CHAPTER 6 — The Story the Town Won’t Tell
1010 Words
Celeste didn’t mean to ask questions. She really didn’t. She told herself she would mind her own business, stay out of trouble, and avoid poking around in things that weren’t hers.
But curiosity had already sunk its claws into her.
And once curiosity took root, it didn’t let go.
That afternoon, she walked to the sari‑sari store to buy a cold drink. The heat was unforgiving, the kind that made her hair stick to her neck and her shirt cling to her back. She missed air‑conditioning. She missed iced coffee. She missed the city.
But she didn’t miss the stress.
She wasn’t sure which was worse.
Aling Rosa greeted her with a smile. “Celeste! You’re getting used to the heat, I see.”
Celeste laughed weakly. “I’m trying. But I think the heat is winning.”
The older woman chuckled and handed her a bottle of soda. “You’ll adjust. Everyone does.”
Celeste wasn’t convinced.
She paid, then lingered by the counter, pretending to look at the snacks. She wasn’t hungry. She was thinking. Thinking too much.
Finally, she asked, “Aling Rosa… can I ask you something?”
The woman’s smile faltered — just a little. “Depends on what it is.”
Celeste hesitated. “The river.”
The air shifted.
It was subtle, but she felt it — like the breeze paused, like the world held its breath.
Aling Rosa’s expression tightened. “What about it?”
“Why does everyone avoid talking about it?” Celeste asked softly. “And why does Elias act like it’s dangerous?”
The woman’s eyes flickered — fear, caution, something else. “Celeste… some things are better left alone.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give.”
Celeste frowned. “Did something happen there?”
Aling Rosa looked away, her hands suddenly busy rearranging candy that didn’t need rearranging. “People talk. People assume. People remember things differently.”
“That’s not a no.”
The woman sighed. “You’re too curious for your own good.”
“I’ve been told that,” Celeste muttered.
Aling Rosa leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Listen to me, hija. The river… it’s not a place you should wander near. Not alone. Not even with someone.”
“Why?”
“Because it carries memories,” she whispered. “And not all memories are kind.”
Celeste felt a chill — not fear, but intrigue. “Whose memories?”
The woman hesitated. “Someone who isn’t here anymore.”
Celeste’s breath caught. “Someone who died?”
Aling Rosa didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
Celeste swallowed. “Was Elias involved?”
The woman froze.
For a moment, Celeste thought she had pushed too far. But then Aling Rosa exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging.
“People talk,” she repeated. “But talking doesn’t make something true.”
Celeste leaned in. “So what do they say?”
The woman looked torn — like she wanted to protect someone, but also wanted to unburden herself.
Finally, she said, “They say… he was the last person seen with her.”
Her.
A single word that carried weight.
Celeste’s heart thudded. “Who is ‘her’?”
But Aling Rosa shook her head. “That’s not my story to tell.”
Celeste opened her mouth to argue, but the woman raised a hand.
“Enough questions for today. Go home, Celeste. And stay away from the river.”
Celeste left the store with more questions than answers. The sun felt hotter, the air heavier, the silence louder.
She walked slowly, her mind racing.
Someone died.
Someone connected to Elias.
Someone the town still whispered about.
And Elias…
He carried that weight in his eyes.
She didn’t know why, but the thought made her chest tighten.
As she neared her grandmother’s house, she saw her mother sweeping the yard. “You were gone a while,” Victoria said. “Everything okay?”
Celeste nodded, though she wasn’t sure. “Just… thinking.”
Her mother gave her a knowing look. “About the river?”
Celeste blinked. “You know?”
“Everyone knows,” her mother said softly. “But no one talks about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because talking doesn’t change what happened.”
Celeste frowned. “What did happen?”
Her mother hesitated — the same hesitation she saw in Aling Rosa, the same hesitation she saw in Elias.
“Some stories,” Victoria said gently, “belong to the people who lived them. Not to the people who are curious.”
Celeste felt frustration bubble in her chest. “But how am I supposed to understand anything if no one tells me the truth?”
Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you’re not meant to understand yet.”
Celeste looked away, jaw tight. “I hate secrets.”
“I know,” her mother said. “But this one… this one isn’t yours to uncover.”
Celeste didn’t respond.
Because deep down, she knew something else:
Secrets had a way of finding her.
And this one was already circling her like a shadow.
That evening, as the sun dipped behind the fields, Celeste stepped outside to breathe. The wind was cool, brushing against her skin like a whisper.
She looked toward the path leading to the river.
And she wasn’t surprised to see him.
Elias stood there, half‑hidden by the tall grass, watching her with that same unreadable expression.
Not angry.
Not cold.
Just… watchful.
Like he knew she had been asking questions.
Like he knew the town had spoken.
Like he knew the past was stirring.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Elias turned and walked away — disappearing into the fields without a word.
Celeste exhaled shakily.
The story the town wouldn’t tell was getting louder.
And she wasn’t sure if she was chasing it…
…or if it was chasing her.
- Writer
