03

I sit across from Atty. Garcia on her desk. She’s still into a phone call when I arrive, so I quietly help myself into a chair across from her.

She sits elegantly on her swivel chair, an exquisite wall in oakwood design spreads as her backdrop. A shelf filled with trophies and a corner wall adorned with diplomas speaks of her myriad achievements as a lawyer. And she’s the lawyer who handles my annulment proceedings with Yen.

“Welcome back, Zed! How’s your travel around the world?” She smiles, adjusting her large-framed glasses. Then, she stands up, opening her arms wide to me.

I hug her back. Of all the people I am interacting with, she’s the only one who knows the depth of my emotional struggles against my annulment. She and Ara are the only exemption to my no-woman rule since she’s already in her mid-forties. And she has become a friend to me.

“It’s good,” I chuckle. “I’ve gone to different places, met many people – “

“But never a special someone?”

I laugh. “I’m surprised you get it.”

“Because you won’t be doing this if you have found a new one.”

Atty. Garcia gestures for me to sit down. “Are you sure to do this?”

“Yes.”

By saying yes, I am authorizing her to transfer the ownership of the first three coffee shops I have opened to Yen, aside from the 50% share of the house and car I’ve just sold lately. This is one of the reasons why I return. Although these are not literally conjugal properties since I had acquired them before our wedding, I have still decided to give them to her. Just because I bought those properties for us.

She was my inspiration. And she’s part of it ever since I started dreaming of having them; her presence in my life completed it.

“You love her that much,” she says, sliding me the documents I need to sign.

Her words choke me, but I manage to smile. Then, suddenly, the same old feelings of pain and loneliness come crushing me deep inside again.

“Would you want to be here when she signs?” Atty. Garcia says, staring at me. I know she sees me through.

“No.”

“Zed, the only way to forget is to love another.”

“I’m fine, Atty.”

I stand up to end the discussion, then extend my right hand for a handshake. “Thank you so much, Atty. Please let me know once she signs it.”

“Sure,” she smiles, accepting my hand.

I wave at her, then hurry to my car. Unfortunately, I still have to return the car to my old home since the buyer will come over this afternoon. But before I turn on the ignition key, a message notification beeps.

I swipe my phone’s password then click the message. “An amount of P5, 000. 00 is deducted from your account xxx….”

I smile, remembering the awkward incident last night. Then, fastening my belt, I pull out from the parking lot and head toward Yen and mine’s house.

I start feeling nostalgic as I turn towards the familiar block of the subdivision. And as soon as the guard ushers me in, my eyes lay on the façade of the house that holds my bittersweet memories of Yen.

I step out of the car, checking the garden first. The flowers beckon me from their well-crafted landscape islands, and all of them remind me of Yen. The wooden swing is still there, drawing some memories of her from the back of my mind. I’m glad the housekeeper has maintained the way I want it to be.

Why is it so hard to forget? If loving someone with all of your heart puts you through this searing pain, I’d rather stay alone forever.

Stepping out of the garden, I proceed to the main door. I open it, and the same furniture I left behind greet my eyes. A surge of painful memories then floods in my mind that I step back. I close it again, park the car well, and leave.

I book a car ride and proceed to the car rental company. I need a car before my new one is released. I have already processed it ahead, but I think it will still take a few days before I can have it.

I haven’t paid much attention to my time in the car rental company and the car showroom. I glance at my watch, and it’s already thirty minutes before three. Arnold must be already at the coffee shop. I can’t waste his time since he’s handling all the branches of XYZ Coffee Shops in Cebu.

I drive faster than I usually do, and when I open the door to the coffee shop, the smile of the woman I’m never ready to see greets my eyes.

It’s Yen.