It was dark, and slowly, Olivia's eyes started to flutter open. She found herself lying in a hospital bed, with no one else around. Her body still ached, and she lacked the strength to move or speak. The silence was deafening until, suddenly, the door opened. A figure stepped inside—a man dressed neatly, though his shirt was slightly dirty, as if he'd been outside. He was carrying a bag of packed food in his hand. He noticed Olivia's gaze fixed on him and immediately approached.
"Hey," he said gently. "You're awake now." His voice was calm, reassuring. He looked down at her and, with a soft smile, added, "You had an accident."
Olivia stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. She barely had the strength to speak, but managed to weakly ask, "Who... who are you?"
The man introduced himself, "I'm Rich. I found you here—at the hospital. I saw your ID while searching for your identity as part of the hospital protocol." He showed her the ID he had found, confirming her name. "You're Olivia, right?"
Olivia's brow furrowed in confusion. "What happened?" Her voice was hoarse, barely audible.
Rich stepped closer, lowering his voice as he explained, "You were in an accident. The paramedics brought you here. You're safe now."
Olivia struggled to sit up, using every ounce of strength she had left. Rich noticed and gently helped her, positioning her comfortably with a firm but careful touch. "Here, eat this first," he said, handing her the packed food. "The doctor will come in soon to explain everything."
Olivia, still silent, managed a faint nod. Though she didn't speak, it was clear she was thankful. Her gratitude was written all over her face. Rich noticed and softened even more. "I'm sorry I had to take a photo," he apologized, "but I didn't mean to cause you any harm."
Olivia turned her gaze to him, slightly surprised. "It's... okay," she muttered quietly, accepting his apology.
After a moment of silence, Rich asked if she wanted to call any of her family. Olivia's expression darkened slightly, and she shook her head. "No," she replied firmly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rich didn't press her. He respected her privacy, sensing the weight of her reluctance.
Soon after, the doctor entered the room, flipping through Olivia's chart. "Ms. Olivia, good to see you awake. You're stable, no serious injuries, just some minor bruises and a few medications to take. We'll keep you under observation for a bit, but you'll be good for discharge."
Relieved, Olivia nodded, but her mind was still preoccupied. After a few more instructions, she and Rich exited the hospital together. As they stepped outside, the hustle and bustle of the city filled the air—the energy of Baguio was alive and vibrant, even on this Sunday.
Olivia hailed a taxi and got inside alone. Rich watched as she drove off in the distance, and he quietly walked in a different direction, disappearing into the crowd.
It was Sunday, and while Wes was still fast asleep, Diego wasn't in his bed. Curious, Wes got up, rubbing his eyes as he stretched. He wandered out of the room, but the space was empty—no sign of anyone.
He opened the door leading outside and was greeted by the view of Baguio's lush greenery, the crisp air, and the calmness of early morning. From afar, he spotted Lolo Tomas, the elderly caretaker of the apartment building, working in a small patch of farmland. Beside him, Diego was hard at work—his clothes dirtied as he piled vegetables into a cart, his head covered with a scarf to shield himself from the sun. Wes was amazed by Diego's strength and determination.
"Hey! Diego!" Wes called out, approaching them.
Diego turned to see him and gestured for him to come over. The two men exchanged greetings, and Wes marveled at the simplicity of their life—how close Diego and Lolo Tomas were, how they worked together in sync, like a well-oiled team.
"You're awake early," Diego remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Wes smiled, taking in the serene atmosphere. "I wanted to see this farm life for myself. It's peaceful here. Simple."
Diego chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. "It's what we do—live close to the land. Harvesting vegetables for our meals, planting what we need." He explained the different crops they were working on—lettuce, carrots, beans—and how they maintained this small plot of land.
As they worked, Wes suddenly remembered the conversation he had overheard before—about Diego planning to move to the city. It nagged at the back of his mind.
"So, Diego," Wes began, "You still thinking about moving to the city? What happened with that?"
Diego paused for a moment, his expression softening. "I was. But now... I'm not sure anymore. This place—it's simple, but it's home. I'm starting to see the beauty in it."
Wes watched as Diego continued his work, clearly invested in the task at hand. He decided not to push the matter any further.
"I'll head to the city today," Wes finally said. "Just to check things out. See if I can recover anything from the old place. I'll be back by night."
Diego nodded. "Alright, be safe out there."
Later that afternoon, Wes found himself in the city, enjoying a quiet moment at a newly opened coffee shop. He liked to try new places, especially ones that offered something unique. He sat down on a cozy couch, sipping his drink and taking in the surroundings. The shop was calm, with a minimalist design—paintings adorned the walls, each telling a different story. Wes, who appreciated art, couldn't help but admire the thoughtful display.
As his gaze wandered, his eyes caught a striking painting—a depiction of Baguio at night. The city lights sparkled like stars, casting a warm glow over the buildings. It captured something familiar, something deeply emotional. He felt a connection to it, and it stirred something inside him.
The shop was quiet, almost empty, with only a few patrons here and there. Wes roamed around, taking it all in when he suddenly spotted a familiar face in the corner of his eye.
"Holy shit... Brad?" Wes muttered under his breath, his eyes widening in shock.