CHAPTER 39: THE CRACKS WITHIN
Returning to Agoo should have felt like a sanctuary. As the tricycle finally pulled up in front of our small house and we carefully helped Papa Renato out, the familiar sight of our quiet neighborhood and the faint smell of the sea breeze usually brought comfort. But for me, the air remained heavy, suffocating, and thick with anxiety. Papa was fully resting in his own bed, looking significantly better but still fragile. While he slept, the real storm began brewing in our small living room. The promissory note from ITRMC felt like a burning coal inside my pocket. Fourteen days. We only had two weeks before the follow-up check-up, and the countdown was already ticking. I walked into the kitchen and found Mama Eliza sitting at the wooden table, her face buried in her hands. Beside her
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