Chapter 29: The Colors I Want to See Again13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNOgKeSq8tb
13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB2JDq6iG2Q
Seoul, South Korea
Erica stood still in front of the canvas.
Blank.
Like the darkness she had grown used to.
But something stirred in her lately—faint flashes. Shadows. A soft glimmer in the corners of her mind, like a dream trying to force its way back to memory. The doctor said it was possible. That her optic nerves were responding. That maybe—just maybe—her sight would come back.
“I want to see again,” she whispered to herself, holding a brush between her fingers.
But more than the sky, the sea, the strokes of paint she used to master with her soul… she wanted to see his face.
Jepoy.
She felt the texture of the Polaroid she had sent him weeks ago. She had added the second key for a reason. She wanted him to know she never let go.
Never.
Not even when he left.
“Still yours,” she had written. But truthfully, she was more his than he could ever know.
Lia had long left. After the confrontation, after all the truths spilled—about her greed, about David, about how she hated Erica for receiving all the love that never belonged to her—she had simply disappeared.
Erica was no longer angry. Just... empty.
She didn’t want to carry pain anymore.
Today, all she wanted to carry was hope.
She pressed her hand to the wall as she stepped toward the window. The breeze was cool. She knew spring had begun. She couldn’t see the cherry blossoms outside, but the scent, the soft fluttering sound they made as they fell—it was enough to imagine.
And suddenly… there it was again.
A flash.
No, more like a haze. A ripple of light.
She gasped. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Jepoy,” she murmured. “I think I’m starting to see...”
Her knees buckled. She caught herself before falling.
She was scared.
What if this was just her imagination?
But even if it was, it was enough fuel for her heart to beat with purpose again.
The next day, she visited the hospital. The doctors ran tests. Scans. Reflex checks. And finally, the verdict.
“You’re recovering, Ms. Bautista,” the ophthalmologist said with a cautious smile. “Slowly, but surely. Keep resting. Take your medications. And if you’re lucky, your sight might return completely in the next few months.”
She couldn’t stop crying when she heard that.
Not because of the news itself.
But because the first thing that came to her mind was Jepoy’s smile. That lopsided grin. The dimple on his right cheek. The way he would raise an eyebrow when teasing her. She was finally going to see it again.
She had to go to him.
Erica rushed home and pulled out the old white cane she no longer used. She folded it gently, placed it in the drawer, and instead, picked up her sketchbook.
She couldn’t paint yet—not the way she used to—but she wanted to leave something behind before flying to Manila.
On the first page, she wrote:
“The color I want to see first is the brown in his eyes.”
She packed her bag, her passport, the letter from the hospital… and the second copy of their lock and key photo.
As she zipped her luggage, she whispered softly, “Wait for me, Jepoy.”
Meanwhile, in Tondo…
Jepoy was repairing a neighbor’s electric fan when his mother came running, holding her phone like it was made of gold.
“Anak! Tumawag si Erica! Gusto kang makausap!”
He nearly dropped the screwdriver in his hand.
He hadn’t heard her voice in weeks.
He snatched the phone with shaking fingers.
“Hello? Erica?”
There was a pause.
Then a voice—soft, trembling.
“Hi, Jepoy…”
He couldn’t breathe.
“God… I missed that voice.”
“I’m coming to Manila,” she said.
His heart almost stopped.
“What?”
“I want to see you.”
“But I—” His voice cracked. “You mean… you can see now?”
“Not yet,” she admitted. “But it’s starting. Lights. Shapes. Shadows. And I want the first thing I see clearly to be you.”
He didn’t respond right away.
Because tears were already rolling down his cheeks.
The next few days passed in a blur.
Jepoy fixed his small room—repainted the walls, bought curtains with his savings, cleaned every corner until it smelled like new beginnings.
He even bought ice cream—the same brand they used to eat in the Seoul tunnel.
When the day finally came, he stood at NAIA Terminal 3 with a single sunflower in his hand—her favorite.
The plane landed. The crowd flooded out. His eyes searched for her face in the sea of passengers.
And then…
There she was.
Walking slowly. Carefully. Sunglasses on. Holding someone’s elbow.
But when she reached the arrival area, she turned toward his direction—like she felt him.
“Jepoy?” she asked, voice shaking.
He stepped forward, throat tight. “Right here, Erica.”
She smiled, and with trembling hands, reached out and touched his face.
And then she gasped.
A breathless sob.
“I… I see light around you.”
He took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. “It’s okay. Even if you can’t fully see me yet, I’ve always seen you, Erica. Always.”
She chuckled through her tears. “I’ll see everything soon, Jepoy. And when I do... I want to see us.”
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