The Same Game

Chapter Two: Exchanging Apologies

Unable to drift into sleep, I crawled out of bed, defeated by the restless night. It felt like the universe itself had conspired against my slumber. I glanced over at the four men lying peacefully, their faces serene and almost endearingly innocent. Bongbong's usually stoic face wore a troubled frown, like his dreams were tangling him up. Was he finding it hard to rest, too?

Feeling utterly bored, I peeled myself off the mattress and decided to wander through the hotel's corridors. I figured, what's the harm? It's not like there's anything better to do. Donning my jacket and my trusty pink flip-flops, I slipped out of our cabin and started pacing the hallways with a sense of freedom. It was 3 a.m., the perfect time for secrecy. No one could catch me. As I made my way to the elevator, an eerie thrill bubbled inside me – call me crazy, but the thought of exploring the hotel like it was mine held a strange allure.

I stepped into the cold, empty elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. The metallic chill seeped into me, stirring memories that felt like a punch to the gut. Nostalgia hit me with the force of a tidal wave. I felt as fragile as shattered glass. Standing there, alone in the dead of night, I wanted to dissolve into tears. The pain, the screaming silence since my husband’s death, tore at me. No one had touched my heart again in all these years, except maybe Bongbong, my political nemesis. But even then, who was I kidding?

Being with him was a pipe dream, a futile fantasy. I respected his choices, his need to perhaps take a risk or not. Deep down, I knew he wouldn’t see me the same way. I was invisible to him, a non-entity in the realm of possibility. The sheer hopelessness of loving him clawed at me. Even the smallest spark of hope felt like an impossible dream. He wouldn’t love me back. There was no chance he’d ever let me into his heart.

BONGBONG’S POV

3:26 a.m., and I'm wide awake, tortured by the sound of three men snoring. This is my personal hell! My eyes snap open, half-expecting to see Leni Robredo, my bitterest political rival, lying in her bed. But she's not there. Where’s that Roden gone to? Maybe she’s in the bathroom, but there’s no light coming from there. Could she be outside? What would she be doing out there in the dead of night? Probably just out for some fresh air. I can’t stand her, especially the way she stares at me…

I wriggle to sit up, and Ping’s weight suddenly slumps onto the bed. His body had been half-crushing my back this whole time! His face contorts in sleep as he mutters,

“Left! Left! Nasa kanan pala, yung tubig baka mabasa… Yung butter nasa cabinet, left, left, left!” What on earth is this man babbling about? Maybe he’s dreaming. I ignore him and head for the door. Before leaving, I glance back at them.

The two others stir and growl in their sleep. Suddenly, Isko shoves Manny out of bed, and he lands on the floor with a thud. Manny groans, fumbling for the blanket, then gives up and falls back to sleep, sprawled there on the cold ground. Isko, wrapping his arms around Ping like a pillow, their snores blending into a loud hum that echoes around the room.

I slip on my slippers, throw on my Jordan hat and my red-and-black jacket, and step out. The hallway's coldness wraps around me with a chilling grip. I wander left and right until I find the elevator. I'm reluctant to get in, worried someone might see me, but that anxiety flickers out as unspoken thoughts swirl in my head. Sleep has eluded me ever since Liza left. She was my light; how can I even cope now? Nearly 29 years together, all gone to waste.

What did I do to deserve this? I was a good father, a great husband, a dutiful son, a caring brother. I did nothing wrong. I gave her everything she ever wanted, we built a family, we raised our sons right, educated them well. I loved her more than anything, and she loved me back.