Life #6

Staring at the picture before me made heavy tears rush down my face.

"Dakila," I whispered as I traced his face in his picture and swiped off a tear that had fallen onto his picture.

That night, Mr. Kilali had come to me, apologizing for his misdeed all those years ago. My mother had seen him and cursed him until her heart had been content. But he had felt remorseful and had offered to pay for my brain surgery. I had gone through it, survived... But after that night I didn't see Dakila again.

Not... until two days later when I had been informed that he had—

"Dad!"

I looked up and watched as Kidlat—my daughter—rushed down the steps in an oversized gown.

I stifled a laugh and pushed up my glasses. "Kiddy, what... What are you wearing?"

She paused a few steps in front of me and pouted her lips. "You're the same with him," she mumbled, a frown on her face.

I raised a brow. "Who?"

"Ama! Who else?!" she yelled an rushed back up the stairs with heavy footsteps.

I sighed and dropped my head. The sound of a breathy laughter made me look up with a smirk. "You should really stop making her wear things like that," I said and looked up to watch as the love of my life slowly walked down the stairs, our babbling baby boy in his hands.

He snorted and placed Amalu on his hip. "And you should really stop buying these sort of toys for Amalu," he huffed, referring to our baby who was currently nibbling on a toy. "He keeps swallowing a part of them and..."

He stopped talking and frowned at me. I raised a brow.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

Dakila rushed to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Why are you crying Love? What—oh." He sighed and pinched my cheek, a funny frown on his face. "Why do you always like looking at this picture? And why do you like going through my stuff?"

I sighed and dropped my gaze. I traced his face again. "It helps in reminding me about everything," I whispered.

He rushed to crouch in front of me. He looked up at me with those beautiful eyes and slowly asked, "is it the memory loss?"

"Part of it."

Dakila sighed and dropped his head. "And that, people, is the only reason that I keep a picture of myself when I was fat and short."

A chuckle shook my chest at his word. "You were cuter back then."

He sharply raised his head, a deep frown on his face. "So I'm not cute any longer? You—"

I cupped my hand over his mouth. "No, don't say that. You don't look cute"—his frown deepened—"you look sexy. That's all." I shrugged, but then he licked my palm and I retracted it with a grimace. "Ew. Why did you just do such a thing?"

He smirked lightly, and straightened up. "The only time you're allowed to cover my mouth with those hands of yours is in bed and when we're practising BD—"

"DAKILA!" My face blazed at that. "The baby," I hissed and motioned to the baby who was currently sucking on his arm.

He rolled his eyes and adjusted Amalu's position. "It's not like he isn't already mimicking my m-o-a-n-s."

"DAKILA!"

"What?!"

"Moo!" Amalu cooed and pouted his lips.

Dakila motioned to him and simply said, "see? I'm a fine role model."

I sighed and placed a hand over my eyes. "How did I get tangled with you?" I sighed.

"In bed," he said and pecked my lips. I felt as he sat on the armrest.

I shuddered and peaked at him through the space in between my fingers. "Why—"

"Dad! Ama!" Kidlat yelled and rushed down tbye stairs and ran to us, what looked to be a pair of furry cuffs in her hands. She stood before us and gave us each an angry pout. She held up the cuffs. "What's this?"

"Kiddy, where did you get that?" Dakila softly asked, releasing an awkward laugh.

"I found it in the pile of costumes you gave to me."

Dakila started laughing in embarrassment and I cupped my face in shame. Amalu started clapping his hands, making happy noises. Kidlat was wise beyond her age; she'd figure it out on her own.

I stood up and pointed at Dakila. "Ask the laughing father. They always know the answer."

"What? So—"

"Ama what is this?" she asked as she turned the cuffs to him and Dakila began to sputter.

I walked to the stairs and held onto the banister. I looked over my shoulder and smiled warmly at my family. At Dakila's red, embarrassed face. At Kidlat's angry, fair face. At Amalu's cooing chubby dark-skinned face. And I suddenly felt content beyond my years. I hummed in amusement and continued up the stairs.

I guess good people do get a second chance. But theirs was life itself. And Dakila was my life... and death. Because even in death, he'll always be by my side.

THE END