Chapter 2

Daisy

The jeepney rattled and swayed, a metal box carrying me further into an unknown future. The city lights blurred into streaks of color, each one a fading memory of the life I was leaving behind. 

My heart still pounded against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Augustus Caesar’s smile, that cold, predatory curve of his lips, was burned into my mind. 

He knew. He had let me go. But why? The question echoed in the confines of the noisy jeepney, a chilling melody that promised more trouble.

I clutched my backpack tighter, my knuckles white. Inside, my meager savings felt like a joke against the fortune he commanded. But it was all I had, all I could rely on. 

I was Daisy, a simple girl from a sari-sari store, and I was running from a man who could buy and sell cities. The absurdity of it all almost made me laugh, but the fear was too potent, too real.

The jeepney dropped me off at a crowded bus terminal. The air was thick with exhaust fumes and the chatter of a thousand voices. 

People hurried past, their faces a blur of indifference. I was just another face in the crowd, another soul trying to escape or find something. 

I bought a ticket to a small town in Quezon province, a place I’d only ever seen on a map. It was far, isolated, and hopefully, safe.

The bus ride was long and uncomfortable. I tried to sleep, but every bump, every creak of the old vehicle, jolted me awake. 

My mind raced, replaying the last few days, trying to find a clue, a sign I had missed. How could I have been so blind? 

How could I have fallen for such a grand deception? Gus, the gentle artist, the kind man who helped Aling Nena, was a carefully constructed lie. A bait, perhaps, to reel in a simple girl like me.

A wave of nausea washed over me. I pressed a hand to my stomach, a familiar ache blooming there. My baby. Our baby. The thought brought a fresh surge of fear, but also a fierce, protective love. I would do anything for this child, anything to keep him or her safe from the monster who was its father.

The bus finally pulled into the sleepy town of San Isidro as the sun began to peek over the horizon. The air was fresh and cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming sampaguita. 

It was a stark contrast to the humid, exhaust-filled air of Manila. The town was small, with only a few buildings clustered around a quaint town plaza. Life here seemed to move at a slower, more peaceful pace.

I found a small, dusty inn near the bus stop. The landlady, a kind-faced woman with laugh lines around her eyes, gave me a small room on the second floor. 

It was simple, with a worn bed and a single window overlooking a quiet street. But it was a sanctuary, a temporary haven from the storm I had fled.

For the next few days, I lived in a haze of fear and exhaustion. I hardly dared to leave my room, venturing out only for food and water. I ate instant noodles and crackers, my appetite dulled by anxiety. 

Every shadow seemed to hold his presence, every distant car horn sounded like his sleek black vehicle. I was constantly looking over my shoulder, my heart leaping at every unexpected sound.

One afternoon, as I was trying to read a tattered magazine, there was a gentle knock on my door. 

My heart hammered against my ribs. He had found me. The thought paralyzed me. I held my breath, waiting.

The knock came again, a little louder this time. “Miss? Are you alright in there? You haven’t eaten much.” It was the landlady’s voice, kind and concerned.

I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Yes, I’m fine, Ma’am,” I called out, my voice a little hoarse. “Just… resting.”

She paused for a moment. “Well, I made some sinigang for dinner. You should come down and eat. It’ll do you good.”

Sinigang. The smell of sour soup, a comfort food from home, wafted through the thin door. It was a small gesture, but it brought a lump to my throat. I was alone, vulnerable, but not entirely forgotten.

I slowly opened the door. The landlady smiled warmly at me. “Come, join us. You look like you could use some company.”

Hesitantly, I followed her down to the small dining area. Her family was already seated around a wooden table, laughing and chatting. They welcomed me with warm smiles and an offer of food. 

It felt strange, almost foreign, to be among people who didn’t know my secret, who didn’t know the dark cloud hanging over me.

As I ate the delicious sinigang, the warmth spreading through me, I realized something important. I couldn’t hide forever. Running was a temporary solution. I needed a plan. I needed to build a new life, a safe haven for my child.

I decided to start looking for work the next day. San Isidro was a small town, but there were always opportunities. I had a good head for numbers, and I was a hard worker. I could find something, anything, to support myself and my baby.

The next morning, I dressed in my cleanest clothes and ventured out. The town was still quiet, the air fresh with the promise of a new day. 

I walked past small shops and houses, each one a testament to a simple, honest life. This was the kind of life I wanted for my child. A life far away from the gilded cages and ruthless games of Augustus Caesar.

I stopped at a small bakeshop, the aroma of freshly baked pandesal wafting out onto the street. A “Help Wanted” sign was taped to the glass door. My heart gave a little leap of hope. This could be it. A chance to start fresh.

As I pushed open the door, a small bell jingled, announcing my arrival. A woman with flour dusted on her apron looked up, a friendly smile on her face. “Good morning, hija. What can I do for you?”

“Good morning, Ma’am,” I replied, my voice a little shaky but determined. “I saw your sign. I’m looking for work.”

Her smile widened. “Well, come on in. Let’s talk.”

As I sat across from her, explaining my desire for work, a tiny seed of hope began to sprout in my heart. This was it.

My new beginning. But even as I smiled and answered her questions, Augustus Caesar’s face, that knowing, predatory smile, flashed in my mind. 

He had let me go, but for how long? And what was he planning? The questions lingered, a dark promise of an inevitable confrontation. 

I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that this wasn’t over. My escape was just the first move in a much larger, much more dangerous game. And I had to be ready.