Chapter 9: Unexpected

Today was the day our entire class, under Professor Reyes, would conduct health assessments and examinations on the animals at the PAWS Animal Rehabilitation Center in Quezon City.

Everyone was supposed to take the school bus, but I decided to drive instead. I had somewhere I wanted to pass by first.

I dressed simply: a white polo shirt paired with black cargo pants, and I slipped my ID lanyard around my neck. I sprayed on my usual perfume, grabbed my phone, slung my bag over my shoulder, and brought along the reference book I’d been reading for this activity.

I took the elevator down to the building’s basement garage. Pressing the key fob, the lights of my BMW X3 M40i flashed in response. I opened the back door and tossed my bag inside, then slid into the driver’s seat. After buckling my seatbelt, I connected my phone to the car’s audio system and scrolled through my playlist until I found it.

My fingers paused when I saw the title: Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls.

A small smile tugged at my lips. “Perfect,” I whispered, then hit play.

The familiar guitar intro filled the car. Before long, I was singing along softly, my hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

“And I’d give up forever to touch you…”

The words slipped out as memories flooded my mind.

“Because I know that you feel me somehow…”

My eyes stayed on the road, but my thoughts drifted elsewhere. Every lyric felt too personal, too raw.

“You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be… and I don’t want to go home right now.”

I could still taste that night—the way he smiled, the look in his eyes, how everything felt right even when it shouldn’t.

“And I don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause I don’t think that they’d understand…”

The car moved forward, headlights cutting through the morning light, while I sang because I needed to, not because I wanted to.

“When everything’s made to be broken…”

My voice cracked slightly.

“I just want you to know who I am.”

By the time the song ended, the car fell silent again. But inside me, everything felt messy and unsettled.

I made a quick stop at the Starbucks drive-thru where Ethan worked.

“Good morning! Welcome to Starbucks. What can I get for you?”

The cheerful female voice made my smile disappear instantly. I let out a quiet sigh.

“Uh, caramel macchiato, grande,” I said flatly.

After a pause, I leaned closer to the speaker. “Miss, quick question—is Ethan on duty today?”

She hesitated. “Oh, Ethan? No, sir. He’s off every Saturday.”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Ah, okay. Thank you.”

I paid, collected my coffee, and drove away. This time, I didn’t play any music.

I arrived at the PAWS center exactly at 10 a.m. Most of my classmates were already lined up outside. I quietly joined the end of the line.

“Lucas, did you review?” Jade, one of my classmates, asked.

I shook my head. “No need. It’s all basic stuff, dude.”

She laughed. “You said that last time too, and you still failed.”

I lightly smacked the back of her head. “Shut up, idiot.”

“Everyone, let’s head inside,” Professor Reyes called out.

I held my notebook as we entered the center. The staff greeted us warmly, all wearing green uniforms with the PAWS logo embroidered on the chest. We greeted them back almost in unison.

The air inside carried a faint scent of disinfectant mixed with the smell of animals. It was clean, but you could still feel the presence of the creatures living there. I stayed quiet as we were given a tour. Along the hallways were rows of cages housing cats and dogs—some lying quietly, others eagerly seeking attention.

After the orientation, we were divided into four groups. I ended up with the group assigned to the dogs. That was fine with me—I’ve always loved dogs. Mom never allowed me to keep one, though. I never understood why, but I stopped asking. It wouldn’t change anything.

As we entered the dog area, a chorus of barks greeted us. I felt a strange mix of excitement and heaviness in my chest.

Our group had eight members: Mark, Catherine, Jade, Amiel, Airand, Kyle, and our class president, Patrick. We weren’t doing a joint task; each of us had to assess individual animals.

I scanned the kennels until my eyes landed on one dog that looked so frail it hurt to see him. His ribs and spine protruded sharply beneath his skin, and his fur was patchy and dull. Every movement seemed to cost him effort and pain.

I put on my synthetic gloves and approached his cage slowly. “Hey, buddy,” I said softly. “It’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you.”

The dog looked up at me, wary, his tail tucked between his legs. His eyes were tired but still held a spark of life. Somehow, that made it worse.

I crouched down to his level. “You’re so thin,” I murmured.

A nearby staff member told me his name was Peter. Hearing it sent a sharp pang through my chest. There was something heavy about that simple name.

I began the examination gently, my hand hovering before making contact. “Shh… good boy,” I whispered when he flinched. “I won’t hurt you.”

Peter’s ribs, spine, and pelvic bones were clearly visible—classic signs of prolonged malnutrition. I noted everything carefully in my notebook, though my hand trembled slightly. His skin was thickened and dry, dotted with small lesions. He had patchy alopecia, likely mange complicated by a secondary infection.

He carried a faint smell of medicine and something metallic, like old wounds.

“You’re so brave,” I said quietly. “Still wagging your tail even in this condition.” I extended my gloved hand, letting him sniff it. When his nose brushed against it, I managed a small, helpless smile.

Despite his weakness, he stayed alert, his eyes following my every move. That kind of quiet resilience… it was something only animals like him seemed to possess.

I wrote down my findings:

\- Prolonged malnutrition

\- Patchy alopecia

\- Thickened skin with lesions

\- Suspected mange with secondary infection

\- Signs of dehydration

My recommendations included a full diagnostic workup—CBC, biochemistry panel, fecal analysis, skin scraping, and fungal culture—along with fluid therapy, gradual refeeding, and parasite control.

But the longer I wrote, the heavier my chest felt. I knew Peter wasn’t the only one. Behind me stretched rows of cages, each holding its own story of neglect.

I took a deep breath and closed my notebook for a moment. “You’ll be okay soon, Peter,” I whispered. “Someone’s going to take care of you this time. I promise.”

He blinked at me, then rested his head on his paws as if he understood.

When I finally stood up and removed my gloves, the weight of the place pressed down on me. I handed my assessment sheet to Professor Reyes, who nodded with a faint smile.

I couldn’t stay inside any longer. I knew this was part of our training as future veterinarians—to witness pain, understand it, and learn how to heal it—but seeing it up close was different.

I walked out of the center and headed straight to my car. The moment I closed the door, I just sat there. No music. No phone. Just silence.

Half an hour later, a knock on my window made me flinch. It was Patrick, our class president.

“We need you inside,” he said, his breath fogging the glass slightly. “Group picture.”

He didn’t wait for a reply—just smiled and walked back in.

I sat there a few moments longer, listening to the quiet hum of the air conditioner, before finally opening the door.

After the photos were taken, I didn’t stay much longer. I took a quick shower, changed my clothes, and left the center.

Tomorrow was my birthday. I needed to go home and help with the final preparations. Most of the guests were Mom and Dad’s business friends, so I left the planning to them. I had no complaints. As long as the day went smoothly, I was fine.

The moment I stepped inside the house, I saw Mom in the living area, giving instructions to the maids who were busy setting up decorations. Some were arranging balloons near the staircase, while others worked by the pool outside.

The entire house was decorated in shades of blue, black, and white—ribbons on the railings, elegant table settings. Classy, minimalist, and very much Mom’s style.

She stopped when she noticed me standing by the door. “Lucas…” she called softly, then walked over and pulled me into a hug.

I hugged her back. “Hi, Mom.”

“Do you like the decorations, son? Or do you want to add anything?” she asked, probably noticing how my eyes scanned the setup.

“It’s good, Mom. I like it,” I said, forcing a small smile. Decorations were the least of my concerns right now.

“I’ll head upstairs,” I added, kissing her forehead before walking away.

I felt exhausted. My body was heavy, and for some reason, so was my chest. I didn’t have any major problems, but I still felt completely drained—emotionally and physically.

There was still no word from Angela. I didn’t know if Ethan would come tomorrow, but I tried not to think about it. If he showed up, great. If not, I’d survive. Again.

I was halfway up the stairs when I noticed movement on the second floor. My brows furrowed when I saw Yohan stepping out of one of the rooms.

That wasn’t the guest room. And what was he doing here? He rarely came to our house unless the whole group was invited.

Before I could say anything, Kuya Dave followed right behind him—from the same room.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

Yohan froze the moment he saw me. My hand flew to my mouth, but it was too late—they had already spotted me.

“Oh,” I said, crossing my arms and tilting my head, trying not to laugh. “You’re here, bro? You didn’t tell me.”

Yohan scratched the back of his neck, clearly nervous. “Ah, Tita called me. She needed help with something.”

“Help?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “In Kuya’s room?” I turned to Dave, who looked tense, his jaw slightly clenched.

“Why were you two in the room together?” I asked, trying to sound casual. Then, with a teasing grin, I added, “Should I tell your boyfriend, Kuya?”

“Actually, Yohan is—”

Before Kuya could finish, Yohan cut him off.

“Tita just asked us to carry something heavy and put it in this room, so we were together,” Yohan said quickly.

I glanced at Kuya, who looked momentarily shocked by Yohan’s explanation. He quickly walked away, leaving the two of us.

I just laughed and headed to my own room. Honestly, I was too tired to keep teasing them. The moment I lay down on my bed, sleep pulled me under almost instantly.

I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. Groaning, I reached for it with half-closed eyes.

Angela’s name flashed on the screen. I answered.

“Lucas?” Her voice came through, soft but tired.

I let out a quiet hum in response.

“About your request for your gift…” She hesitated. “Ethan declined. I’m sorry, Lucas. I really tried, but he said he has something to do.”

My hand froze in midair.

For a few seconds, I didn’t say anything. Then the call ended—maybe I hung up, maybe she did. I wasn’t sure.

I tossed the phone somewhere near the pillows and grabbed the nearest one, burying my face in it.

I didn’t know why I felt like crying, but I held it back. For a moment, I just… stopped feeling anything.

Maybe I should have expected it. Maybe it was my fault for hoping he’d come. If it were Angela’s birthday, he probably would have shown up without hesitation.

But mine? It felt unlikely.

Yeah… I guess not everyone is meant to come when you wish they would.