Stephan's final days at the Manalo residence had arrived; he was due to leave in four days. He had filled these last moments creating a trove of memories. One morning, as Mrs. Manalo was preparing breakfast, Stephan entered the kitchen to help. š¤
Seeing him, she wished him good morning, and he returned the greeting, asking if he could assist. She tasked him with cleaning the fish, and as they worked side by side, a comfortable conversation began.
"So, what do you do in Canada now, son?" she asked. š©
"I help my father with his businesses, Aunty," he replied, focused on his task.
"That's good. Your father was one of our closest friends, you know. We lost touch a bit after he moved to Canada," she said, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.š£
"Yes, Aunty. Dad talks about you all often. He always says how much you helped him back in the day," Stephan shared.
"He helped us too. We helped each other. It was a beautiful time," she said, her mind drifting to the past. š
With Stephan's help, the cooking was finished much quicker than usual. As they carried dishes to the table, Mrs. Manalo spoke softly, her voice tinged with a maternal warmth. "I often think how nice it would be to have a son like you."
Stephan's usual easygoing demeanor softened. "You've felt like a mother to me these past weeks, Aunty," he confessed, his voice dropping. "My own mother... she passed away giving birth to me. I never knew a mother's warmth. As a kid, I'd even feel jealous seeing other children with their mothers." šŖ
"Oh, my dear... I didn't mean to bring up a sad memory," Mrs. Manalo said, her heart going out to him. She gave his back a gentle, comforting pat. "Well, come on now. To me, you're just like a son. Come, sit and eat."
She then called out to Kirana and Mr. Manalo to join them at the table, the simple morning meal now imbued with a newfound tenderness and the unspoken acknowledgment of a bond that had quietly formed, filling a small, lonely space in both their hearts. š