Chapter 19
My friends and I, along with Ate’s barkada, decided to hang out at a karaoke bar tonight.
Ang daming nangyari kanina—sobrang daming ganap na halos wala na kaming energy.
Everyone was emotionally and physically drained from all that happened throughout the day, kaya naman naisipan nilang mag-celebrate kahit papaano.
Para maibsan ang stress at makalimot kahit sandali, we agreed to rent the whole karaoke place para kami-kami lang, no strangers, no distractions—just us, good food, music, and maybe a little bit of drama on the side.
The vibe was lively—laughing, singing, even dancing a little—pero somehow, may lungkot pa rin akong nararamdaman deep inside.
I kept glancing at the door, waiting for Eliana.
She hasn’t arrived yet, but she did text earlier saying she’s on her way.
I kept checking my phone, half-expecting a change of plans, but wala pa rin.
I really hope she shows up.
Sa isang corner ng room, Kinsley is obviously trying hard to get Ms.
Dizon’s attention.
She’s throwing her the flirtiest smiles, laughing a little too loud at Ms.
Dizon’s jokes—even the dry ones—and making excuses to be near her.
Nakakatuwa pero nakaka-cringe din panoorin.
Ang landi talaga ni Kinsley.
But what made it even funnier was how cool and distant Ms.
Dizon was acting.
She barely even acknowledged Kinsley’s attempts, just nodding politely and then looking away like she was more interested in the karaoke screen than the person beside her.
Meanwhile, Ms. Sanchez was just sitting quietly, chatting with Miss Flores. She didn’t even look my way, let alone congratulate me.
I was kind of hoping she’d at least say something. A simple "congrats" would've meant a lot. Pero wala. As if nothing even happened. And it’s hard not to take it personally.
"Sasakyan kita sa lahat ng gusto mo
Sasakyan kita basta't sasakyan mo rin ako,"
kanta ni Ms. Martinez kay Ate, habang si Ate ay nakatitig lang ito ng walang emosyon kay Ms. Martinez.
"Kung gusto mo ng kiss (pagbibigyan kita)"
kanta nito at nag-bigay ng flying kiss kay Ate.
"Kadiri," bulong ni Ate pero rinig na rinig naming lahat kaya natawa kami.
"Kung gusto mo ng hugs (sige magsawa ka)"
kanta pa nito ulit at yayakapin na sana si Ate pero bago pa man ito makayakap ay pinaghahampas na ito ni Ate. Kaya napa-aray nalang si Ms. Martinez.
"Kung gusto mo ng socks (bibilhan kita)" kanta nito at nagflex pa ng pera.
"Kung gusto mo ng juice (sasakyan kita)" sabi nito at ginilingan si Ate kaya tawang-tawa kaming lahat sa kalokohan nito.
"What the hell! Umalis ka nga sa harapan ko!" reklamong sambit ni Ate, pero halata naman dito na nagpipigil lang ito ng tawa.
"Ang sakit talaga sa hart, sige kayo na kumanta." saad ni Ms. Martinez at inaabot sa amin 'yung mic.
“Let Cynthia sing,” Ms. Flores said first, her voice light and teasing, but loud enough for everyone to hear over the low hum of the karaoke machine’s background music.
“What? No!” mabilis na sagot ni Cynthia, agad na umiwas sa mikropono na iniabot ni Ms. Flores.
She even leaned back a little, waving her hand in protest, as if the very idea of singing in front of us was some kind of mortal sin.
“Dali na! You’re a good singer,” pangungulit naman ni Ms. Martinez, giving her a playful nudge on the shoulder.
The others were already starting to chime in, some clapping, others whistling, encouraging her to take the mic.
Ako naman, tahimik lang, but I found myself wishing that Ms.
Sanchez would sing too.
I knew she had a good voice.
I remembered a moment before, some casual hums, a verse she mumbled under her breath once.
It wasn’t much—but it was enough to leave an impression.
“Like I said, no,” Ms. Sanchez cut in sharply. Her tone wasn’t angry, but it had an edge that made people pause. She crossed her arms, obviously resisting, but she didn’t look away—just met everyone’s gaze head-on, challenging them to keep pushing.
“Come on, honey, just this once,” Ms. Dizon said, her tone unusually soft.
Ms. Sanchez let out a long sigh, as if she was carrying the weight of the whole evening on her shoulders. Then, finally, she said, “Fine.”
Everyone cheered a little too loudly, and someone even banged on the table in excitement. She walked slowly to the mic, scrolling through the karaoke playlist.
The room quieted slightly, a mix of anticipation and curiosity settling in. I leaned forward a bit, not even realizing I was holding my breath.
She chose a song, and the moment the instrumental started playing, my chest tightened. I knew this song. Sa instrument pa lang nito, kilalang-kilala ko na. A melancholic melody, soft piano and strings, something slow and haunting.
She hadn’t even sung a single word yet, hindi na ako makakalma.
Then, she began.
"Darling, don't move too much,
'Cause you might break the things that you have touched…"
Her voice—Gosh, her voice. It was a rare kind of beautiful. It made me forget where I was. It made me forget everyone else in the room.
I felt something stir deep inside me. With each word she sang, I wanted her more. Not just in a fleeting way, but with a longing that caught me off guard.
"But let me tell you, don't go too far,
And just enjoy this artistic room of ours…”
Her voice danced gently through the lyrics, and for one fleeting second, her eyes found mine. My heart pounded in my chest, loud enough that I was afraid someone might hear it. She looked away just as quickly, returning her focus to the microphone.
"This empty canvas, that they misunderstood,
I wanna paint you in it, but I'm not good.
'Cause I wanna look at you when we are apart,
'Cause you're not just a human being—you are art.”
The room exploded in applause, cheers echoing off the walls. Ms. Martinez clapped loudly and shouted, “NAKAKA-INLOVE NAMAN ‘YAN!” She didn’t even try to hide her amazement.
But the moment her eyes met Ate’s across the room—who was glaring with a sharp, unmistakable look of warning—Ms. Martinez immediately quieted down, shrinking into her seat with an awkward smile.
Even Ate’s friends, who had been too busy with their own conversations earlier, had turned to listen. Now, they were murmuring amongst themselves, visibly impressed.
And me? I sat there frozen, stunned by what I had just seen and heard. Ms. Sanchez, in her own quiet way, had stolen the entire room. But more than that—she had stolen something from me too. Maybe my breath. Maybe my heart.
Or maybe both.
"Ma'am, akin ka nalang!" hirit pa ni Cecilia kaya napatingin ako sa kanya ng masama. "Joke lang po," bulong nito.
"So darling, darling, don't be scared,
'Cause even if I look everywhere," she continued, her voice softening, tender as a whisper but striking deep.
"Your colors caught my eye,
And you're my favorite sight to see."
As she sang those lines, her gaze met mine—just for a second, but it was enough to send a shock through my entire system.
My breath hitched.
It felt like the whole world fell silent, and it was just us—her voice wrapping around me like a warm embrace.
Then she looked away, as if nothing had happened, but that moment stayed with me like a permanent mark.
My heart was pounding—no, racing—inside my chest. The song came to an end, and the room erupted in applause. But I couldn’t hear any of it properly. All I could hear was the echo of her voice in my mind, and feel the weight of that fleeting eye contact.
I leaned toward Ate and whispered that I needed some air. She looked at me briefly, eyes scanning my expression, then nodded. I stepped outside, my hands trembling slightly. The cold night air hit me like a wave, but it didn’t do much to slow down the wild beating of my heart.
I pulled a cigarette from my pocket with shaky fingers and lit it. The first drag calmed me—at least a little. I stood in the dim light just outside the karaoke bar, trying to make sense of what I was feeling.
Why do I feel like this It was like a storm had passed through my chest. Every time she got near, I felt something stir. But after that song, it felt… undeniable.
Just then, I noticed someone approaching.
“You okay? Ba’t nandito ka sa labas? And smoking?” sunod-sunod na tanong ni Eliana habang lumalapit. Her brows were furrowed in concern, her arms crossing as she stopped in front of me.
“Okay lang ako. Ikaw? Okay ka lang?” tanong ko pabalik, forcing a small smile.
“Of course,” sagot niya, and then her tone softened. “By the way, congratulations, Syl!” she added, pulling me into a warm hug. I hugged her back, tighter than I meant to, grateful for her presence. Somehow, she grounded me in that moment.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
“Nandoon sila sa loob. Will you be okay there?” tanong niya, looking at me like she knew there was something off.
“Of course, bakit hindi?” she continued, cocking her head to the side. “Pasok na ako. Okay ka lang dito? O samahan na kita?”
I shook my head gently. “Okay lang ako, you can go inside,” I assured her. She gave me a smile—one of those soft, understanding ones—before heading back into the bar.
I walked over to an old metal chair near the side of the building, sat down, and finished my cigarette in silence. I tilted my head back and looked at the sky. No stars tonight—just a haze of clouds and dim streetlight glow.
What is this feeling? I asked myself again. The way she sang... the way she looked at me. It wasn’t just admiration. It was something else. Something deeper. Something unfamiliar. Was it attraction? Infatuation? Or something even scarier?
My thoughts were spiraling when I heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
“Go inside and stop smoking, Gomez,” said a familiar voice.
I looked up. Ms. Sanchez.
I squinted at her silhouette in the dim light. “Why are you outside, Miss?” I muttered while asking.
“I need to use the restroom,” she replied curtly, not even looking at me.
“There’s a restroom inside—” I started, but she cut me off sharply.
“Oh, shut up! Can you just stop smoking and get inside? It’s dangerous.” Her tone was irritated but laced with something that felt like concern, even if she’d never admit it.
I let out a small laugh. “Concerned about me now?”
“No,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Stop talking nonsense and go inside.”
I looked up at her, slightly pouting. “No. You didn’t even congratulate me earlier.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. It’s your life,” she muttered and walked away without another word.
I watched her retreating figure. What did I even expect? I shook my head and sighed. May lahi talaga ng kasungitan 'yon. But why did it hurt more than it should?
Still, I stayed outside. I wasn’t ready to face the noise and the lights again. I lit another cigarette, hoping the second one would clear my mind more than the first.
That’s when I noticed an elderly woman down the street, struggling to push a cart filled with flattened cardboard boxes. Her steps were slow, heavy, and with each step, she paused to adjust the weight.
Alas-nuwebe na ng gabi… bakit andiyan pa siya?
I got up and walked toward her. “La, tulungan na po kita,” I said gently, reaching for one side of the cart to help her push it.
The old woman looked at me, surprised, then smiled. “Salamat, iha.”
“Gabi na po, La. Bakit nag-iikot pa rin po kayo?” I asked, adjusting my grip as we walked slowly down the sidewalk.
“Kailangan kong mag-ipon ng pera, iha,” sagot niya, voice soft and tired. “Para sa apo kong nasa ospital.”
My heart clenched at her words. “Magkano po nakukuha niyo sa mga karton na 'to, Lola?” I asked, already dreading the answer.
“Pag marami, iha, mga dalawang daan. Kapag kaunti, isang daan lang.” Her voice was calm, like she had accepted this harsh reality long ago.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Saan po bahay niyo, La? Tulungan ko na po kayong makauwi,” I offered.
She smiled kindly and pointed toward a small alley just around the corner. “Diyan lang. Malapit lang.”
We continued walking, my hand still on the cart, silence hanging between us—gentle, not awkward. When we arrived, she turned to me again.
"Sandali lang po." sabi ko at kinuha 'yung wallet ko. Sa totoo lang, wala talaga akong cash, 20k lang, at kinuha ko 'yon at iniabot sa kanya. "Eto po, La. Sana po makatulong na sainyo, wala po kasi akong cash na dala. Pero dadaanan ko po kayo rito bukas," sabi ko at ngumiti.
"Hala iha, huwag na. Malaking pera ito, ayokong tanggapin 'yan," sabi ni Lola habang pilit na inaabot pabalik sa akin ang perang iniabot ko. Her hands were trembling slightly, and I could tell she felt uncomfortable accepting such a large amount.
I held her hand gently and smiled. "Tulong ko na po 'yan sa inyo, La. Please, tanggapin niyo na. I really hope gumaling na po agad ang apo niyo."
She looked at me, eyes welling up with tears, her lips quivering as she tried to speak. "Salamat talaga, iha. Pagpalarin ka pa sana ng Diyos. Malaking tulong na ito, sobra-sobra pa. Hindi ko alam kung paano kita mapapasalamatan."
Her voice cracked a little, and that made my heart ache. I gave her a reassuring smile and nodded. "Okay lang po, La. Ingat po kayo, ha? Uuwi na po ako, baka hinahanap na ako sa amin."
I turned around and started to walk away, but barely a few steps later, my foot caught on something. The narrow alley was cluttered with boxes, rocks, and uneven concrete. Shoot! I lost my balance and stumbled forward.
"Agh!" I cried out as I hit the ground hard. My knee slammed against the rough cement, and the pain shot up my leg like fire. I hissed through my teeth and sat up slowly, checking my knee.
My breath hitched.
There was a large gash on my knee, and blood was already dripping down my leg. The stinging was unbearable—sharp, hot, and persistent. Ugh, ang sakit sobra...
"Pag minamalas ka nga naman," I muttered under my breath, biting my lip to stop myself from groaning louder. I tried to stand up, but the moment I stretched my leg, pain jolted through me again, forcing me to lean on the wall for support.
I glanced around. The alley was deserted. No one was there to help, and I was too far from home to call out. The only sounds were distant tricycle engines and the occasional barking dog.
I took a deep breath and wiped the sweat forming on my forehead. Okay, I can do this. Dahan-dahan lang. Kaya ko 'to.
Each step was a challenge. I had to limp carefully, my weight mostly on my good leg. Every movement stretched the wound and made it throb harder. But I pressed on.
Kahit ganito ang nangyari, at least nakatulong ako kay Lola. Worth it pa rin.
Still, I couldn’t help but think—Of all times to trip, bakit ngayon pa?
"What happened, Gomez!" I heard Ms. Sanchez voice. Bakit siya nandito?
"Why are you here—" naputol ang tanong niya nang mapansin ang itsura ko.
She rushed toward me, eyes widening as she caught sight of the blood on my leg. "Stop asking me! What happened? How did you get that wound?" Her voice was sharp with worry, and her brows were furrowed as she crouched beside me.
I tried to keep my tone calm despite the pain throbbing through my knee. "I just tripped," I said, brushing some dust off my hands. "Sa daan kanina. Hindi ko napansin 'yung nakausling bato."
"You're so clumsy!" she burst out, her voice rising. "Look at your wound! You could’ve gotten seriously hurt!"
I winced—not just because of the pain, but because of her scolding. "I'm okay, can you stop raising your voice?" I said softly, almost pleading. "Okay lang naman ako, promise. Hindi na kailangan ng drama."
She exhaled loudly and ran a hand through her hair, frustrated but clearly worried. "Argh—fine. But seriously, you need to have that cleaned. Tignan mo 'yan, baka ma-infect pa!"
I nodded slightly, trying not to put too much weight on my injured leg. "Oo na, I’ll clean it. Later. I just need to sit for a bit."
She knelt beside me, still glaring, but her hands were gentle as she tried to support me. "Can you walk?" she asked, her tone softer now, though still tense.
"Masakit," I admitted, biting my lip as I tried to stretch my leg again.
"You deserve that. You're being a stubborn. I told you to get inside, didn't I?" 'yan, nagsusungit nanaman.
“Oo na, kasalanan ko na,” I muttered, trying to hide how much the pain was getting to me. “It hurts, can you stop being mad at me?”
She exhaled sharply, clearly trying to calm herself down. Her brows were still knitted together, but her voice softened just a little.
“Hold my hand.”
“Ha?” I blinked at her, confused. Did I hear that right?
“Didn’t you say you can’t walk?” she snapped lightly, rolling her eyes. “Hold my hand, you stupid pufferfish.”
Despite the insult, her tone was filled more with concern than irritation. I reached for her hand without hesitation. It was warm, steady, and surprisingly reassuring.
As soon as our hands touched, I managed to walk a bit better.
My limp was still obvious, but at least I wasn’t swaying or nearly falling anymore.
Tahimik lang kaming naglakad.
I didn’t talk—not because I was annoyed, but because the pain was pulsing through my knee with every step, making it hard to focus on anything else.
She opened the passenger side of her car and helped me in gently. “Let’s go to my car. I have ointment there,” she said firmly. I just nodded, too tired to argue.
A few minutes later, she sat beside me in the car and carefully pulled out a small first aid kit from the glove compartment. She opened it with practiced hands, like she’d done this before.
“Tell me if it hurts,” she murmured, squeezing some ointment onto a clean cotton pad.
The moment she pressed it on my wound, I hissed. “Aray!” I winced, instinctively pulling away a little.
She immediately leaned down and blew gently on the wound to ease the sting.
Her touch was surprisingly tender as she continued applying the ointment with focused care, her brows slightly furrowed as she looked at my injured knee. For a moment, she didn’t speak.
Then, in a low voice, she asked, “How did you end up in that place?”
I glanced at her, debating if I should keep it short or explain. But something in her expression made me want to answer truthfully. “I was helping an elderly woman I saw on the street,” I said. “She needed money for her apo’s medication.”
She paused. “Mhm. ‘Kay,” was all she said, though I noticed her nodding faintly, as if taking mental note of it.
I tilted my head slightly, curious now. “You, Miss? Why were you there?”
“I just wanted to walk,” she answered simply, but her eyes briefly flicked away from mine. “And then I saw you.”
“Really?” I teased, raising an eyebrow, a small smile playing at my lips despite the pain.
She didn’t answer. She just rolled her eyes again and focused on gently placing a bandage over my wound. The silence between us wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable, like we didn’t need to fill it with unnecessary words.
“Done,” she finally said. “Be careful next time. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
I nodded, about to open the car door to leave when she suddenly spoke again.
“Wait.”
I turned my head to look at her. “Hmm?”
"Congratulations, Gomez. On winning," she said, making me smile. "Also, you looked gorgeous earlier."