Chapter 66: The Secret Within the Heart
Adelina's Point of View
Several days have passed while we continue to stay at Romeo's condo. Life here has settled into a routine—comfortable, quiet, and serene, a stark contrast to the life we knew in our cramped apartment in Kawit.
Every evening, Romeo returns home exhausted from his mysterious job. Yet, no matter how worn out he looks, he never fails to offer me a smile when he finds me waiting by the door. In the mornings, he is gone before I know it, heading out early for work.
As a gesture of gratitude, I've taken it upon myself to prepare his dinners. I cook simple meals I know he'll enjoy: sinigang na baboy with fresh vegetables from the market, fried bangus with a side of ensalada, and steaming white rice.
While I cook, memories of preparing meals for my siblings in our old apartment flicker through my mind—the chaos of their voices, Lola's laughter as she prepped the greens. But now, the act of cooking feels different. I am no longer just doing it for my siblings; I am doing it for a man.
He is someone I never expected would become a part of my daily life. Whenever I see him enjoying his food and praising my cooking, a spark of joy stings my chest. It feels as though a bond is slowly forming, one I don't fully understand yet.
I admit, hearing his thanks after he finishes a meal makes me happy. It feels like I'm finally paying him back for his kindness toward us. Every morning, I wake up early—at six o'clock, before the sun even peeks through the large condo windows—to prepare breakfast: dried danggit, chicken adobo with potatoes, and garlic fried rice that fills the kitchen with a comforting aroma.
It has become a habit: while I prep, Romeo showers. However, a knot of nerves forms in my stomach every time I hear the bathroom door open, signaling he's finished.
It feels like butterflies are fluttering in my gut—a sensation I can't quite explain. "Why am I like this?" I ask myself while stirring his coffee. "He's no different from my brothers." Deep down, I tell myself it's just my duty to look after him—to serve the man who gave my family hope.
One morning, while the smell of frying eggs filled the air and the coffee was bubbling on the stove, the bathroom door creaked open. Romeo stepped out wearing nothing but shorts. He was shirtless, with a white towel draped over his shoulders, and droplets of water trailed from his wet hair down his broad chest.
His physique was striking—muscular and lean, with abs that looked as if they were carved for a warrior. I stood there, speechless, staring at him from such a close distance. I noticed scars on his arms and side, marks that suggested he truly was no stranger to battle. It made me more curious than ever about what his "work" actually entailed.
Since the bathroom and kitchen are adjacent, he had to walk right past me, his slippers making soft tapping sounds on the marble floor. He caught me setting plates on the table, but he stopped abruptly right in front of me.
I didn't know what he was thinking, but his eyes were fixed on me—moving from my hand holding the ladle to my face, which was now beginning to flush. He watched me for a long time, as if studying every move, from the way I stirred the coffee to how I transferred the eggs to the plate. I could feel his gaze heavy on me.
Startled, I looked him straight in the eyes. "W-what's your problem? Why are you watching me prep breakfast?" I snapped, my voice sounding frantic and tense. "Could you please put some clothes on before facing other people!"
I swallowed hard, my eyes involuntarily darting back to his chest. Why was this happening? Why was my face suddenly burning? He immediately apologized, his voice soft and laced with embarrassment.
"Sorry, Adelina. I just... remembered something." But instead of covering up or rushing to his room, he took the towel from his shoulders and slowly began to dry his hair.
Water droplets fell to the floor, and the scent of his soap filled the kitchen. I felt the heat in my cheeks intensify, fueled by embarrassment and... something else I couldn't yet define. It was so weird; I shouldn't be acting this way.
He stepped slightly closer and rested a hand on the table. "You don't have to wake up so early just to prepare food for me. I can always buy something from a shop or eat in the car while I'm driving." His eyes were serious, filled with concern. "You don't need to pay me back or look after me like this. You're just tiring yourself out."
I don't know why, but his words suddenly irritated me. My arms felt weak at his suggestion. It felt as if he were saying my efforts didn't matter, that they weren't for him. My chest tightened with a mix of annoyance and disappointment because he seemed to think what I was doing was worthless. It was infuriating. Why did it hurt so much?
"I don't want to," I said stubbornly, plopping an egg onto a plate. "I'm doing this because we are living in your home," I answered boldly. "I won't allow myself to be even more indebted to you. I can't pay you back with money, so at least through this, I can have peace of mind knowing I'm paying you back."
My voice was steady, but inside, I was panicking. What if he said he didn't like my cooking? What if he truly didn't want me doing any of this? He simply sighed, his face showing he didn't want to argue further.
He laid the damp towel on the counter and gave a small smile. "Fine, have it your way. Truthfully, I actually prefer this. What you're doing is a huge help to me."
The words sent a wave of warmth through my chest. "Really? You're okay with me cooking for you?"
"Huh? Of course. Your cooking is delicious, and it's a favor to me."
"Tch, so be it then," I grumbled, though a smile played at the corner of my lips. "What was the issue then? Just let me do this. And if you don't want to eat what I cook, you can just leave it on the table."
I set the pitcher down. He smiled briefly as he picked up a hotdog to eat. "I'll eat everything you cook, no matter how it tastes. Even if it's bland or too salty, I'd never waste food—earning money is hard work," he said with a teasing tone, his eyes locked on mine while he chewed.
I suddenly got defensive at the word "bland." "I don't cook bland food!" I shouted, my face flushing with annoyance again.
At my outburst, he immediately apologized. I could see in his expression that he was enjoying teasing me, but I couldn't stay mad because his smile this morning was so beautiful. It was a world away from the exhausted, somber expression he wore when he usually came home from work.
"Actually, I'm just scared of what you're doing. That's why I'm uncomfortable with you preparing my meals."
"Scared? Wait, I'm not going to poison you! My cooking looks decent enough!" I replied, confused and slightly worried.
He smiled, his eyes full of tenderness. "It's not being poisoned that I'm afraid of. It's just... I'm getting used to this, and it might be hard for me to be alone again once you leave."
Those words felt like a bomb going off in my chest—the heat surged from my face straight to my heart. I couldn't look at him; my cheeks were as red as chili peppers. Why was I like this? Why did the world feel so different when he smiled?
Overwhelmed with shyness, I forced myself to answer even though my voice was visibly tense. "I don't know how long I'll be staying in your condo, but as long as I owe you, I'll make sure to pay it back by preparing your meals."
Deep down, I was afraid of losing this routine too. Cooking for him had become a simple joy for me. He just smirked and didn't reply—a smirk full of secrets. After a moment, he walked toward his room. I didn't know what was going through his head, but I was starting to wonder myself.
How long would this last? It was so comfortable in this home—the soft bed, the air conditioning, the large TV I used with Lola and Aries at night. I could see how happy Lola and Aries were here; Lola was moving more vibrantly than before, and her health was steadily improving.
I wanted to stay, but I knew this was temporary. Eventually, his help would end, and we would have to return to our old life in Kawit. We had no choice but to go back to where we came from.
Hours after Romeo left, Aries and I were in the living room watching an old soap opera about love during wartime. Suddenly, Aries bolted upright, clutching his phone in shock.
"Bad news, Ate! Ate Maya and the others are in jail!" he said, panicking.
My heart began to race. Luckily, Lola was asleep in her room—if she had heard that, she would have been terrified, and her illness might have returned.
"What happened?" I asked, my voice trembling as I pulled him closer.
"My friend just told me—Ate Aira, Ate Maya, and Ate Mara were all caught! We need to go home right now!" he replied, his hands shaking as he typed a reply.
We scrambled to get ready. I threw off my loungewear and changed into jeans and a t-shirt, franticly searching for my wallet and phone. We ducked into Lola's room; she was fast asleep on the soft bed. I stroked her hand and kissed her forehead.
"Lola, we're just heading out for a bit. We'll be back soon," I whispered, knowing she couldn't hear me. We slipped out quietly, closing the door behind us.
Hours later, we arrived at the precinct. A massive crowd was gathered outside—at least a hundred people, many of them our neighbors from the apartment complex, begging the police.
"Please let them go! They haven't done anything wrong!" an elderly woman cried, wiping tears from her eyes. Some neighbors were clutching at the officers' uniforms, pleading. The air was a thick mix of sobbing, shouting, and the sound of guards' batons clattering against metal barriers.
Despite our pleas, we weren't allowed inside. The police stood like a human wall, clutching their firearms. "Go home! You can visit the prisoners tomorrow!" one shouted, his face as cold as stone.
We joined the others, waiting for a breakthrough amidst the chaos. We approached Aling Rosa, our neighbor, who was weeping in a corner. "Why were they taken, Aling Rosa?" I asked, gripping her cold, trembling arm.
"There was a raid in our area earlier, Adelina! All of Don Felidemo's people were taken!" she replied, her voice hoarse. "It wasn't just his house—they raided his nightclubs and gambling dens too! It was the military that came, not the police! They were chasing people with guns!"
We were stunned. Don Felidemo was a wealthy Spaniard who owned almost every illegal business in Kawit. Most of his gambling dens and clubs were patronized by the police themselves, which made the arrest even more shocking.
"How could they do that? Aren't the police their customers?" I asked, my heart hammering.
"That's the scariest part," Aling Rosa whispered, pulling us away from the officers. "It wasn't the police who took them—truckloads of soldiers arrived, armed with long rifles like they were going to war! They rounded everyone up and shot anyone who resisted."
Aling Rosa's eyes were wide with terror as she recalled the scenes. The tension at the precinct was palpable; soldiers in black uniforms stood guard with rifles at the ready.
There were also many Spaniards inside, screaming at the soldiers. "¡Idiotas! ¡Esto es un error!" one yelled, his face purple with rage.
Don Felidemo was so wealthy he was considered the "big boss" of the honorary Spaniards in our area—everyone bowed to him. He was known for his illegal empires: drugs on every corner, gambling dens open until dawn, and prostitution. But because of his influence—millions in the bank and land all over Cavite—no one ever dared to touch him.
Soon, several black armored vans arrived, unloading more captured honorary Spaniards who were Felidemo's business partners. The area became even more chaotic as they fought back. "¡Suéltenme, bastardos!" one screamed, struggling against a soldier. They shouted threats: "You'll pay for this when we get out, remember that!"
Because of the mounting unrest, the police ordered us to leave. "Go home! You can't speak to your families! The Governor-General of Cavite has issued a strict order—no visitors today!" an official shouted. "We won't accept visitors until the Governor gives the word!" They began pushing the crowd back despite the heart-wrenching pleas.
"Please, have mercy, my son is a good man!"
"They are innocent!"
The soldiers remained unmoved, like emotionless robots. Fearing for my sisters but realizing we were powerless, we had no choice but to obey.
We went to our old home—a large building of apartment units where Don Felidemo's employees lived. It was only ten minutes from the station. When we arrived, our three younger siblings—Ben, Carlo, and Dina—were shivering with fear in the room.
"Ate! They took Ate Mara!" Dina cried, hugging me tightly.
Because they were minors, the soldiers left my three youngest siblings alone, but they took my older sisters—Aira, Maya, and Mara—because they were inside the building where Felidemo's business was operated. According to them, everyone inside was arrested: those suspected of selling drugs, running gambling operations, and the women in the clubs.
It was terrifying because we knew this wouldn't end easily. Poor Filipinos like us aren't listened to in courts or precincts. There was no clear way for my sisters to get out; the law was for the rich, not for us.
"What is happening? Why is the Governor-General going after Don Felidemo?" I asked while holding Dina.
As we sat in despair, I saw Aries crying in a corner. After a while, he looked at me and whispered, "Do you think Kuya Romeo has something to do with this?"
"Huh? What would he have to do with it?" I asked, confused.
Aries then told me that Romeo had once asked him about our sisters' situation. He had asked for names of people involved in illegal activities. Aries had told him everything—the nightclubs, the gambling tax Felidemo collected, the drugs being sold. Aries had a strong hunch that Romeo was responsible, especially since he had introduced himself as a government official.
Truthfully, I didn't want to believe it. He's only sixteen—how could he take down a wealthy Spaniard with connections all over Cavite? Yet, Aries insisted, because Romeo had told him directly that he would find a way to help my sisters.
I was conflicted. It seemed impossible, but if it were true, it might be our only hope. "If it's him," I whispered, "maybe they have a chance."
Since the area was still tense with patrolling soldiers, I decided to bring my three youngest siblings back to the condo with Lola. I tried to contact Romeo to ask permission, but he didn't reply. I was stressed all day, thinking of my sisters. I wanted to go to the precinct and beg the Governor himself, but I knew that making a scene might make things worse.
One wrong move and the law would hunt us all down. We kept the news from Lola, instructing the kids not to mention that their older sisters were in jail so she wouldn't get stressed and fall ill again.
That night, I waited. It was ten o'clock, and I sat on the sofa, eyes glued to the door. Time slows down when you're waiting. Eleven passed, then twelve, then one in the morning.
Finally, I heard the sound of the door opening—the distinct electronic chime of the keycard. I rushed from the sofa. As expected, Romeo had finally returned. He was wearing a crumpled black polo, his hair was a mess, and his eyes were heavy with fatigue.
I didn't waste a second. I swiped at his arm as he walked in. "Finally! Where have you been? Why haven't you been answering my messages?" I snapped.
He looked startled by the greeting and sighed. "Wait, what did I do wrong now? I just got here."
Even through his exhaustion, he managed a small smile. But instead of calming down, I demanded to know if he had forgotten how to use a phone or if he was ignoring me on purpose. He scratched his head, explaining he had two phones and rarely used the second one when he was overwhelmed with work. He hadn't expected me to text, so he hadn't checked it all day.
"Look, what's the problem? Can you let me in first?" he said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
He stepped forward, but I pushed him back and pulled him out into the hallway, telling him that Lola couldn't hear what we had to discuss. In the quiet, chilly hallway, I let it out.
"You're asking what the problem is? Shouldn't you be telling me something?"
He was silent for a moment before asking, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Did I forget to give you grocery money?"
In my frustration, I kicked him in the shin—not hard, but enough to make him flinch. "I'm not in the mood for jokes!"
He complained about the pain and asked again what was wrong, even joking, "I'm not a psychic, I can't read your mind."
"My sisters are in jail because the military took them! They were swept up in a raid in Kawit!" I shouted, tears finally starting to fall from grief and fear. "Tell me—did you have something to do with that?"
Romeo's face turned serious. He sighed. "So, they've started. Good thing the Governor-General listened to me." He spoke as if a secret plan had finally been executed.
"So it's true? You really had those Spaniards arrested? Are you insane?" I gasped, unable to believe it.
He said it wouldn't be easy to catch people as rich as them—he was sure they'd be out in two days—but he would make sure they faced justice.
I raised my voice again. "You can't do this! You might catch the Spaniards, but the Filipinos working for them will be dragged down too!"
He agreed. "True, they will be affected because they are involved in illegal activities and must answer to the law."
I was livid. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, wrinkling his collar. "My sisters are in jail because of you and they might be punished! Is this what you call helping?"
"Calm down. If they haven't done anything illegal, they will be released. I promise you that," he answered, calm but firm.
I snapped. In an unexplainable moment of rage and fear, I punched him in the face. My fist hit his cheek hard enough to make him stumble back. I was angry, but mostly I was terrified. The tears flowed freely now.
"You know nothing about us! My sisters were the Spaniards' servants, and they were forced to sell drugs to clients!" I sobbed. "My sisters sold drugs and sold themselves—do you understand what you've done to us?"
I explained that my sisters weren't "innocent" in the eyes of the law because they had to obey the Spaniards. For ten years, they had been buried in debt—unpaid rent, Lola's medical bills that cost thousands. They had no choice but to follow Don Felidemo's orders.
"Even if they catch the Spaniards, no one else will suffer here but the Filipinos who were their slaves!" I screamed. "We just want to live with our loved ones, but we are never given the chance to have a decent life in this rotten country!"
I grabbed his collar again. "Tell me, what happens to us now that my sisters are locked up? What happens to their dreams for our younger siblings? Tell me, how are we supposed to live happily now?!"
I couldn't stop crying. My chest ached with rage and the sheer terror of what lay ahead. Romeo just stood there, silent. A profound sadness washed over his face. His eyes were incredibly mournful as he looked at me, his cheek reddening from my punch.
I knew deep down I couldn't blame him entirely; it was true my sisters were involved in crimes the law had to stop. But I couldn't just accept it. The pain in my chest wouldn't go away. My head slumped against his chest as I continued to weep, thinking of the miserable fate of my sisters.
I could feel his heartbeat. I don't know why, but the warmth of his body eased the pain just a little. I was angry with him, but my heart knew he was the only one I could lean on in a moment like this. I wanted to believe that the man I trusted—the one who was always there when I had a problem—would help us again.
As I leaned against him, he suddenly placed a hand on my head and stroked my hair. He gently lifted my chin so I had to face him. He took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the tears from my eyes. His light touch on my cheek made me feel a bit better.
"I know this is hard for you," he whispered, his voice full of understanding. "What your family faces next is no joke, but this had to happen. If we let them remain slaves to the Spaniards, they'll be stuck in that life forever."
He sighed and gripped my shoulders firmly. "Your fight for a better life won't be easy, but it's not too late. When I said I wanted to help you change your life, I meant it. You have to trust me."
His words left a mark on my mind. They calmed me. It was exactly what I had wanted to hear from him. I knew I was becoming too dependent on him, but I was desperately hoping his promises were true.
A moment later, he winced, touching his swollen cheek. "Could you please, Adelina? You don't have to punch me every time you're mad."
I immediately panicked and started apologizing, my hands trembling as I touched his cheek. "I'm sorry! I was just so angry and worried about my sisters."
He let out a short, teasing laugh. "What? What's funny?" I asked, confused.
"Nothing. It's just... even in my dreams, I never thought a woman would get mad and punch me the moment I got home. You're worse than a nagging wife," he joked, his eyes looking at me with admiration.
I felt a wave of shyness and realized how wrong I had been to hit him. I apologized again, insisting I wasn't a "nagging" woman. I wanted to keep arguing, but I stopped when I saw the beautiful smile on his face—a smile like a ray of sunshine that sent a surge of warmth to my heart.
I don't know why I feel this way, but my heart started pounding as I watched him in that moment. It was as if time had stopped and we were the only two people in the world.
He eventually invited me inside because he was hungry—he hadn't eaten dinner yet and had expected me to have something ready. We slipped quietly back into the unit, closing the door softly so as not to wake Lola. I looked after him as I always did, and we shared the rest of the night with our quiet conversation.
End of Chapter