Jiya,s pov
I was crying uncontrollably. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop my tears. My heart refused to accept that I would never see Alex face to face again. At that moment, the taxi driver was saying something in Tagalog. I told him to speak in English. In his broken English, he was asking me where to drop me off.
By then, I had calmed my sobbing just a little, trying to think of a place to name. But outside Manila, I knew nothing. Even Manila itself, I barely knew. The driver kept asking me again and again because I had already been in his taxi for two hours without getting down anywhere.
Alex's memories kept flooding my mind so deeply that I didn't even notice how two hours had passed. I finally forced myself to stop crying and tried to think where I should go-but my mind couldn't focus at all. It was filled only with Alex, with his face that kept coming back again and again.
At one point, when the driver didn't get any answer from me, he got angry and said, "If you not stop any place, then get out my taxi." Naturally, I had been sitting there too long without saying anything. I paid the fare and got down. My money was already short, and now, after riding two hours in a Manila taxi, I could only imagine how much had been wasted.
After getting down, I saw a park in front of me. I went in and sat on a bench. I called Sofy-she didn't receive. I tried several times, still no answer. I called my mother instead and lied, telling her my phone had problems and that I would buy a new one, so we wouldn't be able to talk for a few days. I had to lie-because I already live so far away, and my parents worry too much about me. We talk every day, and even this news-that they won't hear from me for days-was enough to make them tense.
I tried Sofy again. Still no answer. I didn't understand why this girl wasn't picking up. So I wrote everything in detail in a long message, the truth of what happened, and sent it to her.
Just then, Grandma (Dadi) called me. I wanted to pick up so badly, but I couldn't-because no matter what happened, I had to disappear from their lives. I didn't want to be the cause of trouble in their family. So I switched off my phone. There was a dustbin in front of me; I threw the phone inside. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
I was going to miss Grandma so much. In such a short time, she had made me her own, so dearly. If only I could hug her one last time. Leaning against the bench, I sat there. Tears kept streaming from my eyes. I closed my eyes... and fell asleep.
I don't know how long I slept. Suddenly, I felt a small hand on my cheek. My eyes opened. A little girl was wiping my tears and speaking in Tagalog:
"Huwag kang umiyak, ang ngiti ng tao ang pinakamaganda at pinakamahalaga. Ngayon, ngiti ka."
(Don't cry. A person's smile is the most beautiful and most precious thing. Now, smile.)
As always, I didn't understand a word of Tagalog. I said, "Sorry, baby, I don't understand Tagalog." After saying that, I wondered if the little girl would understand English. She looked at me with wide eyes, as if surprised-clearly she didn't understand what I said.
Then she simply said one word: "Smile."
I understood-she was asking me to smile. I smiled at her. Realizing that I didn't understand Tagalog, the little girl didn't try to speak more, but through her gestures she tried to communicate, even though I couldn't follow.
A little later, a woman came to her, smiling, and said:
"Prinsesa, matagal na tayong nasa labas, umuwi na tayo."
(Princess, we've been outside for so long, let's go home.)
The little girl smiled and answered, "Sige, Inay, umuwi na tayo."
(Okay, Mom, let's go home).
The little girl held that woman's hand and walked away. I sat on the bench for a long time before finally standing up. I had spent the entire day in this park, and now it was almost night. There was a departmental store just outside the park.
I hadn't eaten anything since last night, and the hunger was unbearable. I needed to eat something light because I barely had any money left. I thought about telling Sofy that my money had run out, but she hadn't answered my calls. And now, I had thrown away my phone-until I got a new one, I wouldn't be talking to anyone.
I went inside the departmental store, bought a sandwich, and started eating. But my mind was circling around Alex, only Alex.
Just then, my eyes suddenly caught sight of the TV inside the store.
Breaking News: Alina Mathew and Alex Astor have been rushed to St. Luke's Medical Center after a car accident. Both are in critical condition.
The sandwich slipped from my hand and fell to the ground.
The pain in the left side of my chest suddenly became unbearable. I screamed out in agony as tears streamed down my face without stopping. My body gave way, collapsing from the chair to the floor. I cried and cried, my voice breaking with every sob. People around me stared in shock.
Through my tears, I looked at them and shouted, "Please! Someone call a taxi for me, please!"
But everyone only stood there, frozen, eyes wide in surprise. Somehow, forcing myself together, I stumbled out of the store. I ran into the streets like a madwoman, desperately searching for a taxi. Not a single one was free. At last, after struggling in pain, I found one. Somehow, I climbed inside.
But the moment I sat down, my mind went blank. I couldn't remember the hospital's name.
"Jiya, think! Please, quickly, think!" I begged myself.
Finally, after what felt like ages, the name came back. I blurted out to the driver, "St. Luke's Medical Center."
As soon as the words left my mouth, the taxi sped off. I leaned forward again and again, asking, "How long will it take? Please, tell me how long?"
At first the driver said nothing, but after listening to my desperate voice for so long, he finally snapped, "Ma'am, it'll still take 45 minutes. I can't fly the car."
His words silenced me. I sank back, broken, tears flowing again. Every second stretched into an eternity. Forty-five minutes felt like forty-five years.
I prayed in my heart, "Allah, please, let everything be alright. Please."
I couldn't look at the road anymore. My chest was heavy, my heart restless. Closing my eyes, I whispered, "Allah, fix everything... please."
After what felt like forever, I finally reached the hospital.
The gates were flooded with reporters, media, police-so many people gathered that I couldn't see the entrance clearly. I hurriedly stepped out of the taxi, rushing toward the gate, but the driver shouted behind me, reminding me of the fare. In my panic, I had forgotten. Quickly, I paid him and tried again to push toward the hospital, but the crowd was suffocating.
At last, after forcing my way through, I reached the gate. The guard stood firm, blocking me. Through sobs I begged, "Please, let me inside! Please, I need to go in!"
The guard looked at me, confused, and then spoke:
"Sino pong pasyente ang hinahanap ninyo? Kung guest kayo ni Sir Alex, kailangan niyo pong magpakita ng proof."
["Which patient are you here for? If you're a guest of Sir Alex, you must show proof."]
I couldn't understand everything in Tagalog, but I caught one word-Alex. My chest tightened. At that very moment, I saw Bob Sir just inside the hospital, near the gate.
"Bob Sir!" I screamed out.
He turned, startled, and gestured to the guard. The moment the guard saw his signal, he stepped aside and let me in. I ran straight to Bob Sir, trembling, tears blinding me.
He looked at me in shock, unsure of what to say. But I burst out, crying harder:
"What's Alex's condition now? How is he? Is it really worse? Did you talk to the doctors? Did you see him?"
One question after another tumbled from my mouth.
"Calm down, Jiya... I'll tell you everything," he said softly.
I wiped my tears quickly. "Please, tell me..."
He sighed heavily, pain clear in his eyes. "Alex's condition... is not good. The doctors said tonight is critical. By tomorrow morning, if his system doesn't respond, he might slip into a coma."
The world spun around me. I dropped to the floor, numb, unable to hear anything else. Silence drowned my ears. After a long moment, I lifted my tear-streaked face toward him.
"Sir... Alex will live, won't he?"
He looked at me, startled, then quickly said, "He'll be fine, Jiya. Don't worry."
Through my sobs, I pleaded, "Take me to him. Please, I just want to see him once."
He studied me, confused at my desperation, but nodded. "His family hasn't arrived yet. If you want to see him, it must be now."
"Then let's go now!" I said firmly, pulling myself up.
Together we rushed toward the third floor. Just as we reached, his phone rang. He frowned, stepping aside to take the call, leaving me to continue alone. My heart raced as I searched the floor for Alex's room.
I stopped a nurse and asked. She pointed me toward it.
I stood before the door, frozen, my breath uneven. I knew opening it would shatter me. With trembling hands, I pushed it open.
There he was.
Alex lay silently, his chest rising faintly, eyes closed. Bandages covered much of his head, blood seeping through. One arm and one leg broken. His body so still... too still.
I covered my mouth with both hands, trying to hold back the sobs, but I couldn't. The cries broke free.
Inner voice: "No, Jiya... don't cry now. Don't break down."
But how could I not? My soul screamed.
"Allah, why? Why did I have to see him like this?"
I collapsed onto the floor beside him, tears flooding, whispering broken prayers:
"Please, Allah... please heal Alex. Don't take him away. Please save him. Please... let him live. Please let him stay well."
I cried until my strength gave out, my heart breaking in pieces beside the man I loved.