Her Memories

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Kira's POV

I woke up early, knowing that Saturday was the perfect day to get the groceries done. The week had been tiring, and I wanted to finish everything early so I could have some time to unwind.

After taking a quick shower, I stepped out of my room and immediately noticed my grandmother sitting by the window. Her hands were busy working on her crochet, the rhythmic click of her needles the only sound in the quiet room.

"Oh, my dear, you're up already. Your father came by earlier and asked me to give this to you.",she greeted me brightly, her face lit up by the soft morning light.

She held up a large paper bag with one hand, and I couldn’t help but glance at it, though I quickly turned my gaze away. I didn’t need to know what was inside.

I wasn’t sure why, but the presence of that bag made me uneasy. It wasn’t that I was ungrateful, but it was always awkward when my father sent something over. He never really stuck around long enough to explain anything, and I wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish by sending me things I neither wanted nor needed.

"Good morning, Lola," I said, offering a small smile as I took the bag from her hands. I placed it carefully on the couch beside her, trying to act like it wasn’t there. I didn’t want to deal with whatever it was.

"I’m leaving now," I said, already heading toward the door.

"Do you need me to get anything from the market? I’ll be passing by the palengke (market) on the way," I added, trying to keep my voice casual. I didn’t want to stick around for long. There was something about the quietness of the house that felt stifling, as though it was slowly closing in on me.

"And the medicine you need, Lola. Do you have enough left?" I asked, pausing for a moment. I knew my grandmother had been getting older and needed her medications, so I wanted to make sure she was well taken care of.

"Yes, here it is. Your father already brought it over earlier," she replied, her tone warm and reassuring. She gestured to a small box on the table beside her.

I nodded, but my mind lingered on the mention of my father. There was always a strange heaviness that came with anything having to do with him. The brief visits, the things he sent—there was always something that felt wrong, like he was trying to make up for something without ever really acknowledging what had happened.

The distance between us had grown too wide, and there was nothing he could do to close the gap.

"Maybe my stepmother will show up again because of that," I muttered, running a comb through my hair. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I couldn’t help it. The mere thought of my stepmother made my stomach churn.

I didn’t get along with her at all. I had never liked Rita, and I wasn’t sure if I ever would. To me, she felt like poison in my father’s life. She was the reason everything had changed in our family. If it hadn’t been for her, maybe things would have been different, but it was too late for that now.

"What are you talking about? Rita is nice, you two just don't get along." my grandmother said, her voice taking on a more conciliatory tone. She smiled kindly at me, as if trying to smooth over the tension in the air.

I bit my lip, frustration rising within me. How could she say that? She didn’t understand. Rita wasn’t just someone my father had chosen over me—she was someone who had come into our lives and made everything harder. I didn’t need her “kindness.” What I needed was for things to go back to how they used to be, but that was impossible now.

I didn’t say anything in response. There was no point. It was always the same. My grandmother would defend my father, and I would silently seethe, caught in the middle of a family that no longer made sense to me.

Instead of arguing further, I grabbed my bag and threw it over my shoulder.

"I’m leaving, Lola," I said firmly, not looking back. I couldn’t wait to get out of the house.

"Be careful, iha. Don’t forget to take care of yourself," my grandmother called after me, but I didn’t stop. I knew she meant well, but it wasn’t the kind of care I needed. I wasn’t a child anymore, and there was nothing she could do to fix everything that was wrong in my life.

I pushed open the door and stepped outside, the cool morning air hitting my face like a welcome relief. I inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled in my chest. It was so easy to get lost in my thoughts at home, to let the weight of my family’s dysfunction weigh me down.

But out here, in the world, I could breathe.

I didn’t have to think about my father or Rita or anyone else for a little while. The market was bustling, and I let myself get caught up in the rhythm of it—people chatting, the sounds of vendors calling out their prices, the colorful displays of fresh produce. It felt like life was happening outside of the walls of my house, like there was something bigger than my small, fractured world.

I made my way through the market, picking up the things I needed: vegetables, rice, some fresh fish. My mind was still wandering, but the movement of my hands kept me grounded. I had to focus. This wasn’t the time for daydreams.

Yet, as I passed by a stall, something caught my eye. A tall figure stood in front of a produce stand, his back turned to me, but there was something oddly familiar about him. I couldn’t place it at first, but then I noticed the faint outline of a blue shirt and jeans—the same outfit I had seen on someone earlier this week. It was him.

Ace.

I hadn’t realized he would be at the market today, but there he was.

I couldn’t help but stare for a moment. It was strange to see him here, in this place I had come to escape the chaos of my life. Was it a coincidence? Or was he somehow part of my world now? I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t ready to talk to him either.

He seemed lost in thought, unaware of my gaze, and before I could decide whether to approach him or not, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

I felt a strange pull in my chest, an odd mixture of curiosity and hesitation.

Maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe it was just another ordinary day at the market.

But something about seeing him there, so close to me, made me feel like I was on the edge of something new—something I couldn’t quite grasp yet.

Shaking my head, I turned back to my shopping, trying to push the thought of Ace out of my mind. I have enough on my plate already.

////

As I was picking vegetables, I suddenly felt a sharp tug on the bag I was carrying. For a moment, I froze and unable to move.

Someone snatched my bag for Pete's sake!

Everything was in it--my phone, my wallet, and the last letter my mom had written before she died.

Without thinking twice, I sprinted after the thief, desperate to catch up.

But why did it feel like he was getting farther away with every step I took?

"Hey! Give me back my bag! You bastard! " I shouted, my voice hoarse and frantic. The people around me were frozen, staring at me in shock, as if they couldn't bring themselves to help.

A few meters ahead, a large figure suddenly stepped in front of the thief, blocking his path.I push myself harder, running even faster, determined to catch him and reclaim my bag.

I was just about to strike the thief when I realized that the person who had blocked him wasn't a stranger. It was none other than Ace---my schoolmate.

"A--ace" I blurted out, shocked.

"You are going to kill him," he said with a lack of enthusiasm, his eyes fixed on my hand, which was still gripping tightly around the thief's neck.

I quickly released my hold, stepping back in confusion. The people around us immediately rushed and restrained the thief.

"T-thank you," I stammered, my voice shaky from the adrenaline. Ace just looked at me, nodded briefly, and then turned to walk away without saying another word.