Page 32 of Echoes of Eternity

With that, Kaito released me, his eyes filledwith a cruel satisfaction. I watched as he got into his car and drove off, the sleek vehicle disappearing around the corner with a roar.

“Mae, are you alri?—”

“I’m fine. Thank you. You can go back inside. I’m alright. I’m just going to head home, okay?” My legs felt weak, and tears stung my eyes as I stumbled to my car, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I didn’t want Jake to see me rattled like this. He didn’t need to be involved in this mess.

The drive home was a blur of emotion. The nightmare, the confrontation with my ex, and the sense of helplessness all mixed together, creating a storm of anguish within me. I pulled into my driveway, barely registering the familiar surroundings.

Inside my house, I collapsed onto the couch, clutching the pendant I had kept from my parent’s house. The cool metal felt soothing against my skin, and I rubbed it absentmindedly, letting the tears flow. The pendant, a small, enigmatic piece of jewelry, seemed to hold an elusive connection to the past—a past that felt both distant and painfully relevant.

I cried, wondering if Kaito broke something inside of me, if that was why I never seemed to connect deeply with anyone since our breakup. My attempts at relationships, both past and present, felt superficial and unfulfilling. Kaito was the longest relationship I ever had, as tumultuous as it was. My parent’s voices float into my mind, speaking of not wanting me to bealone in this world.

Was I always destined to feel this strange disconnect, or was there something more profound that I was missing? The weight of obligation and duty, the pressure to honor family expectations, combined with the threat from my ex and the haunting memories from my nightmare, crashed down on me in my exhausted state. I felt trapped and alone, struggling to find a way forward.

Just when I thought I might regain my footing, an unexpected wave of despair washed over me like a typhoon, suffocating me. It felt like a thick fog enveloping my thoughts, making it hard to breathe as my heart hammered in my chest. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was standing on the precipice of something important, yet utterly beyond my reach because of all the uncontrollable circumstances of my life.

Why am I having these dreams now? What did they mean?

The thought of my parents’ disappointment tightened in my chest like a vise, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that no matter how hard I tried, there were parts of my identity they might never understand. My eyes burned, trying to hold myself together, wondering if what was wrong with me, and if I truly lost it. I was usually more in control of my emotions than this.

Eventually, the tears subsided, and I found myself staring at the pendant.

As the night dragged on, the quiet hum of my laptop felt like a mockery of my internal turmoil. I closed my eyes, willing the despair to pass, but it clung to me like ashadow. I felt adrift, caught between two worlds—one that expected me to follow a path laid out by others and another that whispered of possibilities I could barely grasp.

With a heavy sigh, I leaned back on my couch, letting the darkness seep in. It was in that moment of surrender that sleep finally took me, the weight of my worries folding into the quiet of the night.

14

The next day,I went back to my parents' house with a heavy heart and a bag of groceries. I hoped that my visit with the news of the consignment sale would ease their financial strain and lift my own spirits, but it quickly became clear that my efforts were not enough to change their critical outlook.

As soon as I walked through the door, my mother greeted me with a forced smile. “Mae, you’re here. We’ve been so worried. You didn’t come last week and didn’t call.”

I returned the smile, though it felt strained. “I’m doing alright, Ma. Just came to drop off some groceries and check in.”

The conversation took a familiar turn as my father, seated at the dining table, looked up with a stern expression. “You know, Mae-Mae, you’re working so hard, you look tired. Is that job doing this to you? Should you find another one? I’m worried about you.”

I tried to keep my voice steady. “I’m doing my best to balance, Pa. I got it, okay. I’m a full grown adult, I can handle things. I’m trying to make sure I’m taking care of you two.”

“You are a good daughter, Mae-Mae. We told you that you do not have to worry about us here. Just worry about yourself,” my dad said in a softer tone.

But my mother’s tone grew more insistent. “And what about finding a husband? You’re not getting any younger. It’s important to settle down and give us grandchildren. We don’t want to die without seeing our daughter happy with a family of her own.”

I knew it was cultural. I knew this is how things were communicated back in the motherland and she couldn’t understand where I was coming from because things were different there, priorities were different for women. My mother couldn’t possibly understand how each word felt like a jab, and I struggled to maintain my composure. “It’s not as simple as you think, Ma.”

My father’s gaze landed on my mother. “Let up, huh. Mae-Mae says she’s managing.”

But my mother didn’t take the hint, her mood probably affected by my own. “It’s hard, Mae, when I see all my neighbors and friends and their grandchildren. When they ask me about you, I do not know what to say. We just want you to be happy and secure, that's all we’re saying.”

The pressure of their expectations and guilt trips became too much. My frustration boiled over. “I’m trying my hardest! Every time I come here, it’s justmore guilt and disappointment. I can’t keep doing this!”

The words flew out of me before I could stop them, and the room fell silent. My parents looked at me with hurt and confusion, their disappointment evident. I quickly grabbed my things, feeling a wave of shame and frustration, and left their house in a hurry.

I heard a voice call from the street, one of the neighbors peering over the fence. “Hey, Mae! How are you doing? We haven’t seen you around lately!”

All I could do was send them a wave, my voice caught in my throat.

The drive home was filled with a mix of anger and sadness. I felt like I was constantly failing, despite my best intentions. When I arrived home, the weight of my parents' expectations and their constant guilt trips felt crushing.

I sank onto the couch, feeling utterly defeated. I pulled the pendant from around my neck, its cool metal strangely comforting against my skin. I ran my fingers over its intricate design, seeking some semblance of solace.

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