Uncle Art ( SPG) TAGALOG

Chapter 4

Art’s Point of View

Since my youth, I had always preferred staying in America. Yet, year after year, I found myself booking flights back to the Philippines to visit my grandparents. They stubbornly refused to live in the States, preferring the province because they claimed the city lacked fresh air and was suffocatingly polluted.

It was during my college years in the States that I met Nicolas. We shared a few classes when I was a freshman and he was a graduating senior. Before we knew it, we became inseparable, joined by our tight-knit circle of friends: Patrick, Zoebelle, and a girl named Angelica. Angelica was my childhood friend, and later on, she became Nicolas’s wife.

The truth was, Angelica was my very first love. But I kept that secret buried deep within me; no one else knew. We were exactly the same age, and we even became classmates for a time when I spent three years living with my grandparents in the province during high school. I had enrolled in a public school simply for a change of pace.

We became close after I defended her from school bullies, and from that day on, I became her personal protector. But when my grandparents passed away shortly afterward, I had no choice but to return to America.

I considered Angelica my first love because she was the first person to make my heart race. But back then, I was too cowardly, too tongue-tied to ever confess my feelings. After Nicolas graduated, he returned to the Philippines. By the time I went back for a vacation a year later, everything had changed.

They were already together.

Of course, it hurt, but I had no right to complain. I valued their friendship immensely, so I forced myself to be genuinely happy for them. Eventually, they married, and their love brought a child into the world—Angela Nicole.

The very first time I held that little girl, a strange sensation washed over me… a feeling of protectiveness I couldn’t quite explain. Over the years, our friends would tease me, asking why I refused to settle down. I would simply laugh it off.

Once, Angelica playfully joked, “Maybe the reason Simon won’t get married is because he’s waiting for our daughter to grow up.”

Of course, I dismissed the idea. I thought I was simply fond of the child because she looked exactly like her mother.

As the years rolled on, my studies consumed my life, preventing me from vacationing in the Philippines. I graduated with high honors and quickly rose to prominence as a billionaire architect. Naturally, I had relationships—some were serious, while others were merely casual. The culture in the States was highly liberated, and dating was simply a normal part of life. That was the kind of environment I grew up in.

I built my billionaire status not through inheritance, but through sheer grit, sleepless nights, and absolute dedication to my craft.

Nicolas was the same. Though his parents were wealthy, his mother passed away early, and he refused to rely on his father, who had remarried and started a new family. I witnessed how tirelessly Nicolas and Angelica worked to build their clothing line, eventually naming the entire brand after their only daughter, Angela.

Until tragedy struck.

My friends died.

I didn’t know the full story, but my instincts screamed foul play. I vowed to find out exactly who was behind it.

I was in America when I received the harrowing call from our mutual friends. But what shattered me most was the realization that their daughter, Angela Nicole, had been left entirely alone.

The family attorney informed me that we needed to protect the child immediately because her father’s stepmother and stepbrother were plotting to take everything.

However, one thing haunted me.

I received a final letter from Nicolas and Angelica. The letter explicitly stated that I was to manage all their assets until Angela reached legal age. That was no issue for me.

But they had one final request—a request so mind-blowing that I never could have dreamed it up in a million years.

They wrote:

“You have to marry our daughter.”

At the very least, right after her eighteenth birthday.

And that became my living nightmare.

I already had a girlfriend, Anicka. We had been together for a few years. I liked her because she was incredibly sweet, even if she was undeniably spoiled and high-maintenance. We had actually planned to get married before my friends died, but I had to put the wedding on hold.

Anicka didn’t know the whole truth yet, and I dreaded how she would react. She was already busy planning our wedding. When I initially told her the wedding had to be delayed, she blamed Angela.

But once I explained the horrific tragedy the poor girl had endured, Anicka’s heart softened, and she became genuinely kind to her.

Speaking of Angela, she was only fifteen when she came under my guardianship. We weren’t particularly close; she was extremely evasive and skittish around me. But as time went on, she looked more and more like her mother—except she was taller, likely inheriting those genes from her father.

She had no idea that I had hired private security to protect her and keep track of potential threats around her. I had to protect her; her safety was paramount. There were always people watching her, and security reports kept me informed about anything that might put her in danger.

That was precisely how I learned that she had gotten herself into trouble with Enzo, the son of one of our prominent business partners.

I couldn’t understand the strange turmoil that erupted inside me whenever I thought about her growing up and becoming independent. I knew I had to keep my emotions under control. Whatever the circumstances, she was still under my protection, and I had a responsibility to do what was right.

And that meant keeping the promise I had made to her parents—until she was old enough to make her own decisions.

Nicole’s Pov

"Friend, sino nga pala ang 18 roses mo?" tanong sa akin ni Beatrice habang nakadungaw sa desk ko.

"Hindi ko alam, eh. Ayaw i-reveal ng nag-organize ng party ko. Pero feeling ko si Enzo," bali-walang sagot ko sa kaibigan ko habang patuloy pa rin sa pagsusulat sa aking notebook.

Nasa loob kami ng classroom at huling subject na namin ito bago mag-lunch break. Sa makalawa na ang ikalabing-walo kong kaarawan. Hindi naman masyadong bongga ang magiging selebrasyon dahil mga close friends at ka-teammate ko lang sa volleyball ang invited. Kung ako lang talaga ang masusunod, ayaw ko ng party. Kaya lang, pinilit talaga ako nina Yaya at nitong si Beatrice. Nag-birthday kasi siya noong nakaraang buwan, kaya gusto niya ay ma-experience ko rin ang magkaroon ng debut party. Sa huli, sumang-ayon na rin ako.

Kring! Kring!

"At last, nag-bell na rin!" sambit ko sabay hila ng malalim na hininga.

Kanina pa ako nagugutom, hindi kasi ako nakapag-breakfast kanina. Paano ba naman, gaya ng dati ay late na naman akong nagising. Lately kasi, madalas akong magising sa madaling-araw na tila naalimpungatan. Hindi ko alam kung panaginip lang ba 'yon, pero sobrang weird ng pakiramdam. Hindi ko magawang i-share o ikwento kay Beatrice dahil nakakahahiya.

Minsan, sa kalagitnaan ng tulog ko, bigla na lang akong magigising na parang may humahalik sa labi ko. May isang beses pa nga na nagising akong medyo nakalihis na ang suot kong pantulog. Dahil doon, hirap na hirap na akong matulog gabi-gabi dahil natatakot ako. Feeling ko ay totoo ang nangyayari. Pero paano magiging totoo kung paggising ko naman ay wala namang tao sa kwarto ko? Pero ang mas weird pa rito... minsan ay pakiramdam ko ay medyo basa ang panty ko paggising.

Sobrang natatakot ako. Gusto ko sanang sabihin kina Yaya o kaya kay Beatrice, pero baka isipin lang nila na nagha-halucinate lang ako. Kaya ang ending, pinipigilan ko na lang palagi ang sarili kong makatulog nang maaga. Ayaw ko nang matulog kung maaari, kaya naman lagi akong puyat at tinatanghali ng gising.

Nasa hallway na kami papuntang canteen nang makarinig kami ng malakas na ingay sa ground floor. Nagtitilian ang mga estudyante. Na-curious kami ni Trice kaya naman sumilip kami sa balcony para tingnan kung anong meron sa ibaba.

May maliit na stage roon at pinagkakaguluhan ng mga estudyante. May nakaset-up ding instrumento ng isang banda.

"O.M.G. Beshy! Si Lorenzo 'yon oh!" tili ng kaibigan ko sabay yugyog sa braso ko.

"Ano na naman kayang paandar nito ni Enzo?" napapailing kong sabi.

"Tara, baba tayo para malaman natin!"

Napabuntong-hininga na lang ako at nagpatangay sa hila ng kaibigan ko. Pagkababa namin sa ground floor, biglang nagsitabi ang mga schoolmates ko. Nakatingin silang lahat sa akin habang binibigyan ako ng daan. Nang lingunin ko si Trice sa tabi ko, nakita kong naiwan na pala siya sa likod at sinisenyasan akong magpatuloy lang sa paglakad.

Kaya naman wala akong nagawa kundi ang maglakad pasulong.

Nagkatitigan kami ni Enzo na kasalukuyang nakatayo sa gitna ng stage habang may hawak na gitara. Ang lakas ng dating niya at napakapogi niya sa suot niyang casual clothes.

"This song is dedicated to my one and only babe... ANGELA NICOLE VALDEZ," malakas na anunsyo ni Enzo sa microphone sabay turo sa akin at kasabay ng isang makahulugang kindat.

Agad na nagtilian ang mga babae sa paligid. Ang iba ay nakasimangot sa selos, habang ang iba naman ay mukhang maiiyak na. Hindi ko na lang sila pinansin dahil ang atensyon ko ay nakatutok lang kay Enzo.

Nagsimula na siyang mag-strum ng gitara at kumanta ng 'Simpleng Tulad Mo' ni Daniel Padilla.

Natapos niya ang kanta nang hindi inaalis ang tingin sa mga mata ko. Hindi ko alam, pero parang biglang sumaya ang puso ko dahil sa effort na ipinakita niya ngayon.

"I love you, Babe," nakangiting pahayag niya habang nakatingin sa akin pagkatapos ng kanta. "Dalawang araw na lang... sana makamit ko na ang matagal ko nang pangarap, at 'yon ay ang maging tayo na officially."

Tumango ako sa kanya at nginitian siya. Bumaba si Enzo sa stage, lumapit sa akin, at niyakap ako nang napakahigpit.

Bakit nga naman hindi ko subukan si Enzo? Malay mo, siya na nga ang taong hinihintay ko para maging masaya na rin ako kahit papaano—gaya ni Uncle Art. Si Uncle Art na soon-to-be married na, at sinusubukan ko namang maging masaya para sa kanila ni Ate Anicka.

Patuloy pa rin sa paghiyawan ang mga tao sa paligid namin ni Enzo, nang biglang may isang malamig at pamilyar na boses ang bumasag sa buong moment namin.

"Is this what you've learned in this school?!"

Nanigas ako sa kinatatayuan. Dahan-dahan akong lumingon, at doon ay bumungad sa akin ang galit na galit na mukha ni Uncle Art.

Bakit ba palagi na lang siyang wrong timing?

Samantala, nagsimula namang magtilian at magbulungan ang mga kababaihan sa paligid nang makita siya. Agad namang lumapit ang aming school principal at magalang na bumati, "Mr. President, glad napadalaw po kayo."

Nandilat ang mga mata ko sa sobrang gulat. Napahawak ako sa dibdib ko at napatanong sa aking sarili, “Ano?! President siya ng school na 'to?!”