We Are The Secret

Dara returned home, weighed down by the invisible chains of his depression. Without a second thought, he retreated to his room, hoping sleep might offer an escape. Just as he settled into bed, his phone buzzed.

"Hello," he answered, his voice flat.

"Hi, Dara. It's Marina," came the bright voice of his younger stepsister. "Dad wants to see you. Can we meet tomorrow, around lunch, at home?"

Dara stared at the ceiling, his mind heavy. "Sure," he muttered, unwilling to prolong the conversation. Marina thanked him, but he had already disconnected, letting the silence swallow him once again.

But as he lay there, his thoughts churned, dark and unyielding. Let me see him one last time, he told himself. I don't know if I can hold on until your 100th day, Mom. It's so hard... I can't bear it anymore. Mom, I'm coming to see you soon.

The weight of those words pressed down on him as the silence grew unbearable.

***

At Mr. Heng's elegant neo-classic villa, the dining table was set for four. Mr. Heng sat at the head, his composed wife, Mrs. Dalin, by his side. Monica, the poised elder sister of twenty-nine, and Marina, the spirited twenty-five-year-old, completed the gathering. 

Outside, the hum of a Tuk Tuk signaled Dara's arrival. Stepping through the door, he was warmly greeted by the household, their smiles welcoming him into their fold.

Monica, a strikingly beautiful woman with a warm demeanor, greeted Dara with a gentle smile. 

"Hello, Dara. Glad to see you, and thank you for coming," she said, her voice kind and reassuring. She understood the sorrow Dara carried, mourning his late mother. Dara managed a faint smile and replied softly, 

"Hello, sister."

Monica's smile widened as she continued, 

"Everyone is waiting for you. Come in and have lunch with us." Her tone was inviting, a blend of warmth and sincerity. Dara nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Yes," he replied, stepping further into the villa where the comforting aroma of a shared meal filled the air.

The five of them ate in silence, the clink of silverware the only sound breaking the quiet. Occasional small talk fluttered between them, but the atmosphere remained calm and subdued. 

The meal passed without much else, until Monica's phone rang, cutting through the tranquility. She answered with a quick, "Hello?"

A voice on the other end was urgent, "There's something important at the company. Can you come with Madam Dalin, please?"

Monica nodded, her tone firm. "Yes, of course. We'll be there shortly."

"I have to head to the office now," Monica said, her voice steady. "Aunt Dalin, please stay here and talk with Dad about Dara."

"But we need you too," Dalin insisted, her concern clear.

Monica gave a reassuring smile. "It's okay. I agree with you. You can handle this."

***

After lunch, Heng spoke gently, his voice steady but warm. 

"I know your mother entrusted all her property to you, and I appreciate it. It's for your future, so you can live well and move forward. Aunt Dalin, Monica, and I have talked about bringing you into the office as soon as you're ready. You won't be alone in this, and you're always welcome here whenever you need."

Dara felt a wave of ease and relief wash over him. It was unexpected, the warmth with which they welcomed him, and he gratefully accepted their offer. 

Dalin then added, 

"I heard from Marina that you've been working on the digital side, and that's great. "Our company still needs to build its brand, especially since Marina wants to create our own branding awareness with a cultural art line, and she's incredible at digital art. If the two of you work together, I believe our company will grow in reputation."

"Yes, and I am happy to hear that," Dara responded, his voice steady. Hearing this, Marina smiled, clearly pleased by the confirmation.

***

As Dara stepped out of the house, Marina followed him, her face clouded with sadness. 

"Before your mother passed away," she said softly, "she came here." The words struck Dara like a blow, and he froze, shock rippling through him.

"Why did she come? To see Father?" Dara asked, his voice trembling with a mix of confusion and hope.

"She came to our father, begging for forgiveness for what you'd done," Marina replied, her voice heavy with sorrow. "But dad, being old-fashioned and conservative, was furious. He blamed Aunt Saroath, saying she was the worst mother he'd ever seen."

A wave of unhappiness washed over Dara, his heart aching with the weight of Marina's words. The pain cut deeper than he had expected, stirring emotions he had long buried.

"What dad said to your mother... it was too much," Marina paused, her eyes filled with regret. 

Dara, struggling to understand, asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

"I think there may be another reason for your mother's death, and I'm truly sorry. As you know, Dad can be so cruel and heartless at times—even my own mother couldn't bear to live with him. Aunt Dalin, well, she's not our biological mother, not for me or Monica."

Dara, still uneasy, asked firmly, "What exactly did Dad say to my mom that you believe played a part in her decision to... to end it all?"

Marina trembled, her hands shaking as she fought to hold back the words. She didn't want to say it, but Dara's relentless questioning pushed her further. 

"Marina, please," Dara insisted, his voice steady but desperate. "I need to know."

Marina faltered, her voice barely a whisper. "He... he said..."

Dara's face hardened. "Said what?"

She took a shaky breath, her eyes downcast. "He said he won't accept you as his legal son. And that neither of you should ever step foot in this house again. He said... Dad would kill you, an illegitimate son... only brings bad luck to the family. "But I believe it was just his furious words, okay?"

Hearing those words, a cold bitterness spread through Dara. The kindness, the gestures of generosity earlier at the lunch table—they all suddenly felt hollow, like carefully crafted lies. He realized it had all been a façade, an act, masking the cruelty beneath.

"Thank you, Marina, for telling me this," Dara said, his voice steady but distant. "Goodbye."

Marina watched him turn, a wave of unease washing over her. Her words hung in the air, heavier than she had anticipated. 

Had she done the right thing, or had she just deepened his pain? She couldn't shake the doubt gnawing at her—was this the harsh truth he needed to hear, or should it have remained buried forever? But it was too late now. The damage was done, and the truth had already left her lips.