Apartment Thirteen B

13-B I

Simula...

Ang weird talaga ng mga cold cases.

Pero ito, ibang level ng weird.

I was halfway through my second coffee when Chief dropped the file on my desk like a plot twist.

"Reopen this one. Anonymous tip came in," he said. Simple lang, pero may tono ng pagod. Yung tipong gusto na lang niyang itapon 'yung kaso sa kung sinong willing.

Apparently, ako 'yon.

CASE: UNSOLVED

Name: Alvarez, E.

Status: Presumed Deceased

Date of Incident: October 13, 2020

Location: Rivera Heights, Apartment 13-B

Basa ko pa lang 'yung address, may kumurot na agad sa tiyan ko. Not fear, not excitement and more like... déjà vu. Pero wala naman akong maalala.

Binuklat ko 'yung folder. Ilang pages lang, basic details, last known whereabouts, a single crime scene photo. Tapos isang polaroid. The only image of the victim.

Pero ang photo?

Walang mukha!

The man in the photo was standing with his back to the camera, sa terrace ng isang apartment. Sunset. Malamlam ang ilaw. His figure was tall, naka-black shirt, may hawak na mug. His head was slightly turned to the side, but enough para hindi mo makita ang identity niya.

Pwedeng glitch. Pwedeng sinadya. Pwedeng multo.

"Wala bang mas malinaw?" tanong ko, kahit alam ko namang wala.

Chief just shook his head. "No fingerprints. No relatives stepped forward. Wala tayong pangalan except for the initials on the mailbox na E.A."

"Then saan nanggaling 'yung 'Elijah Alvarez'?"

"Anonymous tip five years ago din. Tapos bigla ring nawala. Now, the same voice called again. Same words saying 'He's still there.'"

I closed the file. Ang Creepy.

"Welcome to the job," Chief muttered.

So ayun na nga, gabi na nang napadpad ako sa Rivera Heights.

The place had that expensive, old soul charm. Mga hallway na parang luma pero sosyal. Floorboards that creak pero may dignity. The kind of building na kung may multo man, malamang English-speaking.

Pag-akyat ko sa 13th floor, medyo kinabahan ako. The air was colder. Palusot ko na lang siguro 'yon, kasi wala namang thermostat sa hallway.

Tumingin ako sa door na may nakasulat na 13-B.

Simple lang ang pinto. Tila walang nakatira. Pero bago ko pa man makatok...

Bumukas ang pinto.

And there he was.

Tall. Calm. Suot ang dark gray sweater. Wala akong makita agad sa mukha niya dahil backlit siya ng ilaw sa loob ng unit. Parang silhouette ng lalaki mula sa panaginip.

Then he spoke.

"Late ka."

"Ha?" I blinked. "I mean... sorry? I didn't mean to...uh, disturb?"

"Don't worry. You always come late," he said, turning his back and walking inside.

Okay. Creepy. Presumptuous. Mysterious.

Hot.

Huy ano daw?! Joma yan????

Napabuntong-hininga ako. I should've walked away. Tumawag muna sana ako ng backup. Pero of course, ako 'to. Ang tanging babae sa station na nag-iimbestiga habang naka-Heads & Tails heels.

So pumasok ako.

Pagpasok ko, I expected a wreck. Dust. Broken furniture. Yung usual na hitsura ng matagal nang abandonadong apartment.

Pero hindi.

Malinis. Maaliwalas. Organized.

May shelf ng books. Lumang piano. A wall of abstract paintings na parang... pamilyar. Pero hindi ko matandaan kung saan ko nakita.

Tiningnan ko 'yung lalaki. Nakatayo siya sa may kusina, naghahanda ng kape. Sa wakas, lumapit ako para makita ang mukha niya.

And when I did

Boom.

Tila may pumasok na hangin sa dibdib ko na hindi ko alam kung malamig o mainit. May kung anong familiar sa mga mata niya. Sa postura niya. Sa paraan ng paggalaw niya.

Pero hindi ko siya kilala. Right?

"Uh, sorry, I didn't catch your name," I said.

Napatingin siya sa'kin. Matagal. Tahimik. Yung tipong titig na hindi bastos pero matalim. Parang gusto niyang sabihin na kilala niya ako. At gusto niyang ako rin, maalala ko siya.

But I didn't.

"Let's not pretend we don't know each other, Mira."

Hala.

Wait.

Wait lang.

"Paano mo alam ang pangalan ko?" I asked, backing a step.

He smiled. The kind of smile na hindi buo at parang nalulungkot. Parang pagod. Parang matagal ka nang hinihintay.

"I always remember you," he said. "Even when you keep forgetting."

I froze.

Okay. That was... dramatic. Borderline poetic. Very Netflix miniseries.

"Right," I said slowly. "So you're saying we've met before."

He tilted his head. "Have you really forgotten?"

Tinitigan ko siya. Maayos ang gupit, neat ang damit, at sobrang linis ng buong unit. No signs of neglect. No signs of abandonment. As if someone lived here every day pero sabi sa record, walang nakarehistrong tenant dito for five years.

I should be alarmed. I should probably radio HQ.

But something in me, something I couldn't name told me to stay.

Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like I used to mean something. Maybe it was the way his voice sounded oddly familiar, like a song I once loved but forgot the title of.

Or maybe it was that I wasn't just here to solve a case.

Maybe I was trying to remember something I didn't even know I'd lost.

"Are you Elijah Alvarez?" I finally asked, keeping my tone neutral kahit ang totoo natatakot na ako.

He smiled but looked sad, again. "Does it matter who I am, if you've already decided to forget?"

Putcha. Ang cryptic!

I narrowed my eyes. "Okay, Mr. Philosophy. You're making this real hard for me."

"Not trying to," he said, walking past me and placing two mugs of coffee on the center table. "You always get like this the first time."

The first time? Ano 'to, time loop? Hallucination? Fever dream?

I sat down cautiously across from him, my eyes scanning every detail. The place was filled with oddly personal touches. A framed photo facing the wall. An old film camera on a shelf. A red scarf hung neatly by the door. The whole place screamed someone lived here, loved here, lost something here.

But the case file said this apartment was untouched. Vacant since 2020. Condemned for "psychological contamination" due to the death of its last owner. The same person I'm supposed to be investigating.

"Do you live here?" I asked.

"Sometimes," he answered. "When you let me."

"What does that even mean?"

He chuckled, low and soft. "You're funnier this time. I like that."

I blinked. "Okay. Do you say that to all your detectives?"

He leaned forward, gaze gentle. "No. Just you."

And there it was again, that twist in my chest. Like my heart recognized him, but my brain couldn't keep up. I sipped the coffee, unsure why my hands were shaking. Maybe caffeine. Maybe something else.

"So you're not Elijah?" I asked again.

He didn't answer right away. Just looked at me like he was waiting.

Waiting for me to remember something I didn't even know I forgot.

Finally, he said, "Maybe you should come back tomorrow. You never remember everything on the first day."

The first day of what?

"Are you messing with me?" I stood, defensive. "Because I have no time for weird mind games. If you know something about this case, tell me now. I'm investigating the man who died in this apartment. Five years ago."

He stood, too. And this time, I saw something shift in his face.

Not fear. Not surprise.

Sadness. Like I said something that broke him. Again...

"You really don't know," he whispered.

"I don't know what?" I demanded.

He looked at me with eyes that carried the weight of too many goodbyes.

"You're not here to solve the case, Mira," he said gently.

"You're here because... you never wanted to let me go."

And I just stood there. Holding a mug of coffee I never asked for, inside an apartment that shouldn't feel this familiar, talking to a man whose name I wasn't even sure of but whose voice was beginning to live in a part of my chest that had been quiet for years.

"Okay," I said, trying to laugh it off. "You're definitely messing with me. Are you, like, a failed poet? May pagkasenti ka. Mysterious. Kulang na lang, umulan sa loob ng unit mo."

That earned a smile. Small, tired, but real.

"I missed that. The way you pretend you don't feel anything," he said.

Okay, what the actual hell?

I took a step back. "You're talking like we... know each other. Like we had something. And I'm telling you, I'd remember if we did." i awkwardly laugh.

He didn't say anything this time. Just walked toward the piano sa corner ng sala. Dustless. Tuned. Ginagamit.

He sat.

And started playing.

The melody was simple. Pauli-ulit. Familiar. Bittersweet. Like a childhood lullaby you only remember when you're sick.

I stood there, not moving, not breathing, as something cracked inside me.

My hands went cold. My chest felt tight.

"I... know that song," I whispered.

He just nodded, still playing. "You used to hum it when you couldn't sleep."

I looked around the apartment again.

The red scarf by the door. The coffee mug with a tiny chip on the rim. The books on the shelf, mostly fiction, mostly marked with page tabs. The mirror sa hallway half-covered by a thin white cloth.

All of it.

All of this.

It didn't just feel familiar.

It felt like mine.

No. Not mine. Ours.

I stared at him. "Who are you?"

He stopped playing.

Then slowly, he turned to me. This time, no cryptic smile. No teasing.

Just honesty. Sharp and heavy and quiet.

"I'm the man you're trying to bring back," he said.

My heart dropped.

"What?"

"You keep coming back here," he continued. "With a badge. With a file. With the same questions. But never with the truth."

"You're not making sense," I whispered.

"You think this is a case," he said. "But it's grief, Mira."

That stopped me cold.

"You're not here to investigate me."

He stood. Walked to the wall. Turned over the picture frame that had been facing backward the whole time.

And I saw it.

A photo of me.

With him.

Smiling.

Happy.

Alive.

"You're here," he said quietly, "because you still think I can be saved."

My hands trembled. "No... no, that can't..."

"And you always leave," he added, "before you remember."

I took a step back. "You're not real."

He didn't argue. He just looked at me.

And for a split second, I could feel it, that maybe, once upon a time, I had loved this man so deeply that losing him broke something I never knew I had.

And before I could speak again

I blinked.

And the apartment was empty.

No man.

No music.

No second mug of coffee.

Just me.

Holding a case file for a faceless corpse, in an abandoned unit no one had lived in for years.

I should've filed a report.

I should've written a memo, contacted HQ, or kahit i-Google man lang 'yung name niya.

But no. Mira Valerio, rising detective, decided to do the dumbest possible thing.

Kinabukasan, bumalik ako.

To Apartment Thirteen B.

Again.

Without backup. With a donut.

Because apparently, that's how you deal with emotionally unsettling multo-level men now.

Pagdating ko sa 13th floor, tahimik pa rin. Walang tao. Walang tunog. Pero 'yung dibdib ko? Ang lakas ng t***k.

I raised my hand to knock, but before I could

"You're early today," a calm voice said from behind me.

Napatalon ako.

"Gago ka!" I blurted out, hawak ang dibdib ko. "May trauma ka ba sa doorbell?!"

He chuckled softly. "Good morning, Detective Valerio."

Tinalikuran ko siya. "Please stop doing that."

He stepped forward, and for a second, I swear, naramdaman ko 'yung init ng katawan niya. Alive. Present. Real.

"You brought a donut," he noted, eyes flicking to the paper bag I was holding.

I squinted at him. "Wow, very observant. Dapat ikaw na lang ata 'yung detective dito, Elijah."

"Oh, so you remember my name today?"

I paused.

Wait.

"Did I... not remember it yesterday?" I asked, suddenly unsure.

His gaze softened. "No. But you're doing better."

Okay. That's not creepy at all.

Pumasok kami sa unit. Still clean. Still too quiet. Still that feeling na parang...parang 'yung hangin sa loob may laman ng alaala.

He motioned for me to sit. I did, awkwardly placing the donut bag on the table.

"Alam mo, ikaw 'yung unang suspect na nakita ko na may sariling aesthetic," I said, trying to keep it light. "Mahilig ka ba talaga sa dim lighting at kahoy na amoy mala-70s thriller movie?"

"I liked this place," he said simply, pouring coffee into mismatched cups. "It reminded me of you."

Pause.

"Excuse me?"

He smiled. "Calm exterior. Chaotic energy. Unpredictable warmth. Beautiful, in a slightly haunted way."

I blinked...Did I just get romantically roasted?

"Grabe 'yung insult na may kasamang kilig," I muttered.

"It wasn't an insult," he said, passing me the coffee. "It was a memory."

That word again.

Memory.

Like there was something I was supposed to know. Like I was a guest in my own past.

"So..." I began, stirring my coffee kahit wala namang asukal. "Naalala ko lang na wala pa rin akong idea kung sino ka talaga."

"You say that every time."

I stared. "Every time? Anong every time? Ilang beses na ba 'ko bumalik dito?"

"Too many," he said quietly.

My heart thudded.

"You're seriously making me feel like I have amnesia," I said, half-joking.

He didn't laugh. Just looked at me like he wanted to hold something back but didn't know how to.

"You don't have amnesia, Mira," he said. "You just don't want to remember."

Click.

Tumingin ako sa hallway. May narinig akong parang tunog ng camera.

Bigla akong tumayo. "What was that?"

He shook his head. "It's just the apartment. It keeps fragments."

Fragments? Ano 'to, memory museum?

I walked toward the hallway, where the old mirror was half-covered pa rin ng white cloth.

"Elijah," I said slowly. "What exactly happened here?"

Tahimik siya. Then, softly

"You happened."

Nilingon ko siya. His eyes were unreadable. His voice, soft. And in that silence, something inside me cracked a little.

"Kilala ba talaga kita?" I whispered.

He didn't answer.

But when I turned back to the mirror, I caught a glimpse of something behind the cloth.

Faint.

Blurry.

Two people.

Me.

And someone beside me.

Holding my hand.

Smiling.

Him.

But... grainy. Faded. Parang pilit binubura ng utak ko.

Tumalikod ako. "I need fresh air."

"Take your time," he said. "You always leave here confused the second time."

I stepped out.

But before the door shut behind me, I heard him whisper

"But you always come back, Mira. Because deep down, you never left."

Pagkalabas ko ng apartment, hindi na ako tumuloy sa HQ.

Saan ako magsusumbong? Sa boss kong sigurado akong sasabihing nababaliw na ako? O sa sarili kong utak na ayaw ko nang tanungin?

I walked. I rode the train. Pero kahit saan ako pumunta, nasa isip ko pa rin 'yung boses niya.

"You always come back, Mira."

Putangina.

Bakit ang bigat ng pangalan ko sa boses niya?

Naupo ako sa park bench, dala 'yung paper bag ng donuts na hindi ko na rin trip kainin.

May lamig sa hangin, pero hindi galing sa panahon.

Parang galing sa loob ko.

I watched people pass by. Magkakaibigan, mag-jowa, mga nagja-jogging. Normal sila. Real. Tapos ako, may kausap sa abandoned apartment na hindi ko pa rin sure kung multo, hallucination, o tulog lang talaga ako for days.

Am I going crazy? Or... what if it's not just in my head?

Pinikit ko sandali ang mga mata ko. Pilit kong inalala kung kailan nagsimula 'tong lahat. Kailan naging routine ang kakaiba?

At bakit kahit ang labo, hindi ko kayang hindi bumalik?

I went back the next day. At hindi na siya katulad ng una.

This time, I knocked.

I even brought a small potted plant. Kasi ang weird talaga. Parang gusto ko nang ayusin 'yung unit niya. O aminin na natin na parang gusto ko nang tumira doon.

Pagbukas ng pinto, andun siya.

Barefoot, naka-pambahay, may hawak na basang towel.

"You brought me a plant?" he asked, half-smiling.

"Hmm? Oh. Wala lang. Pang-display. Pangpatanggal multo vibes."

"That's ironic."

"Why?"

"Nothing." Pero kita ko sa mata niya na may ibig siyang sabihin.

I placed the plant sa windowsill.

Then I sat on the couch like I belonged there.

Na-realize ko lang, walang point magpanggap na hindi ako curious. Or... invested. Kasi kung hindi man siya real, then what the hell? At least, hindi ako mag-isa.

"Hey," I said.

"Yes?"

"Sino ba talaga ako sa 'yo?"

He looked up from the book he was reading. "You ask that question differently every time."

"Eh paano mo naman ako sasagutin this time?"

Tumayo siya. Lumapit. And I swear, every step he took made my chest tighten.

He crouched down in front of me and looked straight into my eyes.

"You're someone I never stopped waiting for."

and BOOM.

Saan galing 'yon?! Bakit parang sinuntok 'yung puso ko? At bakit parang gusto kong... maniwalaaaaa?????

The days passed. And I kept coming back.

Sometimes dala ko taho. Minsan sinigang in a plastic container. One time, sumama pa ako sa grocery para maghanap ng specific tea na gusto niya.

"Alam mo bang weird 'tong ginagawa natin?" I asked one night habang nagluluto kami ng pasta.

"What? Making dinner together?"

"No. Liking this."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why is that weird?"

"Because this shouldn't feel normal. Or safe. Or... masarap sa feeling."

He handed me the cheese grater. "But it does?"

"...Oo," I whispered. saka kami parehong natawa.

Minsan, sobrang tahimik naming dalawa. Wala kaming sinasabi. Ako nasa reading book niya. Siya, nasa piano.

But the silence? Hindi nakakailang.

It felt like we were building something.

Or rebuilding it.

Minsan, we'd argue about silly things. Like,

"Bakit hindi mo inuubos 'yung cereal mo? Sayang."

"Because soggy cereal is a crime."

"Ganyan ka ba talaga ka-O.C.?"

"You literally separated your M&M's by color last night."

"That's for aesthetic, not for morality."

Or

"Bakit wala kang sapatos sa loob?"

"Because the floor misses me."

"WTF?"

"You used to say the same thing."

At some point... I stopped going home.

I didn't mean to. Hindi ko sinadya.

Pero isang araw, habang nakahiga ako sa couch niya, naalimpungatan ako.

Kumot ko 'yung favorite niyang gray throw blanket. May mug ako ng tsaa sa gilid. At andun siya sa sahig, nakasandal sa cabinet, tulog habang hawak 'yung libro ko. Napangiti ako.

And for the first time in years...

I didn't feel alone.

That morning, habang kumakain kami ng pandesal, nagtanong siya.

"Do you still dream about the ocean?"

Napakunot noo ako. "Ocean?"

"You used to tell me you dreamed of drowning. But you said I always pulled you out."

My heart skipped.

"Lagi mo 'tong sinasabi," I murmured. "Pero hindi ko maalala kung totoo nga."

He paused. "Doesn't mean it's not real."

One evening, habang nasa balcony kami, malamig ang hangin, tahimik ang paligid.

"Bakit parang... napapamahal na ako sa 'yo?" I asked.

Hindi ko alam kung saan galing 'yon.

Spontaneous. Vulnerable.

But he didn't flinch.

"Because deep down, you already did."

I blinked. "What?"

"You already loved me, Mira. You just forgot how."