Michaels in Love (BoyXBoy) English

Chapter 29 - Season 1: A Twist of Fate

My knees weakened, and a cold shiver crawled up my spine. This couldn't be real. Just this morning, I had seen her—alive, vibrant, speaking to me with her warm, knowing smile. Yet here she was, her image encased in a frame, surrounded by offerings meant for the departed.

I stumbled forward, my voice barely escaping my throat. "Excuse me... is her name Lorenza?" I asked, the words shaky and fragile, like a glass about to shatter.

The woman looked up, startled. Her tired eyes met mine, studying me with a mix of curiosity and caution. "Yes," she replied slowly. "Do you... know my mother?"

Her mother? My mind reeled. I could barely process the question. "Your mother... Lorenza?"

Her expression softened with a sadness that seemed to seep into her very being. "Yes," she said, her voice quiet. "Lorenza was my mother."

The word "was" slammed into me like a blow to the chest. My breath caught. The candles, the roses—it all began to make a terrible kind of sense.

"She's... gone?" I whispered, though it wasn't really a question. The pieces of the puzzle clicked together, but I refused to believe the picture they formed.

The woman nodded slowly. "She passed away... a year ago. Right here, in this spot. It was Valentine's Day, 2011. A heart attack..." Her voice wavered, and she glanced down at the candles flickering against the breeze. "We come here to honor her."

Her words echoed in my ears, each one louder and more deafening than the last. My chest tightened, and I staggered back a step, gripping the railing beside me for support. My vision blurred as tears welled up, spilling over before I could stop them.

"No," I croaked, shaking my head. "No, that's not possible. She's alive. I saw her today. I spoke to her. She—" My voice broke as the weight of my own words crushed me.

The woman's eyes widened, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. "You... saw her?" she asked, her tone hesitant.

"Yes," I insisted, the tears now streaming freely. "She was there before, on the train platform. I helped her down the stairs. She... she smiled at me. She even spoke to me."

The woman's face paled, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her chest. "That's... impossible," she whispered. "My mother is gone. She's been gone for a year."

I wanted to argue, to protest, but the conviction in her voice was unshakable. Yet, I couldn't shake the image of Lola Lorenza—her kind smile, her soft-spoken words. It had been real. It had to be real.

The woman introduced herself as Imelda, her voice trembling as she tried to make sense of what I was saying. "Michael," I replied weakly when she asked my name, the strength in my voice faltering.

Imelda's brows furrowed as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "We are from Samar, my mother... she had a wish before she passed," she said, her words trembling. "She was desperate to find someone. My sister—not by blood, but my niece. My mother raised her like her own child. They were so close, but she disappeared from our lives 20 years ago. My mother never stopped looking for her."

A new kind of ache settled in my chest. The grief in Imelda's voice, the unfulfilled longing of a mother searching for a lost child—it was unbearable.

"Do you think..." I began, my voice hesitant, "she's... trying to find her still?"

Imelda looked at me with wide, tear-filled eyes, and for a moment, we stood there, the chaos of the city fading into silence.

I turned to the photograph again, my heart pounding. Lola Lorenza's eyes stared back at me, vivid and haunting, as if she were looking right through me. It felt as though she had something to say, a message left unsaid.