Her Obsession

Chapter 2

She must have misunderstood. It seemed she thought I was planning to end my life. I couldn’t help but smile at my aunt’s words—it was clear how deeply she loved me. So I set aside what I was doing, turned to face her with a gentle smile, and looked straight into her eyes.

“Auntie, I have no intention of doing that. I’m packing because I’m leaving for Manila. I want to start a new life—and I’m going to look for my father,” I said seriously.

“You… you’re going to look for your father?” she asked, her voice trembling. It made me think that Auntie was hiding something, but I chose not to dwell on it any further.

“If you’re thinking of stopping me, please don’t—”

“I know you won’t listen even if I try. I’m not your mother, hijo, so I won’t stand in your way. All I ask is that you take care of yourself out there,” she said softly.

Aunt Milda and Uncle Ronald accompanied me to the bus station. I said a brief goodbye before boarding. As the bus rolled away, I kept thinking about what kind of job I could find once I reached Manila. Eventually, I fell asleep with those thoughts.

I woke up when my stomach growled. We were still on the road. Manila was far from our province. I looked out the window—the sun told me it was only around three in the afternoon.

Soon, the bus stopped at a gas station for a short break. Vendors climbed aboard to sell food. I checked what they had, but I didn’t feel like eating a burger, so I bought a siopao and a bottle of water instead.

When the bus started moving again, I ate quietly. Then I felt someone staring at me. I turned and saw a child watching my food.

When he realized I was looking back, he met my gaze. His innocence made me smile.

“Do you want some?” I asked. His mother was asleep, so I felt free to talk to him.

The child shifted slightly, and I quickly stood to lift him up—afraid he might fall. Since he was just across the aisle, it was easy to reach him. I sat back down and fed him pieces of siopao, which he happily ate.

“Is it good?” I asked, watching him nod with delight.

“You’re so cute,” a woman beside me suddenly said. I turned to her as she gently pinched the child’s cheek. The boy smiled at her, and she smiled back.

Her smile—it was radiant, like a goddess sent down from heaven.

“Hey, that’s my child!” his mother exclaimed, waking up.

“Oh, yes, of course. I only fed him siopao because he asked, and you were asleep. I picked him up so he wouldn’t fall,” I explained quickly. She understood, took her child, and thanked me.

“I wish I had a child like him someday,” the woman beside me said. I couldn’t help but glance at her in disbelief.

Seriously? She looked so young, yet she was already thinking about children. Did she even know how hard it is to raise one?

She adjusted her seat and put on her earphones. I studied her from head to toe—she looked wealthy, like someone not used to commuting.

“Stop staring at me like that,” she said suddenly. I quickly looked away.

She wore shades, so I couldn’t see her face clearly, but it was obvious she was beautiful.

“I’m Lily,” she said, introducing herself and extending her hand. I just looked at her hand, then at her. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to introduce myself—it just felt strange. She also seemed oddly familiar.

“Have I seen you before?” I asked. She froze for a moment, then withdrew her hand and lowered her head. I noticed her shoulders moving slightly—she was laughing quietly.

Was she crazy? If she was, I’d personally escort her to the mental hospital.

She lifted her face, and her expression changed instantly. Her laughter was gone, replaced by seriousness. I instinctively leaned away, afraid she might actually be unstable.

“If you’re thinking I’m crazy, please stop. I’m not. I just can’t believe… that you recognized me,” she said.

I frowned, confused.

She noticed my reaction and spoke again, this time in Tagalog: “What I meant was, if you think I’m crazy, stop. I’m not. I just didn’t expect you to recognize me, since we only met at the café.”

“So you’re the woman who was staring at me in the shop?” I asked. Her brows furrowed, as if she didn’t like the way I phrased it.

“Yes, that was me,” she admitted, then looked away. Something seemed to trouble her.

“What do you want? Why were you watching me even after I left the shop?” I asked. She didn’t answer.

Instead, I heard the soft sound of her breathing—she had fallen asleep. She looked utterly exhausted.

The bus hummed steadily beneath me, but my restlessness refused to quiet. I shifted in my seat, unable to explain the unease gnawing at me. Then, without warning, a gentle weight pressed against my shoulder.

I turned, startled, and found Lily leaning against me. Her shades had slipped halfway down her face, revealing the delicate curve of her lashes. I thought of removing them, but she stirred faintly, and I froze. Manila was still hours away. With a sigh, I let her rest and

closed my eyes, surrendering to the rhythm of the road.

Sleep came in fragments. I woke when I felt her shifting, her head slipping as though she couldn’t find comfort. Carefully, I lifted her, adjusted my bag into a makeshift pillow, and laid her head upon it. My hand brushed lightly against her hair, smoothing it back.

The tension in her brow melted, her breathing deepened, and for the first time she looked at peace.