Counterpoint

Chapter Two

Two Years Ago

Brianna had been in the Philippines for only five days, yet it already felt like an eternity. The heat wrapped around her like a heavy blanket, sticky and relentless. She longed for Vancouver, for the cold air, clean streets, and her grandmother’s quiet, predictable home. She had lived there since she was twelve, sent away by her parents to “focus on her studies.” In truth, she had grown accustomed to her Canadian life. The Philippines, by comparison, felt chaotic.

Every summer, she was required to return to Vigan. Her parents insisted. She considered it a chore. The country felt too hot, too loud, and too inconvenient. Still, she had no choice but to endure the annual visit.

Her driver guided the car along a narrow street lined with old colonial houses. Brianna sighed as the sunlight flickered through the trees. Then she noticed a newly opened milk tea shop attached to a boutique hotel styled after a heritage mansion. Finally, something civilized.

“Manong, stop here. I’m getting milk tea. Wait for me,” she instructed as she unfastened her seatbelt.

Commanding people came naturally to her. Her father, a Korean businessman, had built a successful import and export company, while her mother came from a wealthy Filipino-Canadian family from the North. Brianna never worried about tuition, bills, or money. The world simply adjusted around her.

Manong Pedro stepped out and opened the door. Brianna gave a small nod before entering the shop.

Inside, the place was beautifully curated. Wooden beams, capiz windows, and a menu filled with creative desserts: pistachio suman, ube macarons, and several specialty milk teas. She noticed a group of local students in one corner whispering while glancing her way. She assumed they were admiring her, which, to her mind, was only natural. With her fair skin and mixed Filipino, Caucasian, and Korean features, she stood out without trying.

She raised her brows slightly at their stares, then dismissed them.

Ahead of her, a young couple debated their order far too long. Brianna shifted her weight from one foot to the other, irritation rising. The girl changed her mind for the third time. Brianna exhaled sharply.

“Shouldn’t you have decided what to order before lining up?” she asked, unable to restrain herself.

The girl turned, clearly offended. “We’re customers. We’re always right.”

“I’m a customer too,” Brianna replied coolly, glancing at her watch. “And I’ve been waiting for eleven minutes. At this rate, I could have ordered twice.”

The boyfriend intervened before an argument broke out. “We’re sorry. You may go ahead.”

At least one of them had sense. Brianna offered no thanks.

“One large pearl milk tea. Extra ice. Minimal sugar. For Brianna,” she said crisply.

The cashier entered her order with unusual speed. “Please move to the right for pickup.”

“I’ll be sitting at that corner table,” she said, gesturing to a small table by the wall. “You can bring it there.”

The cashier blinked, unsure how to respond. The girlfriend’s glare could have cut glass. Before the tension grew further, a young woman approached. She wore the same uniform but carried herself differently, poised, self-assured, and with a smile that reached her eyes.

“Certainly. We’ll bring your drink to your table,” she said, glancing at the cup. “Brianna.”

At least someone here understood proper service, Brianna thought.

She sat at the table, scrolling through her phone. A message popped up from Toby, her closest friend in Vancouver.

Toby: I miss you. Come back already.Brianna rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips.Brianna: I will in three weeks. This vacation is exhausting.

His reply came almost immediately.Toby: Wesley keeps asking about you. He’s still hoping you’ll finally say yes to him.

Brianna frowned. Wesley had been chasing her since last year. He was harmless but painfully persistent.Brianna: Let him wait. I’m busy trying to survive this place.

A shadow fell across her table. She looked up.

It was the barista, the same young woman. She set the milk tea in front of Brianna.“I’m Jenny,” she said politely. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”

Brianna gave a short nod, prepared to dismiss her, but the girl still stood there, calm and composed. Brianna slowly raised her eyebrows, signaling that Jenny had overstayed her welcome.

“I’ll call you if I need anything else, Jenny,” Brianna said, emphasizing her name as if to remind her of her place.

Jenny only laughed softly, unbothered. “Of course.”

She lingered a moment longer, eyes bright and observant. “It’s rare to see someone from abroad here during the hot season,” she said conversationally. “Most visitors come during the holidays.”

Brianna narrowed her eyes. Small talk was not something she entertained willingly. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be here,” she replied, her tone clipped.

Jenny turned slightly toward her, still smiling. “It must be tiring,” she said, her tone kind and genuine.

“I manage,” Brianna answered, sounding as if she carried the weight of the world instead of a vacation.

Jenny looked amused but did not press. “Have you tried the local empanadas? They’re best when the weather is this warm.”

“No,” Brianna replied flatly. “Fried street food is not something I usually eat.”

Jenny smiled again, though there was a flicker of humor in her eyes, as if she found Brianna’s remark more amusing than rude. Brianna glanced around. There was no one else to talk to, and she supposed conversation might make the time pass.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing at the chair across from her.

Jenny’s smile widened as she took the seat. “Your parents talk about you a lot,” she said after a brief pause.

Brianna stiffened. Suspicion ran through her like ice. “What do you mean? What do you know about my parents?”

Jenny sat up a little straighter, her posture respectful but confident. “Mr. Luke and Ms. Laurel. They work with the Saavedras for their rice export business. My father is one of the senior farmers with the Saavedras, and I often go with him to the hacienda when I have free time. I’ve met your parents several times. They’re good people.”

Brianna’s eyebrows arched higher. “Of course they are good people,” she said matter-of-factly. “They contribute to the local economy and employ many.”

Jenny chuckled softly. “Ms. Laurel often speaks to me. She once said I reminded her of you.”

Brianna blinked, caught off guard. That was news to her. She had never cared much for her parents’ local affairs and found the idea unsettling. Her suspicion shifted to discomfort. She did not enjoy being known by someone she didn’t know herself.

“Good to know they remember me through other people,” she said, her tone guarded.

Jenny shook her head gently. “She spoke very highly of you. She said you were making your mark in Canada. She seemed proud.”

Brianna was silent. She was used to hearing praise, but from her parents, such words were rare. Hearing them from a stranger felt strangely intimate, almost exposing.

She looked down at her untouched milk tea. No one in Vigan had ever spoken to her like that, not cautiously, not fearfully, but sincerely.

She lifted her chin, regaining her composure. “I appreciate the information,” she said, her tone returning to formality.

Jenny seemed to understand. She rose from her seat with a polite nod. “If you need anything, I’ll be nearby. Enjoy your drink, Brianna.”

She walked away, unhurried and graceful.

Brianna watched her go, unsettled by how easily Jenny had slipped past her indifference. For the first time since she had arrived, she felt the tension in her chest ease, just slightly.

She reached for her phone again, intending to text Toby about how ridiculous this place was. Yet her fingers hesitated above the screen.

Brianna took a small sip of her milk tea. It was unexpectedly good.

And for the first time since she arrived, she felt something she had never associated with Vigan.

Curiosity.