UNCONTROLLABLE TEARS

CHAPTER 12 A Little Hope

For the next few days, I tried not to think too much about the coffee shop.

Dad had already said no.

I didn't want to disobey him.

So I tried to accept his decision, even though part of me still wished he would change his mind.

The phone number Celine had sent me was still saved in my phone.

Sometimes, I would open my contacts and see it there.

I never called it.

I never sent a message.

I simply kept looking at it, wondering what my life might have been like if Dad had said yes.

Maybe I would have had somewhere to go every morning.

Maybe I would have met new people.

Maybe I would have earned enough to buy the things I needed without having to ask anyone.

Maybe I would have felt useful.

But Dad had said no.

And I had learned a long time ago that when my father made a decision, there was usually nothing I could do to change it.

So I went back to my usual routine.

I kept myself busy with the work around the house.

Sometimes the days felt so similar that I could hardly tell one from another.

Morning came.

Then afternoon.

Then evening.

And the next day began almost exactly the same way.

But even while I was busy, one thought kept returning to me.

School.

I had tried to push it away before.

I had told myself that maybe I would continue someday.

But lately, "someday" had started to feel less like a possibility and more like an excuse I was using to make myself feel better.

I was getting older.

Suzita was continuing with her education.

She had opportunities I didn't have.

And I didn't want to spend the rest of my life wondering what I could have become if someone had simply given me a chance.

I wanted to study.

I wanted to work someday.

I wanted to have something that belonged to me.

I wanted to be able to look at my life and know that I had built something for myself.

But I didn't know how to begin.

Then one evening, Dad came home earlier than usual.

I was in the kitchen when I heard the front door open.

I dried my hands and stepped out.

"Dad."

He looked up when he saw me.

"Maya."

His voice sounded tired, but there was no anger in it.

He placed his briefcase on the small table near the entrance and loosened his tie.

For a moment, he stood there quietly.

The house was unusually silent.

He looked toward the sitting room, then toward the hallway.

"Where is everyone?"

"Ma'am Elizabeth went out with Suzita."

He looked at me.

"Both of them?"

I nodded.

"Yes."

"Do you know where they went?"

I shook my head.

"They just said they were going out."

Dad nodded slowly.

Then he looked around the quiet house again.

"So it's just you and me?"

"Yes."

Something about the way he said it made me feel strangely nervous.

It had been a long time since the house had been this quiet with only the two of us inside.

Dad reached for his briefcase.

"I'll take this."

"I can carry it."

Before he could object, I picked it up.

He looked at me for a moment.

Then he nodded.

"Alright."

We walked toward his room together.

I followed beside him, holding his briefcase with both hands.

For a moment, I remembered being younger.

There had been a time when I followed Dad around without thinking twice.

When he came home from work, I would run to the door.

Sometimes I would take his briefcase from him even though it was almost as big as I was.

He used to laugh and tell me I was too small to carry it.

I would insist anyway.

Those memories felt so distant now.

When we reached his room, I placed the briefcase beside the chair.

"Thank you," Dad said.

"You're welcome."

He sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his forehead.

His shoulders looked heavy.

He looked exhausted.

I remained near the door.

I had something I wanted to tell him.

This was the first time in a long while that I had him alone.

Elizabeth wasn't there.

Suzita wasn't there.

Nobody was going to interrupt us.

I knew that if I didn't say what was on my mind now, I might lose the courage later.

Dad loosened his tie further.

He looked up at me.

"Is something wrong?"

I shook my head.

"No."

He watched me for another moment.

"Maya."

I lowered my eyes.

"Can I talk to you?"

His expression softened.

"Of course."

I slowly walked farther into the room and sat on the chair near the bed.

I placed my hands together in my lap.

For a few seconds, I couldn't say anything.

Dad waited.

He didn't rush me.

Eventually, I took a breath.

"I wanted to talk to you about something."

"I'm listening."

I looked at him.

"I know you said no when I told you about the coffee shop."

He nodded.

"I remember."

"I didn't want to disobey you."

"I know."

I looked down at my hands.

"But I really wanted to work."

Dad remained quiet.

I could feel my courage beginning to disappear.

So I continued before I changed my mind.

"It's not because I hate being at home."

Dad's eyes stayed on me.

"I don't."

I swallowed.

"I know this is my home. And I know you take care of me."

My fingers tightened together.

"I just want to be able to do some things for myself."

Dad's expression changed slightly.

"What things?"

I hesitated.

"Personal things."

He waited.

"What personal things?"

I looked away.

"Things I don't always feel comfortable asking for."

Dad's brows drew together.

"Why?"

I didn't answer immediately.

I knew exactly why.

I remembered how it felt whenever I needed something and had to ask.

Sometimes Elizabeth would sigh before answering me.

Sometimes Suzita would laugh.

Sometimes they would look at me as if I had asked something ridiculous.

There had been times when I asked about something I didn't know, only for them to make me feel stupid for not already knowing it.

Even when I needed ordinary things, I sometimes found myself standing there wishing I could disappear before I finished explaining what I wanted.

I had learned to think carefully before asking for anything.

I had learned to keep some questions to myself.

"I just don't like asking anymore," I said quietly.

Dad continued looking at me.

"Maya."

I finally looked up.

"You can ask me."

"I know."

"Then why don't you?"

I swallowed.

"Because sometimes I don't want to ask in front of them."

Dad's expression changed.

"In front of Elizabeth and Suzita?"

I nodded.

He didn't say anything.

I continued.

"I don't like the way they sometimes react."

His jaw tightened slightly.

"How do they react?"

I looked down.

"It's not always something big."

"Then tell me."

I took a shaky breath.

"Sometimes they laugh."

Dad's face became serious.

"At you?"

I nodded.

"Sometimes."

"Why?"

"Because of what I ask."

I wiped my palms against my dress.

"Sometimes if I don't know something, they make jokes about it."

I looked at him again.

"And if I ask for something personal, they can make me feel like I'm being foolish for needing it."

Dad remained completely still.

I could tell he was listening carefully now.

"I know I'm older," I continued.

"I know I should know some things by now."

My voice trembled.

"But I don't know everything."

Dad's expression softened.

"Sometimes I just want someone to explain things to me without making me feel stupid for asking."

A tear slipped down my cheek.

I wiped it quickly.

"I don't want to keep feeling embarrassed whenever I need something."

Dad looked down at his hands.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then he asked quietly,

"Is that why you wanted the job?"

I nodded.

"I wanted to have money of my own."

I looked down.

"Then I wouldn't have to ask all the time."

Dad's face changed.

I could see something painful in his eyes.

"I wasn't trying to run away from home," I added quickly.

"I wasn't trying to disobey you."

"I know."

"I just wanted to be able to take care of some things myself."

Dad nodded slowly.

"I understand."

I wasn't sure he really did.

But hearing him say it made something inside me relax.

Then I gathered enough courage to say what I had been thinking about for much longer.

"I also want to continue my education."

Dad looked directly at me.

"I've been thinking about it for a long time."

His expression became more serious.

"Maya..."

"I know the company isn't doing well."

He sighed.

"It isn't."

"I know things are difficult."

"They are."

"But I don't want to stay at home forever."

Dad looked away.

I watched his face.

"There are a lot of things you don't understand yet," he said.

"Then explain them to me."

The words came out more quickly than I intended.

I immediately lowered my eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Dad shook his head.

"No. You're right."

He remained seated on the edge of the bed.

"The business isn't where it should be."

I listened.

"There are expenses. Salaries. Debts. Suppliers. There are always things that need to be paid."

His voice was tired.

"Sometimes I don't even know how I'm going to handle everything."

I nodded slowly.

"I understand."

"Sending you to school would require money."

"I know."

"And right now, I don't have enough to do everything."

My heart sank.

I had expected that answer.

Still, hearing it hurt.

"I understand," I whispered.

Dad looked at me.

"I don't want you to think I'm refusing because I don't care about your education."

"Sometimes it feels like you don't care."

The words slipped out.

The moment they left my mouth, I regretted them.

I lowered my head.

"I'm sorry."

Dad became quiet.

The room suddenly felt heavier.

Then he sighed.

"Maya."

I looked up.

"I don't know what happened to me."

His voice was low.

"I don't know when I became so distant from you."

I didn't say anything.

He looked down at his hands.

"When your mother was alive, everything felt different."

My throat tightened.

"I know."

"I thought I could handle everything after she died."

He paused.

"But I couldn't."

His eyes became slightly red.

"I was grieving."

I nodded.

"I know."

"I thought working harder would make everything easier."

He gave a small, bitter smile.

"It didn't."

I watched him quietly.

"I kept telling myself that if I fixed the business, everything else would eventually fall into place."

He shook his head.

"But while I was trying to fix everything else, I stopped noticing you."

My eyes filled with tears.

"I didn't mean to."

I wiped my cheek.

"I know."

Dad looked at me.

"But that doesn't make it okay."

I stared at him.

"I should have noticed when you stopped asking me for things."

He swallowed.

"I should have noticed when you stopped talking to me."

Another tear slipped down my cheek.

"I should have noticed that you were growing up."

My lips trembled.

"I didn't know how to reach you anymore."

Dad looked at me for a long moment.

Then he said softly,

"You shouldn't have had to."

I looked down.

"I missed you."

His eyes became watery.

"I missed you too."

For a few seconds, neither of us moved.

Then Dad reached out his hand toward me.

I looked at it.

Slowly, I placed my hand in his.

His fingers closed around mine.

He squeezed gently.

"I'm sorry, Maya."

My tears began falling again.

"I don't know what came over me all these years."

His voice cracked slightly.

"But you are still my daughter."

I nodded.

"I know."

"No matter what happened, that will never change."

I couldn't hold back anymore.

"I missed the way we used to be."

Dad's eyes glistened.

"So did I."

He gently pulled my hand closer.

I stared at our hands for a moment.

Then I moved from the chair and sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Dad put an arm around my shoulders.

I leaned against him.

The moment I felt his arm around me, something inside me broke.

I started crying.

Not because he had said anything hurtful.

But because I had missed this.

I had missed feeling like I was his little girl.

For a moment, I wasn't the girl who spent most of her time doing chores.

I wasn't the girl who had stopped asking for things because she was afraid of being mocked.

I wasn't the girl who had been left behind while everyone else continued with their lives.

I was simply Maya.

His daughter.

The little girl who used to run into his arms.

The little girl who believed her father could fix anything.

Dad rested his cheek gently against the top of my head.

"I'm sorry."

I closed my eyes.

"It's okay."

"It's not."

He tightened his arm around me slightly.

"I should have been there for you."

I wiped my tears.

"I know you were busy."

"Being busy isn't an excuse."

I didn't answer.

We stayed like that for a while.

The room was quiet.

No television.

No voices from downstairs.

No one calling our names.

Just the two of us.

For the first time in years, it felt like we had found a small piece of what we used to have.

Eventually, Dad pulled back slightly so he could look at me.

"I still don't want you working outside."

My smile faded.

I looked at him.

"I understand."

"But..."

He paused.

"You shouldn't have to struggle for every personal thing you need."

I looked at him, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll give you some money every week."

I blinked.

"Every week?"

He nodded.

"For your personal needs."

I stared at him.

"Really?"

"Yes."

My eyes widened.

I didn't know what to say.

A smile slowly appeared on my face.

"Thank you, Dad."

He smiled faintly.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I do."

I laughed softly through my tears.

"I really do."

Dad squeezed my hand.

"I should have done this earlier."

I shook my head.

"It's okay."

He looked at me.

"No. It's not."

Then his expression softened.

"But I'm going to try to do better."

My smile grew.

He continued,

"And we'll talk about your education again."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Hope immediately returned to my eyes.

"I don't know when or how yet."

I nodded.

"But we'll talk about it."

I smiled.

"Okay."

For the first time in a long while, I felt lighter.

It wasn't a promise that everything would suddenly become perfect.

Dad still had problems with the company.

I still didn't know when I would return to school.

I still didn't know what my future would look like.

But at least he had listened.

He had heard me.

And he had finally understood that I wasn't asking for much.

I wasn't asking for an expensive life.

I wasn't asking to escape my family.

I only wanted a little independence.

I wanted to be able to buy the things I needed without feeling ashamed.

And I wanted a chance to build a future of my own.

That night, when I returned to my room, I sat on the edge of my bed for a long time.

I kept thinking about our conversation.

Dad was going to give me money every week.

It wasn't a lot.

It wouldn't suddenly change my life.

If I needed pads, I could buy them.

If I needed underwear, I wouldn't have to stand awkwardly in front of someone asking.

If I needed something small for myself, I wouldn't have to feel like I was asking for too much.

And maybe the most important thing wasn't even the money.

It was the fact that Dad had finally noticed.

He had noticed that I was struggling.

He had noticed that I had grown up.

He had noticed that somewhere along the way, his little girl had become a young woman who didn't know how to ask for help anymore.

I lay down and pulled the blanket over myself.

A small smile remained on my face.

For a little while, I allowed myself to imagine a different future.

A future where I went back to school.

A future where I had a career.

A future where I could earn my own money.

A future where I didn't have to depend on anyone for every little thing.

I didn't know if any of it would happen.

But that night, I didn't want to think about everything that could go wrong.

I only wanted to hold on to the feeling I had when Dad hugged me.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like his daughter again.

And for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to hope.