Apartment Thirteen B

13-B V

Kinabukasan, Caspian was quieter than usual.

We ate breakfast together. Tahimik.

He asked for coffee twice, pero nakalimutan niyang nagawa na niya 'to.

He didn’t notice the toast was burnt.

He just… stared at the piano.

“Do you want to play?” tanong ko, trying to sound casual.

He nodded.

But when he sat down and placed his fingers on the keys

He froze.

“Mira,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“I can’t remember how to play.”

I rushed to his side.

“You were just playing yesterday…”

He looked at me, scared.

“I was. But now, it’s like my hands remember… but my brain doesn’t.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

I pulled out everything I had left from the case. Files. Notes. Photos. Letters.

I started looking into things I didn’t question before.

Like Elijah’s last few weeks.

And the people he met.

I stumbled upon a name I had almost missed.

Project STILL

A confidential document, hidden within a scanned email from an old university lab.

Subject line: Behavioral Experiment Proposal Subject: Alvarez, E.

At first, I thought it was a school project.

But the deeper I read…

The creepier it became.

The file mentioned Memory storage, Personality mapping, Neural transfer trials, Genetic compatibility

And the last page had two names

E. Alvarez - deceased

C. V. Ortega - viable vessel

Caspian’s full name is Caspian Veres Ortega.

My heart dropped.

Tumayo ako, nalamigan.

Was Caspian a donor match? Was he part of something bigger? Was someone trying to keep Elijah alive through him?

Hindi na ito basta trauma.

Hindi na ito basta soul connection.

This was science. And someone played God.

The last page of the file had a handwritten note,

"Phase I successful. Subject exhibiting early signs of cross-memory transfer.

Maintain distance from former partner. Risk of re-attachment: HIGH."

My hands shook.

I looked at Caspian dozing lightly on the couch, holding the same photo of me and Elijah.

And I whispered to myself

Who did this to you?

Hindi na ako mapakali buong gabi.

I stared at the files.

Then at Caspian.

Then sa salamin.

As if looking at my reflection could explain how far I’ve fallen into this… this twisted loop of grief and rebirth.

Kinabukasan, I went to an old contact.

Dr. Imelda Reyes, dating forensic scientist turned tech consultant. Wala siyang alam tungkol sa Project STILL, pero nung pinakita ko ang document...

Tahimik siya.

Tapos sabi niya, “This isn’t psychological. This is neurological.”

“Explain,” I said, kahit nanginginig na ako.

“May mga research facilities ngayon, secretly backed by elite families, experimenting with memory re-mapping,” she said. “They’re trying to copy memory patterns and transfer them to compatible brains.”

Parang… flash drive.

But human.

Memory transplantation.

“Volunteers?” tanong ko.

“Sometimes,” sagot niya. “Pero most of the time… hindi nila alam.”

I clenched my fists.

“So you’re telling me Caspian...?”

“He could be carrying someone else’s neural echo.”

“Why him?” I whispered. “Why Elijah?”

She stared at me.

“You said the file came from a foundation, right?”

“Valerio Foundation,” I said quietly.

My father’s name.

Of course.

Of course it all ties back.

I dug deeper.

Pinuntahan ko ang lumang Valerio-funded lab in Tagaytay. Abandoned na raw, but still registered under an alias company na Veridian Biotech.

I posed as a consultant.

Bribed the guard.

And broke in through the back.

Inside, the lab was dusty. But the cold air was still running.

Files everywhere.

Glass containers.

And then

I found a drawer labeled “FAILED VESSELS.”

My stomach turned.

I opened it.

Inside were photographs of men. Dozens. Lahat may code names. Dates. Notes like “REJECTED” or “MALADAPTIVE.”

But one photo stopped me.

Caspian V. Ortega - PHASE II: Stable.

Stable.

Not random.

Chosen.

And worse?

Nasa ilalim ng photo niya, hand-written

“Mira Valerio proximity increasing neural coherence. Continue exposure.”

I staggered back.

I was part of the plan.

Hindi lang nila nilikha si Caspian.

Ginamit nila ako to anchor him.

Napaluhod ako.

This wasn’t love.

Or fate.

This was a machine wrapped in romance, designed by men who believed they could rewrite grief.

Caspian wasn’t Elijah.

But someone wanted him to be.

And I?

I was the key.

Nang makabalik ako sa apartment, gabi na.

Dala ko ang mga ebidensyang ayokong makita.

Laman ng bag ko ang kasinungalingan ng mga lalaking naglaro sa buhay namin. At nasa loob ng bahay ang taong minahal ko nang dalawang beses sa iisang katawan.

Caspian greeted me with a smile.

Pagod. Pilit. Pero totoo.

“Mira,” he said. “Where did you go?”

“Work,” I answered. Half-lie.

“You okay?”

I nodded. Full lie.

He was making tea. Wearing a loose shirt. Messy hair.

I used to find this image comforting. Now, all I could hear was the word “stable.” All I could see was the file that said “Continue exposure.”

But when he handed me my mug, our fingers touched.

And his skin was warm.

Too warm to be a ghost.

Too real to be just a vessel.

“Are you… still remembering things?” tanong ko.

He nodded. “Bits and pieces. Pero minsan, nalilito ako kung memory ko ba ‘yun o panaginip.”

He looked down.

“I saw you in a white dress. You were crying. I was playing the violin in front of an empty church.”

My heart broke a little.

That was real.

Our last goodbye before Elijah’s death.

“Do you think I’m going crazy?” tanong niya.

I took a long breath.

And said the truth I’d been choking on

“No. I think… you’re remembering things you were never supposed to have.”

Tahimik siya.

And then

“Is that bad?”

I stared at him.

At the man who shouldn’t exist, but somehow filled every empty space in me.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But I think… someone wanted you to become him.”

His eyes slowly lifted to mine.

“You think I’m… Elijah?”

“No,” I said firmly. “You’re Caspian. But they used him to build you.”

He backed away slightly.

Like my words were poison.

“So… I’m not real?” I reached for his hand.

“You are. You’re here. You feel. You choose.”

“But what if everything I feel for you is just… residue?”

I didn’t know how to answer that.

So I didn’t.

Instead, I placed his hand over my chest.

“This is real,” I said. “Kahit sinong ginaya nila. Kahit anong pinilit nilang gawin. What I feel for you, now, you, that’s mine.”

He looked at me, eyes glassy.

Then whispered

“Then let me stay, Mira. Even if I’m borrowed. Even if I’m wrong. Just let me be the version that stayed.”

And right then, I broke.

Because I realized

He was never trying to replace Elijah.

He just didn’t want to disappear again.

So I held him.

Tighter than before.

And I promised

“If they made you to break me then they failed. Because I love you…even if it kills me.”

Nang dumating ang gabi, pareho kaming tahimik.

Walang tanong. Walang drama.

Just this thick, unsaid tension between us like we were two ghosts trapped in the same body.

“I want to remember,” he whispered.

“Then let’s make something you’ll never forget,” I said.

I pulled him by the wrist and brought him to the kitchen.

“Do you trust me?” tanong ko.

Caspian smirked. “I let you ruin my whole identity. What’s next?”

I opened the fridge.

And pulled out a bottle of honey truffle glaze.

“Are we cooking?” he asked, teasing.

“No,” I whispered. “We’re preserving.”

Back in the bedroom, I made him sit on the edge of the bed.

He watched me chest rising, pupils blown while I crawled between his legs with the small gold jar in hand.

“What are you planning?” bulong niya, breathless.

I dipped my fingers into the dark, sticky glaze.

The scent is sweet, expensive, a little sinful.

Then I traced a line of it down the center of his chest.

From his throat… down to his navel.

“I’m going to write a memory,” I said.

“One that isn’t Elijah’s.”

He inhaled sharply.

“I want you to taste me like I’m a secret no one’s allowed to remember but you.”

His hands clenched the sheets.

I stood, dipped two fingers again, and slid them beneath my panties.

He watched me with his mouth open, chest rising fast as I touched myself with the honey.

Then I smeared it across my inner thigh.

And whispered, “Come and learn me.”

He didn’t hesitate.

He dropped to his knees, gripped my thighs, and devoured me like a man trying to memorize every inch of paradise before heaven closed the gates.

His tongue followed the trail I left, sticky and sweet.

The way he moaned? Parang adik sa alaala.

Like he wanted to overdose on the taste of me.

“Say it,” I begged, breathless. “Say you’ll never forget this.”

“Mira,” he growled, licking deeper, rougher. “I’d rather die again than forget how you taste.”

His tongue moved like a slow burn, messy, greedy, obsessed. The honey mixed with me, a flavor only he’d ever know.

Then he pulled back, lips swollen, chin glazed, and said

“You don’t need to rewrite me, Mira. You already branded me.”

He threw me onto the bed, crawled over me, and this time when he entered me, it wasn’t gentle.

It was wild. Claiming. Desperate.

Like he was saying If I was built from someone else’s shadow then let me fck you like I’m the sun.

Our bodies slammed together, sheets twisted, honey smearing between us.

Every thrust was messy.

Every kiss was filthy.

Every word was moaned into skin like scripture.

When we both shattered sweaty, sticky, completely ruined, he kissed my lips and whispered

“From now on, every time you taste honey… you’ll remember who made you scream like there's no tomorrow.”

I kissed his neck.

“No one else could’ve written this story.”

The morning after our night together, I woke up alone in bed.

I could still smell him on my skin, honey, sweat, fire.

I smiled for a second.

Then I saw the envelope.

It was on the floor. Slid under the apartment door.

Plain white. No address. No markings.

Just my name.

MIRA, all caps. In handwriting I knew by heart.

Elijah’s.

My fingers trembled as I opened it.

Inside is a single USB. Gold. Worn.

And a note

"Play this alone. And only once."

I didn’t tell Caspian.

Not yet.

He was in the kitchen, humming a song he probably didn’t know came from Elijah’s old playlist.

I kissed his cheek and said I had to “check something for work.”

He smiled, unbothered.

I went straight to my old laptop and plugged the USB in.

The screen flickered.

Then static.

Then

Elijah.

He looked tired.

Unshaven. Paler than usual. Eyes heavy, like he hadn’t slept in days.

He was in a hotel room. The curtains behind him were drawn.

He took a deep breath, looked into the camera, and spoke.

"If you’re seeing this… then I’m gone."

My heart stopped.

“And if Caspian is with you… then they succeeded.”

He laughed bitterly. Shaky.

“They tried to keep me alive through something called Project STILL They mapped my neural patterns. They said they just needed a compatible vessel. Someone whose brain could ‘carry’ me.”

“I didn’t agree. I ran. I tried to disappear.”

“But you know how your father is, Mira. What he starts… he finishes.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks.

This wasn’t just a goodbye.

It was a confession.

“They wanted to copy me. But they didn’t want the broken parts, just the genius, the charm, the obsession with you.”

“So if Caspian is there… I don’t know if he’s me, or some version they wanted me to be.”

“But Mira, don’t punish him. He didn’t choose this.”

My chest clenched.

“Love him. Not because he looks like me. Not because he feels familiar. But because he might be the only good thing they accidentally made.”

He paused.

And for the first time… he cried.

“I hated the idea of someone else touching you.”

“But I also hated the idea of you being alone.”

He wiped his eyes. Smiled.

“So if I couldn’t be the one to stay… then maybe he can.”

“Goodbye, Mira. Thank you… for every version of love we ever had.”

The screen went black.

I stared at it.

Then unplugged the USB. Threw it across the room.

And fell apart.

Because in that moment, I knew

Caspian wasn’t Elijah.

But Elijah was the reason Caspian existed.

And somehow, both of them loved me enough…

To let the other one stay.

I kept the truth for exactly 6 hours.

Then he found the USB.

Caspian was cleaning the bedroom when I heard a low, quiet voice from the living room.

“Why is there a video of him on your laptop?”

My body locked.

I stepped out. There he was. USB in hand. Pale. Shaking. Eyes wide, like he was trying not to break.

I opened my mouth, but he held up a hand.

“Don’t lie, Mira. Please. Just this once, I want something real.”

I nodded.

And I told him everything.

From the envelope. To the message. To Elijah’s goodbye.

He listened. He sat on the couch like his knees were about to give out.

And then

He laughed.

Low. Empty.

“So I’m a living letter,” he said. “A last love letter from a dead man who couldn’t finish his goodbye.”

“Caspian…” I moved closer, but he flinched.

“You said I was mine. You said I was real.”

“You are.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m wearing someone else’s skin every time I look at you?”

Silence.

He stood, pacing.

“Everything makes sense now. The flashes. The grief. The way I loved you before I even knew how.”

He looked at me with trembling eyes.

“Was any of it mine?”

I walked up to him. Held his face.

“This, right now is. I didn’t fall in love with Elijah again. I fell in love with you.”

He swallowed hard. Jaw tight.

“But maybe I don’t want to be your second love.”

He pulled away. Just slightly.

“What if I want to be someone, Mira? Not just an echo?”

I froze.

Because this wasn’t about me anymore.

“I need to know who made me,” he whispered. “Who decided I should carry someone else’s soul instead of making my own.”

My heart dropped.

“You’re not going to leave… are you?”

He looked at me, eyes soft, conflicted.

“I love you,” he said. “But right now, I don’t even know if I’m capable of making that choice.”

And with that

Caspian packed a bag.

Not much.

Just a few clothes.

His notebook.

The photo of us.

And the truffle honey jar.

Then left.

Pagkasara ng pinto, tahimik lang.

Walang yapak. Walang goodbye. Wala ring pangakong babalik siya.

At naiwan ako sa sala. Nakaupo. Nakatitig sa kawalan, habang hawak ko pa 'yung tasa ng tsaa na hindi ko nainom.

Truffle scent still lingering in the air. Parang multo. Parang siya.

Sinubukan kong tumawa. Yung pilit, yung parang ewan, yung parang baliw. Ganito pala talaga kapag ikaw na lang 'yung naiwan.

He took the photo of us sa park.

Yung candid na kuha, na pinilit kong i-print kahit pixelated.

He also took the notebook yung may sulat ko, doodle niya, mga kwentong ‘di naman niya maalala.

At ‘di ko alam kung tatawa o iiyak ako…

Kasi binitbit niya rin ‘yung truffle honey jar. Yung naging lasang-alaala namin.

I spent the next few days in auto-pilot.

Papasok sa work, pero hindi talaga present. Minsan ‘di ko namamalayan, nasa harap na pala ako ng Apartment 13B, naka-pambahay, bitbit ‘yung susi… pero wala na siya doon.

Wala na talaga.

I tried not to call.

Sabi ko sa sarili ko

Bigyan mo siya ng oras. Bigyan mo siya ng reason na piliin ang sarili niya muna.

Pero gabi-gabi, lumalabas pa rin ako sa balcony. Hawak ‘yung phone. Screen lit, name niya naka-save pa rin as

“Caspian / maybe real, always mine”

Nang dumating ang ikalimang gabi, that’s when I broke again.

Tulog na ‘yung buong building. Ako lang ang gising at nakaupo sa sahig ng banyo, hawak ‘yung truffle honey na naiwan niyang takip.

“Tangina mo, Caspian,” I whispered, trying not to cry.

“Hindi ka nga multo… pero ginhost mo pa rin ako.”

I laughed. I sobbed. I hated how much I loved him within a short amount of time. And for a moment, I wanted to forget him completely.

Pero kinabukasan, dumating ang sulat.

Walang return address. Walang sender.

Just a white envelope, taped to my door. At sa harap, may sulat-kamay

“Don’t look for him. They’ll find you next.”

Tumigil ako saglit sa harap ng pinto.

Hawak ko pa rin 'yung envelope. Puting sobre. Walang tatak. Walang pangalan.

Pero 'yung sulat sa harap? Pamilyar ang sulat-kamay. Pero hindi ko ma-pinpoint kung saan ko na siya nakita.

"Don’t look for him. They’ll find you next."

Pinunit ko agad ang sobre. Walang laman kundi 'yung mismong papel. No hidden message. No code. Pero may amoy na kakaiba. Parang lumang kahon. Parang lumang case file.

At sa gilid ng papel, may maliit na ink stain. Circular. Like a coffee mug. Na parang sinadya.

Kinilabutan ako.

Hinila ko ang hoodie ko at umupo sa sahig. Sinara ko ang blinds. Pinatay ko 'yung ilaw sa sala. Hindi ko alam kung bakit, pero parang may nanonood.

Minsan kasi 'yung instincts mo, kahit wala pang ebidensya, totoo na agad.

Tumayo ako at binuksan ang lumang kahon ng mga files sa ilalim ng kama. Doon ko tinago lahat ng records tungkol kay Elijah, Project STILL, at 'yung mga side cases ko na connected sa Veridian.

Tinanggal ko lahat. Isa-isa kong binuklat. Sinuri 'yung sulat-kamay. Hindi tugma.

Pero then I found it.

Sa isang luma at confidential file mula sa first internal memo ng Veridian, may handwritten note sa gilid. Red ink.

Same handwriting. Same sharp curves.

Ang sumulat?

Dr. Lucian Mercurio.

Bumilis ang t***k ng puso ko.

Kilala ko ang pangalan na 'yan. Siya 'yung lead scientist na supposedly nagdisappear after the fall of Project STILL.

And now… he knew where Caspian was.

Kinabukasan, pumasok ako sa opisina.

Wala akong assignment that day. Pero nagkulong ako sa archive room, dinala lahat ng files ko, at nagsimulang mag-compile ng timeline.

May three names akong nilista

Elijah Alvarez

Lucian Mercurio

Caspian Veres Ortega

At sa bawat pangalan, may string ng tanong.

Lahat walang kasiguraduhan.

Pero isa lang ang sigurado, may koneksyon silang tatlo sa isa't isa.

Paglabas ko ng opisina, may napansin akong sasakyang naka-park sa kabilang kanto.

Dark-tinted windows. Same car na nakita ko two nights ago nung pauwi ako. Akala ko nagkataon lang.

Pero ngayon, hindi na ako sigurado.

I called Caspian.

Still no answer.

Pero bago ko pa maibaba ang phone, may nag-pop up na email sa inbox ko. No subject. No address.

Just an attachment.

Filename: veres_protocol_witness.mp4

Hindi ko na inisip.

Binuksan ko agad.

At ang unang lumabas sa screen?

Ako.

Inside a white room. Hooked to wires. Crying.

Recording date: Two years ago.

Kung Ako 'Yun sa Video, Ano na Lang Ako Ngayon?

Hindi ako agad nakagalaw.

Nakatingin lang ako sa screen habang umiikot 'yung loading bar. Pero kahit hindi pa nagsisimula ang video, nanlamig na ang buo kong katawan.

Bakit ako? Anong ginagawa ko sa video? At bakit two years ago?

Tumigil ang loading. Play button.

Nag-click ako.

Lumabas agad ang imahe. Maliwanag ang kwarto, clinical white, parang laboratory. Naka-gown ako, mukha kong pagod, nanginginig, umiiyak habang may kung anong nakakabit sa ulo ko. May wires sa sentido, sa dibdib, parang pinapadaan sa akin ang signal na hindi ko maintindihan.

Sa background, may lalaking naka-coat. Hindi kita ang mukha. Pero naririnig ko ang boses niya.

"Subject 013. Memory loop stable. Still rejecting origin trigger."

Ako 'yung subject?

Biglang tumingin ang version ko sa camera. Diretso sa lente. Parang nakatingin sa'kin ngayon.

"Kung maririnig mo 'to, Mira," bulong niya, ng ako. "Wag mong hayaang ulitin nila 'to. Wag mong hayaang kunin siya."

Tumigil ang screen. Glitch. Nag-black.

Then one last message appeared, white text on black background

PROJECT STILL: VERES LOOP IS ACTIVE

Napaatras ako sa upuan. Nalaglag 'yung phone.

May parte sa utak ko na gustong sabihin na peke lang 'yon. Old footage. Faked memory. Pero kilala ko ang sarili ko.

At 'yung boses ko... punong-puno ng takot.

Tumayo ako, agad hinanap 'yung backup flash drives ko, binalikan lahat ng records ko from two years ago. Pero may timeline gap. Mga apat na buwan na walang trace ng kahit anong report, kahit anong fieldwork.

Bakit ko 'yun hindi napansin noon?

Sinubukan kong hanapin sa database ng agency namin. Internal logs. HR records. Wala. As if na-erase 'yung buong