Leashed

Chapter 9

3:43 P.M.

Fidgeting and feeling her surroundings, she repetitively glanced at her watch. The lounge felt colder by the minute, and the increasing volume of people inside the Manila International Airport didn't make her at ease. She didn’t like being surrounded by this many strangers; she was never really good in associating with other people. That’s why she deemed that they hated her. She sank her head deeper in her black hoodie and pocketed her hands. There was a cacophony around her, yet she remained patient in listening for the airport announcements. However, she wasn’t anticipating for the flight she booked. She was here for someone.

“Hello, Neoma.” It was sudden, and she jerked in startlement. Ohm appeared with an entourage of bodyguards before her, but his smirk was then replaced with a frown when he saw her face.

Hours Earlier

“Sir, we got a tip from Kalinga Airlines. Miss Neoma has a booked flight to Hong Kong. It will be this 5:30 in the afternoon,” said the young employee who was trying to win his boss’ favor through the phone.

“Hong Kong, huh.” Ohm replied, astonished. She may have underestimated his connections. It had been already two days since she ran away from their wedding. Neoma may have thought that getting a plane ticket from their rival airline wasn’t going to make her traceable.

Poor Neoma, you thought you can escape from us. Grinning, he thought. He realized why she would want to go to Hong Kong. Sol was there, and she needed him to salvage her. Little did she know, Sol needed salvation more.

She had made a stupid move. Her father had not frozen her bank accounts since it would be easier to tempt Neoma to access any of them, and if she ever will, they could easily track her. But that won’t be much to what’s current, because she had made herself be caught effortlessly.

At least, that’s what he thought.

The woman wearing the black hoodie is petite, and her hair is bland brown. She certainly wasn’t Neoma. She wasn’t his runaway bride, and he knew her. Ohm was confused why Neoma’s executive secretary was here instead of her.

“Search her bag.”

Chelsea wanted to protest but could only watch as one of Ohm’s men rudely rummaged through her backpack and fished two plane tickets; both indicated the details he wanted to see: flight number PR 448 bound for Kowloon, Hong Kong. One of these is for Neoma.

“Where’s Neoma?” His temper started to rise.

She fearfully said, “Believe me, Sir Ohm. I also don’t know.”

He roughly grabbed the neckline of her jacket. “Don’t f**k with me! Where the hell is she? And what are you doing here?!”

His eyes were scary—scarier than the horror movies she always liked to watch. She felt choked. “Sir, really, I don’t know what’s going on, but Miss Neoma called me to book us tickets to Hong Kong last night. I guess I’m a little early; she hasn’t come yet.”

Ohm freed Chelsea from his grip and realized that Neoma got her good.

“Ne-o-ma!” He angrily uttered.

Toledo City was cloudy when it welcomed her in its port. The ferry took about twenty-four hours to arrive here carrying a certain passenger who has a pair of brown eyes and flowing black hair concealed in a ball cap. Nonetheless, her left eye started to feel itchy; the contact lens surely wasn’t a good thing. Her hair smelled somehow awful; it was still fresh from being dyed black. For the meantime, she wasn’t “Neoma.” She was a woman named “Carmina Montano” who travelled alone from Manila to Cebu.

Joule’s face popped into her mind like a light bulb. With the absence of Sol and among the very few who can possibly aid her, it was him who was the best candidate. Her ex-lover isn’t just a pretty face. When he was in college, to support his guilty pleasures, he engaged in falsifying many kinds of documents. He made fake diplomas, fraudulent marriage contracts, bogus birth certificates and the like. If there was a degree for this racket, he’d have a master’s. She asked him only two things: to alter her appearance and to make her a new identity.

“Wouldn’t going abroad be the best route of escape?” Joule wondered as he was driving her to a seaport in Cavite. He had called his manager that he wouldn’t be able to attend to his supposed-to-be engagements since he was onto something important. He was certainly with someone important to him. He even gave up most of his few hours for sleep just to empathize with Neoma and to address her demands.

She kept her eyes on the road ahead when he glanced at her. “I wouldn’t bet on that.”

“And why?”

“Knowing my detestable father, he has probably thought that I may resort to that.”

It wasn’t just that. Of course, she realized the extensive connections of the Consunjis who, by this point, have moved their tentacles to monitor seaports and airports to cease her.

“So you think hiding in Visayas will be better?”

“No, I don’t.”

Joule wrinkled his forehead; he was confused.

“Let’s just say I aim to surprise them.”

Joule found himself chuckling towards Neoma’s reply. She amused him, but more than that, she reminded him why he is smitten with her. She is undaunted and independent. She is the type that won’t go down without fighting and if she ever will, she’ll go down like lightning. She is like a raging wind that blows away the dullness of his life. Even so, sometimes, he wished that she wasn’t very strong.

She never presented any hint of vulnerability to him before. That is why he was extremely delighted when she stood at his doorstep to ask for help, particularly that Sol was nowhere. He never once admitted it, but he was somehow jealous of her driver-bodyguard since he receives most of Neoma’s attention. Now that he was out of sight, the chance came for him to protect her. When she asked him where she can hide outside of Luzon but still inside the country, he offered her one of the properties he inherited in Cebu from his father. He left the house alone for years, yet he made sure to hire a caretaker for it; accordingly, he thought that that could be a perfect hiding place for Neoma. Even with that, he was worried for her. No matter how hard she blows, she is still a woman, frail and uncertain, who was running away from her would-have-been husband and her very own father.

The Cavite ferry terminal contained a myriad of faces. They were those of the anxious, the anticipating and the lethargic. Neoma was about to be swallowed into this abundance of people as the sun had already set minutes ago and the colossal ship was taking in more and more passengers.

With a mask on, she looked at Joule who disguised himself wearing a pair of glasses and a blonde wig and picked up her backpack. “Well then, I have to get going. Thanks for everything, Joule. Don’t worry. I’ll pay for all of this in the future.”

Joule hated her leaving him again. There was that bitterness in his chest as he bit his upper lip. “Do you really have to go? Don’t I have anything else that can help you?”

Neoma only looked at him, and her eyes were expressionless. “Joule, this is enough of your help. Thank you very much. Until we meet again.”

“But Neoma!” He stopped her. “Why don’t you just stay with me? I can protect you, and we can forge a marriage. If we can show them something as proof that you are married to me, then I think that Consunji guy and your father might stop chasing after you.”

She felt both his sincerity and his love, and she couldn’t give back anything of equal weight to these. She could see how he longs for her, but she could only caress his face.

“It’s not that easy, Joule. I’m sorry; I can’t stay with you.”

“Please! Neoma, please.” He felt agitated; he realized this late how badly he wanted her to be with him. After all, he is still leashed to his love for her. “I can protect you. I promise I will, so please don’t leave me again.”

She saw his tear roll down his cheek, and she allowed him to pull her towards himself and plant the most yearning of kisses to her lips. Neither of them felt that this was magical, for it was painful for the both of them. It was painful for Joule since it was the last time he could share it with her. It was painful for Neoma for she could never bring herself to love him back because, of course, she doesn’t love anyone other than herself.

It had always been like this for her. She believes that she possesses a small percent of benevolence. She sees herself first and takes initiatives based on her own needs. Most often, she uses people for her own avail. Chelsea was one instance; she emailed her the night before, to use her money to book them both tickets to Hong Kong. This was solely so she could avoid transacting online and having her whereabouts be traced. In turn, she used her naivety to make her an oblivious accomplice to deceive Ohm and her father. And she didn’t care whatever will be the consequence even when, apparently, her executive secretary was fired.

She also inwardly admits that she was only taking advantage of Joule’s affection for her. She knows that he would do anything for her. He’d even die for her if she ever wanted.

When he reluctantly released her, she looked at him endearingly and wiped his tears with her bare quivering fingers. “I’m sorry, Joule. I can’t use you more than I already have.”

And then, he could only observe how her hand severed from his grasp. It was a tormenting parting again for him, but to her, she had to do away with anything that will potentially drag her down albeit her growing feelings for him.

It took the bus an hour and a half to get her to Mandaue, and it started to drizzle. Neoma didn’t find it difficult to locate an old house of the Gozons, and she found it not too remote from the capitol.

“Carmina?” The caretaker’s name was Pablo, and he was an old man with large ears. She believes that when someone has these ears, he would live long.

“That boy, Sir Joule, has informed me about you. Please make yourself at home.”

“Thank you very much, Manong.” Manong, here in the Philippines, is an honorific for older men.

The house was a quarter of the size of the Belmonte mansion. It smelled antique and many of its furniture are decades older than the owner, but it felt cozy and the environment is serene. The small neighborhood didn’t care about the dealings of each other, so she didn’t need to worry about associating with others. Joule surely didn’t kid about providing her somewhere comfortable. He covered her expenses and even handed her a card to let her buy anything of her choice. It was perfect for her, not until a week later, a panting Pablo brought the daily newspaper to her.

One of the headlines caught her attention since it included his name. It read: “Famous Actor Joule Gozon Found Beaten and Unconscious Yesterday inside His Condo and Now in a Coma.”

There are still no suspects. She shivered. She could only think of two people who could do something like this. On that same day, she didn’t bother to give an explanation to the caretaker, for she had to leave there that instant.

Ohm’s private plane has already landed in Mactan-Cebu Airport in the morning. His knuckles still feel sore; nevertheless, beating his rival black and blue was satisfying. Online tabloids gave him away after he read that the celebrity was spotted with a woman whose face was concealed. This woman, he figured out after a photo analysis has a remarkable resemblance with his runaway bride. He then realized that she may have gone to him. He then hired a master hacker to get into Joule’s bank transactions history (Of course, it doesn’t involve theirs) and discovered withdrawals in Mandaue where he has not gone in years.

The actor was unyielding; he didn’t divulge any tiny detail about the exact whereabouts of Neoma. Although asking him was already close to unnecessary since Ohm could always have his connections pinpoint her, he still barged into Joule’s abode and lambasted him.

“Where is she?! You think you can hide her?” Ohm crumpled Joule’s collar, choking him in the process. “You think you’re some prince? You’re just a wimp! A weak son of a b***h!” And he, once again, gave a heavy blow on his already swollen and bloodied face.

But instead of cowering, Joule smiled with two missing teeth, and mocked him. “Aren’t you just desperate?”

With that, Ohm smashed his skull onto the wall.

Ohm felt refreshed that morning. Something about making a person he loathed so much comatose was internally rewarding. He smiled and inhaled the minty air as he stepped down from the plane.

Here I come, Neoma. He condescendingly thought.

Neoma only brought with her a few change of clothes and the little money left from what she withdrew using Joule’s card. She was close not to eating anything because she utilized much of the cash for bus trips from city to city just to get far as much as possible from Mandaue. Days later, she was already far south, and she was left with only less than five hundred pesos.

She was already tired from travelling. She felt nauseous because of it. Her eyes were heavy with dark circles. Her face was pale, and her stomach was yearning for food. Its growling was louder than the sound of Jose Mari Chan’s “Christmas in Our Hearts” being played nearby. Coincidentally, the smell of Dinuguan from a carinderia (an informal restaurant) enticed her.

Evening drew close, and she had walked already quite far from the bus terminal. Right that point, Neoma had another thing to worry about: a place to sleep for the night. She looked at the street dwellers and thought how pitiful their daily lives are, and during the cold nights such as the one eventual, they’d sleep in thin cartons splayed on the pavement. Comparing herself to them, she realized that she wasn’t any different. She had nothing like them. She was untidy like them. She was hungry like them. Unlike her, nonetheless, they were free—free to choose how to live their lives—while she was on the run from those who want to steal her freedom.

She walked and walked aimlessly until the sky turned raven. The stars were there, but the moon was not. Not that any of those mattered right now. She felt drowsy; at any second, she’d surely collapse.

It was then not far ahead that she spotted an open door to a lightless house. She let herself in and observed that it looked unfinished. Sheets of tiles leaned on an edge. Sacks of cement had already hardened. On the floor, weeds have started to spring.

She got herself a piece of plywood and lied there. As she decided to sleep off supper, she started to cry. This wasn’t because she was hungry nor because she was exhausted. It was because she was losing the battle. She had no ally anymore, no one to turn to but her wretched and miserable self.

She thought of Joule and uttered the sincerest of her apologies as she covered her arm over her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Joule, for getting you caught up in this. I’m so so sorry.”

Then, she thought of Sol—the one person who should have been by her side. “Damn you, Sol. Where are you? Aren’t you supposed to be my dog? I need you. Come back.”

Neoma is still the same sadistic and selfish Belmonte heiress who despises appearing frail in front of others, but that night, she cried herself to sleep.

Later that night, however, her sleep was disturbed. A constant nudging to her shoulders did the deed. In her peripheral vision, there was a flicker of light nearby—a candle. But when she looked up, she met a pair of probably the darkest irises she has seen in her life.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my place?” A deep voice said.