One day my father came to me , I thought he will ask about my feelings. But he didn't come to comfort me; he came to notify me, as if my heart were a business he was no longer interested in running. He said , "I can't live like this. I want to start a new life." I knew what he was implying but my heart couldn't accept the truth . So I feigned ignorance and said , "what do you mean? Yes, of course. My mother is not here anymore and she will never come back so we should move on and accept our fate . But what do you mean by a new life?" A part of me had seen the signs of the subtle change in his tone and his behaviors - but I had buried those thoughts deep. Now, hearing him say it out loud felt like a physical blow.
I tilted my head just a fraction, peering up at him with a cautious, searching look. I wanted to see his expression—was there any guilt in his eyes? Any lingering sadness for my mother? But even as I studied him, I tucked my chin, making sure the frames of my glasses sat firmly on the bridge of my nose. They were my silent protectors. Behind the glass, my eyes were swimming in a hot, blurring tide, but the reflections on the lenses hid the truth. To him, I was just looking; he couldn't see the way I was desperately blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over the rims.
So when he finally broke the ice, the water wasn't a surprise—it was just as cold as she knew it would be. He said , "Everyone is suggesting me to marry someone and find happiness. " When he said the word "marriage," the air seemed to thin until I couldn't breathe. It had been just few days . Not even long enough for the dust to settle on her mother's vanity, and he was already inviting a stranger to take her place. He didn't ask how I felt; he didn't even look at my eyes to see the wreckage. He simply broke the news like a piece of dry wood, leaving me to deal with the splinters. I wanted to ask him , "how can you forget my mother? How can you do this? Do you forget the sacrifices she made for us? How can you be so cruel?"
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline that never came. The shock was a cold weight in my stomach. It wasn't just the news that hurt; it was the ease with which he delivered it. He spoke about a "new beginning" while I was still drowning in the end of everything she knew. There was no "How are you holding up?" or "Are you ready for this?" There was only his decision - sharp, sudden blade that cut through the last thread of safety I had left. To him, my mother was a chapter he had already finished reading.
I wanted to say many things. But I couldn't utter a word . I didn't even find the words to say no. Instead, I just stood there, swallowing the sharp edges of his words until they settled like stones in my chest. I had always been the one to keep the peace, believing that if I stayed quiet enough, the world would eventually right itself. I waited for him to look at me, and see that I was still bleeding from the first loss . I couldn't hold my tears anymore. I knew that if I looked up, the weight of the tears I was holding back would finally break. My vision was already a blur of shimmering heat, and I blinked slowly, carefully, trying to dry them before they could track down my cheeks. I didn't want to hurt him with my grief; I didn't want to make him feel guilty for wanting to move on. "I... I just remembered I have some work I need to finish right now," I managed to say , my eyes fixed on a spot just past his shoulder. "Can we... can we talk more about this later?" I didn't wait for his nod and turned away. It was the only shield I had left. I retreated toward my room, my footsteps sounding unnervingly loud in the sudden silence of the hallway. To my father, I probably looked busy or even indifferent. He couldn't see the way my throat was aching or I was counting every step until I reached my sanctuary. I wasn't going to work; I was going to crumble where no one could see the ruins.