Chapter XXIII: Gifts
It is late afternoon in Caluipat, the sun painting the sala with golden light. Mercy sits in her favorite chair, holding a worn leather wallet. The wallet is brown, polished by years of handling, and right in front, embossed carefully, is a single word:
"Mercy."
She traces her finger over the letters, smiling. The memory comes back vividly.
That wallet wasn't bought by her. It was a gift.
From Meric, Ben, and little Mark.
It was during their trip to Baguio, last December.
Mercy chuckles quietly. "Ah, those three... they think I don't know how expensive this was."
Just as she's about to sink fully into memory, the front door opens.
Meric walks in, hair messy, cheeks slightly flushed from the short walk. She's just come back from the store—Ben had returned from
