Episode 31

I didn't think it would hurt this much to unlock the door.

I stood there with my mother beside me, Sebastian fidgeting at my side, and the key in my shaking hand.

It was the same condo.

The same hallway, the same dull off-white paint that had probably been repainted twice since we left.

But it felt haunted.

I forced the key in and twisted.

The door swung open with a soft creak.

Sebastian, bless his heart, pushed past me immediately with a shout of delight.

"Is this ours? It's so big!"

I let out a shaky laugh, blinking fast.

"It's… yes. It's ours."

My mother touched my arm, grounding me.

"You okay?" she murmured.

I nodded too quickly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

She didn't push.

She just started directing the men we'd hired to carry up the boxes, telling them where to set things.

Sebastian explored every corner of the unit, shouting his commentary back to me.

"There's a balcony!"

"Mommy! Look at this big room! It can be mine!"

I wiped at my eyes with my sleeve before he turned back around.

It was too familiar.

The living room where we'd had late dinners, the couch we'd fallen asleep on together in front of the TV, the bedroom that had felt like a sanctuary and then a prison.

I could still picture Raphael here.

Leaning against the counter with his coffee. Pulling me onto his lap.

Arguing with me in a low voice that trembled with frustration.

Kissing me so fiercely i thought i'd combust.

I felt sick.

My father arrived with another load of groceries and supplies, snapping me out of it.

He surveyed the room with an approving nod.

"This is good," he said simply. "You'll both be okay here."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Thanks, Dad."

He squeezed my shoulder gently, the most affection he'd allowed himself in years.

-

We worked for hours.

Setting up the kitchen.

Unpacking Sebastian's clothes.

Making his bed with the car-patterned sheets he insisted on bringing all the way from China.

By the time it was done, it actually looked like a home again.

Sebastian passed out on the couch, sweaty and smiling in his sleep.

My mother stroked his hair and smiled at me.

"He's happy."

I nodded.

"He deserves to be."

She didn't say anything about Raphael.

She didn't have to.

Around dusk, I straightened up, brushing off my jeans.

"I need to get a few things from the market," I said.

My mother opened her mouth to argue ever the worrier, but then she sighed.

"Okay. Go. I'll stay here with him."

"Thanks, Ma."

I leaned down and kissed Sebastian's forehead.

"I'll be right back, baby."

He didn't stir.

-

I slipped out into the Manila evening, hugging my arms around myself.

The streets were loud, busy, alive.

Vendors shouting.

Tricycles rumbling past.

Children running barefoot in the fading light.

I found the small public market three blocks away.

I was halfway through haggling over tomatoes when it hit me.

I was really home.

This was it.

This was where i was going to raise him.

Without Raphael.

My chest felt too tight.

I swallowed it down.

Paid for the tomatoes.

Moved on to onions, garlic, leafy greens.

I focused on the simple, grounding task of buying food for my son.

For us.

I was counting out coins when i felt it.

That weird prickle at the back of my neck.

Like someone was watching.

I froze.

Turned slowly.

And there he was.

Raphael.

He was standing a few meters away, by a fruit stall.

Dressed simply in dark pants and a pale button-down.

Sleeves rolled up.

Hair a little longer than i remembered, swept back casually.

He looked older.

A little leaner.

More tired.

Our eyes met.

My stomach dropped.

He saw me.

Really saw me.

His whole body went tense.

For a second, neither of us moved.

It was like time stuttered to a halt around us.

Vendors kept yelling.

Motorcycles roared past.

Kids laughed.

But all i heard was my own pulse in my ears.

Finally, Raphael shifted.

He said something to the vendor at his stall, paid too quickly and started walking toward me.

My mouth went dry.

I could have run.

I almost did.

But my feet wouldn't move.

So i stood there like an idiot, clutching my little net bag of vegetables.

When he stopped in front of me, there was about a foot of space between us.

It felt like miles.

He looked at me.

Not the way he used to.

Not soft.

Not warm.

Just… guarded.

Cool.

That stung more than I'd expected.

"Claudia," he said finally.

My throat clicked.

"Raphael."

Silence.

He looked me over once, quickly.

Taking in the jeans, the old T-shirt, the tired eyes.

If he noticed anything else, he didn't show it.

"You're back," he said, voice even.

I nodded once.

"Yeah."

He nodded too.

Another beat of silence.

"How long?"

I swallowed.

"A few days."

He glanced away, jaw working.

I waited.

"Settling back in?" he asked eventually.

It sounded almost polite.

Businesslike.

My chest hurt.

"Trying to," I said carefully.

Another silence.

He watched people walk past us, his eyes darting away from mine.

"Parents helping you?"

"Yeah."

He nodded.

Another breath.

"Good."

I licked my lips.

"Raphael—"

He didn't look at me.

His jaw was tight.

"You don't have to explain," he said flatly.

My mouth snapped shut.

He finally turned his gaze back to me.

There was something cold in it.

Not anger.

Not hatred.

Just… distance.

"I'm glad you're safe," he said stiffly.

I blinked fast.

"Thank you."

We both stood there, breathing hard.

I could feel the words i didn't want to say pressing at the back of my teeth.

Your son.

He has your eyes.

He's five.

He speaks three languages.

He asks about you when he thinks i'm asleep.

But i didn't say any of it.

Raphael took a small step back.

"Take care of yourself, Claudia."

His voice cracked just slightly on my name.

But he didn't wait for me to respond.

He turned on his heel and walked away.

I watched him go.

I watched his broad shoulders thread through the crowd, head held stiff, back impossibly straight.

I felt like someone had scooped out my insides and left me hollow.