DISCLAIMER :
I do not own Enrique Gil, Liza Soberano , or any of the characters that you recognize. I'm also not a professional writer. I'm only just making this up as I go along.
I have not been to Spain. Anything I've written about Madrid are solely based on research and creative licence. Any characters from Madrid who you don't recognize are a product of my own imagination. Any Spanish spoken in this chapter is a product of Google Translate. In short, yung karamihan, gawa-gawa ko lang.
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Quen furiously crumpled another piece of paper into a ball in his hand. Damn it! I'm leaving tomorrow, and I still haven't written this letter yet!
He began to write again, but after a few words, he ripped out the paper again.
Why can't I write this?
Maybe because you don't want to leave. That voice inside his head was being loud.
Well, duh! I don't WANT to leave. I HAVE to leave!
Quen leaned back on his chair and sighed loudly, as he stared at the falling rain outside his window. It had been a long and tiring couple of weeks. Dodging Hope's calls was hard. Stopping himself from going over to her house and groveling at her feet begging for her to take him back was even harder.
You don't want to do this, trust me. Why are you fighting what you feel? The voice in his head was screaming at him this time.
No! You need to be strong. You can do this. There was another voice in his head that was just as loud. Quen continued to mumble to himself, talking to the voices inside his head. Needless to say, both voices were annoying. And both voices sounded a lot like his own.
They were in Anilao at the moment. They have been staying there for over a week. He and his mother have been in self-isolation. They have gotten their negative results for their rapid tests earlier that morning. Javy and Andie were there merely for him, for moral support.
Everything was set. All his affairs were in order. His documents were ready. All the requirements were met satisfactorily. All his bags were pack. He's good to go.
Quen's Ninong Fonzie, his Papa's best friend, had all his papers processed as quickly as humanly possible. He had managed to secure a Spanish Golden Visa for Quen. Well...his team of lawyers did. Quen doesn't even know what having a Golden Visa entailed, except that he'd be able to live with his father's family in Madrid. He owed his Ninong a big one.
You owe him? You don't even want to leave. There's that voice again.
Shut up! Quen growled at the voice, hitting himself upside the forehead. This isn't working! There was no way in hell that he could write his farewell letter to Hope if he can't even string two words together without being interrupted by the voices in his head. He stood up and left his room and went downstairs.
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Quen went to the dining room, where the rest of his family were getting ready to have dinner. His last supper in the Philippines. This time tomorrow, he and Mama Bambi would be on board a plane en route to Madrid.
Last supper talaga? Wala ka ng planong bumalik? He wasn't really sure what his plans were beyond moving to Madrid. Maybe he could help with the family business over there. Papa would like that. That was the plan before he made a career out of acting shortly after his father passed away.
