Chapter Text
"Again."
Colet stared at the director through the glare of the studio lights.
For a moment, she wondered if she had heard correctly. Her eyes were already swollen from crying, her cheeks were streaked with tears, and her throat hurt from delivering the same lines over and over again. Even the tissue in her hand had become useless, its edges damp from wiping her face.
Across the set, Gwen leaned back in her chair, one hand resting beneath her chin as she studied the monitor.
"Again, Colet."
"Direk, pang-walong take na natin," Colet pointed out, her voice strained. "Ano pa bang kulang?"
A few crew members suddenly became very interested in their equipment.
Gwen lifted her gaze from the screen. "Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, or do you want me to tell you what you need to hear?"
Colet let out a humorless laugh. "Pwede bang both?"
"No."
"Ang saya naman."
"Colet."
"Okay, fine." She sat up straighter, pushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. "Tell me."
Gwen removed her headphones and placed them on the table.
"You're technically good. Your timing is right, your expressions are right, and you know exactly when to cry. Kung acting workshop lang ang pinapanood ko, I'd give you a perfect score."
"Thank you," Colet replied, already sensing the but coming.
"But I don't believe you."
There it was.
Colet's jaw tightened.
Gwen continued, her voice calm enough to make the criticism sting even more. "I don't believe that you're a daughter who's spent eighteen years waiting for her father to come home. I don't believe that you hate him and love him at the same time. I see you performing heartbreak, Colet. I don't see you experiencing it."
"She's a fictional character, Direk. Of course I'm performing."
"Don't be smart."
"I'm not being smart. I'm asking you what you want from me."
"I want you to stop showing me that you can act and start showing me that you understand what you're acting about."
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Behind Gwen, the crew moved around the set with practiced efficiency. Someone adjusted the camera. A production assistant whispered something to the lighting director. The air conditioner hummed above them, doing very little to fight the heat trapped beneath the studio lights.
Colet looked down at the script in her lap.
She had highlighted her lines, written notes in the margins, and watched interviews with people who had experienced family abandonment. She had even spent an entire night reading about the psychological effects of growing up with an absent parent.
She had done everything she knew how to do.
Apparently, none of it was enough.
"Maybe the problem is that you want me to feel something that's not there," she said quietly.
Gwen's expression shifted.
"Maybe," the director answered. "Or maybe you're so afraid of getting it wrong that you're not allowing yourself to feel anything at all."
Colet looked up sharply.
"Cut," Gwen called, turning toward the assistant director. "Let's take twenty. We'll resume after lunch."
As the crew began preparing for the next setup, Colet stood and handed her script to a waiting production assistant.
"Thank you, Direk," she said, forcing a polite smile. "I'll try again."
"I know you will."
That was the problem.
Gwen always knew she would try again. Colet was beginning to wonder whether trying harder was exactly what kept her from getting it right.
She walked off the set before the director could say anything else.
Colet had barely reached her dressing room when her phone began vibrating.
MALOI CALLING.
She answered immediately.
"Kung tatawagan mo ako para sabihing kailangan kong maging grateful, huwag na lang."
"Wow. Good afternoon din sa'yo," Maloi replied.
Colet pushed open the dressing-room door with her shoulder and dropped into the nearest chair. "Ano bang kailangan mo?"
"To check kung kumain ka na. Tsaka nag-message si Gwen sa akin."
Napapikit si Colet. "Of course, she did."
"Anong nangyari? Nag-away na naman kayo?"
"Hindi kami nag-away."
"Ah, so nagpalitan lang kayo ng masasakit na salita with matching audience?"
"Maloi."
"Okay, sorry. Go on."
Colet reached for a clean tissue and wiped the remaining makeup from beneath her eyes. "She said she doesn't believe me."
There was a short silence on the other end.
Then Maloi asked, "Well, do you blame her?"
Colet pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm just asking."
"Manager kita. Dapat kampi ka sa akin."
"Kampi nga ako sa'yo, kaya nga hindi kita kinukunsinti."
"Grabe. Wala ka talagang awa."
"May awa ako. Kaya nga tinatanong kita kung kumain ka na."
Colet groaned and leaned back in her chair.
Maloi had been her manager for four years, long before Colet's face started appearing on billboards and entertainment magazines. She had been there during Colet's first commercial shoot, when she was paid barely enough to cover transportation and food. She had celebrated every small victory and talked Colet through every rejection.
Unfortunately, Maloi had also become very good at recognizing when Colet was about to lose an argument.
"Listen," Maloi said, her teasing tone fading. "I know you're frustrated. Pero hindi naman sinabi ni Gwen na wala kang talent. She's asking you to do something different."
"I know that."
"Do you?"
"Yes, Maloi. Diyos ko, huwag mo na akong sabayan."
"Fine. Come to the office after lunch. We need to talk."
Colet frowned. "About what?"
"Your career."
"Can we please talk about literally anything else?"
"Sure. We can talk about your three pending endorsements, your upcoming press conference, and the fact that you have a major drama series coming up with a director who thinks you're emotionally constipated."
Colet covered her face with one hand.
"Ang galing. Parang gumaan talaga ang pakiramdam ko."
"You're welcome."
"Can I just resign?"
"From acting?"
"From life."
"Rejected. You have a contract."
Despite herself, Colet laughed.
It was brief, but genuine enough that Maloi caught it.
"There," her manager said. "At least may emosyon ka pa pala."
"Shut up."
"Kumain ka muna. Then come to the office. And, Colet?"
"What?"
"Please don't fight with Gwen again."
Colet glanced at herself in the mirror. Her mascara had smudged beneath her eyes, her hair was falling out of its carefully arranged style, and she looked exhausted.
"I'll try."
"That's what worries me."
Maloi ended the call before Colet could throw another insult at her.
Colet stared at her phone for a moment, then tossed it onto the vanity.
She had wanted to be an actress since she was young. Not because she wanted to be famous, exactly, but because she loved the idea of becoming someone else for a little while. She loved stories, the strange intimacy of pretending to be a person whose life was nothing like her own.
But somewhere along the way, acting had stopped being something she loved and become something she had to prove she deserved.
Every audition had to lead somewhere. Every performance had to be better than the last. Every opportunity had to justify the years she had spent trying to make it.
Now she was finally getting the opportunities she had dreamed about, and she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was going to discover she didn't belong there.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time, it was a message from her publicist.
Colet, reminder lang about your interview next week. The network wants to talk about your preparation for Mga Bagay na Hindi Natin Nasabi. Please send your available schedule.
Colet read it, then locked her phone without replying.
She needed a break.
Not a massage, not a weekend in a luxury resort, and definitely not another inspirational speech about believing in herself.
She needed to go somewhere nobody expected anything from her.
She just didn't know where that place was.
Maloi's office was on the eighth floor of a building in Quezon City, a short drive from the studio. By the time Colet arrived, the afternoon sun was reflecting off the glass windows, and the streets below were packed with cars that seemed to be going nowhere.
She entered the office wearing sunglasses, a loose shirt, and the expression of someone who had personally been wronged by the entire entertainment industry.
Maloi looked up from her laptop.
"Ang pangit ng aura mo."
Colet removed her sunglasses. "Hello to you, too."
"May kinagat ka ba?"
"Ikaw lang ang gusto kong kagatin ngayon."
"Good. At least may energy ka pa."
Maloi gestured toward the chair opposite her desk. Colet sat down and placed her bag on the floor, then noticed the thick script lying beside the laptop.
Mga Bagay na Hindi Natin Nasabi.
She looked at it and sighed.
"Alam ko na kung ano ang sasabihin mo," Colet announced. "Big project. Important role. Career-changing opportunity. I need to take it seriously."
Maloi folded her arms. "Well, at least you're listening."
"I've been taking it seriously since the day I auditioned."
"I know."
"I've been studying every night. I've watched films, read books, talked to people, and done everything Gwen asked me to do."
"I know, Colet."
"Then why does it feel like I'm still not enough?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Maloi's expression softened. She closed her laptop and gave Colet her full attention.
"Because maybe you're measuring yourself by whether everyone else is satisfied with you," she said. "And that's a very exhausting way to live."
Colet looked away, her fingers tracing the edge of her bag.
"I just don't want to waste this opportunity."
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
"You're right. I don't know everything." Maloi paused. "But I know you. And I know that when you're scared, you work harder. When you're uncertain, you prepare more. When you don't know what to do, you convince yourself that if you just keep trying, eventually you'll figure it out."
Colet glanced at her.
Maloi leaned forward.
"But what if the answer isn't to work harder this time?"
Colet frowned. "What are you suggesting?"
"That you take a break."
Colet blinked. "A break?"
"Yes."
"From work?"
"No, Colet. From breathing. Of course, from work."
"Funny."
"I try."
Colet waited for her to explain.
Maloi reached into a folder and pulled out a printed page. She slid it across the desk.
Colet looked down.
BARANGAY MAPAGMAHAL.
Beneath the name was an address, a contact number, and a photograph of a modest guesthouse surrounded by trees.
"What is this?" Colet asked.
"A place where you can stay for two weeks."
"Where is it?"
"Sa probinsya. It's a quiet barangay near the coast. A friend of my aunt knows the family who owns the guesthouse."
Colet studied the photograph. It showed a simple two-story house with a small veranda, potted plants, and a wooden gate. Beyond it, the tops of coconut trees rose against a bright blue sky.
It looked nothing like Manila.
"Why would I go there?"
"Because nobody knows you there."
Colet looked up.
Maloi continued, "No fans asking for pictures. No journalists asking about your love life. No producers reminding you about your next project. You can walk around without worrying about being recognized."
"And what am I supposed to do? Sit under a tree and wait for inspiration?"
"If that's what works."
"Maloi."
"Colet."
She sighed. "Be serious."
"I am serious." Maloi tapped the paper. "You need to experience life outside the industry for a while. Talk to people. Make friends. Go to places where nobody cares whether you're a good actress."
Colet glanced down at the address again.
"That sounds suspiciously like method acting."
"Call it whatever you want. Your director wants you to understand emotions instead of just performing them, right?"
"That's what she said."
"Then go live a little."
Colet let out a small laugh. "You make it sound so easy."
"I'm not saying it'll be easy. I'm saying you need it."
Outside the window, a bus crawled through the traffic below. A delivery rider squeezed between two cars, and a pedestrian hurried across the street before the light changed.
Manila was loud, crowded, and familiar. It was where Colet had spent years chasing opportunities, where she had learned to survive rejection, and where she had finally begun to see the results of all her hard work.
She had no reason to hate the city.
But lately, it felt as though she couldn't breathe in it.
"How long?" she asked.
"Two weeks."
"That's too long."
"Then think of it as a very long weekend."
"I have work."
"I'll handle your schedule. Gwen has agreed to give you a few days away before rehearsals intensify. Your endorsements can wait, and I've already informed your publicist that you're taking a short personal break."
Colet stared at her. "You arranged all of this before asking me?"
"Of course. Kung nagtanong ako, ang dami mo pang dahilan."
"Because I have responsibilities!"
"And because you overthink everything."
Colet opened her mouth, then closed it.
Maloi smiled.
"See? I'm right."
"You're so annoying."
"Yet here you are, listening to me."
Colet picked up the paper and examined the address again. She tried to imagine herself in that little guesthouse, waking up without an alarm, buying breakfast from a local eatery, and spending an entire day without having to think about camera angles or dialogue delivery.
The thought made her nervous.
It also made her feel something she hadn't felt in a long time.
Curiosity.
"What if someone recognizes me?" she asked.
"Then tell them your name is Cole."
Colet stared at her.
"Cole?"
"Short for Colet. Easy to remember, easy to explain."
"That's the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard."
"And yet you haven't come up with a better one."
"Fine. I'll go by Anonymous."
"Very convincing. I'm sure nobody will suspect a thing."
Colet laughed, shaking her head.
Maloi stood and walked around the desk. She rested a hand on Colet's shoulder, her expression turning serious once more.
"I'm not asking you to give up anything," she said. "I'm asking you to remember that there's a world outside all of this. You don't have to be Colet the actress every second of your life."
Colet swallowed.
For years, she had worked toward becoming someone people would recognize. Now, the thought of being unrecognized sounded almost like freedom.
"Two weeks," she said.
Maloi nodded. "Two weeks."
"And you handle everything here."
"Yes."
"If something goes wrong, you call me."
"Obviously."
"And if I decide I hate it there, I'm coming home."
"Then come home."
Colet slipped the paper into her bag and stood.
"Fine. I'll go."
Maloi grinned. "Great. Your bus leaves tomorrow morning."
Colet stopped halfway to the door.
"Tomorrow?"
"Did you think I was going to let you change your mind?"
"Maloi!"
"Pack light!"
Colet pointed at her manager. "I hate you."
"No, you don't. Text me when you arrive!"
The office door shut behind Colet, cutting off Maloi's laughter.
For a moment, Colet stood in the hallway, staring at the paper in her hand.
Barangay Mapagmahal.
She had never heard of the place before that afternoon.
By tomorrow, it would be the only place she needed to know.
That evening, Colet stood in the middle of her bedroom, staring at an open suitcase.
Packing for two weeks should not have been difficult. She had enough clothes to last a month without repeating an outfit, and she could probably fill the suitcase in fifteen minutes if she stopped thinking about it.
Instead, she had spent nearly half an hour deciding whether she needed three pairs of jeans.
She eventually settled on comfortable clothes, sandals, a few books, and a notebook she had bought months ago but never used. She left her jewelry in its usual place and tucked an old cap into the side pocket of her bag.
Her phone kept lighting up on the bed.
Messages from her publicist. A reminder about a fitting. A group chat full of photographs from the production crew. A message from Gwen that she had been too nervous to open until now.
Take the time you need, Colet. But when you come back, I want you to stop trying to show me how well you can act and start showing me what you actually feel.
Colet read the message twice.
She wanted to be angry.
Instead, she sat on the edge of her bed and looked around her apartment.
The framed magazine covers on the wall. The awards on the shelf. The neatly arranged clothes. The scripts stacked on her desk.
Everything was a reminder of how far she had come.
Everything was also a reminder of how much she still had to prove.
She picked up the unused notebook and flipped through its empty pages. She had bought it with the intention of keeping a journal, thinking it might help her understand the characters she played. After writing down a few observations about her latest role, she had abandoned it.
Now she opened to the first page and picked up a pen.
October 20.
I'm going somewhere nobody knows me.
She paused, then added another sentence.
I don't know if that's supposed to be exciting or terrifying.
She stared at the words before closing the notebook.
Her phone rang.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Have you packed?" Maloi asked.
"Yes."
"How many suitcases?"
"One."
"Good. I was worried you'd bring your entire closet."
"Don't tempt me."
Maloi laughed. "Your bus ticket is in your email. The driver will take you to the terminal tomorrow morning, but from there, you're on your own."
"I know how to ride a bus, Maloi."
"I know. I'm just making sure."
Colet leaned back against the headboard. "What if I get bored?"
"Read a book."
"What if I don't like the food?"
"Then don't eat."
"What if there's no Wi-Fi?"
"Then perhaps you'll finally discover the wonders of human interaction."
"You're enjoying this way too much."
"Maybe a little."
Colet smiled, looking toward the window. The city lights had begun to flicker across the buildings, and the familiar sounds of traffic drifted through the glass.
"Maloi?"
"Hmm?"
"What if I come back and nothing changes?"
Her manager didn't answer immediately.
"Then at least you'll know you tried something different," she said. "And maybe you'll discover that the things you need to change aren't the things you've been worrying about."
Colet was quiet.
"Get some sleep," Maloi added. "You have a long trip tomorrow."
"Good night."
"Good night, Cole."
Colet pulled the phone away from her ear.
"Don't call me that."
"Start practicing! Bye!"
The call ended.
Colet shook her head and set the phone aside. She switched off the bedside lamp, leaving the room illuminated only by the city lights slipping through the curtains.
Tomorrow, she would leave Manila behind.
For two weeks, she would be just Cole. No famous last name, no upcoming series, no expectations to meet. She could be ordinary, make mistakes, and perhaps even fail at something without a hundred people watching.
She had spent years learning how to become someone else.
Maybe it was time to find out who she was when nobody was looking.
The following morning, Colet left before sunrise.
The driver dropped her off at the bus terminal shortly after six. She wore faded jeans, a loose white shirt, and the old cap she had packed the night before. Her hair was tied into a low ponytail, and she wore no makeup.
She looked like any other young woman preparing for a trip.
That was the point.
The terminal was already crowded. Vendors called out their prices, passengers dragged suitcases between rows of plastic chairs, and a little boy complained loudly that he didn't want to eat the pandesal his mother had bought him.
"Anak, kainin mo na 'yan," the mother pleaded. "Mamaya ka na magreklamo."
"Ayoko nga!"
"Eh, di huwag. Pero huwag kang magutom sa biyahe."
Colet smiled to herself as she passed them.
It was such an ordinary exchange, the kind she would never have noticed if she hadn't spent the last few months surrounded by people who measured every word and gesture for the cameras.
She bought a bottle of water and a packet of biscuits before finding her seat by the window. After putting her bags away, she took out her phone and sent Maloi a message.
On the bus. Buhay pa ako.
Maloi replied almost immediately.
Good. Stay that way. Text me when you arrive.
Colet put her phone on silent.
A few minutes later, the bus began to move.
She watched Manila slowly disappear behind a blur of buildings, billboards, and morning traffic. The tall structures gave way to smaller houses, then open roads lined with trees and roadside stalls. As the city faded into the distance, the tightness in her chest began to loosen.
She didn't know what awaited her in Barangay Mapagmahal.
Perhaps it would be boring. Perhaps she would spend two weeks regretting her decision, counting the days until she could return to work. Perhaps Gwen would still think her performance was false, and all of this would turn out to be an elaborate waste of time.
For now, she was willing to try.
She rested her head against the window and closed her eyes.
A few hours away, in a quiet barangay where the morning air smelled of salt and freshly brewed coffee, Jhoanna was unlocking the doors of her grandmother's old bookstore café.
She pushed the wooden shutters open one by one, letting sunlight spill across the shelves. Dust floated in the golden light, and the familiar scent of old paper mingled with the aroma of coffee beans from the little counter near the window.
"Good morning, Lola," she murmured out of habit as she straightened a framed photograph beside the register.
The photograph showed an elderly woman with kind eyes and a smile that seemed to brighten the entire room. Jhoanna brushed a little dust from the frame with her sleeve.
"Okay naman kami rito," she told the photograph. "Medyo makulit lang 'yung coffee machine mo. Mamaya ko na siya aawayin."
As if on cue, the machine made a strange clicking sound.
Jhoanna narrowed her eyes at it.
"Huwag mo akong subukan. Maaga pa."
She switched it on again, then went outside to place the day's handwritten menu on the door.
The barangay was beginning to wake. A tricycle rattled past the shop, carrying two schoolchildren and an elderly woman with a basket of vegetables. Across the road, Tita Nena was arranging bottles of soft drinks outside her sari-sari store. Somewhere nearby, a radio played an old OPM song.
"Jho!" Tita Nena called when she spotted her. "May pandesal ka na ba diyan?"
"Good morning din po, Tita!"
"Good morning, good morning. May pandesal ka?"
"Meron po mamaya. Kukuha pa ako sa bakery."
"Ah, sige. Pabili ako. Sampu."
"Sampu? Tita, dalawa lang naman kayo sa bahay!"
"Eh, paano kung magutom kami?"
Jhoanna laughed. "Sige na nga. Sampu."
"At saka, may bago ka raw na libro?"
"Marami po."
"May romance?"
"Marami rin po."
Tita Nena leaned closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to share a secret of national importance.
"May happy ending?"
Jhoanna shook her head, laughing. "Depende po sa author."
"Ay, huwag na lang. Ang dami nang problema sa totoong buhay, pati ba naman sa libro iiyak pa ako?"
"Pero masarap po umiyak minsan, Tita."
"Ikaw na lang umiyak. Basta dalhan mo ako ng pandesal."
Jhoanna returned to the café still smiling.
It was an ordinary morning. She had coffee to brew, shelves to arrange, and a list of errands to finish before lunch. Later, she would check the books that needed new covers and make sure the small table near the window didn't wobble again.
There were bills to pay, customers to serve, and a dream she had quietly set aside because someone had to take care of the place her grandmother had left behind.
She didn't know that a stranger was already on her way to Mapagmahal.
She didn't know that the stranger would arrive with a suitcase, a borrowed name, and a heart so accustomed to performing that she no longer knew what to do with the truth.
And she certainly didn't know that, one day, the café she had opened that morning would become the place Colet remembered whenever the world grew too loud.
For now, Jhoanna unlocked the front door and turned the sign to OPEN.
Then she stepped behind the counter, tied her apron around her waist, and greeted the first customer of the day.
"Good morning! Ano pong sa inyo?"
Outside, the sun climbed over the quiet streets of Barangay Mapagmahal.
And somewhere on the road, Cole was getting closer.