Chapter 3: The Song Between Us
1055 Words
The moment Zenobia stepped off the plane, a warm gust of Manila air wrapped around her like an old blanket — familiar, slightly suffocating, and laced with something she couldn’t quite name.
It had been five years since she last stood on Philippine soil.
As she walked through the arrival gates, her family’s voices cut through the crowd like sirens.
“Zenobia!”
“Anak!”
“There she is!”
Her mother rushed toward her first, arms outstretched, tears already welling in her eyes. Her father followed, more composed but clearly emotional, and behind them stood her younger siblings waving a handmade sign that read, "Welcome Home, Ate Zen!"
Zenobia managed a soft smile as her mother engulfed her in a tight hug.
“You’ve gotten thinner,” her mom scolded immediately, pulling back to inspect her face. “Are you eating? You look so tired. Look at your eyebags!”
“Nice to see you too, Ma,” Zenobia muttered, half-laughing.
Her father gave her a gentle side hug. “It’s good to have you home, sweetheart.”
They helped her with her luggage and chatted through the drive home — updates about cousins she barely remembered, new neighbors, politics, food. Everything felt familiar, but Zenobia felt… out of place. Like she had come back to a version of herself she no longer recognized.
Her mother didn’t mention the arranged marriage again — not yet. But Zenobia knew it was coming. She could feel it in the way her mom kept giving her those hopeful glances in the rearview mirror.
She didn’t have the energy to argue. Not today.
That night, after dinner and forced karaoke with her siblings, she sat quietly in her old bedroom. The walls were still pale yellow, still decorated with faded Polaroids and old concert tickets — untouched, like her life had been paused here the moment she left.
The memories clung to her.
And so did the ache.
The next morning, without telling anyone, Zenobia borrowed her dad’s car and drove. No destination. Just instinct.
Her heart led her to the one place she hadn’t dared visit since she got back.
The cemetery.
She parked under the shade of an old acacia tree and walked the familiar path. The sun was warm, the air oddly still. Her footsteps slowed as she approached the gravestone she had memorized long ago.
Xavier Luis Delgado
Forever in our hearts.
1995 – 2020
She knelt slowly, her throat tightening.
“Hi, Xavy,” she whispered. “I’m home.”
The words hit harder than she expected.
“I know… I should’ve come sooner. I just—” Her voice broke. “I wasn’t ready.”
She placed a small bouquet of white lilies beside his name. The silence felt heavy, like the air had paused to let her grieve.
“You’d probably tease me right now,” she murmured, forcing a small smile. “You’d say, ‘Wow, dramatic entrance. What took you so long?’”
She laughed quietly through the tears.
“I still remember everything, you know. The bike rides. The street food. Us singing in public.”
She shook her head, wiping her eyes.
“You were the worst decision I ever made that ended up being the best one. And now… I’m here, being dragged into some arranged marriage with a guy I haven’t even met.”
She looked up at the sky.
“I wish you were here. I wish I could ask you what to do.”
The wind rustled the leaves gently, and for a moment, she imagined he was listening.
Later that afternoon, her feet led her to one more place.
That place.
The little restaurant tucked between a bookstore and a pharmacy, with fairy lights still strung along the windows and the familiar wooden sign above the door: Allegro.
It hadn’t changed much.
Neither had the ache in her chest.
She stepped inside quietly. The place was nearly empty, just a few early diners and staff setting up. The piano in the corner still stood, slightly dusty but dignified. Memories flooded in like a tidal wave.
This was where Xavy had brought her on their third anniversary.
This was where he’d said, “I can’t promise a perfect life, Zen, but I’ll love you like hell trying.”
This was where he opened a tiny velvet box and asked her to marry him — not with fanfare, but with sincerity so deep, it still echoed in her bones.
As she stood there, lost in the past, a woman approached from the counter.
“Hi, ma’am. Are you here for the private dinner event?”
Zenobia blinked. “No, I just—sorry. I used to come here a lot.”
“Oh! Well, if you’re staying for dinner, we’d love that. But just a heads up… our pianist canceled last-minute. He was supposed to play for the family event tonight. We’re scrambling to find a replacement.”
Zenobia hesitated, eyes drifting toward the piano.
“I could play,” she said before she could stop herself.
The woman’s eyes lit up. “Seriously? You play?”
Zenobia nodded slowly. “Not professionally, but… yeah. I can manage.”
“Thank you!” the woman said, clearly relieved. “You just saved us.”
Across the room, Jared King was seated at a table near the window, sipping wine and half-listening to his friend ramble about corporate mergers and expansion strategies. He wasn’t really paying attention — mostly because he didn’t want to be there in the first place.
He hated these “family-arranged social dinners.” Hated that his mother was still pushing the arranged marriage. Hated that everything in his life felt scheduled, calculated, inevitable.
Then he heard it — soft piano chords, delicate but confident, like fingers brushing over memories.
He turned toward the music.
And saw her.
The woman at the piano.
She didn’t look like a hired performer. She looked like she belonged to the music. Like every note she played was a piece of her story.
Jared leaned forward in his chair, completely forgetting his wine, his friend, even the contract email vibrating in his pocket.
He didn’t know her name.
He didn’t know her story.
But for some reason…
He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
- Writer
