A year to live and die

See, this is why?

"Sweetheart, breakfast is ready!" My mother said to my father. 

I was already on the table, giddily waiting for my pancakes. What excites me more was our gathering. My parents were with me at the table. Eating breakfast together with them was like a dream for me. Since my father started his new job, he had been always busy, and it wasn't surprising that he lost track of time with his family. 

I wouldn't act on my age and unforeseen that my parents' relationship was slowly cracking down. My mother suspected that my father was having a relationship with his assistant. I got the idea of her doubting him. 

"Oh, honey! I was working all night!" He would yell at her every night whenever she asked for his reasons while I pretended to be asleep. He was always late from work indeed. 

Unfortunately, my family wasn't that perfect family. My father cheated on my mother. This made my mother pretend that she didn't know.  Hence, I helped her by pretending to be my age and ignore the obvious. 

My mother was setting the table with plates and glasses for the juice and the food. Father came downstairs, and as he joined us at the table, his phone suddenly rang. 

He declined the call. "How are you, my princess?" He asked me as if nothing had happened. 

 I resumed my act as I put on a half smile and told him about my dream. 

"I dreamt about us. We went out to McDonald's and we were singing in the car on our way there. The feeling of joy was present among us like we used to be."

 At least, it was a dream that I made up. I wanted him to know that I was hurting and he was the cause of it. My mother sat beside him and filled our glasses with orange juice. 

"Did you sleep well?" My mother smiled at my father. 

Ever heard of the myth that girls are the ones who fight to keep their relationship more than guys? Well, It's true! My mother would be a good example of it. 

Without making eye contact, he replied,
"Just fine."  

After a few seconds, his phone vibrated on the table, grabbing our attention. He cleared his throat before answering the call while going upstairs. 

As usual, I was the one who had witnessed my mother's heartbreak. Even though her smile was too bright for my sake, the devastation was all pasted on her face. 

When my father took some time to come back to the table, my mother made a rushing, rustling sound from the weariness of waiting for him. 

She stood up while she said, "Eat. I will be back soon." 

Now she went upstairs for no good. She was going to confront father. Then, he would lie to her as always. This has been the past year. On my sixth birthday, they were fighting after I blew my candles. After the school presentation, they fought once again. Now I was seven years old and more typical of this catastrophe. 

I sliced the pancakes on my plate and played with them as my other hand rested on my head. Wondering how many families in the world are going through the same shit I was going through.  What I was more curious about was about the ending of this.  Would it end with a divorce or worse than that? Would there even be something worse than divorce in a marriage? 

Having these wild thoughts every time I sat at this table. Feeling lonely waiting for them to be back and they failed me every day. 

I put down the fork and went upstairs to where the shouting and yelling happened which was behind the closed door. It was also known as my parents' room.