"The happiest memories are often the ones we never realize we're making."
For a long moment, no one spoke.
The cheerful atmosphere that had filled the dining room only moments earlier slowly dissolved into an uneasy silence. Morning sunlight streamed through the open windows, painting warm patches of gold across the wooden table, while a cool breeze carried the scent of damp earth from the garden outside. The bowls of steaming champorado still released thin curls of chocolate-scented steam, but somehow the warmth of breakfast no longer reached the room.
The only sound was the soft scrape of metal against porcelain.
I glanced across the table.
Zero sat quietly, absentmindedly stirring the melted milk into his champorado, watching the white swirls disappear beneath the chocolate. Round and round his spoon went, slower with every circle, as though he had forgotten he was even supposed to be eating.
He wasn't sulking.
He wasn't throwing a tantrum.
If anything, he looked like he was trying his best to convince himself that everything was fine.
"I was really looking forward to it," he admitted at last, his voice barely rising above the quiet clinking of his spoon.
The words weren't filled with anger.
There was no whining.
No complaint.
Just quiet disappointment.
Somehow... That hurt far more than if he'd cried.
I felt something tighten inside my chest.
If Zero had argued or begged Mama to change her mind, I probably would've teased him like I always did. That's what older sisters were supposed to do.
But seeing him like this...
Trying so hard to understand...
Trying so hard to be mature...
It made me wish I could fix it for him.
Mama let out a quiet sigh and gently placed her coffee mug on its saucer. The soft clink echoed through the silence before she reached across the table to smooth the messy strands of hair that had fallen over Zero's forehead.
"I'm sorry, anak," she said softly. "I know you were excited."
Zero looked up and met her eyes. For just a second, I thought he might ask again.
Instead, he simply smiled.
It was small.
Gentle.
Almost convincing. "It's okay, Ma."
Anyone else would've believed him. Papa probably wanted to. Mama certainly wished she could.
But I couldn't.
I'd known my little brother for fourteen years. Long enough to recognize every version of his smile. There was the grin he wore after winning a basketball game. The mischievous one that always meant he was about to prank someone.
The sheepish smile he gave whenever he broke something and hoped nobody would notice.
And then there was this one.
The smile he wore whenever he didn't want the people he loved to worry.
It never fooled me.
Not once.
I lowered my gaze to my own breakfast, pretending to stir the champorado even though my appetite had disappeared.
Maybe next weekend, I thought.
I'll save up.
I'll take him myself.
Before the silence could grow any heavier, Papa cleared his throat.
He looked around the table for a moment, his eyes lingering on Zero before a familiar spark of mischief appeared in them. I recognized that expression immediately. Whenever one of us was upset, Papa always considered it his personal responsibility to make us laugh—even if it meant embarrassing himself in the process.
He tore a piece of warm pandesal in half, dipped it into his champorado, then leaned back in his chair as though an important announcement was about to be made.
"So..." he began casually, "who wants to help me wash the car later?"
Zero answered so quickly it almost startled me.
"I'm emotionally unavailable."
I slowly turned toward him. "...What?"
He placed a dramatic hand over his chest and stared into the distance like the tragic hero of a television drama.
"My heart has been broken."
I held his gaze for exactly three seconds. Then I completely lost it.
A laugh escaped before I could stop it, loud enough that I had to cover my mouth.
Papa nearly dropped his spoon into his bowl, and even Mama couldn't hold back anymore. She laughed behind her hand, shaking her head as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
"There he is," Papa chuckled, pointing his spoon toward Zero. "I knew we'd find him eventually."
Zero wasn't finished. Still wearing the expression of someone who had suffered the greatest injustice imaginable, he gestured solemnly toward his bowl.
"I'm smiling on the outside," he declared. Then he looked down at the champorado.
"But this champorado..." He sighed dramatically. "...knows the truth."
That was enough. I doubled over laughing, my stomach beginning to ache.
End of Chapter Four
— IamPrecious —