I.
1516 Words
The streetlights flickered on as the sky dimmed to a soft indigo, casting gentle shadows over the quiet suburban neighborhood. Raya’s heart thumped with a mixture of nerves and hope as the taxi pulled up to a modest two-story house framed by neat hedges and blooming azaleas. After days in a hotel, the idea of a real home felt like a lifeline—a place where she could finally begin to belong.
She stepped out, pulling her small suitcase behind her, and approached the front door. Moments later, it swung open to reveal a warm smile—the woman who introduced herself as Mrs. McIntyre. “Raya! Welcome. We’re so glad you’re here,” she said, her voice soft but full of genuine kindness.
Behind her appeared two younger kids—a boy of about ten with wide curious eyes and a girl barely seven, clutching a stuffed bear. They peeked shyly but smiled, their excitement bubbling beneath their quiet welcome.
Raya returned the smiles, grateful but still slightly overwhelmed. “Thank you for having me,” she said, stepping inside and breathing in the cozy scent of cinnamon and fresh laundry.
Mrs. McIntyre gave her a reassuring look. “Alec couldn’t be here tonight—he went out with some friends—but he’ll be back soon. I’m sure he’s eager to meet you.”
Raya nodded, trying to push away the sting of disappointment. “I understand. It’s okay.”
The evening settled softly around them, filled with the gentle hum of everyday life—the clatter of dishes, the distant sound of a television, laughter from the kitchen. For the first time since arriving, Raya felt a fragile thread of belonging begin to weave its way through the unknown.
The clinking of cutlery against ceramic plates and bursts of laughter filled the McIntyre dining room like music. The table was spread with Sunday roast, buttered corn, mashed potatoes, and a tossed salad. Warm light from the hanging lamp cast a golden glow on everyone’s faces, making the moment feel like something out of a family painting.
Raya sat between Mrs. McIntyre and the younger daughter, Lila, her dark eyes sparkling as she animatedly told a story.
“So, in Cebu, we have this festival called Sinulog—it’s so loud and colorful. There are street parades, and dancers in these bright, feathered costumes—red, gold, all kinds of colors. And then, we have lechon.”
“Lechon?” Mr. McIntyre raised an eyebrow, slicing into a piece of roast beef.
“It’s whole roasted pig,” Raya grinned. “Crispy skin, juicy meat—super delicious.”
“Oh man,” grinned Ethan, the ten-year-old, “a whole pig? That sounds awesome.”
“Can you eat the head?” Lila asked curiously.
“You can!” Raya laughed. “Some people love the cheeks, or the ears. My uncle says the best part is the crispy ear.”
Everyone laughed, and Mrs. McIntyre added, “Raya, you’ll have to teach me some Filipino recipes. That lechon sounds better than any Sunday roast I’ve made.”
Raya blushed. “I’d love to, ma’am. And maybe some puso—rice wrapped in coconut leaves.”
Just then, the front door clicked open. A rush of cool night air followed Alec as he stepped in, hoodie half-zipped, hair slightly windblown. He looked up toward the dining room where the voices came from.
Mrs. McIntyre’s face lit up. “Alec! You’re just in time—come join us!”
Alec walked in with a half-smile and a tired shrug. “Nah, I just ate with the guys.” His tone was casual, but his gaze flickered to the unfamiliar girl at the table.
Mr. McIntyre rose slightly from his chair. “Come on, at least say hello properly. Alec, this is Hiraya Guinto—Raya. She’s from Cebu, and she’ll be staying with us this semester.”
Alec’s brows lifted almost imperceptibly. His eyes met Raya’s—briefly. “Hey,” he said with a polite nod, voice low. “Welcome, I guess.”
Raya smiled politely. “Nice to meet you.”
There was a brief pause, one of those odd silences that stretch just a second too long.
“Well,” Alec said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m gonna hit the shower. Practice was brutal.”
Mrs. McIntyre frowned slightly. “Don’t forget to take some food later. You’ll be hungry in an hour.”
“Okay, okay,” Alec said as he retreated down the hallway, the creak of stairs and the distant click of a door following him.
Back at the table, Mr. McIntyre sighed. “Teenagers.”
Mrs. McIntyre chuckled. “He’s a good boy. Just a little… rough around the edges.”
“I can tell,” Raya said softly, still smiling—but her thoughts were elsewhere. There was something unreadable in Alec’s eyes. Not unkind, just… guarded.
And though neither of them knew it yet, that brief exchange—those two seconds of eye contact—had just shifted the current of both their lives.
The plates were nearly empty, the conversation winding down as forks clinked lazily against dishes and the final bits of roast were savored. Mr. McIntyre leaned back with a satisfied sigh, while the kids bounced in their seats, already itching to leave the table.
“I can help with the dishes,” Raya offered, gently pushing her chair back.
“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to,” said Mrs. McIntyre, rising to gather the plates. “You’re our guest tonight.”
Raya shook her head with a warm smile. “Back in Cebu, it’s what we do—whoever’s the newest guest ends up helping in the kitchen. It’s part of showing you’re part of the family.”
Mrs. McIntyre paused, her lips curling into something soft and approving. “Well, if you insist. I’ll walk you through where everything is.”
Together, they stood at the sink as Mrs. McIntyre explained the placement of plates, the gentle cycle of the dishwasher, the sponge drawer, and the "no metal in the microwave" rule. The running water was warm against Raya’s hands, a comforting rhythm as she carefully scrubbed and rinsed, stacking each clean dish with practiced ease.
“You’re a natural,” Mrs. McIntyre commented from the pantry, where she was boxing up leftovers. “The kids could learn a thing or two from you.”
Raya laughed softly. “I had lots of practice. We’re a big family back home.”
Once the kitchen gleamed and the dishwasher hummed to life, Raya dried her hands on a floral towel and peeked into the living room, where Lila and Ethan were sprawled on the carpet, flipping through a game board.
“Can I join?” she asked, kneeling beside them.
“Yeah!” Lila chirped. “We’re playing Monster Cheese Mayhem.”
“It’s silly,” Ethan added, “but fun. You have to escape a cheese factory before the monsters eat you.”
Raya laughed, eyes twinkling. “That sounds amazing. I’m ready to fight off cheese monsters.”
They played until giggles filled the room, Ethan trying to narrate in a spooky voice and Lila turning over dramatic “escape” cards. Raya’s face lit up as she leaned into the chaos, the kids already gravitating toward her like she’d always been there.
“Alright, alright,” Mrs. McIntyre called with mock sternness, stepping into the room with her hands on her hips. “Bedtime, monster fighters. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
“Awwww,” both kids groaned in unison, slumping dramatically.
“Brush your teeth, set your alarms,” she added with a smirk, before turning to Raya. “Let me show you what to expect tomorrow.”
They stood by the staircase, her voice lowering into that gentle, motherly tone.
“School starts at eight. Alec will drive you—he always takes the car. I’ll have breakfast ready around 7:15. There’s a spare backpack in the hall closet if you need it, and your schedule is in the welcome folder on your desk upstairs.”
Raya nodded, taking it all in. “Thank you, ma’am. You’ve made me feel so… at home.”
“You’re very welcome, darling. And please, call me Carla.”
“Yes, Ms. Carla,” Raya said with a small smile.
“Just Carla,” she laughed, ruffling Raya’s hair like she would her own daughter.
Upstairs, the hallway was quiet, her footsteps muffled against the soft carpet. She slipped into her room, a modest guest space now filled with her suitcase and folded clothes. A framed photo of the McIntyres sat on the bedside table—smiling, arms around each other on a beach somewhere.
Raya sat on the edge of the bed, glancing out the window at the moonlit street beyond. This wasn’t Cebu. It wasn’t even close. But tonight, for the first time since she landed, it didn’t feel so far.
Tomorrow, the journey would really begin.
- Writer
