Mother's Daughter, Daughter's Home

The sky above the village of Bayangan seemed heavy with sorrow. Long before Lina took her first breath, tragedy had already marked her fate. Her father, a man of power and many wives, was killed in a brutal dispute over land and inheritance. He left behind a world filled with anger, jealousy, and children who were forced to fight for survival. When the news reached Lina’s mother, she was already heavy with child. The pain was so sharp it felt like her heart had been torn out. She fell to her knees, her hands clutching her swollen belly. "He is gone... my husband is gone..." she whispered, her voice trembling uncontrollably. Tears blurred her vision, turning the green rice fields into a watery blur of grief. "What will become of us? How can I raise a child in this place full of hatred?" The days passed in a dark fog. When the time came for her to give birth, the small hut was filled with tension. The midwives moved quietly, their faces pale and worried. It was a difficult labor, long and agonizing, mirroring the suffering of the family. Suddenly, the room filled with weak cries. Not one, but two. "Twins!" an old midwife gasped. "Allah has given you two, my child." But joy was a stranger in that house. One baby was too small, too fragile. She fought for air for only a few moments, then her tiny body went still. She was wrapped quickly in an old cloth and buried near the banana trees, a silent secret kept by the earth. Only Lina survived, clinging to life with a stubborn strength that surprised everyone. Her mother looked at the tiny, crying infant in her arms. She looked at the empty space where her husband should have been. The pain was too much to bear. Her mind snapped. "I cannot do this," she sobbed bitterly. "I cannot stay here where they will hate my child. I cannot live like this." In a moment of desperate madness, she made a decision. She carried Lina to the town hospital. She left the baby on a bench, wrapped in a rough blanket. A fresh umbilical cord stump, and a heart already marked by abandonment. Dr. Elena Reyes found her. The kind doctor held the small bundle, her heart breaking into pieces. "Poor little one," she murmured softly. "Left behind like trash. Don't worry, I will adopt you. I will give you a good life and a future." But fate had other plans. The news reached the elders of Lina’s father’s family. They were powerful Muslims, proud and strict. They could not allow their bloodline to be raised by strangers. A group of stern men arrived at the hospital. Their leader, an old man with eyes full of authority and pride, spoke directly to the doctor. "Hand over the child," he commanded firmly. "She is our son’s daughter. She is our blood." "But she was abandoned," Dr. Elena argued gently. "I can give her a home and education." "She will be raised in our compound," the elder said, cutting her off. "She will learn our ways. Take her away." And so, Lina was taken back to the place of ghosts. She grew up in the shadow of her grandparents' house. Her grandfather was strict but had a kind heart. Her grandmother was the queen of the house, hardworking and loving. But for Lina, life was a constant battle. Her father had other wives. Those women looked at Lina with cold, jealous eyes. She was the child of the "late wife," the "new one." She did not belong. "Look at her, so thin, so weak," they would whisper behind her back. "Her mother ran away like a thief. She is useless, just like her mother." Lina grew up hearing these words. She learned them before she learned how to read. When food was scarce, her plate was the last to be filled. Sometimes, it was empty. "Where is my food?" Lina would ask timidly, her stomach growling. "Forgotten," her cousins would sneer, laughing at her. "You eat too much for an orphan. Go work, go fetch water! That is what you are here for." She was forced to carry heavy pots of water from the well. Her small shoulders ached terribly. One hot afternoon, as she struggled with a heavy pot, Fatima, the daughter of the first wife, deliberately bumped into her hard. SPLASH! The water spilled everywhere, soaking Lina’s thin clothes and the dusty ground. "Watch where you are going, you clumsy outsider!" Fatima shouted, her voice sharp and mean. "I... I am sorry," Lina stammered, her cheeks burning with shame. "Sorry? Your mother was sorry for giving birth to you!" Fatima laughed cruelly. Then, she kicked mud right into Lina’s face. "You smell like dirt! Clean it up!" Lina tried to stand up, but Fatima grabbed her arm and pinched her hard. Twisting the skin until it turned blue and black. "Ouch! Stop it! It hurts!" Lina cried out, tears falling down. "That is for talking back!" Fatima hissed and pushed her down hard on the ground. "You are nothing here, Lina. No one wants you. Your mother left you." (Fatima’s POV) Fatima felt satisfied seeing Lina in pain. She is so weak, so easy to bully, she thought. But I hate her because Father loves her a little bit. She should not exist. She is a reminder that my father had other women. The pain was physical, but the words were sharper than knives. Lina learned to be quiet. She learned to hide her tears. But inside, a fire was burning. One day, the bullying became too much. A boy, larger and stronger, threw a stone and hit her head. Blood ran down her face, hot and sticky. The pain, the anger, the years of being bullied—everything exploded inside her. "You hit me?" Lina screamed, her eyes turning red with rage. "You hurt me?" She saw a heavy bolo lying on the ground. In her blind rage, she grabbed it and swung it hard, hitting the boy on the head. THUD! The boy fell down. Everyone was shocked. Lina stood there, breathing hard, holding the knife, looking like a small but fierce warrior. The next day, the boy’s family came to the house. But they didn't come to fight. They came to propose marriage. "She hurt our son," the father said with a smirk. "So she must marry him. She will become his wife and serve him. That is the payment." Lina was only fourteen years old. She looked at her grandparents, hoping they would protect her. "Grandmother, please don't let me go," Lina begged, holding onto her skirt tightly. "I don't want to marry him. He is cruel. He will torture me!" Her grandmother looked down, tears in her eyes, but her voice was resigned. "Anak, we have no choice. They are rich. They will give us dowry to feed the family. It is decided." "Decided?" Lina felt her heart break into pieces. "Even you? Even you will sell me? I thought you loved me!" (Grandmother’s POV) Her grandmother’s heart was bleeding. I am sorry, my child, she thought. But life is hard. We are hungry. This is the only way. Please forgive me. Lina ran outside. The wind was cold, but her heart was colder. They wanted to send her to the lion's den. They wanted her to suffer. "No," she whispered, wiping her tears fiercely. "I will not go. I would rather die than be his wife." That night, she packed a small bag. She took the little money she had saved from working. She looked at the house one last time. "Goodbye, Bayangan. Goodbye to everyone who hurt me." She ran. She ran into the dark night, alone, scared, but free. She ran towards the city, hoping to find a new life, not knowing that the world outside was even more dangerous.