My Paradiso

Chapter 4: What We Talk About After Class

Chapter 4: What We Talk About After Class

The late afternoon sun filtered through the park near Marcus's dorm. He sat on a bench under a shady tree, a book resting in his lap.

The pages were barely turning as his mind wandered. The only sound was the soft music playing through one earpod. His thoughts drifted, quiet and distant, as he watched the people around him—everyone living their lives, talking, laughing, moving. It felt like he was observing a world he didn't belong to, but he didn't mind.

"Oi. You still pretending to read?"

The familiar voice broke his thoughts. Marcus looked up to see Lorenzo De La Cruz, his former high school classmate. Lorenzo grinned at him, wearing his usual confidence, the kind that made him stand out in any crowd. He sat down beside Marcus with a loud sigh, dropping his bag to the side.

"You always this quiet now?" Lorenzo asked, nudging Marcus's shoulder.

"I've always been quiet," Marcus answered with a small smile, not really meeting Lorenzo's gaze.

"Yeah, but now you look like you're in some kind of deep thought," Lorenzo said, rolling his eyes. "Like you're trying to figure out the meaning of life or something."

Marcus shrugged. "Just trying to get through the day."

Lorenzo grinned, his smile always a little too wide. "Fair enough. So, how's it going at school? Everything good?"

"It's fine," Marcus said, his tone flat. "I go to class. I cook. I walk around."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Just 'go to class and walk around'? You're not meeting anyone new?"

Marcus shifted slightly, glancing at the ground. "I'm not really... looking for that."

Lorenzo paused, then leaned back with a sigh. "Man, I swear you've always been the same. So reserved. Not even a little bit curious about life?"

Marcus didn't answer right away. He was used to this—people asking him about things he didn't care to explain. He wasn't good at small talk. It wasn't that he disliked people; he just didn't know how to connect with them easily.

"Guess it's just who I am," Marcus said finally.

Lorenzo studied him for a moment, then chuckled. "You're a complicated guy, you know that? Always 'too cool for school,' but I know there's more going on. You ever talk to... Shina?"

The mention of her name hit Marcus like a quiet punch. He hesitated, a faint frown crossing his face.

"Not really," he said, shrugging. "Haven't in a while."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the casual tone. "But you guys were serious, right? What happened?"

Marcus let out a small, almost bitter laugh. "Things change. People change."

Lorenzo didn't press further, but his eyes lingered on Marcus, knowing there was more to the story. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it..."

"I'm good," Marcus interrupted, standing up. He slung his bag over his shoulder. "I'll catch you later."

Lorenzo nodded, watching him go. "Yeah, yeah. You're too cool for me, I get it."

Meanwhile...

Inside her elegant, modern kitchen, Celestia Rivera was determined to prove that she could make a decent meal. The recipe on her phone was simple enough: Chicken Adobo. But somehow, the process seemed to be slipping out of her control.

"Okay. Let's do this," she muttered to herself as she gathered the ingredients. "Step one—sauté garlic and onions."

She poured oil into the pan and set it on the stove, waiting a little too long before throwing in the garlic and onions. A loud sizzle erupted, followed by a puff of smoke. Celestia jumped back, fanning the air.

"Too hot? Too hot!" she said, her eyes wide. She tried to calm down but ended up looking like a panicked chef on a cooking show.

Step 2: Add chicken and cook until brown.

She tossed in the chicken, not bothering to dry it off first. The pan popped angrily, splattering a few drops of hot oil.

"OW! Okay, that's definitely my fault," she muttered, rubbing her arm.

Ignoring the small burns, she went to the next step.

Step 3: Add soy sauce and vinegar.

She grabbed the soy sauce bottle, shaking it without thinking, and poured it generously into the pan.

Then she grabbed the vinegar bottle and poured just as much, without checking if she was using the right amount.

The kitchen quickly filled with the sharp, tangy smell of vinegar and soy sauce.

"Is this supposed to smell this strong?" Celestia asked, holding her nose.

Step 4: Add water, bay leaves, and peppercorns.

She added the water without measuring, dumped in a bunch of pepper, and reached for the bay leaves.

But, as she scanned the kitchen, she realized she had no idea where they were. In desperation, she threw a handful of dried herbs into the pan instead.

"Bay leaves, I think? Maybe?"

Just then, Ate Liza, the family cook, walked in and immediately stopped short when she saw the pan.

"What are you doing?" Liza asked, her voice flat.

"I'm cooking!" Celestia said with exaggerated enthusiasm, though the evidence in the pan suggested otherwise.

"Cooking? More like creating a disaster," Liza muttered. She leaned in to inspect the concoction, then sighed. "Let me fix this."

Celestia threw her hands up. "I followed the recipe!"

"Uh-huh. And you're about to make a vinegar bath with chicken," Liza said, taking the spoon and immediately correcting the seasoning.

Celestia laughed. "Alright, fine. You win."

Liza gave her a look that said, I always win and took over the pot. "Next time, stick to instant noodles. They're harder to mess up."

Celestia picked up her phone, distracted by the buzzing notifications from her friends.

-Aira: Episode 12 had me crying. I swear, I'm not okay.

-Mika: That scene. I had to pause and scream. Why do they do this to us?

-Celestia: Meanwhile, I'm crying over soy sauce and chicken that looks like burnt regrets. You guys still love me, right?

-Aira: I love you even when you make food that looks like an emergency.

-Mika: You're the real MVP for keeping us entertained while being a disaster.

Celestia laughed, sending a picture of her sorry-looking adobo to the group chat with the caption:

"Is this edible or should I call for takeout?"

-Aira: Takeout. Or a priest. Either way, I'm down.

-Mika: I'll bring the Tums. You bring the food. Actually, scratch that. You just bring the drinks.

Celestia put her phone down, watching as Liza worked her magic on the pot.

For a moment, she felt lighter, like the weight of everything else—her family, her duties, her image—wasn't so heavy.

She was just a girl trying to cook a meal, surrounded by friends who didn't care how bad her cooking was.

And that, for now, was enough.