JEALOUS
1833 Words
SARAH'S ROOM - NIGHT
The room is dimly lit, a single lamp casting a warm glow. Sarah sits on the edge of her bed, her gaze lost in the distance. She’s been trying to focus on her phone, scrolling through social media, but her mind keeps drifting back to the events of the day.
Jan Hao had left the house early that morning, saying he had a meeting to attend. But she’d been expecting him back for dinner, as he usually had dinner with Mrs. Wang. Yet, the hours had passed, and there had been no sign of him.
She puts her phone down and sighs, her heart sinking as she realizes that she hasn’t heard from him all day. He hasn’t even texted her.
She tries to convince herself that it’s nothing. Maybe he’s working late. Maybe he’s just busy. But a nagging feeling in her gut tells her otherwise.
She remembers Mark’s words, his playful taunts, his knowing glances. She remembers the way Jan Hao had reacted to Mark, his possessiveness, his anger.
“Maybe he’s jealous,” she thinks, a sense of guilt washing over her.
She knows she shouldn’t be thinking this way. She’s not interested in Jan Hao. But the way he’d been acting, the way he’d been pursuing her, had made her question everything.
But then, she remembers Trixie.
She remembers the way Trixie had flirted with Jan Hao, the way she’d looked at him with adoration. She remembers the way Jan Hao had responded to Trixie, the way his eyes had lit up, the way his demeanor had softened.
“Maybe he’s not jealous of Mark,” she thinks, a wave of sadness washing over her. “Maybe he’s actually interested in Trixie.”
She’s not sure why she’s feeling so sad. She knows she shouldn’t care about who Jan Hao is interested in. But she can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment, a feeling of emptiness that she can’t quite explain.
She closes her eyes, trying to push away the thoughts that are swirling in her mind. She reaches for her phone again, but she can’t seem to focus on anything. The images on the screen blur before her eyes, the words meaningless and empty.
She knows she needs to talk to someone, to clear her head, to get some perspective. But she doesn’t know who to turn to.
She throws her phone back on the bed, a wave of frustration washing over her.
She has a feeling that this is only the beginning. She has a feeling that this situation is about to get much more complicated.
INT. A MODERN RESTAURANT - NIGHT
The restaurant is bustling with activity, the air filled with the aroma of food and the sounds of laughter and conversation. Sarah sits across from Mark, a hesitant smile on her lips.
She had agreed to go on this date with Mark, not out of any romantic interest, but as a way to get back at Jan Hao. She’d heard from Trixie, of all people, that Jan Hao was planning to take Trixie out on a date tonight.
“It’s just a way to make Sarah jealous,” Trixie had said, her voice filled with amusement.
And so, Sarah had agreed to go on a date with Mark.
Mark seemed to be enjoying himself, his charming personality shining through. He makes her laugh, telling her funny stories and anecdotes. He even pulls out a guitar, playing a song that he wrote for her.
MARK
(In Mandarin)
I wrote this song for you, Sarah. It’s called "The Girl Who Makes My Heart Skip a Beat."
He winks at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Sarah can’t help but feel a little flattered, but she knows that this is all just a game. She’s not interested in Mark. She’s only here to make Jan Hao jealous.
SARAH
(In Tagalog)
That’s very nice, Mark.
She forces a smile, trying to mask the unease she’s feeling.
MARK
(In Mandarin)
So, what do you think? Are you impressed?
SARAH
(In Tagalog)
Yes, I’m impressed.
MARK
(In Mandarin)
Good. Because I’m not just a charmer. I’m also a very good dancer.
He stands up, offering her his hand.
MARK
(In Mandarin)
May I have this dance?
SARAH
(In Tagalog)
Okay.
She takes his hand, and they step onto the dance floor. The music fills the air, and Mark leads her along the steps with ease.
She could feel his gaze on her, his warmth radiating through his touch. She can tell he’s trying to make her feel special, to make her forget about Jan Hao.
But she can’t. Her mind kept wandering back to him, to the way he’d been acting lately, to the way he’d been making her feel.
Just as they’re about to embrace, a figure appears at the entrance of the restaurant.
JAN HAO
(In Mandarin)
Sarah!
His voice is filled with a mixture of anger and disbelief.
Sarah freezes, her heart pounding in her chest. She’s been caught.
Jan Hao’s eyes met hers, and she could see the hurt and anger reflected in their depths.
He looked at Mark, his gaze cold and piercing.
He takes a deep breath, then turns to Trixie, who’s standing beside him, her expression a mixture of surprise and concern.
JAN HAO
(In Mandarin)
Trixie, I think it’s time we went home.
He takes Trixie’s hand and leads her out of the restaurant, leaving Sarah and Mark standing there, frozen in shock.
INT. JAN HAO'S HOUSE - NIGHT
Jan Hao storms into his house, his face contorted with fury. He throws his coat onto the couch, his movements filled with rage.
He grabs a glass of whiskey from the bar, pours it into a glass, and takes a large gulp.
The whiskey burns its way down his throat, but it does little to quell the fire that’s burning inside him.
He slams the glass down on the counter, the impact causing it to shatter into a thousand pieces.
He’s never felt so betrayed, so hurt, so angry.
(Sarah is cleaning the living room, her movements unusually slow and deliberate. The room looks spacious and empty without Wang Jan Hao's presence.)
At first, she attributed his absence to work. He was, after all, a busy CEO. But as days turned into weeks, and his absence continued, a subtle unease began to creep into her heart. The usually crisp and efficient atmosphere of the household seemed to soften, losing its edge. The staff moved at a less hurried pace, the air less charged with the intensity of his presence.
(A montage of scenes showing the house without Wang Jan Hao: empty chairs, silent hallways, a general sense of quietude.)
It wasn't just the physical absence that Sarah noticed. The subtle changes in the household dynamics were more profound. The usual tensions with my mum, the unspoken rules and expectations, seemed to have eased, replaced by a strange quiet. The house felt less like a place of work, and more like… a home. But it was a home without its head, its guiding force, and the silence was heavy with the absence of his strong presence. The quiet was not peaceful; it was unsettling, hinting at an underlying shift in the power dynamics that she couldn't quite understand.
(Sarah looking out the window, a pensive expression on her face. The city outside is bustling, a stark contrast to the quiet stillness within the house.)
The realization struck her with a force that surprised her: the house felt… lonely. Lonely without Wang Jan Hao's presence. It was a strange admission, unexpected and unsettling. She had never considered herself emotionally attached to her employer, but the quiet emptiness of the house spoke volumes. His absence had created a void, a silence that echoed with the unspoken questions and the subtle shift in the familiar order of things. The house felt incomplete, and Sarah, along with it, felt strangely adrift.
The quiet hum of the city outside was a stark contrast to the stillness within the house. Sarah hummed a soft tune as she carefully tucked the blanket around the sleeping woman. It wasn't just a child she was caring for; this was Wang Jan Hao's mother, a woman whose quiet dignity and gentle nature had won Sarah's respect. As she smoothed the wrinkles from the bedsheets, she found herself speaking in Tagalog, her native tongue, a comforting language that eased the anxieties that had begun to gnaw at her.
(Close-up on Sarah’s face as she speaks softly to the sleeping woman. Her expression is a mix of concern and affection.)
"Ama," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the gentle rhythm of the woman's breathing. "Namimiss ko na si Jan Hao."
The words, spoken in her native tongue, felt like a release. The simple act of acknowledging her longing, of expressing her concern for the absence of her employer, eased the burden that had settled heavily on her heart. It was a secret she couldn't share with anyone else, a silent ache that only the comfort of her own language could soothe.
(The camera pans to a framed photograph on the nightstand, showing a younger Wang Jan Hao with his mother. The image is slightly blurred, as if seen through a veil of tears.)
The house felt different without Wang Jan Hao. The absence of his strong presence had created a vacuum, a silent space that echoed with the unspoken questions swirling in Sarah's mind. She missed his sharp wit, his demanding nature, even the subtle tension that had always permeated the surrounding air. It wasn't just a professional relationship; there was a strange, unspoken bond that had developed between them.
(Sarah gently strokes the sleeping woman's hand, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and determination.)
The woman stirred slightly in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Sarah gently adjusted the blanket, a wave of affection washing over her. She was determined to be strong, to provide for her siblings, to navigate the complexities of her life in Taiwan. But even in the quiet sanctuary of the bedroom, with the sleeping woman beside her, she couldn't help but miss the presence of her employer, the man who, despite his aloof demeanor, had become a source of comfort and stability, a silent anchor in the storm of her daily struggles. The absence of Wang Jan Hao had created a void, not just in the house, but in her heart as well.
The days continued in their unusual quiet, the absence of Wang Jan Hao leaving a palpable void in the household. Sarah, while diligently attending to her duties, found herself increasingly preoccupied with his absence. Then, a piece of gossip, whispered among the staff, pierced through the quietude, shattering the fragile peace she had begun to find.
(Sarah listens intently as two maids whisper among themselves. Her expression is initially neutral, but a flicker of concern crosses her face.)
- Writer
