Chapter 2

Rey Jhon shook Gabriella’s shoulder many times and continue trying to wake her up. He wanted to pour a cold water on her face to wake her up but how could he do that when they were inside the car?

He still couldn’t understand why he was in this kind of situation. He kept asking himself but he got no answer. At this hour, he should be sleeping peacefully, but instead he had become a driver for a drunk teenage girl.

He tried again to wake her up, but she only groaned and didn’t even bother to open her eyes. Her snore was even louder than his father. It was like her soul was still lost in dreamland maybe dreaming about a prince charming. He couldn’t help but smirk. If this shameless girl wasn’t asleep, he would have already pulled her hair and poured liquor directly on her face.

After giving him her address earlier, she suddenly passed out. Her sharp words were replaced by tiny snores. She thought he was planning to do something bad to her. What the heck? With his face? She thought he was a rapist?

What a pretty rapist I would be! He mumbled.

Here he was helping, and yet she was angry at him. She even hit him with a thick book. But what surprised him more was—why on earth was she carrying a book? He couldn’t believe she actually studied. And when he read the title of the book, he even smirk more. It was an erotic book. What a shame!

As he drove her car, he scolded himself in silence. Why was he even helping her? He couldn’t figure it out. He was looking for a reason yet he can’t find one. 

Here I am again, creating another mess, he whispered.

He almost forgot—this girl he saved and promised to take home safely was the same girl who had drained his friend Carlo’s GCash account. That was money he worked so hard for! The money he needed to pay his own tuition. If there was only a bottle inside the car, he might have hit her with it already.

Dios mio, Marimar! he thought. I should’ve just let you crash. Why would I even care if you die?

He tapped her face. No doubt, she was rich. Her skin was flawless like a porcelain. Maybe she was raised on milk baths.

Envy crept in his heart. He didn’t want to feel it, but he actually did. Sure, he was beautiful too.

But not as beautiful as her.

He had money, at least a little.

But not as rich as her.

He was smart.

Yes, that was the only thing he could be proud of.

“Excuse me, Ma’am Gab?”

He snapped back from his thoughts when a voice came from the car window. Someone had noticed their arrival. Of course—she was a Señorita, the daughter of Don Franco, the owner of the biggest sugar plantation in town. Again, envy stirred inside him.

Why was life so unfair? Why were some so rich, and others so poor? Why couldn’t everyone be equal?

“Ma’am Gab? Don Franco has been looking for you.”

Rey Jhon rolled down the window and was greeted by a uniformed security guard. His smile faded quickly when he realized it wasn’t Gabriella inside.

Surprised, huh? Rey Jhon thought.

“Who are you?” the guard asked.

Instead of answering, Rey Jhon stared at the mansion in front of him. Even if you multiplied his house ten times, it would never match this one.

So rich, yet she still stole from Carlo’s GCash. Ugh!

“Where’s Ma’am Gab?” the guard asked him again.

Rey Jhon forced a smile. He still remembered how to act, after all. Back in school, he was always the lead in plays.

“She’s inside the car. Didn’t you see?”

The guard ignored him and went straight to open the car door for Gabriella—who was dead drunk. Why even drink when you clearly couldn’t handle it?

Minutes passed, he followed them out of the car, already sick from the smell of her vomit. Gabriella threw up, and he almost did too.

“Who are you?”

A cold voice froze his whole body. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. His heart pounded hard.

“Are you my daughter’s boyfriend?”

Boyfriend? With my beauty? I am more gorgeous that your daughter, he thought.

Quickly, he shook his head and faced Don Franco. Just by looking at him, you’d know this man was powerful and rich. His clothes alone screamed money.

Life is so unfair.

“She’s not your girlfriend? Then why are you the one bringing her home?”

Why am I here again? he thought. I only wanted to help.

“Your daughter was very drunk, Don Franco,” he said, bowing his head. “I didn’t want her to drive—”

“What’s your name?”

“Rey Jhon Zialcita.”

The Don handed him a check. Rey Jhon froze. Was he paying him for helping his daughter?

“No need, sir,” he said, shaking his head quickly. “I only wanted to make sure she got home safe. I don’t need money for that.”

“I’m not giving this to you as payment.”

Rey Jhon’s face burned with shame. Why did I even assume that?

The Don’s next words stunned him.

“This will be your salary for the month. From now on, your job is to watch over my daughter.”

THE loud alarm from his phone cut off his dream. It had been the best dream of his life—he was rich, married to Carlo, and loved by him. But his mother’s shouting, louder than the alarm, forced him out of bed.

Dios mio, Marimar! I was about to eat hotdog in my dream, and it turned into stone!

Opening the door, he was greeted by more of his mother’s yelling, followed by banging sounds.

Papa didn’t come home again, he thought, rubbing his eyes.

He wanted to go back to sleep, but his mother’s nagging wouldn’t let him.

“What’s the problem now? Did Papa not come home again?” he asked with his eyes still closed.

But when he opened them, his father was right in front of him, glaring like a dragon ready to breathe fire. Before he could speak, a plate went flying—straight onto his father’s bald head. Now they were minus one plate at home.

“Where’s the money, Donald? Where’s yesterday’s earnings from the barbershop?” his mother yelled.

No rice again, Rey Jhon thought, scratching his head. He went back to his room.

He had spent Carlo’s payment on school fees and supplies. If he had known they’d run out of rice, he would have saved some.

“Kuya, do you have money? There’s no rice,” his sister Y’da Mae asked as she entered his room.

Of course, he had none. Every time this happened, his family turned to him. He sighed, wondering which store he would borrow from this time.

When he sat on the bed, he felt his wallet. Empty, as expected. Still, he opened it, just in case a miracle had happened.

And there it was—a piece of paper he didn’t remember picking up. He unfolded it and saw the name of Don Franco written on it, along with an amount: twenty thousand pesos.

It slipped from his hands as realization struck.

“A check,” he whispered.

“A check. So, it wasn’t a dream after all!”