Maybe

The happiest days of my life? That was two years ago.
My father and I used to spend a lot of time together. We used to bike around our little town each morning and pick flowers on our way home for Mom. We went fishing every weekend and go to ice cream parlor after that. We were just always together that people end up asking if I got sick when Dad passes by their house alone. Or if I was sent to Iowa to help my Uncle Henry raise his pigs. Well, that was only two years ago.

And the years after that has always been a nightmare for me. A terrible nightmare that I tried so hard to forget but can't. A nightmare that haunts me down every night when I fall asleep.

It was probably the worst nightmare that has yet to come. I hated it. I hate it the way I hate my father. And most of all, I hate myself for still hoping that one day, everything will go back to normal because you know, things like that don't just happen. It shouldn't just happen. It must not just happen.

A daughter like me who performs her best, a daughter like me who does every single thing even silly things just to make her father happy should not be abandoned like this. A family like mine should not be ruined like this. A house like ours should not be divided as this.

I watched my Mom put the food on the table. Her hair is not properly combed and her eyes are swollen from crying. She is also wearing an unusual attire for breakfast. And my father, he is already sitting there while reading a newspaper. If you look at it in someone else's perspective, you might see it as a normal morning for a normal family. However, in my case, it's all too different and all too painful for me to even describe how it feels.
"Honey, breakfast is served. Come here," Mom said using her chirpy and joyful tone. I walked toward the table with hatred.

Slowly, my father lifted his head when I pulled the chair opposite to him. "Sweetheart, that's not your place." He says as if I unintentionally sat in the wrong chair. But I knew better. I knew better not to be fooled again. So I looked at him with a hundred questions in my mind and eyes that refuse to describe what I'm feeling.
Why did you choose to leave us?
Aren't we enough for a family?
What did we do for you to let go?
Why are you abandoning us?
How dare you!

"I simply didn't want to be near to the wrong father," I hissed. His expression changed from being guilty to being hurt. Ha, take that!
"Kat!" my Mom sent me a glare. But I was so drowned with hatred that I can't even stop myself from biting my inside lip so I wouldn't cry. I put some food on my plate and started eating.
"Kat, since when did you eat meat for breakfast?" He sounded as though he really cares for me when in fact he doesn't.
"Since I am old enough to realize you don't care for us anymore." I answered with bitterness in my voice. He shouldn't be eating breakfast with us in the first place.
"Watch your words, Katrina. He's still your father!" Mom shouted at me.
I stood up. "Oh yeah? My father? The last time I checked, he left us for another woman!" I bursted in mixed emotions and the tears continuously flowed. When my father tried to come near me, I just pushed him away.
"Katrina, talk to me!" he said.
"No thanks," then I stormed out of the room with my pride on. But instead of smirking, I slapped myself and bite back a sob. Why are they like this? We were a happy family, the kind of family you wanted yours to be.
My mother and my father were the best couple. They exchange gifts every anniversary. They kiss each other goodnight. They are just the couple you never expect to split after 14 years of marriage. But well, they did.
"Katrina talk to me, please." I heard him as he followed me outside. "You know, I didn't mean it to be like this between you and I."
I kicked the nearest pebble I could find.
"You didn't mean it? That's all you wanted to say?" I shouted at him. There's just no way that I'll understand why he did this.

He sighed, "You see, I do love you and your mom but..." he trailed off. And although crying would totally make him think I'm weak, I don't care. It's just the simplest thing I could ever do at that moment without hurting myself.

"But you love them more, don't you?" I asked. And for the faintest second, I could only hear my heart that is slowly beating in my chest as he said, "Yeah."

That was all it takes for me to completely lose it. For almost a year now I've been trying to hide this. I actually have no one to talk to. After Dad had clearly stated that he loves his second family more than us, I never had an idea of how to tell them this: I have a weak heart and oftentimes, I could hardly breathe. And as the day pass by without him, it's getting worse. I'm just too afraid to accept that I have a heart problem. That my heart could hardly pump blood and it's getting hard for me to survive. But the most painful thing I ever experienced is losing him.

I tried to breathe but I can't. I breathed again but still can't.

"What's wrong? Katrina please..." He held me in his arms but now, I didn't push him away. Maybe it's best if I die in his arms. Maybe my life's just going to end this way. Maybe they'll be happier if I go. Maybe my death will keep my parents closer. Maybe.