I felt a pang in my chest as I imagined my father at that age, trying to find his footing in a world that had just taken so much from him. I could picture his youthful face, eyes steeled with determination, the beginnings of the man I knew and loved.

Lola Gaya's voice cracked with emotion, and she paused, pressing her lips together before she spoke again. "When I married into the family, I was afraid. Afraid that I would never be accepted, that I would always be an outsider. But Arman... he had a heart big enough to hold so much love. He accepted me as his own mother, never treating me differently or with resentment. And for that, I will always be grateful."

Isang luha ang dumaan sa kanyang pisngi, ngunit ngumiti siya sa kabila nito, isang nanginginig, mapait na ngiti. "Minahal ko siya na parang sarili kong anak. He deserved every bit of happiness, every success, and more. His strength, his kindness, and his sacrifices made him the man we all admired and cherished. And I know, wherever he is now, he is watching over us, proud of the love he left behind."

Isang mahinang bulong ng pagsang-ayon ang pumuno sa hangin, at ilang tao ang nagpunas ng kanilang mga mata. Pinigil ko ang aking mga luha, isang halo ng pagmamalaki at lungkot ang sumisikip sa aking dibdib. Lola Gaya's words painted a picture of my father that resonated deeply with everyone present, a testament to his resilience and boundless love. As she stepped down, the quiet chapel seemed to hold its breath, cradling the collective memories of a man who had meant so much to so many.

Mags squeezed my hand tighter, and I nodded, unable to trust my voice to speak. The room held an unspoken promise—that my father's legacy would live on in the stories told, in the memories cherished, and in the love that bound us all together.

The evening air inside the chapel was thick with emotion. Each story and memory shared tugged at the deepest strings of my heart, yet it was when Lolo Ramill, stood to speak that everything seemed to shift. He walked up to the lectern, his old frame stooped but determined. His eyes, shadowed by age and regret, swept over the room before settling somewhere distant, as if searching for a version of himself he had lost long ago.

"Arman," he began, his voice deep and rough with years of unsaid apologies. "My son was strong, so much stronger than I ever was. And yet, I... I was cruel to him." Ang kanyang mga salita ay mabigat, na parang bawat pantig ay may mataas na halaga. "I was strict, stricter than I had any right to be, lalo na pagdating sa pera. Not because I lacked it, no—I had more than enough. But I was blinded by my own anger, consumed by the unfairness of losing his mother so young."

A hush fell over the room, an almost tangible silence. Nagsimulang pumatak ang mga luha sa aking mga mata habang pinapanood kong nanginginig ang mga kamay ni Lolo Ramill. Mags beside me reached for my hand, squeezing it so hard it almost hurt.

"Akala ko," nagpatuloy siya, nanginginig ang boses, "na sa pagiging mahigpit sa kanya, magagawa kong siyang palakasin, gawing immune sa sakit na puminsala sa akin. Pero nagkamali ako. Napakalaking pagkakamali. I didn't see that my anger was making him pay for a world that had already taken too much from him. I pushed him away, and when he needed me most—when he became a father himself—I turned my back on him."

The gasp from some relatives and friends was audible, but no one dared interrupt. I felt my throat tighten, a painful reminder of all the things I had never known about my father's struggles.

Lolo Ramill's eyes met mine, and the weight of decades pressed down on his frail shoulders. "Theresa's parents, not me, helped Arman finish his last year in college when he needed support the most. But despite everything, despite the countless ways I failed him, Arman built his life, raised his family, and did so with a grace I could never match. I am proud of him, so proud, and every day of my life, I regret not telling him that when he could hear it."

Lolo Ramill stepped back, tears streaking his face, and I felt my own slide down my cheeks. Mags leaned into me, her quiet sobs echoing my own.

Then, it was my mother's turn. Theresa's legs seemed to tremble as she stood, and when she reached the front, the floodgates of her grief burst open. She clutched the lectern, unable to speak at first, her chest heaving with silent sobs. The room's collective heart seemed to shatter in those moments.

"Arman was my first love," mahina niyang bulong, nanginginig ang boses sa bawat salita. "The only man I have ever loved. We met in college... I remember it like it was yesterday." A soft, nostalgic smile played at her lips for just a moment, but it faded quickly, replaced by a grief so deep it was palpable. "He was Marlyn's best friend, an engineering student with the weight of the world already pressing on his shoulders. But he always found a way to smile, a way to be there for everyone. For me."

Bumuhos nang mas malakas ang kanyang mga luha, bawat isa ay tahimik na patunay ng pag-ibig na dala niya para sa kanya. "If I could do it all over again, I would choose him, always. Because despite everything, Arman was a good man. A man who deserved more than what life gave him."

I closed my eyes, willing my tears to stop, but they didn't. They only came harder as she stepped down, her grief raw and open for all to see.

The priest called for Mags next, but she shook her head, unable to stand, unable to form words through the tightness of her throat and the quiver of her lips. I knew what she felt, the overwhelming weight of loss pressing so heavily that breathing alone seemed impossible.

Finally, my name echoed through the chapel, and every eye turned to me. My legs felt like lead as I stood, the weight of grief making them shake. Pumunta ako sa harapan, bawat hakbang ay tila hinahatak ako papalalim sa katotohanan na wala na siya.

I stood there, staring at the faces of family and friends, at my father's casket, and at the life that had slipped through our fingers too soon. Sinubukan kong magsalita, pero wala akong nasabi. My throat closed up, my vision blurred by tears.

"Daddy," I began, the word almost breaking me apart. My voice trembled, a fragile thread in the heavy air. He wasn't a perfect husband, and for so long... that was all I could see. My hate for him was so strong because I wasn't looking at him as a daughter but as a woman. I saw my father through my mother's eyes—I had forgotten how great he was as a father.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, the silence pressing down on me. "He was always there, even when I didn't realize it. I never thanked him, never told him that I loved him. And now... now, I wish I could go back and see him not through the eyes of an angry daughter, but through the eyes of a daughter who understood. Who loved him."

I looked down, the tears streaming without pause. "Daddy, I'm sorry. And I love you."

The room felt still, like the very air was holding its breath. Then, a quiet sob broke the silence, followed by another, until the chapel was filled with the sounds of mourning, shared and raw. Humakbang ako paatras at saka bumalik sa upuan ko katabi ni Mags. Pagkaupong-pagkaupo ko ay niyakap ako ng kapatid ko, at tahimik kaming umiyak pareho.

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a/n: Ano sa tingin niyo mangyayari sa susunod na mga chapter? :(( Anyway, next update will be tomorrow.