The Next Heiress

Chapter 13 - Tree

For no reason, my eyes burst open.

Probably, it is one of those late-night moments in your life that you randomly wake up from your peaceful sleep. Or maybe, there is something that's bothering me?

Is it really something...or someone? A question pops in my head.

Still feeling drowsy, I let my back erect in order to sit on my bed. A noisy yawn escapes from my mouth, and my eyes blink in a rapid manner many times. Raising my head up, I take a glance at the round clock that's placed on the white-painted wall.

2:48 A.M.

"I should just go back to sleep," I tell to myself with a soft voice, wiping my eyes lazily.

As I pull the blanket close to my body, suddenly, a certain sound of an object startles my ears. It is a soft, crackling sound that seems to be the product of two moving thick legs.

What's that?

Immediately, I tilt my body aside to look for the object using my left hand. My curiosity slowly fades, and it is replaced with disappointment when I touch a thin sheet of material.

It is the old letter.

The one from my dead great grandmother.

"Ugh," I mutter under my breath, letting out a scornful sigh.

Well, last night was definitely not a good time for Celine Suarez. I remember requesting my best friend, Brielle, to buy me three bottles of Red Horse after classes. If you could just take a look at her face. It was so hilarious. Her jaw almost dropped to the floor. With that reaction, of course, the girl was so surprised by my order. After expressing herself, she scolded me for a bit. Just like what my mother does to me.

It's not surprising that she wasn't pleased.

She's a very protective companion when it comes to me, but still, I insisted on it a hundred times.

If I'm being honest, that was my first time having a taste of that alcoholic drink. She bought me the three-hundred-thirty milliliter one. And, since Brielle already has some experience in drinking, I'm quite confident that I've made the right choice by asking her that unexpected favor.

Before she could leave, that girl hesitated for one last time to get me even a bottle, but since I urged her that my body is now ready for a savor of alcohol, she later agreed.

"Celine, do you want me to join you? I don't want you to drink alone," I recall her telling that with a worried expression on her face, after handing me the reddish-brown bottles inside a pink paper bag.

But no, I politely declined her caring offer with a shaking head and a smile. I decided to drink by myself till the last drop because I wanted to be alone as I read that damn old letter once more.

Well, I really tried my best, but I've realized that alcohol and I are not a good pair.

"Argh..." I groan as my hands hold my head. Tiny kicks from the liquor still linger within it, even if several hours have passed and I've already slept it off.

After a few minutes of debating whether or not to slumber again, I've decided to stand up and freshen up. I'm going to eat some bananas and drink a glass of milk or maybe two from the Magnolia carton that Brielle has purchased along with the three bottles of Red Horse. Well, the difficult thing that I have to face is the fact that those products are downstairs, specifically in the kitchen.

Which simply means...I have to walk at least a hundred steps back and forth.

Anyway, why did I even drink last night?

"T-Tadeo Caringal," I grumble, then chuckle in a sarcastic tone that I could ever make. My eyes are half-opened, trying my best not to fall asleep as I walk out of my room. "You'll surely pay for this."

Wait a minute.

For the three bottles of Red Horse from the seven-eleven store?

Absolutely not.

He will pay for ruining my quiet life.

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Finally, the episode has finished. I have been laying down on the wooden sofa in the living room, letting myself be a little annoyed as I watch a drama entitled I Am Not A Robot for the past hour.

Stupid story, I whisper to myself, pressing the power off button of the TV remote.

"The male lead didn't know that she's not a robot all this time? Oh, for goodness sake! I'm so done with this crap," this time, I say it out loud, like I have somebody that I'm talking with.

"Who's the director of that series?" I snort. "That will never happen in real life."

Suddenly, I find myself laughing at my own conversation.

"Then there's me...and that goddamn painting," my head shakes in disbelief. A realization that I have this existing peculiar obligation slowly covers my whole being.

"My life would be a good Korean drama."

With a smug look, I stand up from the wooden couch. I've already drunk two glasses of milk and eaten the three bananas, and the effects seem to make a difference. My headache begins to dissolve for a little, and I'm feeling way better than earlier.

"Time to sleep again, Celine," I heave out a sigh, throwing a pillow back to the seat. "You must promise to yourself that you won't get wasted too much like this again," I scold myself, laughing at my own sermon.

Moments later, my feet bring me to the stairs to get back to my room. As I climb upstairs, I hear something falling from one of the rooms.

"Not again," I roll my eyes while moving my right hand past the wooden handrail.

For a moment, my feet stop from reaching the fourth tread of the stairs. I glance at my right wrist and smile. The beautiful golden pressed flower bracelet boasts its sparkling charm under the dim lights of the house. What I love about it is the white Queen Anne's lace flower that is enclosed and surrounded by Cubic Zirconia stones.

Very pretty.

"Justin..." I mumble as my hand touches the jewelry piece gently.

Upon remembering him, a pang of agony slaps me hard, causing my head to lower down, and my fists to clench on their own. Tears threaten to fall down my face, and despite my best efforts to hold them in, I find myself already wiping some teardrops off my cheeks. The thought of not having the freedom to choose whom I want to love is just painful.

Too painful.

"Your life is involved here," I could hear my mother's last haunting sentence echoing within. I close my eyes quickly, covering both of my ears in an attempt to drive away from her voice.

"His life and yours are connected."

"You are the next lover of Tadeo Caringal."

In a swift manner, I tap both sides of my face using my fingernails in an attempt to come back to my senses. Gradually, the screaming thoughts inside my brain diminish. When all things seem to calm down, my feet continue to climb up the stairs.

As I walk back to my room, I notice a different shift in the atmosphere after passing the "R1" room—the part of the house where the huge library is. A heavy wave of guilt enfolds every part of my body. It resembles that moment when you have a very serious pending task, and the deadline of it is so near.

There are only two choices.

Should I visit him? I ask myself, surprised by feeling a little stupid. Or continue being hard-headed?

Well, I don't really have a choice, do I?

To relax my body once more, I exhale in a careful manner, letting the heavy air out of my lungs. After doing so, I glance over my left shoulder to have a glimpse of that room.

"This is it," I announce as I touch my loudly pumping chest.

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Just like what I have expected, the oil painting is on the floor, laying there helplessly as if somebody has tossed it. Well, that instance is not new. It always detaches itself from the wall in spite of my endeavors of putting it securely. I could remember buying a good brand of hook for it, but it still didn't work. Should I just give up returning it to its original place?

Pondering about it, an idea unexpectedly lights up the bulb inside my mind.

"You will be with me inside my bedroom," I talk to the artwork as if I were with another person inside my house.

Upon hearing my own words, my cheeks blush in embarrassment. I haven't realized that they could be mean in a different way.

"That sounds...weird."

I stare at the painting. There, I see the tall man, sitting on the grass near the Nipa Hut. As I lean on further, I notice that he's throwing some stones to the ground, like he's keeping himself entertained with that mini-game that he'd made while waiting for somebody.

And that would be me.

"Okay, Tadeo," I bite my lips nervously. "Wait for me."

With the old painting in my hands, I return to my room. This time, I won't throw it to the wall, as I've done previously. Instead, I place it on my bed in a gentle approach, still not removing my gaze from it.

"This shouldn't be hard, Celine," I remind to myself, tapping my thighs repeatedly. "You've already been there. You know what it feels like. Don't feel too tense."

I peek at the timepiece on the wall, it's already 4 o'clock in the morning. With my eyes unopened and my loud beating heart, those seven important words finally slip away from my mouth.

"Open the door. Your lover is here."

To my surprise, there is no bright light. No heavy energy is pulling my body down the endless pit. The feeling is so foreign. My whole physique is floating in the thin air, like an astronaut in outer space. I want to witness everything that's happening, but due to agitation, my eyes remain closed. I let my body float until my feet touch that familiar grassy ground.

As I open my eyes slowly, a young man appears in front of me.

It is him.

His face is only a few inches apart from mine.

"Yolanda...hi," Tadeo greets as he displays a radiant smile.

With this sudden close encounter, I almost scream in shock. Fortunately, covering my mouth has preceded my true expression, so I collect myself back on track and decide to return the greeting.

"Hello," I reply, my voice is laced with awkwardness. "How are you?"

He doesn't answer my friendly question. Instead, he leans closer to me. With his ravishing face coming nearer, I close my eyes immediately, and my hands grasp my Hello Kitty pajama pants.

It is starting to change.

A soft gulp appears in my throat, and I could feel my heart pumping way too hard.

What is he going to do? I ask myself, touching my chest nervously.

Suddenly, a hand meets my black, medium-length hair. I open my eyes, and there I see Tadeo combing it with his thick fingernails. Luckily, I used a good shampoo yesterday, or else he would deal with its annoying tangles.

"It's weird," he says, narrowing his eyes to examine it.

I breathe heavily. "About what?"

"You have a little longer hair now, unlike before."

What does he mean? I bite my lips, feeling anxious at his strange comment.

He noticed my hair, right?

This guy even said that I'm beautiful.

But now, he's acting like I've changed its style.

I try to remember the things that happened within these past few days—our first meeting; my mother spilling out the painting's secrets; knowing the confident transferee at the school, and my weird encounter at the volleyball training.

What is it this time?

My mother, my eyes widen at the realization.

Before I could forget, Mom has already said that she visited him. Due to the sudden memory, a flashback quickly plays inside my mind like a cinema. It is about the day when she has told me about the truth. That could be the reason why this man is acting like this. Mom has said that I'm being a fool, but she's making these things complicated by going inside this artwork without my knowing.

Wait, I pause myself from overthinking. A big question swims around my brain.

I stare at him. "Tadeo."

He looks deep into my eyes, detaching his fingers from my hair. "Hmm, yes?"

"What does she look like?" My head tilts in wonder.

"Who?" His brows furrow in confusion.

I cross my fingers, silently hoping that my interrogation would go well. "You said my hair was a little longer, unlike before. So, I'm just asking about the appearance of the girl you've seen the other day. What does she look like?"

Tadeo stares at me blankly. A few seconds pass before he answers my repeated question. "She looks just like you. She also has some locks of hair on her forehead like yours."

Okay, mom has bangs too. That's good, my shoulders drop in calm means.

"She has shorter hair, probably falls at her jaw level," he lowers his head.

That's it. He noticed it, I blink my eyes rapidly. Mom has a bob haircut.

He steps closer. "Also, she's young, like you've always been."

Mom? Looking young? I feel a lump in my throat. Does that mean that she appears like that inside the—

"And of course, very beautiful," he beams at me. "She looks exactly like you, except with your clothes right now."

My cheeks heat up. I glance at my pajamas in embarrassment. "Well, I just woke up early."

"I see," Tadeo smirks.

The young man gazes at me. It is as if every ounce of my breath is taken from my lungs, floating into the air like a cloud of midnight smoke. There is something in the way he looks at me. His piercing stare is so different from the ones that I have seen before.

As I focus on him, he locks eyes with me, and there, I witness how deep they really are. They are not just a solid brown. Spirals of earthy shade, colliding with honey droplets and even a faint green color fill those two orbs with magnificent light.

Breathtaking, I whisper to myself, feeling his captivating eyes.

"My love," Tadeo calls out charmingly, sending sweet chills to my ear. "Come with me."

My heart beats faster. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," he replies, grabbing my hand and intertwining it with his.

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Tadeo brings me to the back of the Nipa Hut again. There, we see the tall trees around it. Most of the area contains deciduous broad-leaved and coniferous woody plants. I haven't noticed its specific kind last time since I was carried away with his storytelling, and how he's very passionate about watering them daily. I find myself grinning as I remember it.

"Why are you smiling, beautiful?" He asks, his hand is still attached to mine.

"Nothing," I snicker. "Anyway, you're a plant person, aren't you?"

"Yes," the guy answers softly. An indistinct troubled expression arises on his face. "That's why it is difficult for me to show this to you."

I lift a brow, bewildered. "Show me what?"

This man pulls me towards the huge tree that stands proudly in the middle of the location. It is so towering that I could view it as tall as my school's second floor. My eyes widen as I enjoy the sight of it—the leaves are rich in a green hue, and they are all swaying gracefully along with the movement of the wind.

"Wow, this is so big," I state in awe, raising my chin up high. "By the way, what are you going to show me?"

Tadeo removes his hand from mine. He goes behind my back, and he pushes me gently in the direction of the tree's trunk. When I look at it, suddenly, my stomach loads up a twitchy sensation, sending nervous signals to cope with my loud beating heart.

"W-what is this?" I ask him, touching the carved letters on the wooden stem.

(In Tagalog): Ikaw ang buhay ko.

Tadeo chuckles at my question. "You don't know how to read?"

Surprisingly, my eyes start to feel heavy. It is an obvious sign of an upcoming wave of tears. "Is this true?" I ask him as I cover my mouth with my right palm.

"Yes, it is," he brushes his face against my cheek lovingly. "As it says, you are my life."

Fully, Tadeo goes in front of me. He opens his arms and wraps them around me. His hand is on my lower back, while the other one touches my hair in a tender manner that I've never felt from a man before. I don't know what to feel. If I could remember, I wanted him to stop trying to come into my life; I was clueless before, and I even drank almost up all night just to forget this ridiculous obligation. But here I am, sobbing while embracing him just because of those precious words.

Like I mean everything to him.

"Don't worry, I already apologized to this tree for hurting him," Tadeo simpers, releasing me from his hug to wipe the tears off my cheeks. "And he said that it's okay as long as it is for you."

I laugh at his funny attempt of calming me down. "You are really weird."

"We are just the same," he grins, squeezing my face playfully. "Anyway, do you like it?"

I smile at him, staring directly into his brown eyes. "Yes, I do. Thank you."

Tadeo hugs me once more. This time, it is tighter than before, as if he doesn't want to let me go from his warm embrace. "You are my life, Yolanda," he whispers softly. His benign voice soothes every ache of my guilty heart. "I hope you know that."

Upon hearing those words, a bitter smile plays on my lips.

I also hope you know that my name is Celine Suarez, my eyes close, letting the last teardrop fall down to my cheek.

Not Yolanda Alcantara.