The scent of freshly turned soil mixed with the crisp air of the early morning. Horses neighed in the distance, their hooves echoing off the stable walls like an omen.
“Are you sure about this?” Calix asked as he parked the car by the wooden fence. His voice was low, careful. Not out of fear, but out of respect. He knew i wasn’t in the mood for softness today.
I didn’t answer right away.
My eyes were fixed on the familiar stretch of green, the paddock i used to train in.
The same place where i broke my first fall. The same place where he taught me how to hold my ground.
Putangina. Akala ko wala na siya sa buhay ko. Akala ko matagal na siyang nilamon ng apoy kasama si Paul. Pero andito siya. Buo. Buhay. At para bang walang nangyari.
“Let’s go,” I said instead, stepping out.
The gravel crunched beneath my boots. My riding boots. Worn-out, scratched at the sides. Hindi ako nagbihis para magmukhang formal. I came here ready for war.
Lucien was by the far stables.
Shirt soaked in sweat, sleeves rolled, instructing a junior rider on posture. His voice was calm. Collected. Familiar.
I froze.
“Juanito Javier,” I said loud enough for the wind to carry it.
His back stiffened.
The young rider glanced between us, then wisely turned her horse around and trotted away.
Lucien slowly turned to face me.
His eyes, those eyes.
The same ones i used to look into when i fell off the swing sa old backyard namin sa California.
The same eyes i saw glancing at Paul during those lazy afternoons habang naglalaro kami ng chalk at tubig.
The same eyes that haunted my dreams every time i remembered the fire.
“Aurora,” he said carefully. Too carefully.
“You son of a bitch.”
Calix flinched beside me. I didn’t care.
“You lied,” I said, stepping forward. “You trained me. You looked me in the eye every damn day while pretending you didn’t destroy my life.”
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, voice trembling. “Don’t you dare.”
Sixteen fucking years. Akala ko patay na si Paul. Akala ko... siya ang sinakripisyo mo para makaligtas ako. Tapos ngayon? Ngayon mo lang ako haharapin?
“I didn’t know you remembered,” Lucien said quietly.
That made me snap.
“I REMEMBER EVERYTHING!” My voice cracked. “I remember the fire. I remember Paul pushing me out. I remember you shouting his name. I remember my parents pulling me away while the house burned. I remember you running back in. I remeber how you smile while holding a lighter AND I REMEMBER NEVER SEEING PAUL AGAIN!”
I felt Calix’s hand graze my back.
Not to silence me. Just to say i’m here.
Lucien swallowed hard. “You’ve only been told one side of the story.”
“Oh, really? Then fucking tell me yours.”
He hesitated.
“No more lies, Juanito. No more silence. I want the truth. And i want it now.”
Lucien turned toward the stable door and motioned for us to follow. “Come inside.”
Bakit ako sumusunod?
Kahit gusto kong suntukin siya, gusto kong marinig ‘yung totoo. Kahit masakit. Kahit hindi ako ready.
The stable office was small. Dusty. Smelled like leather and smoke.
Lucien closed the door.
His hands trembled as he poured water into glasses. I didn’t take mine.
“Sixteen years ago,” he began, “your parents were hiding something far bigger than you understood. Paul wasn’t just my son. He was... a liability to them.”
My jaw clenched. “Why?”
“Because he saw something. Something he wasn’t supposed to.”
Putangina.
Hindi ito ‘yung akala kong kwento.
“What did he see?” I whispered.
Lucien looked me straight in the eye. “Your father’s accounts. Offshore. Illegal. He used our home as a drop point for documents. Paul was playing with one of the briefcases and accidentally took photos using your old toy camera. He didn’t even know what he saw—but your parents panicked.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“You think i started the fire?” he said, bitterly. “No. Your mother did. To destroy evidence.”
“That’s a lie,” I said, voice shaking. “That’s a fucking lie—”
“Is it?” he snapped. “Why do you think they separated us that day? Why were you pulled away while Paul was still inside? Why was i locked out when i came back?”
Hindi. Hindi. Hindi pwedeng totoo ‘to.
“My mother told me Paul was dead,” I said. “She said it was your fault. That you ran back and let him burn—”
“Because that’s the version she needed you to believe.”
Lucien stood up and walked toward a locked drawer.
He pulled out a photo.
It was grainy.
Taken on a cheap phone.
A man. Same as Paul. Holding a violin. In a school in Davao.
“This was five years ago,” he said. “That’s Paul.”
My knees buckled.
Calix caught me before i fell. “What?”
“He’s alive?” I choked. “He’s alive and you... you left him there?!”
“I didn’t leave him,” Lucien said, voice breaking. “He was taken. Your father had men who kept tabs on him. Hid him. Changed his name. He didn’t even know who i was when i found him again.”
“And now?” I asked. “Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. He ran.”
“Ran?” I snapped. “What the fuck do you mean he ran?”
“He doesn’t trust me anymore. I wasn’t able to protect him when it mattered.”
Silence.
Then my voice, quiet. Deadly.
“I want to find him.”
Lucien nodded.
“I want to make my parents pay.”
He looked at me. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
I stood up straighter.
Hindi na ako bata. Hindi na ako ‘yung inosente mong tinuruan sa kabayo. Ako na ‘yung babaeng hindi natutulog sa gabi sa kakaisip kung bakit kailangan mamatay ang bestfriend ko. Ako ‘yung babaeng hindi nananahimik sa kasinungalingan.
“I don’t want peace, Juanito,” I said. “I want justice.”