The air in Italy felt different.
Maybe it was the altitude.
Or maybe it was the way my family sat in the bleachers, like they were auditing a million-dollar transaction.
My father’s arms were crossed, his eyes unreadable.
My mother kept twisting her Hermès scarf with perfectly timed grace, but i knew the rhythm.
One twist for every drop of pressure i wasn’t allowed to show.
Hindi puwedeng magkamali.
Hindi puwedeng madapa.
Hindi puwedeng maging tao.
Because i wasn’t here as a rider.
I was here as an Zobel.
I stood beside Santiago, my horse, my partner, the only thing that didn’t demand anything from me. He was still. Controlled.
Just like i was taught to be.
“Five minutes,” Luis said quietly.
He’d trained me since i was a child.
He could sense something was off.
Wala sa rhythm ang utak ko. Nandito ako, pero hindi rin. Parang hindi ko na alam kung saan natatapos ang gusto ko at nagsisimula ang gusto nila.
I looked down at my boots.
Polished to perfection.
Just like everything else.
Pero bakit pakiramdam ko, sirang-sira ako sa loob?
I heard my mother’s voice from across the arena, speaking with a sponsor.
“She’s never lost a final round,” she said with a smile. “Aurora is… consistent.”
Consistent. Predictable. Presentable. Never human.
“Ready?” Calix’s voice broke through the haze.
I turned to him.
He looked calm, unfazed by the storm brewing inside me.
Dressed in a suit, hands in his pockets, like this wasn’t the most important ten minutes of my life.
“I’m not,” I said. “But i’ll pretend.”
He stepped closer and gently fixed the strap of my helmet. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“What if i lose?” I asked, trying to smile.
“Then i’ll still choose to be right here, watching you.”
The whistle blew.
Santiago surged forward like thunder on hooves. We were fluid. We were trained for this. But i wasn’t present.
Not really.
May mali.
Late ako mag-command.
Nadulas ‘yung timing ko.
Half a second. Sa iba maliit. Sa sport na ‘to, kapalit na ‘yan ng podium.
The crowd roared.
I couldn’t tell if they were cheering or holding their breath.
On the final hurdle, Santiago clipped the bar.
He landed. But it wasn’t clean.
The bar fell.
So did my ranking.
Third place.
I didn’t finish the ceremony.
I just stood there.
Frozen.
A stranger to the celebration.
A stranger to myself.
My boots echoed as i walked through the holding area, each step louder than the last.
Mom and Dad were already there.
Of course they were.
“Third,” my dad said. No emotion. Just disappointment, thinly veiled by silence.
“You said you trained for this,” Mom added.
“I… I lost rhythm.”
“You’ve been off since you returned to Manila,” Dad muttered. “This isn’t the Aurora i raised.”
Hindi nga ako ‘yung Aurora na gusto n’yong gawin. Ako ‘yung Aurora na pagod. Na hindi na sure kung siya pa ba talaga ‘to o produkto na lang ng mga expectations n’yo.
Before i could say anything, Calix stepped forward.
“She did her best,” he said. “She doesn’t owe anyone perfection.”
My mother narrowed her eyes at him. “We weren’t talking to you.”
“I know,” he said calmly. “But i’m her husband. And someone has to stand by her.”
They didn’t respond.
And i didn’t either.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t even breathe.
-
I sat by the window, looking out at the golden shimmer of Florence. But i felt nothing.
Not relief. Not pride. Not shame.
Just… nothing.
Calix sat beside me.
Hot chocolate in hand.
“Dinner?”
I shook my head.
“I’ll stay here anyway.”
He placed the mug gently on the table and leaned back. No pressure. No speeches.
Eventually, I leaned my head on his shoulder.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t ask.
He just stayed.
“I didn’t mean to fail them,” I whispered.
“You didn’t.”
“I wanted them to be proud.”
“I’m proud of you.”
I turned to him.
And for the first time in years, someone saw me not as a performance—
But as a person.
“You’re not a disappointment, Aurora.”
And then he kissed me.
Not rushed. Not demanding.
Just… real.
Our lips met softly.
And when he pulled away, his forehead rested against mine.
“We’ll get through this. You’re not alone anymore.”
-
I woke up screaming.
Sweating.
Shaking.
The room was spinning.
Calix sat up, alarmed. “Aurora?”
I couldn’t speak.
My breath caught in my throat.
Flames.
Smoke.
Screaming.
I was ten.
Running through a burning hallway.
“Paul!” I screamed in the memory.
He grabbed my arm, pulled me through the smoke.
“Go! Run!”
But i didn’t run.
Because behind him—I saw Lucien.
Standing by the staircase.
Smiling.
A lighter in his hand.
The flames crawled up the walls like claws.
I heard Paul shout my name again.
Then—
Darkness.
I woke up in Calix’s arms.
Tears dried on my cheeks.
“Nightmare?” he asked gently.
I nodded. But i didn’t explain.
Paano mo ie-explain ang trauma na hindi mo puwedeng banggitin? Paano mo ikukuwento ang panaginip na alam mong nangyari?
I didn’t say it out loud.
But i remembered every detail.
Before we left the hotel for the airport, I stepped outside to breathe.
And then i saw him.
Lucien.
Leaning against a post across the street. Wearing a beige coat. Holding a cup of coffee.
Smiling.
Like the years never happened.
Like he didn’t trained me in Philippines.
He walked toward me slowly.
“I heard your parents weren’t impressed. I trained you and did your best,” he said casually. “Same old Zobel.”
I didn’t reply.
He took another sip. “You know, it’s funny.”
I stared at him.
“What is?”
He tilted his head.
“Do you want to know…” he said softly, “what really happened sixteen years ago? I know you know who am i”
I blinked.
Then—
“Do you want to know,” he continued, his voice sharper now, “if Paul is still alive?”
My heart stopped.