The plane touched down in Manila with a gentle jolt, but inside my chest, everything was still crashing.
No one spoke.
Not Lucien.
Not Calix.
Not me.
It was like the grief hardened into stone and wedged itself between us, silent, unmoving, undeniable.
Sa wakas, tapos na ang delusyon.
David was not Paul.
The DNA said it.
Lucien saw it.
I saw it.
We all saw it.
Pero bakit parang... hindi pa rin sapat?
Bakit parang may natira pa ring konting-konting parte sa loob ko na umaasa?
Na baka mali lang.
Na baka may plot twist.
Na baka, kahit papaano, magising pa rin ako sa isang umagang buhay ang lahat ng iniwan ko.
But reality is colder than any nightmare.
Paul is dead.
And David… he was just a stranger with the same eyes.
Pagdating sa airport, si Calix ang nag-ayos ng mga gamit. Tahimik. Efficient. Walang tinatanong. Walang sinasabi.
Lucien, on the other hand, looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
He kept wringing his hands, his eyes empty. He didn't even seem to notice where we were like his body flew back to Manila, but his soul stayed behind… somewhere in the ashes.
Nasa waiting area kami ng private lounge nang bigla niyang sinabi, “Sabihin na lang nating kagagawan to ng mga Zobel.”
Napatingin ako sa kanya. “Lucien…”
“Para lang may masisi,” he added bitterly, slumping into the chair. “Para lang maipilit ko sa utak ko na may dahilan. Na may villain. Kasi kung aksidente lang… kung walang may kasalanan…”
Tumigil siya. Saglit lang. Pero sapat na ‘yon para maramdaman kong nauupos na siya. Bit by bit.
“Then what’s left, Aurora?” he said quietly. “Anong natira kung wala nang dahilan ang lahat?”
I couldn’t answer.
Because i didn’t know either.
And maybe… that’s the scariest kind of grief. The one without logic.
The one that just is.
Pagkarating sa bahay, nagpaalam si Calix. Sinabi niyang kailangan niyang dumaan sa opisina ng ama niya, isang pormal na dahilan na halatang hindi totoo.
Naiintindihan ko naman.
Masyado nang masikip ang pagitan naming tatlo.
Kahit ako, hindi ko na alam kung saan ako lulugar.
Pagpasok namin sa bahay, Lucien walked straight to the balcony, threw his bag on the couch, and lit a cigarette.
Nanatili lang ako sa hallway, hindi sigurado kung susundan ko siya o hayaan siyang mag-isa.
“Do you remember the last thing Paul said to you?” tanong niya bigla, eyes on the dark skyline.
I froze.
He didn’t turn around.
“Sa’yo. Hindi sa’kin.”
Napakagat ako sa labi. “He said… ‘Don’t forget me.’”
Lucien nodded slowly. “He never said that to me.”
Tahimik ulit.
Then he exhaled smoke and whispered, “Maybe he already knew i would.”
The next day, we barely talked.
Naghiwalay kami ni Lucien sa lobby ng isang hotel na pansamantala niyang tutuluyan.
Ayaw na raw niyang umuwi sa bahay nila dito sa Manila—too many memories. Too many ghosts.
“Sigurado ka bang hindi ka na babalik sa ranch?” tanong ko, pilit ang lakas ng loob.
“I can’t,” sagot niya, eyes focused on the floor. “I see him everywhere.”
Humugot ako ng malalim na hininga. “Then… what now?”
“I’m going back to the States,” he said after a beat. “Pipilitin kong bitawan. Hindi ko na siya maibabalik, Aurora.”
Parang may pumutok sa dibdib ko.
I knew this was coming, pero iba pala ‘pag narinig mo nang diretso.
Lucien—leaving.
Lucien—letting go.
Lucien—choosing peace.
“Kahit pa paano… pwede ka pa rin maging trainer ko,” sabi ko, half-joking. Half-desperate. “Over Zoom. Ganon.”
Ngumiti siya. Malungkot. “Hindi ako para sa Zoom, Aurora.”
I laughed, kahit papaano. “Oo nga no. Wala ka sa vibes ng camera.”
“Wala rin ako sa vibes ng normal na buhay,” he added. “Pero susubukan ko.”
Tahimik kami ulit.
Then, slowly, he looked at me like he was memorizing my face.
Like i was the last chapter of a book he didn’t want to finish.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” he said.
“I walked in willingly.”
He nodded. “That’s what makes it worse.”
Hindi ko na siya sinagot.
Hindi na rin niya ako niyakap.
Wala nang dramatikong eksena.
Parang parehong napagod na lang kami sa lungkot.
So i watched him walk away.
One suitcase.
One broken man.
One chapter closed.
Pag-uwi ko sa unit, naabutan ko si Calix sa loob. He was sitting on the couch, drinking water, like nothing had happened.
Pero nakita ko agad.
His eyes were swollen.
His hands, fidgety. He cried. Maybe alone. Maybe in the car.
Maybe habang iniisip kung paano niya ako tutulungan kahit siya mismo was drowning too.
“Hey,” I whispered.
He looked up and stood immediately. “You okay?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “But i will be.”
He nodded and opened his arms.
Hindi ko na pinigilan ang sarili ko.
Lumapit ako sa kanya at niyakap siya ng mahigpit, parang sinasabi sa katawan ko na kahit papaano… meron pa ring safe space.
“Lucien’s leaving,” I whispered against his chest.
“I figured,” he said.
Silence.
Warmth.
Breath.
-
I started visiting the stable again. Started brushing the horses. Talking to them. Listening to their quiet.
Some days, Calix would join me.
Others, I would find him staring out the window with a blank look, then quickly smiling when he noticed me watching.
Alam kong pagod na rin siya.
Na apektado rin siya.
Na kahit hindi niya anak si Paul, nasaktan din siya. Kasi lahat kami, Lucien, Calix, ako—umasa sa isang milagro na hindi dumating.
Ang sakit.
Hindi dahil sa kamatayan.
Kundi dahil sa pag-asa.
Yung paasa.
Yung akala mo may sagot na.
Yung akala mo, may second chance.
But no.
The universe doesn’t work like that.
One night, habang magkausap kami ni Calix sa dining table, I asked him, “Do you think Lucien will be okay?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Then he said, “Eventually. Pero hindi ngayon.”
“I wish i could’ve done more.”
“You did,” he said, looking at me. “You gave him the chance to say goodbye.”
Sometimes, the people we lose… aren’t really gone.
They stay.
In our dreams.
In our memories.
In the people we once were when they were still here.
Paul will always be there.
Sa bawat araw na kakain ako ng ice cream.
Sa bawat kabayo na tatakbo sa bukirin.
Sa bawat pagkakataon na tatawa ako bigla kahit wala namang nakakatawa.
He lives in all those things.
Because love like that doesn’t die. It just… moves. Morphs. Finds a new place to bloom.
And maybe, someday, I’ll be able to plant new things again.
But not today.
Today, I grieve.
Today, I remember.
Today, I begin the slow process of moving on.
Even if I don’t know how yet.