Chapter 2: Stolen Stares
Clark International Airport, Philippines.
ATTY. MIGUEL
The seatbelt sign blinked off, but I remained seated, staring at the dimly lit cabin. The hum of the plane had been my only companion for the past few hours — a steady, unchanging sound. Now, silence pressed against my ears, heavier than I remembered.
Home.
A word that once felt warm now sat foreign on my tongue. I wasn’t sure if I still belonged here.
Outside the window, the city lights sprawled beneath the dark sky — familiar, yet distant. I let out a slow breath, my fingers tapping absently against the armrest.
15 years.
I should be used to this by now, the feeling of stepping into old places with new versions of myself. But somehow, this return felt different. Heavier.
I straightened my suit jacket, schooling my expression back into something unreadable before speaking.
“Andrew, are there press waiting outside when I step out?”
I kept my voice composed, but the weight of exhaustion clung to every word. The jet lag hadn’t worn off, and yet I could already feel the familiar tension creeping in — one that always accompanied public appearances.
“Sir, ayon po sa mga nakausap kong securities, marami pong naghihintay na press outside.”
Andrew’s voice was steady, though the faint flicker of concern in his eyes didn’t escape me.
I closed my eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. Fifteen years. Fifteen years since I last set foot on this soil — my home. I’d thought maybe, just maybe, I could slip in unnoticed. How foolish of me to forget that the warmth of this country always came with watchful eyes.
“Prepare for the exit.”
My shoes clicked softly against the floor as we walked through the corridor. The moment we stepped out of immigration, the flash of cameras greeted us — blinding and relentless. Voices overlapped, calling out my name, showering me with praises.
“Sir! Ang galing niyo po na abogado, mga anak ko nag aaral ng law dahil sayo!”
“Welcome home, Atty. Dela Torre!”
I forced a smile — polished, practiced. I had long mastered the art of composure under the spotlight. Still, there was something different about hearing those words here. Somehow… it felt warmer.
It’s different.
“Allow them,” I murmured to Andrew. “Let them take their pictures.”
For years, this was the life I had built — headlines, interviews, power. Yet no amount of wealth could ever numb the ache of what I left behind.
The cameras clicked, flashes catching the faintest crack in my façade.
It didn’t matter. They would never know.
Inside the car, the world outside blurred past the tinted windows. Clark’s familiar streets unfolded like distant memories — fragments of a life I once belonged to.
“Kuya Lawrence, diretso po tayo sa Kalinaw Coffee. Malayo pero kaya yan, hahaha.”
The corners of the elderly driver’s lips curved into a smile.
“Welcome home, Atty. Miguel! Namiss kita.”
A flicker of warmth bloomed in my chest at the sound of my name. He was one of the few who had known me before the empire.
“It’s been 15 years, ano? Naalala ko palagi kang nagkukwento sa akin ng mga kung ano-ano para lang hindi ako antukin.”
“Opo, sir. Kada balik niyo, palagi po may nag iiba sa inyo, para bang nag uupgrade kayo ganun.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “Hehe, salamat po Kuya.”
His chuckle filled the car, light and familiar.
“Gusto mo orderan kita ng kape? Bawal tumanggi, alam kong mahilig ka sa kape, kuya Lawrence.”
His weathered face lit up. “Haha, wala naman na po akong magagawa at kayo na nagsabi na bawal tumanggi kaya salamat po, sir.”
Kalinaw Coffee Co.
The café was smaller than I expected — intimate, almost hidden. The scent of freshly ground coffee greeted me the moment I stepped inside. Warm. Inviting. A stark contrast to the stiff luxury I was accustomed to abroad.
“Good morning, Atty. Miguel! Welcome po!”
Two baristas stood by the door, offering polite smiles. My eyes flicked to their name tags — Leo and Khyle.
Andrew led me to a table by the window, the morning sun casting faint streaks of gold across the wooden floors. I glanced around — no pretentious interiors, no extravagant displays. Just shelves lined with books, quiet conversations, and the comforting hum of machines.
Something about this place… it felt like home.
Leo approached with a bright smile.
“A pleasant morning, Atty! May I take your orders po?”
“I want your best selling coffee here,” I answered, folding my hands on the table.
Leo’s brows lifted slightly — surprised.
“Yes, Atty. Would that be all po?”
I glanced at the people surrounding me — Andrew, my security team, my fellow attorneys, and the few staff trailing behind.
“Please take their orders, sagot ko na lahat.”
Leo’s eyes widened, but he quickly masked it with a polite nod.
“Okay po, Atty.”
While waiting, I leaned back in my seat, letting the conversations around me drift into a distant hum.
“Uy! May board games pala rito, perfect bago mag usap about legal matters.” I mused out loud.
Andrew’s phone beeped. “Sir, nag message po si sir Benjie. Papunta na raw po siya rito.”
Benjie.
A soft smile tugged at my lips. It had been years.
“Si Benjie? It’s been 7 years since nagkita kami. Miss ko na rin siya.”
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As if on cue, the café door chimed.
“Miguel!”
His voice echoed across the room before I even saw him. My heart clenched at the familiarity of it — so warm, so constant.
I rose to my feet, arms wide open as he practically crashed into me.
“7 years na tayo hindi nagkita! Hindi ka man lang pumunta ng states!” I teased, laughing spilling between us.
“Paano ako bibisita eh palagi kang busy, at balita ko marami kang case na hawak.”
We sat down, laughter fading into something softer. Benjie had always been one of the few constants in my life — a tether to who I used to be.
Our orders arrived shortly after.
I lifted the ceramic cup to my lips, the first sip hitting my tongue — bold, rich, with a subtle sweetness lingering at the end.
It tasted… different.
Ibang-iba sa mga inoorder ko sa ibang bansa.
“Oh my gosh.. Tikman mo Benjie, ang sarap,” I murmured, pushing my cup toward Benjie.
“Guys tikman niyo, ang sarap!” I said to my fellow attorneys. Few of them were shocked by the taste.
“Ha? Eh kape lang din naman lasa.” Benji said.
“Noooo!” I shot him a playful glare. “This coffee… It’s unique. Iba sa mga binibili ko… it’s rare to have a coffee like this…”
Benji snorted. “Ngek? Lahat naman siguro ng kapihan sa states natikman mo na? Dito mo pa talaga nainom ang kakaiba ah.”
“I’m not joking, Benj. This is the best I’ve had in years.”
A flick of curiosity tugged at me. I caught the attention of another barista — Khyle.
“May I ask about this coffee? What makes it so special? Curious lang ako, ang sarap kase.”
“Atty, that one po is made with love and blended by one of our greatest baristas.”
“And who might that be?”
“Si Ace po, Atty.”
Ace.
A strange name. It lingered on my tongue — soft, foreign.
“Is he here?”
“Naka-break po, sir. Pero makakarating po sa kanya ang compliments niyo.”
I nodded slowly, fingers tracing the rim of my cup.
It wasn’t long before I saw him — tall, lean, with a quiet presence that demanded nothing yet filled the room. His apron hung loose on his frame, dark curls slightly disheveled from the rush of the morning shift.
We stole stares — just for a second.
“Hello, sir.” His voice was soft, unsure.
“You must be Ace.”
He swallowed, shifting awkwardly on his feet.
“Ah… opo.”
“You made this?”
“Yes po.”
The corner of my lips lifted.
“It’s the best I’ve had in a long time. Iba ka, Ace.”
His ears tinged pink, gaze flicking downward.
“Salamat po.”
I studied him — his hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. There was something raw about him. Something… familiar.
“Ang galing mo. Palagi na akong babalik rito.”
Ace’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. I caught the subtle tremor in his fingers before he stuffed them deeper into his pockets.
“You should increase his salary, Ang galing na bata!” I quipped, loud enough for the whole café to hear. The staff, and my fellow attorney’s chuckled, while Ace’s face burned a deeper shade of crimson.
A smile played on my lips as he turned away, the echo of his name still lingering in the air.
Later that night, with whiskey swirling in my glass and Benji teasing me about life, I couldn’t stop replaying that stolen glance in my head.
“Ang cute mo pag may kausap kang iba hahaha, nawawala yung pagiging cold at serious mo.” Benji teased.
I rolled my eyes, brushing him off —
but my mind wandered back to dark curls and trembling fingers.
“Alam mo Miguel”
“Ang gwapo.”
I blinked, caught off guard.
“Ha?”
Benji, smiling slyly, pulled out his phone — flashing a photo he must’ve taken earlier.
It was me and Ace, standing across each other. The brief handshake, the faint blush on his face.
“Mukhang may reason ka nang bumalik-balik dito.”
I snatched the phone from his hands, glaring at him.
“Gago ka talaga! Taking a pic without my permission ah..!”
But long after the laughter faded, I found myself scrolling back to that photo.
Lingering.
Wondering.
