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Chapter 12
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2020-08-08 22:35:24Joshua
A 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.
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Latest chapter
We Who Love Chapter 17
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We Who Love Chapter 16
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
We Who Love Chapter 15
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.
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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
We Who Love Chapter 13
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We Who Love Chapter 12
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.
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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
