[Jow Ylliard Hayle]
Sunday morning.
Our plan to buy the candied anchovies Clay had been craving actually happened.
We headed into the bustling marketplace.
Crowds everywhere. Voices shouting. Sellers calling out from every corner.
The heat was intense. The air thick with a mix of sweat, spices, and seafood.
“Told you they’d have it!” Clay beamed, cheeks flushed with excitement as she clutched the bag of what looked like anchovies smothered in bright red cheese. I couldn’t tell how many she’d bought.
“Is that really cheese?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Who cares? As long as it’s sweet and I get to eat it again.”
She popped one into her mouth, closed her eyes, and bounced in place like she’d just seen her favorite idol.
> She's actually blushing over food?<
My chest tightened a little. Weird. But it faded the moment I caught myself smiling at her.
Then she turned and caught me staring.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I shook my head, wiping the smile off my face. “What?”
She laughed—and chucked a piece of anchovy at me.
“Don’t throw that!” I caught it midair with my right hand.
“Eat it.”
I did. A sticky trail of red cheese lingered on my palm.
“Gonna lick that off?” she teased, eyes glinting with mischief.
“What the hell?” I grabbed a face towel from my pocket and wiped it clean.
“Let’s sit.”
Finally.
We found a spot with a table and two chairs. She immediately resumed munching her snack.
“Clay, didn’t you tell me last Friday that if other guys from the university saw me with you, I’d be in trouble?”
She only nodded, eyes closed in bliss from her food.
Sweet tooth, noted.
I watched the people streaming past us, waiting for her to finish. Maybe I’d say goodbye after.
“I was just joking,” she said suddenly. “I know you’d kill them instead.”
I glanced at her—cheese smudged the corner of her lips. I pointed to it.
She wiped it away, still smiling.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Dunno. Maybe you’ve got Mikey energy.”
I chuckled. “Wow, didn’t peg you for an anime nerd.”
“I’m not! I don’t even watch that stuff.” One eyebrow lifted, daring me to question her.
“Oh really? Then where’d you learn that line?”
“My boyfriend taught me?”
I chopped her shoulder lightly.
“Are you delusional?”
“Ow! That hurt!” She rubbed her shoulder.
“Sorry, guess I hit too hard.”
She slapped me in return—hard.
“Now we’re even,” she said with a smug grin while I massaged my cheek.
> Damn, that stung.<
---
Clay devoured the last of her candied anchovies.
I told her I was heading home, already halfway out of the market when she yanked the back of my shirt.
“Come with me, member.”
“We’re not at school. Don’t call me that. And this isn’t a club activity.”
She elbowed me.
“Stop complaining, jejemon,” she snapped, brows nearly colliding.
We ended up at Jollybee.
She ordered a Jolly Burger. I got rice and Jolly Fried Chicken.
She stared at me with a raised brow—like I’d committed a crime by eating rice this early.
> If your brain weren’t so chaotic, you’d be cute.<
“What? Rice isn’t banned.”
“Not saying it is. Just didn’t expect it. If I knew, I would’ve saved some candied anchovies. Goes great with rice.”
“Hard pass.” I waved her off.
“Picky much, Mr. Handsome?” she pouted.
Then she went completely silent.
She plugged in her earphones and fiddled with her phone, ignoring me until the food arrived.
> Women really are…<
You could feel the tension in her. Jaw tight. Eyes sharp. She didn’t even need to speak for me to notice her simmering mood.
We ate in silence.
Then, just as I finished, she spoke.
“You really are something else…”
I blinked, confused.
“I’m heading home after this,” she said with a sigh, glaring at me.
I sipped water from my glass.
“Dating you would be hardcore.”
I choked and coughed hard.
“What the hell are you saying?”
> This is NOT a date!<
“You don’t talk. At all. Not even about yourself. You’re like… emotionally allergic to romantic progression.”
“This isn’t a date. I just tagged along for anchovies.”
“That’s not the point.” She tapped her face in frustration. “Anyway, forget it. Tell me what really happened on the rooftop.”
I leaned back in my chair, eyes on the ceiling.
“Like I said, I saw a ghost. While I was eating, it just appeared. I tried to confront it… and when I touched its hand, my ability kicked in. I saw it again—”
“The black-colored string of fate,” she finished for me. I nodded.
“I believe you,” she said softly. Her face calm. No doubt.
I hesitated.
“Clay… do you think we can find that old man?”
“Not impossible,” she said, eyes shifting to the glass wall of the Jollybee. I followed her gaze.
Cars rushed down the highway, pedestrians weaving through traffic—even with the light green. Like they had nine lives.
“It’s not impossible. But there’s no guarantee when. Might take a year… or ten.”
“You’ve got a point.”
She looked back at me.
“Jow, your ability is dangerous. Instead of chasing that man, let’s focus on stopping your vision from fading.”
“I’m in.”
“Wow. That was fast.”
I smirked. “Of course. It’s your idea. How could I say no? You’re the club president who can literally track people’s reincarnations.”
She nodded, grinning. “Good boy.” She even flashed an ‘OK’ hand sign.
“Isn’t that also the money sign?”
She just shrugged.
“Jow, I’ll help you.” She held out her hand.
I didn’t hesitate. I reached out and shook it.
But then—
She squeezed. Hard. Loud enough to make my fingers crack.
> Ow! What the hell?!<
I tightened my grip right back.
Soon, she was wincing.
“Okay! Okay! I was just joking!” she cried. “Let go! I’m breaking up with you!”
> I’ll break your fingers, you menace!<
“What are you even saying? You started this!”
I squeezed harder.
“Please, master! It hurts!” she whimpered.
After a beat, I let go.
She cradled her hand, pouting. “You’re the worst. Bad boy. Alien!”
> Those insults don’t even go together…<
We wrapped things up and headed to the bus terminal.
Thank the stars she wanted to go home.
Probably because I nearly broke her hand.
I dug into my wallet and pulled out a pack of Salonpas.
We weren’t taking the same bus. I walked her to her terminal.
“Will this help the pain?” I asked, handing it to her.
She scowled. “Where’s the scissors?”
I blinked. “Just use the whole thing.”
“What a waste.”
“Why bother cutting it when using it all is more comfortable?”
Her expression softened. She smiled and bumped my shoulder.
“Thanks, boy alien.”
She turned and climbed onto her bus.
“Who are you calling boy alien?!” I shouted after her.
I sighed and turned away, walking toward my own ride home.
My phone buzzed.
I didn’t even have to check to know—it was her.
Clayri Aisfine Ezz:
* My hand hurts! 🥺
* What the heck was that?! 🥹
* Thanks for the Salonpas though, boy alien. 😏
* Bus just left. You on yours yet? I’m standing, bro! 🥹😅😂
* If anyone touches me here, I’m reporting it to you. You punch them, I’ll dig the grave 😤😠😈
* For real though, my hand still hurts 😮‍💨 You’re no gentleman. If all guys were like you, feminine folks are doomed! 😣😣😣
* Careful on the way home. A UFO might suck you up. 😂😂😂 Do aliens really have big heads? 👽👽👽 Why is yours kinda cute? ☺️
* Don’t use your power again. Even if some pretty girl whispers sweet things in your ear—don’t peek at her string of fate. Obviously, a cute babe wouldn’t be your destiny. LOL just kidding! Don’t hit me! 😜😜😜
I accidentally pressed the power button.
The screen went black.
When it lit up again, I saw my reflection—smiling.
Didn’t even notice I was grinning the whole time I read her messages.
> What a clown. Strange woman.<
I opened Facebook and scrolled through my feed—
Then almost dropped my phone.
A heavy pressure slammed into my chest. My heart raced. Sweat poured. Fingers numb.
> Is this for real?<
Freshly posted: a photo on the university gossip page “What’s Happening @ PSU-San Juanita?”
(Popular student Clayrin Aisfine Ezz spotted in public with a guy. Secret boyfriend, maybe?)
Below were two photos: one of us entering the market together. The other—a solo shot of Clay walking, probably taken when she went to the restroom.
> Is my back profile recognizable? God, I hope not.<
To be continued.