CHAPTER TWO
911 Words
The car ride was quiet except for the hum of the tires and the soft tapping of Mira’s fingers on her phone. Her mom sat beside the driver, humming, obviously nervous but excited.
Mira leaned her head against the window. The city outside changed from small stores and tricycles to long walls and neat trees. New place, new life, she thought. New… people.
“Anak,” her mom said, turning around, “excited ka na ba?”
“Hmm, siguro,” Mira said, shrugging. “Parang weird lang, Ma. Ibang bahay, ibang kasama.”
“Don’t worry. Mabait si Tito Randy,” her mom reassured. “Tsaka ‘yung anak niya, tahimik lang. Baka nga maging close kayo.”
“Close?” Mira smirked. “Sige, we’ll see.”
She put her earbuds in, pretending not to notice the flutter of anxiety in her chest as they drove through the gates of an unfamiliar village.
---
A tall white gate swung open to reveal a two-story house — glass, pale wood, too perfect. Mira stared out the window. Parang hindi totoo, she thought.
Her mom smiled. “Ang ganda, ‘no?”
“Hmm. Parang ayaw ko madumihan,” Mira muttered.
The car stopped. A man stood at the door, waving — Randy Villareal, her mom’s new husband. He looked kind, a little unsure himself. “Welcome, welcome!” he said warmly. “Finally, andito na kayo!”
Mira smiled politely, clutching her bag. “Hi po, Tito Randy.”
“Wag Tito, anak. ‘Tay na lang, kung okay lang sa’yo,” he said.
She hesitated. “Ah… sige po.”
Then, from the staircase, a voice interrupted—low, calm, but sharp.
“Dad.”
Mira turned. A young man stood there, tall, wearing a gray hoodie and an unreadable expression. His gaze landed on Mira — not curious, not friendly. Just assessing.
“Lance,” Randy said, beaming. “Si Mira, anak ni Tita Rose.”
“Yeah,” Lance said flatly. “Narinig ko.”
“Anak, tulungan mo sila sa gamit,” Randy continued.
Lance didn’t move. “Okay.” Then after a pause: “Pero kaya na nila, ‘di ba?”
“Lance,” Randy warned softly.
He sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked past them toward the car. Mira stepped back to let him pass. He didn’t look at her. Not once.
---
Mira’s new room was neat — too neat. Cream curtains, shiny floor, and a study table that looked unused. She placed her bag down carefully, afraid to mess anything up.
Her mom peeked in. “Anak, okay ba?”
“Oo naman, Ma. Parang hotel.”
Rose smiled. “At least comfortable ka.”
“Hmm,” Mira said. “Kaso parang... parang hindi ako dapat dito.”
“Don’t say that.” Her mom brushed her hair gently. “Give it time.”
From the hallway, a knock. Lance appeared in the doorway, holding a small box.
“’To, naiwan sa kotse,” he said.
“Ah, salamat—”
He set it down on the floor, not waiting for her to finish. “Wala na ‘yan lahat?”
“Uh, oo,” she said, uncertain.
“Good.” Then he turned and left without another word.
Mira stared at the door after it closed. “Wow,” she muttered. “Friendly guy.”
---
Dinner smelled like adobo and garlic rice. The table was too big for four people, and the silence between bites felt even bigger.
“So Mira,” Randy began cheerfully, “kumusta ang biyahe?”
“Okay naman po,” she said, smiling faintly. “Mahaba lang.”
“Lance, tulungan mo si Mira bukas mag-ikot dito sa village, ha?”
Lance didn’t look up. “Busy ako bukas.”
Randy frowned. “Hindi ka pa nagka-class schedule.”
“May gagawin pa rin ako,” he replied, voice calm but clipped.
The air turned awkward. Rose glanced at Mira and smiled weakly. “No rush, anak. Kami na lang muna ni Mira.”
“Fine,” Lance said, still not looking up.
Mira bit her lip. “Ayos lang po. Baka naman ayaw niya akong samahan kasi baka mawala ako sa village.”
Her tone was teasing, trying to lighten the mood.
Lance’s eyes lifted—cold, steady. “Hindi. Ayaw ko lang magkunwaring close tayo.”
The table went silent.
“Lance,” Randy said sharply.
“It’s fine,” Mira cut in, forcing a smile. “At least honest siya.”
She pushed rice around her plate. Rose reached over and touched her hand under the table, a silent comfort. Randy sighed and changed the topic.
The rest of dinner was just the sound of clinking utensils.
---
Later, Mira stood by her window, looking down at the garden lit by the outdoor lamps. From below, she could see Lance at the patio, talking to his dad quietly.
Randy’s voice was calm, Lance’s low and tense. She couldn’t make out words, but the stiffness in Lance’s posture said enough. He didn’t want this new family setup. He didn’t want her.
When he finally went inside, he didn’t glance at her window — but she turned away anyway, heart heavy.
The house was beautiful, but every sound — the ticking clock, the footsteps, the faint closing of Lance’s door — felt like reminders that she wasn’t really welcome.
- Writer
