Three Days Later…
Francis's POV
"Daddy Francis, look! I made a drawing!"
Xai came running toward me, proudly holding up a paper with a drawing of a man and a woman standing side by side.
"Wow. Who are they, baby? You and your brother?" I teased, pinching her cheek until she giggled.
She shook her head. "No."
"Oh? Then who are they?" I asked, glancing at the drawing again.
"You and your girlfriend," she said innocently.
I froze for a second before bursting into laughter. "Baby Xai, where did you get that idea? Daddy Francis doesn't have a girlfriend."
She pouted. "But that girl we saw earlier—she's your girlfriend, right? She doesn't even talk to you formally! And she takes care of you, and me, and Kuya."
I smiled faintly. "No, baby. That's Auntie Gianna. She's not my girlfriend. She just takes care of us because that's her job. She works for me," I explained, though I could tell from her blank expression that she didn't understand a word I said. I chuckled softly.
"Never mind, forget it, okay?" I said, smiling as she nodded and went back to her seat.
"Oh, that's interesting…"
I turned toward the door and saw my cousin leaning casually against the frame, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.
"What?" I asked dryly.
He walked over and dropped beside me on the sofa.
"You know what? My daughter's got a point. Why don't you finally take my advice?" he said, eyeing me carefully.
I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "I already told you—no. I have no interest in her."
"There you go again," he sighed. "Why not try? It could be good for you. Maybe—just maybe—it'll work."
I gave him a skeptical look. "I said no, and I mean it. I don't like her. Not even a little—"
"I said try," he cut me off. "Just try, okay? I've been telling you this for weeks, Locan. Maybe she's the answer you've been looking for. Maybe she's the reason your world started to change. You said it yourself—she's the only one you can see in color, right? Even with your condition, she's the only thing that isn't gray. Don't you think that means something? Maybe there's a reason you met her. Maybe she's the key to your recovery."
I sighed deeply. "What if she's not what I need? What if I don't find my cure in her? What if—"
"Stop with your what-ifs," he interrupted. "Just listen to me, this once. Get close to her. Know her more. Spend time with her. Find your own answers. This is for your health, Locan. You told me yourself—when you're with her, your vision clears, and suddenly, things have color. Maybe being near her can heal you permanently."
"Carl, listen—"
"No, you listen," he snapped. "Just for one month, treat her as therapy. If nothing changes after that, then stop."
I turned to face him, frowning. "What exactly do you want me to do? Court her?"
"If that's what it takes—why not?" he said without hesitation.
I stared at him, stunned. "Seriously, Carl? I can't do that."
"It doesn't matter whether you like her or not. What matters is that you get better. The doctors can't fix you. Maybe she can."
I stood up, running a hand down my face. "You're insane."
"Maybe I am," he said quietly. "But I refuse to stand by and watch you go blind. You know your condition's getting worse, Locan. I won't just wait for that to happen. You have to try."
"Yeah, maybe being with her helps… but why would I have to use her?" I asked bitterly.
"You're not using her, you're just…" He sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Okay, fine—maybe you are, but only to help yourself heal. You want to get better, don't you? You're not using her for anything wrong. And you don't even have to court her. Just… stay close to her, no matter what."
"You know what, Carl? I have to go," I muttered, grabbing my keys and walking out.
I climbed into my car but didn't start it right away. His words kept echoing in my head.
> "Just for one month. If nothing changes, then stop."
Why her? Out of everyone in the world—why her?
What is it about you, Gianna?
Why can I see your color?
Can you really help me?
I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror.
All I saw was gray and black.
I glanced around—at the house, at the passing people, at the world outside the windshield—and everything looked the same: lifeless, colorless. I didn't even know what color the gate was, or what the strangers were wearing. My world was a dull grayscale.
Then the familiar sting hit the corner of my eyes. The sharp pain spread like fire through my head until I could barely breathe. My hands clenched the steering wheel.
> You want to get better, don't you?
Carl's words rang in my ears.
When I opened my eyes again, gasping, my phone was vibrating on the dashboard. Her name flashed on the screen.
Gianna.
The moment I saw it, the pain began to fade.
Because of her… only she could make me feel better.
With trembling hands, I answered the call.
"Yes? What do you want?" I asked calmly.
"Wrong number. Sorry!" she said quickly.
"Hey, wait—" I stopped her before she could hang up.
"Oh?" she replied, clearly uninterested. I still couldn't figure out what went on in that woman's head.
"How's the office?" I asked.
"It's still standing," she said flatly.
I sighed. "Can you answer seriously for once?"
"What? I'm telling the truth! The office is still standing. And where are you, by the way? Ms. Gada just scolded me again because you're unreachable! But hey, I did call you!"
I rubbed my temple. "Fine. I'll be there in thirty minutes."
"No need."
"What?"
"I said, drive safely, sir. Wouldn't want you crashing… oh wait—you're not the type to die easily anyway."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You're a stubborn weed, remember? You'll live a long, long time. Bye, sir!"
"You—hey!"
The line went dead.
"Damn it!" I slammed my hand against the steering wheel.
That woman really knows how to get on my nerves. I rubbed my nose and groaned.
Why did I even hire her as my secretary?
Damn it.