Chapter 5
774 Words
Elara's POV
My life is a collection of things I've lost.
I don't have a childhood home; I have a memory of a fire. I don't have parents; I have a faded photograph I keep in the back of my sketchbook. Being an orphan means you learn early on that "permanence" is a lie. Everything can be taken—except for the skills in your hands and the person standing beside you.
Julián was my person.
Our apartment in Cubao is so small that the kitchen and the bedroom are basically the same thing. Ang amoy ng pintura at turpentine ay laging humahalo sa amoy ng kape. It's cramped, mainit kapag tanghali, at maingay dahil malapit kami sa LRT tracks. But for me, it was a palace.
"Elara, stop painting for a second. Kumain ka muna," Julián said, placing a bowl of pancit canton with a perfectly fried egg on my small drafting table.
I looked at him, his face smudged with charcoal. Julián Valerius. The man who should be sitting in a boardroom in Makati, but was instead working three jobs just to make sure I could finish my MBA.
"Juli, we're running low on the rent money for next month," bulong ko habang kumakain. "Maybe I should take more shifts sa gallery."
"No," he said firmly, taking my hand. His fingers were rough, a far cry from the manicured hands of Professor Ferrer. "You focus on St. Jude. Ako ang bahala. I'm selling two of my canvases to a collector this weekend. We'll be fine, Love. I promise."
Elara's POV
He was lying. I knew he was. I had seen the "Final Notice" from the electric company hidden under a pile of his sketches. I knew his father, Roberto Valerius, had cut him off completely, hoping the "stain of poverty" would force his son to crawl back and marry the debutante they had chosen for him. Julián gave up a billion-peso inheritance for me. How could I not love a man like that?
Every morning, sasakay kami sa luma niyang motor. Even when it was raining, he would make sure I was covered. He'd give me his jacket, and he'd take the cold.
"I'll pick you up at 5:00 PM, okay? Mag-ingat ka sa 'Ice King' mo," he'd joke, kissing my forehead before I entered the gates of St. Jude.
The "Ice King." Professor Ferrer.
Before the "F" on my paper, Liyro was just a shadow in my life—a cold, distant authority figure. I didn't know that every time I hugged Julián goodbye at the gate, Liyro was watching from his tinted window. I didn't know that our small, happy poverty was an insult to a man who believed that everything, even love, should have a price tag.
Liyro's POV
I watched them from my office. The way she clung to him. The way he looked at her like she was the sun. It was revolting.
I spent my nights auditing Elara's life. I knew her bank balance—it was pathetic. I knew her groceries—mostly canned goods and eggs. I knew that Julián was secretly selling his blood just to pay for her art supplies last month.
They thought their love was a masterpiece. To me, it was a poorly managed asset.
"She doesn't belong in that slum," I whispered, my fingers tracing the hidden camera footage of Elara walking up the stairs to her apartment. "She belongs in silk. She belongs in a gallery in Paris. She belongs to me."
I didn't hate Julián because he was poor. I hated him because he was a Valerius who had the audacity to be happy without the money that defined our world. I needed to remind him—and her—that in this world, the "Ice King" always controls the climate.
Elara's POV
The night before the invitation to the gala arrived, Julián and I were laying on our thin mattress. The fan was oscillating, barely cutting through the Manila heat.
"When you graduate, Elara, we'll move out of here," Julián whispered, his arms wrapped tight around me. "I'll open a real studio for you. No more MBA, no more Ferrers. Just us and the art."
"I love you, Juli," I whispered back, closing my eyes.
I didn't know that would be the last night of our peace. I didn't know that the next day, a gold-embossed invitation would arrive at the Valerius Mansion, addressed to Roberto Valerius, inviting him to a "Special Recognition Gala" at St. Jude Academy.
A gala where his "deadbeat" son and the orphan girl would be the main exhibit for Liyro's amusement.
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