Chapter 43: Now for Inquiry
The following Saturday, Richard did something that would have sounded absurd to the version of himself from a year earlier.
He went looking for a home.
Not another investment opportunity. Not inventory for resale or another expansion project for Phoenix Auto Trading. For the first time since his life had changed, he spent an entire day searching for something much simpler and somehow much more difficult to define.
A place that felt like home.
The distinction mattered more than he expected.
Earlier in the week, he had bookmarked several properties around Metro Manila and arranged viewings throughout the day. Armed with a notebook, a tablet, and far more free time than he usually allowed himself, Richard left the dealership shortly after breakfast and headed toward Quezon City.
The first property sat inside a gated subdivision lined with mature trees and neatly maintained hedges. The broker waiting outside greeted him enthusiastically before leading him through a two-story house with polished wooden floors, oversized windows, and enough open space to make every footstep echo faintly against the walls.
Objectively, it was beautiful.
The house had four bedrooms, a landscaped garden, a large kitchen, a private office, and a garage that could comfortably fit three vehicles. It was exactly the sort of place magazines loved to feature under headlines about successful young entrepreneurs and modern family living.
Twenty minutes later, Richard already knew he wasn’t buying it.
The house felt too large for the three of them. The silence inside seemed unnatural somehow, as though the place had been designed to be admired rather than lived in. He tried imagining his mother sitting in the living room while watching her favorite afternoon shows. He tried imagining Angela occupying one of the upstairs bedrooms with books scattered across the desk and notes taped to the walls.
For some reason, the images never quite fit.
The broker eventually mistook his hesitation for concern over pricing.
"We can negotiate, sir. The owner is very flexible."
Richard smiled politely.
"It isn’t the price."
The answer visibly surprised the broker. Most buyers looking at houses in that price range spent the entire viewing discussing financing options, discounts, and payment schedules.
Richard had barely asked about the price at all.
The second property produced much the same result.
This one sat in San Juan and came with a rooftop terrace overlooking portions of the city skyline. The interior looked as though it had been copied directly from an architecture magazine, complete with imported finishes, custom furniture, and decorations that looked expensive enough to make touching them feel irresponsible.
Again, he was impressed.
Again, it didn’t feel like home.
By lunchtime, Richard found himself sitting alone inside a coffee shop while reviewing his notes.
The first house had been beautiful but felt too large for their family.
The second had an excellent location but somehow felt impersonal.
The third sat inside a pleasant neighborhood but came with traffic conditions that would make daily commuting feel like punishment.
He rubbed his forehead.
Apparently buying a home was considerably harder than buying a dealership.
His phone buzzed on the table.
One of his sales consultants had sent him a message.
Sir, the client for the black LX600 confirmed tomorrow’s appointment.
Richard sent a quick reply before slipping the phone back into his pocket.
Oddly enough, his thoughts drifted toward a conversation he had with a customer several months earlier. The client had mentioned living in a condominium somewhere in BGC and had spent nearly twenty minutes talking about the convenience of never having to worry about maintenance, security, or flooding.
At the time Richard hadn’t paid much attention.
Now the memory resurfaced.
A condominium.
He opened another browser tab.
Luxury condominiums in Quezon City.
The search results appeared almost instantly.
Richard slowly raised an eyebrow.
That wasn’t a bad idea at all.
He had spent so much time thinking about houses that condominiums had never seriously entered the conversation. The more he considered it, the more practical it sounded. Security was handled professionally. Maintenance wasn’t his responsibility. Floodwater during typhoons wasn’t something they would have to prepare for. Neither was leaking roofs or neighbors deciding to hold karaoke marathons until two in the morning.
The convenience alone was difficult to ignore.
An hour later, Richard found himself standing inside the lobby of a residential tower in Quezon City.
The contrast with Happyland felt almost surreal.
Marble floors stretched across the reception area while quiet instrumental music drifted from speakers hidden somewhere overhead. Uniformed security personnel stood near the entrance while residents moved through electronic access gates with the kind of casual familiarity that came from taking safety for granted.
The air smelled faintly of coffee and fresh flowers.
The broker leading him toward the elevators smiled.
"This is one of our larger units, sir."
Several moments later, the elevator doors opened onto one of the upper floors.
Richard stepped inside the unit and stopped.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across almost the entire living room, offering an uninterrupted view of Metro Manila. Roads wound between clusters of buildings while traffic moved steadily below like streams of red and white lights flowing through the city.
From up here, Manila looked completely different.
For several moments, he simply stood there looking out over it.
The broker immediately mistook his silence for interest in the amenities.
"Twenty-four-hour security, sir. We also have backup generators, a swimming pool, gym facilities, function rooms, and direct access to commercial establishments downstairs."
Richard barely heard him.
Instead, he walked through the unit slowly.
The kitchen was modern without feeling excessive. The living room felt spacious without becoming wasteful. There were three bedrooms and two parking slots, enough space for a family without making the place feel empty.
More importantly, for the first time all day, he could actually picture them here.
He could imagine his mother cooking in the kitchen while insisting she didn’t need help before immediately asking someone to chop vegetables for her. He could already picture Angela claiming the bedroom nearest the windows before anyone else had the chance to object.
Weekend dinners.
Television playing quietly in the background.
Arguments over what movie to watch.
His mother reminding both of them not to leave dishes in the sink.
The image came naturally.
Effortlessly.
For the first time that day, the place felt lived in before anyone had even moved in.
His attention drifted back toward the windows.
Rain.
For some reason, his thoughts immediately went to rain.
Back in Happyland, heavy rain meant checking drainage outside the house, moving belongings higher, watching water levels rise, and quietly wondering whether flooding would arrive this time or spare them for another year.
Here, people probably watched storms through the windows while drinking coffee.
The difference felt almost unfair.
Eventually, the broker handed him the pricing sheet.
Twenty-eight million pesos.
Fully furnished.
Ready for occupancy.
Several months earlier, that number would have represented something impossible.
Today, it represented a decision.
Nothing more.
The realization still felt strange.
The broker studied him carefully.
"You don’t need to decide immediately, sir."
Richard looked up.
"Do many people buy units like this?"
"Usually executives, doctors, business owners, or families returning from overseas."
Richard nodded slowly.
That somehow felt appropriate.
He walked toward the windows one final time.
Somewhere below sat Phoenix Auto Trading.
Somewhere beyond the skyline sat Happyland.
Two entirely different worlds separated by only a few kilometers and an impossible distance in experience.
And somehow he belonged to both of them.
"So what do you think, sir?" the broker finally asked.
Richard smiled slightly.
"I think this is the first place today that actually feels right."
The broker brightened immediately.
"Would you like to reserve the unit?"
Richard laughed softly.
"Not yet."
He wanted his mother to see it first.
He wanted Angela to stand in front of those windows and look out over the city.
Most importantly, he wanted them to choose too.
Because this wasn’t really a gift.
It was their home.
And they deserved a voice in deciding where that home would be.
As the elevator doors closed behind him, Richard glanced back toward the unit one final time.
For the first time since beginning his search, excitement outweighed uncertainty.
Maybe the answer had never been a house with a garden and a three-car garage.
Maybe what his family needed wasn’t land or status.
Maybe what they needed was peace.
A place where rain wasn’t a source of anxiety.
A place where studying didn’t compete with karaoke speakers from neighboring houses.
A place where his mother could finally stop worrying every time dark clouds gathered over Manila.
Richard slipped his hands into his pockets and smiled quietly to himself.
For the first time since beginning his search, home no longer felt like an abstract idea.
It had an address.
A view.
And floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city they had spent their entire lives trying to survive in.