Later that evening, Seth caught the last bus to Ternate, Cavite, arriving a little after midnight. As he stepped into the house, he saw Tata Guring asleep on the living room couch, but he didn't have the heart to wake him. Just as he was about to head to his room, Tata Juancho emerged from the bathroom and greeted him briefly before Seth retreated to his room.

Lying in bed, Seth couldn't escape the thoughts racing through his mind. The events of the day played on a loop, refusing to let him rest. He switched off the lamp on his bedside table, and once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he gazed through the gap in the curtains.

Moonlight spilled onto his bed, and for a moment, he imagined Kristina's face smiling at him, like she always did. The memory soothed him, and as he stared at the soft light, his body finally relaxed, his eyes drifting closed.

* * *

The house, built in 1936, stood as a testament to history. Originally owned by a Spanish businessman who befriended his father, it had become their family's cherished home after his dad purchased it. Despite numerous renovations over the last fifty years, stripping away much of its original charm, it remained one of the largest and oldest homes in Cavite.

Nestled on a 5,000-square-meter beachfront, it was a piece of paradise—a stretch of coconut trees lined the shore, and a small cottage stood near the rocks. The sand was littered with seashells, and the beach stretched for over a kilometer, untouched and tranquil, a sanctuary for those lucky enough to be there.

But only a select few were ever allowed to experience its beauty. It was private, reserved for the Santiago family, and tended by the ever-faithful Tata Guring and Tata Juancho. Tourists never spoiled its shores. Seth often retreated here when life in the city became too much—a place where he could escape, think, and find the quiet he desperately needed.

He thought back to the summers spent here with his sister Jeanne, and later with Kristina. They had shared so many memories, picnicking on the sand, swimming under the stars, and building campfires to keep warm during the cool night air. The cottage near the rocks was where they would sleep, huddled together beneath blankets, their laughter echoing over the sound of the waves.

But today, the beach felt different. Seth spent most of the day swimming, walking the shore, and climbing the coconut trees to gather fruit. He tried to write, but his thoughts kept circling back to Yssa. He felt hurt, betrayed, wondering why he had let himself care so much. By late afternoon, he returned to the house, showered, and changed into a white sleeveless shirt and blue basketball shorts. With a glass of iced tea in hand, he made his way to the porch.

Sitting on the bamboo bench, Seth watched the sun sink below the horizon, the sky fading to a deep orange before surrendering to the night. This was his favorite time of the day—a moment when he could let his thoughts drift, untethered, and prepare himself for another battle with his inner demons.

As darkness fell, he turned on the porch light, grabbed his guitar, and began to play. The soft strumming of strings broke the silence as he sang John Mayer's "Your Body is a Wonderland," his voice quiet and reflective. Song after song, he played until Tata Juancho called him in for dinner.

It was just after seven when they sat down to eat. The meal was quiet, save for the occasional clinking of plates and cutlery. Finally, Tata Guring broke the silence.

"How's the city, Seth? How's your sister?" he asked, his raspy voice cutting through the stillness.

"She's fine, Tata Guring. The city's treating us well," Seth replied.

Nearly seventy, Tata Guring was tall and lean, his face worn from years of labor, his hands gnarled from decades of fishing. Tata Juancho, in contrast, was short and stout, his body covered in tattoos. Despite their differences, the two men were inseparable, like an odd pair of Mario and Luigi from Nintendo lore.

"And you?" Tata Juancho asked, his mouth full of pork chop. "What brings you back here this time of year?"

Seth shrugged, avoiding their gaze. "I just missed the peace and quiet."

Both men exchanged a look before Tata Guring asked, "Are you okay, son?"

"We know you, Seth," Tata Juancho added. "You wouldn't come here just because you missed us."

Seth sighed, knowing there was no point in hiding it. He explained everything about Yssa—how Glenn had shown up, how she hadn't been honest with him, and how he felt betrayed. The two old men listened intently, occasionally interjecting with their own thoughts and arguments.

When Seth finished, they both shook their heads.

"It must've been a shock," Tata Juancho said, referring to Glenn's appearance.

Seth nodded. "She never told me she had a boyfriend. She made me feel like I was nothing more than a toy."

"No," Tata Guring said, his voice firm. "She was afraid. Afraid you'd leave if you knew the truth. She may have lied, but you made yourself fall for her."

"I'm not in love with her," Seth retorted, more defensively than he intended.

"Then why are you here, complaining about it?" Tata Juancho shot back.

Seth didn't answer. Instead, he excused himself from the table and retreated to the porch. He spent the rest of the evening strumming his guitar absentmindedly, his thoughts drifting back to Yssa.

By midnight, he finally went to his room. He closed the curtains, switched off the lamp, and lay in the darkness, thinking about what Tata Guring had said. He was right, of course. Seth just hadn't been honest with himself. Something from the past, something about Kristina, still held him back.

Moonlight seeped through the window, casting soft shadows across the room. But unlike the night before, Seth couldn't bring himself to smile.

* * *

Seth woke early the next morning, long before the sun had risen. He dressed quickly, slipping into the same shorts from the night before and a fresh white undershirt. After brushing his teeth, he made his way to the kitchen, where he downed a quick glass of warm chocolate and grabbed a cheese sandwich. Tata Juancho greeted him as he passed by, offering a nod of acknowledgment before Seth stepped outside with his guitar slung over his shoulder.

The cool morning air greeted him, crisp against his skin. The sky was a blank canvas, void of stars, and he could sense the rain coming. It hung in the air, thick and expectant. Seth stretched, raising his arms above his head before rolling his shoulders, feeling the tension ease from his body. He inhaled deeply, taking in the briny scent of the ocean, and let his mind wander.

Questions swirled through his thoughts, restless and unanswerable. He wondered about Glenn—what kind of man he was, what his relationship with Yssa had really been like. Did he treat her well? Did she love him? But more than anything, Seth found himself thinking about Yssa. Was she okay? What was she doing now? He realized, with a sudden ache in his chest, just how much he missed her.

As the first hints of dawn began to light the horizon, Seth made his way back to the house. The sky was still overcast, and the scent of rain was stronger now. He showered, dressed in denim shorts and a red shirt, and combed his hair until he felt fresh and presentable. In the living room, he picked up a notebook from the shelf and then retreated to his bedroom.

Just as he turned on his computer, the rain began to fall, the soft patter against the windows a soothing backdrop to the thoughts that wouldn't leave him alone.

* * *

A little before noon, Seth and Tata Guring headed to the kitchen to prepare lunch. Breakfast was so early, and hunger gnawed at them all. With whatever was left in the fridge, they fried some chicken and cooked three packs of instant noodles. The three of them—Seth, Tata Guring, and Tata Juancho—ate quietly on the porch, the sound of the rain providing a soothing backdrop.

Afterward, Seth returned to his room, diving back into whatever he had been typing on his computer. Inside the kitchen, the two old men busied themselves with the dishes, their conversation a low hum beneath the rain's steady rhythm. Then, amidst the clatter, there was a knock at the door.

Tata Guring paused, wondering who it could be. Most visitors used the doorbell, but this was different. He dried his hands and left Tata Juancho to finish up, walking to the front of the house.

Seth, deep in thought and typing away, hadn't heard the knock. The rain outside was falling harder now, drumming against the windows.

Another knock, this one a little louder.

"Coming," Tata Guring called out as he hurried toward the door.

As he opened it, a flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a thunderous crash. For a moment, Tata Guring was taken aback by the sight in front of him. Standing in the doorway, soaked from the rain but undeniably beautiful, was a young woman he had never seen before. Yet, somehow, he knew exactly who she was. He stood there, speechless.

"Come on in," Tata Guring finally said softly, stepping aside.

She stepped in, closing the door behind her. The noise of the downpour dulled instantly. She glanced nervously at the old man, unsure of what to say. Before the silence could grow too thick, Tata Juancho appeared from the kitchen, just as speechless as his friend.

"You must be Yssa," Tata Guring said at last. "We've heard a lot about you."

Yssa managed a weak smile, her arms crossing defensively. "I am. And you must be Tata Guring and Tata Juancho. I'm sorry to show up unannounced."

"It's okay," Tata Juancho said gently, trying to put her at ease.

"Is Seth here?" she asked, her voice wavering.

Tata Juancho nodded toward the back of the house. "He's in his room. Been working on something."

"How is he?" she asked, her face shadowed with worry.

Tata Guring gave a knowing, tired smile. "You'll have to ask him yourself."

Yssa hesitated, doubt creeping in. Had coming here been a mistake? But before she could rethink her decision, Seth emerged from his room, drawn by the soft voices and the feeling that something was off.

"Who is it?" he asked, but then he froze in his tracks.

His eyes landed on Yssa, and suddenly, the room felt too small, the air too thick. For what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke. Yssa had imagined this moment a hundred times, thought about the words she'd say, but now that she was here, everything felt inadequate.

"Hello, Seth," she finally whispered, her voice trembling.

Seth didn't reply. The two old men exchanged a glance and began to move toward the door, sensing that this conversation was one best had in private.

"We'll leave you two alone," Tata Guring said kindly, picking up an umbrella from behind the door.

"It was nice meeting you," Tata Juancho added softly as they stepped outside, leaving Seth and Yssa in the quiet tension of the room.

The door clicked shut behind them, and the storm outside seemed to echo the storm brewing between them. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but inside, everything felt still, suspended.

"Why are you here?" Seth asked, his voice steady, though his heart was anything but.

Tears welled in Yssa's eyes as she took a tentative step toward him. "I came to see you. I—I needed to see you."

"Why?" he asked again, his voice tight with emotion.

"Because I love you," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Seth didn't move. He didn't speak. He just stood there, staring at her as if searching for something, anything, to hold on to. Yssa took another step, her eyes never leaving his. She wrapped her arms around him, and for a moment, he didn't respond. But slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his arms, holding her in a way that left room for her to pull away if she wanted.

But Yssa didn't pull away. She only held on tighter, her head resting against his chest as her tears fell harder. And as he stood there, feeling her trembling against him, something shifted inside Seth. In that quiet, rain-soaked moment, he knew—Yssa was telling the truth.