Because not everyone has the courage to move on.

***

It was the perfect day for an outdoor ceremony; warm, but bearable. As Mina positioned herself behind the back door of the house that she and Evan built before the wedding, she heard a pleasant breeze from the north rustling in the surrounding shrubs. She smiled. It fixed the biggest problem that she had when they decided to have an outdoor wedding—how to cool the guests and family members attending their nuptials.

"It's alright, Mina."

She looked behind her and smiled at her wedding planner. The woman was right. She had nothing to worry about. She was finally marrying Evan.

When sweet classical music drifted through the crowd, signaling her that the procession to the makeshift aisle at the back of their house had begun, she took a deep breath.

Soon, the music stopped, and the opening to the bridal chorus started to play.

"It's time," the woman behind her murmured. So Mina took another drag of breath and stepped outside. All heads turned to face her.

The priest began the ceremony with the usual process and after the prayer was over, he asked them for their vows.

To love and hold, for richer and poorer. In sickness or in health. Till death do we part.

***

Mina snapped her eyes open and wondered, when had the last line lost its meaning? A single tear cascaded down her face as her eyes fell on the image of her husband.

He had packed his suitcase one too many times. But with every travel he had done, he always returned to her side. But not anymore. Not on that day. Because his suitcase no longer held a few pieces of clothing. It had all of his belongings.

Their bedroom appeared larger as he boxed his stuff, leaving behind empty spaces on the floor, the walls, and their future. The bedside table where he usually kept his books was disassembled and arranged perfectly inside a carton that came with the television set they bought years ago. The paintings they got during an auction were divided and piled into two separate crates, even those she lovingly made for him. When one of the paintings fell off and landed on the floor, she couldn't help but gaze at the floorboards that cradled it. Those wooden planks were made out of the mahogany tree where she first met him. So she closed her eyes to earn momentary freedom from the pain that consumed her at that moment and drifted to that glorious memory.

It was a windy day. The clouds denied the sun a moment of triumph as they clustered against it. A rare time for Santa Peralta because the place was always sunny. So her fourteen-year-old self begged her parents to let her roam the grounds of their property and as luck would have it, her strict father conceded. She went beyond the fences of her then—family house, ran towards the verdant grass that covered the land and then jogged towards the group of mahogany trees lining the sides of a dirt road that her father said would lead to an empty lot that would serve as her inheritance. There, she twirled and laughed as the wind knocked off some of the leaves from the branches of the tree, pouring over her like tiny green fairies swelling her young heart.

She must have whirled and laughed for quite some time because when she stopped, she found her surroundings spinning uncontrollably. Soon, she lost her balance and fell to the dirt. She was near crying when a hand obscured her sight from gazing at the ground. The hand looked just a bit bigger than hers but smaller than that of her parents, so she tilted her head to look at the person. A smile was what greeted her, and words, "Are you alright?"

"I'm taking the car, Mina. And one more thing, the matter about Carry. I will leave it to you to explain everything to her."

His voice took her out of that memory. Like a whip, his words scarred her. Invisible as the wounds may be—the pain was as real as it could get. His footsteps echoed inside their nearly empty room when he made a beeline toward their bathroom door. She grimaced when he took out his toothbrush and favorite facial wash—sticking them inside the pocket of his bag. She kept her eyes on him as he walked towards their dresser rummaging through the large mahogany cabinet pulling out sheets and his favorite blanket.

Her lips quivered and tears further escaped her eyes when he folded them and forced the material to fit inside his already pregnant case.

That blanket, she thought—as her eyes lingered on the folded fabric that was being shoved mercilessly to fit a case that would lead it to where she'd never see it again—they bought that when they went on a trip outside the country. It was a blue blanket made of the most expensive cotton in the world. It had cost them a fortune to buy it, but she never denied him when it came to the things he wanted, so despite the price, she agreed for him to purchase the item. Evan had a job but it wasn't enough to provide for their family, so the majority of the expenses were shouldered by her and the money her father left for them.

As his things continued to pile up inside the many containers that littered their room, she couldn't help but wonder—where had things gone wrong? When had he stopped loving her? Had he loved her at all? At what point had he decided to finally end everything?

Was the answer hidden in the previous years? The years she spent with joy, love, and care for the man that meant everything to her? Had she lacked in those years?

Or was the catalyst perhaps found in the previous months? The months he spent traveling with his boss to various locations. Maybe at some point, he got used to not having her around and lost all passion for her or stumbled on a gem that shone brighter than she had.

"I want a divorce Mina, you have to accept that what we had was great, but it's over."

She couldn't help but fall to her knees. Her tears blurred every inch of their bedroom but never his face. Her heart ached as if a claw had dug its way through her chest, squeezing her heart mercilessly.

"Get up. You can't force me to stay with you. We are done, Mina."

And like the obedient wife that she had always been, she listened to his command and got to her feet.

"Stop crying! When will you realize that no matter how much you cry, I will never change my mind?"

She wanted to stop, but her tears had a life of their own. Because from the day he asked for a divorce, her tears were no longer under her head's control. They seemed to have married her heart, robbing her of the will to command them.

With barely functioning eyes she watched as he took the photo album she kept beside their bed. He then proceeded to take out every picture of them and stuffed it inside a plastic bag.

"W-What are you going to do with those? Wouldn't your mistress hate it if you kept them?"

He turned to look at her, lips inching upwards as he murmured, "You're right, she would hate seeing them. That's why I have decided to burn anything that ties me to you."

"No!" She screamed and sprinted towards him. She tried to grab the plastic bag from his hand but he shoved her to the floor. She fell knee first and the impact forced intolerable pain to her waist, up her spine, coursing like electricity to her nape that mocked its way through her head. Yet Mina managed to instantly stand upright. It's not that the pain she felt could easily be endured, no. It was because the physical pain couldn't outweigh the sorrow of the thing that was barely beating inside her chest.

Without so much as a breath she ran towards him again and grabbed the plastic bag, she was able to pry it from his hands and its contents fell on the floor, their memories falling along with them.

She motioned to stoop down, intent on grabbing the photos before he could, but he shoved her again—swatting her away from them. Everything swirled after that, and it took her a moment to realize what happened. She was thrown on the side of the bed and hit her head on one of the bed posts. When she felt something drip from her forehead, she looked up at him—sight blurred with red as the wound she got bled.

He squatted in front of her and as her tears mixed with blood—eyes almost blind—she reached out to touch his face. But he slapped her hand away before she could even touch him.

"Enough!" He sneered as he rose from the floor. He bent down and picked up the pictures scattered on the floor, thrusting them violently inside the plastic bag again.

Mina, already weak and barely able to see through the tears and blood that covered her lashes crawled towards him. She managed to grab a hold of his jeans before he could walk towards the other side of the room where the bathroom door lay.

"Do... Don't do it!" She screamed when she saw him take out a lighter from his pocket. But her pleas were not heard. Her husband instead, shrugged his legs to free himself from her octopus-like grip. When Mina held on to it tighter, he bent down, and using his free hand, grabbed the wrist of her arm that was holding on to his jeans, twisted it until she screamed in agony, and finally let go.

She could only watch as he made his way towards the bathroom, opened the exhaust fan and windows, poured their pictures on the bathtub, and torched it with his lighter.

Mina shrieked at the sight. And as the smoke from burnt plastic consumed the inside of their bedroom, she saw their years and memories together, dangle before her eyes like a painful apparition—it too bursting into flame.

"You're as pathetic as ever." Her husband spat as he walked out of the bathroom, picked up his suitcase, and made his way toward the bedroom door. Mina instantly woke from her trance when she heard the familiar creak of the door's hinges. She knew he was about to leave the bedroom so she crawled onto the floor to go after him. But before she could cover the distance between her and the swinging door, she saw a single photo under their bed; the only one that escaped his merciless tirade to erase their memory. Desperate to retain a piece of him in her life, she reached under the bed, grabbed the picture, and held it towards her chest. She cradled the thing like a newborn child, fearing that if she let go, it would end her life.

As tears and blood continued to flow from her face down to her neck, she held the photo up and gazed at it.

Amidst the pain and heartache, she smiled. The photo was one that she can never part with. It was the image of her and her husband carrying their newborn child. Perhaps, there was still someone perched on her shoulders and all was not truly lost.

However, reality kicked her in the head when the familiar tapping of footsteps reached her ear. Turning to look at the door, she saw Even walking further away. That's when she found the strength and courage to rise to her feet. She ran outside the room and almost stumbled when her bare feet stepped on a protruding nail from the floor of the hallway. But despite the pain she continued to run forward, ignoring the trail of blood left by her injured foot.

When she saw his silhouette reach the bottom of the staircase she called out his name. But the man she spent thirty years with refused to stop or even throw her a glance. Fearing that she'd never reach him in time she ran like a killer was after her. But when she reached the first flight of stairs that led below, the blood on her foot caused her to lose balance. She stumbled and rolled down twenty-eight flights of steps. She screamed when the sensation of being gutted by a knife covered in salt coursed from her shoulders down to her fingers, racking her body with a pain she never knew existed. Soon, blood slowly oozed out of her upper back from a wound that must have been caused by one of the balusters that broke during her fall.

With her already bleeding head and the additional injury she got from her fall, nausea crept in threatening to claim her consciousness, but she managed to look up, and there, by the kitchen door, her husband stared at her with blank eyes. There was no love, or pain not even pity in them. He just gazed emotionlessly at her as if she was a pebble on his shoe.

"Do I need to call an ambulance?"

The way he said those almost felt like he pointed a nail gun at her and purposely released a set of nails that hurriedly buried themselves into her chest. It was unbearable, far more gruesome than the wound on her forehead or the bleeding on her upper back. But she couldn't give up.

"You're going to run out of blood if you continue doing this."

He uttered those words to her with a stoic face and a very cold tone, she barely recognized him. But despite his indifference, she couldn't let go. So she braced her right hand on the floor to support her weight as she raised her left—which happened to be the one closest to her injured back—and reached out to him.

She kept her hand suspended in the air, ignoring the pain that wreaked havoc on every muscle and nerve in her body, hoping that he'd reach out too. She'd accept anything, even if it's only pity. But even that, he denied. He answered her desperate stance with a chuckle. He then shook his head, turned away, and entered the kitchen. She knew he was about to leave by the back door so with every bit of strength she had left, she rose to her feet. Instantly, a scream escaped her mouth when her weight dropped to her feet. Only then had she realized, it wasn't only her upper back that was injured, her left ankle was broken too.

And when she struggled a step forward, her entire body almost collapsed from the coursing of something worst than the pain of electrocution. She nearly fell to her knees had she not managed to grab the newel of the stair beside her. She huffed and tried to catch her breath, but when she noticed her husband move towards the backdoor, something inside her sparked a strength that would never be explained. Maybe it was caused by her will to keep him beside her. Or perhaps, it was her already dwindling heart igniting a fire within her for one last swing at love.

But no matter where it came from, she managed to steady her legs and sprint forward. Feet wet with blood, face smeared in red and salty fluids she called out his name. Over and over she yelled, "Evan! Please, Evan!"

That was enough to stop her husband in his tracks. Slowly, he turned to face her. And at that moment her borrowed strength dwindled and she fell to her knees.

From the floor, she looked up at him and pleaded. "Please, give us another chance. Whatever shortcomings I had, I will make up for them. Whatever I did wrong I will atone for it. But please, don't leave me."

She gave her heart and soul to those words, that if heard by another—they would know how sincere it was. They would have felt her desperation and pain from every syllable. If they had seen her face, they'd further understand, because even the salty fluids that fell down her cheek challenged the rivulets of a normal tear. She offered every bit of her heart, mind, and soul in those sentences.

But fate mocked her when he answered, "Mina, stop it. Please let me go."

"No." She yelled. She felt the invisible blades that came out of his eyes when he stared menacingly at her. However, even with the predatory way he looked at her, it wasn't enough to convince her to give up. She'd rather die than watch him leave the house for good.

When he ran a hand over his hair, she couldn't help but marvel at how gorgeous he still looked in her eyes. Amidst the pain, the blood, the tears, and the heartache, she still loves the man with all her heart.

"Mina, please."

Slowly, he walked toward her, but when she reached out her hand for him to take, he denied her. He instead looked down at her and murmured, "Have it your way then. I will leave this place, Mina. And you will never lay eyes on me again."

"If you leave, I'll kill Carry! I swear to God, I will kill her!"

She watched as he clenched his jaw and could only cry some more when he retorted, "Go ahead. I will have a new daughter anyway. Rot with that brat of yours!"

"She's yours too! Don't you even care?"

"No! I don't!" He answered as he turned his back on her and walked out the door.

Mina knew she no longer had the strength to move, but she'd rather break every bone in her body than watch him go. But when she tried to stand, her legs failed her. Desperate, she resorted to using one arm to pull herself forward. As she dragged her entire weight across the floor with only one good arm, she felt her breath dwindle. She barely had the strength to take in air when she finally reached the backdoor—and like a worm—she slithered out.

"Evan!"

She had her head bent down and lips almost kissing the ground when she called out to him. Then she froze when there came an echo of her voice. It mimicked how she said his name. Slowly she tilted her head up; body still plastered on the ground.

She almost lost her mind when she saw her husband in the arms of another. A woman whom she never forgot the face of. Her image was imprinted on her memory even if it had been years since she last saw her. How could she forget her face, when it was she who planned her perfect wedding?

"Cynthia," She murmured as the blood from the wound on her forehead continued to trickle down to her cheek.

"Why?" She questioned as the pain in her upper back slowly paralyzed her left hand.

No one answered her.

The pang from the injury on her broken ankle, and wound on the pad of her feet increased as she murmured, "How could you?"

Silence.

All that answered her was silence. And as the seconds ticked by she felt her consciousness slowly drift away. But she refused to black out, so she turned the pain consuming her body at that moment into power. She forced herself to stand. Then the pain, which she knew would come, jolted her to awareness.

She screamed when she was finally on her feet because it felt like a thousand needles stung even the emotionless tips of her hair. But she dared not give up, even when her legs begged for her to drop down and give them reprieve. She stood tall and undeterred in front of her husband and his mistress as she yelled, "You monsters!"

"The only monster here is you, Mina. And you know why, right?" The woman beside her husband chided.

The way Cynthia said those were meant to taunt her, she knew that. But despite it all, Mina had no intention to engage in a battle with her rival. Her priority was her husband. So she ignored Cynthia and gazed at Evan. With her blood-smeared face, breaths taken in short gasps, she said to him, "P-Please come back. Let's forget this ever happened. I-I won't even mention it to anyone. J-Just return with me inside the house."

"Haven't your desperation shown the truth? He loves me as much as I love him!" Cynthia yelled from beside Evan. But Mina barely glanced at the woman, she kept her eyes on her husband-the love of her life, her everything.

"Cynthia, get out of here."

When Mina heard him say those it felt as though every inch of her body came alive—the pain, all of it vanished as if they were never there, to begin with. And when he knelt beside her and scooped her up in his arms, she felt her world come alive.

She smiled as she watched the other woman stomp her way toward the border fence. She wrapped her arms around Evan's neck when he started to walk towards the gazebo—with her, cradled in his arms like a princess. Just as he always did before.

When he laid her on the pink couch where they often sat together, reading books and planning vacations she looked up at him and smiled.

Her heart further swelled when from his pocket he took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood on her face. She felt the warmth that she taught she'd lost forever course through her body. When his palm cupped the side of her cheek and he knelt in front of her, just like he did when he asked her to marry her, she wailed. But those tears were not caused by the pain, it was happiness—they were tears of joy.

"I love you, Evan. I can't survive without you," she said to him.

He frowned and as impossible as it was based on how he had treated her in the previous minutes, a tear escaped his eyes.

"No hon, do...don't cry. It's over. I won't ever speak of this to..."

But she felt her world fall apart once. more, when he cut her off and said, "Let go, Mina. It had been years and I want to free myself from you. I love Cy..."

"No! Don't you dare say it! Don't you dare!" She yelled at him as once more her physical pain made itself known. Her body jerked uncontrollably which almost caused her to fall off the couch.

"I'm sorry," she heard Evan whisper as he got to his feet.

And as though her pain itself aided her on the task, she grabbed his arm and slid down from the couch. She knelt and hugged his already blood-drenched jeans and once more begged for him to reconsider. But his previous caring action seemed to have vanished when he grabbed her wrist and violently pried her hands off of his pants and shoved her away.

"This is why I have to be cold." Those were the only words he left her with as he made his way out of the gazebo.

Mina instantly got to her feet. Unfortunately, she had exhausted her body's will. Her legs gave out and she fell to the floor.

With her, sprawled on the wooden floorboards of the gazebo that her husband himself built, she screamed his name. But he continued to move forward, taking steps towards the woman who waited on the other side of the fence. Mina crawled her way out, and with a thud, she fell to the ground. There was only a two-inch distance between the floorboards to the ground but her already battered body perceived the fall as something keen to falling from a higher place. She screamed and squirmed in pain, then yelled for her husband to aid her, but Evan continued to move further away.

"I will love you till the day I die."

Her words halted her husband mid-stride. He turned to look at her, and even with the wide gap between them, she heard him when he said, "You will forget me in time."

Mina lost consciousness after that. She woke when she felt something wet hit her arms. And when the pitter-patter of rain fully awakened her senses, she crawled her way toward their house. As she slithered on the then mud-turned ground, she couldn't help but chuckle. Years ago, she slowly walked on the same ground—but with her feet. She slowly traveled the length of the house to the open dirt—but with a white and beautiful dress, smiling happily.

Who could have warned her that thirty years later she would slowly trek that distance once more, but no longer in her most beautiful but worst? Who could have told her that she would no longer be on her feet but crawling instead?

When she finally reached the foyer she managed to gather herself, despite the pain and blood loss that consumed her. Like a corpse, she sat motionless—crying and enduring

But she was only given a minute of reprieve before she once more had to grimace. Her physical pain screamed at her again, begging her to crawl further inside and call for help. But she couldn't bring herself to give that need any value. She was already drowning in a pain that was far greater and untreatable. What's the point? In a desperate attempt to ease her heart, her eyes lingered far and wide hoping that Evan changed his mind and had returned, but her gaze caught sight of the tree that served as a canopy for the priest and them when they made their vows instead. She couldn't help but question, where had she lacked? Her ebony hair never saw daylight again when she heard Evan say that he liked chocolate-colored hair because it matched his own.

The strands of her hair never had a day of respite to showcase how straight they were when Evan said that he liked curly hair.

The fair and luminous color of her skin remained hidden from everyone since Evan said he liked tanned women.

Where had she lacked? What hadn't she done?

She must have sat there for hours before she finally gave in to her body's request. She crawled further inside her house, wishing she'd never wake again. But she did, and it was her daughter's face that loomed over her when her eyes fluttered open.

She loves Carry, but it wasn't her that she wanted to see. So she refused to speak to her and even shoved her away when she said that Mina was lucky because she got there in time.

As the months went by, she roamed the once hope and love-filled house like a ghost. She walked the hallways reminiscing on the days she and Evan happily laid the foundations of the house with the aid of other workers.

She would often gaze at the front lawn and stare at the flower beds that she and Evan cultivated once a week. She has let go of them, and the once majestic lawn had turned into comfort and shelter for wild shrubs, grass, and small insects.

She walked, ate, and she talked. She was awake but her world was half asleep. There were only empty spaces and hopelessness. She was no longer who she was because her eyes no longer shone. They were as dead as the flowers she and he nurtured to life. She even went as far as destroying the picket fences that they both erected. Her heart no longer felt love, even for the daughter who constantly stood by her side. Even when her relationship with her started to fall apart, Mina remained in the dark.

But when Carry proclaimed that she would take revenge and kill her own father, that's when Mina tried to forget.

But the months went by slowly and Evan still claimed her dreams. His memories still preyed upon her mind. So one day, she bought a wreath and hung it on her doorstep. She then went to the back lawn, walked towards the lone tree, and tied a rope around one of its branches.

With emotionless eyes, she laid a chair below. She then strolled back inside the house and traveled up to the attic. There she rummaged through the boxes that had been sealed for years. When she found what she was looking for—the dress she wore on her wedding day—she put it on and headed back downstairs then stood behind the backdoor. With a smile on her face, she turned the knob and slowly made short strides toward the tree.

As the pad of her bare feet met the ground, she didn't see dirt but a red carpet instead. When her eyes lingered further, it wasn't a rope that dangled in the air she saw, it was the face of the man she loves. He was smiling, donned a black suit, surrounded by flowers.

When a flock of birds claimed the atmosphere, it wasn't their chirp that dominated her senses. All she heard was the slow clapping of people and their neverending congratulations.

And as she made her way towards the chair, mounted it, and tied a noose around her neck, she chuckled. If anyone had seen her at that time, they would have wondered, what was so amusing. The answer was simple. She experienced pain in mind, body, heart, and soul under his hands, but she knew deep down that even if he made her fall, she still loved him through it all.

Crack!