C19: Lancelot

A lady with an elegant, V-neck indigo jumpsuit stepped outside the airport exit's glass doors, pulling her black traveling bag. Her open sleeves swing back and forth with each step that she makes, her white high-heeled shoes perfecting her feminine poise.

She removed her shades and looked right and left, searching for someone who'll pick her up. This is perhaps Evangeline, the woman I'm tasked to pick up. Clearly, she knows how to dress up. This is how I pictured her, and I can't be wrong about this.

I waved my hand as her eyes landed on me, and she walked closer to my car.

"You must be Lancelot," she began, an exhausted smile written on her face. Her eyes are swollen, which is perhaps the reason why she wore shades all along. I wonder what's the story behind that.

"Yes, but please just call me Lance," I smiled back as I opened my car's trunk to put her baggage in. It was like yesterday, the corpse of her cousin was put here, now, it's her bag. We just met a few seconds ago, yet, the level of guilt inside me reached its extreme level.

I stepped inside my car, seeing her sitting beside me. She looked at me, the exhausted smile still written on her lips. "Thanks for picking me up. Should I introduce myself?" she offered.

"Sure, if you wish," I replied, my eyes fixed on her, still. The engine is turned on, but we took the time for the little introduction. As far as I know, parking isn't allowed here but, who cares? It shouldn't be that bad to break the rules from time to time.

"So, I'm Hana Evangeline. Eve, for short. You already know my dad, and he told me a lot about you," she said. "I hope we'll be friends."

If she knows who I am behind this face, she might slam the doors shut. I don't know her deeply, but it's a possibility.

"Sure, we can. Should we get going?" she nodded in approval and leaned back on her seat. I stepped on the gas and started driving.

"You traveled for around 18 hours, haven't you? You must be tired and dealing with the jetlag," I began. She has no idea how tempted I am to ask why her eyes are swollen, the reason behind those tears or anything else – because it's all written on her face.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are your eyes swollen?" I glanced at her, but unexpectedly, she's already sleeping peacefully. I know she's tired, but I wasn't expecting that she'll fall asleep that fast.

The thought of how emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted she already gives me the idea that she'll need at least a week's rest.

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Two hours later, we arrived at her home. It's a huge waste of time to drive along Manila because traffic is always heavy. One reason is we hit the road during the rush hour, so it isn't something surprising. Besides, there's no point in complaining now. What matters is, we're here.

"Eve, we're here," no answer. Unlike her, I can't imagine having a deep sleep in a car. I gently tapped her arm to wake her up, which worked. She went out of the car as I did and I carried her baggage out of my car's trunk. Without any more words, she unlocked the gate and walked along the passage along the grass that leads to her house. To my surprise, the keys fell from her hand with her, who lost consciousness and fell to the ground next to the key.

"Eve!" I hurriedly ran towards her and picked her up from the ground, carrying her between my arms. As I enter their house, I put her down on the sofa and went back outside to take her baggage which is thankfully, still there. I hurriedly went upstairs to find a room where she can lie in, but the only unlocked door is her father's room, which leaves me with no other choice.

I touched Evangeline's forehead, trying to sense her temperature. She's burning hot, and I carried her to her father's room. As I lay her down on the bed, I can't help but give a closer look at her face as she sleeps.

This can't be. She looks exactly like the fascinating lady I saw in my dream. No wonder why she looked familiar when I first saw her. Still, how can I possibly meet someone I only met in my dream? It feels like it's too much for a coincidence. I closed my eyes to recall the dream – the lady who was in a chiffon dress with layers of light yellow and orange, with flowers and ribbons on her hair. The one who followed me when I isolated myself in the balcony and brought a glass of wine for both of us. The girl who introduced herself as 'Hana.' She is, in real life, 'Hana Evangeline,' after all. Maybe I should tell her about that dream if the timing is right.

I looked for the bathroom and wet a towel and squeezed it. As I go back to the room, I put the towel on her forehead to cool her down, but she gave no response at all. Meanwhile, as I look at her, my phone rang. The name flashed was 'Nate' and I tapped the green button to answer.

"What?" I asked.

"Where are you?" he replied, his voice seemingly in a rush.

"Why do you have to know? Just answer me. What is this call for?"

"We need to talk. You went to my office, right? I have some things to discuss with you, too."

"I can't. Not right now. I'm taking care of somebody, and I can't just leave her like this."

"Her? Who's that woman? You don't have a girlfriend, don't you?"

"Good riddance, that escalated fast. I just met her today, and there's nothing special between us. She's my boss' daughter. I picked her up from the airport and took her to her home, but she passed out."

"I see. Hearing you, however, saying that you're taking care of someone felt new, though. You usually murder people and not take care of them."

"Shut up. I'm not going to kill anyone else again. Mark my words."

"I already withdrew from the investigation. From your case. It's the only way I can keep your case from coming out. Besides, nobody's even bothering to check on the case, not even Giovanni's family. But I cannot save you from other people you murdered. You have at least, if I remember well, around 10 pending cases. You're too good at breaking the pieces of evidence. But there are some other things that you should know aside from that. My parents … aren't your parents. We're not brothers."

"If you're thinking that I'm surprised, I'm not. I never saw them as parents, anyway. I stopped caring. I won't bother to visit them again."

"What's with you?"

"When I found out that Giovanni is my boss' nephew, I got back to my senses. I can't afford to hurt people that I value. Sir Elliot is the only person who treated me like a family. All I feel now is guilt," I explained, heaving a breath. "I want a fresh start."

An awkward silence filled both lines, and Nate finally said his last judgment.

"That's something I wasn't expecting from you. I wish to mock you and say, 'don't make me laugh,' but I sense the sincerity in your tone. We'll see where this goes, then."

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Descending footsteps echoed from the stairs, killing the dead silence. I looked back to see, and it was from Evangeline, wearing the same clothes as yesterday – except that she's wearing different footwear now. She expressed an exhausted smile, her eyes less swollen than last night.

"Hi," she greeted, her voice soft.

"Good morning. I made breakfast for you. In case you don't remember, you passed out when we arrived here, so I had to carry you to the bed. I was worried when I noticed that you're having a fever, so I thought I should take care of you until you wake up. But, don't worry, I didn't do anything weird … if that's what you call it," she walked closer and sat on the high chair next to the bar, planting her elbows on it, her hands under her chin.

I smiled as she did, and I served the fried rice, and fried eggs. "I cooked whatever I saw here. You got up on time. I just finished brewing the coffee. Do you prefer coffee, milk, hot chocolate?"

"We're not in the restaurant, so stop acting like a waiter," she chuckled, fixing her eyes on me. I can help but do the same. "I'd like some hot chocolate."

"Coming," I opened a pack of hot chocolate and poured it into a cup, and poured the hot water next. "Here you go," I gave her the mug with hot chocolate, and she stirred it, savoring its aroma.

"Thanks, Lance. I wasn't expecting all of these things. Your girlfriend or wife might be mad at you when they figured that you stayed in another girl's house," she put down her mug and put some rice on her plate.

"I don't have any of that," I confessed as I sit across her. "Enough about me. How are you feeling?"

"A lot better. You know, I think I'm getting the idea of why dad liked you so much. I can see that you're a responsible person. Your future wife would be lucky,"

"When I first saw you, sadness and exhaustion were written all over your face. It's pretty obvious that you cried a lot. Your eyes were swollen. If you don't mind me asking, is there anything I can do to help?"

She broke eye contact, and paused from slicing her fried egg, yet, she smiled … a sad smile.

"My dad just told me that Giovanni's probably dead. I found it hard to accept. It feels like yesterday; we were talking about different things. Then also, because I broke up with my boyfriend when I found out that he's been cheating on me. You know, cliché story. Those were too much for me to handle at once. I hate myself for crying for weeks, I hate being emotional, but I am. I completely lost my sense of self. I had several panic attacks. It's almost the only thing that I've been doing recently, and at some point, I think I should surrender myself to the mental hospital."

Giovanni.

Of course, it's him. My chest tightens at the thought. There's the fact that I'm one of the reasons behind her tears, yet, I'm the one who's trying to cheer her up. This is the only way I can think of to get rid of the guilt that keeps on haunting me ever since I found out that Giovanni's related to their family. I may be trying to befriend her, but once she finds out, she might kill me.

"Maybe I'm not in the position to say this, but, I want to help. In case you need someone to talk to, you can tell me anything. I'm all ears." For some reason, I'm getting the urge to check on her as often as I can, as if she's my responsibility. It shouldn't be that bad to help. After all, it's my fault why she's suffering like this.

"Sure, I'll appreciate it. I think my fever's gone, so, I'll live. Don't you have work today?"

"It's Sunday. We don't work during Sundays. Each employee has two day-offs. Mine is Wednesday, and when the restaurant is closed, which is Sundays."

"How about plans for today? Don't you have any?"

"I don't. So, if you want some company, I can do that." She smiled at the thought, and I'll take that as a yes.