The Weight of Truth

Catty and Kuku Veronica sat silently in the car as it cruised toward the mall. The engine hummed softly beneath their conversationless tension.

Catty's phone buzzed—"Mom".

She stared at it for a second, then pressed Decline. Again, it rang. Again, she disconnected.

Kuku glanced over but said nothing, until...

"You know…" Kuku began, her voice soft and distant. "Armas was the loveliest son God ever gifted me. He respected me—loved me more than I even loved myself."

Catty blinked, unsure where this was going.

"There was a time when he was just fourteen. I smashed his PlayStation. Out of anger. He'd forgotten to bring in the laundry—again—and all he ever focused on was that blasted console. I broke it, though I did buy him a new one later."

She smiled sadly at the memory.

"He was furious, but he never showed it. He knew he was wrong. And despite that… he never disrespected me. He never stopped talking to me. His love for me never changed."

Catty's brows knitted. "You have a son? Armas?"

Kuku nodded slowly. "I had one. He was Nathan's father."

"Oh…" Catty's voice dropped. "I'm sorry. Nate told me a little, but... why are you telling me this?"

"Because no matter what your parents did, forgiveness is still yours to give. You can go back to them—"

"No," Catty cut in, voice trembling. "No, Kuku. My parents didn't just destroy a PlayStation. They never replaced it. Not just the item—but the love behind it."

Kuku frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They didn't destroy a toy. They destroyed everything I ever loved. And I don't think I'll ever forgive them for that. I love them. I respect them. But all they've ever given me in return is pain. That's why I didn't go to their house."

Kuku reached for her hand. "But they're still your parents. Every mother dreams of seeing her daughter—"

"They lost that right, Kuku," Catty whispered, eyes wet. "They lost it."

There was a silence. Then Kuku asked gently, "What's your story, Catherine?"

Catty took a breath so sharp it hurt. "I had two sets of parents. And a sister more precious than gold. My aunt and uncle—they owned Triumph Events and Catering. They were everything to me."

Her voice grew steadier, edged with both love and sorrow.

"My uncle enrolled me in a computer school. I was just a kid, but I learned code and algorithms before I even understood my own emotions. That's how I became a web developer. My sister—same age as me—was like a second mother. Wise, gentle, always nurturing. My uncle even bought a house for my father, gave him a share in the company."

She paused, eyes glassy.

"But my parents… they got greedy. Ungrateful. When I was ten, they shipped me off to Spain. Tore me away from my sister. From them. We stayed in touch for a while—calls, messages… but eventually, my sister stopped responding."

"I wanted to come home. But there were issues with my papers. My father said he'd fix it. Then, five years ago, they sent me documents to sign—Power of Attorney for the company. I didn't want to, but then my uncle called and asked me to. So I signed."

Catty's voice dropped to a whisper.

"I graduated last year. I was so excited to come back. To see them. Aunt was pregnant when I left. I wanted to meet my baby cousin. I missed my sister so much…"

Her voice broke.

"But then my parents told me—they're all dead. My aunt, uncle… my sister."

Kuku's breath hitched. "I'm so sorry, my child."

"I never got to say goodbye. I don't even know what they looked like when they died."

Kuku whispered, "I know the pain of losing a loved one. But still… I find no fault in your parents."

Catty turned slowly. Her voice trembled, but her words hit like thunder.

"They killed them, Kuku."

"What?" Kuku recoiled.

"You don't say such things lightly—"

"I know. But I signed over that company—five years ago. That's exactly when they died. Now my parents run everything that used to belong to my uncle. And legally, it's all under my name."

Her jaw clenched.

"They all died. At once. Even my Kuku."

"Your Kuku too?" Kuku Veronica asked, stunned.

Catty nodded. "Yes. She raised me too. And now she's gone."

"I'm sorry," Kuku said quietly. "That's a devastating loss."

"I just miss my sister," Catty sobbed. "Sometimes… I still feel like she's alive. Like she's somewhere. Like she'll just… walk in."

Kuku's own eyes shone. "I used to feel the same. About Armas. About Helvi. But now… my son is twenty-seven."

They both sat in silence, two women with cracked hearts, stitched together by loss, grief, and unspoken truths.