FLOWER OF LOVE

“Flor! Wake up!”

Flora Amor bolted upright from bed, heart pounding. For a moment, she thought the house was on fire—her mother’s voice was that loud and urgent, echoing through their cramped home as she juggled her wailing six-month-old baby sister.

“Get up already! Your father’s waiting for me at the market!”

Her mother’s tirade was enough to rouse even Harold, Flora Amor’s younger brother by three years. He rubbed his eyes, stood, and obediently went to help.

Flora Amor sat still for a moment, her gaze lingering on her four other siblings, blissfully asleep despite the chaos. From the sala, she could hear her mother issuing orders to Harold.

“Buy twenty pesos’ worth of pandesal from Alexa. Give the change to your sister for her school allowance. Make sure your sisters bathe before the water runs out. And before you go to school, take the little ones to Mamay Elsa. Pick them up as soon as you get home, you understand?”

“Yes, Ma,” Harold answered politely.

Flora Amor’s eyes shifted to the wall clock. Four-thirty in the morning. No wonder the entire neighborhood could probably hear her mother’s voice.

“Flor!”

“I’m here, Ma!” she called back, finally getting up.

“You’re so lazy! You know I need to leave early and your father can’t handle the fish stall alone!” her mother scolded, pressing the baby into her arms.

“Ma, I need to do a project for English. I have to go to the computer shop for research,” Flora Amor tried to reason.

“Fine. Harold’s change is yours. That’s all.” Her mother’s voice softened only slightly.

“How much?”

“Thirty pesos. That’s all I have.”

“Ma, that’s barely enough for my allowance,” she protested.

“Borrow fifty from Mamay Elsa. Tell her I’ll pay her back when I get home.” With that, her mother swept out of the house.

“Ma!” Flora Amor groaned, her face already crumpled in frustration. Of all things, she hated borrowing money. But with seven mouths to feed, what choice did they have?

Her parents worked as fish vendors at the market. The little capital they used each day was borrowed from their landlady, Mamay Elsa, who not only lent them money without hesitation but also cared for the younger children and even bought milk for the baby. People like her were rare.

Once the baby was asleep again, Flora Amor laid her beside her siblings, then set water to boil in the kettle.

“Ate, here’s the pandesal,” Harold announced, dropping the bread on the table as she washed last night’s dishes.

She gave him a quick smile of acknowledgment. She never needed to tell Harold what to do—he was the most responsible among them. After buying bread, he roused the younger ones, prepared their breakfast, then hurried to the bathroom, hauling water for everyone’s bath before his own.

Flora Amor fed the three little ones herself.

She was in her second year of college, taking up a Bachelor of Commerce, major in Management. Harold was in third-year high school, Hanna in sixth grade, and Maureen in first grade. Lizzy, five, was supposed to start school, but their mother couldn’t afford the fees, so the girl stayed home to help Mamay Elsa watch the toddlers.

Life was hard, but somehow, their parents managed to keep them afloat with nothing but fish vending and borrowed capital.

.......................

“Flor!”

She had barely stepped into the Commerce Department lobby when her best friend’s voice rang out from their classroom door.

“Good morning, Beshie!” Flora Amor greeted, letting her friend sling an arm around her shoulders as they entered.

“Look who’s here! A gold-digger bitch.”

Flora Amor frowned. That voice belonged to Phoebe, daughter of the school dean. She assumed Phoebe meant Megan, one of their brightest classmates, who had entered alongside her and Anton.

“Hey, I heard their family are pushers,” Phoebe’s sidekick Elisse chimed in, her tone laced with venom.

Anton, already draping his arm around Flora Amor as they walked to their seats, leaned close. “You know what—”

“Another rumor? Honestly, for a guy, you gossip too much,” Flora Amor teased.

“This isn’t gossip.” He chuckled.

“See? That bitch. Such a flirt.” Phoebe’s eyes were daggers now—and, to Flora Amor’s shock, aimed at her.

She managed an awkward smile, but Phoebe rewarded it with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

Shrugging it off, Flora Amor busied herself pulling out her notebook.

“Dad wants you at his birthday party next Friday. Just at the house,” Anton said casually.

She ignored him, pretending to focus on her notes.

“Well?” he pressed.

“You know my mother doesn’t allow that sort of thing,” she casually replied.

“She already agreed. Even told me to get you something to wear. Your dress is hanging in my closet.”

“What?!” Flora Amor shot up from her seat, appalled.

Anton grabbed her arm and pulled her down, grinning.

“You bribed my mom again, didn’t you? When did you two even talk?”

“Shhh” He glanced around. Luckily, their classmates were too wrapped up in chatter to notice—except Phoebe’s gang, who stared like hungry wolves.

Anton had been her best friend since high school. They met in the most humiliating way: he pulled her chair out when she returned from solving a math problem on the board, making her crash to the floor. Everyone laughed—until she punched him square in the face. Blood poured from his nose, yet instead of anger, he grinned and said, “Strong punch! Are you an A****n?”

That was how their unlikely friendship began.

Now, years later, his constant affection—hand-holding, arms around her shoulders—meant nothing to her but friendship. To her, he was a protector and confidant. Nothing more.

“Slut. GRRR!” growled a voice from behind her.

She frowned, confused at Phoebe’s behavior. Phoebe wasn’t like this before—unless she was just imagining it, thinking the girl’s words were meant for her.

“Beshie, Phoebe’s your girlfriend, right?” she turned to Anton.

The young man looked at her, his expression suddenly serious as he sat up straight.

“Yes. For two days now,” he answered quietly.

“What two days? Just an hour! You dumped her as soon as you found out she was juggling multiple boyfriends!” Mariel, their friend who had just taken the seat beside Anton, cut in loudly.

“Hey, shut up!” Anton scolded, his brows knitting.

Mariel only rolled her eyes.

“Ah, so that’s why Phoebe was glaring at me like she wanted to swallow me whole,” she said with a nervous giggle.

To be fair, Anton and Phoebe really looked good together—both came from wealthy families, both were smart, handsome and beautiful. A perfect match.

“So many girls out there, but you had to chase her,” Mariel muttered under her breath.

“And what about you? You’re a girl? Since when?” Anton shot back, laughing.

“Tsk. You’re such a pest!” Mariel snapped in annoyance.

“You’re so moody, bro. Are you on your period?” Anton teased Mariel again, laughing harder.

“Shut up!” Mariel smacked him on the arm.

Their bickering only stopped when their female professor walked into the room.

“Beshie, if you already broke up with her, then why does she seem mad at me?” Flora Amor whispered curiously, eyes fixed on the professor, pretending to listen.

“I told her you’re my original girlfriend,” Anton replied casually.

Her jaw dropped. In frustration, she smacked him hard with her notebook.

“You’re insane!” she hissed, pretending to be annoyed, though a smile tugged at her lips.

Honestly, if they weren’t such close friends—and if she wasn’t used to his clinginess—she might have believed he had feelings for her. But for some strange reason, everything he did felt harmless to her.

She didn’t even mind if they held hands all day or if he had his arm around her. To her, Anton was her protector, her best friend. Period.

“Beshie, wait for me at the covered walk near the gate later, before dismissal,” Anton said suddenly.

“Huh? Why?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Just wait.” He didn’t explain further.

.......….................

Four o'clock that afternoon. Anton had told her to wait at the covered walk near the gate, but he was still nowhere to be seen.

She waited for several more minutes. Growing impatient, she stepped outside the gate, thinking maybe he was already there. But with the swarm of students leaving, there was no sign of him.

“That pest! Making me wait like this…” she muttered.

She went back inside the gate, thinking maybe he was on his way or hanging around near their department. She walked back, but still, no Anton in sight.

Annoyed, she leaned against a parked Hyundai in front of their building—then quickly straightened when she realized someone might be inside. She backed away, staring at the shiny tinted window that reflected her face like a mirror.

No honk. No movement. Maybe it was empty.

Curious, she stepped closer, pulled out her comb, and tied her hair neatly. She kept glancing around in case the owner showed up—or worse, Anton.

When she was done fixing her hair, she took out Johnson’s baby powder and dabbed some on her face. Still no sign of Anton.

With a frustrated sigh, she bit her lip, then licked them to moisten and bit again to give them a natural red tint. She cupped her hand over her mouth, exhaled, and sniffed to check her breath. Satisfied, she grinned at her reflection, then pressed a playful kiss on the car’s tinted glass.

She was in the middle of it when the car door suddenly opened.

Out stepped a tall man wearing sunglasses.

She froze, stunned, eyes locked on the stranger. She could’ve sworn the car was empty!

What should she do? Run? Stand tall and act mad? But why would she be mad?

“Are you done staring at me?” the man’s voice cut through her panic.

“Huh?”

She snapped back to her senses, mustered every ounce of courage, straightened her posture, and blurted out with a polite smile:

“Good afternoon, sir!”

“Flor! Flora Amor!”

Anton’s voice rang out, loud and clear. She barely heard it over the noise, but she turned instinctively.

Saved by the bell!

She bolted, running toward her friend, away from the stranger.

“Hmm… Flora Amor,” the man whispered, recalling what had just happened. He smiled… then laughed.

Another man leaned out from the car.

“Bro, what's got you smirking?” he teased.

“Shut up!”

Flora Amor rained blows from her bag onto Anton, who kept dodging, laughing all the while.

“You jerk! This is all your fault! You told me to wait at the covered walk but you didn’t even show up! I embarrassed myself in front of that arrogant old man because of you!” she cried, nearly in tears as she kept smacking him.

“Sorry, my fault!” Anton chuckled, shielding himself until he caught her hand. He threw an arm around her shoulders and started leading her away—but his narrowed eyes flicked back to the man still standing by the car.

Even as shame burned through her, something strange pulled Flora Amor to look back at the stranger.

“Huh?”

Was he watching them? Why did it feel like his gaze was locked on her?

Suddenly, she slipped out of Anton’s arm—as if she were guilty of something.

Guilty? Of what?

She glanced back again, cheeks burning. Did he just… call her?

“Amor?”

Her skin prickled. Heart racing, she quickened her steps, refusing to look back again.