Finding My Voice In Her Skin

The tricycle ride lasted about 15 minutes, and before long, Angel and her mother arrived at their home.

"We're finally home,"

her mother said, breaking the quiet.

Angel nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on her lips.

They were indeed home at last.

As she stepped inside, Angel took a moment to survey the familiar surroundings. The house wasn't large—no second floor, more akin to a studio apartment in size. It had aged visibly over the years, having been purchased long before Angel was even born. But she didn't dwell on these details. The house's history or her family's heritage didn't occupy her thoughts much. To her, it was simply home.

She walked inside, her mother trailing behind her. As Angel crossed the threshold, she spotted her father lounging on the sofa, eyes glued to the TV. At first she was hesitant to even call him, since they just fought yesterday but she has no choice now does she?

"Pa, I'm home,"

she announced, setting down the carton bag of clothes on an empty spot on the couch.

Her father turned to her, his expression a mix of confusion and mild shock.

"What do you mean, 'pa'? Who are you?"

Angel froze for a moment, then sighed. She'd forgotten to tell him. He'd barely been around since she'd transformed into a girl. It must have been jarring for him—a beautiful, unfamiliar girl walking into his house and calling him "pa." She glanced back at her mother, her eyes pleading for help.

Her mother raised an eyebrow but understood.

"I'll explain,"

she said, stepping forward.

After Angel changed into her sundress and her mother into her casual attire—a plain t-shirt and long skirt—they sat down with her father. Her mother began recounting the day's events: how Angel had revealed she was Joseph, how she'd turned into a girl after a strange dream, and how her mother had reluctantly accepted the situation, even taking her shopping for new clothes. Though her mother still harbored doubts, there was little else to be done.

When her mother finished, her father clasped his hands together, leaning forward with a serious expression. It was a reaction Angel had expected. He turned to her, his gaze skeptical.

"Joseph... I mean, Angel,"

he began, his voice cautious,

"are you really my son?"

Angel nodded firmly.

"I am, Pa. Believe me."

Despite her assurance, her father still seemed unconvinced. He shook his head dismissively. "Fine, fine. Do whatever you want," he muttered, returning his attention to the TV.

Angel knew he was still suspicious. Her father had always been hard to read—nonchalant, almost indifferent, unlike her mother, whose emotions were always written plainly on her face. Deciding not to linger in the living room, Angel retreated to her bedroom.

Once inside, she immediately caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She reached for a comb and began gently untangling her long silver hair. Right, she thought, I should check my phone later to see if any of my novels have gotten attention.

After finishing with her hair, she turned on the electric fan and sat on her bed, phone in hand. She unlocked it and navigated to her blog. Her heart sank as she saw the lack of activity.

"Still no views,"

she muttered, biting her lower lip. If her current light novels weren't gaining traction, would a new one based on her life fare any better? She'd spent years honing her craft, yet she hadn't received even a shred of recognition. The frustration was overwhelming.

Angel flopped onto her bed, burying her face in a pillow. She kicked her legs against the mattress, letting out a muffled groan. Just as she was about to give in to tears, a notification from Messenger interrupted her.

She sat up quickly, wiping her eyes. It was a message from Raymundo.

[Joseph, I met your sister at SM. You didn't tell me you had such a beautiful sister!]

Angel couldn't help but laugh.

"This dumbass,"

she muttered, a small smile breaking through her frustration.

"I really hope you don't fall for me."

She set her phone aside and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her emotions were all over the place today—one moment she was on the verge of tears, the next she was laughing. It was exhausting.

"I want to write. I want to post a chapter,"

she whispered to herself.

"But I'm too lazy. Would anyone even care if I stopped posting? Would they care if I posted a chapter today?"

Her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears as she sighed, the weight of her ambitions and insecurities pressing down on her.

Knock knock.

Suddenly, Angel heard a knock on the door. She quickly sat back up and started tidying herself, smoothing out her clothes and fixing her hair.

"Who is that?"

Angel asked after finally being satisfied with her appearance.

"It's me."

Ah, it was her father. Angel quickly stood up, hurried to the door, and opened it.

"Yes, Pa?"

Angel peeked from behind the door, tilting her head cutely as she looked at him.

"Have you eaten?"

Ohh??? Ohhh?? Her father never asks if she's eaten! No, really! He isn't the type to do that!

"Yes, me and Mom ate at SM. Whyy?"

Angel looked at her father curiously. He seemed to be averting his eyes, unable to hold proper eye contact. What's up with himm? It's so interesting to see him like this!

"Oh, I see... If you get hungry, I bought some paksiw from a karinderya. Just grab it from the ref."

Her father turned around but stopped mid-step, hesitating for a moment.

"Also, sorry... for yelling at you during dinner last night."

Angel's eyes widened 

His voice was so small that Angel was sure she wouldn't have caught it if she hadn't been so focused on what he was saying!

Still, that was weirdd! Her father rarely apologizes. Was it because of her mom? Or was it because she had turned into a girl? 

"It's okay, Pa. Thank you!"

Angel replied in her sweetest, softest tone. She saw her father flinch slightly before continuing to walk back to the living room. Angel couldn't help but laugh a teeny tiny bit. Hearing him apologize made her feel all warm, geez that old man..

Dearest father sure can't be honest sometimes!