Chapter 3

Hindi ko alam kung bakit hanggang ngayon, nasa isip ko pa rin yung guy na nakita ko. Anyway, it’s been days na nalibing na ang parents ko. Some of the visitors still want to stay here in this very huge mansion. Maganda nga yun para hindi ako mabigla na pagkatpos ng libing ay uuwi ako ditto ng sobrang tahimik at walang katao-tao, tanging mga maids na lang at ako.

Kanina pa ako nakahiga, nakatitig sa ceiling habang paulit-ulit kong binabalikan yung nangyari. Yung tingin niya. Yung way na parang may gusto siyang sabihin pero hindi niya masabi. And the weirdest part? I didn't even know who he was.

Or at least, akala ko hindi ko siya kilala.

I turned to my side and grabbed my phone from the bedside table. Tiningnan ko yung screen kahit wala naman akong hinihintay na message. Wala. Same old notifications. Nothing interesting.

I sighed and dropped the phone beside me. “Seriously, Serena?” Napailing ako sa sarili ko. “Bakit ba kasi iniisip ko pa siya?” Hindi naman siya gumawa ng kahit ano. Nagkatinginan lang kami. That's it. Pero ewan ko ba. May something sa presence niya na hindi ko maalis sa utak ko.

I sat up and looked around my room. Tahimik yung buong bahay. Since the funeral, parang lahat ng corners dito may bigat. Kahit yung room ko, na dati kong safe place, parang hindi na ganoon ka-familiar.

Napatingin ako sa maliit na cabinet sa gilid ng bookshelf. Maybe I just needed something else to think about. Tumayo ako at binuksan yung cabinet. May mga lumang albums doon, kasama ng ilang boxes na matagal ko nang hindi binubuksan. I pulled out one of the albums and placed it on my bed.

“Okay,” bulong ko habang binubuksan iyon. “Maybe this will distract me.” Hindi rin. The first few pages were just old family pictures. My parents. Relatives. Parties. Christmas dinners. Random vacations. I flipped through them without really paying attention. Until I stopped. There he was. A younger version of the guy I saw earlier. I stared at the picture.

“Wait…” I leaned closer. The picture showed a teenage boy standing beside my father. He looked younger, obviously, but the face was unmistakable. Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Those same eyes.

I felt my brows pull together. “Lucian?” The name slipped out before I even realized I knew it. I looked at the small handwritten note underneath the picture. Lucian, 16. I stared at it for a few seconds. Then everything slowly clicked. Oh. My. God. “Siya yun.”

Napaupo ako nang maayos. “That's Lucian?” I looked back at the photo. For some reason, ang weird ng feeling. Of course I knew the name. Lucian.

My parents used to talk about him. I had heard his name countless times when I was younger. But when I was seven, he left to study abroad, and after that, life happened. I grew up. He stayed away. We barely crossed paths anymore.

So how was I supposed to recognize him now? Especially when he looked nothing like the boy in my childhood memories. I stared at his picture again. He had changed so much. And apparently, so had I. I closed the album, but instead of putting it back, I kept holding it. My mind went back to the hallway. The way he looked at me. The way he didn't look away.

And suddenly, that whole moment felt different. “Grabe…” I rubbed my forehead. “So it was you.” I didn't know whether I felt relieved or more confused. Probably both. A few minutes later, I found myself walking out of my room. I didn't even have a reason. Maybe I wanted water. Maybe I wanted to breathe. Or maybe, deep down, I wanted to see him again.

The hallway was almost empty. I walked slowly, my fingers lightly brushing against the edge of the wall as I made my way downstairs. Then I saw him. He was standing near the tall windows at the end of the hall. Lucian. This time, I knew exactly who he was. He had his back partially turned toward me, one hand inside his pocket while the other held his phone. His posture was relaxed, but there was something controlled about the way he stood. He looked older up close. Way older.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed simply, but somehow everything about him looked expensive without trying. His dark hair was slightly messy, his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and his face carried that quiet, unreadable expression that made it hard to tell what he was thinking.

I stopped walking. He must have sensed me because he slowly turned. Our eyes met. Again. But this time, it felt different. Because now I knew his name.