Millionth

"Good god Tiffany, do we still have to discuss this again?" Here we go again. No one was able to see that this was going to happen-not when we were so happy and peaceful yesterday night.

"Of course we should!" And here I am again, screaming my lungs out, yelling my anger out. The other is the same too. Just like splashing venom to each other and none of us will stop until our skins are peeling out or when our bones started melting.

"We went through this millions of times already! Why can't you understand?" It's also the millionth time that we fought in this very living room.

"How can I understand when I saw that...that woman?" The millionth time that I brought it up.

"She's my secretary!" The same reply for the millionth time.

"Your secretary? Your secretary that follows you 24/7? Is that what you call a secretary ?" I wonder when we will stop.

"It's her job! What do you think she's supposed to do? Sit down on her desk all day?" I want to sit down and cuddle in her arms like we used to back when we were teenagers. Sharing heat under the chilly starry night. I wonder if we'll ever get to do it again.

"Yes!" Yeah I guess we could do it again.

"Just! God! You're so hard on the head! Why can't you understand? It’s just work!" If only we could have understanding. If only I could just simply understand. Even for the millionth time.

"Because I can't find a way to understand it!" If only I could find a way to do so.

"You're the one who’s making this difficult. If you weren't so coop with your jealousy, things wouldn't be like this!" I wish things would become simple; the pictures on the desk for example. I want the simple things between us to come back. It's so hard being tangled in this difficult mess.

"Oh now it's my fault? Huh? Sure blame it on your worried wife who has been waiting for you late in the night only to see my husband with another woman." My husband. My sweet, beautiful kind husband. Erika. Her wife. Me. Tiffany.

"Another woman? Are you even hearing yourself? My god! Tiffany! Why is it hard for you to UNDERSTAND?!" Angry. She's angry, so angry at me. At me who’s filled with so much insecurities even after she had reassured me millions of times. After we got married three years ago.

It wasn’t easy, being in a same-sex relationship and more so being married. We have been through a lot of things in the past and even in the present. It was tough escaping those judgmental eyes and hurtful lips but we pulled through. I wonder about it today though.

Our picture, the one in the middle, she took it, raised it above her head—No, no, don't shatter it.

If you do...it'll shatter me.

But she never moved after that. She stood still, eyes burning in rage clashing with my own—but it wasn't fuming in anger anymore—mouth open in the process of yelling and right arm still raised over her head with the very picture frame clutch in her hold. It stopped, everything stopped.

Because I heard the sound of sobbing—the same hurt tune I became familiar with after all this years. I don't know what came over me but I started to walk, leaving Erika in her same position, never moving, and I ended in front of the mirror—the mirror inside of our room—but what I saw wasn't me. It was a little girl in a bright flowery sun dress but her face was stained with salty tears—far from matching the jolly of her attire.

It was me. The me from years before. Then she walked away giving me a clear view of what was in the background. A small television set, a sofa, a carpet, and windows—it was our living room from before. I suddenly saw me with my father. He was on the phone and I gave him something like a drawing—most probably about my family—but he just picked it up and threw it on the sink—he never looked at it—and I just walked away, tears on my eyes.

That's right. My father never gave a single damn about me-he did the same thing to my beloved mother. Just days after that, he left without a word and I helped him with his luggage because I thought back then that we were going on a vacation or a trip, anywhere that has us, together but we didn't went on a trip. He just took the luggage from my hands, put it in the trunk, got inside the car and left.

I remembered the pain I felt on that day, my little heart breaking into millions of pieces. It was a wonder actually. How can something that was already broken, break even further? But it did. The millions of tears I shed. The pain that I carried all through this years. The pain of having your father leave you, the pain of seeing your mother pass away right in front of your eyes on her very own bed, the pain of growing up with no one, the pain of never having a beautiful childhood.

The pain of experiencing pain.

I don't want to feel it again. No, no more, not again. Not to my understanding and loving husband and not to my sweet little angel. So I ran back, hurry in my footsteps and almost tripping on the way. I was back, back to the living room and Tae was still there, in the exact position, and I was glad she didn't move.

Glad that she didn't shattered our family picture. Glad that she didn't shatter my heart all over again.

"Eri…" A small whisper left my lips raising my hand to take the picture she has on her hand and then she moved. She let go. I walked past her and went to the table before placing it back on to its original position between a series pictures of us before I came back to her again she was looking at me, following my every movement with her warm brown eyes then I hugged her, wrapping my arms around her and she eventually hugged me back too.

It feels so good being in her arms again. A relieved sigh escaped her lips. I pulled back but her grip on my waist was tight, secured, afraid to let me go—as if I'm going to do that again—and kissed her pouring all my love into it and she responded back. Every tug, every peck, they conveyed things that were etched deep inside of our hearts.

I then pulled away, breathless like I always am whenever I end up staring at her loving eyes. They're so deep, so deep I find myself drowning on it. I hugged her once again and put my lips to her ear.

"I'm sorry." It was such a feeble whisper as if I was afraid that when someone else hear it, something's going to shatter, that I will shatter and I was glad I did because I couldn't find my voice, not after I apologized for the millionth time.

"Don't be. I'm sorry too." And she replied back with her tone filled with sincerity, one of the reasons why I fell in love with her.

"Mommy?" My sweet little angel came out of her room, her favorite stuff frog in her arms, tears in her delicate eyes. Our daughter. My lovely little daughter.

"Come to Daddy sweetie." The millionth time Erika hugged our daughter and lifted her up in her arms. Catherine is the name we gave her. Our little girl rested her head on her father's shoulder for the millionth time before closing her eyes with me brushing her hair while we walk back into our room.

"Goodnight honey." Two kisses on her forehead, one from me and one from Erika for the millionth time and I tucked her in. Finally we settled on our bed looking at each other with our daughter in between and I couldn't ask for anything anymore. I'm so contented, so happy after millions of pain.

"I love you." Love for the millionth time.

"I love you too." And love back for the millionth time.