Collide

Nestled at the edge of the quiet town of Encarnacion, where the roads gradually surrendered to fields and forests, stood a modest sanctuary known as Safe Haven Elderly Care Facility. It was a refuge for the abandoned, a quiet harbor for lives the world had left behind—a place where the elderly could grow old not in loneliness, but surrounded by kindness, prayer, and the simple dignity of being remembered.

"Thank you so much, Sir, for this blessing you have given us. May the Lord be the one to repay your kindness,”an elderly man whispered, his voice trembling with gratitude, his eyes glistening with tears.

He was a man well into his seventies, his face etched by years of hardship and the quiet battles of a life lived on the margins. With trembling hands, he received the new wheelchair brought by Octavian Engineering Corporation.

Earlier that morning, the charity team had arrived in the remote town of Encarnacion carrying more than supplies. They brought fifty brand-new wheelchairs, oxygen tanks, hygiene kits, medicines, and a year’s supply of rice, goods and milk for the elderly residents of Safe Haven Elderly Care Facility. For those who had spent years knowing hunger, abandonment, and loneliness, the arrival felt almost like a miracle.

Lady Therese stood among them, watching. She was the founder of the facility along with another missionary long ago. She’s a graceful woman in her mid-thirties, dressed in the simple black-and-white habit of a nun. Beneath her veil, her delicate features and luminous eyes. She had a naturally slim, slender build. Nothing about her appearance was meant to attract attention; her clothing was simple, dignified, and conservative, reflecting the humility of her vocation.

Despite all her years of tending to the forgotten, she could not stop the tears from gathering in her eyes.

She looked upon the faces of the elderly people she had cared for—the men and women she had gathered from streets, abandoned homes, and places where no one thought to look for them. Here, they were given more than food and shelter. They were given a place to belong. A place where forgotten souls could once again feel remembered.

And on this morning, as Lady Therese watched the charity workers unload one blessing after another, she silently thanked God.

Because sometimes, kindness did not arrive with thunder or miracles from heaven. Sometimes, it came quietly—from a stranger who simply decided that someone else’s suffering mattered.

"Ma’am Sheila, we’re truly grateful for all these blessings you’ve given us. I honestly don’t know how to put my gratitude into words." Therese spoke softly, her voice thick with emotion as she faced Miss Sheila Campbell, the head of the Octavian Charity Foundation.

"Oh, Lady Therese, you don’t have to say all that," Sheila replied with a gentle smile. “We’re simply sharing what we have. Octavian Engineering was built with a vision to become a channel of hope for people who need it most, wherever they may be in the world. This mission was personally initiated by our CEO, Mr. Vermont Octavian.”

Therese lowered her gaze for a moment, her fingers gently clasping the small crucifix resting against her chest.

"I wish I could thank Mr. Octavian in person. I never imagined that something this great would reach us, especially out here. We’re so far from everything.” Her eyes wandered toward the elderly residents gathered beneath the veranda, some smiling from their new wheelchairs, others simply watching the charity workers unload boxes of medicine, food, and supplies.

"This is the first time we’ve ever received a donation like this,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ll always pray for your company. And I’ll pray for Mr. Octavian, too—for you and everyone who works with him. May God keep all of you safe and in good health.”

Sheila smiled warmly.

"That means more to us than you know.”

For a moment, the two women simply stood there, surrounded by the quiet hum of grateful voices and the gentle rustling of leaves in the afternoon breeze.

Then—

A dark vehicle suddenly appeared in the distance.

It moved slowly along the winding road leading toward Safe Haven, its black body glinting beneath the fading sunlight. Therese’s smile gradually disappeared. She wondered.

"Oh! That’s Mr. Octavian’s car,” Sheila said, glancing toward the dark vehicle waiting near the entrance. “I thought he wouldn’t be able to make it. The mayor and the governor invited him to lunch.”

"Really?" Therese turned toward the car.

"Maybe he’s just tired. I don’t want to bother him unless he decides to come inside. But please, don’t forget to tell him how grateful we are.”

Before Therese could say anything more, Sheila’s phone rang.

Sheila answered immediately.

"Will it be done anytime soon?”

Inside the car, Vermont Octavian sat quietly in the back seat, listening to Sheila’s voice through the phone. His expression was calm, almost indifferent, until his gaze wandered beyond the tinted window.

Then he saw her.

His heart skipped.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

The woman standing among the elderly residents, dressed in a simple black-and-white habit, was someone he had spent twenty years burying in the deepest corner of his memory.

Therese.

His Therese.

His first love.

The one who got away.

The one who had simply disappeared from his life twenty years ago without giving him a single explanation. He could still remember that day. The day after her debut. He had waited for her on their favorite picnic site. Because she promised on that day, she will finally allow him to kiss her.

Instead, he found only a letter. No goodbye spoken. No explanation. No reason he could understand.

Just a few words on paper—and then she was gone. He could still remember clearly. He waited her throughout the night.

He had been young then, foolishly certain that first love was something that could never be taken away. He had believed she would stay. He had believed the promises they made to each other meant something.

Then she vanished.

The memory ignited a force that made his fingers slowly tightened around the phone.

A familiar ache resurfaced in his chest—a wound he had convinced himself had long since scarred over.

Apparently, it hadn’t.

His jaw tightened.

The warmth drained from his expression, replaced by something colder, darker.

Outside the window, Therese smiled at an elderly woman sitting in one of the new wheelchairs, completely unaware that someone was watching her from across the courtyard.

"Mr. Octavian?" Sheila’s voice came through the phone. ”Are you still there?”

Vermont didn’t answer immediately.

His eyes remained fixed on Therese.

"Yeah," he finally said, his voice low and controlled.“I’m listening."

But he wasn’t.

Not anymore.

For twenty years, he had wondered why she left. Now, after all those years, she was standing only a few yards away. Wearing a nun’s habit. Looking almost exactly like the girl he had loved.

But this time, he wasn’t the lovesick boy she had left behind. He was a man who had built an empire. A man who had learned how to bury pain beneath power, money, and silence.

“Sheila, get in the car. I need to talk to you. It’s important,” Vermont said coldly over the phone before ending the call. A few moments later, Sheila stepped away from the facility and walked toward the waiting vehicle. She opened the door and hopped inside, her expression carrying a hint of confusion.

Vermont barely looked at her.

"Tell the nun I need to speak with her. Privately." His voice was calm, almost emotionless. Sheila studied him for a moment, clearly sensing that something was off.

"You want to talk to Lady Therese?” Vermont finally turned his eyes toward her.

"You heard it, aren’t you?.”

Sheila had known Vermont long enough to recognize his expression but now something was strange.

His expression remained unreadable, but there was something unsettling in his eyes.

"Yes, I’ll tell Lady Therese,” Sheila replied.

"Ask her if she has an office.”

"Yes, sir. I’ll let her know."

"I need somewhere private.”

"Okay. I’ll go.”

Sheila quickly stepped out of the car and hurried back toward the facility, where Therese was still with the elderly residents.

Sheila approached her with a polite smile.

"Lady Therese, Mr. Octavian would like to speak with you privately. Do you have an office?”

Therese’s eyes widened slightly.

"Really? That’s great. Yes, I do. I have an office in the building next door. Just follow me.”

There was a faint note of excitement in her voice. She had been hoping for a chance to personally thank the man behind the generous donation.

"Okay, I’ll let him know.”

Sheila quickly headed back toward the car and waved to get Vermont’s attention.

A moment later, Vermont stepped out.

He looked nothing like the powerful CEO who usually appeared in polished suits and tailored coats. Today, he wore a simple dark polo shirt and faded denim jeans, the sleeves revealing the strong lines of his forearms. His long hair was tied loosely at the back, while a trace of stubble shadowed his jaw.

Casual.

Unassuming.

Yet somehow, he still carried the unmistakable presence of a man accustomed to being obeyed.

He closed the car door behind him and glanced toward the facility. Then his eyes found her.

Lady Therese.

For twenty years, she still had the looks that unknowingly captivate him.

"Mr. Octavian.” She bowed.

Vermont gave her nothing but a brief nod. His face was partially concealed beneath a black mask, while a pair of gray-tinted sunglasses hid his eyes. Dressed casually, he looked almost anonymous—except for the unmistakable presence he carried.

There was something about him that made the air around him feel heavier.

Powerful.

Controlled.

Untouchable.

Therese’s smile slowly faded into something more cautious. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt strangely unsettled by his presence. Perhaps it was the way he walked without hurry, as though the world naturally made room for him. Or perhaps it was the silence—he seemed to have no need for small talk, introductions, or pleasantries.

He simply followed.

And somehow, that was more intimidating than words could ever be. She tried to dismiss the uneasy feeling in her chest.

He’s only a donor, she reminded herself. But the thought didn’t quite settle her nerves. She’s unaware that behind his dark glasses, Vermont watched her quietly.

"Come in, Mr. Octavian,” Therese said warmly upon opening the door of her humble office.

"Have a seat, sir." She gestured toward the old couch against the wall. Its once-faded upholstery had been carefully cleaned and kept in decent condition. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it suited the humble little office perfectly.

Vermont didn’t sit right away.

Instead, he slowly scanned the room, taking in every corner without saying a word.

Therese watched him quietly.

There was something about the way he carried himself—calm, restrained, almost intimidating. Even with his face partly hidden beneath the black mask and his eyes concealed behind gray sunglasses, his presence seemed to fill the entire room.

Then Vermont finally spoke.

"I don’t like talking in private while the door is open.”

His voice was low and even, but there was an unmistakable authority behind it. Therese immediately glanced toward the open door.

"Oh."

She hurried to it and gently pushed it shut before returning to her seat.

As she sat down, she stole another glance at him.

What a mysterious man...

She couldn’t explain why, but being alone with him suddenly made her feel strangely uneasy.

And somehow, she had the unsettling feeling that beneath the mask and dark glasses, Mr. Octavian was watching her just as carefully as she was watching him.

"It’s an honor to finally meet you, Mr. Octavian.”

Therese offered him a polite smile, though there was a slight tremor in her voice.

"On behalf of Safe Haven Elderly Care Facility, I want to extend our deepest gratitude to you for being our benefactor. Since we established this facility, this is the first time we’ve ever received a donation of this magnitude. We truly don’t know how to thank you."

Vermont remained silent.

Slowly, he removed his gray sunglasses and placed them on the armrest.

His eyes settled on her.

For a brief moment, Therese felt something shift in the room.

"I was wondering, Sister Therese...”His voice was smooth, almost casual. “How did you end up becoming a nun?”

Therese blinked.

"Oh...”

She wasn’t expecting the question.

"I suppose...” She paused, searching for the right words. ”It was a calling, sir.”

"A calling.” Vermont repeated the words with a faint, humorless smile.

"How convenient,” he said sarcastically.

Therese looked at him.

He leaned back, crossing one ankle over the other.

"I’ve always found it interesting,” he continued, ”how people suddenly discover their calling when life doesn’t quite turn out the way they planned.”

He held her gaze for another second. Then his voice dropped. Therese couldn’t tell whether he was talking about her vocation or something else entirely.

She lowered her eyes.

The silence between them stretched.

Vermont watched her carefully, hiding the anger he can’t suppress burning beneath his calm expression.

Twenty years.

Twenty years since she had disappeared from his life.

And now she was sitting across from him, speaking as though they were complete strangers.

He wanted to ask her but he convinced himself that it’s just a waste of time. Maybe he was just curious about her explanation. But no need! He had everything now. Therese was nothing but a normal past acquaintance who held no more meaning in his present life.

"By the way, sir, I have something for you."

She walked toward a small wooden cabinet and opened one of the drawers.

"It’s just a simple token from Safe Haven. Nothing expensive." Vermont watched her from behind.

"I’m sure it’s priceless,” he murmured.

Therese glanced over her shoulder, unsure whether he was joking. She returned with a small wooden box in her hands.

"I know it has no monetary value," she said, placing it carefully before him. His fingers intentionally touched her hand.

Therese startled. His hand was electrifying.

"B-But I be-believe it may be useful someday. Especially in times of trouble,” she stuttered. Vermont saw how her skin reacted to him. It surely sent chills into her spine. He grinned.

Vermont looked down at the box. Then slowly back at her. A faint smile touched his lips.

"Times of trouble?”

His voice was soft. Almost amused.

"That sounds like a warning, Sister Therese.”

"Oh, no, sir. That’s not what I meant.”

"I know.”

He picked up the box and opened it slowly. Then he looked at her again.

Therese fell silent.

Vermont chuckled when he saw the rosary made of pearls inside it. Not cruel. Just bitterly amused.

"A rosary?” he murmured.

He lifted it between his fingers, letting the beads slide slowly through his hand.

After a moment, Vermont rose from his seat and leaned casually against the wall. His gaze found her once more.

But this time, there was something different in his eyes.

A quiet fire burned behind them—intense, restrained, and growing with every passing second.

He said nothing.

He simply stared at her, as though his eyes were carrying all the words he refused to speak.

Then, slowly, Vermont reached for the black mask covering the lower half of his face.

He pulled it down without a word.

Therese froze.

Her breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat as his face was finally revealed.

For a moment, she simply stared.

The years seemed to disappear.

The sharpness of his features had changed. The boy she remembered was gone, replaced by a man with a stronger jaw, a faint shadow of stubble, and eyes that carried years she couldn’t begin to understand.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.

"V-vermont-t...” she whispered.

He grinned evilly.

"Yes, my love. You owe me big time.”

=============================================

August 13, 2026

See you tomorrow

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