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Sinta ko (revised)

Tags: Non-MC F!Reader x Zayne, Reader isn’t MC, Reader is addressed w female pronouns (she/her), Spanish colonial AU! Not historically accurate , romance, pinning, domestic moments, possibly OOC Zayne and Caleb , there are translations (not exactly word by word but I translated it based on what's the most accurate thought behind it, it's italicized beside or after the dialogue) , fluff, so much pinning and longing, teasing and banter, different social classes, they haven't seen each other in years let them fall in love again, childhood friends to people who havent seen each other in years to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, established relationship at the end, courtship, theyre falling in love awwwww, zayne haranas for youuuu and you sing back and and *sniffles*

TW: slight blood and injuries (in one scene), cussing, and discrimination between social classes, illness (no death)

wc: 6,687 words (translations included)

taglist: @sylusonychinus, @gawa-ng-gabi, @jadeloverxd, @seris-the-amious

a/n: hewwoo its been almost a month or two since i last wrote !! and im currently on break for a bit which means i get to write again! anyways, this is sinta ko (revised) , the sequel to giliw ko (revised). additionally, i will be adding the link to the original sinta ko fic . Header and fic made by me. Please don't claim as your own or feed to AI.

⋆⁺₊❅。

When was the last time you saw Zayne?

You saw him, but you don't remember exactly when. Was it months ago? Years? Decades?

Since Zayne left, everyday felt ordinary.

You woke up before dawn and tended to your mother and her weakening health. You and your father helped her up, allowing her to sit down to watch the sunrise. Next, you prepared breakfast, and made sure your parents had something to eat before you left for the market. You dusted up your skirts, tied your hair up and grabbed the basket of produce to sell before saying goodbye to your parents.

You headed to your usual area in the market. The sun shined down on your face, the loud calls and bargains can be heard from the vendors and buyers. You headed to your usual spot in the vegetable section of the market amongst the other women, young and old.

You raised your voice, loud and clear to call out to potential customers. People passed your way, others brought a vegetable or two , and some tried to bargain with you about prices established, and the rest passed you by.

Customers were customers; they were yours sometimes, and other times, they weren't.

During the midday, you hid behind your small stall to have lunch before returning back to work. You did the same thing , trying to get your stock sold out and yet, like every other day, it wasn't. You sighed and glanced at the last few bits of onions and garlic.

As the day ended, you returned home. You clutched your basket close as you opened the bamboo door, your mother greeted you.

You set the basket aside and hugged her.

“Magandang gabi, nay.” Good-evening, ma. You greeted, “Kumusta po tayo?” How are you feeling?

Your mother, despite her illness , gave a sweet smile. “Maayos naman, ija,” I'm well, dear. She glanced at the basket on the floor and sighed, “Sabi ko sa iyo na wag na magtrabaho. Kaya pa man namin ng tatay mo.” I keep telling you not to work so much. Your father and I can still handle it.

You smiled politely, and shook your head as you placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Nay,” Ma... You said softly, “May sakit ka po, diba? Hayaan mo na kami ni tatay mag-alaga sa iyo…” You're sick, remember? Let father and I take care of you...

Your mother sighed. “Parehas talaga kayo ng tatay mo, no? Ang tigas ng ulo...” You're as stubborn as your father... She laughed and shook her head, “Kain na tayo? Hinihintay ka na ng tatay mo…” Let's eat? Your father is waiting for us. You held your mother's hand, heading to the small dining room to eat together as a family.

Dinner passed smoothly, say for the occasional coughs from your mother and the mumbled urges of your father as he tried to make her drink water.

Rinse and repeat.

It was a life, yes, but a mundane everyday one. A life you memorized and lived through autopilot.

With the season getting colder, your mother's illness worsened to the point of her being unable to stand or leave the bed.

That gave you a reason to work even harder.

You found other jobs — laundry and cooking maid, babysitting children of the elite, errand girl, and others to earn enough money for your mother.

“May kilala ka bang doktor, Señora?” Do you know a doctor, Madam?

You asked your mistress. You were a new servant in the family’s household, tasked to take care of the children. She was a new one to the barrio, a wife of a wealthy man.

She scoffed at your question, “At bakit ka ba nagtatanong? Hindi naman parte ng trabaho mo magtanong.” And why are you asking? Its not in your job description to ask questions.

You gritted through your teeth. There were really people like them, no? Just because they had more privilege or paler skin meant that they could look down upon others.

You shook your head, “Para po sa ina ko, señora.” Its for my mother, Madam. You reasoned.

“Ano ba ang pakialam ko sa ina mo? ” Do I look like I care about your mother? She scoffs. You nearly dropped the plate you cleaned, wanting to make a statement, but that said, if she gets hurt, you'd be imprisoned and it will be more difficult for your family. You remained quiet, finishing up instead before leaving for the day.

As you walked back home, a familiar silhouette stood beside you. You looked to your side and raised your hand to defend yourself, but it was caught between theirs. You glanced up, knowing that cheeky smile wherever you went.

It was Caleb’s.

“Gago ka!” You bitch! You yelled, your hand tried to fish its way out of his hold “Ikaw ha! Bakit mo iyan ginawa?” What the fuck was that for?

He laughed. “At bakit ka naman galit? Di lang tayo nagkita ng ilang buwan At tapos, magpapa-sungti ka?” And why are you angry? We didn't see each other for a few months and now you're acting all grumpy. He teased, ruffling your hair. You hit him again.

“Bakit ka dito?” Why are you here? You asked.

“Bawal ba?” Am I not allowed to be here? He retorted. You sighed.

“Hindi naman…” Not really... You answered, dusting your skirt. “Uuwi na ako kinana Nanay at Tatay. Malubha ang sakit ni Nanay… Naghahanap ako ng doktor, O baka naman mangagagmot— kahit sino na lang.” I'm going home to. Mother hasn't been feeling well. I've been looking for a doctor, or maybe a healer— anyone really. You confined to him as you walked back home together.

“Alam mo, may kilala akong doktor.” I know a doctor. Caleb said, moments before reaching home. You glanced at his direction, eyes brimmed with possible hope that it'll be a good doctor, one that can save your mother's health and wouldn't dismiss her like others.

“Sino?” Who? You asked.

He smiled, and got a piece of paper inside his trousers and handed it to you, pressing his hands against yours. Caleb wasn't present around the barrio nowadays, having gone to Manila to serve for the Guardia Civil , the Spanish police. Of course, he had connections.

You tilted your head as you mumbled a thank you quickly before stepping inside with him.

Dinner was the usual, but with the added bonus of Caleb being there and entertaining your parents with his various experiences in Manila and his time in the Guardia Civil. You nodded along, and listened to him talk on and on, wondering what a life beyond the comforts of a province would be like. What Maynila was truly like.

As the night came to an end, you escorted Caleb out of the house, a complete opposite from what a woman would do. He pouted playfully, and tried to object to your behavior but you laughed along, dragging him out of the house as he said goodbye to your parents.

It took a while to convince your mother to see a doctor, and not either a manggagamot or an albularyo. You dragged her to the place written down on the paper, and made sure to hold her hand so that she wouldn't get lost.

You stopped at the gates of a familiar building.

It was Zayne’s old home. The same old home you met him with. The same old home where your mother and father and grandparents worked. The same old home that held so many memories— it feels too good to be true to stand face to face with it.

But here you were. Standing in front of the familiar gates. Not as the young girl that grew up in her comforts, but as a grown woman, down at her last option.

There were plenty of people, young and old, men and women, the rich and the poor waiting patiently for their names to be called by the secretary. It was something new for you. You haven't been to the doctor's before, having trusted and used local medicines and believed to rid you of your illnesses as a child and teenager, the same thing your parents had used to because it was cheaper than a doctor and was more known in the barrio.

You made sure your mother was seated and weaved yourself through the small crowd of people like the sea that washes upon the shore of everyday life— you memorized this place, but felt alien towards it. You walked over to the woman sitting down with piles of papers, perhaps that's the secretary of the doctor. She glanced up and smiled,

“Bago ka ba dito?” Hello, are you new here? She asked. You nodded. She gets a piece of paper and a pen and began to ask for information about you. You immediately shake your head,

“Parang hindi tayo nagkakaintindihan. Hindi po ako yung may sakit, yung ina ko po.” I think there's a misunderstanding. I'm not sick, my mother is. You explained. She laughed, and corrected herself before repeating.

You glanced around. The familiar wooden walls had stood tall, photos of the family lined their walls as generations of men and women watched people come in and out of their home, hoping for a better solution to their ailments. Time ticked slowly as the sun rose higher into the sky. Your eyes were starting to get heavy, and your mother was leaning against you for a moment's rest.

The secretary called your mother's name like a bell that breaks the silence of night. You nudged her awake. “Nay,” Ma... You said softly, trying to wake her, “Tayo na. Tinawag na tayo.” Let's go. They're calling your name.

She muttered something in response before you helped her up and led her towards the room.

You had been inside this room before. The old smell of books and wood was replaced with ammonia and sterile supplies. You took a step, your mother following behind you as you face the presumed doctor.

Zayne.

Or should you be calling him Doctor Zayne?

He glanced down for a moment, and reviewed the patient information given to him by the secretary beforehand. He was still handsome, yes, with soft and cold eyes, his hair short and kept nicely.

“Nay, si Zayne po ito.” Auntie,its me, Zayne. He said to your mother, his voice soft and modulated. Your mother's eyes lit up. “Ijo? Ikaw ba ‘yan , ijo ko?” My dear? Is that really you, my dear Zayne?

He nodded. “Opo, ang ijo inaalagaan mo noong una po," Yes, I was the boy you took care of, He grabbed his stethoscope, “At ngayon po, Nay, ako naman po ang maaalaga sa iyo.” And now, it's my turn to take care of you.

You watched as Zayne proceeded with his routine. A new sight from the boy you once knew. His hands were gentle, his voice firm and clear as he ran through several tests and asked your mother questions related to her health.

Minutes passed by as Zayne explained what was happening to you and your mother. He was direct, telling her she was ill but didn't crush the hopes of her making a recovery. He grabbed a piece of paper, and scribbled down a few words before handing them to you. He gave a few more reminders, making sure your mother took her medicines, not overwork herself , made sure she's rested well, and to return next week to get an update on her health.

You smiled, thanking Zayne before looking away, your eyes darted around as you tapped your feet. Zayne and your mother continued to talk, catching up with the years that passed.

“Ang laki laki mo na , ijo.” You're so big already, dear Your mother cooed, squishing his cheek with her wrinkled fingers, “Naalala ko noong una—” I remember when you were—

Zayne chuckled nervously , looking away as he places her hand far from his cheeks. “Alam ko po.” I know. He says softly, “Hindi mo na kailangan sabihin.” You don't need to say it.

Your mother scoffed playfully, which made you groan. The last thing you wanted to hear is an embarrassing story from your childhood or Zayne’s. She laughed, recalling how you'd always play together or how when Zayne was a little baby, he would always follow her or his own mother around like a little puppy.

You laughed, and imagined him just as your mother described in her story. Zayne stood there, and covered his reddening face with his white coat, and glanced elsewhere, hoping it’d end soon.

“Nay,” Ma... You said, and placed a hand on her shoulder. You glanced back at Zayne, saying that you had this under your control. “Sa susunod na naman tayo mag-usap kay Doktor Zayne, Nay. Baka may gagawin pa siya.” We can catch up with Zayne next time. Maybe he has other things to do.

“Bibisita ka ba sa amin ba, ijo?” Will you visit us, dear? She asked Zayne with hopeful eyes.

“Hindi pa ko maka-siguro po, Nay.” I'm not so sure either, auntie. He answered, “Pero kung may oras ako, bibisita ako. Sa parehas lugar kung saan kayo nakatira noong una po?” But if I have time, I'll try to visit. You still live at the same area like before?

Your mother nodded. “Aba, naalala mo pa, ijo? Kung hindi kayo sa bahay, diyan kayo palagi nina Caleb at Y/N. Palagi kayo naglalaro noong una. Naalala ko-” Oh, you still remember, dear? You, Caleb, and Y/N were always there. In fact, there was this one time when—

“At naalala ko na nag-aalala na si Tatay sa bahay.” And I remember that father must be worried. We should be on our way now. You chimed in softly and grabbed her hand as you thanked Zayne once more and left the office. Zayne smiled to himself, waving goodbye as the door closed and left him alone with his thoughts.

You were always at Zayne’s more often as your mother recovered from her illness.

It was a slow and gradual process, but you couldn't help but be proud as you watched her slowly feel better and get back on her feet.

Zayne visited more often. He brought his medical equipment in a bag and walked up to your door and like clockwork, you’d opened the door to greet him hello before bringing him to your mother.

Your mother’s eyes always lit up when she heard his footsteps and familiar voice. She loved him like he was her child, having raised him all those years ago.

“May kasintahan ka na ba, ijo?” Do you have a girlfriend? She asked one time, which caught him off-guard. He looked away for a moment, his face turned red as he shook his head.

“May babae bang nagpapatibok ng puso mo?” Is there any woman in particular? She asked next.

His ears turned red next.

“Parang wala pa po, Nay. Hindi ko rin alam kung–” No, auntie.

Your laughter cut him off. You shook your head in disbelief. This was Doctor Zayne, and you were sure that so many women had already swooned over his feet and had tried to melt away at his cold and aloof expression.

“Hay nako, Zayne. Ikaw pa? Walang kasintahan? At akala ko sa Maynila o sa Europa ka pa makakahanap ng babae na magmamahal sa iyo?” Really, out of all the people who don't have a girlfriend, must you be one of them, Zayne? I thought you'll find love at Manila, or maybe even Europe. You teased, and nudged at his side, “O bake plano mo maging isang matandang binata?” Or, are you planning to be a bachelor?

Zayne laughed, and turned his attention towards you.

“Hindi naman.” Not really. He said “May taong nagpapatibok ng puso ko pero…” I have a person in mind, but...

“Pero?” But?

“Pabayaan mo na.” Nevermind. He waved his hand dismissively. You pouted at his words, hit his shoulder, and stuck your tongue out in his direction. Zayne sighed at your petulant expression.

“Tumahimik ka nga?” Quiet. He said, “Nagtatrabaho ako.” I'm working.

Your heart skipped a small beat.

Was it the way he talked? The way his hands handled taking care of your mother?

Or was it because it was Zayne? Zayne, the childhood friend you grew up with throughout all those years, whose face and expression never changed, his voice still modulated and poised just like how you’d always remember it. You shake your head.

Now that kind of nonsense is something you don’t agree on, especially about you.

His checkup continued as he did an assessment of your mother’s current condition. Every answer she gave, he wrote down and documented properly. Before he left, he presented them with fruits in a basket and money he stuffed in his pockets.

“Alam ko na hindi ito magrabo pero sana po makatuklong diin sa iyo ito,” I know this isn't much, but I hope this will be able to help you. He offered.

“Ang sobra naman nito, Zayne. Hindi mo naman kailangan ito gawin .” This is too much, Zayne. You really didn't have to do this. You said, your face red and eyes widened from the action he had done. He pressed the basket of fruits closer to you.

“Tanggapin mo na.” I insist. Please take it. He insisted. After another back and forth between you both, you resigned your fate and took the basket into your arms. Zayne flashed a subtle smile before he packed his materials and left out of the door.

This continued on for weeks that turned into months–close to a year even as your mother’s recovery was a slow and gradual process. She moved more often and for longer without the need to catch her breath. She cleaned up around the house, much to your father’s complaints.

Whenever you visited Zayne in his clinic with your mother, you would bring a fresh basket of fruits and vegetables as a thank you to him. He would gladly accept it, and claimed that you and your mother were planning to stuff him with food. You both laughed and shook your heads at his words.

When Zayne visited the marketplace to find goods, he’d looked around, and saw the same things and products sold.

The only difference was the person selling. He looked around, and tried to spot you from amongst the crowd of voices. He bought vegetables he needed and bantered over prices.

Zayne explained the concepts of business to you and you’d shook your head and grumbled about how he doesn’t really know a thing about how to really sell stuff to individuals.

He followed every rule of the book and conduct of society, and yet, here you were, holding a basket of fresh produce from the garden your family has, your face kissed by the sun with your hair tied up, your smile graced your lips.

The same smile that slowly melted through his exteriors once more and will continue to do so until the very end.

The same smile that had caused his heart to skip a beat when he saw you again.

The same smile that got him through medical school, the only thing he imagined her to greet him with.

Sometimes, he wondered if he should’ve stayed behind as a child to see her smile even more, but he didn’t regret leaving for Manila to study medicine, he didn’t regret going to Europe to learn even more. At least, not completely.

The only thing he ever regretted about leaving home was that he didn’t bring her and her smile with him.

Now that he is back, he only hoped to see it even more.

You missed him.

That wasn’t a lie.

Of course you did, he was still your childhood friend and companion until he left to study. You spent your whole teenage years wondering when and if he’ll be back and if things will be the same when he returns–would he even remember who you were?

But when you saw his face, his bright eyes that seemed to shift colors when the sunlight hit in different angles, his large and strong hands held onto the basket of produce he bought from you, you realized that he hasn’t forgotten you, not one single bit at all.

Your mother noticed the way your face reddened at the mention of Zayne's name, your father noticed the small smile that graced your lips when you tried to hide your blushing face beneath your hand. Caleb teased you both relentlessly about it, nudging Zayne by the shoulder every time you three were together once more. It was as if you were kids once again, just much older than the ages you were before. Instead of playing together, you ran errands together, and they were your most frequent customers at the market. Your other friends had teased you too, nudging and making noises you’d glare at them for.

And the worst of all, you noticed the way Zayne acted around you.

It was a subtle change, but you noticed and took attention too. He was at your home more often, staying for dinner with your parents. He’d laughed at old stories your father recalled about you that you wished he’d kept quiet about. He looked at you more often, his head rested against his chin as he watched you go on and on about today, or yesterday, or any other day. And once dinner was done and everything slowed down, he hesitated to leave but always kissed your hand and said his goodbye. You kept a straight-face most of the time, but there was no denying of the red that graced your cheeks.

There was a time he talked to your parents. You were in the kitchen, washing the dishes as their hushed voices exchanged. There was a gut feeling that told you to listen in. Holding a wet plate in your hand, you pressed your ear closer to the wall, curious on what he’s about to say next.

“Magtatanong ako kung bibigayan niyo ba ako ng pahintulot para ligawan si Y/N.” I want to ask your permission and blessing to court Y/N. Zayne said, his voice muffled by the barrier separating the kitchen and living room.

There was a brief silence before he continued, “Hindi ako makakasabi na ako ay isang perpektong tao pero pinapangako ko na mamahalin ko siya ng buong puso.” I'm not perfect, but I promise to love her wholeheartedly.

“Ang anak ba namin ang dahilan bakit tumitibok ang puso mo, ijo?” Is our daughter the person you're in love with? Your mother asked.

Another brief silence passed before he nodded. “Opo, pero maliban po sa ganyan. Siya ang dahilan na bakit ako nabubuhay, kung bakit ako gumigising sa umaga at natutulog sa gabi. Sa totoo lang po, parang hindi ko na kayang itago ang aking nararamdaman sa kanya…” Yes, but she's more than that to me. She's the reason to everything I do and to be honest, if I hide how I truly feel for one more moment, my heart would explode.

Your heart froze in your chest before it skipped a beat. Your hand slipped, which caused the plate to fall down with a loud crash. You knelt over, and tried to gather the larger pieces, accidentally drawing blood. Your eyes widened in a panic as you scrambled up and got cleaning supplies to fix the mess your nosiness made.

As you cleaned up, a silhouette loomed over you, the hand touched your shoulder, peering beyond and saw your bloody hand and the broken shards.

“Ano ba nangyari rito?” What happened? Zayne’s voice broke through the thoughts inside your mind. “Patingin nga.” Let me see.

You showed your bloody hand to him. He inspected it, careful and precise to ensure that there would be no further injuries. He helped you sit down, before he went to find clean cloths and water.

“Wag kang gagalaw.” Don't move. He instructed. You nodded and tried your best to stay still. He began to clean the wound with water and soap before he left for a moment to get his first aid kit that he brought everywhere with him, especially during visiting patients. He cleaned your hand with antiseptic, his hands firm and kind. Perhaps this was why he was a well-sought out doctor. The way he treated and helped nursed his patients back to health, his firm and unwavering dedication didn’t stem from ethics alone, but was grounded in a genuine love and care for the people he spends his whole life serving and taking care of.

You winced, trying to take your hand away but he held on.

“Diba sinabi ko wag kang gagalaw?” Didn't I say not to move? He repeated himself. You nodded once more, and murmured an apology to him. He paused for a moment before continuing.

In the silence of the kitchen table, your mind raced.

Ligaw.

Courtship.

Zayne wanted to court you, he asked your parents permission for him to court you. If tradition never mattered, you would have stepped out from where you hid and given him permission yourself, but you kept quiet and listened on for now.

You wondered if he knew you were swooping, or was he keeping that information to himself?

What surprised you more was his reasoning behind the reason why he wanted to do it.

You were the reason why he survived Manila, why he survived Europe and other parts of Asia he travelled to study.

You were the reason why he continued on with medicine.

You were the reason why he returned back to the province he was born and raised in.

You were the comfort he was searched for. That warm and never ceasing comfort he has been longed for his whole life.

You were all of these things and more, and Zayne kept that inside his chest for so long that he felt his heart could explode if it was kept in for a moment longer.

“Ano bang nangyari?” What happened? He asked, wrapping your hand in gauze.

“Nalaglag ko ang plato hinahawakan ko.” The plate fell. I tried to pick it up. You admitted.

He hummed, and nodded his head at your answer. He made sure it was secure before letting go and reminded you to be more careful with the things you hold and your surroundings.

You said goodbyes, and watched him leave the house. Your hand lingered against the wood, and hoped Zayne would show up and reminded you one more time to take care of yourself before going, but that wouldn’t be happening tonight.

The next time you saw Zayne was months later.

You were busy taking care of your parents, and he was away for a while. You tried to ask the people who worked at his clinic, or Caleb, or your own parents about where he is and neither had a proper answer to your question.

You were worried, to say the least. Had he run away from his own feelings? Had he run away from you? No, that wouldn’t make sense for Zayne to do. You tried to think of other possible reasons to console your pacing mind. Perhaps he went to Manila to work, or perhaps visited his parents, maybe had other patients beyond their small town.

It was the middle of the night when you found yourself awake once more, your mind lingered on with the possible reasons why he hadn't shown up, and about what you had overheard from the talk with your parents months ago.

The windows were half-closed and allowed air inside that kept you cool and comfortable. You tossed and turned in bed but stopped when you heard a faint sound of a guitar strummed.

You paused and glanced at the window. Another strum and a cough. Slowly, you got up from the bed and approached the window, your hands lingered around, and thought about whether to open or keep it close.

That's when you heard singing.

That's when you heard Zayne singing.

His voice was crisp and clear, emotions poured out of his mouth as he sang alongside a guitar. There were snickers here and there, perhaps from his friends but nonetheless, he continued on.

You smiled to yourself, and allowed his voice to soothe your troubles and worries. It went on for several more minutes, but the idea remained: please open your window and let me catch a glimpse of your face.

As the last song finished, you opened the windows to your room and looked down, your hands covering your blushing face, still trying to act nonchalant.

Zayne was there, his hands outstretched with a smile on his face. When he saw your face, he lowered his hands and looked up. There was a hint of red plastered on his face too, making you crack an even bigger smile. His friends were there as well, supporting him in his endeavors to woo you over. Caleb nudges Zayne before saying something you didn’t hear. You went outside of your room, surprised to see your parents awake too.

“Oh? Papasukin mo ba sila?” WIll you let them in? Was all the confirmation you needed from your parents before opening the door to them. Zayne sighs in relief, he has passed the first test. He greeted your parents and you as they settled down for a while. You sat beside your parents, watching them prepare the next songs.

As Zayne sang throughout the night, he complimented various things about you. How you smiled, and carried yourself with grace , how your eyes shone under the sun and your hair formed a halo around you like an angel, how hard you worked for your family, and how you loved so tenderly and freely that it felt like a crime if he were to let go of such a chance of loving you.

He continued to sing alongside the guitar being played, the words seemingly flying out of his mouth as he said sweet words to you. You smiled throughout, unable to hide it any further as you lean in forward, eager to listen to him sing.

In a response to his efforts, you sang back to him. You came up with a response to his efforts, and mentioned the things you liked about him.

His handsome face, his steady and strong hands, his dedication to his work, the way he cared about others around him and prioritized their safety first and foremost.

You sang about accepting his love, and compared it to the home you lived in; stable and worth returning to time and time again.

His face turned a brighter shade of red as you continued on. He tried to bury his face, but his smile was so big that his hands couldn’t seem to hide it.

But just like you , he listened to every word said about him.

You sang a duet together, your voices mixed with the guitar’s melody. Singing a duet together means that you had accepted his effort into wooing you over.

In honesty, you have accepted it for a long time already.

You know that he loved you, in any way a man like he could. He loved you in his reminders, he loved you in his touch and longing stares, and most of all, he loved you since and had only taken the leap of faith to sing his feelings about you and you were there to catch him.

You sang a few more songs together before he finally wrapped it up with a goodbye song. He thanked your parents one more time before he and his friends left, closing the door behind them. The silence of memory and song filled the living room but you were shifting around, glancing at the door. You bounced your leg, tapping your fingers against your bouncing knee.

“Pupuntahan mo siya?” Will you go to him? Your mother asked, as if she read your mind. She knew you weren't the most traditional following girl especially when tradition was getting in the way of what you truly wanted. You glanced up before nodding.

“Puntahan mo na, ija. Sino ba ako para pigilan ka?” Go to him, my child. Who am I to stop you?

You hugged your mother and rushed out the door, but paused to get a shawl and change your slippers. As much as your mother allowed you to be more independent as you got older, cleanliness was a rule you followed.

You rushed outside, the cold wind blew through your thin shawl and clothes. The full moon brightened up the way before you as the lamps slowly got dimmer and farther away.

“Zayne!” You yelled out, causing him to stop in his tracks and ran back to you. He sets the lamp down on the ground and cupped your cheeks, making sure you weren’t hurt.

“Ano po iyon, magandang binibini?” What is the matter, miss? He asked, “Na-istrobo ko ba kayo? Pasensya na po, Binibini pero gusto ko lang makita yung iyong mga ngiti.” If I had disturbed you, I'm sorry. I just wanted to see your beautiful smile.

You huffed, and looked away for a moment. He chuckled, and tilted your face towards him. His eyes lingered on your lips, but kept his restraint. It was far too early or quick for him to do that. He was supposed to take his time when he courted you and you in turn, wouldn’t give in so easily.

“At ngayon, nakita ko na ang pinakamagandang ngiti sa balat ng lupa.” And now, I've seen the most beautiful smile in the land. He smiled, his fingers lingered on your lips, “Kaya makakatulong ako ngayong gabi ng mabuti.” I will be able to sleep well tonight.

“Pero kung ikaw makakatulong ng mabuti ngayong gabi, paano naman ba ako?” But if you will be able to sleep well tonight, how about me? You asked, your eyes glancing at his face. You cupped his cheeks in turn and pulled him close to you, making him hunched down.

“Pwede ba kitang halikan?” May I kiss you? You whispered.

“Pwede.” Yes. He answered.

You leaned in and held his cheeks against yours as your lips met together. A soft yet bright flame burned through you both. You closed your eyes, your hands wrapped around his neck as you stood on your toes. You pulled away and took a deep breath, your face turning even redder than ever. Zayne smiled, tracing your lips with his finger before kissing you once more.

Once the act was done, you both stood there , wrapped in each other’s arms. The comfortable silence filled the quiet night as the moon and stars served as witnesses to a love that took years, decades, in the making. You took your hands away from him, a reminder to him to head home safely. He picked up his lamp, waved goodbye and began to walk away while you returned to the steps of your home.

Your love continued to blossom and developed, increasing in passion and devotion as time continued.

You and Zayne exchanged love letters, all of which you kept in a box hidden beneath your clothes.

There were times you’d find him outside your window, and courted you with sweet songs you’d reply to.

You would bring fresh produce to Zayne, and made sure he had a sufficient supply and in turn, Zayne used them up, creating simple and warm meals for his patients and himself.

He would buy his produce from you alone, carrying them in his arms with pride and satisfaction, knowing he had gotten it from the woman he loved and who loved him back.

As time continued to pass, he brought you around him, keeping you close as he was invited to event after event. He held your hand and proudly introduced you as the woman he loved, causing the others to stare in disbelief, awe, or envy, but neither of it truly mattered to him.

You were with him and that was more than enough for the both of you. In the midst of dancing crowds and conversations, you both slipped away to spend time together and danced to the beat of your rhythms rather than to an instrument.

You became a more frequent face in the clinic he worked at, your presence brought relief to Zayne especially.

When he went to far-fetched communities to provide them with the healthcare they needed and deserved, you were with him.

You watched Zayne worked and cared for patients from various walks of life, age, and class, treating them all as individuals needing help. You watched him explain diagnosis to patients and possible treatment plans. You helped him clean around, making sure that the place was spotless and disinfected from any contaminants.

As the day comes to a close, you changed the sign to closed, indicating that clinic hours were done. You accompanied Zayne to visit his patients checked on their current statuses.

When you both arrived back at Zayne’s , you found yourselves standing in front of the same place you both stood on years ago when he left for Manila for the first time.

Gone were the days that you were carefree children, gone were the days you played and read together, and most of all, gone were the days you admired Zayne from afar because he is in your arms. You grabbed something from your pocket, revealing a small cloth. You began to unwrap it, revealing to Zayne an old flower, its colors pressed away and its petals fragile.

“Naalala mo ba ito?” Do you remember this? You asked, “Yung sampanguita binigay mo sa aking pag-alis mo papuntang Manila noon?” The Jasmine flower you gave me before you left for Manila?

Zayne smiled, and stepped closer to inspect the old and dried flower. He nodded, “Oo, naalala ko.” I remember . He answered, “At pareho sa bulaklak na ito, aalagaan at ilalagay kita sa puso ko.” And like this flower, I will keep you in my heart.

As the years passed, both your family and his had met and had given approval should you and Zayne finally decide to settle down. There wasn’t a date as to when or where, but that's alright for the both of you. You were still enjoying your time as a couple before settling down for good.

You were both sleeping on a duyan (hammock), the wind swinging you and Zayne gently. You rested on his chest, and heard the sound of his heart beating. A steady rhythm brought you comfort as you rested from the afternoon sun.

In your dreams, you and Zayne finally settled down.

You called each other wife and husband, which turned into nanay at tatay (mother and father) when the dream children joined the picture. You’d like to imagine there are two of them, one boy and one girl that you and he would love endlessly. Perhaps both would act and look like him and you would smile and remark how they acted similar to him.

Yes, that sounds nice.

You continued to dream about the lives you would have one day, and saw glimpses of your modified routine, the children’s smiles and their laughs, and the love you shared with them came from the love you and Zayne have and will continue to have.

“Gising ka na ba?” Are you up? Zayne’s voice broke through the dreams and pulled you back to reality. You glanced up at him, his hair messy and his glasses perched on his nose. “Ano ba panaginip mo?” What did you dream about?

“Tayo.” Us.

“Tayo?” Us?

You nodded.

He smiled and shook his head, before he placed a kiss on your forehead, “Parang hindi ko na kailangan managinip iyan…” I feel like, I don't need to dream about that.

You looked up at him. “Bakit naman?” Why so?

He kissed the crown of your head. “Dahil, nagging totoo na siya, sinta ko.” Because, it came true, my love.

a/n: thank you so much for reading this fic and for your love and support. i finally finished it!

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