Update on: 16 December 2015

“Have you finished eating your food?”

Mom was busy pacing back and forth in the kitchen, holding trays of foods and unwashed dishes. Her hair was perm and she was wearing an apron, over her floured khaki sweater and beige skirt.

My eyes watch her all over as she continuously threw some questions at me. She threw questions over questions even though I didn’t answer her, not even once.

It’s quite annoying but at the same time it somehow touché me how caring she is. People say, that’s how motherly love is. They would never get tired of you but it is you who got tired of them. No matter what kind of hardship you gave them, they still love you the same but if you were given hardship from them, you got mad and talk bad about her.

How human.

“Do you like the curry?” she asked again and my eyes got teary.

I don’t know why I suddenly feel tearful. Is it because I just thought of her or because I was being an emotional wrecked.

Mom suddenly halted in her spot when she saw me sniffling through my food and she place down whatever is on her hands and run to me like I was more important than her waiting customers outside. She hugged me and she soothed me.

“It’s okay,” mom patted my back. I cried. “He’ll realize what he did wrong soon and maybe . . . just maybe . . . you guys were not meant to be. Maybe this if for the best, but whatever it is, I will always on your side.”

I cried harder. Maybe I should not have cried harder because after that it seem like the world suddenly became so quiet. Every customer who had been waiting outside suddenly had turned silent because of me. Like they were curious what is happening behind the curtain, the only thing that is covering me from being seen by them.

But instead of getting embarrassed by me and scolded me, mom only continue to soothe me with nice words.

Dad emerged through the curtain a minute later when I cried less hard, but still harder enough for people to listen. Without words and expressions, he come to me and embraced me, together with mom.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Then you’re still my little girl.”

I’m bad with this touché thingy so I cried even harder because I’m just a er when it comes to love. When I feel bad or simply sad, I don’t like it if people come to me and asked me whether I am okay or not. I am bad at keeping strong. I would start to cry like I never get cared enough by people, like I actually needed shoulders to cry on than keeping it to myself. I hate it.

Mom and dad stay until I actually stop crying. Dad then hurriedly went outside to serve the customers. Mom stayed for another few minutes, soothing me until I felt less sad before she continued with what she supposed to do half an hour ago.

My family runs a noodles restaurant. We’re not that well off so our restaurant is kind of small and old looking. It had been 20 years since my family opened it up and it was well received by the neighbours and actually managed to keep a few regular customers.

It is going to be Christmas in a few days so I thought I was going to visit them this year with my boyfriend, Henry but that’s when the problem occur. We, as in, Henry and I, had been planning on visiting my parent during Christmas ever since months ago but turned out Henry forgot about it and actually had promised to his friend that he’s going bring me over and celebrate Christmas together.

I was furious.

So we kind of fight because, as he said, he cannot break his promise just like that, it was some kind of man’s pride.

But it didn’t stop there. We fight for days and he never even contacted me anymore after the day we fight. Then, 1 day, I saw him, hanging out with his friends, all happy and cheerful. It broke my heart. It still does today.

Maybe he did change. I was just too blind by love to even saw his changing attitude. My friends had told me numerous times how Henry doesn’t seem to be like how he used to but I only thought that was because of me. How wrong I am.

I do notice a few changes within Henry. After he won the competition he started to think he was better than everyone else. Sometimes he would constantly let me down with his use of words too and he didn’t even apologize after that and I only wave it off every time. Then there’s also times when Henry didn’t even contact me for the whole day it was only me who had been hanging onto this relationship all along and contact him first.

So after I had done a few thinking, I take matters into my own hand and went to my parent without Henry knowing. Since we didn’t even in talking terms anymore, I don’t think he would even notice my missing. Maybe he would not even notice ever.

Thinking about that makes me wrecked again and I just wanted to cry again but I don’t want to disturb mom and dad anymore. So I finish my meal quickly, wash the dishes and went to my bedroom.

Once I step foot into my bedroom, I was mesmerized. Although it’s been years, it still looked and feels the same. Maybe it just felt a little smaller than before. When I remember the days I spend my time in this room, my heart squeezed and I start to feel sad again. I hate this emotional roller coaster. The fact that I am PMS-ing is also not helping.

By the time I went inside my bedroom, closed the door and sit on my comfy bed, my eyes were already teary. The 1 hour 30 minutes later was filled my wail and tears. I don’t even regret in spending the time just mopping and sulking around. By the time the 1 hour and 3 minutes was over, I feel even better than before. My tears do not even coming out anymore and my face was left with trails of dry tears on my cheeks.

I feel so dirty . . . and less sad.

I look at my bed. The bed sheet was still the same bed sheet that I last saw before I left this room. And it is rare and weird because mom doesn’t like it when I used the same bed sheet for months. But this bed sheet was clean, not even dusty. Maybe dad was telling the truth when he told me he washed my bed sheet every week, hopi