(CLOE'S POV)
Somebody's hiding in the shadow, and his shouting my name. He swiftly emerges from that shady corner with his grimacing face. His eyes are fiery; his brows are meeting each other, and his teeth are showing.
"Ziggy?" But before we can react more or make another move, his fist whacks over Bree's face. Covering his cheekbones and eyes.
After that one word that came out of my mouth, I was suddenly dumbstruck, watching his hands fly in slow-motion for a while, and something red slipped out from it as he hits Bree's face. Bree almost lost his balance after Ziggy's fist drove him back, but he tried to regain his balance and forge on Ziggy to retaliate with a blow that landed on Ziggy's lips. I was taken aback and pushed out of the way after I felt someone, one of our friends, pulling me away from the two clashing men of my life. And someone pulls the two men far from each other as the clamoring crowd starts to form around them.
Ziggy forcefully liberates himself from those hands that are holding him. He gives me one last meaningful look and walks away. I am stuck on my feet, still dumbfounded. I don't know how to react, and I'm totally overwhelmed. All I can discern is the pain in Zig's eyes that tugs at my heartstrings as if somebody's hand is squeezing my heart, preventing it from pumping, and hearing my faint voice mutter his name, "Zig?" together with a sudden flow of liquid that's wetting my cheeks.
*****
"So that's Ziggy?" Bree asked, flinching once or twice as I dampened a tinctured cotton on his swollen cheekbone.
I'm preventing myself from meeting his eyes. I feel bad for Bree, but I don't know how to make it up to him. "I'm sorry, Bree, for involving you in this drama."
"Oh, my sunshine, don't you dare say that. I am deliberately and happily involved in every way and in every part of your life." He holds my chin and tilts my head; he wants me to look at him before he speaks. "I'm willing to face any trouble if I need to; I'm willing to fight for you. But please tell me, Cloe, after tonight, how did you feel about him? What if he wants you back?"
"He can't, and he is about to get married. He had a fiancée, remember? I don't know why he's here. Maybe their wedding is settled, and he's just here to invite their relatives, or I don't know." I shake my head and shrug. I don't want to think more about it.
"Maybe, and if that's the case. He should not get furious and throw a fist at me." He wraps his hands around my shoulders as he pulls me back, lying deep in thought, while both eyes are fixed on the ceiling.
"A broken ego can make you do anything; even you know it's not right." I sigh after I mumble those words because what's inside me contradicts it. Ziggy's eyes didn't show a touched ego but a desperate heart. I can't forget what it looks like. I don't know if I want to inquire about it more. I am not even convinced of what I am saying; just know. I have known Zig ever since. He's the most humble person I've known, but I can't find any other reason why he has to do that.
*****
Bree leaves the house early. I prepared some breakfast before my mom woke up. Later, Dina appears at our front door.
"Hi, what brings you here this early?" I ask, slightly shocked and worried about her serious expression.
"This!" In her palm is a small red box, slightly distorted, like it's been hard-pressed.
I take the box; it looks familiar, then suddenly, something flashes through my mind: the red thing that slips from Ziggy's arms. It looks like it.
"I picked that up last night on the ground, where the punch-up happened."
I invite her inside and offer her a seat. "Then why did you give this to me?"
"Somebody's saying it's Zig's, and maybe he wants to give that to you."
"How can you say that? Why don't you give that to him?" I furrow my brow, a bit confused.
"He already left. His aunt said he came back to Bohol last night."
I checked the box and found my name written at the bottom. I opened it and saw a cute necklace with a pendant of the letters Z and C inside a heart. I closed the box and threw it away. It landed under the shelf, or somewhere I don't know, and I didn't care about it. I sigh, exasperated and confused; another set of tears fell from my eyes.
"I'm tired of it, and I'm tired of him. Why did he have to do this to me again? He's tormenting me. Why can't he just leave me alone?"
Dina hugs me, trying her best to help me ease my pain. "I don't know, Besh. If it's hard for you, maybe it's hard for him too. Maybe he still loves you."
"If he loves me, then why does he need to be with that girl? Why did he need to leave me? Why does he need to marry her?"
Between our deep and emotional conversation with Dina, there's a loud and agonizing scream from upstairs that frightens us. "It's my mom!" Immediately, we run to her and find her, crouching, lying on the floor in pain.
"Mom!?" I squeal, anxious and scared. Dina right away takes out her phone and dials an emergency hotline. I let out my phone too, whimpering and dialing Bree's number. It rings several times before he answers. "Bree," I mutter in my shaky voice.
"Sunshine, are you crying? What happened?"
"My mom---."
"Wait, I'm a little bit busy with work. I'm on duty, and we're just moving offshore. I will get back to you as soon as I'm done. Okay? Whatever happened, please compose yourself. Stay strong. I love you." And he ended the call.
I just nodded. My agitation didn't subside.
"WEE-oww-WEE-oww." The wailing sound of ambulance sirens arrived, causing the people, mostly our neighbors, to huddle over our front door; most are concerned, some are just prying. The medics slowly carry my mom inside the ambulance, and she's still curling in pain while her one hand is gripping hard on mine. We never let go, even though the medics are busy performing some initial examination on her. She's taking her pulse, blood pressure, and heart rate.
"Mom, please be strong, hold on. I am just here, and I will not leave you."
She didn't answer; she was groaning, and her face was distorting in pain, and I wanted to look away most of the time. I can't bear to look at her in this image. It feels terrible and excruciating.
The nurses and other medical staff meet us in haste. Before she let go of my hand, my mom looked at me when they rolled her on a stretcher towards the emergency room. I didn't hear any words from her, although she looked at me with so much to say. But at least she is conscious, and I can feel that whatever she is suffering right now will just pass by; everything will be okay.