— the “heir” was not a son, but a daughter. The festivities came to a halt, the celebrations turning to hushed whispers and disbelief. Marco’s family, who had been so ardent about having a male child, found themselves face to face with a truth they had refused to consider: nature had its own plans, beyond their control or whims.
The atmosphere in the Dela Cruz household grew tense. Clarissa, once hailed as the savior of the family line, now faced the brunt of their disappointment. The welcome she once enjoyed began to wane, her status as the “queen” quickly diminishing. There were no longer visitors flocking to see the supposed heir, no elaborate feasts, and no proud declarations from Aling Corazon.
Meanwhile, back in Cebu, my life had taken on a peaceful rhythm. My daughter, whom I named Lila, brought joy to my days and filled the gaps left by past wounds. Her laughter became the melody that woke me each morning, her tiny hand in mine a reminder of the strength I had found in adversity.
