The Next Heiress

Chapter 9 - Return

CELINE SUAREZ. MANILA. YEAR 2021.

It is close to noon, almost at the right time for lunch. The clock is ticking. In a repetitive manner, I tap the wooden table as I wait for a definite answer from the person in front of me. There is a deafening silence between us. The atmosphere is hot, and the tension is so heavy. All that I could hear is my shaky breathing along with the quick beats of my heart.

"I will not leave," I warn with a stern tone. My eyes are fixed on her position, watching her every move. "Until you tell me the truth."

My mother walks from side to side of the dining room. She scratches her head in frustration. Those white strands in her hair give an obvious sign that this woman is too old to play some silly games, especially with her only child—her daughter.

She should tell it to me or I'll lose it, I tell myself, still not removing my gaze from her.

"D-dear," she starts her speech with a stutter, making me more interested in her telling the veracity.

I just nod to convince her that I'm listening.

She coughs to collect her thoughts. "Please...listen to me very carefully."

I cross my arms. "Okay."

Mom lets out a bag of air. She closes her wrinkled eyes for a few seconds before proceeding to her next statement. Her initial actions make me want to scream for a bit so that I can get the real information that I'm dying to know. Literally, I could feel my ears itching for the big tea to spill, making me feel uneasy from my position.

"The letter you received on your birthday is...incomplete," she says as she plays with her hands anxiously.

I squint. "What do you mean?"

"You have to understand it," she lowers her head. "I just put the deficient one because I'm not ready enough for you to know the truth."

"About what?" My eyes glare in growing impatience. "Please, tell me!"

Her voice trembles. "I'm very sorry."

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March 19, 2021

Quiapo, Manila

To my dearest Celine,

As you read this, keep in mind that I am so proud of you. You are about to open a new journey in your life, and I can't wait to see you grow into the brilliant and strong woman you aspire to be!

Attached with this letter is the document about your new abode. Passed by my mother, Carmina Quiñones-Suarez, to me, you are now the inheritor of the two-story ancient house from our Filipino-Spanish ancestors.

The home is rich with history during the pre-World War era. Even if our nation was under the American government, we were one of those privileged Filipinos with decent living during the 1930s. Your great grandmother, Yolanda Alcantara, had married a Mestizo heir named Aureliano Quiñones so that we could save the family's sugarcane businesses and wealth during the midst of a weakening economy.

After your great-grandmother, each of the heiresses took care of the house and treated it like their own. Now, in your turn, accept it as a gift for your coming of age.

With all of my heart, I love you.

Your mother,

Carolina Suarez

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After reading the letter that she had given to me on my eighteenth birthday, my head raises up to glance back at her. In response, she just avoids my stare. I put the letter back inside the brown envelope, and I toss it on the table. I find myself resting my head on my palms. The confusion within me has become worse. A few seconds later, I look at her in total bewilderment.

"How come that it's incomplete? I've read that several times. It seemed fine," I reply, shrugging. "Where's the other one?"

Mom stares at me. It is oddly visible that nervousness is starting to knock her down. I just don't understand. She already gave me the letter along with the document of the property, and I even went to the house and was living in it for almost two weeks. Then, what's the particular thing that is keeping her from letting the truth fall from her mouth? Is that difficult to comprehend? Or is it just unbearable to know?

"Mom, can you—" I sigh in vexation. "Can you just stop beating around the bush?"

"You are the next," she replies, almost inaudible. "The next lover of Tadeo Caringal."

My brows furrow in a puzzled manner. "What...did you just say?"

Suddenly, my mother bursts into loud weeping. My eyes widen as they watch a woman slowly kneeling on the floor with her hands sliding down her thighs. I rush towards her to calm her down, letting my knees touch the tiled surface of our old house.

"Mom, what's happening? Tell me! Why are you crying? Who is he?" I flood her with questions.

In a very slow approach, she turns her face to look at me. Her eyes are almost bloodshot due to heavy teardrops falling intensely from them.

"You have to go back to your own home," she orders. I see her gulping down in an attempt to soothe herself, along with her hands wiping her cheeks gently.

It has been two weeks, and I can't already bear living in that antique house. It's too haunted. Every time I try to sleep at night, I could hear some things falling on the floor from the different rooms. When that happens, I would check each of the six rooms, and all of them are fine, except for that damn library. There, I would see the oil painting laying on the floor like somebody just tossed it carelessly.

Who could sleep peacefully in there? My eyes wouldn't even shut because of fright.

Before I could say that I won't leave again unless she's telling me the truth about the house and its mysterious happenings, she finally has the courage to speak once more. "Go to the library. Find the small wooden box and read the letter inside of it."

I could feel my tensed heart dropping on the ground. So it wasn't a coincidence that it fell on the floor solely for me to see it, my brain has been running with these thoughts. I was right. That house is not ordinary.

My mother looks at me carefully before lowering her head for the second time. "That's the most important part that I didn't include in your birthday letter."

Immediately, I stand up from my seat. My sudden action makes my mother startle from her position. I head for the door.

"Where are you going?"

I glance at her. She looks awfully pitiful in her state. "I'll get my things. I can't live there anymore. I'll be back here with you, Mom."

"No, no! Dear, please! Just stay in there!" She cries, making my chest tighten.

I shake my head in disapproval. There's no way that I could still be in there. My quality of sleep is already deprived, and I think I'm not yet ready to be all alone living in an enormous house with a painting that continues to fall almost every night, despite of my efforts to attach it securely to the wall numerous times.

But what makes me really agitated is the fact that whenever I see the artwork, it changes. Some days, I could see the shadow of that tall man inside the Nipa Hut. There's also a time when I saw him leaning on the water well, and in the garden looking at the flowers. The illustration of him is tiny, but my vision could clearly determine that he has the same, familiar figure...and clothes.

Like I've seen them before.

"I saw him, I swear! He was just standing behind you!"

"Are you sure?"

Unexpectedly, the flashback of the day when Jim and I were talking during my party's preparation pops up in my mind. The realization shudders my shoulders, causing me to scare the wits out of me.

"Have you read it, Celine?"

Upon hearing my mother's second question, my feet refrain from walking. My eyes blink rapidly, and I exhale once more, coming back to my senses. Mom is clearly talking about the old letter inside the wooden box. I find myself grasping the doorknob in a hard manner.

"No. I haven't. I already saw it, but I didn't read it," I respond with a flinty tone.

She sniffs. "Well, you should. The answers you've been looking for are all in there."

I gape outside through the glass panel of the door, letting myself cool down.

"You have to listen to me, dear," she persuades. "This is your obligation."

My head turns around to face her. She's already standing while continuing to relax. "And so what if I don't? What will happen to me?"

My mother shakes her head promptly, trying to halt another wave of upcoming tears. "I'm afraid that you don't want it to know."

I tilt my head to the right side, signaling her to drop the bomb already. "Mom just—"

She interrupts by parting her mouth to speak. "His life and yours are connected."

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Several hours have passed since I got home after talking to my mother in our old house. Still, I haven't decided if I'm going to read the most essential piece of the letter. While sitting on the edge of the bed, I have been staring at the tiny wooden box for the past twenty-five minutes. I'm curious about its contents, yet I'm also afraid to know the details.

"His life and yours are connected."

I could hear my mother's last words echoing in my ears.

It's just a lame excuse, right? I whisper to myself. In a swift manner, I lie down on my bed. Why would a stranger's life be connected to mine? I mean...who the hell is he?

As my head moves to the left side of the mattress, the oil painting meets me with its marvelous workmanship. I almost forget that this artwork is resting here with me. From the time that I went home earlier, I quickly headed to the library to get it and to further examine its features.

"Tell me," I talk to it like it has a life. "Are you even that important?"

Using my left hand, I reach for the painting. I stare at it immensely, thinking of the things that I may need to do with it. To my surprise, the painting suddenly changes. The figure of the tall man that I used to observe is there. His hands are in his pockets. Slowly, he is walking away from the Nipa Hut. My eyes widen as I notice something.

His feet...are literally moving!

With my other hand, I wipe my eyes to look at it carefully, hoping that I'm only hallucinating due to tiredness, but still, the lad is in there. He's continuing to wander around while staring out of nowhere.

"S-s**t!" I curse under my breath, throwing away the painting in shock.

It has landed in the corner of the room. For a moment, I've thought it will break, but fortunately, it's safe. As I look at it, some faint sunlight rays of the sunset hit a specific part of the artwork. Steadily, I come forward to kneel down and see it from a closer view.

**. *******.

"Huh?"

The feeling is odd. There are these traditional Chinese characters engraved on the wood frame of the painting. I only know a bit of Hangul due to binge-watching of Korean dramas in my early teens, and while I have some parts of the Spanish race running in my blood, I don't even fully know their language. My tongue is truly native, and English is the only language that I'm fluent in.

What could be worse than this? I ask myself. Probably, my clueless butt won't answer that question.

While staring at it, a certain person unexpectedly passes through my mind. Quickly, I stand up from my bed to reach for my phone that is placed on the dresser. My thumb places itself on the fingerprint scanner on the screen, and it unlocks. I search for the contact of my classmate on Messenger, and I press the call icon. Luckily, it is ringing. I wait for a few seconds, and all of my worries dissolve when finally, I hear the voice of an amiable guy.

I stare at the ceiling with my smartphone in my right ear. "Nathan?"

"Oh hi, Celine!" His voice is cheerful, matching his approachable personality. "Why did you call? Is it urgent?"

I bite my lips, hoping that this phone call won't be awkward. "Uhm, hey, listen. I just wanna ask if you can read and write Chinese?"

"Hmm? Why?"

"I mean, if I'm not mistaken, you used to live in Binondo, right?" I add, giggling unseemly to make this conversation a little friendlier. "And you're half-Chinese?"

His tone lowers. "Uhm..."

Upon hearing his somewhat long response, I instantly feel stupid for asking a weird question. Just because he used to live in Binondo, Manila doesn't mean that he might be a part of the Chinese ancestry, or he can read and write in Mandarin. I close my eyes in embarrassment, realizing that I've just given him a taste of stereotypes.

After a few seconds of awkwardness, I hear him chuckling on the other line. "That's definitely true. You asked the right person, Celine."

I sigh in relief, loosening my crossed fingers. "Oh god, thanks, Nathan!"

"What is it? A text or a picture?" He asks. "Let me see it."

I find myself nodding at him. Dumb girl. He can't see it. You're talking on the phone. "Wait, I'll send it."

"Sure," his tone sounds alluring.

I capture a photo of the wood frame, and without hesitations, I quickly press the send button. The image starts to upload, showing a revolving circle icon on the screen. Oh, come on. Make it faster, you stupid Globe, I whisper through my teeth, scolding my Internet connection provider. Fortunately, nobody can't hear it. I bite my lips in waiting, then after a few seconds, the picture sends to Nathan.

"Alright," I break the silence. "I sent it to you. Check it now."

"Yes, I saw it. Wait for the translation," Nathan replies.

As I begin to wait for the translated version, I glance over my right shoulder and see my bed. I go back to sitting on its edge, and I keep stomping my right foot in a slow, repeated manner. Good thing, it only takes a few minutes before I receive a notification about the translated version.

"There, I already messaged it to you," he tells.

"Cool, thanks again!" I chirp, standing up from my bed. "I owe you one, Nathan."

He snickers sweetly. "No problem. Anytime, Celine."

I smile, still holding the phone in my ears. "Wait, I'll just read it. Don't hang up yet, I might ask more questions."

"Okay," he giggles once more.

I put my phone on loudspeaker. Straight away, I click on the new notification on my Messenger application. Upon doing so, a typed text shows on my screen.

(In Tagalog): Buksan mo ang pinto. Narito ang kasintahan mo.

"Open the door. Your lover is here," I read the words aloud. "Woah, is that it, Nathan?"

The guy chuckles. "Yes. That's—"

Before he could fully respond to my question, suddenly, a massive ball of very bright light appears before my eyes, causing my arms to cover my face in protection. Afterward, there is something that is slowly covering my whole self. What is that? I ask myself as I open my eyes.

To my surprise, I am already in a different place. My bedroom is gone. The surroundings are dark as if I'm inside a room with a total blackout. I can't fathom the full size of the place, but it's definitely massive, probably a thousand people could fit inside. Because of what's happening, my chest goes up and down, catching my breath as my hands tremble. I am awfully nervous.

Where the hell am I?! My head roams around.

I glance to the left and to the right, but there is nothing to see. Finally, when I look at the bottom, my eyes widen in shock. There is no platform to stand on. Am I floating?! My teeth are gritting with fear. Surprisingly, a strong force pulls my body down. It is like heavy energy sucking my entire physique towards the bottom of a blank, endless place.

Everything is so frightening. It resembles that feeling whenever I dream of falling down the building, but this is worse because I couldn't see anything. I'm all surrounded by darkness. For something to cling onto, my hands are desperately reaching for the top that I can't even see.

I could hear the voice of Nathan, echoing within the empty place. "Celine? Hey? Are you still there?"

"I'm here! Help me, please!" I try to shout as loud as possible for him to hear, but there's no sound that is coming out of my mouth. "Nathan!"

All of a sudden, a loud bang shushes me down, causing me to lose my consciousness.

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My eyes open slowly, letting my eyelids flutter.

"A-argh...where am I?" I groan as I touch my head. It is throbbing hard.

I let my eyes roam around the surroundings. Thick fluffy clouds with rounded tops scatter throughout the blue sky. They hang above me like big balls of white cotton. This is familiar, I tell myself.

In an attempt to stand even for a bit, I arch my back, and my arms rest on both of my sides in support of my body. As soon as my hands land on the grass, my eyes widen at the realization—I'm at a different place...again.

"N-no, please, no," I shake my head in fright.

My heart beats nervously. There is a deep tension growing inside of it, and its pumping is so fast, like any minute I might collapse for the second round. Once more, I glance around, checking the location that I'm in. There is that familiar-looking Nipa Hut, the water well, the beautiful garden with flowers, the small plants, and the...

"Yolanda!" A voice calls out, catching my attention.

I turn around to look, and there I see a young man, dressed in a white collarless, long-sleeved shirt that ends on his wrists. His pair of brown pants is faded and almost worn out. He runs fast towards me as if I'm the only person that he's longing to see in his life.

"You're back!" The lad shouts with a happy tone.