Lady Johainee D. Banocag

The deafening chatter of people downstairs slowly vanished as I closed the door behind me. I locked it right away and gave the knob a quick twist to double-check.

“It’s locked.” I briefly whispered to myself.

I shut off the lights and rushed to drag the curtains across the windows, completely blocking the streetlights outside.

With everything pitch black, I groped my way forward like a blind man, arms out and feet shuffling across the floor.

“Aydaw!” I cried out as the pain hit me. In a split second, I was curled on the edge of my bed holding my foot, praying I hadn’t just ripped off a toenail.

I smiled at the thought of what happened. And before I knew it, I was already laughing.

I laughed as I rolled across the mattress. I laughed until I was completely out of breath. I laughed until I cried. Then the laughter died, and only the crying was left.

“How could they do this to me?” I started speaking out loud.

“How could they force me to marry him?”

Tonight, I was supposed to be roaming around the busy streets of Manila.

That was the plan before graduation. Working in the big city had been my dream since before I even started college.

“I’ve never been there, Hainah. But I always see it in the videos and photos sent by my Papang’s sisters who lived there. They say there are a lot of opportunities, so it’s always been my dream to work there after graduation.”

My cousin Hainah, who I’m really close with, has probably heard me say this a thousand times.

“You know what, your eyes shine like stars when you talk to me about your dreams,” she said. “I love it when you’re giddy about the things you’d love to do.”

“I know.”

I loved that feeling too. Just imagining myself achieving what I wanted in life gave me a rush I couldn’t even explain.

And now, I’ve checked that major plan off my list. I’m officially a college graduate. The diploma is sitting somewhere in my room, proof that I finished what I started.

Except, things have completely flipped since that night.

My perfect plans didn’t just bend. It turned a full hundred and eighty degrees in a direction I never saw coming.

I can still vividly remember the day before my graduation.

The weather was a bit miserable.

It was gloomy, with the whole world looking washed out and gray. It was cold, too, and you could sense the heavy rain lurking just over the horizon, waiting to pour.

But despite the heavy clouds, inside our house, everything was in happy chaos.

It was the afternoon before my graduation kandori, and the kitchen air was thick with the rich, savory smell of my favorite palapa, piaparan a manok, piaren a badak, and randang being prepared for the guests.

The constant chatter of my aunts and cousins echoed through the rooms as they helped set up for the celebration.

We were right in the middle of it all when everything suddenly came to a halt.

A sharp, unexpected knock rattled our front door.

We were not expecting anyone. But when the door opened, an invited distant relative was standing there on the porch, silhouetted against the dark, stormy sky.

“Oh, Kaka Roy! What a surprise! I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow,” Mamang said, her voice rising in surprise as she flicked on the lights in our sala.

Kaka Roy was my late father’s third cousin.

According to my parents’ stories, he and Papang did not know each other until they met in a college club and learned that they were distant relatives. They eventually became friends even though Papang was years older than him.

Mamang told me that she had decided to invite him to my kandori after he left a congratulatory comment on one of her Facebook posts about my graduation.

“I had to leave before the day of the kandori because it kept on raining these days. You know how it is at inged. It would be hard to catch a ride if I had waited until tomorrow,” he explained.

“Oh, I see. Well, thank you for traveling all the way from there. We are happy to have you here at our home.” Mamang replied while smiling ear to ear.

To be perfectly honest, though, I was never fond of Kaka Roy.

He rarely visited us even when Papang was alive, and after Papang died, we only saw him at occasional family gatherings.

He felt like a stranger who only showed up when it suited him.

So, when he said, “Of course. I couldn’t miss Bibi’s graduation,” I didn’t really know what to say, what to react, or how to feel.

But I just smiled back for Mamang’s sake.

By nighttime, my aunts and cousins were already loading the car with things for the venue. Mamang grabbed her bag and keys, then turned to our unexpected guest.

“Kaka Roy, we actually need to step out for a bit. We just need to head over to the function hall to finish up the decorations for tomorrow’s kandori. We’ll be back as soon as everything’s done.”

I immediately turned to my mother after hearing that.

“Mamang, let me come with you and help. Please.” I continuously pleaded.

“No, anak. Just stay here and rest. You need to relax before your big day tomorrow. Go fix your toga instead. I know you’re dying to wear it,” Mamang replied with a playful tone.

“But I’ll be alone,” I whispered, keeping my voice low so Kaka Roy wouldn’t hear.

“I’ll head home the second I finish setting up the tables,” my cousin, Hainah, assured me. “Don’t worry. Just wait for me in your room.”

Before I could argue, the rest of the family left, shouting their quick goodbyes. The front door clicked shut, leaving a sudden, suffocating silence in the house.

I was left standing in the sala, alone with Kaka Roy.

“Uhm, Kaka Roy, I think I’m gonna go and sleep already. Bye.”

The awkwardness of talking to someone you’re not close with was too much for me to handle. So, I rushed towards the stairs to go up to my room when he suddenly yelled something in my direction.

“Bibi, where can I find you upstairs?”

I paused for a second, wondering why he had to ask that. But I realized that maybe he just needed to know in case he needed something.

“Uhm, the door at the end of the hallway to the left!” I yelled back, then tiptoed the rest of the way to my room.

Tiptoeing was a habit in an old wooden house like ours, where the floors creaked at every single step.

I actually loved those creaks, though. They always reminded me of Mamang doing her chores, or Papang coming home after a long day at work back when he was still with us.

The moment I got into my room, I closed the door behind me and locked it.

Mamang was right, honestly. I was so excited to wear my toga that I already had my entire outfit pressed, prepped, and hanging in my closet a full week before graduation.

“Perfect! Good night, toga! See you tomorrow.” And before I tucked myself to sleep, I even blew it a flying kiss.

I shut my eyes, trying to sleep.

A few minutes later, the familiar creak of the stairs echoed through the house.

“Hainah must be home,” I whispered sheepishly.

The footsteps were slow. Steady. They kept getting louder and closer, until suddenly, the sound stopped directly outside my door.

The door slowly pushed open.

It was too dark to see a face, but the dim streetlight from the window outlined a clear silhouette.

“The lock must have been broken,” I whispered to myself, remembering the click of the knob from earlier.

But before I could even process how the door opened, a sudden realization hit me.

It wasn’t Hainah.

The silhouette belonged to a man.

Before I could even make a sound, a rough grip pinned me down. Another hand clamped over my mouth, shoving my head deep into the pillow.

“If you scream, you’ll never see your Mamang again.”

Those were the last words I heard before a heavy, stinging punch slammed into my chest.

I gasped for air, helplessly trying to push Kaka Roy off me, but he was already pinning me to the mattress.

Why would he do this? How could he do this to me?

“Somebody help me.” I thought, right before everything went black.

A sudden rustle snapped me out of my daydream. I turned toward the noise, even though I couldn’t see a thing through the pitch-blackness of my room.

The dark had become my friend ever since that night.

It hid the parts of my room that reminded me of that monster.

It let me pretend I was just sleeping. That this was all just one long nightmare.

Bang!

A heavy thud rattled the door as the knob twisted violently. Someone was trying to break in.

I clamped my hands over my ears so hard that all I could hear was the frantic pounding of my heart echoing through my chest.

The door flew open. I shut my eyes tight, the tears rushing down my face even faster.

“How did you get in?! I locked it! I swear I heard it click! I locked the door. Please don’t hurt me again!”

I shrieked my lungs out, throwing my arms around myself and squeezing tight, trying to shield my body from whatever was coming.

No.

He can’t hurt me again. He can’t hurt me anymore. How dare he hurt me more?

He got what he wanted. He wanted to destroy my life, and that’s exactly what my life is now.

When I told my family the truth, the elders dragged my mother out of the house when she swore to get revenge. Now, the family I thought would fight for me is gathered downstairs to arrange a marriage.

A marriage to the man who destroyed my dreams. A marriage meant not to protect me, but to protect the family’s maratabat.

“Bibi! Bibi, stop! Anak, stop!”

I was thrashing, tossing, and turning wildly on the bed. But when I heard her voice, I forced my eyes open.

I saw my mother kneeling in front of my bed.

My poor, widowed Mamang was crying, her face covered in sweat and tears. Her voice shook, but her hands were steady as she held me.

I lay there shaking, filled with deep misery and rage.

“Mamang.” That was all I could manage to say.

I was broken, but seeing Mamang suffer was worse.

She blamed herself for leaving me alone that night. She blamed herself for ever letting that monster into our home. But I wish she would finally believe me when I tell her that I never blamed her for anything.

She wiped my tears and cupped my face.

Forcing a weak smile through her tears, she finally uttered the exact words I’d been dying to hear.

“Anak, it’s over. You are not marrying that man. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever.”

I didn’t know how she was going to face the elders down there, but I just hugged her tightly, trusting her words like my life depended on them.

The chatter from downstairs faded away, one by one, over the next few sleepless hours. By the next morning, our home was finally calm.

It was a good kind of quiet.

A few hours after breakfast, Mamang let in and introduced me to a man who was about my age. I learned that he was a Shariah Counselor who helped Mamang with my case.

He was standing a few meters away from where I was sitting at our sala, but I could still hear his voice loud and clear.

“The Bangsamoro Darul-Ifta’ has declared it strictly forbidden to force a woman to marry her rapist, emphasizing that voluntary consent is a fundamental requirement for Islamic marriage. The ruling ensures that rapists face severe criminal punishments and financial liabilities without gaining the right to coerce victims into marriage.”

I stared at him for a long time and tried to replay his words.

“What? Can you say that again?”

“No one can ever force you to marry someone who hurt you,” he repeated in a calm but resolute way while he was lowering his gaze in my direction.

Tears pricked my eyes, but this time, they weren’t from fear.

Mamang quickly wrapped me in her warm arms and slowly kissed my head.

This was the moment I’ve been waiting for. I could finally call this a dream come true.

This is my family’s true maratabat. An honor that belonged to a woman like me, reclaiming her future, not an outdated tradition seeking to silence my pain.