CHAPTER ONE - THE RANCH
1136 Words
Lipa smelled different from Manila.
Mara noticed it the moment she stepped out of the car.
The air felt wider here, as if there was more of it to breathe. It was cooler, carrying the scent of wet grass, trees, and earth still dark from the afternoon rain. There was no endless rush of vehicles, no horns blaring from impatient drivers, no crowded sidewalks filled with strangers moving too quickly.
No neighbors arguing through thin apartment walls.
No hospital machines humming through the night.
No relatives whispering in the hallway when they thought she was asleep.
Just wind.
Trees.
Open fields.
And somewhere in the distance, the soft sound of horses.
Mara stood beside the car, staring at the property in silence.
Her uncle’s ranch was larger than she remembered.
Of course, everything had seemed enormous when she was a child. The house had once looked like a mansion, the fields like endless plains, and the stable had seemed like a kingdom where every horse had a story of its own.
Now, at twenty-eight, she could see the truth.
The house was old but beautiful, built with dark wood and wide windows that reflected the afternoon light. A long wooden fence stretched across the property, disappearing toward the green hills in the distance. Beyond it stood several horses, their bodies shifting lazily beneath the shade of the trees.
Rafael walked around the car and opened the trunk.
“You’re staring,” he said.
Mara blinked.
“I’m remembering.”
“Good memories?”
She hesitated.
“Some.”
Her uncle gave her a small smile but didn’t push.
That was one thing Mara appreciated about Rafael. He never forced her to talk.
He had always been like that.
When she was a child, he had been the uncle who let her wander around the ranch without following her every step. He taught her how to feed the horses, how to recognize when a storm was coming, and how to sit quietly on a fence without being afraid of silence.
Now, somehow, he seemed older.
There were more lines around his eyes.
More gray in his hair.
But his presence remained familiar.
Steady.
Safe.
“You can take your things inside,” he said. “Your room is ready.”
Mara nodded and reached for her suitcase.
Before she could lift it, Rafael took it from her.
“I can carry that.”
“I’m not helpless.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because I’m your uncle.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
They walked toward the house.
Mara looked back at the fields.
A brown horse had lifted its head.
It was watching her.
She stopped.
“That’s Bruno,” Rafael said.
Mara turned toward him.
“He’s still here?”
“Still stubborn.”
She walked closer to the fence.
Bruno slowly approached, his ears moving forward as if he recognized her.
Mara reached through the wooden rails.
The horse sniffed her hand.
She smiled faintly.
“I remember him.”
“He remembers you too.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Maybe.”
Mara scratched gently between Bruno’s ears.
For a few seconds, something inside her loosened.
Then she remembered.
The accident.
The hospital.
The phone call.
The funeral.
The empty space beside her.
Her smile disappeared.
Rafael noticed.
He always noticed.
“Come inside,” he said softly.
Mara withdrew her hand.
She followed him.
Inside the house, everything looked almost exactly as she remembered. The wooden staircase still creaked beneath their feet. Old family photographs covered the hallway walls. There was the same large clock above the fireplace, ticking steadily as though time had never stopped for anyone.
Mara paused in front of one photograph.
She was eight years old, sitting on Bruno’s back with both hands gripping the saddle. Her hair was messy, her cheeks sunburned, and she was laughing.
Beside her stood Rafael, much younger.
She stared at the picture for a long moment.
“I was happy,” she whispered.
Rafael stood behind her.
“You still can be.”
Mara looked down.
“I don’t know how.”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said, “You don’t have to know yet.”
Her throat tightened.
“You keep saying things like that.”
“Because they’re true.”
Mara turned toward him.
“You don’t understand.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
His voice remained calm.
“But you don’t have to be strong here.”
She looked away.
She had heard that sentence several times since the accident.
From doctors.
From relatives.
From friends.
You don’t have to be strong.
But she didn’t know how to be anything else.
Being strong was easier than admitting she was broken.
If she stayed busy, she didn’t have to think.
If she smiled, people stopped asking questions.
If she said she was fine, everyone eventually believed her.
But here, surrounded by memories and silence, she wasn’t sure how long she could keep pretending.
That evening, Mara unpacked only half of her suitcase.
She folded a few clothes into the wooden dresser and left the rest where they were.
There didn’t seem to be a reason to unpack everything.
She didn’t know how long she would stay.
A week.
A month.
Maybe longer.
She didn’t even know what she was supposed to do with her life now.
She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the suitcase.
Everything she owned suddenly felt temporary.
Eventually, she stood and walked toward the window.
Outside, the ranch was slowly disappearing beneath the darkness.
The mountains had become silhouettes against the evening sky.
A few lights glowed near the stable.
Mara opened the window.
Cool air entered the room.
She breathed deeply.
For the first time in weeks, she didn’t hear traffic.
She didn’t hear hospital machines.
She didn’t hear people whispering behind closed doors.
She didn’t hear anyone asking if she was okay.
There was only the sound of wind moving through the trees.
Then, somewhere in the distance, a horse shifted inside the stable.
Mara closed her eyes.
The silence should have felt peaceful.
Instead, it hurt.
Because in the quiet, there was nowhere left to hide from her own thoughts.
She opened her eyes.
For a moment, she wondered if coming to the ranch had been a mistake.
Maybe Manila had been easier.
At least there, the noise had kept her distracted.
Here, every quiet moment seemed to remind her of everything she had lost.
Mara wrapped her arms around herself.
She looked toward the dark fields.
Somewhere beyond them was a life she didn’t recognize anymore.
And for the first time, she wondered whether this place was meant to be an escape—
or the beginning of something she wasn’t ready to face.
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