Chapter Text
Thursday
3:30 PM
Sunlight casted through the windows giving the classroom a soft afternoon glow no one was appreciating. Karamihan sa mga estudyante bagot na bagot na at naghihintay na lang matapos ang klase.
In front of the class, written on the board:
FINAL OUTPUT : LOVE IN ALL FORMS
Create a 30 minute documentary on any forms of love.
Be personal, be brave.
In the back row, sat a 17 year old Natasha Yoon-Choi, in her crisp uniform hair neatly tucked behind her ears. She’s already contemplating kung anong topic ang gagawin niya para sa documentary na to.
“I bet half of the class would do a documentary about their boyfriends or girlfriends” Miggy Jeon-Kim, her childhood best friend said.
“Ugh, I know. I can already hear ‘Till I Met You’ in the background” said Natasha
Sir Seungkwan, their teacher, clapped twice in front of the class.
“Guys! This is 30% of your final grade. I want you to treat this seriously, treat this like your research. What I want is not just pretty shots. Dapat may bigat, may puso.”
“Sir, what if wala po kaming puso?” Miggy joked. That made the whole classroom laugh.
Beside him, Natasha is already contemplating what kind of love she would feature in this documentary.
“Migs, what if I feature my parents?”
“Are you sure about that? In case your forgot, your parents are separated.” asked Miggy
“Why not? Sabi naman, all forms of love.”
“Well, you’re right. Pero ready ka na bang marinig ang side ng parents mo?”
“I need to hear it anyway.”
_____________________
Later that night, in a 2-storey house and lot in Quezon City, soft lo-fi music and the smell of garlic surrounding the kitchen, Jeonghan Yoon, quietly hums to himself while preparing their dinner, wearing an apron that says “Egg-cellent Dad” a gift from his daughter Natasha.
Sinusubukan tyempuhan ni Nat kung paano nya sasabihin sa daddy nya ang tungkol sa project nito.
“Daddy, can I have coke zero?”
“No, mag water ka nalang”
“Why not? Tatay lets me have one when we have dinner on weekends”
“Exacty, your Tatay is already spoiling you”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, it was a normal routine. Natasha watched her dad’s movement in front of her. He has always been gentle, every movement measured. Pinakapakiramdam ni Natasha kung paano sya sasabihin sa daddy nya ang tungkol sa project nito.
“Sabihin mo na. What’s bothering you anak?”
“Huh? How’d you know?” takang tanong nito.
“You’re my baby, I always know”
“May final project kami,” she said.
“Hmm. Do you need help?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s a 30- minute documentary. The theme is love.”
Jeonghan smiled. “Sounds deep.”
“Mm. I was thinking… maybe kayo ni Tatay?”
He froze for half a second.
“Why us?”
“’Cause you’re a love story.”
“Were,” he said gently. “We were a love story.”
“Past tense love is still love.”
He took a sip of water, avoiding her gaze. “Natasha…”
“You always said I was made out of love,” she pressed.
“You were.”
“Then let me prove it.”
He set down his spoon and looked at her fully now. His eyes were soft but unreadable, the kind of tired in the way only people who’ve survived heartbreak without burning everything can be.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “One condition.”
“Name it.”
“You show me the final cut before anyone else.”
“Of course.”
“If I say delete it…”
“Then I delete it.”
Friday
7:45 PM
It was the weekend, meaning Nat is scheduled to stay at Seungcheol’s place. She punched in the code to his Tatay Cheol’s condo unit, which by the way looked more like a showroom model unit rather than a home. Glass, leather, silence, kung hindi titignang mabuti aakalain mong walang nakatira dito.
“Tay,” she called, walking in. “Why does it always feel like no one lives here?”
“Because I clean,” Seungcheol said from the kitchen preparing their dinner, still in his white dress shirt. His tie was half-loosened. There were dark circles under his eyes.
“You look tired,” she muttered
“I’m okay, it’s just that I’ve been busy with a project lately anak”
“You should rest.”
“I’m resting now.”
“You call this resting?”
He didn’t answer.
“Tay,” she said slowly, “I have a final project.”
“Mmm?”
“Documentary. The theme is love.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Okay…?”
“I wanna interview you.”
“No.”
“Tay—”
“Nope.”
“Hindi mo pa nga naririnig ‘yung tanong!”
“Still no.”
“Tay, please.”
“Pick someone else.”
“I want you.”
“Then fail.”
She glared at him. He didn’t even flinch.
“You’re so dramatic,” she muttered.
“Sabi mo nga, mana ka sa akin.”
Later that night, Nat thought of ways kung paano nya mapapapayag ang Tatay nya para sa interview. Between her two dads, Seungcheol is the one who’s not good with feelings. She would have to try again some other time, but she’s determined to do this documentary about her parents.
The next day, the rice cooker pinged. Steam curled up fogging up Cheol’s glasses as he lifted the lid, Natasha leaned against the counter in her cherry pajamas sipping iced coffee.
“You always cook rice like you’re feeding a whole barangay” she said grinning
“Becuase you eat like one” he shot back not missing a beat
They both laugh together. This was their rhythm.
After they ate. They sat on the couch, a movie playing in the background. Natasha tucked her feet, her Tatay Cheol leaned his head back, finally resting after a week of non-stop work.
Natasha tries again,
“Tay?” she said softly
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask again?”
He didn’t move. But she felt him tensed up.
“About the documentary” she continued “I know you already said no, and I respect that, pero … I just want you to know why I asked.”
He turned off the movie and faced her.
“It’s not just for school Tay, it’s also for me”
“Anak”
“Hindi ko naman need ng perfect answers, or drama, or anything heavy. Gusto ko lang malaman yung mga bagay bagay na hindi ko naitatanong. I just want to know you and Daddy more. Yung kayo before.”
Seungcheol’s face softened, but his eyes were still guarded.
“Natasha…”
“I promise, I won’t push after this. Last na ‘to. Pero please… Kailangan ko lang marinig ‘yung version mo. Even if it hurts.”
He sighed, long and slow. Ran a hand through his hair.
“You really think hearing it will help?”
“I think pretending I don’t want to know is hurting more.”
Silence.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Hands clasped.
“I left because I was scared,” he said.
“Not of him. Of me. Kasi habang tumatagal, I was watching him fade. And I didn’t know if it was because of me.”
Natasha’s breath caught.
“And I thought maybe… kung aalis ako, kung ako na lang ang masasaktan… maybe he’d shine again.”
“Did he?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I never asked.”
“Maybe now’s the time.”
He looked up at her. And for once, he looked like her Tatay — not the boss, not the ghost of a past love — just a man trying to protect the people he loves, even from himself.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “You can ask. This weekend. Bring your camera.”
“You sure?”
“I’m not. But you’re asking. And that’s enough.”
She smiled.
“I love you, Tay.”
He smiled too, small and real.
“I never stopped loving either of you.”
And for the first time in a long time, Natasha felt like she wasn’t chasing a story.
She was holding it. Finally.