CHAPTER 3

At five o'clock in the afternoon, I looked out the window when I heard our car's engine. It was just a day after my college graduation, and my father and two uncles had gone to the accident site.

Papa texted Mama that they had arrived at a hospital in Pulilan, Bulacan. He stated that they had brought almost all of the accident casualties there. Mama didn't share the details, maybe to spare me the grief. Papa didn't text again after they reached the hospital, leaving me in a state of unbearable suspense.

Anxiety gnawed at me so fiercely that I skipped lunch. I spent almost the whole day locked in my room, staring at a picture of Hector on my bedside table. So, when I heard our car stop in the carport, excitement began to surge.

Ate Mia and Mama greeted Papa as he got out of the car. I stayed in my bedroom, my mind racing with worries and fears. I was so stressed that I almost forgot to bathe.

"Pa, what happened?" I questioned him just as he stepped into the doorway.

Mama stood beside him while Ate Mia closed the gate outside. Mama's face mirrored my desperate need for answers, and Papa's appearance showed his effort to gather his courage. My anxiety skyrocketed.

Mama rubbed my back; her touch was a small comfort. Papa still didn't speak. Instead, he took a small plastic bag out of his pocket and handed it to me. Papa lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Ara," he said, his voice heavy with sorrow.

It was the first time I had ever heard him sound so broken. I stared at the plastic bag, tears welling in my eyes for reasons I couldn't fully understand. A small red velvet box and Hector's school ID were inside the bag. My hands trembled so violently that I almost dropped the bag.

"Celia, I saw his body. It was unrecognizable. It was charred," Papa said, his voice cracking.

He couldn't even look at me directly because I started losing myself.

"Are you sure?" Mama asked with a barely whispered voice. Papa burst into tears.

It was true.

The accident had killed Hector.

I broke away from Mama's embrace, my chest constricting with overwhelming pain. I collapsed onto the sofa, clutching the plastic bag. I couldn't speak; my sobs were racking my body. Ate Mia hugged me tightly, her presence serving as a small anchor. I didn't even notice that our living room was already dark because they forgot to turn the lights on.

Hector was dead. How could that be?

I found it impossible to accept. I clung to the hope that there had been a mistake, that I still had to wait, and that maybe Hector would still come home with the surprise he had mentioned yesterday.

But as a week passed, all the evidence revealed a grim reality. My heart shattered when I saw the wreckage of Hector's red Toyota Innova on a website. Despite the difficulty of accepting, I tried to piece together what had happened.

I was so engrossed in my thoughts that they rushed me to the hospital for dehydration. Every morning, I woke up believing that Hector was still alive and would walk through the door. In my mind, it was all just a nightmare, but reality told a different story. My parents and sister were distraught, but I couldn't grasp their concern.

My world turned upside down. I lost my appetite and battled insomnia. I struggled to distinguish between reality and fantasy. Every second since hearing about Hector's death, I have looked for someone to blame. I asked myself why he had to be there and why he had to be the one to leave. I often blamed God, even though no one else heard.

Whenever I saw the plastic bag on my study table, I would throw it away and cry in agony. It didn't matter if it was morning or night. I knew my family was struggling with my condition, but I couldn't understand their perspective. I was grateful for their attempts to support me, but I couldn't see past my pain.

Hector was everything in my life. How could fate take away everything I held dear in the blink of an eye? I loved him so much, and yet fate was cruel. It was truly unfair.

Mama and my sister handled my clearance process at the university. I was genuinely grateful to them, especially since the school had learned about Hector's death through his ID and extended their condolences.

I also heard that Mommy Gloria and Daddy Ben returned to the country without warning. My parents had informed them of the tragedy. According to Mommy Gloria, the incident has wholly upended their world. Hector was their only child, and they had many dreams for him.

They had been setting aside money for Hector's future, and I was expected to play a role in those plans. They had already anticipated a wedding so Hector and I could start a family. Once we were married, they intended to buy us a house. But now, everything had changed, and it all felt meaningless. They had sacrificed so much for his future, but it was all in vain.

I couldn't face them several weeks after they returned to the country. I didn't have the strength to face them. I became bedridden. Mommy Gloria wanted to see and comfort me through this ordeal, but it was impossible. Ate Mia mentioned that Daddy Ben was rushed to the hospital due to severe exhaustion.

I didn't know how they retrieved Hector's body. According to Ate Mia, the decision not to proceed with an autopsy was primarily due to Daddy Ben's health concern, and even I did. Hector's school ID helped identify him as the first casualty in the accident, and that evidence was enough of not doing so.

When I found out they were planning to cremate Hector's body, I finally mustered the courage to meet with them. I had lost much weight and was still losing more, but I forced myself to see them. They planned to take his ashes back to the U.S., but I couldn't bear the thought. Hector's ashes were the only remaining piece of him I could hold onto. I begged them not to take him away, and eventually they agreed. We decided to place his ashes in Quezon City's columbarium.

My life changed drastically after Hector's death. I knew my family was still my source of strength, helping me continue to live, but his death left a painful mark on me.

His loss was irreversible, so I forced myself to be strong. I didn't know how long I could endure, but I resolved to survive.

Hector was on my mind every day, week, month, and year that followed. It's strange how, when we lose someone we cherish, we notice so many things about them, even the most minor details of their humanity. Hector's death shaped the events that followed in my life, leaving a profound and lasting impact.