A Twist Of Time

sixteen

Sergio didn't even bother coming back to the room anymore. No trace of him was found as soon as he left, and asking the guards where he went was useless; apparently, they were told not to tell anybody where he was going for the night, Margaux and Jane told me. Thinking that he probably went to the piers and got a special ferry that would take his letter to Manuel, I told Jane and Margaux to go back to their rooms and leave me be. They obeyed silently without any objections.

I put the cup that I was drinking from down, sighing. Maybe I bothered him too much. Maybe I said something mean—but maybe it wasn't about me. There were so many possibilities on why he left. But didn't I already solve why, though? He wanted his letter to be sent to his best friend—whatever it contained. It's not me. I did nothing. I laid down and went to sleep. This was nothing concerning me, so I should be able to sleep comfortably.

But I couldn't.

I could hear my heart pounding loud and I couldn't take it anymore. I got up despite my eyesight spinning, rushing out of my room and down the familiar walls of the palace. "Miss! Where do you think you're going?" a guard screamed after me, but I continued my pace. The only time I would stop was when I finally reached the garden; it just seemed to where my body was taking me. "You could die out there!"

I turned around. We were now outside and it was the guard that I saw when I first got here that stayed in Sergio's doorway. Agitated, I asked, "Where is he?"

"Where's who?"

"Sergio. Please tell me. I'm—"

"I can't tell you! He told me himself."

I groaned. "Can't you just give me an idea of where he is? I'm great at solving mysteries."

"I can't, ma'am. I'm sorry."

"Are you serious?" I exclaimed as I ran my fingers through my hair. "He could've been captured by the Japanese!"

"Ma'am, that is least likely to happen—"

"Then why can't you tell me?"

"It's his orders!"

"Valerie? What are you doing here?"

I turned around and saw Sergio's figure in the dark. Sighing, I said, "I've been having a tour around the palace. Nothing big." Of course I wasn't just going to tell him that I nearly harassed his guard because I was looking for him.

"Are you, really?" he asked. I could hear the sarcasm in his voice; he was seeing right through me. "I've been here long enough to know."

"That's not the problem here. Why didn't you want your guards to tell us where you've been?"

"Marco, you can go back to your station now." He walked close as the guard left. "Because I didn't want you to get out of bed and follow me."

"Did you actually think I would waste my time chasing after you?" Well, I just did.

"Yes."

"You're not letting this go, aren't you?" He shook his head. "Where did you go, though? Why did you just leave us?"

"I had to do something important."

"What was it?"

"Papers."

"Then why are you in the garden? Did someone bring your papers here, then?"

"I was taking a break," he muttered.

"Why did you suddenly leave us? Tell the truth."

"I told you—papers! I'm about to become the President of this country, of course I have a lot to do!"

"You're not even sure about that. There's an election to be held and you could lose. It's still Manuel's term."

He lowered down his head, cowering. "He won't complete it."

"Why?" I learned a lot about Quezon in my time and he was my favorite president. I already knew why he wasn't going to complete his term. But I didn't expect it to come so suddenly.

"He didn't complete it. Everything's in my hands now."

"What happened to Quezon?"

Sergio's eyes were looking at the grass, tearing up. "I can't tell you."

"You can't tell anything to me! You can't tell me where you've been, you can't tell me what you're doing, and you can't even tell me what's wrong with you!"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because I care about you! Isn't it obvious? Are you really that blind?"

"I'm not! I just—I don't want you to know."

I raised my eyebrow. "Sergio, I come from the future. I know Manuel died of Tuberculosis in America."

"If you already knew, why do you need me to tell you?"

"I just need to."

"That sounds selfish."

I was offended, and it was evident in my actions. "You listen to me. I'm trying my best to be nice to you. I'm trying my hardest to help you out—"

"What if I don't need your help?"

I fell silent.

"Then I don't need you. Just let me get out of here since you don't need my help, which was the only thing I had to offer."

"Is that everything you have to offer?"

No. I liked him, but my romantic attraction to him wasn't something to offer. "Yes. If you don't need it, I'm going back to my–wait, your room–since you're now the president and own this whole place. I own nothing here. I'll let myself out tomorrow morning. Goodbye, Sergio."

I rushed inside, not looking back. I was crying. And he was the reason for these tears running down my face. Of all the people that could've made me cry in the 1940s, it was President Sergio Osmeña himself.

He was right; what did he need me for? He didn't need my help. He didn't need me.

My door was locked all night and the only thing that could be heard in the deafening silence was his footsteps heading toward his office which was only a few rooms away from mine. I took off the long sleeved dress and the tacky foot-length skirt I was wearing and put on the clothes I wore when I arrived here; my clothes. If I was going to leave, I want to make sure that I leave without any memory or trace of him.