All Chapters of Making Past Perfect: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

During the journey, Alice found herself increasingly disturbed by the vision she had seen earlier—one that involved Leonora and Corazon. The ominous details haunted her thoughts, making it hard to focus. She glanced at Isabela, who was sitting in the front seat of the car, disguised as a pregnant woman, her face a mask of concentration. The tension in the vehicle was palpable, especially with the looming threat of being caught by the Japanese soldiers at the checkpoints. Lito was driving cautiously, aware of the delicate nature of their mission.Alice leaned forward slightly and spoke in a low voice, careful not to alert Lito, who might become confused by what she was about to say.“Isabela, please do me a favor,” Alice whispered.Isabela turned her head slightly to meet Alice’s gaze, her brow furrowed with concern. “Of course, what is it?” she asked quietly.“I need your help looking after Leonora,” Alice said, her voice barely audible. She refrained from calling her “Nana,” as she us

Pedro awoke just before dawn, feeling the chill in the air. Alice lay snuggled in his arms, her warmth a stark contrast to the cold that seeped through the cracks of the old wooden walls. He wasn’t ready to move just yet, still tired from the days of hiding and constant travel. But they couldn't afford to linger. They needed to reach the captain’s house in the mountains if they were to have any chance of finding his father and securing help.For a moment, he simply watched Alice as she slept, her face peaceful and relaxed in slumber. Despite the exhaustion etched into her features, her beauty still stunned him. He had never seen anyone like her—she was not just beautiful in the ordinary sense, but something more, almost otherworldly. His fingers gently traced the outline of her face, brushing against her soft skin. He wondered, not for the first time, if he could somehow stay by her side forever, even though the world around them seemed determined to tear them apart.Leaning down, Ped

Upon entering the guerrilla camp, Alice and Pedro felt the weight of their exhaustion. The camp bustled with activity, but there was an air of somber determination. In the Captain’s tent, they found Juan, the newly appointed captain, standing over a hand-drawn map spread across the table in front of him. His eyes traced the lines of the map, but his mind seemed elsewhere.“Our condolences. I heard what happened to the Captain,” Alice said softly, her voice tinged with sorrow.Juan nodded grimly, not allowing himself to dwell on the loss of his brother. As the new captain, he needed to be strong, to lead. Mourning could wait until after they won this fight. “Thank you,” he muttered, his voice low but resolute.“What happened to the others?” Juan’s tone shifted, more focused now, as he looked between Alice and Pedro. His expression was solemn, the lines of responsibility weighing heavily on his face. They had been planning to rescue their townspeople from the Japanese, but when they arri

Suddenly, Roberto called out from the darkness. "Captain Terry!" His voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the night as figures began to emerge from the surrounding trees.Captain Terry, a hardened guerrilla leader known for his ruthlessness, stepped forward, flanked by his men. They had come running at the sound of the explosions, ready to assist. Terry’s sharp eyes immediately took in the situation—the defeated Japanese soldiers, the bodies strewn about, and the few captives still alive. His jaw clenched with grim satisfaction.“We heard the explosions and came as fast as we could,” Terry said, his voice low but firm as he approached Roberto. The firelight flickered across his face, casting deep shadows. He glanced toward Captain Juan, nodding in acknowledgment before his eyes settled on the Japanese captives.Captain Juan returned the nod. “We managed to capture their leader, Ichiro Minamoto, but he’s been tight-lipped so far.”Terry’s expression darkened as he strode t

As Rodolfo lay on the cot, the dim lantern light flickering across his gaunt face, Pedro knelt beside him, pressing a damp cloth to his friend’s forehead. The bruises and cuts that marred Rodolfo’s body were evidence of the torture he had endured. His sunken cheeks and frail frame told a story of starvation and suffering that words alone couldn’t capture.Juan, standing nearby with his arms crossed, eyed the man critically. He had seen enough men broken by war to know Rodolfo’s survival was nothing short of a miracle.“Rodolfo,” Juan spoke, his voice steady but firm, “how did you get out of Sakura Heiei?”Rodolfo opened his eyes slowly as if the effort was too much. His voice was weak, strained, barely a whisper. “It was... hell in there. Every day felt like a lifetime.”Pedro leaned closer, his voice soft, full of concern. “You don’t have to talk about it now. Rest first, Rodolfo.”“No,” Rodolfo rasped, shaking his head slightly. “You need to know... they’re planning something. Somet