Three Love Stories: The ‘Murder’

Previously…

“I can’t believe we’re having a baby then… A picture of a happy family quickly filled my thoughts. I can’t wait for Y to be back.”

 

April 2008.

After work, I went to the clinic for my pre-natal check-up. I’ve gotten used to going alone to see the gynecologist. However, today it’s different. Y accompanied me to the doctor. I guess it’s because he also wanted to see the ultrasound image of our son.

And so, we went back to my rented place together after my pre-natal check-up. It was a wonderful moment seeing an ultrasound image of our little one. Y kept on smiling on our way home. Then, he planned to rest for a while at my place before going home. However, he stayed for the night because of some reasons.

We talked about matters concerning our son. What would be our set-up. Where I’m going to stay temporarily after giving birth. How my parents reacted when they learned about my pregnancy. And of course, what they would expect from us – like getting married perhaps.

Having ran out of topics to discuss, we both remained quiet. Until, he finally broke the silence…

“Have I told you before why I’m not the marrying type?”

I shook my head and stared at him in confusion.

And so, he started with his revelation. He’s not the marrying type because he can’t. According to him, he had already tied the knot with Ciara years before in Cebu. Yet, they also separated. Ciara flew to China and he went here in the Capital to work. But legally speaking, they’re still together.

As much as his words sank deep into my heart and tore me into pieces, I can’t accept what I was hearing. I refused to. Worst, I can’t accept the kind of future that me and my son would be having. It’s like history repeating itself.

I can’t look at him. I was afraid to. I was afraid that if I would, I might beg to him. I can’t make myself more pathetic than I already was at that moment.

All I could do was sob. I felt like a little child whose most precious toy was taken away. Well, I felt robbed that time. My dreams crumbled right before my eyes. Even if I felt like hitting on the man, I can’t. I felt so weak. Even speechless to say anything. Motionless and defeated.

Flashbacks of our sweet moments together flooded my mind. Those sweet words… Our office romance. Going home together. His promise to always make me happy. Rainy nights cuddling together. Pizza and red wine with movies. The fireworks. The kisses. All those sweet text messages. All the “I love you”. Meeting his mom. Our birthdays. The Eco-Park kiss. Living together. And, our first anniversary. Everything played swiftly in my mind. Each scene passed, left me and pierced my heart.

I suddenly felt sick about them especially that moment when he asked me if I love him enough to marry him. They don’t seem real to me anymore. Everything seemed fake already.

Did he just played with me? Why didn’t he tell me the truth before?

I recalled that night when he told me about Ciara. He was even teary-eyed that time. I thought it was just a failed relationship that he cherished most. A relationship that might have brought him a child. He didn’t tell me that there was something more… Why didn’t he told me before? Why just now?

Then, I also recalled that time when we talked about us. I thought it was clear to him before that if we’re going to have a child I don’t want him to experience what I’ve had with my parents. We’ve talked about it before… but here we are. There he was, talking about things that would bring a gloomy future to us. What will happen to me and my baby? How am I going to explain everything to my family? How am I going to explain all these to my son in the future?

I continued sobbing like there’s no tomorrow. I curled up on the bed and turned my back at him. He tried comforting me but it was no use. Then, he was suddenly upset. Perhaps he was worried about the baby. He was pleading to me to stop and drink some water. But I can’t. Even if I found it hard to breathe already, my body just can’t move.  There’s no energy left in me to move.

And even his presence that time was killing me…

Tears just won’t stop falling even though I already tried to control them for my baby’s sake. In the end, I found myself  even calling out “Mommy” and “Daddy” softly as though I’m a little child crying out for help. I don’t know if he heard it. I don’t care.

His embrace gave me chills. His comforting words fueled my wrath. All I thought of at that moment is that I hate myself. And that, I’ve started hating him too.

And whenever I recall that night, I still feel weak and sick about his revelations.

It was the murder of my dreams and hopes.

So that time, I told myself that I shall bury that moment deep in my memory where somehow I could forget it as if it never happened at all. Like it’s just one of those terrible nightmares. And, maybe through this, the pain would subside…

 

To be continued…

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