32 GB - Mikhaiah Fanfiction

1 - 1959

      "Sometimes, the right person comes at the wrong time. And no matter how much your heart aches for them, fate reminds you that love isn't always enough to rewrite destiny."

Cebu, Philippines - March 27, 1959

It was the summer of 1959, I recall vividly. I was just a young woman walking home from my class. I taught science in the local elementary, a job I've kept until I retired.

I remember how the children waved at me as I passed by them while walking home from school. It was the last day of the school year and you really could see the happiness in their faces.

"Ba-bay Titser Aida!" one of my students yelled.

I waved and smiled back at him before continuing my walk.

I couldn't help but envy their blissful ignorance, those wide-eyed smiles plastered on their faces, completely unaware of the real world's harsh truths. Here I was, just an unmarried working woman in my twenties, slogging through the same old routine day in and day out. Folks kept telling me I should've settled down a few years back, but I wasn't ready to chain myself to a husband when there were still a few good years left for me to savor. Sure, there were times I thought about marriage, imagining how much easier life might be with a man to provide for me. After all, their paychecks were so much heftier than mine. I'd daydreamed about finding a dapper military man or a high-flying businessman—just any gent who could take care of me and shower me with love as his devoted wife. But the suitors who came calling weren't quite the catch I'd hoped for. They were jobless dreamers seeking for the love of a mother not a wife.

I made a quick stop at the library to drop off some textbooks I'd borrowed for the kids in my class. I left them in a basket the librarian had on her desk and headed out. As I was leaving, something unusual caught my eye—a stack of discarded books lying haphazardly by the side of the road. Curious, I picked one up and skimmed the blurb on the back. It was feminist literature.

There were several copies scattered about, some in better shape than others. I selected one of the less tattered volumes and slipped it into my bag. I couldn't help but wonder how such a book ended up discarded like that. It seemed so absurd to me, and to this day, I still haven't quite figured out why it was tossed aside. Shaking my head, I continued on my way home.

I lived in a quaint yellow house just a few blocks from school. It used to belong to my parents, but after they passed on, it came into my care since all my siblings were already settled down. My sister, who's now happily married to a well-to-do gentleman, sends me a generous sum of money each month. It's enough to cover my bills and help with my essentials, especially since my job doesn't quite stretch that far. I'm deeply grateful to her and her husband—words can hardly express how much their kindness means to me. They're both such fine people, and I owe them more than I could ever repay.

Ring ring, the telephone rings and I rush to pick it up.

"Aida, kumusta? Nasayo pa ba yung mga librong hiniram mo sakin? Gagamitin ko sana bukas." The call came from Maria Louise Ricalde, one of my closest friends, a lady from Manila who had moved to Cebu in search for a simple life in the province.

"Pupunta nalang ako sa inyo para ihatid ko itong mga libro , salamat ah at pinahiram mo ako."

"Walang anuman Aida, mag-ingat ka."

I took the books from my shelf and took my bag with me. The books were too big to fit my bag so I wrapped my arms around it and carried it that way. The sun was setting and I had to walk as quick as I could.

I walked for what felt like hours, my footsteps echoing on the quiet, deserted street. The cityscape around me was eerily still, as if it were caught in a perpetual twilight. I pushed forward, driven by a restless urge, my feet moving almost on their own. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows as I continued on, unaware of the slow, inexorable shift taking place. Streetlights flickered to life, their warm glow contrasting with the encroaching twilight. I turned to look behind me, hoping to retrace my steps, but the street I had traversed seemed to have vanished. The familiar landmarks and settings of the past were nowhere to be seen, but I kept walking, and walking until I spotted my house its bright yellow hue shining from the moonlight.

An unexpected gust of wind seemed to envelop me in an icy embrace, wrapping around my body and seeping through my clothes. The sudden chill made my head spin, and I felt an unsettling lightness in my chest. My vision wavered as the wind intensified, and a strange dizziness overwhelmed me.

Without a warning, the world tilted violently, and I slumped forward, my consciousness slipping away. The gust of wind seemed to pull me into darkness, and then everything went silent.

When I came to, I was lying sprawled on the porch. The porch, once a familiar sanctuary, now felt strangely alien. I sat up, feeling groggy and disoriented. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the lingering dizziness. The gust had come and gone in an instant, but its impact left me feeling unsettled.

This all felt like a fever dream but I shrugged it off and stood up to dust off my poodle skirt. I turned my door knob forgetting I had locked it the night before, so I rummaged my bag for the keys. It wasn't there.

I looked around hoping I had just left my keys on the porch somewhere but to my surprise all I saw was an unfamiliar gray cat sitting on the porch railing.

Desperate to get inside, I slammed my shoulder against the door, but it wouldn't budge. Confusion and frustration clouded my mind. Somehow, I found myself locked out of my own home after that grueling night.

Defeated, I leaned my forehead against the door, trying to make sense of it all. Then, without warning, the door swung open, nearly sending me sprawling. I caught myself just in time, my feet barely staying beneath me.

"Excuse me?" a gentle voice called out.

I looked up, startled. Standing in the doorway was a young woman, pretty but ill-dressed, wearing an oversized shirt that looked like it belonged to a high school boy. In one hand, she clutched a sleek, black device that didn't resemble anything I had ever seen before.