Chapter 1: Fiesta
The church bells of Saint Claire Parish rang loudly across Sitio Maligaya as I stepped out of our vehicle. Vivian Ventura, my cousin, was walking beside me. She was still fussing about how excited she was after the mass, and things we should do around the area.
Around us was a sound mixed with the laughter of children running across the plaza and the distant music from the marching band preparing for today’s fiesta celebration.
Fiesta season had always been my favorite time of the year. Because there are a lot of things to have fun with, and contests that people were looking forward to, like my favorite one, which is the Barrel Racing.
On this very day of the year, the entire town came alive, given that the colorful baderitas were stretched across every street, and people were happy greeting each other, because here in Sitio Maligaya, people know everyone and people are happy.
I can see in the other side food stalls lined the plaza offering different kinds of foods such as kakanin and street foods.
“Oh wow, I just had breakfast, and the aroma coming from the stalls makes my tummy growl again,” Vivian said, acting like she was holding her stomach she was smiling and sniffing the air.
“You can have your mukbang later, Vivian,” Ibrahim Ventura, our cousin, replied to her.
In our back is our dearly beloved nonchalant cousin, Tristan Ventura who doesn’t care that much at all but he’s listening to our conversation.
Meanwhile, families gathered together for the mass and to enjoy and reflect on the fiesta.
And for one week, Sitio Maligaya felt less like a town and more like one giant family. At least, that’s how I had always seen it because that’s really how I viewed the town, unified and as one.
“Isabella, wait.”
I stopped walking through the entrance of the church and turned around.
As expected, Lola Flora was already fixing something, again. She just came from greeting the townspeople.
“Your hair.”
“Lola.”
“Hold still.”
I laughed as she adjusted a few loose strands near my face.
“You act like I’m running for an office.”
My grandmother gasped dramatically.
“Of course not.”
Then she smiled.
“You’re much prettier than any politician in this town.”
I rolled my eyes.
She also fixes the dress of my cousin Vivian who also complained because she look like a child being cared by her mother.
Behind us, is my mother laughing together with her sister Vice Governor Tita Victorina who was clinging to her. They just also got from a small talk.
Lolo Mariano pretended not to hear our nosyness, a typical thing for my grandfather.
I smiled despite myself.
Moments like this were why I loved my family.
To everyone else, the Venturas were powerful, influential, and respected. Some even called us the first family of Sitio Maligaya. Because our family ruled the town.
But to me?
We were just a simple and happy family who spent Sunday nights singing together at a karaoke, playing billiards, or spending the Sunday afternoon racing with our horses.
Behind that built appearance was a caring and kind family, my Lolo Mariano, who secretly fed stray animals behind my Lola’s back. My Mom, who always remembered everyone’s birthdays. Lola Flora, who believed food could solve every problem known to mankind. Tita Victorina and Tito Carlos who always helped everyone in town mingle and be with them.
The people around me weren’t politicians. They were home, and they are what I call my Family.
We walked toward Saint Claire Parish Church together. Alongside us is the second branch of the family, Lolo Jeronimo, Tito Carlos, Ibrahim, and Vivian. While my Lolo Tadeo were busy mingling and chitchatting with the boys who will I think will compete later on the race.
I can see through here that the plaza was already crowded with different people. People standing outside greeted my grandparents everywhere we went, farmers, teachers, business owners, and barangay officials who were also here to celebrate the town’s fiesta.
Everyone seemed to know them, and they knew everyone in town.
“Good morning, Mayor!”
“It’s happy to see you, Vice Governor!”
“Happy Fiesta, Lolo Mariano!”
“Morning, Ma’am Flora!”
The greetings never stopped.
I was used to it ever since I was a kid. Ever since my Lolo became the Governor, until it was passed down to his cousin Lolo Jeronimo, and up to the reigning Governor now, which is his son Tito Carlos Ventura.
Being a Ventura meant being recognized almost everywhere, and being a Ventura means publicity cameras here and there, and our every move was posted on the internet and published in a newspaper, and being a Ventura was also a headline.
The church came into view a few moments later.
Its white walls gleamed beneath the morning sunlight. The steps were already packed with people. Several of the town’s prominent families had arrived before us.
The Blancos occupied one side of the entrance.
The Abads stood near the church doors, chatting with local officials.
The Castellanos were gathered beneath a large acacia tree.
The Raquels had practically taken over an entire row of pews.
And the Heras...
Well, the Heras somehow managed to look elegant even at seven in the morning.
Some talents were truly unfair.
“Rosally, Rosette!
I waved immediately after spotting my best friends, Rosally and Rosette Blanco.
They waved back so enthusiastically that she nearly dropped her handbag.
Rosette, standing beside her, caught it before disaster could happen.
As usual.
Rosally created chaos, while Rosette her older sister managed it.
The balance of nature remained intact always between them they are truly opposite despite sharing genes.
“Happy Fiesta!” Rosally shouted.
“We’re literally five feet away.”
“I know!”
I laughed because she never changed even a bit ever since we were still kids running around the plaza’s grounds.
The familiar normalcy settled over me. I was always used to this kind of scenario, this was my home, predictable, comforting, and safe.
Then my mind went back to where I was right now as loud whispers that came from Rosally, to Vivian, then to Rosette.
At first, I ignored them, because when the four of us were together we were always nosy but this time, the atmosphere felt different.
People whispered not just them
Heads began turning toward the church entrance. More people followed. Then more.
Even the choir members looked distracted.
I frowned.
“What is everyone looking at?”
Rosally’s eyes widened.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” I repeated.
“Oh.”
That wasn’t helpful.
I followed everyone’s gaze.
And immediately understood.
A black SUV had just pulled into the church grounds.
The vehicle stopped near the entrance.
The driver’s door opened.
Then someone stepped out.
The reaction was immediate.
Whispers exploded throughout the crowd.
“Oh my God.”
“He’s back.”
“Is that really him?”
“No way.”
“It is.”
My confusion lasted exactly three seconds.
Then I recognized him.
Leonardo Santiago.
The Santiago heir.
The boy who had left for Spain years ago.
The boy everyone talked about but rarely saw, everyone knows about him as a troublemaker.
The Santiago rebel.
His return somehow felt like town-wide breaking news as people were starting to open their phones and get some photos while the media were taking shots of him.
I stared despite myself.
Not because he was handsome. Which he unfortunately was, very annoyingly.
But because of the reaction he caused.
People acted like a celebrity had arrived, but Leonardo didn’t seem to care.
He simply closed the SUV door and headed toward the church.
Unlike the last time that I saw him here, he’s now tall, calmed, and somehow he gives off some vibe that will anytime would create chaos.
Heard a lot of rumors about him in Spain.
Now, I can see he’s completely unaffected by the attention. As though he had no idea that half the town was staring at him. Or maybe he knew and just didn’t care.
Honestly, I couldn’t decide which was more irritating.
Beside me, Rosally grabbed my arm.
“He’s prettier in person.”
I nearly choked.
“Rosally!”
“What?”
“Have some dignity.”
“I’m trying.”
“You failed.”
Vivian sighed.
“Spectacularly.”
The three of us burst into quiet laughter.
For a brief moment, Leonardo’s gaze swept across the crowd.
And for one second, our eyes met.
I immediately looked away.
Not because I was nervous.
Absolutely not, why would I be?
Because I had better things to do than stare at Leonardo Santiago.
The Mass began shortly afterward and the church now slowly settled into silence.
Prayers filled the air.
The choir sang angelically and then the priest already began his homily. But halfway through, my attention drifted.
Not toward Leonardo.
Toward the church doors.
Because, it happened every year. Every Mass and in every important occasion.
Without meaning to, I always looked.
Just in case.
Just in case my father walked through those doors.
The thought was ridiculous.
I knew that.
Everyone knew that.
My Father had disappeared years ago.
No answers.
No explanations.
Just silence.
Still...
I looked.
Every time.
And every time...
he wasn’t there.
A familiar ache settled inside my chest.
I quickly forced myself to focus on the Mass.
When the final blessing ended, the church immediately erupted into conversation.
The fiesta atmosphere returned.
Families gathered outside, children ran through the plaza.
Politicians shook hands.
Businessmen exchanged smiles.
Everything felt normal again.
Until I noticed Leonardo standing beneath an acacia tree near the edge of the church grounds.
He wasn’t alone.
A man had approached him. Someone unfamiliar. The man was tall and older than us.
He was wearing a dark jacket despite the heat. I couldn’t hear their conversation from where I stood. But something about it felt strange.
The man’s expression was serious.
Leonardo’s posture became noticeably rigid. Like whatever they were discussing wasn’t casual. Because I saw their expressions, Leonardo’s eyebrows met while talkinh to the man and the man just still give the expression he has the whole time they were talking.
For some reason, I couldn’t look away. I just couldn’t my curiosity was pulling me into them. Then the stranger turned and for the briefest second, his eyes landed on me.
A chill ran down my spine when our eyes met and the air brush through my entire body which made my heart beat faster and an unrecognizable feeling stood upon me. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at me.
Like he recognized me, like he knew something I didn’t because the way he stared through me. I know he is familiar.
Those eyes looked very familiar.
Like I have seen them before, I just couldn’t remember.
Before I could think about it further, Lola Flora called my name.
“Isabella!”
I turned immediately.
When I looked back, the stranger was already gone and the gushing wind embrace my face.
The man vanished into the crowd.
Leaving only Leonardo standing beneath the acacia tree. He was watching the place where the man had disappeared.
And for reasons I couldn’t explain, I had a feeling that whoever that man was...
his arrival would change everything.
I just didn’t know it yet, but somehow I feel an unsettling feeling about it.
