"Ang hindi marunong lumingon sa pinanggalingan ay hindi makakarating sa paroroonan." (Those who do not look back to where they came from will not make it to their destination.)

– Jose Rizal

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Lee Jong Hee

"ABEGAIL." Kneeling before her, I let my words weave through the air, each syllable carrying the weight of my emotions. From the depths of my pocket, I retrieved a small wooden box that had nestled there for what felt like an eternity. With careful anticipation, I unlatched its secrets.

As the lid parted, a quiet creak mingled with the subtle gasp that escaped her lips. Inside, nestled in the embrace of worn velvet, lay a symbol of promises kept and moments treasured. Her eyes, alight with a mixture of surprise and joy, glistened with tears that traced a delicate path down her rosy cheeks. In that shared moment, the unspoken language of the heart unfolded, painting a canvas of emotions too profound for mere words.

"Will you make me the happiest man in the world and say 'I do'?"

A rapid percussion echoed within my chest, the heartbeat's crescendo matching the intensity of the unfolding moment. An icy grip tightened around me, creeping from my head down, as tendrils of fear slithered through my veins. The world seemed to hush, amplifying the symphony of my escalating heartbeat, each pulse echoing the rising tide of apprehension.

Abegail's coffee brown eyes held the weight of an impending decision, and I waited with bated breath for her choice to materialize. Silence lingered, and in those suspended moments, she bestowed a smile that sent shivers down my spine, a prelude to the impending revelation.

Her smile, though, didn't immediately unveil her decision, casting a web of uncertainty over my senses. I could feel the rhythmic dance of her breath, rising and falling like a gentle tide, as she maintained her poised stillness, smile intact.

Then, a triumphant "YES!" broke the quietude, accompanied by the remnants of drying tears on her cheeks. The urgency in me surged as I rose swiftly, revealing the small box harboring a luminescent ring beneath the moonlit night.

The ring sparkled, capturing the full moon's radiance, as I delicately slid it onto her waiting finger. A surge of happiness coursed through me, manifesting in a sincere smile and a tight embrace. Despite the inadequacy of words, my gratitude overflowed, cascading into tears.

In that transformative moment, I acknowledged that this woman, adorned with the ring of commitment, was irreplaceable. My gaze, now shifted, embraced the cityscape beyond the bridge, a silent witness to the beginning of our forever.

"3, 2, 1! Happy New Year!" echoed in jubilant harmony, a cacophony of unbridled joy that resonated in the air.

Suddenly, the night transformed as fireworks erupted, gracefully ascending into the heavens. Each burst painted the dark sky with vibrant hues, a celestial dance of bright and radiant lights. The symphony of celebration unfolded with the lively tunes of trumpets and the rhythmic collision of utensils.

In the midst of the spectacle, the weight of the moment settled upon me, an awareness that this instance was irreplaceable. The sheer magnitude of joy encapsulated the essence of what could only be described as the greatest day of my life.

.

AMIDST the vibrant fireworks, the clapperboard's decisive clap cut through the celebratory air, signaling a pause in the dramatic spectacle. As the echoes of "Cut!" reverberated, our director, Mister Albert De Guzman, emerged from behind, marking the end of my theatrical charade.

A woman with a ponytail and a slender frame approached, presenting a cup of coffee. As my fingers wrapped around the warm vessel, she blushed, her cheeks tinted pink. "Here's your coffee," she uttered, and I responded with a nod of gratitude, my eyes returning to the script before me.

"감사합니다Gamsahabnida (Thank you)," I acknowledged in Korean, engrossed in the lines that awaited my delivery. A playful voice interrupted my focus, prompting me to look up. "Will you not greet your girlfriend a happy new year?" she teased, her words carrying a hint of mischief.

Setting the coffee aside, my gaze shifted to the girl with long hair. "Or should I say, your future fiancée?" she added. The truth lingered – she wasn't someone I desired as a girlfriend; rather, a reluctant partnership orchestrated by my mother for the sake of corporate alliances.

"Nice scene, Mr. Lee! Nice!" As the director praised my performance, tapping my back with approval, I nodded in acknowledgment, masking the internal conflict with a practiced smile.

"Pudrakels, hellow (Daddy, hello: in slang) !" My gaze drifted towards the source of the words, revealing the Filipino actress embodying Abegail de Viejo. Rising gracefully from her chair, she enveloped the director in a sweet, genuine embrace, the warmth of camaraderie radiating between them.

"Pa, 'wag kang magugulat sa tanong ko (Pa, don't be surprised for what I will ask you)," she uttered, the words hanging in the air. Suddenly, a wide smile bloomed across her face, a radiant expression of gratitude and joy that illuminated the room.

"Maganda ba ang pag-arte ko? Goods ba? Siguro mala-hollywood na ang arte ng besshy mo papa (Was my acting alright? Is it good? I think my acting is just like a Hollywood material)."

Being Korean, the nuances of their native Filipino language eluded me, but English, a gift from my American upbringing under my mother's care, was a bridge of understanding.

"Fine! I won't disturb you... for now," the woman declared, her words carrying a touch of finality as she gracefully stepped away.

Turning my attention back to the set, I approached the scene where our Filipino director engaged in conversation with the actress I collaborated with, the dynamics of their discussion unfolding like a silent dance. "Siyempre naman, anak (Of course, my daughter)! That's why Papa is very proud of you," Mister de Guzman's responsed. His face manifested in a radiant smile, its warmth eclipsing the need for spoken words.

"Asus... Pa, dagdagan mo talent fee ko (Geez... Pa, raise my talent fee)," she answered.

What's wrong with her talent fee?

"Ngayong kailangan na lamang ng isa pang scene bago matapos na ang film natin sa wakas at lilipad na tayo sa Korea. May regalo ako sa inyo mamaya na talaga namang magugustuhan ninyo (Now we only need one scene to finish our film before we will go to Korea. I have a gift for you later that I'm sure you would really love)," the director uttered, once again giving a smile towards the woman.

"Ano po yun, Pa? Kotse ba o yung maagang pagtanggap ng sweldo po namin (What's that, Pa? A car or our early bonus)?" the girl inquired, her playful tone hinting at a sense of anticipation and humor. "Chararat lang. Pa, pero seryoso dagdag sweldo naman oh (Just a joke. Pa, but seriously, please raise our bonuses)."

"Makikita mo na lang mamaya, Anak (You'll see later, my daughter)," replied Mr. de Guzman. "Magready ka na sa finale. May binago ako sa script, baka hindi niyo pa nabasa (Get ready for the finale. I rewrote some scenes on the script that needs your rereading)."

Those became her parting words for the night before he turned, striding away toward the other staff members. Across the set, Marianne settled onto a monoblock chair, her focus on the script before her. Intrigued, I mirrored her actions, retrieving the script to ensure my lines were accurate.

As my eyes scanned the pages, my lower lip caught between my teeth, a silent contemplation of the newly printed words. "A murder scene? But weren't the characters supposed to kiss here before heading to Korea?" I questioned, startled by the unexpected change.

One of the staff members responded, "Yes, Sir. The director requested a script revision."

"O! 그러니까 이건 비극적인 이야기야 Geuleonikka igeon bigeugjeog-in iyagiya (So this is a tragic story)," I gasped, grabbing the coffee once more. The liquid touched my lips as I tilted the bottle, but my focus remained on the haunting words. Unaware of the beverage's temperature, a sudden "Ahh!" escaped as the hot coffee stung my tongue.

"Focus, Jong! Focus!" I whispered, placing the coffee back on the table. As I lifted my arm, the papers scattered into the air.

"Seriously?" I groaned, rising from the chair, my eyes fixed on the airborne sheets. Just as I reached for them, a drop in temperature caught my attention.

Tiny hairs on my arms stood erect, shivers running down my spine in response to the cold night breeze. In an instant, a scene flashed before my eyes-me standing in the dark, a force pulling me towards the ground, breath catching.

"Jong." I snapped back to reality, a weight on my shoulder. Gasping for breath, shivers lingered. "Are you okay?"

Inhaling deeply, I regained composure as the director stood before me. "Yes, Sir," I replied with a smile.

"Great!" he exclaimed. "We'll be starting again soon. Get ready now." With a tap on my back, he walked away, the haunting vision dissipating as he disappeared into the crowd.

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