Fatal Spotlight

Prologue

— New Zealand, 2 years ago —

Wallington.

Wallington City was alive.

Every corner seemed to pulse with energy, from the glittering skyscrapers in the distance to the quiet, winding streets closer to the river. I'd been here for just a day, but it already felt like stepping into another world—one that was loud, beautiful, and a little bit overwhelming.

After hours of wandering around on my own, I found myself at Oakview Gardens. It was tucked away from the busy main streets, a quiet space filled with cherry blossom trees, neatly trimmed hedges, and benches that overlooked a small pond. I leaned on the railing, closing my eyes as a soft breeze rustled the branches above me.

"Sir you dropped—"

The voice startled me. I turned and saw a guy standing a few feet away, holding my wallet in his hands. He was wearing a white polo and loosened tie.

"Oh thank you," I replied, smiling back.

We stood there in a comfortable silence, just taking in the view. I was about to introduce myself when he turned and said, "Pilipino ka ano?" His Tagalog was unmistakable now, warm and familiar.

"Yes!" I laughed, relieved. "Paano mo nalaman?"

He chuckled, then walked over and leaned on the railing next to me. "I thought so. I don't meet a lot of kababayans here," he said, still smiling. "I usually come here after work. Quiet place to think, you know?"

"First day?" He asked.

I nodded.

"How's Wallington?" He asked again.

"I'm loving here," I answered.

For a moment, we just watched the pond, the faint sounds of the city echoing in the distance. We started talking, and I quickly lost track of time. I didn't know his name, and he didn't ask for mine, but somehow, it didn't matter. It felt like we were old friends—or maybe something more.

He told me he'd been in Wallington City for two years, working as a finance manager. I couldn't help but admire the way he spoke about his job and the challenges he faced, his voice calm and steady, with an undertone of resilience. He shared little pieces of his life here—the homesickness, the people he'd met, the spots that felt most like home.

"You didn't want your job?" I asked, he mentioned that his job wasn't his plan.

"I really want to pursue acting," he sighed. "When I graduated, i had to go here to work, you know.. to save my family." He said.

"You can try.." I told him.

"Maybe in the future.." He smiled at me.

As we talked, he showed me around the garden, pointing out little details like the hidden path that led to a secluded spot overlooking the city. "This is my favorite view," he said, his eyes shining under the streetlights as he looked out at the skyline. "Whenever I feel lost or... out of place, I come here and just breathe. It reminds me of the mountains back home."

I found myself getting lost in his words, his voice, the way he seemed to understand everything I hadn't even said out loud.

Before I knew it, we'd been talking for two hours. I didn't even notice how late it was until he checked his watch, a hint of regret flashing across his face. "I should probably head home," he said, his voice softer now.

"Oh, right," I replied, feeling a pang of disappointment. I wanted to know his name, to ask him if we could meet again. But something held me back—maybe the quiet magic of meeting a stranger who felt like someone I'd known forever.

He looked at me for a moment, then smiled. "I hope you enjoy the city. There's a lot more to see," he said, stepping back.

"Thanks," I replied, my heart suddenly heavy. "I'll remember this place, especially now."

He gave me a small nod, and without another word, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the night. I stood there, the cool breeze brushing against my skin, feeling strangely empty and yet full at the same time.

I never got his name, but somehow, he'd left an impression on me—a piece of Wallington City that I'd carry with me long after I returned home.