Four days had passed, and Yssa sat back in her chair, watching her students shuffle through their bags, pulling out pencils and notebooks. She had assigned them a seatwork on verb tenses, asking them to craft sentences for each form. It was a typical, quiet, rain-soaked July morning, the kind of day where the world felt softened by the steady hum of raindrops outside the window. Yssa took a deep breath, soaking in the peace of the moment. Her students were focused, attentive—a teacher's small victory.

But her mind wasn't entirely in the classroom. Before class began, Elisha had handed her a note—small, folded, and yellowing at the edges like a page torn from an old atlas. Yssa hadn't opened it right away, unsure of what awaited inside. She had been thinking about Seth more than usual, and seeing Jeanne drop off Elisha instead of him had left her with a subtle, nagging disappointment. She missed him, more than she wanted to admit.

Now, with her students engrossed in their work, she carefully unfolded the paper. A faint map of Italy ran through it, as though the note had been torn from history. The message was simple, but it struck her heart:

To the most beautiful woman I know ---

I woke up this morning and the first person in my mind was you.

Life is an endless musical, I get to be the hero but no one as the heroine.

Will you make everything all right?

See you later at five,

Seth

Yssa couldn't help but smile, tucking the note into her purse. Her heart raced at the thought of seeing him later. It was Friday, "wash day" for the faculty, and she was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a black DKNY blouse that accentuated her figure just right. Still casual, but with a hint of something more. Just right for a rainy afternoon and maybe...a little reunion. But her smile faltered slightly—Glenn had mentioned he might pick her up today. The situation suddenly felt complicated.

She glanced around the room, making sure everyone was still on task. Elisha caught her eye, grinning as if she knew something. Yssa smiled back, motioning for her to focus on her work, but the playful smirk didn't leave the girl's face. The note stayed safely in Yssa's purse now; no way was she letting the kids stumble upon it.

* * *

Later, as the clock struck five, Yssa sat at her desk, trying to look busy, though her mind was elsewhere. Brandon stood nearby, eating a Big Mac and glancing at her between bites.

"You look like you're waiting for something... or someone," Brandon teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up, Brandon," she replied, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the nervous energy bubbling under her skin.

"I'm just saying," he said, grinning, "if Glenn shows up, I'll handle it. Promise."

"Are you making decisions for me now?"

"Nope," Brandon smirked, "but if you need me to, I will."

The conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Brandon opened it, and standing there was Seth. Seth in the afternoon. Natural, subtle, and always looking mysterious. Casual, yet striking as ever in the same Adidas jacket he wore last time, looking every bit like someone who could make a room stop just by entering. Yssa's heart skipped a beat.

"Hey, Seth," Brandon greeted, stepping aside to let him in. Yssa stood as Seth approached, their eyes meeting in an instant that seemed like an eternity.

"Hi, Yssa," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Did you get my note?"

"I did," she replied, smiling up at him. "Thank you."

Their conversation was tentative at first, a dance of familiar glances and soft words, but neither was quite ready to dive into the feelings swirling beneath the surface. Yssa wasn't sure what she wanted to say, only that she wanted to be near him. Seth seemed just as unsure, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if he was once again that boy from long ago who hadn't yet learned how to talk to girls.

After a brief pause, he finally spoke. "How about dinner? At the mall?"

Her answer came quickly, "I'd like that." She remembered her reply a few nights ago when Seth asked if he could see her again.

Together, they walked out of the school and into the soft drizzle. A little closer than last Sunday. Their steps were slightly wobbly, both feeling the intensity of the moment.

The weather was cool, refreshing, and the rain had slowed to a mere mist.

Seth looked at her again from the corner of his eye. He sifted through his thoughts as he remembered the night at the terrace and their lunch at Wimpy's. He remembered it all in detail, as always, looking down at the cement parkway. Everything she did seemed electric to him. Charged.

Yssa knew by his silence he was thinking of her, and she liked it. She didn't know what his thoughts were exactly, of course, didn't care really, just knew they were about her and that was enough. She thought about their past conversations and wondered about his loneliness. For some reason, she knew what he felt at that moment.

Seth opened the car door for her, and as they drove away, the familiar sound of Coldplay's Yellow played through the speakers. Yssa smiled at the song, at the ease of being with him, and at the gentle warmth spreading in her chest.

"I love that song," Yssa broke his thoughts.

"I love that song, too," he said, looking at the road then glanced at her. "It's a happy song." They laughed together after he said it.

* * *

Glenn arrived at the office after the two had left, his eyes scanning for Yssa. Brandon approached him, offering a flimsy excuse, his words lacking conviction. He told Glenn that Yssa was at a student's house, conducting English tutoring sessions. Glenn stood there, momentarily stunned, unsure whether to believe him or not. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he wished Brandon a good day and walked away. That wasn't so hard, Brandon thought, gathering his belongings as he prepared to head home.

* * *

By the time they arrived at the mall, the evening was settling in, and the air was crisp. Seth offered her his jacket as they walked through the chilly, air-conditioned halls. Yssa pulled it close, inhaling the scent that clung to it—a mix of something warm, earthy, and undeniably him.

After wandering for a while, they ended up in a bookstore, where they browsed through shelves of novels. Seth watched as Yssa's eyes lit up at the sight of Anne Rice's works, her fingers skimming over the pages of Blood and Gold. He smiled, charmed by her fascination with the dark and mysterious.

Seth watched as she smelled the book's pages. In a way, it reminded him of Kristina. It was what she used to do every time they went to a bookstore. Again, he felt guilty, though he did his best to push aside the feelings.

They walked to the far side of the store where the locally published books were displayed. There, on one of the shelves, sat three of Seth's titles, nestled between novels by Bob Ong. Yssa, always playful, teased him as she pulled one from the stack. She burst into laughter after seeing his picture on the back cover. He laughed along with her, the sound soft and easy.

"You look a little thinner here. And younger," she said, pointing at the photo.

"Yeah, I do," he replied quietly. "That was taken about three years ago. It's one of the hardest novels I've ever written. Took me almost a year to finish."

As they stood there, a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, approached them from behind, her eyes wide with recognition. Seth glanced at her, then quickly looked away.

"Excuse me, are you Seth Santiago, the novelist?" she asked, her voice tinged with awe. Yssa blinked, momentarily surprised that these kinds of moments were a part of his life.

The young woman continued, "I loved your book about the war veteran. Could I ask for an autograph?"

Seth hesitated, his discomfort clear. "No, I'm not Seth. I'm his brother," he lied smoothly, trying to deflect her attention. Yssa watched him, intrigued by how uneasy he seemed around his admirers. And somehow, that vulnerability only deepened her affection for him.

"Oh," the woman replied, her excitement deflating as she turned away.

"So, can we eat now?" Seth asked. Yssa chuckled, shaking her head at his abrupt shift.

"Are you always like that with your fans?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"I'll tell you on the way to the restaurant," he said, still smiling.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see," he replied, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

As they exited the store, Yellow played again, and Seth couldn't help but laugh. "Looks like the universe wants us to hear this song," he said, his voice light.

Yssa laughed, too. "Maybe it does."

* * *

From the ground floor, they made their way up two levels. Seth had never been to Sbarro, though some of his friends had raved about it, saying it was the perfect place to take someone special. It was an Italian restaurant with branches scattered all over the country—almost every mall in Metro Manila had one. And now it was in Olongapo. They served every kind of pasta you could imagine, from spaghetti to baked macaroni, along with an array of pizzas.

At the counter, Seth turned to Yssa and asked what she wanted. She smiled softly and said, "The same as you," leaving the choice up to him. He ordered two half-portioned baked Zitis—baked pasta smothered in a creamy white sauce—along with plenty of garlic bread and two tall mugs of iced tea. He had a particular fondness for garlic bread, something Yssa quickly picked up on, especially when he started nibbling on a piece even before he paid. Sbarro operated on a pay-as-you-order system, and by the time the bill was settled, Seth had already finished half a bread.

Carrying the tray, he led them to a table near the center of the room, Yssa following close behind. They settled into their seats, facing each other, and began to talk between bites.

Seth shared stories from his childhood in Ternate, reminiscing about the adventures he had with his father. His dad had been a fisherman. He'd owned several boats and ran his own small fishing company. Back in the day, they supplied fresh seafood to nearly all the towns in Cavite. It was how their family had built a modest fortune, enough to buy a house in Olongapo and ensure both Seth and his sister Jeanne could finish their education.

After his parents passed away, Jeanne decided to give most of the boats to the fishermen who had worked for their family all those years. She said it was their way of showing gratitude. Seth hadn't objected; he knew it was what their father would have wanted. Two boats, however, were still in operation, managed by his father's closest friends, Tata Juancho and Tata Guring. Both men, lifelong bachelors, also looked after their property in Ternate. Seth joked that he and Jeanne were lucky the two never married—they were like family.

As they ate, he spoke fondly of his father's talent for words. His dad had been a poet, writing countless poems for Seth's mother, each one carefully penned in a diary that Jeanne now kept safe. Seth smiled, admitting that his love for writing came from his father. It was a gift, passed down like a legacy, and one he cherished deeply.

Yssa listened, captivated. She never would have guessed that Seth was the son of a fisherman—and a poet at that. A writer, born to a bard of the sea, she mused, smiling to herself, the image reminding her of Ernest Hemingway. Now it all made sense—Seth's athleticism, his quiet, romantic nature, his artistic soul—he all got it from his father. She was grateful that he was opening up, sharing pieces of his life with her. There was nothing to hide; yes, his father had been a fisherman, a man of success and heart.

Seth finished speaking as he wrapped up his meal. Yssa, still absorbed in his stories, realized she couldn't finish hers. To her surprise, Seth reached over and began eating the rest of her food, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Homey, she thought with a warm smile, enjoying the ease between them. Once her plate was cleared, he downed the last of his iced tea and glanced at her.

"Let's go sit outside," he suggested, gesturing toward the benches just beyond the restaurant. Yssa grabbed her iced tea, and together they found a bench along the edge of the food court. They sat side by side, Yssa leaning back slightly to get a clearer view of his face.

For a long while, neither of them spoke, a comfortable silence settling between them. Yssa slowly finished her drink, the quiet around them somehow soothing. When she drained the last drop, Seth took her empty cup without a word, brought it back inside, and returned to sit beside her once again.

"What are you thinking?" Seth asked softly as he sat down.

The sound of his voice sent a small flutter through Yssa, catching her off guard. "Good things," she replied quietly, her heart quickening. She saw the knowing look in his eyes—he could tell she was thinking about him. And she liked that he knew. She always hoped, deep down, that maybe he had been thinking of her, too.

"I was just thinking about how nice it is, sitting here in silence with you," he continued, his voice low and sincere. "Just you and me, side by side. It feels good, doesn't it? Just being together."

"It does," Yssa agreed with a smile. She casually flipped her hair over her shoulder, the gesture so familiar, so reminiscent of Kristina. For a moment, Seth froze.

"Is everything okay?" Yssa asked, noticing the shift in him.

He nodded, but his discomfort was evident. After a long pause, he spoke again. "I have a question."

"What is it?" she asked, sensing the seriousness in his tone.

Seth looked away before answering, a habit she recognized as his way of masking nerves. "How come you don't have a boyfriend?"

Yssa raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Why? Does that surprise you?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "A woman like you... you must have your pick of men."

She smiled, though his compliment stirred something uneasy within her. He was avoiding her gaze, focusing on the ground instead. "That's sweet of you to say," she replied, feeling a twinge of guilt for not being entirely honest. But now didn't feel like the right time for confessions. "It's just not that simple. There are a lot of things I have to consider when I meet someone." She paused, then looked at him. "What about you? Why aren't you seeing anyone?"

Seth shrugged. "I guess... I just haven't met anyone I really want to see on a regular basis."

"Is that all?" she pressed, sensing there was more.

It was a moment of truth, and Seth knew it. He couldn't keep avoiding the subject of Kristina, even if it felt impossible to bring her up. For the first time, he found himself wanting Yssa to know everything—every part of his past, even the parts that still haunted him.

"No," he said finally, his voice low. "That's not all." He cleared his throat, the weight of his words gathering. Yssa watched him closely as he stared straight ahead, his thoughts miles away, yet all too present.

"I had a girl once," Seth finally said, his voice heavy with emotion. "For six years." He turned toward her, his eyes carrying a weight that made Yssa instinctively pull back. "But she passed away."

"I'm so sorry," Yssa whispered, her voice barely audible.

"No, it's alright," he responded quickly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "It happened five years ago. Since then... I haven't been interested in anyone else. I wasn't even looking." He paused, feeling the unease wash over him. He'd kept this part of his life hidden for so long, only sharing it with his sister Jeanne. And now here he was, telling a woman he barely knew, someone who had somehow unlocked doors inside him that he thought would remain closed forever.

Yssa stayed silent, watching him closely. She could see the pain etched in his expression and immediately regretted bringing it up. Still, the first words that came to her mind slipped out before she could stop them.

"Tell me about her."

"Kristina?" Seth mumbled, her name falling from his lips like a weight. It was the first time he had spoken her name in years.

Yssa felt her breath catch in her throat. A surge of unexpected jealousy swept through her, though she quickly pushed it aside. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes. I do," she said softly, her voice gentle and sincere.

Seth took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, searching for the right words to capture who Kristina had been. He wanted to explain, to help Yssa, of all people, understand the woman who had once been his entire world. He glanced at her, and when their eyes met, he began, his voice low and tender.

"She was my life. She had this way of brightening up a room, a mall, even a whole city." He gestured as he spoke, his hands painting the air with memories. "She was beautiful, charming, with this quick sense of humor that could catch you off guard. And she was so, so sweet. I'd known her practically my entire life. We grew up together—same school from primary to secondary. We even went to college together, studying the same course. I first learned how to tie my shoelaces, and she was there. We were best friends before we became anything more. But we became lovers in college. Six years together, and they were the best six years of my life."

He paused, his voice breaking as the memories overwhelmed him. "She passed away two years after we graduated. Leukemia... She was gone and we couldn't do anything about it." Seth's voice faltered, his eyes filling with tears. He couldn't find the words to continue.

"Kristina," he whispered, his voice laced with desperation. "What can I do for you?"

She had been asleep for hours, her frail body barely moving beneath the blankets. He sat beside her bed, watching her with a quiet intensity, his heart aching with how much he loved her. Her hand, thin and delicate, rested in his, and he could feel the sharpness of her bones beneath his fingertips. He pressed her hand to his chest, trying to hold on to the strength he once knew in her.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked at him, her gaze soft but tired.

"Seth," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "Why are you crying?"

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but the words came out ragged and broken. "I've been thinking about all our years together," he said, his voice trembling.

She gave him a weak smile, her lips curving gently as if she, too, had been reliving their memories. "I've been thinking about them, too."

Tears welled in his eyes as he gazed at her, his love for her overwhelming him. "I love you, Kristina," he whispered, his voice full of emotion. Her eyes, tired but still bright, met his, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift.

She sighed softly, her fingers brushing through his hair with the same tenderness she'd always shown him. "I love you, too," she finally whispered, her voice faint but filled with everything she couldn't put into words.

The way Seth spoke about Kristina pierced Yssa's heart more than she could have imagined. It wasn't just the tremor in his voice; it was the look on his face, caught in a bittersweet struggle between the beauty of his memories and the pain of remembering. She felt a sense of regret for having asked.

"I'm sorry..." he finally murmured.

"Why?" she asked, confusion knitting her brow.

"I shouldn't have told you about her. Or shared so much about myself," he admitted, his tone heavy with remorse.

"It's okay, Seth. I wanted to know. I asked you, remember?"

"I didn't mean to sound like I did," he replied, as if he were confessing a crime. Yssa leaned closer, reaching for his hand. She squeezed it gently, and when their eyes met, she noticed the surprise in his gaze—but he didn't pull away.

"You lost someone you truly loved—something most people can't even begin to understand. I didn't know what it was like either," she continued softly. "Your feelings say a lot about you. You're the kind of person who loves someone forever... and that's nothing to be ashamed of."

A sense of relief washed over him as she spoke, and he realized the truth in her words. She squeezed his hand again, the warmth of her touch wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. For reasons he couldn't quite grasp, he didn't want to let go.

"Thank you, Yssa. Thank you for listening," he said, meeting her gaze.

"Anytime, Seth. Anytime," she replied gently.

He managed a weak smile. "I just realized I've told you a lot about myself—more than I usually share. I was nearly the only one talking."

"Is it because I'm a teacher and supposed to be a good listener?" she teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

"No, it's not that at all," he smiled, appreciating her attempt to ease the tension.

"Then what is it?"

He looked at her with a mix of surprise and affection. "You don't know?"

"No," she said, her smile inviting him to continue.

He hesitated, unsure how to articulate feelings he struggled to comprehend himself. "Soon. You'll find out soon," he said, his smile returning as he motioned for them to leave.

Seth drove her home, and for the first time, he caught a glimpse of her apartment from the outside. He didn't go up, and Yssa didn't invite him.

As he backed out of her driveway, Yssa waved goodbye, watching until his car turned around and disappeared down the lane, its taillights fading from view. After the sound of the engine was gone, she took a deep breath and climbed the stairs to her apartment, preparing for bed.

Later that night, as the damp July air settled around Olongapo City, Seth found himself overwhelmed with longing. The rain fell softly outside, mirroring the ache in his heart as he wished for Yssabelle Gonzales. Wishing for life to be easier, simpler. The guilt still stung his heart from time to time, and he felt powerless to stop it.