Under The Same Umbrella

Chapter 1 ~ Mia Santos hated Tuesday nights. They were the in-between of the week too far from the weekend to be exciting, but already heavy with the exhaustion of Monday’s chaos. Add the sudden downpour that had flooded the streets of España, and it was just another reminder that life had a way of laughing at her. She adjusted her tote bag higher on her shoulder, shielding it with her half-broken umbrella as she ran toward the jeepney stop. A dozen other commuters were already squeezed under the narrow awning of a closed sari-sari store. The smell of wet asphalt and freshly cooked fishballs wafted through the air, mixed with the honking of impatient tricycles. A jeepney screeched to a halt, its sides plastered with faded stickers of “How is my driving?” and a hand-painted Jesus Saves sign above the windshield. Mia climbed in quickly, grateful for the shelter. Inside, the jeepney was dim, the yellowish bulb above casting shadows across passengers’ faces. She shuffled toward the far end, trying not to bump into knees and bags. And then she saw him. He was sitting across from her tall, with sharp cheekbones softened by a warm smile. His hair was damp from the rain, and droplets still clung to his jacket. A black umbrella, neatly folded, rested on his lap. Unlike the others who avoided eye contact, he met her gaze for just a second long enough to make her heart stutter. She quickly looked away, pretending to dig for coins in her purse. The jeepney rattled forward, wipers squeaking against the windshield. Outside, the rain came harder, drumming on the tin roof. Every turn splashed water against the windows. Halfway through the ride, Mia’s phone buzzed weakly in her hand 2% battery. She glanced at the message from Kara, her best friend: Kara: Girl, you better not get sick. U know your immune system is allergic to rain Before she could reply, her phone died. Typical. She sighed, staring out the window. A sharp turn jolted the jeepney, and her knee accidentally brushed against his. “Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice low but clear over the rain. There was a slight accent in his Tagalog not foreign, but maybe from another province. When the jeepney slowed near her street, she tapped the roof. “Para po.” She hopped off, immediately greeted by sheets of rain. Her broken umbrella was useless now, bending backward with each gust of wind. She groaned, hugging her tote bag close. The water was already pooling around her ankles. Then a shadow fell over her. “Miss,” a voice called from behind. She turned. It was him. He stood there holding his black umbrella, rain sliding off the edges in steady streams. He gave her a small smile. “Share tayo ng payong,” he said, tilting it toward her. “Mukhang mababasa ka ng todo.” She hesitated. Stranger danger and all that — but the rain was cold, and his tone was gentle, not pushy. “Uh… thanks,” she said, stepping under. The sudden warmth of being shielded from the downpour felt almost intimate. They started walking toward her street. The umbrella was big, but not big enough to keep them from brushing shoulders. “You’re not from here, no?” she asked, glancing at him. “Bakit mo nasabi?” he asked, amused. “Yung accent mo. Hindi Manila,” she said with a small smile. He chuckled. “Laguna. Pero dito na ako nagta-trabaho. Engineer ako sa Makati.” She nodded. “Graphic designer. QC lang ako.” They kept talking — about the traffic, the ridiculous flood levels, even about their favorite fishball sauce. It was easy. Too easy, Mia thought. When they reached her gate, he stopped. “By the way, Leo,” he said, extending his hand. “Mia,” she replied, shaking it. His hand was warm despite the cold rain. “Pwede kitang ihatid ulit… next time?” he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes. She bit back a smile. “We’ll see.” As she stepped inside, she caught herself glancing back. He was still there, umbrella in hand, watching to make sure she got in safely before walking away. Mia didn’t know it yet, but that rainy Tuesday had just rewritten the rest of her life.