Chapter 7 — The Visit
490 Words
The first time Rizal’s family came to the house, she was not prepared.
It happened on a Sunday afternoon near harvest season.
The air smelled of drying rice and smoke from burned leaves while her grandmother prepared tea in the kitchen. She had spent the morning helping in the paddy field and was washing mud from her feet behind the house when she heard unfamiliar voices inside.
Men’s voices.
She froze immediately.
Carefully, she stepped closer toward the wooden window and peeked through the thin curtain.
Rizal’s father sat inside their living room beside two older relatives. Neatly dressed. Serious-faced. Her grandfather sat opposite them looking uncomfortable while her grandmother poured tea quietly with trembling hands.
Her heartbeat quickened.
She already knew.
Even before hearing the words.
“…a good girl,” Rizal’s father was saying.
“Everyone in the village knows that.”
Her grandfather forced a small smile.
“She’s still studying.”
“Of course. We respect that.”
The older man leaned back calmly.
“But it’s better to discuss these things early.”
The girl stepped away from the window as though burned.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Discussion.
Such a harmless word.
Yet suddenly it felt terrifying.
She remained outside near the back steps pretending to wash vegetables while the adults continued talking inside for nearly an hour.
Nobody called her in.
Nobody asked what she wanted.
That hurt more than she expected.
When the guests finally left, silence swallowed the house almost immediately.
Her grandmother avoided eye contact while collecting empty cups.
Her grandfather sat staring at the floor for a long time before finally speaking.
“They only came to ask politely.”
She said nothing.
“They like you,” he continued carefully.
“Rizal especially.”
Still silence.
“He’s not a bad boy.”
At that, she quietly stood and walked toward her small bedroom before tears could embarrass her.
Inside, she sat beside the window hugging her knees tightly.
Not because she hated Rizal.
But because she suddenly realized her life was beginning to move without waiting for her permission.
Outside, she heard her grandparents speaking in hushed voices.
“She’s too young,” her grandmother whispered.
“And what if better opportunities never come?” her grandfather replied tiredly.
“We are getting older.”
The words pierced her chest unexpectedly.
For the first time, she understood their fear too.
They worried about her future constantly.
Who would protect her after they died?
Who would care for her?
Marriage, to them, was safety.
But to her, it felt like the slow death of every dream she had carefully built in silence all these years.
That evening, she opened her schoolbooks but could not focus on a single word.
Instead, her eyes drifted repeatedly toward the darkening window.
Toward the road leading out of the village.
As though some hidden part of her had already begun searching for escape.
- Writer
