Counterpoint

Chapter Four

The weeks that followed passed more gently than Brianna expected. Vigan, which had once felt like exile, began to soften around the edges. The cobblestone streets no longer felt oppressive but alive, full of stories she had ignored for years. The clatter of horse carriages, the laughter spilling from the plazas, even the warm breeze that brushed her face in the afternoons, she began to notice them in a new light.

Her parents, Luke and Laurel Kim, had settled comfortably into their provincial routine. Their import and export business kept them busy, often at meetings with Roberto Saavedra and his people at the hacienda. They spoke often of contracts and harvests, of transport schedules and market prices, leaving Brianna to fill her days however she pleased.

She spent them, almost without fail, with Jenny.

Every afternoon, she found herself walking to the milk tea shop, not out of boredom anymore, but because she wanted to. What began as casual conversation had turned into an unlikely friendship. Brianna’s sharp edges met Jenny’s quiet steadiness, and somehow, they balanced. Jenny never treated her with the cautious reverence others did. She spoke plainly, laughed easily, and had a way of making even Brianna’s arrogance sound amusing rather than offensive.

One afternoon, as they shared their usual table by the window, Jenny said casually, “You’ve seen too much of this café. Why don’t you come to my house for dinner?”

Brianna looked up from her drink, startled. “Your house?”

Jenny smiled. “Yes. My parents would like to meet you. They keep asking who this mysterious friend is who orders milk tea every day like it’s her job.”

Brianna hesitated. The thought of stepping into someone else’s home, a simpler, humbler one, unsettled her. But Jenny’s tone was light and sincere, without pity or obligation. Against her better judgment, Brianna found herself nodding. “Fine,” she said, pretending indifference. “But only for a while.”

That evening, Manong Pedro drove her through the quieter outskirts of Vigan. The main streets gave way to narrow roads lined with banana trees and small houses painted in fading pastel colors. The scent of woodsmoke and fried garlic drifted through the air.

Jenny’s house stood modestly at the end of the lane. It had a small porch covered with flowering vines, a wooden gate, and a light glowing softly through lace curtains. It was nothing like Brianna’s world of glass and marble, yet it felt alive in a way her own house never did.

Jenny’s mother, a petite woman with kind eyes, opened the door. “You must be Brianna,” she said warmly. “Come in.”

Her father followed, tall and broad-shouldered, his skin bronzed from years in the fields. “Welcome to our home,” he said. “Jenny told us you’d come. It’s good to finally meet the young lady she talks about.”

Brianna smiled politely. “Thank you for having me.”

Inside, the space was small but tidy, filled with the scent of home-cooked food and the sound of the radio playing softly. On the wall hung family photographs, one of Jenny as a child, another of her parents standing proudly on a rice field, and a recent one of Jenny and a younger girl in their school uniforms from Ilocos Sur National High School.

Dinner was simple: adobo, pinakbet, and steaming rice served in mismatched bowls. Jenny’s mother fussed over her, urging her to eat more, while her father told lighthearted stories about his days working on the Saavedra plantations.

“Your father is well respected there,” he said to Brianna between bites. “Sir Luke treats people fairly. That’s not something you see often.”

Brianna nodded, trying to appear modest, though pride flickered in her eyes. “He values loyalty,” she said. “He always says business only works when everyone eats.”

Jenny smiled approvingly. “Wise words. I suppose that’s why my father speaks so highly of him.”

Her father chuckled. “Ah, but it’s not only Sir Luke. Don Roberto himself has great regard for your family. Even his son, Sir Santi, talks about how your father handles trade like a diplomat.”

Brianna smiled faintly. “Glad to know his business partners like him.”

Jenny laughed. “He’s well praised by the entire Saavedra household, to be honest.”

That caught Brianna’s attention. She rarely asked about her parents’ dealings and hardly cared about their business connections, but she had always heard the Saavedra name spoken with a certain weight. The Saavedras were the wealthiest family in Ilocos, practically royalty in the North. Yet she had never cared to know more about them, until now.

“So the Saavedras,” she said casually, “they seem to run this whole province, don’t they?”

Jenny’s father nodded.

“They practically do. They own the largest hacienda and thousands of hectares of rice fields. They also have tobacco plantations and control much of the local logistics industry. The Heritage Plaza Hotel in town belongs to them too. That’s where Jenny works,” a voice chimed in. Brianna turned to see a younger girl in a school uniform entering the room. “I’m Vanessa,” she said, smiling mischievously. “Jenny’s better-looking sister.”

Brianna smiled, her usual polite, restrained smile, but she liked her. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for the information about the family that basically employs everyone.”

Vanessa laughed. “You’re not wrong. Most people here work for the Saavedras in one way or another.”

Jenny nodded. “They own most of the commercial buildings in town too.”

Vanessa leaned on her chair. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been to one of their parties?”

“No,” Brianna replied simply. “And I’m not interested either.”

“You should go,” Vanessa teased. “The Saavedras throw the grandest parties in Vigan. You might even bump into their sort-of-celebrity son.”

Brianna raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“They have a son who works as an investigative journalist at Manila Standard Channel,” Vanessa said with a mischievous grin. “He’s the youngest and the most handsome of them all. But I think Jenny can tell you more about him.”

Jenny blushed instantly. “She’s joking,” she said quickly, shooting her sister a glare.

But Brianna noticed the slight tension in her friend’s posture, the way she avoided eye contact. Curiosity sparked.

“My dad mentioned they have three sons,” Brianna said in a measured tone. “Two help manage the company, right? So the youngest must be the journalist.”

Vanessa nodded eagerly. “Yes. Jordan Saavedra. He’s chosen a different path.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Brianna saw Jenny stiffen at the mention of his name.

Now this was interesting.

She leaned back in her chair, quietly observing her friend, a small smile forming at the edge of her lips. For someone so composed, Jenny seemed completely undone by the mention of one man.

And for the first time, Brianna wondered who Jordan Saavedra really was, and what he meant to Jenny.