Random Shots

Behind Doors [RiMee]

IMEE

Just like any other day in the Senate, the horizon outside stands out, the sun streaming bright rays that cut through the tension lingering after a long, grueling session. I’m on my way to my office, but not before stopping by Risa’s. After hours of debates and back-and-forth during our hearing, chaired by the Senate Deputy Minority Leader herself, I knew I had to check on her.

Risa Hontiveros, who chairs the Senate Committee on Women, Children, Family Relations, and Gender Equality, had every reason to be upset. The hearing today was particularly intense, centered around the mysterious background of Alice Leal Guo, or Guo Huaping—if that’s even her real name. The way Risa questioned her, trying to get to the truth, would have made anyone crack. And yet, Guo remained composed, almost too composed, as if she thought she could fool us with her innocent looks. But she wasn’t fooling Risa. She wasn’t fooling any of us.

Kung akala niya ay mapapabiloy niya lahat ng tao, ay nagkakamali siya.

The Senate is no place for games. Did she really think she could pull one over on us? Especially with Risa, who’s sharp as a tack and always one step ahead. That woman may look innocent, but there’s something about her that’s deadly, like a snake lying in wait.

This morning, I was directed by the chair to attend the hearing. The POGO issue is a critical and complex case that demands our utmost attention. On top of that, suddenly this mysterious mayor pops up, complicating things even more. Given its gravity, I knew it was essential for me to be present, and Risa, too, approached it with the seriousness it deserved.

As I neared Risa’s office, I encountered her interns—mostly Gen Z, bright-eyed, and eager. One of them, with an enthusiastic smile, greeted me, “Sen. Imee, good morning po.” Her warmth was infectious, and the others quickly followed suit with nods and polite gestures. I returned the smile and asked, “Nandiyan ang boss ninyo?”

They exchanged uneasy glances, clearly uncomfortable with my question. It wasn’t the best timing, but work is work. After a brief pause, one of the interns finally answered, “Mainit po ulo, Sen. Ginalit po ni Ms. Spy.”

"Kayo talaga, nako ha," I said with a small chuckle, brushing off the tension before they left for lunch. I found myself standing outside Risa’s office, hesitating just a moment before twisting the doorknob.

To my surprise, she appeared composed, her glasses perched on her nose, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air. The room was dimly lit, matching the somber atmosphere and the mood she was in, her violet top almost lost under her black office coat.

“If you’re here to stress me out, Imee, get out,” she snapped, her voice cold and sharp.

This woman.

I hadn’t even crossed the threshold, and already, she was pushing me away, triggering that familiar anger in me. But beneath the irritation, I could sense something else—a vulnerability that she was trying to hide behind her usual tough exterior.

"Kape, maldita," I said, trying to keep my tone light, but Risa’s glare was like a dagger aimed straight at my heart. She wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, and her eyes told me she wasn’t about to let anything slide.

"Wow, parang walang nangyari?" She shot back, still standing my ground. She barely glanced up at me, bowing her head slightly, almost mockingly, as a delicate smirk played on her lips. God. Here she goes again, and every time, it’s like I don’t even know her.