ARRA POV
It was just another ordinary Sunday morning. I stood in front of the mirror, brushing my hair, adjusting my blouse—going through the motions. But inside, everything felt unusually heavy.
I could still hear his voice—the man from three days ago who tried to harass me. The memory clung to me like a bad dream that wouldn't fade. I shook it off and continued getting ready. Today, I was heading to church to rehearse for the service. I played piano for the choir, something I used to love with my whole heart. But lately… it didn’t feel the same. The spark was gone.
Maybe it was because of work. I’d recently started a job, and my boss was a notorious terror. I was trying to make a good impression, and it was draining me. I’d begun wondering if that was why I no longer found joy in performing. Music had always been my escape, but now it felt like an obligation.
“Arra!” Mom’s voice echoed from downstairs. I heard her, but I didn’t answer. I didn’t have the energy. I sat quietly on my bed, hoping she would come to me.
And she did.
Mom knocked once and opened my door without waiting. She walked in, helped me to my feet, and guided me toward the stairs.
But the moment my feet touched the living room floor, a strange pressure gripped my chest. My heart tightened like something was trying to warn me. I brushed it off, thinking it was just stress. That is—until I saw him.
I hadn’t seen that face since I was eight.
I froze.
"Arra, honey," Mom said, her voice trembling with excitement. "I have a surprise for you, and I think you’ll love it."
I looked away. “Mom, we’re going to be late. I still have to practice before the service.”
But the air had already changed. There was a tension in the room that hadn’t been there before.
Then came a voice I hadn’t heard in years.
“Hello, baby. I’ve missed you.”
I turned slowly. It was him.
My father.
He looked older, but his voice hadn’t changed. Tears streamed down his face as he walked toward me and wrapped his arms around me. I stood stiffly as he sobbed against my shoulder.
“Baby, I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day…”
I pushed him away, my voice cracking. “Then why did you leave?”
His face crumpled.
“Yes, I left,” he whispered. “But it didn’t take me long to come back. I came back for you.”
“Stop,” I snapped, stepping back. “Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying,” he insisted. “I swear to God—”
“Yes, you are!” I screamed. “You’re lying now, just like you lied back then! Do you remember what you taught me? You taught me how to count. And I counted every single day since you left.”
I paused, trembling, the words boiling out of me. “You were gone for eight years, three months, two weeks, four days, and ten hours. Tell me I’m wrong!”
The room fell silent. I could feel Mom behind me, but I didn’t give her the chance to make excuses for him.
Dad stepped forward again. “Please, baby. Let me explain—”
“What?” I shouted. “That you left for my future? What future? I didn’t want that! I just wanted a dad like other kids had. I didn’t want to grow up pretending you never existed!”
Without warning, Mom stepped between us and slapped me across the face.
“You don’t talk to your father that way!” she shouted. “He’s still your father!”
I held my cheek, stunned. “No. I don’t have a father. I buried him in my heart years ago.”
“I said stop!”
“No! I won’t!”
I turned and stormed out, bumping into the hallway cabinet on my way to the door. I didn’t care. I needed to leave. I walked the three blocks to the church, tears silently streaming down my face.
When I arrived, Danica was already waiting for me at the entrance like she said she would. She rushed to my side as soon as she saw me.
“Arra, where have you been? Everyone’s waiting for you inside. You still need to practice the—” She paused, noticing the tears. Her tone softened. “Hey… come on.”
She guided me inside, her hand gently on my back. I walked over to the piano at the corner of the altar and sat down. My fingers touched the keys—cold, unwelcoming. But I played anyway.
One song. Then another. Then another.
Eventually, people started arriving for the Sunday Mass. It was almost time.
Even after the fight, I knew my parents would still come. They were religious, after all. They’d never miss a service.
After the Mass ended, the church began to empty. I stayed behind to pack my things when Pastor Norman approached me. He tapped my shoulder softly.
“Arra, I heard you’re thinking of quitting the choir.”
I looked up and gave him a small smile. “I just want to try something new.”
He sighed. “I won’t stop you, child. But no one plays like you do. You’re gifted.”
“Thank you, Pastor. For everything.”
“You’re always welcome here, Arra. No matter what.”
As we walked out together—me, Danica, and Pastor Norman—we ran into my parents standing outside the church.
Mom stepped forward, her eyes pleading. “Pastor, Danica… can we have a moment with Arra?”
They both nodded and stepped away.
Mom turned to me. “Honey, please… talk to your father. Just once. Listen to him.”
I hesitated, but finally nodded.
Dad took a slow step toward me. He reached for my arm, his grip gentle. “I’m glad you gave me this chance,” he said quietly.
“What do you want to say?” I asked, keeping my tone flat. “Just say it quickly. I’m not feeling well.”
“I understand that you’re angry,” he said. “And you have every right. Your mom told me you missed me, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe I’m not welcome in your life anymore.”
A tear slipped from my eye.
“What are you trying to say?” I asked, my voice trembling.
He took a deep breath. “I’m leaving again. I just wanted to say goodbye. Take care of yourself.”
As he turned to walk away, something inside me cracked.
“Can you not leave this time?” I called out. “If you’re really sorry, then prove it. Don’t walk away again. I’ve missed you… Dad.”
He stopped. Slowly, he turned around—and then ran to me. He wrapped me in his arms, holding me tighter than ever.
“Oh my baby girl,” he sobbed. “I’m not going anywhere. Not anymore.”
“Promise?” I whispered. “No more leaving?”
He smiled through his tears. “I promise. And Arra… no matter how big you get, you’ll always be my baby girl.”
I laughed through my tears. “I’m not a baby anymore.”
He grinned. “You’ll always be mine.”
We walked back together to where Mom was waiting. Danica waved goodbye, heading off to her part-time job at the diner a few blocks away.
And for the first time in eight years, I felt like maybe… just maybe… I wasn’t missing a part of myself anymore.