CHAPTER 12: Things We Don't Say
1386 Words
“Lara?”
I stared at Dave.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
“My father said her name.”
“Maybe he was lying.”
“Maybe.”
“But you believe him?”
“No.”
His answer came too quickly.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Then why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you're trying to solve a murder.”
He sighed.
“Because you're making it sound dramatic.”
“It is dramatic.”
“Fair.”
I looked at the diary again.
“If Lara knows something, we need to talk to her.”
Dave nodded.
“Tomorrow.”
“Why not today?”
“Because…”
He looked at the sky.
“It's almost seven.”
“And?”
“And I'm hungry.”
I stared at him.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You're unbelievable.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
“I know.”
---
We ended up at a small carinderia near the basketball court.
There were only three tables.
A few plastic chairs.
A radio playing old OPM songs.
And the smell of fried chicken that made me realize I was actually hungry.
“Ate,” Dave called.
“Dalawa pong rice.”
I looked at him.
“Dalawa?”
“Yes.”
“That's too much.”
“Para sa'yo 'yan.”
“I can buy my own.”
“I know.”
I stared at him.
He smiled.
“I'm not rescuing you.”
I looked away.
“Good.”
Ate placed the food on the table.
Dave pushed one plate toward me.
“Kain.”
“Bossy.”
“Hungry.”
I took a bite.
He smiled.
“See?”
“Don't look so proud.”
“I won.”
“You didn't win anything.”
“I got you to eat.”
I rolled my eyes.
But I couldn't stop the small smile.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
“You smiled.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“Eat your rice.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
---
After dinner, we walked toward the terminal.
The streets were busy.
Jeepneys.
Tricycles.
Students.
People carrying groceries.
Someone selling fishball near the corner.
Normal.
Ordinary.
For some reason, I liked it.
Maybe because for a few minutes, nothing felt complicated.
No debt.
No mysterious documents.
No missing parents.
No questions.
Just walking.
Beside him.
“You know…”
Dave broke the silence.
“Hmm?”
“I think you're less scary when you're eating.”
I looked at him.
“I'm going to throw this fishball stick at you.”
He laughed.
“See?”
“What?”
“You're smiling again.”
“Shut up.”
He laughed harder.
I tried not to smile.
Failed.
---
When we reached the terminal, the rain started.
“Perfect.”
I looked at the sky.
“Wala kang payong?”
“No.”
“Of course.”
“You?”
“No.”
We looked at each other.
Dave pointed toward the waiting shed.
“Takbo?”
“Takbo.”
We ran.
We barely made it.
I was laughing by the time we reached the shed.
Dave was soaked.
I looked at him.
“You look stupid.”
“You're laughing.”
“Because you look stupid.”
“You're smiling.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Okay.”
He leaned against the wall.
I noticed something.
His hands were shaking.
“Dave?”
He looked at me.
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay?”
He nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Don't lie.”
He looked away.
“I hate rain.”
“Why?”
He was quiet.
Then—
“It's the last thing I remember about my mom.”
I stopped.
He stared at the rain.
“She left during a storm.”
My chest tightened.
“You saw her?”
“No.”
“Then how do you remember?”
He smiled sadly.
“Because I was six.”
He looked at me.
“She kissed me goodbye.”
I didn't know what to say.
So I stayed quiet.
He continued.
“She told me she'd come back.”
I looked down.
“She didn't.”
“No.”
The rain became louder.
I wanted to say something.
Anything.
But sometimes, words were useless.
So I simply stood beside him.
After a while, his shoulder touched mine.
Neither of us moved.
---
The next day, Lara wasn't in class.
I waited until lunch.
Still nothing.
I checked my phone.
No messages.
Then someone tapped my shoulder.
I turned.
A girl from Lara's class stood behind me.
“Are you Thea?”
“Yes.”
“Lara wants to see you.”
“Where?”
“She said the old library.”
I stood.
“Okay.”
I walked there alone.
The library was almost empty.
Lara was sitting near the window.
She looked nervous.
“You came.”
“You asked me to.”
She nodded.
“Sit.”
I sat across from her.
“What do you know?”
She looked surprised.
“You don't waste time.”
“No.”
She took a deep breath.
“My mother knew Dave's mother.”
“I know.”
Her eyes widened.
“How?”
“Dave found a diary.”
Lara looked down.
“So you know.”
“Know what?”
She didn't answer.
“Lara.”
She sighed.
“My mother used to work for Victor Navarro.”
My stomach tightened.
“Doing what?”
“I don't know exactly.”
“You don't know?”
“She never told me.”
“Then why are you involved?”
Lara looked at me.
“Because she left something.”
“What?”
“A letter.”
She reached into her bag.
Pulled out an envelope.
Then placed it on the table.
My name was written on it.
I froze.
“Why does this have my name?”
“I don't know.”
“When did you get this?”
“Three years ago.”
I looked at her.
“You had this for three years?”
She nodded.
“Why didn't you give it to me?”
“Because my mother told me not to.”
“Why?”
“She said that if I gave it to you, someone would get hurt.”
I stared at the envelope.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
I reached for it.
Before I could open it—
the library door slammed.
We both turned.
Dave stood there.
Breathing heavily.
“Thea.”
I stood.
“What happened?”
He looked at Lara.
Then at the envelope.
His expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
Lara stood.
“My mother.”
Dave took a step forward.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Lara.”
“No.”
I stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Dave looked at me.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
He looked at the envelope.
Then at me.
“My mother had one just like that.”
I frowned.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“Same handwriting.”
I looked at the envelope again.
My name.
Written in faded ink.
Then I noticed something.
There was another name written underneath mine.
Very small.
Almost hidden.
Maria Navarro.
My heart stopped.
Dave saw it too.
He whispered—
“That wasn't meant for you.”
I looked at him.
“Then who was it meant for?”
Nobody answered.
Until Lara spoke.
“My mother said…”
She looked terrified.
“Maria didn't disappear.”
She swallowed.
“She changed her name.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
Lara looked directly at me.
“Because she was hiding her daughter.”
Silence.
Dave's face went pale.
I couldn't breathe.
“Her daughter?”
Lara nodded.
“She said the child had to be protected from Victor.”
I looked at Dave.
Then at the letter.
Then at the name written underneath mine.
And suddenly—
one terrifying thought entered my mind.
What if the mystery wasn't about who my parents were?
What if it was about who I was supposed to be?
- Writer
