A year had passed since the tragedy that shattered the lives of Tristeza and Isabella. Their lives were never the same again. After losing their mother in a horrific way, their father, Marcelo, took his two daughters away from their devastated village. With secret savings and the profits from the harvest they managed to sell on the same day of the attack, they tried to start a new life in a small town on the outskirts. However, dark memories continued to haunt them like shadows that would never leave.
At first, life in the city went relatively well. Although it was simple, they had a safe place to stay and enough food to eat. Marcelo worked hard, and even though he didn't say much, he still took care of his two daughters. But as time went on, something started to change. The strong and loving Marcelo began to show signs of exhaustion and despair. He often came home late, reeking of alcohol, and would sometimes cry alone in a corner of the house.
One night, Tristeza sat on her hard mattress, staring at the ceiling of their small room. The room was cramped, with only two mattresses and a small wooden table. Isabella was asleep on the mattress next to hers, her thin body shivering despite the warm night air. Tristeza knew Isabella was exhausted; every day her sister worked at a local eatery to earn a little money because their father no longer paid them any attention.
"Why is Dad like this?" Tristeza whispered to herself, her eyes filled with sadness. Each night, Marcelo's sobs could be heard from the front room, calling for Elisa, his deceased wife. Tristeza was too young to fully understand the sorrow her father was experiencing, but she could feel how broken his heart was since that day.
The front door creaked open. Marcelo stumbled inside, swaying, and the smell of alcohol filled the room. Tristeza stiffened, trying not to move, hoping her father wouldn't notice she was still awake. She heard Marcelo speaking softly, his voice hoarse from drinking.
"Elisa… forgive me…" he murmured, his voice soft and broken. "I couldn't protect you. It's all my fault…" Marcelo lamented quietly, his voice becoming increasingly unintelligible between muffled sobs. Tristeza bit her lip, holding back the tears that were about to fall.
On the other mattress, Isabella stirred restlessly, perhaps hearing their father's weeping. Tristeza knew her sister was also awake, listening to everything with her own wounded heart. But there was nothing they could do. Marcelo was no longer the father they knew. Guilt and despair had transformed him into someone else—a broken man trapped in his own pain.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the front room. Tristeza heard her father open the door again, and this time, a woman's voice followed. She laughed, mingling with Marcelo's drunken murmurs. Tristeza covered her ears, not wanting to hear the disgusting sounds that always frightened her. Their father now brought strange women home almost every night. They came and went, having their way with Marcelo in the living room, completely oblivious to the fact that his two daughters were in the same house.
Morning came, but the atmosphere remained unchanged. Marcelo lay sleeping in a corner of the room, while the woman he brought home the night before had already left without a trace. Tristeza woke up early, staring at her father who lay there with a wrinkled face and heavy breaths. In her eyes, Marcelo was no longer the protective figure she once admired. He was merely a shadow of the man he used to be, and that broke Tristeza's heart.
"Tris?" a soft voice called out from behind her. Isabella stood in the doorway of their room, her eyes red from lack of sleep. "Are you up early again?"
Tristeza turned and gave her sister a faint smile. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep well," she replied honestly. "Dad… he's drunk again."
Isabella took a deep breath and walked closer. She sat on the floor next to her sister, looking at Marcelo who was still slumbering in the corner. "I know. He's not going to change… maybe he can't."
"Why is Dad like this, Sis?" Tristeza asked, her voice sounding innocent yet full of pain. "He wasn't like this before. He always loved us."
Isabella bit her lip, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. "It's because of Mom... since Mom left, Dad doesn't know how to go on with his life. He's too sad. Maybe he blames himself."
"But why does he have to blame us?" Tristeza sighed softly. "I miss the Dad I used to know, Sis. I miss our home."
Isabella fell silent, bowing her head. "I do too, Tris," she finally murmured. "But we have to be strong. I'll take care of you."
Days passed without any significant changes. Marcelo grew increasingly distant from his two daughters. He rarely came home on time, and whenever he did, it was always in a drunken state. The money they once had slowly dwindled, as Marcelo no longer worked seriously. Meanwhile, Isabella grew increasingly tired from having to work hard at the local eatery to provide for them both.
Tristeza frequently sat by the small window in their room, staring outside with a vacant expression. She saw other kids playing, laughing, and joking around, while she was trapped in a house filled with sorrow. Every time Isabella returned from work, her sister looked even paler, and her eyes grew more tired. Tristeza knew Isabella was exhausted, but her sister never complained.
One night, Tristeza awoke to the sound of quiet sobbing. She turned and saw Isabella sitting in the corner of the room, her body shaking from the tears she held back.
"Are you okay, Sis?" Tristeza whispered, her little voice full of concern. "Please don't cry."
Isabella quickly wiped her face, trying to erase her tears. "I… I'm just tired, Tris," she replied softly, trying to smile even though her eyes were still red. "I'm okay."
Tristeza didn't believe her. She got up from her bed and walked over to Isabella. "You don't have to pretend to be strong, Sis. If you're sad, I'm here for you."
Isabella paused for a moment, then embraced her sister tightly. "I'm just… I'm scared, Tris. I'm scared we won't ever be happy again. Dad doesn't care about us anymore, and I... I don't know what to do," she cried, tears streaming down her face again.
Tristeza held her sister even tighter, feeling how fragile Isabella was even though her sister had always tried to appear strong. "We still have each other, Sis. As long as we're together, we can get through this."
Isabella nodded, though her tears still flowed. "You're right, Tris. We have to stay strong. For Mom… and for ourselves."
That night, they fell asleep holding each other, trying to find comfort in the midst of a painful life. The world outside might not care about them, but they still had each other—and that was the only hope they had.
---
Days turned into weeks, and their lives remained difficult. Marcelo sunk deeper into his drinking habits, and Tristeza rarely saw her father sober anymore. Meanwhile, Isabella had to work harder than ever at the local eatery to make ends meet. Every day, she came home exhausted, with hands red and blistered from the hard work she had to do.
One afternoon, when Isabella came home earlier than usual, Tristeza could see how truly tired her sister was. Isabella's face was pale, and her body trembled as she walked into the house.
"Are you okay, Sis?" Tristeza asked anxiously, moving toward Isabella, who immediately collapsed onto the floor in exhaustion.
Isabella gave a weak smile, but her face was full of fatigue. "I just need to rest, Tris. Don't worry," she said, even though it was clear her sister was not alright.
Tristeza felt her heart ache at the sight of Isabella's condition. "You don't have to keep working so hard, Sis. We can find another way," Tristeza said softly.
Isabella shook her head slightly. "No, Tris. If I don't work, we won't be able to eat. Dad isn't reliable anymore."
Tristeza fell silent, unsure of what to say. They were trapped in a cycle of hardship that seemed never-ending.