Chapter- 3 Rain In Sto. Domingo
1086 Words
The rain wasn't just falling; it was an ocean falling from the sky.
I was working the night shift as a volunteer first-responder for the local red cross. My boots were covered in mud, my orange vest soaked. The highway was a graveyard of twisted metal and shattered glass.
"Elena! We need a medic over here! The driver is pinned!"
I grabbed my trauma kit and ran. My heart was a frantic bird in my chest, but my hands were steady. I had to be. My life was no longer about letters or candy wrappers—it was about survival.
I crawled into the wreckage of a black SUV. The smell of gasoline and expensive leather filled my nose.
"Sir? Can you hear me?" I yelled over the roar of the storm.
The man in the driver's seat groaned. His face was covered in blood, his charcoal suit jacket torn. I reached out to check his pulse, my fingers trembling slightly from the cold.
As I wiped the blood from his forehead with a sterile gauze, my breath hitched.
No. Not like this.
It was him. But the "Prince" was broken.
"Nicko? Nicko, wake up!" I shook him, my professional mask shattering into a million pieces.
His eyes fluttered open. For a second, they were glazed, lost in the pain. Then, they focused. He saw the orange vest. He saw the mud on my face. He saw the girl who had disappeared into the rain five months ago.
"Elena..." he rasped, a ghost of a smile touching his bloodied lips. "You... you always show up when it's raining."
"Shut up, Nicko! Don't talk. You have a head injury."
"I thought... I’d never see you again," he choked out, his hand reaching out, weakly grasping the sleeve of my vest. "I looked everywhere... Sto. Domingo is too big when you're hiding from me."
The sound of a siren wailed in the distance. The rescue team was arriving with the jaws of life.
"I'm not hiding anymore," I whispered, pressing a bandage to his wound. "But you’re not buying me this time, Nicko. I’m the one saving you."
He gripped my hand, his strength surprising me.
"Then save me, Elena. Not just from the car... save me from the story I’m stuck in."
The rain pounded on the roof of the crushed car, creating a private, dark world for just the two of us. This wasn't a school campus. This wasn't a library. This was the edge of life and death.
"Elena! We’re cutting the door! Get out of there!" the captain yelled.
I looked at Nicko one last time before backing out.
"This is just the beginning, Nicko Alcasid," I said, my voice finally firm. "And this time, I’m the one holding the pen."
As they pulled him from the wreckage, a silver pendant fell from his pocket into the mud. I picked it up.
It was a locket. Inside was a tiny, dried-up piece of a White Rabbit candy wrapper and a photo of an 8-year-old girl with pigtails.
He never stopped. And now, I can't stop either.
The VIP suite was silent, except for the steady beep... beep... of the heart monitor. Nicko lay there, bandages wrapped around his head, looking less like a CEO and more like the vulnerable boy I once knew.
I was checking his IV drip when I saw it. On the bedside table, next to his phone, was a piece of stationery. It was thick, cream-colored, and had a very specific crest at the top.
I know this paper.
"You're awake," I said, my voice professional but soft as his eyes slowly opened.
"Elena..." He rasped, his voice dry. He reached out for the water, but his hand was shaking. I helped him, holding the straw to his lips. Our eyes locked over the glass.
"Thank you," he whispered. "For saving me. Again."
"It's my job, Nicko. I'm a medic. I would have done it for anyone."
Liar. My heart was screaming the word.
"I saw the paper on the table," I said, pointing to the stationery. "The handwriting... it's very distinct. Bold, but with a slight slant to the left."
Nicko froze. The monitor spiked—beep-beep-beep-beep.
"I've seen that handwriting before. Every month for the last three years. The letters sent to my Lola's house. The ones signed 'A Friend'."
I pulled a crumpled envelope from my pocket—one I had kept for luck. I laid it next to his notepad. The handwriting was identical.
"Ikaw 'yun, 'di ba?" My voice was trembling now. "The person who encouraged me to apply for the scholarship. The person who sent the money for Lola’s first surgery when we were about to lose her. It was you the whole time."
Nicko looked at the ceiling, a long, weary sigh escaping his lips.
"I didn't want you to know. I wanted you to succeed because you're Elena Magdallena, not because you're 'indebted' to me."
"Why, Nicko? Why go through all this trouble for a girl who didn't even remember your face?"
He turned his head to look at me, his eyes dark with a decade's worth of unspoken words.
"Because you were the only person who ever looked at me and didn't see an Alcasid. You saw a boy who was hurting." He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of my sleeve. "I didn't just recognize you at the highway, Elena. I've been following your footsteps since we were eight. We didn't just 'meet' again. I never actually left."
My head was spinning. The scholarship, the letters, the 'random' meeting at the school... it wasn't fate. It was him.
"You're my childhood friend," I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "The boy under the Narra tree. The one who promised to find me."
"I kept my promise, Elena. Even if you forgot yours."
Just then, the door burst open. It was a nurse, looking frantic.
"Ms. Magdallena! Your Lola... she just had a seizure. She's calling for someone named 'Nicko'."
I looked at Nicko. He was already trying to sit up, ignoring the pain, ignoring the IV.
"She remembers," he whispered. "She's the only one who never forgot."
- Writer
