Seven years have passed. Tristeza and Isabella's lives continued in the harshness of the world, even though the sorrow from the past had not completely faded. Tristeza had grown into a healthy and fit girl, while her sister, Isabella, had become a beautiful, mature young woman. However, beneath Isabella's growing strength and beauty, their lives remained full of wounds. Isabella's fragile mental state seemed untouched by any small improvements in their lives.
Marcelo, their father, was increasingly helpless. His advancing age and bad drinking habits made him unreliable. He no longer worked and had become a burden to his daughters, who were struggling hard to survive.
Isabella knew she was the only one who could take care of them. Tristeza, although younger, had begun to show signs of independence. But Isabella didn't want her sister to bear the heavy burden she carried. Therefore, Isabella worked hard every day. From morning until afternoon, she worked as a waitress in a small eatery. But from the evening until night, Isabella hid a darker reality from Tristeza—she worked as a sex worker in the red-light district, all for her sister's sake.
Isabella often felt as if she were drowning in sadness, feeling there was no escape from this harsh life. However, the situation was made increasingly difficult by their father. Marcelo, who had once been a loving man, had turned into someone distant and shrouded in dark shadows. As Isabella matured into a woman, Marcelo began to see her not as his daughter but as a replacement for Elisa, his deceased wife.
That night, Marcelo sat in a corner of the house, drunk as usual. Isabella had just returned from the red-light district, exhausted and full of wounds in her heart. She was shivering, even though the night air felt warm. Slowly, she walked toward their room, hoping to rest for a moment before she had to go back to work the next day.
However, her father's voice stopped her steps.
"Isabella…" Marcelo whispered softly, his voice hoarse from alcohol. "Come here... sit with me."
Isabella trembled at the sound of his call. She knew what was going to happen. Every time her father was drunk, he always called her that way—like a man full of longing. Reluctantly, Isabella turned, looking at her father with eyes full of mixed sadness and hatred.
"Dad, I'm tired…" Isabella replied quietly, her voice barely audible.
But Marcelo didn't care. He looked at his daughter with dim, empty eyes. "I said... come closer."
Isabella had no choice. If she refused, Marcelo would threaten her. He would threaten to hurt Tristeza—her innocent sister who knew nothing of the darkness surrounding Isabella's life. With heavy steps, Isabella approached her father, sitting on the floor near his feet.
Marcelo reached out, roughly touching Isabella's cheek. "You look just like your mother… so beautiful…"
Isabella held her breath, trying to suppress the nausea that was spreading through her body. Her hands clenched at her sides, but she didn't dare to fight back. She had tried to resist before, but Marcelo's threats were always the same: if Isabella refused, he would turn to Tristeza. That was the most terrifying threat for Isabella.
That night, like many nights before, Isabella surrendered herself to the dark shadows that loomed in their home. After it was all over, Marcelo fell into his drunken sleep, while Isabella crawled back to her room with a heart full of emotional scars. She sat in the corner, hugging her knees tightly, trying to stifle her sobs so she wouldn't wake her sister.
Tristeza, who was sleeping soundly in her bed, never knew what her sister was going through. To Tristeza, Isabella was a strong figure who could always be relied upon, always protecting her from the harsh world outside. Tristeza had no idea that behind her sister's gentle smile lay a dark world that Isabella concealed from her.
The next morning, Isabella woke up early as usual. She prepared a simple breakfast for Tristeza, just as she always did. When her sister woke up, Isabella was already in their small kitchen, wearing a worn apron.
"Good morning, Sis!" Tristeza called cheerfully, though dark circles were visible under her eyes.
Isabella turned and gave her a weak smile. "Good morning, Tris. Come on, breakfast is ready."
Tristeza sat down on the rickety wooden chair, taking a piece of bread that Isabella had prepared. "Sis, don't you get tired of working all the time? I can help, you know? I can get a job too."
Isabella shook her head quickly. "No, Tris. You're still young; you should focus on studying and enjoying your youth. Let me handle everything."
Tristeza sighed. "But I don't like seeing you so tired every day. I want to help."
Isabella paused for a moment, her heart heavy at her sister's words. She knew Tristeza wanted to help, but Isabella couldn't let her sister get involved in such a harsh life. In a gentle voice, Isabella said, "It's okay, Tris. I'm strong. Just be yourself; that's enough for me."
They continued their breakfast in silence, while in the back room, Marcelo slept soundly. The scent of alcohol still lingered from his bed. Tristeza glanced toward their father's bedroom door, then back at her sister.
"Why doesn't Dad ever get up early anymore, Sis?" Tristeza asked curiously.
Isabella bit her lip, trying to suppress the bitter feelings rising in her chest. "He just needs rest, Tris. Maybe he'll wake up later."
Tristeza didn't ask further. She knew conversations about their father always brought the mood down.
---
After working at the eatery all morning to afternoon, Isabella prepared to head out again to the red-light district. Every time she left, she always felt a heaviness in her heart at leaving Tristeza alone at home. But Isabella knew she had no choice. The money she earned at the eatery was never enough to cover their needs. Working in the red-light district was the only way for them to survive.
Isabella always made sure that Tristeza was asleep before she left. She didn't want her sister to know the truth about her job. To Tristeza, Isabella was a hard worker who always came home late because of the diner job. Tristeza had no idea what really happened out there.
That night, as usual, Isabella waited until Tristeza was fast asleep. After ensuring her sister was dozing, she put on a different outfit—one she only wore when working in the red-light district. With careful steps, she left the house, heading to where she had to work for the money they needed.
Each time she walked along the street to the red-light district, Isabella felt a deep sense of shame wash over her. But she always strengthened herself with one thought: all of this was for Tristeza. All the suffering she endured, all the wounds she had to accept, she did it so Tristeza could live without knowing the darkness that truly enveloped their lives.
In the red-light district, Isabella was a different person. She smiled at the men approaching her, even though inside, she felt like crying. Each touch made her feel dirty, but she had no choice. All of this was for her sister, and that was the only reason that kept her going.
Night after night, Isabella lived in painful duality—on one hand, she was the loving sister who always protected her sibling. On the other hand, she was a woman trapped in a dark life to survive. The world she was living in was so far from what she had imagined when they were still living in the village with a complete family.
Yet despite everything, Isabella never gave up. She kept trying to be strong because in her heart, she knew that the only thing she had was Tristeza. Tristeza was the reason she lived, and as long as her sister was still there, Isabella would continue to endure, even if the world seemed determined to crush her.
---
It was a bright day. Tristeza was running around in the yard, laughing freely with her friends. They were playing hide and seek, a game that always made Tristeza feel liberated, even if only for a moment. The exhaustion of daily life faded away when she could hide behind trees or in dark corners that her friends couldn't reach. For a brief moment, the harsh world felt so far away.
"Tris! You're it!" one of her friends shouted.
Tristeza nodded with a smile on her face, then began counting. Meanwhile, her friends ran off to find hiding spots. After finishing her count, Tristeza started looking for them one by one. Her footsteps were soft, and occasionally she heard laughter from behind the bushes, but what caught her attention was a small alley near the edge of the village. The alley was dark and damp, rarely traveled by anyone. She thought maybe some of her friends were hiding there.
Without hesitation, Tristeza walked closer to the alley. But as soon as she reached the end of the alley, she stopped. From a distance, she heard strange sounds—like people arguing. She hid behind the wall, trying to see who was there. The voices became clearer, and she was shocked to see her sister, Isabella, having a heated argument with a woman she didn't recognize.
Isabella looked alone, while the woman she was facing wasn't by herself. There were two other women standing behind her, seemingly waiting for orders. The woman spoke in a high, contemptuous tone.
"Do you think you can take all our customers, huh?" the woman shouted angrily. "You're nobody here!"
Isabella stared at them with a determined look, though her face clearly showed fear. "I never meant to take anything from you. I just need money to live, just like you."
"What? Money to live?" the woman scoffed. "Don't act all innocent. Everyone knows you've been making a lot of money since joining this district. You should know your place."
Before Isabella could respond, one of them landed a hard punch to her face. Isabella fell to the ground, clutching her bruised cheek. Tristeza, watching from a distance, held her breath. She wanted to run to her sister, to help her, but her heart was filled with doubt. She knew Isabella wouldn't want her to interfere. Her sister was always protecting her from this dark side of life, and Tristeza was afraid that if she appeared now, Isabella might get angry with her or even hate her, just like their father had grown distant from them.
Isabella struggled to get up, but the woman kicked her again. Tristeza could see her sister's face starting to swell and bleed. But she remained silent, frozen in place. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the women left Isabella alone. Her sister lay on the ground, trembling but trying hard not to cry. Tristeza remained in her hiding place, just watching from a distance, her heart filled with guilt for not doing anything.
Night fell, and the house felt quieter than usual. Marcelo, their father, had drowned himself in alcohol as per his habit. Tristeza sat in the kitchen, preparing a warm towel and hot water. Despite not seeing her sister yet, she knew Isabella would come home soon, and probably in a terrible condition. Tristeza tried not to think about what she had seen in the alley earlier. She just wanted to help her sister, even if it meant preparing some hot water and a towel.
As midnight approached, the front door creaked open slowly. Isabella came home, her steps weak, her face bruised. Tristeza looked at her sister from the kitchen, her heart aching at the sight.
But before Isabella could say anything, Marcelo approached her. Their father appeared angry, even in his drunken state, his voice loud and out of control.
Isabella didn't reply. She lowered her head, trying to hold back the tears that were clearly visible in her eyes.
Marcelo wouldn't stop. He kept talking, accusing this and that, his voice getting louder and more aggressive. Tristeza could see her sister starting to cry, her body shaking, but she remained silent. Finally, when Marcelo staggered closer to Isabella and looked like he was about to hit her, Tristeza couldn't hold herself back any longer.
With a sudden burst of courage, Tristeza stepped forward and pushed her father hard. Marcelo, not expecting it, fell backward. His head hit the edge of the wooden table hard, and in an instant, his body lay sprawled on the floor, motionless.
Isabella let out a small scream, and Tristeza rushed toward their father. But as she touched his body, she knew—Marcelo was dead. Blood was slowly oozing from the spot on his head where he had struck it.
The next morning, the house was filled with neighbors who came to help. Their father was taken to the local cemetery, accompanied by the soft sobs of those who had gathered. Tristeza and Isabella stood beside the grave, silent. Isabella couldn't look at Tristeza, her eyes still full of sadness and guilt.
Yet amidst all that, there was a faint feeling of relief in Tristeza's heart. Their father, with all his faults, was gone now. There wouldn't be any more threats from him towards the two of them. But still, a wave of guilt haunted Tristeza—what she had done the night before had ended her father's life.
A few days after the funeral, Tristeza and Isabella were walking home after buying some groceries from the market. They didn't talk much, each of them busy with their own thoughts. Suddenly, from behind them, a woman appeared—the same woman Tristeza had seen in the dark alley that day. The woman walked quickly, unexpectedly brandishing a kitchen knife at Isabella's back.
Isabella staggered, her face instantly paling. Tristeza could only stare with wide eyes as the woman ran away, leaving her sister lying on the ground. Tristeza rushed closer, shaking her sister's body.
"Wake up, Sis! Isabella, wake up!" Tristeza cried in panic, tears starting to flow down her cheeks.
A man nearby immediately called for help. Isabella was quickly taken to the nearest doctor, but the injury was too severe. Blood continued to flow from her back wound, and Tristeza could feel that her time with her sister was running out.
In her final moments, Isabella opened her eyes weakly, staring at her crying sister beside her. She tried to smile, even though pain was evident on her face.
"Tris..." Isabella whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry... I couldn't protect you..."
Tristeza held her sister's hand tightly, tears flowing freely. "Sis, don't talk like that. You always protected me..."
Isabella shook her head weakly. "Live happily, Tris... I love you..."
With those words, Isabella took her last breath. Her hand slipped from Tristeza's grip, and Tristeza could only cry beside her sister's now lifeless body.