After a short, panicked phone call to my sister to get details, I raced to the bank like something was on fire.

I was the first customer through the door that morning. Something must've been obvious on my face because the CIBC teller paused in the middle of my global money transfer and asked if I was okay. It was Maricris again—the same woman who happily told me my parents were lucky to have me months ago when I was sending them their anniversary gift.

"My father just had a stroke," I told her, my voice a little shaky. "They're doing a lot of tests on him and monitoring his progress but they're not sure yet if there are complications."

I didn't notice a tear falling until it splashed on the counter. I brushed it away, took a deep breath and forced a smile for the teller.

She held out a box of tissue to me and I grabbed a couple sheets with an embarrassed thank you.

"It's hard to believe it right now but be strong. Things will be alright," she said kindly.

Of course, things will be alright—they had to be alright.

But I couldn't sit and wait around. I had to go and see for myself that my family was alright.

I'd already scheduled my month-long vacation a while ago, timing it to start on my brother's graduation at the end of March. I hadn't taken any vacation time at all in the last two and a half years so I'd been looking forward to the trip. But I was supposed to leave in two weeks but two weeks of waiting and worrying was going to be unbearable. I called the airlines where my tickets have been booked to find out how much extra it would cost me to move up my flight. I told them of my emergency and with God's mercy, the agent on the phone told me he would move it for me for free. All I had to do was just talk to Dolores and Marilou about leaving early because it would mess up the schedule. But both women were very understanding and they called a bunch of my coworkers to see who could cover some of my shifts. And because we Filipinos knew exactly what it was to be in each other's shoes, there was no shortage of volunteers to help me out. I was sobbing as I thanked and hugged Dolores and Marilou before heading out.

I went home and started packing. I set aside money in different envelopes and labeled them for the different expenses in the apartment that I contribute to. I would leave it with Helen to make sure they have it when it was time to pay the bills while I was away.

David.

He was the last person on my list—not because he wasn't important but because he would be the most difficult to say goodbye to.

Fortunately, he was out of town. He'd left this morning for a conference in Toronto and he wouldn't be back until the weekend. That was the reason why we stayed together longer last night and why he'd stated his intentions then. We wouldn't see each other for a few days and it would give me time to think about what he was asking for.

But I wouldn't be here when he gets back.

I wouldn't even get to hug him or kiss him before I leave.

I could call him on his cell but I didn't want to drop this news on him. He would worry about me the whole time he was in the conference. I didn't want to do that to him.

The next day, on my way to the airport, I had Edgar, my roommate with the old car, stop by at David's house so I could leave him the winter jacket he'd lent me once and a note that would hopefully explain why I'd suddenly gone from his life.

I could be stronger about it this way.

I had no idea I was holding my breath until I started writing the note on the kitchen counter, the words blurring in my vision full of tears.

I had told him that I had a long visit planned with my family two weeks from now. It was probably another reason why he'd asked for my decision last night. It was only a matter of time before we had to wake up to the bigger reality of our situation. But now we wouldn't even have that chance.

David,

My father had a stroke and my family needs me. I'll be back in the Philippines by the time you come home and read this note. I hate that I didn't get to say goodbye to you properly but I know that it's easier this way.

Thank you for everything—you have no idea how happy I was in all our time together.

I don't know what the future looks like when I come back in a month but in case I never see you in it again, I want you to know that I'll still be glad to have known you.

I hope you keep taking care of yourself.

And I hope you'll be happy.

Love,

Diana

It felt like I was on the plane forever. My legs were numb and my back hurt from sitting in the economy flight for over twenty hours. I managed to snatch a few hours of sleep here and there but it was hard to rest fully considering how cramped all the passengers were in the seats and that a couple of babies were constantly crying in the background. Despite the discomfort, I didn't my mind was really only preoccupied with two things—how my family was doing and how David was going to take the news of my sudden departure.

A hollow pain in my chest had been there since I got the news about my father but I knew that it intensified at the physical act of putting myself on a plane and leaving David and the life I'd started to imagine with him behind me.

Thankfully, I didn't have a lot of time to think about him too much as soon as I landed in Manila. My brother and sister were there waiting for me and we probably spent half an hour just hugging each other and crying. We haven't seen each other in a long time and even though I'd seen them through video chats and pictures, I hadn't quite realized how much they'd grown.

"I can't believe you've grown so tall, Luis!" I was telling my brother as I helped him load the balikbayan box I'd brought with me into the baggage cart. I'd been slowly filling it in the past six months and was thankfully almost full when I suddenly had to fly back home two weeks early. "And you're not so skinny anymore."

"Do you know he's courting a girl from his class?" Abigail said, grinning without guilt when Luis glared at her. "It's been six months now and she still hasn't given him an answer. I don't think he knows what he's doing."

"Do I tell Ate your secrets?" Luis said. "Do I tell her that you went on a date with that basketball coach to make Anton jealous and pay attention?"

Abigail didn't look guilty at all. She just laughed and winked at me. "Sometimes, a girl's got to do what she's got to do."

The entire ride home in my Dad's old AUV (asian utility vehicle) that Luis now drives for the family was full of laughter and bantering with both my siblings and I enjoyed every second of it. I knew I'd missed this but I didn't know just how much. We dropped off my luggage at the house before going to the hospital where my mother was staying with my father.

My heart squeezed when I saw the small form of my mother hunched in her chair next to my father's hospital bed in the semi-private ward. She was always a woman full of energy and purpose, easily managing a rowdy family, running the family business and dealing with customers who weren't always easy. Right now, she seemed tired and sad.

"Nay." My voice was small and quiet but my shortcut of Nanay was enough to get my mother's attention. She looked up and glanced toward the door, her face brightening up in an instant when she saw me standing there with my siblings. My feet flew me to her side and I wrapped her up in a tight hug, burying my face in her neck as she repeated my name over and over. "I missed you so much, Nay."

She finally pulled away to get a better look at me, her face damp with tears. "Oh, hija, I'm so glad you're home. I'm sorry you had to come home to this but—"

"It doesn't matter what I'm home for," I interrupted gently. "The important thing is I'm here. That I'm home with all of you."

"I hope we didn't give you too much trouble," my mother said with a sigh. "We didn't want to give you any problems at work or have you send more money."

"Money is just money, Nay. I wanted to make sure you had something to get Tatay all the help he needed."

My mother shook her head. "The money you sent arrived right away but I actually just used the money you'd sent us for the trip to Baguio."

My heart broke a little. "But Nay—"

"No, Diana. It was better used to pay the hospital bills," my mother insisted stubbornly. "I know you work too hard and you save everything you earn to send to us. You don't ever do anything for yourself. But let us do what we can to make sure your hard work isn't wasted."

I smiled at my mother. "Fine. I'll just make sure that you can go next year, when Tatay is strong and healthy again."

A tiny sound came from beside us and my mother and I both turned to see my father watching us. He was in a hospital gown, his hair much thinner and grayer than when I last saw him, a thin tube of oxygen attached on his nose. The biggest physical change in him hit me the hardest. The left side of his face had sagged as if the muscles on his cheek and jaw were about to slide down. His mouth was parted open and he seemed to be speaking but all that came out were broken sounds that weren't understandable.

My mother touched my arm and quietly said, "He became fully awake this morning and the doctor said that he will have trouble speaking. It could happen with stroke victims. Sometimes it goes away, sometimes it doesn't."

I fought tears as I stepped closer to my father and took his hand in mine. His fingers gave mine a weak squeeze as I sat down on the bed beside him and gave him a smile. "Hello, Tay. I'm home now. Did you miss me?"

He moved his head as if to nod, his eyes crinkling in the corners as if to show a smile that his mouth couldn't quite form. I laughed through my tears and carefully leaned in to put my arms around my father's frail shoulders. "I missed you too, Tay. I was so worried about you."

My father couldn't say much to me but I was still glad to be able to hear the steady beating of his heart. My mother stepped in and put her arms around the both of us and I just closed my eyes and felt a deep sense of peace.

We were able to bring him home a couple days later. He was on a lot of medication and a strict diet but the doctor felt he was stable enough to continue recovering at home as long as we brought him in for a series of check ups later. All of us fussed over him to make sure he was comfortable, giving him a notepad and pencil as a means to communicate to us. His hand wasn't very strong and his writing wasn't very good either but it was clear enough to read. We finally had to go back to a more normal routine after he wrote a note telling all of us to stop fussing.

My mother reopened her carinderia. My sister was back to teaching daily and my brother resumed finalizing his paperwork for graduation. For me—well, I finally had time to get settled in for the first time since I arrived. I shared the bedroom with Abigail as we did growing up. I helped my mother with the carinderia, serving some food and even catching up with some of her regulars who'd seen me grow up over the years. I also surveyed the house, noting the repairs that my family had made in the last couple years—a new tin roof to replace the old, leaky ones, new beams by the living room where the old ones had been eaten away by termites, and a new toilet in the only bathroom in the house which now came with a flusher. There were still more repairs that I wanted to make, which made me think again about Dolores's offer to extend my contract by another year. If I worked an extra year, I could earn more. Abigail and Luis would have their own jobs to support themselves which meant I could save more for my own future—maybe to buy my own house or go back to school to take my masters or something like that. I didn't mention it to my family yet but I felt that they wouldn't really oppose especially if they know that I'm doing it more for myself this time. So I emailed Dolores to tell her yes, I would work an extra year, and to start processing my papers for it.

Later that week, Abigail brought home her boyfriend, Anton, for me to meet. He was a very nice, young man with good manners and eyes that were practically shining every time he looked at my sister. Oh, he loved her, alright, and I was genuinely happy for her. Then one day, I went to meet Luis in campus for lunch. He gave me a little tour of the university where I also studied, just to show me the old and the new. I enjoyed remembering most of my college days—writing in the paper, doing news reporting, volunteering in the school theatre, joining debate competitions. It was a time of having fun and feeling invincible—like I could be at the top of the world. The only memories of college I didn't enjoy as much were those I had with Bryan. He was the last person I wanted to see but I ran into him at a local cafe near campus where I was waiting to meet a couple of my old college friends for an afternoon coffee.

"So, are you home for good?" he asked after we had the initial polite greetings.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure yet."

"Of course, you're not," he answered sarcastically. "You still have to feed your family, of course."

Instead of getting angry at his sarcastic comment, I saw everything about him go into focus as if I was seeing for the first time for the man that he really was. He would always be immature and selfish and he would never understand. He would never be like David. He would never respect me and take pride in what I believed in and stood for. He would never be generous with his heart and kind in understanding the crosses some people have no choice but to carry in life. And I was so relieved to have made the decision to walk away from him almost three years ago. I thought my heart was broken when I lost him but really, I only did myself a favor. I would've been so unhappy living a life with a man like him.

"I don't expect you to ever understand me, Bryan, and I think that's why you'll have a hard time becoming happy in life. You don't know what it's like to love deeply," I said calmly, even with a small smile for him. "Still, I wish you all the best. Take care."

He did not like my comment but said nothing before leaving. I felt lighter all of a sudden, as if the weight of my doubts about leaving him before had been lifted off my shoulders. There was no doubt now. It had definitely been the right choice. I enjoyed the afternoon catching up with my two closest friends from college, laughing at old memories and sharing our new ones. One of them, Sara, was newly engaged, and Gracie just had a baby after her wedding a year ago. She'd brought her daughter, Amelia, with her and I instantly adored the little angel.

I took a jeepney (a popular means of public transit in the Philippines) home, happy to just curl up in my seat and lean out of the window to watch the busy, crowded streets of Binangonan like I did growing up. It helped clear my mind—losing myself in the chaos of traffic and the various scenes of life.

I knew I was happy—or at least I was supposed to be happy. I was home, back in the company of my family and friends, back to all the food and culture I'd missed, back to the memories of a life I hadn't wanted to leave behind almost three years ago. And I guess, in a way, I was happy. But not as happy as I thought I would be.

David.

I missed him. I missed our quiet evenings together. I missed holding his hand or leaning my head against his shoulder. I missed his smiles, his intelligent conversations, the way he made me smile.

If I was going back an extra year, maybe I wouldn't have to give him up.

Maybe he would still want me back.

"Diana!"

I could hear my mother calling my name just as I got off the pedicab that brought me back home. I paid the pedicab driver more than the short five-minute ride actually cost me. He was probably no more than sixteen. Driving a pedicab (a version of a bicycle with a sidecar that could carry about two people) was a physically demanding job even if they only served to transport in short distances—usually from where jeepneys would drop you off at the main road, to take people into smaller neighbourhoods.

I carried the two bags of sweet, ripe mangoes I'd bought from a sidewalk vendor on my way home and went into the house just as my mother practically ran out to meet me.

"What took you so long?" she asked before she took the bags from me, grabbed my hand and dragged me inside. "We thought you'd be back home an hour ago."

My mother was acting a little strange but I still answered her. "I stayed longer with Sara and Gracie and then I just visited some stores. I bought some mangoes and—"

The words dived back in my throat and I suddenly stopped walking.

There, in the middle of our living room, surrounded by my family, even my father in his wheelchair, was David Kemble.

He'd come for me.