Gigi hadn't called her father "Papa" in over five years.
Not since the day she overheard him in the garden whispering sweet lies to a woman who wasn't her stepmother at the time. Not since she saw his wedding band glint in the sunlight like a sick joke.
She still lived under his roof, technically. They passed each other in the halls. She said "Good morning." He said "Ingat, anak." The bare minimum. The performance of a father-daughter relationship.
But deep down, something between them had long been broken - quietly, and completely.
That's why, when Malou - the current wife - stormed into the living room sobbing, Gigi didn't flinch.
She knew this script.
"I found messages," Malou choked, her mascara streaking. "Photos. Videos. She's young, Gigi. So young."
The rest of the family froze. Kuya Josh shifted awkwardly on the couch. Tito Lando pretended to be deeply interested in the television. Lolo Ben said nothing, as usual. Gigi stood there, watching her stepmother crumble in front of men who looked everywhere but at her.
Her father appeared at the top of the stairs like a delayed villain. "Malou, let's not do this in front of everyone - "
"No," Gigi said, voice clear. "Let's."
He turned to her, surprised. "Anak - "
"Don't call me that."
Silence.
She stepped forward, fire behind every word. "You did it again. You cheated. Again. And we're just supposed to pretend it's fine? Like always?"
"This isn't your business - "
"She's my family too. And you - " she pointed at him, finger shaking slightly, " - you are the reason I don't believe in love. You taught me that affection is a trick, that marriage is temporary, and that being a woman means waiting to be replaced."
His jaw tightened. "Watch your tone."
"Why? Will you leave me too if I stop smiling?"
A hush fell over the room. Malou stared at her through watery eyes, shocked by the sudden defense. Josh looked like he wanted to disappear. Gigi didn't care. Not anymore.
"I used to think you were my hero," she said, softer now. "That you were different from the others. That I was special because you called me your princess. But you're just a man who lies for sport. And I am done pretending you didn't ruin everything good about love for me."
He said nothing. Just stood there, exposed.
Gigi turned to Malou. "You don't have to stay. You deserve better than being someone's placeholder."
And then she walked out - through the living room, past the portraits on the wall, past the ghosts of her stepmothers, past the echo of her younger self who once believed in daddies who protected daughters.
That girl was gone.
She got in her car, drove aimlessly, and ended up at the old park where Caloy used to teach her how to ride a bike. She sat on the bench, fists clenched, stomach aching from the rage she'd swallowed for too long.
Her phone buzzed.
Caloy: Where are you?
Gigi: Somewhere between letting go and losing it.
Caloy: I'm on my way.
She didn't say yes. Didn't have to. He'd come anyway.
And for the first time in a long time, she let herself cry.
Not for her father.
Not for Malou.
But for the girl who used to believe she was protected.
And for the woman who now had to protect herself.