Chapter 2: The New Volunteer
1278 Words
Elira didn’t tell anyone about the dream.
Not even her best friend Anya, who could get secrets out of her faster than hot pandesal disappears at breakfast. Something about the dream felt too delicate, too sacred to speak aloud. She wasn’t even sure if it meant anything—only that her heart had not stopped thinking about the man on the second stair.
Every day that week, after doing her chores and delivering food to her grandmother, she found herself walking to the chapel again. She would sit quietly in one of the pews, pretending to admire the lilies she helped arrange, but her eyes always wandered—toward the altar. Toward the light.
The second step stayed empty.
Yet every time the sunlight poured through the round window and bathed the wood in gold, her chest would tighten. Like something—or someone—was just out of reach.
“Napapadalas ka dito, Elira,” Father Lito remarked one morning, smiling kindly as he placed a hymnal on the lectern.
“Gusto ko lang po tumulong,” she replied with a polite smile. “And… it’s peaceful here.”
Father Lito chuckled. “The chapel has a way of doing that. Marami na rin akong nakilalang bumabalik dito dahil sa katahimikan.”
Elira simply nodded. What she didn’t say was that she felt drawn to it—as if the chapel itself remembered her dream.
On the sixth day, everything changed.
She had just arrived, the lilies tucked into her arms, when she heard new voices inside the chapel. Not the usual murmurs of the elderly or the sweet chatter of altar boys.
These were lower, deeper—one of them unfamiliar.
Curious, she stepped inside, careful not to let the door creak too loudly. Her sandals clicked softly against the stone floor. She paused by the doorway.
There he was.
A boy—no, a man—standing by the altar, speaking to Father Lito.
He was tall, maybe even taller than the figure in her dream. His back was turned, but she could see the way his shoulders filled his navy polo. His dark pants were clean, his posture relaxed. He had one hand in his pocket and the other gesturing slightly as he spoke. Confident. Calm.
Something inside Elira shifted.
She stepped forward, and at that moment, he turned.
Their eyes met.
And for a second, her breath caught in her throat.
He was handsome, yes—but not in the movie-star way her classmates giggled over. His features were strong but soft: warm brown eyes, slightly tousled black hair, and skin that caught the sunlight gently, like it belonged there.
A faint scar curved just above his eyebrow, and a small mole sat quietly beneath his left eye.
He looked… real. But not ordinary.
Like someone pulled out of her dream and placed carefully into her world.
Father Lito noticed her and smiled. “Ah, Elira. Sakto ang dating mo. Meet our new volunteer. He’ll be helping with youth activities this month.”
The man offered a hand. “Kaleb,” he said.
“Elira,” she replied, slowly taking his hand.
His grip was firm but not overwhelming. Warm. Familiar?
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Kaleb added, smiling. “Father Lito says you basically run this chapel on your own.”
She laughed softly. “Exaggeration po ‘yon. I just help with flowers and cleaning.”
“She’s being modest,” Father Lito said with a chuckle. “Elira has been one of our most dedicated helpers since she was twelve.”
Kaleb looked at her again. “Then I’m lucky to have someone to learn from.”
Elira didn’t know what to say. Her cheeks felt warm. She shifted her weight and placed the lilies into the nearest vase, hoping they’d hide her flustered expression.
As the two men continued their conversation, Elira kept sneaking glances at Kaleb. There was something about him. Not just his looks. It was in the way he moved, the way he stood by the altar, as though he’d always belonged there.
Her mind whispered questions she couldn’t answer.
Was it him? The one from my dream?
But that didn’t make sense. Kaleb wasn’t wearing a black suit. No formal shoes. Just a simple, clean outfit and sneakers.
And yet…
“Elira,” Kaleb said gently, “would you mind showing me where the cleaning supplies are? Father Lito says I’ll be helping with the back rooms.”
She blinked. “Ah—sure. Dito po.”
She led him to the storage closet behind the chapel, the air growing cooler as they stepped into the shaded corridor.
“So, have you lived here all your life?” he asked, walking beside her.
“Yes,” she said. “Barangay Balagtas, born and raised.”
“It’s a quiet place,” he said. “I like it.”
“You’re not from here?” she asked, stealing a quick glance.
“No,” he replied. “My family’s from Taguig. But I wanted something different for a while.”
“For work?”
He paused. “Sort of. More for… peace.”
She understood that. Deeply.
They reached the closet. She opened it and handed him a small broom and a rag.
“Thank you,” he said, brushing his fingers lightly against hers.
It was such a brief touch.
But Elira felt it. Like a spark echoing from a dream.
They cleaned in companionable silence for a while, Kaleb sweeping the corners, Elira dusting the pews. Every now and then their eyes would meet, and she’d feel her heart thump, steady but unsure.
When she looked up again, he was staring at the altar.
At the stairs.
He stepped forward, one hand resting lightly on the wood.
And then… he stepped onto the first stair.
Elira held her breath.
Then—he paused.
“Something about this spot,” Kaleb said quietly, almost to himself.
He lifted his foot as if to take another step—but stopped.
“Feels like I’ve seen this place before.”
Elira froze.
Goosebumps danced up her arms.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Kaleb turned slightly. “Have you ever had that feeling? Like… you’ve been somewhere in a dream before actually being there?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes,” she whispered. “Exactly that.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he smiled. “Maybe we both have good imaginations.”
She tried to smile back, but her hands were trembling.
It couldn’t be coincidence.
The chapel. The light. The man. The stair.
Kaleb.
That night, Elira sat by the window of her room, looking up at the stars.
Her thoughts were tangled like yarn. She wanted to believe in logic—that dreams were just images from a tired brain. But Kaleb’s presence felt like proof that some dreams meant more.
She pressed her palm to her chest, where her heart beat steady.
She remembered the words from her dream again:
“I don’t like wearing these shoes.”
And though Kaleb hadn’t said those words aloud, she glanced at his sneakers earlier.
Simple. Worn.
The kind of shoes someone liked wearing.
What if the man in her dream really was Kaleb?
Was fate trying to tell her something?
Or was it all a strange coincidence that her mind wanted to believe?
“Lord,” she whispered, “kung may ibig sabihin ito… kung may dahilan ang panaginip ko… please guide me.”
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees.
Inside, Elira held her breath.
Waiting.
- Writer
