The sound of a slap rang through Novela's modest home. The woman's head snapped to the right as her father's broad hand landed squarely on her cheek. The pain in her cheek mingled with the pain in her heart. But what hurt even more was seeing the disappointment and hurt in both her parents' eyes.
Beside her father, her mother could do nothing. Novela stared blankly as she touched her stinging cheek. She didn't argue or try to dodge. Yes, she deserved that slap. To Novela, it wasn't even enough for the shameful thing she'd done.
"Why? Why did you humiliate your mother and me, Vela? I raised you right and gave you advice every day so you wouldn't go astray, sweetheart, but this is what you give us?" Gibran stared at his daughter with deep disappointment. "You threw filth in your parents' faces, Vela," he continued softly, so softly that it was almost a whisper.
Selena merely shook her head, covering her mouth with one hand. She no longer knew what to say. As for Novela, the woman still hadn't spoken. She was ashamed. Ashamed of herself, and especially of her father and mother.
"I gave you the best education I could. I gave you everything you wanted. So why did you have to disappoint us like this? Why, Novela?" Gibran collapsed onto the black sofa. His head bowed, and then sobs escaped him, shattering Novela's heart even further.
"Sweetheart?"
"Forgive Vela, Mom, Dad. Forgive Vela. I've brought shame on you both." At last, the woman spoke in a whisper. She even knelt before her parents.
"Vela," Selena called softly. "Is he willing to take responsibility?" she asked.
At that question, Novela began sobbing even harder. It hurt her terribly. "I'm sorry." That was all that came out of the beautiful woman's mouth. "He... He doesn't want to take responsibility. He won't even acknowledge his own child."
"Oh, my God." The words escaped Selena and Gibran's mouths in unison.
"WHY?! WHY WON'T HE TAKE RESPONSIBILITY, HUH?!" Gibran roared. The man, nearly sixty years old, shot to his feet. His hands clenched tightly as he glared at his daughter, demanding an explanation. "ANSWER ME, VELA!" he bellowed.
"Dad?"
"Be quiet, honey! I'm asking my daughter."
"I'm sorry—"
"I don't need an apology, Vela! What I need is an explanation. Do you understand?!" Gibran cut her off.
"Max... Max said this child isn't his flesh and blood. He even accused me of cheating on him, Dad."
Hearing their daughter's words, Gibran and Selena were stunned. They simply couldn't believe a man could be heartless enough to refuse to acknowledge his own child. But before either of them could speak, Novela spoke first. "Don't ever go to that house, Dad, Mom. I've promised to raise this child, even without him," she said, her voice suddenly flat.
"But, sweetheart—"
"No, Mom." Novela raised her hand, signaling for her mother not to finish. "Don't ever set foot in that house. It was enough that I endured that humiliation. Don't let it happen to the two of you as well. If it does, I'll never let that family off the hook."
"Novela?" Gibran called softly. He had never seen this side of his daughter before.
"No, Dad. Don't do that," Novela said softly, turning her gaze to her father. "I'm leaving this city. I'll hide in a city they'll never be able to find me in. Don't let my older brother find me. Tell him I left of my own choice." Novela offered a small smile, one that tore at her heart. "Let this be my fate, Dad, Mom. I did this, so I'll take responsibility for myself."
Novela paused for a moment, drawing a slow breath. She closed her eyes briefly, absorbing the unbearable pain gnawing at her heart. "I'll raise this child well, and one day I'll take my revenge on that family."