"There are incredible things in this world that we cannot explain. But what matters is that the heart believes and remembers what the mind refuses to comprehend."

Manang Ana's last words as she waved goodbye stuck to me, which made me obsess about everything there was to know about Segunda Katigbak and Jose Rizal. I was so obsessed with their relationship that I neglected what my mom and I had. One day, my mom may finally have had enough.

"I swear I befriended Segunda," I said firmly. "And I want to go back and take care of her again."

"To the point of not taking care of yourself? I let you be because I thought this was just a phase, but this is too much already," my mom huffed as she ripped out the pages of the scrapbook that I was piecing together, which was dedicated to everything about Segunda.

"Your going back to the past wasn't real! Wake up, anak! You're wasting your future by neglecting your studies while working on your–" my mom hesitated and stopped midway of ruining my work.

"My what, Ma? Come on, say it!" I said, taunting her, but she refused to say anything. I could feel the hot tears burning my cheeks as I picked up the torn pieces.

"You told me to trust you, so I told you everything I experienced in the Casa that day!" I screamed, tears still flowing out of my eyes nonstop. "I thought you believed in me! But jokes on me, all this time, you thought I was just making up stories and imagining things!"

I grappled against her for the scrapbook, but she dropped it and tried to hug me instead.

"I'm sorry. I thought it was just a way for you to cope with your Papa's loss, so I tried to understand you as much as I could," mom said in a gentler manner.

"I knew your Papa told you to take care of Casa de Segunda, and that your Papa and Lola believed in the lies that Manang Ana was feeding them, but you don't have to, anak! You don't need to make up stories just so you can have evidence of your connection with your ancestor. The house and the blood flowing through your veins are enough proof that you're Segunda Katigbak's kin!"

"Manang Ana gave me a white rose, the same rose that Jose Rizal gave me! You could ask her. I know she knows the house was enchanted!"

"Enough," mom said firmly. "I had always been wary of Manang Ana, for she has some crazy antics and ideas. Don't let her get to you."

I looked at her in disbelief.

"Then why let her stay in the house, Ma? Are you keeping her there out of pity?"

"Yes! Is that bad? I wanted to help her because we're the only ones she had left, but I don't want to risk anyone thinking you're like her."

I shook my head.

"I don't want to hear any more of your judgment, mom," I said, picking up the torn scrapbook. "Since you don't believe me, I'm done doing this."

Mom let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, you don't care about my efforts to put these together either, so I'm also done with you. I want nothing to do with that house, our ancestors ..." I said, choking on my words. "... and this family. Especially this family. Especially you."

I saw mom's pained expression, her eyes welling with tears. I looked away, feeling numb, choosing not to hear any of her pleas for me to stay. All I cared about then was coddling my own feelings and the thought of getting out of the house and never coming back. So, I packed my bags on the spot, not caring about her.

Now, here I am, avoiding anything related to Segunda, the idea of ancestors, and even Jose Rizal since the day I ran away from home after snapping at my mom for not believing in me. But I guess I cannot run away forever as I finally had to take the Rizal course as mandated by law, with a much-needed incentive made possible by attending a book launch by Prof. Apolaki Olanday, a renowned historian who had his expertise built around Rizal's life.

"In his diary, Memorias de un Estudiante de Manila, Rizal devoted one chapter to what we could consider his first chance at love," the speaker's staticky voice boomed from the speakers.

Just my luck. The excerpt he chose to read was about Segunda.

"There, he mentioned a lady, whom we all assumed was Segunda Katigbak. She was the first one written with a hint of profound admiration, lovingly referred to as K ..."

"Oh, it's your namesake!" Fanny, my classmate, who I tagged along with, jokingly exclaimed while giggling, but she was interrupted when it was already her turn to sign the registration.

My eyes widened, and I could feel my lips parting in a gap. I held my head and placed my hand on Fanny's shoulder to steady myself.

"... and whom he described in his writings as not the most beautiful woman he has ever met, but probably the most enchanting and alluring."

The last few words echoed through my head as I felt my knees turn to a gel, wobbling as I struggled to keep my balance while still holding Fanny's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Fanny asked when she looked at me after I finished signing. I felt my tears stream down my cheeks as soon as she asked that, which caught her by surprise. She faked a giggle, trying to hide her shock, then jokingly said, "I didn't know you'd be that emotional over Jose Rizal's memoir."

*****

Days after Prof. Olanday's book launch, I finally got the courage to come home, having a newfound need to embrace my responsibility to keep the family legacy intact and become the living testament that Jose Rizal was very much alive. To continue telling the tale that he once had been an awkward teenager that had fallen in love more than once, emotions that make him more human beyond his heroic deeds.

After many tears, apologies, and hugs, my mom and I reconciled and agreed to manage Casa de Segunda together. But I cannot help but think about the mystery of Manang Ana's existence, as she suddenly vanished without a trace, and almost at the same time that I ran away from home.

But one day, it dawned on me who she was when I came across Philippine mythology. It might not have been a coincidence that Manang Ana came from a vegetable farm; Ana ... Gulay ... Anagolay. She is the Philippine goddess of lost things, and her golden pocket clock necklace when she waved her hand while we were leaving made this more likely to be true. She might have protected the memories held by the ancestral house from being lost. I uttered a silent prayer of appreciation for her, hopeful she would come back and protect our home again.

As if on cue, a middle-aged lady appeared from the Casa's gate. I looked at her from head to toe, taking in the multi-colored fitted dress she was wearing, which changed its color like the LED lights of a billboard. She looked at me in the same manner and said, "I didn't know they still produced clothes like that these days."

"What do you mean?" I asked, but I already have a hunch about who she was and where she came from. I stared at her some more, checking her face for any familiarity. Indeed, I saw hints of my likeness to her, and her face was akin to the elderly Segunda's photographs in the Casa.

"I mean, with the catastrophe last 2051? I didn't know you'd still have those types of clothes. Though that might be just some old stock you have," she replied. "Anyway, may I come in? Ana said I should go here to ask for help in rebuilding the Casa de Segunda."

I smiled at the thought of Manang Ana coming back to guide our family's next generation. "I might not be the best to guide you for that," I answered simply, aware that it might not be the present me who she must be talking to. "Try coming back another time. I'm sure the house will open its doors once again and reveal who you really need to see."

END