Ling's parents have been separated since she was young, and she copes with the separation by taking good care of her father. When the public school her father works at receives news of a donor who'd supply the school with new books, Ling becomes enthusiastic. But upon meeting Joshua Aragon Villafuerte, the donor, all her senses tell her this handsome, rich boy is more than what he is. Joshua grew up never knowing what a mother's love was. He doesn't mind though since he sails through life easily with a rich father as his support. Though charming and your general nice guy, behind his easy-going smile Joshua isn't faring well--not when you witnessed your own mother put a bullet to her head at the tender age of six. Just when two people try to overcome their childhood heartaches, Ling and Joshua discover what links them together. And whatever truth comes out of their predicament, they can't deny that they need each other to get pass their demons.
View MoreLingA shiny pickup truck parked right by the school gate just when I entered the school premises to deliver Papa's lunch. My heart quivered and flipped in anticipation of seeing Joshua again. Since my trip with him two days ago my head was filled with his kiss. It was an all new feeling to me that I just couldn't bring myself to forget the way his tongue grazed my lip.&
Joshua“She isn't your mother, Josh. Get that into your head.” Jude sat cross-legged in my sala, sipping a flute of red wine. He stared at me long, one brow raised. I opened my mouth but he shut it with the raise of his palm. “Shut up. I don't want to hear it," he said. I sank into a seat and hugged a throw pillow to death. I sighed. “I know she isn't m
LingSkittering, hairy, sharp cockroach legs scampered on my mouth. That was how the kiss felt. There was no warning sign. I didn't expect for Villafuerte to do it. He kissed my lips and made an unpleasant memory I would have to bury into the deepest recesses of my mind. That was a mistake, a misstep I should be wary of next time we were together alone. The drive back to Paki-bato was quiet, heavy with unspoken disgust from me and God-knows-what from Villafuerte.
JoshuaI brought Ling to the nearest café I could find, which was in a mall five kilometers away from her house. We sat on the coffee table nearest to the counter after ordering a large hot cappuccino for me and a Grande hot chocolate for Ling. She turned her eyes to me and smiled. Her steely gaze betrayed the softness of her smile. I felt uncomfortable, as if I were six years old again and mother was alive and armed with one of dad’s big buckled belts. “What do you want to talk about?” she asked, her note clipped and cold; her smile icy and mouth stiff at the corners. I’d seen a lot of fake smiles before f
LingA week of mourning felt like a year to me. Everything, every single day, every familiar face passed me slowly, so very slowly that I couldn't believe I was still breathing, still living. Nothing made sense. Everything. Everyone. Jumbled. Confusing. I was in a whirlpool. I was drowning. I was floating. I was getting sucked in.
JoshuaA wailing cat of a woman hobbled to the gate, her face pale and wet with tears. Following behind her was an army of weeping women, dabbing their eyes with wrinkled handkerchiefs and rags. The men within their group had bowed heads or were silent. The cat woman turned, ran to the back of the group and wailed louder. “What's going on here?” I muttered.
LingI had been ignoring kuya Ronny for almost a week now. Every time I felt his presence or just saw his silhouette my chest would tighten in panic and I would run far away. It wasn't because he broke my heart or the fact he was gay that made me want to stay away from him. I just couldn't be near him right now. He opened up to me and I told him I hated him for what
JoshuaI woke up naked and sprawled on an unknown bed. My head pounded and the stabbing sunlight drilled into the back of my eyes. I groaned. My right arm felt numb. “What happened?” Resting her head on my right arm, Bianca woke with a start. Her round eyes grew wide in shock, then shrank back to their normal size. “Good morning,” she said, smiling. She
LingOur spoons and forks clattered against the cheap, China plates we'd been carefully using since time immemorial. Papa coughed and drank his glass of water, and stared at me for some time before shaking his head and opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something. I put down my spoon and rested my elbow on the table. “Do you have anything you want to say?” I
IsabellaMonster. Mama oftentimes called Papa a monster, a demon who tore our family apart. "I hate him, Ling," she used to tell me before I went to sleep every night. But for an eight-year-old child, I couldn't understand why. Papa loved man...
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