Chapter 45: The Drive Back
The drive back to Tondo felt very different from the drive to Quezon City.
When they had left earlier that afternoon, Angela spent most of the trip guessing where Richard intended to take them while their mother simply watched the city pass by outside the window. The atmosphere had been casual and familiar, the sort of ordinary family outing they had done countless times before.
The return trip was quiet.
Not uncomfortable quiet.
Thinking quiet.
Angela sat in the passenger seat staring out the window while their mother occupied the rear seat in silence. Neither seemed interested in asking questions immediately. Both were still processing what they had seen.
Richard understood.
Honestly, he was processing it too.
Seeing the condominium alone had felt different.
Seeing his family inside it had changed everything.
For the first time, the place had stopped feeling like real estate.
It had started feeling like home.
The city lights reflected against the windshield as they crossed into heavier traffic near Manila. Vehicles crawled forward beneath elevated roads while motorcycles squeezed through spaces that barely qualified as gaps. Vendors moved between lanes selling bottled water and snacks to motorists trapped by the evening rush.
Eventually, Angela broke the silence.
"So..." she said slowly.
Richard already knew that tone.
"So?"
She turned toward him.
"How much does that place cost?"
Straight to the dangerous questions.
Richard kept his eyes on the road.
"It’s expensive."
"That’s not a number."
"It has a lot of numbers."
Angela crossed her arms.
"Brother."
Their mother spoke from the back seat before Richard could answer.
"You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to."
Richard glanced at the rearview mirror.
His mother wasn’t looking at him.
She was looking outside the window.
That somehow made it harder.
"It’s around twenty-eight million."
The interior of the pickup became very quiet.
A jeepney horn blared somewhere outside.
Traffic moved another three meters forward.
Angela slowly turned toward him.
"Twenty-eight..."
She stopped.
Then started again.
"Twenty-eight million pesos?"
Richard nodded.
This time she didn’t speak.
His mother didn’t either.
Several moments passed before Angela finally found words again.
"Brother, that’s not expensive."
"That’s insane."
Richard laughed.
"Depends who you ask."
"I’m asking me."
He shook his head.
"Fair enough."
Angela looked out the window again.
"I don’t think I can even imagine twenty-eight million pesos."
"Neither could I."
The answer came more quietly than he intended.
Because it was true.
Not that long ago, twenty-eight thousand pesos would’ve been enough to keep their household running for weeks. Twenty-eight million belonged to another universe entirely.
Yet somehow, his life had crossed into that universe without him fully noticing when it happened.
His mother eventually spoke.
"Work is really doing that well?"
Richard hesitated.
He had expected the question eventually.
What surprised him was how gentle it sounded.
Not suspicious.
Not demanding.
Simply trying to understand.
He considered lying.
Something vague.
Something safe.
Instead, he chose something closer to the truth.
"The business has been doing better than expected."
His mother nodded slowly.
"The buy-and-sell?"
"Yes."
Angela immediately looked at him again.
"What exactly are you buying and selling?"
"Vehicles."
"I know that."
"No, you don’t."
She blinked.
Richard smiled.
"You know that I buy and sell vehicles."
"That’s different."
Angela pointed accusingly at him.
"You’re hiding details."
"I’m protecting trade secrets."
"You sound like a villain in a business drama."
Richard laughed.
Maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong.
The conversation faded again after that.
Not because there was nothing left to say.
Because there was too much.
By the time they reached Happyland, night had fully settled over the city.
Richard parked in his usual spot several streets away before the three of them walked home together beneath the yellow glow of streetlights.
The contrast hit harder this time.
Much harder.
The roads felt narrower.
The electrical wires looked lower.
The houses looked smaller.
Nothing had changed.
Not really.
Only perspective had changed.
Angela noticed it too.
He could tell.
She looked around several times during the walk home.
Not critically.
Not ungratefully.
Simply noticing things she had stopped noticing years ago.
The uneven roads.
The flooding marks on walls.
The exposed electrical lines.
The rusted roofing.
The things that became invisible after living with them long enough.
Once inside the house, his mother quietly prepared coffee while Angela sat at the table unusually silent.
That lasted approximately seven minutes.
Then curiosity won.
"So when were you planning to tell us you’re rich?"
Richard almost choked on his coffee.
"I’m not rich."
Angela stared at him.
"Brother."
"What?"
"You literally showed us a twenty-eight-million-peso condominium."
"I showed it to you."
"Normal people don’t casually show people twenty-eight-million-peso condominiums."
"Rich people probably do."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Are you rich?"
"No."
"Upper middle class?"
"No."
"Wealthy?"
"No."
Angela frowned.
"Then what are you?"
Richard considered it.
Honestly considered it.
The answer wasn’t simple anymore.
A year ago he would’ve answered immediately.
Poor.
Working class.
Trying to survive.
Now?
Now he owned a luxury dealership.
Employees.
Assets.
Inventory worth hundreds of millions.
Yet hearing those things out loud still felt like describing someone else.
"A businessman, I guess."
Angela stared at him.
"That’s the most suspicious answer you’ve ever given."
Their mother laughed quietly from the kitchen.
The sound caught Richard off guard.
Not because she laughed.
Because it sounded lighter than usual.
Less tired.
She eventually brought the coffee to the table and sat down beside them.
For several moments, nobody spoke.
Then she looked toward him.
"You know we don’t need a place like that."
Richard met her eyes.
"I know."
"We’re fine here."
That one hurt.
Because he knew she believed it.
Not because she preferred Happyland.
Because she had spent her entire life learning how to be content with whatever was available.
He leaned back slightly.
"Do you remember the flooding three years ago?"
His mother nodded.
Water had entered the house.
Furniture had been moved onto tables.
They had spent the night awake watching water levels rise.
"Do you remember the typhoon before that?"
Another nod.
"The roof leaked in three different places."
She smiled faintly.
"You fixed it with duct tape."
"It worked."
"For two weeks."
Richard smiled.
Then his expression softened.
"Ma, I know we’re okay here."
He looked around the room.
The walls.
The roof.
The fan spinning overhead.
The place that had protected them for years.
"But being okay isn’t the same as having better options."
She looked down at her coffee.
He continued.
"You spent years making sure Angela and I had what we needed."
Neither woman interrupted.
"I think it’s my turn now."
The room became quiet again.
This time his mother didn’t argue.
Didn’t insist they didn’t need it.
Didn’t say it was too much.
Instead, she looked around the house slowly.
As though seeing it the same way Richard had seen it the previous night.
Eventually she sighed.
"The view was nice."
Richard smiled.
"It was."
Angela immediately joined in.
"The bedroom near the windows is still mine."
Their mother rolled her eyes.
"We haven’t even decided anything."
"I’ve decided."
"You don’t get to decide alone."
"I called it first."
Richard laughed.
The argument continued for several minutes.
Which bedroom belonged to whom.
Where the television should go.
Whether the kitchen was big enough.
Whether the building allowed pets.
It was ridiculous.
Premature.
Entirely hypothetical.
And somehow...
It was perfect.
Because for the first time, they weren’t talking about whether moving was possible.
They were talking as if it might actually happen.
Later that night, after both of them had gone to sleep, Richard stepped outside again.
The neighborhood looked exactly the same as it had twenty-four hours earlier.
The same roads.
The same houses.
The same sounds.
Yet something felt different.
Not because he had changed.
Not because they had changed.
Because possibility had entered the conversation.
Real possibility.
Not dreams.
Not wishes.
Not someday.
Something tangible.
Something with an address.
He looked up toward the Manila skyline visible in the distance.
Somewhere out there stood a residential tower with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
A place his sister had already claimed a bedroom in.
A place his mother secretly liked despite pretending otherwise.
A place that might become home.
Richard slipped his hands into his pockets and smiled quietly to himself.
He still hadn’t decided whether he would buy the condominium.
But after today, he realized something important.
He wasn’t searching for a property anymore.
He was searching for the moment his family walked inside somewhere and immediately felt they belonged there.
And judging from the way Angela had argued over bedrooms and the way his mother kept talking about the kitchen on the drive home...
He might have already found it.