Take a Chance with Me

No, No, No Tago

It felt like my world crashed for a second when Jhoanna called me, her voice choked with sobs, telling me she had confessed everything to her parents. My heart sank, and for a brief moment, I thought it was all over. I imagined the worst—her family tearing us apart, our love buried under the weight of their disapproval.

But as her words continued, a glimmer of hope broke through the darkness. "Pauwi na ako, Mahal." She wasn't calling to end things; she was calling to stand by me, to affirm her love and our commitment. The gravity of her actions hit me then—Jhoanna, the girl who always put her family's expectations first, had chosen to fight for us.

Despite being an only child, she always thought of her cousins whenever we traveled, bringing them pasalubongs. She was thoughtful to the point of wanting to give gifts to nearly everyone in her barangay. For her to turn her back on all that to fight for us was a huge, life-altering gesture. I would never let this chance of a lifetime slip out of my hands.

Tears streamed down my face, a mix of relief and overwhelming love. I had never imagined this moment, never dared to dream that Jhoanna would openly declare her love for me to her family. For so long, I had been content to be her secret, cherishing stolen moments and whispered confessions. But now, she had taken the boldest step imaginable.

When Jhoanna said, forever and ever, she meant it.

But despite the reassurance in her words, I was consumed with worry as I imagined Jhoanna driving back to Manila in such a broken state, her tears blinding her vision. Every mile she drove, every minute that passed, weighed heavily on my heart. I knew how strong she was, but I also knew the intensity of the emotions she was grappling with.

The weight of the moment drove me to confide in my mother. "Mommy, sinabi na po ni Jhoanna tungkol sa amin," I said, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope. My mother, ever supportive, listened with a furrowed brow and pulled me into a comforting embrace.

"I'm worried about her, Mommy. She's driving back here, crying and broken. I never thought she'd do something so huge."

"Let's wait for her together. I'm here for both of you," she reassured me, her voice a steady anchor in my storm of emotions.

I also called Gwen for emotional support. "Gwen, I need you," I said simply.

"I'm on my way," she replied without hesitation, her loyalty unwavering.

My mind raced with scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. What if she couldn't see clearly and something happened? What if the emotional weight was too much for her to bear while driving? The fear gnawed at me, relentless and unforgiving.

I called her multiple times, my voice trembling with anxiety. "Jho, are you okay? Please, just pull over if you need to. Your safety is more important. We can wait."

Her voice on the other end was strained but resolute. "I'm okay, Staku. I just need to get to you. I need to be with you."

Her determination both comforted and scared me. I trusted her, but the fear didn't dissipate. I could hear the exhaustion in her voice, the remnants of sobs still catching in her throat. The miles between us felt insurmountable, and I hated that I couldn't be there to hold her, to take the wheel and let her rest.

I paced the room, my worry is evident to everyone around me. My mother tried to console me, while Gwen stayed close, offering quiet reassurances. But nothing could ease the gnawing fear until I knew she was safe, until I could see her, touch her, and make sure she was alright.

Every minute felt like an eternity. The clock seemed to slow down, each tick echoing my heartbeats, filled with worry and anticipation.

As the clock struck 1 a.m., the front door creaked open, and Jhoanna finally stepped into the condo. I rushed to her side, my heart pounding with a mix of relief and dread. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her face a picture of exhaustion and pain. The weight of the night's events hung heavily between us.