Outside a modest house, half made of cement and the other half of plywood, a child sat with arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her head was bowed low as muffled sobs escaped her lips—quiet but heavy.
She tried to calm herself, but her tears betrayed her, continuing to fall steadily from her eyes.
She wanted to cover her ears to block out the loud voices and crashing sounds coming from inside—her parents arguing once again and throwing things at each other.
But instead of covering her ears, she chose to hold onto her trembling knees. Not only out of nervousness, but because she were afraid.
It was a common occurrence for her parents to fight. If before it was just shouting, now it had escalated to physical violence.
Callista could clearly hear the crashing sounds of objects being thrown and breaking wherever they landed inside the house.
"You useless animal! After all the years I endured this worthless life you gave me, you still had the nerve to cheat on me? You're good for nothing, and you still went and found another woman! You look like a dog, you bastard!" her mother screamed furiously at her father.
"You have no right to insult me! This—this is exactly why I looked for someone else, because of your foul mouth! You're so full of yourself, acting like you matter! And you can't even do household chores right! So don't be surprised I replaced you! I'm sick and tired of you, damn it! Marrying you was a mistake. Life was already hard, and you just made it worse, you wretch!" her father shouted back, just as enraged, followed by a loud crash from inside the house.
And right on that day, Callista and her mother were left behind by her father. He had firmly decided to go with his mistress. Callista tried to stop him, crying and begging as she clung to him.
"Papa, please don't leave me. Please, Papa. Please… don't leave me," she cried, her face soaked with tears as she wrapped her arms around her father's leg.
Her father crouched down with a smile and gently stroked her hair.
"My child, Papa wants to take you with him, but it's because of your Mama. If I take you, she'll be left all alone. I know your Mama doesn't always have the best attitude, but she's still your mother. So even if Papa chose to leave her, I hope you'll take care of her, okay? She's still important to me, just not enough anymore for me to stay by her side. Papa's tired, tired of loving her. So I hope you… don't get tired of loving her," he said softly, so different from the angry voice he used earlier when shouting at her mother.
"I love you very much, Callista. Don't worry, Papa will save money. I'll send some to you. You know Aling Merna, right? At the end of each month, go to her. I'll send money for you and your Mama—just don't tell her, or she'll surely get angry. Do you understand? Take care of yourself, Callista. Papa loves you very, very much."
Because of what her father said, she let go of his legs. Though tears were falling, she forced a smile and watched his figure as he walked away.
She was still very young, but for some reason, she understood the weight of the words her father had spoken.
He loved her mother, but that love was no longer enough to ease the exhaustion he felt and stay by her side.
Her father was simply tired, and resting beside them was no longer enough to relieve it. He needed to walk away and breathe—away from them.
At a young age, she accepted the truth that their family was no longer whole. And when Callista's gaze shifted to the door, she saw her mother—silently crying. But the moment her mother noticed her watching, her eyes instantly flared with anger.
"What are you staring at, you worthless child? Get out of my sight! You're the bad luck in my life, you're useless!"
She said furiously, and not wanting to provoke her mother any further, Callista chose to leave. Crying, she walked alone along the roadside, heading to the nearby park—where she could quietly release all the pain she was carrying.
Her mother was the reason why her father grew tired. She was too ambitious for things they didn't have. She focused too much on the envy she felt toward her former friends—people who used to rely on her but were now ahead in life.
She lived with a heart full of envy for the things she didn't possess. And she only fueled it further by constantly scrolling through social media, where she saw the photos her old friends posted—attending events, dining out at different places.
Things she couldn't do, because her father's earnings were just enough to feed and support them three times a day.
Things she couldn't understand, because she saw how hard her father worked. How the once-bright face that used to smile so often had now grown weary—forced smiles replacing genuine ones every time her mother asked for things he simply couldn't give.
She saw how he endured her mother's constant nagging and hurtful words. And now, she respected her father even more—for holding on for so long. She couldn't blame him for finally choosing to leave. He was only human, hurt and exhausted.
Even if her mother was wrong, she couldn't bring herself to completely ignore what her mother felt. Because, as her father once said, all feelings are valid. It's just that her mother allowed herself to be consumed by the envy growing in her heart.
She forgot—and failed to realize—that she was the richest among them all. Because she had a loving husband who never let her suffer or go a single day without food. And she had a child like me, who was willing to stay by her side even though loving her was unbearably painful.
Because of the overwhelming mix of pain, sadness, and loneliness, Callista didn't realize she had already reached the park. She sat beneath the shade of a tree, letting her tears fall freely.
She closed her eyes and once again pictured the smiling face of her father—who, even as he left, had entrusted her with the care of her mother.
The pain she felt was undeniable. The tears streaming down her face were more than enough proof of how much it hurt.
She lifted her gaze when something soft brushed against her cheek. She was startled to see a young boy standing in front of her.
He stood there, holding out a white handkerchief.
"Take it. Wipe your tears," he said with a gentle smile, still offering the handkerchief to her.