May 22, 2022 - 9:15PM

Aboard the yacht S.S. Argo,

Somewhere in the West Philippine Sea

MARISSE

He found her on the forward deck, leaning into the breeze, silhouetted against moonlight. Her hair moved like ink in water. Her stance still elegant…tired yet enduring.

The sight hit him like a memory.

Marisse approached slowly, giving her the illusion of space. “You always did prefer the bow. Even back then.”

She turned but didn’t move away. “Less noise.”

He stood beside her, close enough to share the wind. “Do you remember the last night we saw each other on that ship?”

A beat.

“Yes.” Her voice was low. “And no.”

He waited.

“I know you tried to warn my father,” she said at last, arms tight around her waist. “About that stalker. But no one ever caught him. No name. No arrest. No scandal.”

Marisse’s jaw tightened. “I couldn’t tell who it was. I just knew something was off.”

She exhaled. “At the time, I thought maybe… you made it up. To impress him. To protect me. I wasn’t sure. Not really. Until…”

“Until?”

“Until a week later. When I saw the news,” she said quietly. “A cabin steward was found murdered in one of the storage compartments. On the last night of the cruise. And everything clicked.” She glanced at him. “Villamor Cruise Line took a hit after that. Hard. We lost three investor bids. Only our cargo arm kept us above water.”

Marisse looked at her for a long, careful moment. “You won’t have to worry about that anymore. After the merger, RPV2 will absorb and elevate Villamor Logistics. You’ll never want for anything again.”

A sharp, sad smile tugged at her lips. “I’ve never needed much, Marisse. Just… a place to be mine. A small space in this world that didn’t come with a price tag.”

He swallowed, unprepared for the ache her honesty brought.

He wanted so much to tell her everything. About the camera, his chance to change the past. But as it is, he has already caused a ripple in time that has yet to be fully resolved by the heavens.

To get Rose involved with all that she is already going through would be too much, and he does not know how much she can be allowed to participate even.

Marisse has begun looking at this passing that he has gained to change his past with Rose as the venture capitalist that he is.

For like contracts, this passing has loopholes, so contingencies must be placed. And Marisse will use up everything that he has and all that he knows to make sure that Rose comes out of this venture alive, happy and safe…even if it means risking everything he has gained in this life---or the next.

“Why don’t we start with dinner then?” He offered her his hand, but Rose smiled and walked ahead instead.

They sat beneath a canopy of stars, a simple but elegant table set with grilled reef fish, garlic rice, mango chutney, and a bottle of aged Malbec.

They ate slowly. Unrushed. Between bites and sips, the past began to unravel like silk between their fingers.

Marisse carefully kept the conversation casual. Of things they both liked, but was never able to share. They spoke of art. Of how Rose always saw color in sound. Of how Marisse believed silence was where truth lived.

They discussed books, the cruelty of Manila traffic, and why caviar was overrated.

And it was in those quiet pockets of shared thoughts and unfinished sentences that something began to settle. To connect as they talked between bites.

About the weight of legacy. The architecture of loneliness. Why people like them, driven and burdened, always seemed to mistake control for safety.

“You know what I envy about you?” Rose asked suddenly, pouring wine into their glasses.

“What?”

“You chose yourself,” she said. “You broke away, carved your own space. Me? I’ve always just... adjusted.”

Marisse shook his head. “You adapted. That takes more strength.”

They sat in silence for a beat.

Then she spoke again, softer this time. “So, what’s the plan, Rickarte?”

He sat straighter, voice now edged with strategy.

“You’ll board a ship at dawn,” he said. “It’s disguised as a dry cargo freighter headed for open sea. Off the West Philippine coast, it reroutes. Indonesian registry. New name, fresh documents. From there, we build a new foundation.”

Rose frowned. “And what happens to me after that?”

“You disappear. Safely. Cleanly.”

“And you?” she asked, voice barely audible.

“I stay,” he said. “I have more threads to cut.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “You’re still trying to fix the past.”

“No,” Marisse said, standing. “I’m trying to make sure the past doesn’t win.”

By the end of the meal, the moon had begun to rise higher, and for the first time in a long time, they weren’t running from their pasts.
They were remembering who they had been…
And who they might still become.

******

11:15 PM – Fortune Island, Nasugbu, Batangas

Private Dock, Grecian Ruins, Cliffside Walkway

The yacht moored at a secluded pier of black wood, hidden beneath heavy vines and mist-laced banyan trees. Beyond it, a winding path of volcanic stone led through candle-lit flora and into a sun-washed villa tucked into the edge of the island cliffs.

Rose stepped onto the landing, stunned into stillness.

“This…” she turned in a slow circle, awe threading her voice, “...is beautiful.”

Marisse said nothing. The look in his eyes was answer enough.

“You must’ve impressed a lot of women with this place,” she said with a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He stopped walking and turned to her. “I’ve never brought anyone else here.”

She blinked.

Silence settled between them again, but this time, it was softer.

The breeze was colder now, coming off the sea with a sharper bite, pulling Rose’s hair around her face like silk threads in a storm. The moon cast ghost-light over the marble columns, each ruin standing like a myth long forgotten. In that silence, footsteps echoed like the old rhythm of two people who once knew how to move beside each other.

Marisse led her up the weathered steps. They didn’t speak at first. They just stood; two silhouettes caught between stone and ocean.

“You remember this place?” Marisse asked, his voice lower than the wind.

Rose hesitated. “I do now.”

He turned to her slowly. “This ruin was the highlight of that cruise... the ship docked here. We had three hours of island leave. I wanted to show you this place then. But... you never replied to any of my messages.”

“I was scared,” she admitted quietly. “Scared I’d believe you. Scared I’d want something I wasn’t allowed to want.”

Marisse didn’t look away. “I was scared too. That you wouldn’t see me, not really. Not beneath the uniform.”

“But I did,” she said. “Even then.”

A pause stretched between them, soft and brittle.

Marisse walked toward one of the broken colonnades and sat. He wanted to tell her of the past he shared with Rose in this place. The past when they had a chance to admit what they felt for each other. The same past that would not have allowed the present Rose to be there with him right at that very moment.

The past where she died on the last day of their cruise…but how could he?

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Rickarte.” Rose looked up at him knowingly and Marisse forced a smile. “No, don’t give me that rigged smile of yours…Talk to me.”

His breath hitched as the familiar longing to connect with her like he used to gripped at his heart. “What I wouldn’t give to tell you the truth, Rose…” he sighed instead.

“Talk to me, Rickarte…” Rose urged him and so Marisse told her what he can.

“I’ve dreamt about sharing this place with you. Like time let me rewrite what mattered.”

Rose tilted her head, curious and wary. “What was the dream about?”

“That you came here---with me,” he said, eyes distant. “That we walked through these ruins. That you kissed me before getting back on the ship.”

Her breath caught.

“But that was a lie,” he continued. “A wish I burned into the truth.”

Rose looked at him for a long time, her voice barely a whisper. “What would you have done differently, Marisse? Back then, if you could do it again?”

He stood and stepped toward her. “I wouldn’t have waited for your reply. I would’ve come to you. I would’ve dragged you off that ship if I had to. I would’ve told your father to his face that I loved you. That you weren’t a prize to hide or protect or lock away. That you were always more than any of them dared to deserve.”

Tears welled in her eyes but didn’t fall. “And now?”

“Now?” he said, holding her gaze. “I remember this moment by heart. In case I get to go back again. In case I get to rewrite it for real.”

She looked away then. Vulnerable. Uncertain. “You always had your future written in fire. Mine was written for me.”

“You still have time to change it.”

Rose sighed, letting silence nest in her chest. “If you’d said that ten years ago, I might’ve believed it.”

Marisse leaned in, voice steady. “What should I have said, Rose? Back then... What could I have done that would’ve made you believe me?”

Her answer came slow, raw. “You should’ve made me choose.”

He stilled.

“I was already halfway in love with you. But I needed someone to ask me. To demand something of me that I wasn’t sure I deserved. I would’ve chosen you, if you'd just asked me to decide for me.” Her voice shook at the last word

Marisse let the words sit in the night air like prophecy. He memorized every syllable.

Because he wasn’t done with time just yet.

“We have to pass through the beach onto the docks on the other side of the island. A jeep is waiting for us at the foot of this hill.”

Marisse offered his hand to her again and this time Rose took it.

“Will I never see you again after tonight?” she asked.

“I need to make sure you’ll be safe first, so run now. I’ll find you later.” he promised, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

They didn’t kiss.

But something deeper passed between them.

The promise of a future untold.

*******