Hi, I'm Luna Narveal, and this is the story of my life—well, my past life, to be exact. Oh yes, I died. Now I'm in the afterlife, waiting to be judged. But before that, let me tell you a little about my life before I died.
You see, I was a girl who faced many misfortunes despite having beautiful looks. Yes, my dear, I was cute, beautiful, and hot—but I never had any interest in dating. Woah, hold up! I'm not homosexual, but I'm a huge fan of the LGBTQ+ rainbow nation. And guess what? I only loved watching BL (Boys' Love), some K-dramas, Chinese dramas, and Japanese dramas—but only the ones where there's thawwww then electricity. [slaps hand]
Anyway, enough of the stalling—let me take you through my life's journey. Like I said, I had many misfortunes, but poverty was never one of them. Even though my family was financially unstable, it didn't matter because we found happiness in each other. I lived in an underdeveloped country, and you can imagine the struggles we faced. But despite those struggles, my family and I found happiness—until one day, everything changed.
My dad came from a traditional family. When his wife couldn't bear children, his family insisted he take another woman to have kids—and that woman was my mom. We all lived happily despite the struggles, even though Dad had another wife who was basically Cinderella's evil stepmother in disguise.
Then, out of the blue, my dad and mom started falling apart. They fought constantly, and just like that, our happy family ended—without any explanation.
It was hard for some of us to live without Dad, since he was always there for us—unlike Mom. He knew everything about us, and because of that, we were all scared to disappoint him. We never dared to think about boys, dating, or other things typical for teenagers. It became even harder for me because I'd grown used to him. So, my siblings and I decided to go stay with him.
My other siblings who stayed with Mom hated me for that, but I didn't care—I had Dad.
In fifth grade, my primary school principal tried to adopt me—but I ran away. You must think I'm crazy, right? How could I run away from luxury and return to a life of struggle?
Well, after I went to stay with the principal, my parents started fighting more often. Dad refused to let me stay with a stranger, and Mom was angry because I was smart, and staying with the principal would help with my education. So, to make them send me back, I started behaving badly—bullying her niece and teaching her son bad habits. But even that wasn't enough for her to send me home.
So, I ran away—and it worked, except that she got very hurt by it. That broke my heart because she was the first person to show me a mother's love. But I had to stay strong if I wanted her to believe me.
From that day on, I distanced myself from her. Even in class, I avoided participating just to avoid her. I focused on my life—until one day when the world stood still.
My dad—my Dabby—died right in front of my eyes, in my hands. I was the one who declared him dead because I was testing if he was still breathing while my brothers panicked, not knowing what to do.
I started panicking too. I struggled to breathe, then my so-called aunts came in and kicked us out of the room.
The next morning, we were told to take what was ours and leave. We left and went to Mom's—but she wasn't home. She was told Dad had died right in front of her, but she wasn't there to support us—and that tore me apart.
In the afternoon, my brother told us Dad was taken to the morgue. I tried to stay strong, but later that day, when I realized I'd never see him again, I just couldn't hold it in. I cried every day and every night, hoping someone would wake me and say it was all just a nightmare.
But no one did—because it wasn't.
He was gone—and he was never coming back.