The scent of antiseptic clung to every surface in the hospital room, sharp enough to sting the eyes.
The overhead fluorescent lights hummed, casting a pale glow over the woman lying silent on the bed.
Eleana "Yana" Cruz looked like she was sleeping, except for the unnatural stillness of her chest and the pallor of her skin. Her hair, once shiny black, was spread across the pillow like ink spilled on white paper.
Her eldest daughter, twent-year-old Eleanor "Ellie" Cruz, sat close, her slender shoulders trembling as she stared at her mother's face.
She reached out a shaking hand and brushed a stray hair away from Yana's forehead.
"Ma…" Eleanor whispered, voice raw. "You're finally resting. Wala nang sakit. Thank you… for fighting for so long."
Her tears fell one after the other, darkening the hospital blanket.
Behind Eleanor, seventeen-year-old Isabella "Bella" Cruz stood stiff, her arms folded tight across her chest.
She kept darting anxious glances at the door, as if hoping someone might burst in and declare the whole thing a mistake.
"M-Ma…" Bella murmured, her voice catching.
But she couldn't step closer. A thick wall seemed to stand between her and the hospital bed.
We failed you, Ma. All of us.
Bella's guilt pressed against her ribs like a stone.
Fifteen-year-old Alex "Lex" Cruz hovered at the foot of the bed, his school jacket hanging loosely off his slim frame.
He clenched and unclenched his fists, his eyes rimmed with red.
"You left me too early, Ma," he choked.
Slowly, he shuffled closer and reached for Yana's cold, unmoving hand. He cradled it in both of his, tears dripping onto her knuckles.
"I'm sorry I wasn't a better son. I'm so sorry…"
His shoulders shook as sobs burst from his chest.
Outside the hospital door, hushed voices drifted through the hallway.
"Ang bata pa ni Yana…"
"Wala ba si Gabe?"
The mention of their father's name made Eleanor stiffen.
She felt Bella's eyes on her, searching.
Bella spoke suddenly, the words bursting out like an accusation, "Why isn't Papa here?"
Her voice echoed off the sterile tiles.
Alex looked up, face pale.
"Yeah… shouldn't they at least let him come? Even just for this?"
Eleanor swallowed, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.
"They tried, Lex… but the paperwork didn't go through."
Bella's eyes glittered with fresh tears.
"It's not fair. Ma kept hoping he'd be here. She kept saying maybe they'd let him out."
Eleanor's chest tightened.
Ma kept believing the impossible. Even near the end, she thought they'd let Papa come say goodbye.
The silence between the siblings grew thick, heavy with memories and things left unsaid.
Alex spoke again, softer this time.
"Do you think Papa knows… that Ma's gone?"
Eleanor couldn't answer right away.
A dozen memories flashed through her mind: visiting days at the prison, Yana's forced smiles, the guards hovering nearby.
Papa Gabe's eyes had been sunken, his hair streaked with new white strands. He'd squeezed their hands so tightly through the visitor's glass, whispering that he was sorry.
"Papa knows," Eleanor said finally, her voice trembling. "I told the warden to tell him."
Bella swiped at her eyes angrily.
"I hate this. Why does it feel like we're burying both our parents at the same time?"
___
In a small cell not far from the city, Gabriel "Gabe" Cruz sat on a thin mattress, staring at the wall.
In his hands, he clutched a worn photo of Yana, smiling in the sunshine, the kids crowded around her.
He pressed his thumb over her face, as though trying to keep her close.
I should be there. Beside her. Beside my children.
But the bars remained between him and everything he loved.
A guard passed by and paused, casting a pitying look inside the cell.
"Pare… I'm sorry. They told me… your asawa passed this morning."
Gabe nodded once, his throat too tight for words.
When the guard left, Gabe curled forward, pressing the photo to his chest.
"Lord… forgive me. And please… don't let them suffer for my mistakes."
___
Back in the hospital, Eleanor tried to steady her breathing.
She pressed her palm to her chest, feeling the uneven pounding of her heart.
Papa's in prison because of the drugs…
She closed her eyes, pushing the thought away.
A soft knock at the door made them all jump.
Aunt Carmen entered, her face blotchy from crying. She hugged Eleanor, then Bella, then Alex.
"My poor babies," she murmured. "Your Ma loved you all so much."
Eleanor clung to her aunt, wishing for the briefest moment that she could disappear into someone else's arms, someone older who could carry the weight.
Flashback
Suddenly, a memory crashed into Eleanor's mind, so vivid it almost knocked the breath from her chest.
She was sixteen again, standing in their small kitchen, face flushed red with anger. The sharp tang of vinegar and garlic from the adobo on the stove filled the air, but all she could taste was fury.
"Stop telling me what to do, Ma! You're so overbearing!" Eleanor shouted, her voice breaking. "I'm not a child anymore!"
Yana whirled from the stove, spatula still in her hand, eyes flashing. "Anak, I'm your mother! It's my job to tell you what's right and wrong!"
"It's my life!" Eleanor snapped. Her fists clenched at her sides. "Just… leave me alone!"
"Hoy!" Yana shouted, banging the spatula on the counter. "Don't you walk away from me while I'm talking!"
But Eleanor had already spun on her heel, her hair whipping around her face, and stormed toward the living room.
"Eleanor!" Yana called after her, voice tight with both anger and panic. "One day, you'll realize everything I'm saying is for your own good!"
Eleanor reached the doorway and turned back for one last shot, her chest heaving. "No, Ma. You just want to control me. I'm sick of it!"
Yana opened her mouth as though to reply—but words failed her. Her shoulders sagged, and for a fleeting second, Eleanor saw the raw hurt in her mother's eyes.
But I didn't care. Not then.
In a blaze of stubborn pride, Eleanor slammed the bedroom door so hard the walls rattled.
Inside, she collapsed onto her bed, glaring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away.
I thought we'd have time. Time to fight and make up. Time to say sorry. Time for Ma to know how much I loved her—even if I didn't show it well.
But back in the hospital room, standing at her mother's deathbed, Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut as the memory faded.
We thought we had time. But we didn't.
End of Flashback
Back in the hospital room, present-day Eleanor wiped her eyes harshly.
I didn't even tell her how grateful I am to be born as her daughter. I didn't hug her. I didn't say I loved her. How can I ever forgive myself for that?
The priest arrived, murmuring prayers as he sprinkled holy water over Yana's still body.
The droplets landed on Yana's forehead like glistening tears.
Eleanor stared at them, her vision blurring.
Bella leaned close and whispered shakily, "Ate… what happens now?"
Eleanor opened her mouth, but no words came out. She couldn't admit that she had no idea how they'd go on from here.
Slowly, the mortuary attendants entered, quiet and professional. They prepared to move Yana's body, speaking in gentle tones.
Eleanor felt Bella's grip tighten around her hand.
Alex stood trembling beside them, his breath coming in small gasps.
Eleanor tried to stay strong. She tilted her chin up and stepped closer to the bed.
She brushed a final kiss against her mother's forehead.
"Goodbye, Ma. I love you. Always."
Bella followed, pressing her cheek to Yana's cold face.
Alex bent down and whispered, "I'll take care of Ate Ellie and Bella for you, Ma. I promise."
The funeral came and went in a haze.
She barely remembered the white coffin, the mountain of flowers, or the hushed condolences whispered by neighbors.
Five months passed.
Grief dug itself deeper into the Cruz home like roots cracking through concrete.
A silence hung over the house, heavy as damp air before a storm.
Eleanor, now twenty and back in college, went through her days like a ghost.
She caught herself staring blankly at her professors. Her notebooks remained half-empty, scattered with absent scribbles.
Bella, seventeen, became short-tempered, always snapping at the smallest things.
Alex, fifteen, spent hours locked in his room, blasting music too loud for anyone else's comfort.
Meals felt awkward. Empty chairs were reminders that things could never be the same.
Papa Gabe remained locked away in prison. The siblings still knew why he was gone—but they avoided speaking of it. His absence was a wound none of them dared touch.
Sometimes Eleanor lay awake at night, clutching her rosary so tightly the beads cut into her palms.
Lord… why did You let this happen?
She found herself praying less and less.
Are You even listening?
She heard the same doubt in Bella's voice when she whispered:
"Sabi nila God is good. But why Ma? Why Papa?"
Eleanor tried to stay strong. She cooked breakfast. Helped Bella study. Checked Alex's assignments.
But every so often, she'd slip away into her mother's old room, sink onto the edge of the bed, and sob silently into Yana's pillow.
One late evening, after another day that felt like treading water, Eleanor sat alone in the living room.
Rain hammered the windows. Wind howled around the house.
She held the last photo of them all together—Papa Gabe, Ma, Bella, Alex, and herself.
Tears dripped onto the photo paper.
"I'm sorry, Ma…" she whispered. "I should have been a better daughter. I should have been there for you."
She closed her eyes.
I'd give anything… anything… to go back and do it right.
Suddenly, a surge of dizziness swept over her.
The sound of rain vanished.
Instead, she smelled warm garlic rice, fried bangus, and banana ketchup.
When she opened her eyes, she was in her old pink room.
Glow-in-the-dark stars blinked on the ceiling. Her high school backpack sat slouched in the corner. Posters of pop stars lined the walls.
Eleanor stumbled to the mirror.
A younger face stared back. Sixteen years old.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
I'm back…
From outside the room, she heard familiar bickering:
"Alex, wag mong kainin 'yan, para kay Ate Ellie yan!"
"E gutom na ako, Bella!"
Then—
"HOY! Kumain na kayo bago lumamig ang ulam!"
Mama's voice.
Alive. Warm.
Eleanor gasped as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
I'm back. I have another chance.