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Cold weather is currently embracing the whole of New York City. From an apartment she owns for a quite long time, she can see from the clear glass window of her living room, the sudden change of the temperature. It's getting cooler and cooler; she had to even wear the thickest pair of clothes she kept on her cuddy to cover her freezing body.
In a fireplace from beside, she's slumped in a couch which she certainly finds very comfortable to seat at especially with the kind of weather they have. A cup of tea and a good book she's engaged with since for a couple of days now. No shows, no tv guestings. She's giving herself a three-day-treat after the mind-breaking eight shows a week she's done.
This two-and-a-half-mile-long paradise with its mind relaxation— has always been a heaven-like to her not only because it gives comfort but also because this place she reckons a work-free-place—graces her presence is seemingly enough for her.
Feeling like she had been patient long enough, Lea stormed into the kitchen, the fringe on her crochet Pucci caftan that doubles her on the outside shaking furiously as she made a beeline towards the sideboard, to get herself some simple cuisine she perhaps, knew how to prepare.
Getting all the ingredients she needed, Lea turns to the main stove only to find herself picking up a call from a long distance.
"Yes, Mummy?" She started with a perfect English accent. She was at the end of the couch, cupping the telephone close to her mouth.
"What? Okay, hang on, I still do have shows going on, right?" Lea froze—she recognized the name, especially since this person, her mom was talking about, is the one that she'd worked before, has become a part of her life. That one person she left a piece of her heart behind. Bloody hell!
1995... that is one year from now, bit her lips and squares her shoulders, listening to every over-enunciate word Ligaya addresses.
"Mum, would it not be awkward?" It was only after two years that she'll be seeing him again. This was really happening. It was true—in recent years, she hadn't given herself much of the time to hear some trifle of information 'bout his life status. Ligaya had even said, 'I know it's hard for you to give him a chance. Hear him out first, sweetheart. Talk to him, understand his situation.' Lea found this sort of armchair analysis much too simplistic. If only it were that easy. For Lea, this call-out will practically bring fear on her. She began to notice a phenomenon that occurred whenever how destiny simply plays with people. Breathing the same air would be perfectly nice and normal to her, but that was before. No special treatment would be reserved for her, not anymore.
"It wouldn't, if and only if you'd conduct yourself properly." She rolls her eyes as she can imagine her mum flashing a conspiratorial grin across her face. Gawd blimey!
"I am your daughter! You should be on my side, Mum!"
"Oui tu es ma fille mais je suis team babes." Lea holds back her senses and raised an immediate objection. "I am a hundred percent sure that's not such a good idea. For first, I really don't think this entire thing will work out. Second, working with him again is something I will never, ever do. No. Not. Again. So please old lady, don't ever put your beautiful daughter into such complicated situation. Cause I really can't."
Ligaya basked to Lea's response, laughing coquettish."Oh, sorry sweetheart, I just did. I already signed the paper for I knew you wouldn't do it so I did it for you."
"Mummy? Are you serious? You should've at least informed me. You are unbelievable." She speaks, between her brows, her glabella bitterly frowning, the last words she sought.
"Maria Lea Carmen Imutan Salonga, if I should've-at-least-informed-you, do you think you'll agree with this? I know you, young lady."
"All right, all right, seems like I do not have any choice. Eres una gran madre soy muy afortunado, ¡oh dios!" Under the lambent shade of light, a thought pumped up through her–
"Well anyway, can you send me some of the stale collection I stuffed over my box? I had some big trouble gone coruscate due to homesickness. I miss home, Mummy."
"Home? Or someone?"
"What the?!" No one can really beat a mother in terms of conversations. That's indeed. *face-palm* *crossed-fingers*
