The morgue was colder as Ayisha expected.
She couldn't bring herself towards the unresponsive body of her mother.
Every inch of her body shakes, refusing to believe that the time finally comes to this.
Simon remained a few steps behind her.
He didn't rush her.
Didn't tell her what to do.
Didn't tell her to be strong because he already knew; even though he won't say it she will still do it.
"Ate."
Samantha's voice came through the hallway.
Ayisha turned.
Her younger sister stood there, breathing heavily from running.
Simon looked surprised.
"She told you to stay home," he said quietly.
"How could I stay at home? If I heard what happened to mom." Samantha's eyes were red.
She had clearly been crying.
For a moment, the sisters simply stared at each other.
Neither knew what to say.
Neither wanted to say it.
Because saying it would make it real.
Samantha looked toward the door.
Then back at Ayisha.
"Is it true?"
The question shattered whatever fragile hope remained.
Ayisha opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
How was she supposed to answer that?
How was she supposed to say it?
How was she supposed to tell her little sister that their mother was gone?
The silence was answer enough.
Samantha's face crumpled.
A sob escaped her lips. She shook her head repeatedly.
Ayisha moved before she could think.
She pulled Samantha into her arms.
The younger girl broke down immediately.
The sound of her crying echoed through the hallway.
For the first time, Ayisha realized she couldn't afford to fall apart.
Not completely.
Not now.
Samantha needed her.
Even if she didn't know how to be strong anymore.
---
Later that afternoon, paperwork replaced grief.
Forms.
Signatures.
Questions.
Too many questions.
Every hospital staff member spoke gently.
Too gently.
As if they were afraid she would break if they spoke any louder.
Maybe they were right.
Simon stayed beside her through all of it.
When she needed to sign something, he handed her a pen.
When she forgot what someone had just explained, he listened and repeated it afterward.
When she stared blankly at a document for too long, he quietly reminded her where to sign.
Neither of them talked much.
There wasn't much to say.
---
By evening, they finally returned home.
The apartment felt different.
The same walls.
The same furniture.
The same photographs.
Yet somehow none of it felt familiar anymore.
Samantha immediately disappeared into her room.
The door closed softly behind her.
Ayisha remained standing in the living room.
Her mother's slippers were still beside the couch.
A half-finished crossword puzzle sat on the table.
A pair of reading glasses rested beside it.
As if Maricel would walk back into the room at any moment.
As if nothing had changed.
A painful knot formed in her throat.
She looked away.
Simon set a plastic bag on the dining table.
"I bought food."
"I'm not hungry."
"I know."
Ayisha glanced at him.
"Then why?"
"Because Samantha will be."
The answer silenced her.
Simon looked toward the hallway.
"And eventually, you will too."
Ayisha sank onto the couch.
Exhaustion settled into every part of her body.
Physical.
Mental.
Emotional.
Everything.
The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
Then her phone vibrated.
A message.
From Natalie.
**What happened? The doctor called me but he didn't tell me why.**
Ayisha stared at the screen.
For a long time.
Eventually, she typed three words.
**Mom is gone.**
The reply came almost instantly.
**What?**
Then another.
**Ate, hindi magandang biro yan. **
Another.
**Ate?**
Ayisha lowered the phone.
She couldn't do this right now.
Not yet.
Not when she was barely holding herself together.
Across the room, Simon quietly sat in one of the dining chairs.
Giving her space.
Remaining close enough if she needed him.
The clock ticked.
The refrigerator hummed.
Life continued.
Cruelly.
Normally.
As if the world hadn't just lost someone important.
Ayisha leaned her head against the couch and closed her eyes.
For the first time in years, she didn't know what tomorrow was supposed to look like.