Apartment Thirteen B

13-B IV

The old chapel smelled like candles, dust, and grief that overstayed its welcome.

At nandoon siya.

Naka-upo sa sirang pew, tucked in like a lost child.

May gitara sa tabi.

Luhang hindi niya alam kung saan nanggagaling.

But the worst part?

He looked at me like he knew me.

“You’re the woman in my dreams.” That’s what he said.

And my breath left my body like it didn’t need me anymore.

He was thinner than Elijah. His hair longer. Skin paler. But his eyes

God, his eyes were the same.

And the way he stared,

like I was the only real thing in the world?

That was Elijah.

“Do I… know you?” he asked, voice rough, as if every word scraped something raw inside his throat.

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say you knew me so deeply, you took my heart with you when you died.

Pero ang nasabi ko lang ay “Detective Mira Valerio.”

Businesslike. Robotic. Safe.

Kasi kung may isang bagay akong natutunan mula sa grief?

Truth can break you all over again.

He blinked slowly.

“You’re… real.”

“Realer than I’ve been in a while.”

“I thought…you were a recurring dream. You cry a lot in it.”

Napakagat ako sa loob ng pisngi ko. I was either going to laugh or cry. So I did both.

“You always play Clair de Lune in mine,” I whispered.

Napatingin siya.

“I don’t know why I know that song. Or why it feels like… it belongs to someone I loved and lost.”

I took a step forward.

He didn’t flinch.

Pero kita ko ‘yung tension sa katawan niya. Para bang he was bracing for something to not shatter.

Not me.

Himself.

“There are nights,” he said, “when I wake up crying. And I don’t even know why. Parang… may kulang. Parang may parte ng puso ko na nasa ibang buhay.”

“What else do you feel?” tanong ko, barely breathing. He looked at me, helpless.

“Like I’ve loved someone before…and I can’t remember her name. Just… the ache.”

That’s when I broke.

I slowly sat beside him, leaving just enough space. No contact.

I didn’t want to force familiarity. But I needed to be near him. I needed to feel the air we shared.

“May minahal ako dati,” I started, voice shaking.

“Mahilig siya sa tsaa. Sa classical music. He said he hated romance novels but he secretly read them during thunderstorms.”

His lips curled, like he didn’t know if he was smiling or hurting.

“That… sounds like me.”

I reached into my coat pocket.

Pulled out Elijah’s letter, crumpled from too many rereads.

“This was his. I want you to read it.”

Nag-atubili siya. But then his fingers brushed mine.

And in that second

I felt something.

Not electricity. Not magic.

Just… recognition.

Like the universe whispered, "See? You were right to hope."

Tahimik siyang nagbasa. Each line like a thread tying him to someone he couldn’t remember but clearly carried in his soul.

At nung natapos siya?

When he reached the last line

"You’re the only person who ever made dying feel like something I’d do again."

Napapikit siya.

At isang expression ang dumaan sa mukha niya.

Not fear. Not confusion. Just pain. Familiar pain.

“I’ve felt this before,” he whispered. “These words… I’ve thought them. But I never wrote them.”

I didn’t respond.

Because what could I say?

That I buried Elijah. That I mourned him. Broke for him. Lost myself in the process. That now, he’s here… and not here.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he said, quietly. And gently, I reached for his hand.

“No rush,” I told him. “You don’t have to know yet.” I looked into his eyes.

“But if any part of Elijah is still inside you…kahit anino lang…let me keep it with me.”

He didn’t speak right away. But after a moment

He nodded.

And in that chapel of ghosts and silence...Something felt alive again. We stayed inside the chapel until the sky turned golden.

Hindi kami masyadong nag-usap. Wala na kasing kailangang sabihin sa ngayon. Ako, pinipilit kong huwag mahulog ulit. Siya, pinipilit alalahanin kung saan siya nahulog dati.

“Can I stay with you?” he asked, looking so unsure.

I wanted to say no. I should’ve said no.

But I didn’t.

The next morning, he stood by my apartment window, staring at the city like it was a stranger.

He made coffee. Mali ang ratio, masyadong mapait. But I drank it anyway.

“May mga flash,” sabi niya habang nakaupo sa couch.

“Flash?”

He nodded, staring at the steam in his cup.

“Images. Memories maybe. But they don’t feel like mine. May babae. Umiiyak. Palaging may ulan. Tapos may musika. Classical. Minsan may amoy ng libro.”

I held my breath.

“Elijah,” I whispered.

“Ikaw ang nasa memory?”

I didn’t answer. I just reached for his hand.

We started tracing the flashes.

Sa gabi, tinutugtog niya ‘yung pamilyar na piano pieces kahit hindi niya alam kung bakit kabisado niya.

Minsan, he’d sleep on the couch and mumble my name in his sleep.

Not Mira.

“Mimi.”

Elijah used to call me that.

No one else knew.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” he asked one night, both of us curled up on the floor, surrounded by old records and half-eaten ramen.

“No. But I believe in unfinished stories.”

For a moment, tahimik lang siya.

Then he said, “What if… I’m just a second draft of someone better?”

That broke me a little.

“You’re not a draft,” I whispered. “You’re the continuation.”

But peace never lasts long when you’re chasing ghosts.

And it started again with something small.

A picture frame on my shelf, our photo fell. No wind. No movement. It just…dropped.

Then the file I kept of Elijah’s case? Gone.

And when I checked my laptop?

The folder was still there but every document had been replaced with one word.

“STOP.”

I didn’t tell Caspian. Ayokong takutin siya.

But I started keeping the letter in my bag again. Just in case.

Because I knew that kind of message.

It wasn’t a glitch. It was a warning.

The next day, Caspian didn’t come home from the coffee shop.

I called.

No answer.

I waited until 10PM.

Nothing.

But when I opened the door to my apartment…There it was on the floor.

A second envelope.

Same paper. Same penmanship. But this one wasn’t from Elijah. It had no name. No signature. Just five words inside

“He was never meant to remember.”

That night, hindi ako nakatulog. I stared at the second envelope, paulit-ulit binabasa ‘yung limang salitang laman nito

“He was never meant to remember.”

Sinong nagsulat nun? At bakit? More importantly, Bakit ngayon? Bakit sa kanya?

The next morning, I went to the café where Caspian said he'd hang out.

“Umalis siya after lunch kahapon,” sabi ng barista. “Pero may iniwan siya sa table. For you, I think.”

She handed me a folded napkin.

Shaky handwriting. Still his.

"Mira, may sumunod sa akin. Don’t come looking if you care."

I didn’t follow instructions.

Of course I didn’t.

I checked nearby CCTV. One camera, nakaharap sa alley sa likod ng café, caught a man following him. Tall. Covered face. Black hoodie. Not Caspian.

But something about the walk…deliberate. Confident.

Sanay sa shadow work. Professional.

I traced Caspian’s last known signal, a cellphone ping in a nearby abandoned hospital, long shut down, rumored to be haunted.

Figures.

Because of course, the ghosts always return to the ruins.

I entered alone.

No gun. No partner. Just my flashlight and his name pounding in my chest.

“Caspian?”

Silence.

Then a low melody.

Familiar.

Clair de Lune.

I followed the sound to the old operating room.

There he was.

Nakatayo. Tulala. Hawak ang gitara, though he wasn’t playing it.

Naglalakad siya pabalik-balik. Whispering something under his breath.

I came closer.

“Mira,” he said, but not looking at me.

“It’s all wrong. It’s not mine. These aren’t my memories.”

My throat closed up.

“Caspian...”

He looked up.

His eyes were red.

And suddenly, he dropped the guitar and stumbled toward me.

“You have to help me forget him.”

“W-what?”

“Elijah. I see everything. His pain. His death. The guilt you carry. Lahat ng ‘yon nasa utak ko na ngayon.”

He clutched his head.

“And I can’t take it anymore.”

Tears stung my eyes.

“I didn’t mean to bring him back,” I whispered. “I didn’t even know it was possible”

“I don’t want to be him!” he shouted. “I want to be me. Whoever that is.”

I stepped forward, trying to touch him, but he backed away.

“You’re not falling for me, Mira,” he said, voice low.

“You’re falling for a memory.”

Silence.

Only the rain starting outside.

Only my heart breaking, again, and again.

“I loved Elijah,” I said, voice trembling.

“And maybe… part of me still does. But you’re not just his echo, Caspian. You’re here. You’re real.”

“But am I me, or just what’s left of him?”

He slumped down against the wall.

Bulong niya “What if I’m not supposed to exist?”

I sat beside him.

“No,” I whispered. “That’s not true. You’re not a mistake.”

He looked at me, eyes full of storm.

“Then why is someone trying to erase me?” I didn’t answer.

Because deep inside, I knew the real question was this

Was it someone else erasing him… or was it me because I couldn’t let Elijah go?

We left the hospital just before sunrise.

Caspian was quiet. Pale. Eyes distant.

I didn’t speak either.

Parang pareho kaming may dalang bangkay, hindi literal pero damang-dama. He was carrying a version of Elijah he never asked for.

Ako? I was carrying the guilt of dragging both of them back.

Sa apartment ko, he went straight to the window again.

That was his routine.

He liked silence. But not peace.

“Do you want to talk about last night?” I asked softly.

“Not yet,” he answered. “But… can we start somewhere?”

So we did. We started with the folder.

The original investigation. Camila’s case. Elijah’s case. The connections.

“Hindi mo napapansin?” I said. “The files, lahat ng may kinalaman kay Elijah, one by one, nawawala or nagiging corrupted.”

“I noticed,” sagot niya. “And I’m starting to think… he didn’t die clean.”

That struck me.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he paused, “maybe Elijah knew something he wasn’t supposed to. Or did something…that put him on someone’s list.”

We pulled up the names from Elijah’s final days. Contacts. Meetings. Cases he handled.

And one stood out.

Dr. Julian Mercer.

Private psychiatrist. Confidential. No public records. Only a name in a sticky note found inside Elijah’s violin case after his death.

I remember ignoring it before.

Thought it was nothing.

Now?

It felt like everything.

We searched for Dr. Mercer.

And found nothing official.

Until Caspian said something strange.

“Wait. That name… Julian Mercer… I think I’ve heard it in my sleep.”

I turned to him sharply.

“How?”

“I don’t know. Minsan pag nananaginip ako, may boses. Male. Calm. Pero parang pinipilit akong makalimot. And I keep hearing the name Mercer.”

That night, Caspian fell asleep on my couch again.

I watched him.

His breath even. Hands twitching lightly.

Then suddenly

He whispered.

“Mira… don’t trust my father.”

My whole body froze.

I crouched beside him, shook his arm.

“Caspian?”

He stirred, confused. “Did I say something?”

“You said… Don’t trust my father.”

He blinked.

And whispered again

“But I don’t know who he is.”

I opened Elijah’s old journal that I never fully finished reading.

Flipped to the back cover.

And there, hidden beneath the inside flap, was one last scribbled line

“If anything happens to me, ask Mercer about the father who never claimed me.”

And just like that…The final piece began to form. Because Elijah always told me he was raised by a single mother.

But what if…

He knew who his father was all along and that man didn’t want to be found?

We found him.

Dr. Julian Mercer.

Sa isang lumang psychiatric center sa outskirts ng Rizal, naka-lista pa rin ang pangalan niya as Consultant Emeritus.

We pretended to be prospective clients.

Caspian didn’t have to pretend to look broken.

Ako? I was breaking in silence.

The clinic was too perfect.

White walls. Air freshener na amoy lavender.

Pero sa ilalim ng kaayusan, may lamig.

Yung tipong tahimik na masyado.

Parang may pinapatulog. O pinapatago.

Nung lumabas si Dr. Mercer, hindi agad kami nagsalita.

He was older. Calm. Too calm.

"Welcome. Please, come in."

He looked at Caspian first. And for a second…

Parang may kumurap sa mata niya.

Recognition?

Fear?

Something.

“Your name?” he asked.

“Caspian Alvarez,” he answered.

The doctor froze, only slightly.

But I saw it.

We sat.

“Why are you here?” he asked, tone professional.

Caspian glanced at me, then back at him.

“I’ve been… seeing things. Remembering memories that aren’t mine. A woman. Music. Pain.”

“I see. Do you believe these are past life visions?”

“No,” I interrupted. “We believe it’s a borrowed life. And we think you know why.”

Dr. Mercer looked at me.

Matagal. Tahimik.

Then he smiled.

Pero malamig.

“Ah. So you're the detective.”

I felt it. He knew. All along. About Elijah. About me. And about Caspian.

“You treated Elijah Alvarez before he died,” I said. “Why?”

Dr. Mercer leaned back, crossing his legs.

“Elijah came to me in confidence. He was searching. Desperate. He wanted to forget something.”

“Forget what?”

He paused.

Then said, “His father.”

Everything stopped.

Caspian’s hand slowly clenched beside me.

“And who was his father?” I asked, though I was scared of the answer.

Mercer smiled again.

“That’s complicated.”

“No,” I said. “It’s not. Who is he?”

The room felt smaller. Parang unti-unting sinasakal ang paligid.

And then he said it.

Flat. Sharp. Icy.

“Your father, Detective.”

My ears rang.

Caspian gasped.

And I...I couldn’t move.

“You’re lying,” I whispered.

“Am I?” he replied, too casually. “Did your father ever mention who he was before politics? Before your perfect family dinners?”

“No...”

“Exactly.”

Dr. Mercer stood.

“Elijah was the product of a choice your father buried. He came to me not because of trauma but because he couldn’t stand the truth that the man who hated him… had another daughter he actually claimed.”

I stared at him. At the man who said this like it was just therapy talk.

And that’s when Caspian said it

“So that’s why Mira’s father had him killed.”

Silence.

Even the walls seemed to hold their breath.

Mercer didn’t deny it. Just calmly said,

“Grief makes people do dangerous things. Especially powerful men.”

Pagkalabas namin ni Caspian sa clinic ni Dr. Mercer, hindi ko na maramdaman ‘yung katawan ko.

Parang ako ‘yung multo.

Caspian tried to hold my hand, pero tinanggihan ko.

Not because I didn’t want him. But because I needed to face this alone.

I dropped him off sa apartment. Hindi ko na hinintay ang tanong niya kung saan ako pupunta.

Alam na niya.

“Do you want me to wait up?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

I gave him a weak smile.

“No. This time, I don’t want anyone to see me break.”

I drove.

Pabalik sa mansyon na dati kong tinawag na tahanan.

Ngayon, para na siyang krimen na hindi pa tapos bayaran.

He was exactly where I expected him, sa study.

Tahimik. Neat. May baso ng mamahaling scotch sa kamay.

Parang wala lang. Parang hindi siya 'yung sinumpa ko sa korte.

“Mira,” he said, calmly. “Anak.”

Anak.

I winced.

That word had weight I no longer wanted to carry.

“Galing ako kay Dr. Mercer,” I said.

I didn’t sit. Hindi ako naparito para magpahinga.

His brow twitched, just slightly. “Ah.”

“You knew Elijah was your son.”

“Half-blood,” he corrected, sipping his drink. “A mistake.”

Mistake.

God, kung pwede lang sumigaw.

“Ang minahal kong tao,” I whispered, “was your mistake.”

“And yet,” he said, “you threw away your name, our name for him.”

“I didn’t throw it away. I cleaned it,” I snapped. “I stood on that witness stand. I told the world what I saw.”

“You destroyed me.”

“You destroyed yourself,” I fired back. “I just told the truth.”

He stood, slowly. Still calm.

“The world forgets, Mira. In time. Money speaks louder than guilt.”

“No,” I said. “Not this time.”

“You really believe justice was served?” he said, voice low. “You think prison humbles men like me?”

“I don’t care if it humbles you,” I said. “As long as you never breathe the same air as him again.”

Then I stepped closer.

“For the record, he didn’t die right away.”

His gaze shifted. Slightly.

“I held him while he bled out. He kept trying to say something.”

“I thought maybe it was ‘I love you.’ Or maybe ‘run.’ But now…”

My voice cracked.

“…I think it was your name.” His silence was the answer. Guilty. Cold. Untouched.

“You wanted to erase him,” I whispered. “But I kept him alive.”

I stepped back.

“In my memories. In my grief. In Caspian.”

That made him blink.

“What?”

“You didn’t just kill him,” I said. “You broke the universe so badly… it gave me a second chance.”

I turned to leave.

But before I stepped out the door, I said:

“You can keep your name, Dad. I’ll keep the love you tried to kill.”

And then I walked out.

Not a Valerio anymore. Just Mira. The woman who lost him once… but wouldn’t lose him again.

Pagbalik ko sa apartment, tahimik si Caspian.

He was sitting by the window again.

Same position. Same look in his eyes.

But something was different.

“I told him,” I said softly.

Caspian didn’t turn.

“You were right,” I added. “My father never saw Elijah as a son. Just… a threat.”

Still, no response.

Lumapit ako, dahan-dahan. I placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched. Parang hindi niya alam na ako ‘yon.

“Caspian?” I knelt beside him.

That’s when he looked at me.

His eyes were red. Lost. And something deeper...

Something hollow.

“You know what’s strange?” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Tell me.”

“I woke up today… and for a second, I didn’t know who I was.”

My throat tightened.

“I remembered a melody I’ve never played. A scent I’ve never known. And when I looked at your face, I felt…”

He hesitated.

“…grief. That wasn’t mine.”

I sat beside him.

“It’s Elijah’s,” I said. “And I think it’s bleeding into you.”

He shook his head.

“No. It’s more than that.”

He reached into his pocket and handed me something.

A folded photo.

Sepia-toned. A candid shot of me and Elijah laughing, tangled in blankets, young and alive.

“I found this in the drawer,” he said. “And when I looked at it…”

His voice cracked.

“…I felt jealous. Of myself.” It broke me. Because I knew that feeling too.

“Caspian,” I whispered, holding his hand, “you are not him. And I’m not trying to make you be him.”

“But you miss him.”

“I’ll always miss him.”

He nodded slowly.

“And maybe… I was created to remind you of what you lost.”

“No,” I said, firmer now.

“You were born. That’s different. That means something.”

“But what if this isn’t real?” he asked, eyes searching mine.

“What if everything between us… is just your grief dressed as love?”

I froze.

Because I’d asked myself that before.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t have the answers. But I know this”

I pulled his hand to my chest.

“This heartbeat? It still chooses you. Whatever name you go by.”

Tears blurred his vision. And for the first time in days…

He leaned forward and kissed me.

Slow. Hesitant. Warm.

Like a man trying to remember how it feels to be alive.

When we pulled away, he whispered

“Then promise me… you’ll choose me, even if I forget who I am.” I nodded, forehead against his.

“I will.”

But as I held him that night, I couldn’t shake the truth.

Every memory I helped him recover…

Might be one step closer to losing him completely.