CHAPTER THREE part II
1029 Words
continuation,
Diego's POV
The university library felt quieter than usual that afternoon, the kind of silence that didn't feel empty but intentional, as if even the air had been trained not to make unnecessary noise.
I was only there to borrow a Fil 102 reference book like nothing dramatic, nothing life-altering. Just another requirement, another academic task to get through before the day ended. I remember reaching for the book on the upper shelf, slightly stretching on my toes because someone had, for reasons unknown, returned it in the most inconvenient place possible.
When I finally pulled it free, something subtle caught my attention.
A scent.
Soft.
Light.
Almost floral.
Not the overpowering kind, nor something you immediately notice unless it brushes against you in passing and decides to stay for a second longer than it should.
I paused without meaning to.
It felt... familiar.
Not in a specific way and not in a memory I could clearly place. More like a feeling I had already experienced but couldn't quite retrieve.
I frowned slightly at myself, then shook it off as I made my way toward the circulation counter.
Probably just the library. Probably just someone nearby wearing perfume.
Still, it stayed with me longer than expected.
As I stepped out of the library afterward, the afternoon air outside felt slightly warmer, louder, more real. A group of my classmates from Multimedia Arts was gathered near the walkway leading to the lockers, still half-laughing over something from earlier.
"Pre, submission natin mamaya, 'di pa tapos 'yung layout," one of them was saying while scrolling through files on his phone.
"Relax ka lang. Kaya pa 'yan. Overnight exists for a reason," another replied, stretching his arms like the deadline wasn't slowly killing all of us equally.
"Multimedia Arts people really live dangerously," someone added, laughing.
I passed them with the book tucked under my arm, adjusting my grip slightly.
"Diego, duty ka sa café mamaya?" one of them called out as I neared the lockers.
"Yeah," I answered casually without stopping. "Three hangang closing."
"Solid. Ikaw na naman closing."
"Wala eh," I said lightly and firm, opening my locker. "Someone has to keep the café alive."
A few laughs followed behind me, but I was already turning away from them mentally.
I placed the Fil 102 book inside my locker and was about to close it when something slipped out from between its pages.
A thin sheet of paper fluttered down and landed softly on the floor.
I frowned slightly, crouching to pick it up.
At first, I thought it was just a bookmark or a stray note from the library copy.
But when I turned it over--
I stopped.
A galaxy sketch.
Messy but intentional, like someone had tried to recreate the night sky from memory instead of reference. Dark ink, uneven stars, a sense of softness that didn't quite match how carefully it had been drawn.
And beneath it, written in neat calligraphy: "Even lost stars still belong to the sky."
I stared at it longer than I should have. Something about it didn't feel random.
Then that scent came back again.
Soft. Floral.
Familiar in a way I still couldn't place properly, but now refused to ignore completely.
My grip tightened slightly around the paper and, without meaning to, a name surfaced in my mind.
Celeste.
I exhaled through my nose, almost laughing at myself.
"This is getting ridiculous," I muttered under my breath.
It wasn't just the scent anymore. It was the strange way she kept appearing in places where I least expected her.
The bookstore, the café, the library and random afternoons that somehow stayed in my memory longer than they should have. Small conversations that replayed themselves at inconvenient hours. Details I had never consciously decided to remember but somehow carried with me anyway.
Maybe that was the part that bothered me. Not the scent, not the paper and nor even the fact that I immediately thought of her.
It was how natural it felt. As if my mind had already connected the dots long before I noticed it was doing so.
People always talk about noticing when someone becomes important to you. They make it sound obvious, dramatic, impossible to miss.
But standing there in front of my locker, staring at a random piece of paper that smelled faintly familiar, I realized it probably happened the same way most things do.
Quietly and gradually like without permission. I looked down at the paper one last time. I didn't know what it meant.
Maybe nothing,
Maybe everything,
Still, I folded it carefully and slipped it inside my notebook before closing my locker. I didn't know why I kept it.
But I did.
The café was buzzing even before the event started. Strings of fairy lights lined the windows, may maliit na stage sa gilid na may mic stand at stool. Posters na ako mismo ang nag-design na nakadikit pa sa pintuan. I smiled to myself while to looking at the beautiful designs of the cafe.
Good Job, Diego.
Open Mic Night : Find Your Voice Under the Stars.
I adjusted the lights, sinisiguradong tama ang kulay at vibe. Being a Multimedia Arts student had its perks lahat ng design work at event visuals, sa kanya napupunta. At kahit hindi siya sanay magperform, sanay siyang gumawa ng atmosphere.
"Diego, ikaw na bahala sa sound check, ha?" tawag ng manager.
"Got it." I plugged in the mic, tapped twice, and spoke: "Testing, testing. Can anyone hear destiny?"
The cook at the back rolled his eyes. "Bro, ang corny mo."
I just laughed. Pero deep inside, medyo totoo. Simula nung bookstore incident at café sighting, hindi na ako matahimik.
She was there.
Twice, and maybe, hopefully maybe, she'd show up again.
I leaned against the counter, sipping my own iced Americano. The café filled slowly. Students, barkadas, random strangers.Every time the door opened, he looked up, half-hoping, half-dreading.
Sino ba ang hinihintay mo? I hissed to my thoughts.
"Pare," bulong ni Mike.
"Hanap ka ba ng customer o ng soulmate?"
"Pwede both?" sagot niya, half-joking, half-serious.
end of chapter three part 2
- Writer
