Resignation of Bien

Welcome Home

The bus ride to Cavite was long and arduous. As the dawn light seeped through the windows, Bien stared out at the rolling fields and familiar landscapes. He needed to get away from everything.

When Bien finally arrived at his family's modest home, the morning sun was already high in the sky. The house, a small structure surrounded by lush greenery, looked the same as when he had left. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly tilled soil, a stark contrast to the bustling city he had left behind.

"Bien!" his mother's voice rang out as she spotted him. She rushed out of the house, her face beaming with excitement. "My radio celebrity child is home!" She turned to their neighbors, who had gathered upon hearing the commotion. "Bien's home!" she announced, pride evident in her voice.

The neighbors greeted Bien warmly, their faces familiar and comforting. But he wasn't up for it. All he could do was force a smile, nodding in acknowledgment. He couldn't bring himself to tell them that he was no longer a radio personality. And why would he? Why should they know that? But... What about his mother? Bien kept his mouth shut. The disappointment in her eyes would be too much to bear.

As he stepped inside, the house felt frozen in time. His big brother was lounging on the couch, as carefree as ever, while their mother busied herself in the kitchen, her familiar nagging filling the air. His father sat in his usual spot, reading a newspaper, his demeanor as nonchalant as it had always been.

"Hey, little bro," his brother greeted, barely looking up from his phone.

"Welcome home, Bien," his father said with a nod, his voice steady and calm.

"Thanks," Bien replied, his voice lacking enthusiasm. He didn't want to talk to anybody, not even his family. So he went to the trees instead. He tried to lose himself in the green sceneries, the familiar sights and sounds of his rural home. The chirping birds, the rustling leaves, the distant hum of farm equipment—all of it should have been soothing, but it wasn't. Everywhere he looked, he imagined Christian. He tried to get lost in the city, but all he saw reminded him of the love of his life.

"You look like you need some ice cream, child," said an old man, selling ice cream, as he shoved a cone of strawberry ice cream in his hand.

It was Christian's favorite ice cream.

"How much?" Bien asked.

The old man waved his hand. "It's on me! A smile is enough!"

"You're very bad at business, mister."

"My business is making the customer smile. And you just did! I don't think I'm bad at it." The old man smiled sweetly.

Bien licked his ice cream. "What about profit?"

"Life is too short to worry about such material things. Profits come and go. But making someone happy... that's priceless." The old paused to look at Bien intently. "I've been here long, child. You look like you're having trouble choosing. Tell you what. Lick that ice cream of yours and jump from one choice to the other. Whichever choice you land on with the last lick, you'll know what you really want." The ice cream vendor then left with a smile, leaving Bien with his choices.

On his way back home, he licked that ice cream till there was no more. Then he just realized... Why was he even choosing? He already broke up with Christian and that was the end of that.

The day dragged on, with Bien remaining quiet and distant. His mother's constant chatter and his brother's carefree attitude only served to highlight the weight he was carrying. He went through the motions, smiling and nodding, but his heart wasn't in it.

As night fell, the family gathered for dinner. It was warm and familiar, but Bien felt like an outsider looking in. His father finally broke the silence that had hung over Bien all day.

"Bien," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Why are you here?"

Bien looked up, meeting his father's steady gaze. His mother, sensing something was amiss, also turned her attention to him.

"Can't I come home whenever I like?" Bien jested. But both his parents weren't buying it.

"What's wrong, hijo?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Bien took a deep breath, trying to find the words. "I..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Things have been difficult."

His father nodded, waiting for him to continue. Bien could see the worry in his mother's eyes, the silent plea for him to open up.

"I'm no longer your radio celebrity child," he casually blurted.

His mother's eyes widened in shock. "What? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why would I?" Bien scoffed. "Finally, I have something you can be proud of and I messed up." His tears were starting to swell.

"What are you talking about? We've always been proud of you," his mother replied.

"No, Mom," Bien whispered. "None of you were ever proud of me. Kenneth was always the brilliant one, the one with the medals, the top one of the class, while I was always the slow one."

His father reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Bien's shoulder. "You were our talented child, what are you saying?"

Bien removed his father's touch. "No I wasn't!" he snapped, tears rolling down his cheeks. "If I was talented, this wouldn't happen to me. No one will want me out of their companies."

"Want you out of their... you did not leave on your own choice?" his father asked.

Bien told them everything from what happened to Sing FM to Mr. George's offer to Singapore.

"Oh, Bien," his mother said, her tone dismissive. "You should take the opportunity. It's a big break for you. You can help us out a lot with that kind of job. The neighbors will be so jealous. A few sacrifices are necessary, don't you think?"

Bien felt a surge of anger and despair. "Why is it always me?" he burst out. "Why do I always have to be the one to sacrifice? You never say this to Kenneth. Why always me?"

His mother's expression turned cold, offended by his outburst. "Love will not feed you, Bien. You need to be practical. You need to think about your future, about us."

Bien walked out of the dining room. Meanwhile, several kilometers away, certain people were worried about a certain CEO who hadn't been to work without notice.