Jay Jay's POV:
The wheelchair felt like a cage as Tita Gemma pushed me toward the hospital exit. My left leg was a heavy, throbbing weight in its cast, and every bump in the floor made my vision swim with white spots of pain.
"I've got her, Gemma," a voice said.
It was Percy. I didn't need to see his face to recognize him; that deep, steady hum was the same one I'd heard through phone receivers a dozen times. He had always been a voice from another world, someone I only saw in person once or twice in passing. But now, he was the one lifting me from the wheelchair with practiced ease. I flinched, my body instinctively bracing for a pain that didn't come because he held me so steadily.
"Percy?" I whispered as he settled me into the passenger seat of his car.
"Yeah, Jay?" He started the engine, his eyes hidden behind dark lenses.
"When can I meet... our father?"
The car drifted into a heavy silence. Percy's grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white. He didn't look at me. "You can't. Not now. It's too dangerous, Jay. Between Keifer's relatives and the people looking for me... you're safer not knowing where he is."
"Safer?" I let out a dry, hollow laugh that didn't reach my eyes. "Look at my leg, Percy. Look at my life. Does this look safe to you?"
He looked pained. He reached over and ruffled my hair, trying to act like a "big brother" should, but I didn't react. I just leaned my head against the cold glass of the window and stared at the blurred trees. He tried to crack a joke about the strawberry snacks I used to love, but I didn't even twitch. I didn't have the energy to move the muscles required to smile.
-
Returning to Tita Gemma's house didn't feel like coming home. It felt like being moved from one clinical room to another
The first day, I spent staring at the ceiling, the phantom pain of the car hitting me was paiful but keifer's words were more , they kept replaying every time I closed my eyes.
I could hear Tita Gemma crying in the kitchen, her voice low as she talked to Kuya Angelo about my "hollow" and "lifeless" expression.
"She won't eat, Angelo," she whispered. "She just stares. It's like she's not even there."
I wanted to tell her I was sorry. I wanted to tell her I was trying. But every time I opened my mouth, the memory of the car's headlights and Keifer's "plan" choked the words back down.
On the second day,
I forced myself to use my crutches to get to the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror.
I looked like a stranger. My skin was pale, my eyes were sunken, and the heavy cast on my leg made me look lopsided and broken. I reached for my brush, but my hand shook so hard it clattered into the sink.
I didn't pick it up. I just let it stay there.
The tension with Aries was like a physical weight in the house. One afternoon, I was struggling to get down the stairs. My crutch slipped on the polished wood, and I gasped, my heart hammering against my ribs as I braced for another fall.
A hand shot out and gripped my arm, steadying me.
I looked up, hoping—just for a second—to see the brother who used to protect me. But Aries was looking at me with a face made of stone. The moment I was stable, he ripped his hand away as if my skin had burned him.
"Watch where you're going," he muttered, his voice cold and sharp. "I don't want to explain to Gemma why you're back in the ER."
"Aries, please," I whispered. "Why do you hate me so much? What did I do?"
He paused, his back to me. I saw his shoulders tense, his hands curling into fists. For a moment, I thought he might finally tell me about the day I stabbed him—the memory I couldn't find. But he didn't. He just walked away, leaving me trembling on the stairs.
To "sheer" me up ,
Tita Gemma had transformed my bedroom into a mini-infirmary. There were flowers that smelled too sweet and extra pillows that felt like they were swallowing me whole. Every hour, she would crack the door open, her face a mask of forced cheer.
"Jay, sweetie? I made some sopas. Just a few spoonfuls?"
I would turn my head toward the window. I wasn't hungry for soup. I wasn't hungry for anything. I just watched the shadows of the trees crawl across the floor.
Percy came by every evening. He didn't say much, but he would sit in the chair by my bed and peel oranges for me, leaving the slices on a small plate.
"You have to go back to school eventually, Jay," he said, his voice low. "The semester won't wait for your leg to knit back together."
"I don't want to go back," I said, staring at the wall. "Everyone will look at me. Section E... they'll be there."
"I'll drive you," Percy promised. "And if anyone touches you, or if that cold-blooded Keifer tries to approach you before he leaves for London, you tell me. Understand?"
I nodded, though I didn't think Keifer would have the nerve to show his face. I didn't know that he was still in Manila, delaying his departure just to see if I would survive the first day back.