I work in Maynila and live in Batangas. This year I have turned 30, my parents and relatives have been constantly asking me to get married. Last Diwali, my mother called and said: “If someone is coming, bring him home so we can prepare, don’t take into account the exact age.” ”

To be honest, I also decided to seriously get in touch with Anvi, who has been my girlfriend for almost a year. She is very polite, knows how to behave and also knows how to cook well. I thought, if my parents agree, we will think of getting married after the festival.

That day, I had already told my mother that I would be bringing Anvi home. So delighted, she asked me to buy some presents from home – a box of sweets and some fruit – and then come back for dinner. On the way, I teased Anvi and said: “Don’t worry, my parents are not difficult but very sweet, just keep smiling, that’s all.” ”

But as soon as we entered the courtyard, and could put down the bag of gifts, Father suddenly stood up, his face flushed, and pointed to Anvi:

“Get out of my house now! Fucking bitch!”

Anvi was stunned, and I was speechless. There was hatred in my father’s voice. Gritting his teeth and coming closer, he said: “People like you are not welcome in our house. Mom ran out of the kitchen to stop us, but Dad screamed loudly. The atmosphere was suffocating and tense.

My younger sister, Pooja, hurriedly pulled Anvi out and whispered: “You two go to the street corner shop for tea, wait for me, don’t worry.” I followed them outside, pretending to buy fruit at the grocery store, but my heart was burning like fire. Why did Dad do this? Anvi had never met him before, so why was he so angry as if we already knew each other?

As soon as I entered the shop, I eagerly opened my phone and looked at the camera in the house. My heart sank when I saw the picture that came out.

Papa broke the teapot, pushing the chair repeatedly. Mother sat in the corner of the living room with her face covered, crying, screaming: “You’re sick, but I don’t want to be treated. At home, sometimes conscious, sometimes confused. It takes such a toll on the children, who can afford it?”

I quickly messaged Pooja as I was afraid that Anvi would find out. She told that the last time Papa fell, he had a concussion. The doctor had said that he was showing signs of old age, his memory had become weak. For the past few days, whenever they see a little girl, they… Think about that.

I suddenly understood who “she” was – my biological mother, Neelam – the same woman who had cheated on me and my father and left me for someone else 25 years ago. I still remember that day clearly, Papa was kneeling in the middle of the courtyard, holding a picture of a torn wedding, and crying out Mom’s name with a choked throat. Since then, they have lived in solitude, and never mentioned them again. Perhaps the wound had been buried for decades, but now due to illness it had resurfaced, as terrible and shocking as the day before.

I was silent, my heart sank. I felt so sorry for my father and for my mother – the man who didn’t give birth to me but has been taking care of a human being for so many years with so many wounds in her heart. Anvi put her hand on my shoulder without saying anything. Perhaps she also understood that this was unexpected.

That day, we just had a quick meal—dal, sabzi, some rotis—and my father didn’t come to sit with us. My mother secretly took out more lentils for Anvi, persuading her: “Son, don’t take it to heart, when he is calm, it will be different. ”

On her way back to Maynila, Anvi held my hand: “I don’t blame you. Your father needs treatment and you need time too. When things get better, let’s talk about marriage. ”

I nodded. Suddenly, I realised that marriage is not just about two people. It’s also about old pain, unheard memories, and responsibilities towards loved ones. I needed to spend more time with my father and family. And if possible, I will take my other mother and Pooja to the hospital in Batangas to start their proper treatment—so that the past does not disturb us in the future.