Taxi Kita Bersama Novels & Stories

After the evening study session, I was just about to return to the dorm when my first boyfriend, the school's valedictorian and undisputed top student, suddenly tore across the courtyard toward me. Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist and, in full view of a crowd of stunned students, dragged me into a frantic run toward the front gates. I exclaimed, "Julian, have you lost your mind? Graduation's six months away. Are you really trying to run off with me now?" I struggled the whole way, twisting and pulling against him, but his grip never loosened. "Autumn, don't ask any questions. Just come with me. Hurry!" he said, his voice trembling with panic. We fled the school, jumped into a taxi in the middle of the night, and rushed to another city, where we checked into a rundown budget motel. Arms folded and brow furrowed, I glared at him. "So you hauled me out of school like a lunatic just to hole up in a cheap motel?" His cheeks turned bright red. He flailed his hands in frantic denial, then thrust a phone into my hands. I barely had time to unlock the phone and start dialing my parents before a breaking news alert flashed across the screen. My eyes locked on the screen, and I went rigid with shock. The headline reported, 'Mass Death at Blackwood High: All 5,000 students and faculty found dead last night after experiencing catastrophic bleeding. Only two students who skipped the study session survived.' I looked up at Julian in horror. He was staring at the screen too, his face white as paper, cold sweat running down his forehead. "You knew, didn't you?" I asked. "What the hell is going on?"

Bianca is dying. Acute myeloid leukemia, stage three. The family doctor told me on the phone—bone marrow transplant, only option, perfect match. Identical twins share ninety-nine percent compatibility. I crushed the diagnosis report. My name was at the top: Gemma Blackwell. But the doctor trembled, whispering apologies. A clerical error. The sick twin was Bianca. The cure was me. I had to get home. Rain lashed the taxi windows. I rehearsed the scene: Father setting down his cigar, Mother gasping, me explaining the mix-up. The report has my name, but the blood work is Bianca's. I can fix this before it's too late. My phone lit up. Family group chat. Father's message was short: [Gemma is terminal. Bianca forbidden from donation. Family decision.] My blood turned to ice. They had seen the misdelivered file. They thought I was the one dying—and they had voted to let me rot. When I pushed open the door and saw Father, I felt it— the temperature drop, the world freezing around me. Tears burned my eyes. I couldn't stop them. "Father," I said, my voice barely steady. "I have a question for you." He looked up from his cigar, annoyed. "If it were Bianca dying," I whispered. "Would you have made me give her my marrow?" The room went silent. He set down the cigar. A long pause. "No," he said finally. "Of course. We have resources. We would find another donor. We would never ask you to take that risk." I smiled a little. Just a small, sad smile. "Good," I said softly. "That's exactly what you said. Don't regret this."

How can a love be so patient but suddenly lose its will when the right time finally comes? “G-gusto kita, Jeo!” “Higit pa nga yata don. H-hindi ba pwedeng kahit s-subukan mo? Kahit ngayon lang iparanas mo naman sakin na akin ka,” nagmamakaawa kong bulong. Walang kaalam alam ang lahat na kasal na ang poging CEO na si Jeo sa nag-iisang sekretarya nitong si Ysobelle. Isang taon— isang taon ang hinintay ni Ysobelle pero si Kaela pa rin ang minamahal nito. Dito na tuluyang napagod si Ysobelle, umalis siya ng walang paalam at ang tanging iniwan sa asawa ay kapirasong papel ng divorce paper na may pirm niya. Simula ng umalis sa poder ni Jeo ay sinimulan niya ang pagdiskubre sa magagandang tanawin sa Pilipinas. Ngunit napadpad siya sa Palawan, sa lugar na ito nagtagal si Ysobelle dahil sa ganda ng mga tanawin. Ngunit masyadong mapaglaro ang tadhana, ang pamilyang napamahal na sa kanya puso ay ang pamilya rin ng dati niyang asawa. Ito na ba marka ng tuluyan nilang paghihiwalay? O ito na ang magiging simula ng pag-usbong ng pagmamahalan nilang dalawa. Can love really bloom from a man’s broken heart and a woman’s pierced heart? Or will waves keep on pushing them apart?