Theresia
The day was kind of hard, and I was just hoping everything would go well. After getting ready, I left already. The mayor's quo warranto case was being heard in the Manila Regional Trial Court. I arrived at the place first, and there were some media outside the RTC. The symphony of whispers and camera flashes. She's a high-profile personality, so it's expected.
I sat in and prepared for questioning later. When the mayor finally arrived, she looked tense and uneasy. My heart ached for her. I reached out, my hand gently resting on her shoulder.
"Mayor, just stay calm, composed, and concise. Don't be afraid to say 'I don't know'; it's better to be honest than to make something up," I reminded her before the trial started.
During the cross-examination, there were times when she couldn't directly answer the questions. Her eyes, pools of uncertainty, darted towards me several times, seeking reassurance. The mayor, though visibly shaken, held her ground. She held her own, her voice steady, her composure unwavering. I felt a surge of pride for her, a testament to her strength and resilience.
After both parties presented evidence and arguments to challenge each other's testimony and establish the strength of their respective cases, we prepared to leave the RTC. I had already informed the mayor that there were a lot of media waiting outside. If she was cornered, I reminded her to always stick to her prior statements.
As we walked outside the RTC, a lot of reporters surrounded us. I felt the mayor's hand slip into mine, her touch a silent plea for comfort. Her eyes, brimming with tears, held a mixture of fear and gratitude. She answered a few questions, her voice barely a whisper, before we were swept away by the relentless tide of reporters.
We parted ways, I couldn't say a proper goodbye to her as a lot of media was almost dragging us.
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Later, at my condo, the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with me. The phone rang, the familiar tone jolting me from my weary slumber. It was my father. His voice, usually warm and comforting, was laced with an icy edge. "Theresia, come home. We need to talk." The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations.
My heart pounded as I drove towards my parents' house. The familiar street, once a haven of warmth and comfort, now felt like a path leading to a confrontation. As I stepped inside, the air crackled with tension. My father's face was contorted with anger, his eyes burning with disapproval. My sister Pia stood beside him, her expression a mixture of disappointment and disgust.
"What were you thinking, Theresia?" my father shouted, his voice shaking with fury. "That mayor is involved in illegal and criminal acts! You're all over the news, representing someone with ties to such activities! You've ruined our reputation!"
My throat tightened, my breath catching in my chest. "It's part of my job, Dad," I said, my voice trembling. "She's still innocent until proven guilty."
"You're stubborn, self-centered, and you don't know how to listen!" my father thundered. "I'm warning you, stay away from that mayor, or you'll regret it!"
"You're threatening me again?" I retorted, my voice rising with defiance. "I'm committed to this case, whether you like it or not!"
"You're a disgrace to this family!" my father spat. "You're weak, you're not using your head!"
Tears streamed down my face, hot and stinging. The words, sharp and cruel, pierced my heart like shards of glass. My mother, her eyes filled with concern, tried to intervene, but her voice was lost in the storm of anger.
"It's enough!" she cried, her voice strained. "Both of you, stop!"
"It's okay, Ma," I said, my voice choked with emotion. "He's always like this. You only care about your reputation. You're so good to other people, but when it comes to me, you're different."
"Because you haven't done anything right!" my father snarled . "Because you don't listen! Don't you ever come crying to me asking for help when you get in trouble because of that mayor!"
My mother pulled me into a tight embrace, her gentle touch "Just talk to your father when he's calm," she whispered. "You won't understand each other this way."
I pulled away, my heart heavy with pain. I needed to get out of there, away from the storm of anger and disappointment. I walked out, my footsteps echoing in the silence of the house. As I drove away, tears streamed down my face. The pain of being rejected by my own family was a different kind of pain.
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Whenever I have a problem, drinking is really my way of escaping. I am in my condo alone, drinking some beer. When a call interrupts me. I was about not to answer it, but I saw that it's the mayor.
Maybe it's something urgent. I composed myself and reached for the phone.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to compose my thoughts and emotions. "Hello?" I answered, my voice a little shaky.
Hi attorney, are you busy?" her voice, a melodic blend of concern and gratitude, washed over me. "I just wanted to say thank you for guiding me earlier. I couldn't imagine going through that without you by my side."
Her words, like a gentle breeze, swept away the fog of self-doubt that had been clinging to me. For the first time that night, a flicker of warmth ignited within me. I was doing something meaningful, something that mattered.
"You're welcome, mayor," I replied, a genuine smile spreading across my face. "Thank you for calling, by the way."
"Can I invite you for dinner?" she asked, her voice a playful lilt. "I'll come to your office tomorrow, but I didn't say I'm available tomorrow."
"I don't take no for an answer," she chuckled, her voice a mischievous whisper. "See you tomorrow."
Before I could even utter a response, the line went dead. I stared at the phone, a mixture of amusement and exasperation bubbling within me. This woman, she was unbelievable, utterly silly, yet undeniably captivating.
As I pondered her words. I drifted off to sleep on the sofa, the image of her smile lingering in my mind.
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Thank you po sa vote.
Please bear with me, it's just my first time writing a story.
comment one dot if totoo kayo HAHAHAHAHA
