A gain from the dead is repaid by death.
Bartolome “Barto” Zelas and Jerry Adayano were cousins – their mothers were sisters, members of the Legaspi family. But the two felt no comfort in each other’s presence when they met that morning for two reasons.
First, they were at the Nagcarlan Public Cemetery to visit one of their aunts, Tita Marinella, who died from stroke just forty days ago and was buried next to their mothers. In line with tradition, they wore black and offered prayers over her grave on the fortieth day after her death, all to commemorate her. Second, the two of them were to discuss an important matter by themselves.
As Barto was about to head to his motorcycle after the prayers over Tita Marinella’s grave, Jerry suddenly blocked his path. “We need to talk,” Jerry said in an almost threatening tone. Barto gulped nervously and followed Jerry away from their other relatives.
“What’s this about, cous?” Barto asked.
“You know damn well what this is about,” Jerry said angrily, trying to keep his voice down. “You owe me money. You know, the money you used as downpayment for that stupid motorcycle of yours.”
“That’s not a stupid motorcycle,” Barto answered defensively.
“It is when you know you have more important expenses you need to pay! Like your rent and your electric and water bills!”
“That’s none of your business.” Barto snapped.
“It’s my business when it’s my money you’re using! Twenty thousand, damn you!” Jerry almost shouted. As he took a deep breath to calm down, Barto tried to defuse him.
“Look, I borrowed the money, and I’ll pay it back with the money I make from the business venture me and my associates are working on. That’s all you need to know.”
“What I do know is that you don’t have a business venture or associates, you have a lottery addiction!!! What I know is that you did not use that money to pay for your rent or utilities! What I know is that you did use my money to try to impress that girlfriend of yours with that stupid motorcycle and who knows what else!”
Barto sighed. He should have known better than posting pictures of him and his girlfriend Chelsea Veguillas on his motorcycle on his social media account. “I’ll pay you the money next week-“
“YOU BETTER, IF YOU DON’T WANT ME TO FORGET THAT WE’RE COUSINS!!!!” Jerry shouted, unable to contain himself. He then stormed away, leaving Barto alone.
Once Jerry was gone, Barto walked with heavy feet back to his motorcycle. He couldn’t even make himself look at Jerry’s direction so he looked the other way. As he focused his gaze in the other direction, something caught his attention: a bright, shiny object on one of the tombstones. He moved closer to have a better look.
It was a small, antique, silver pocket watch, complete with chain. Although it showed the year, month, day, hours, minutes, and seconds, it stopped telling time long ago. There was nothing written on it to indicate its owner.
Barto figured that someone must have visited the grave of the owner of the pocket watch and left the pocket watch out of sentiment. He looked at the grave and could only read the name: Stacy Larcano. Figuring that the dead owner won’t be needing the pocket watch anymore, he decided to steal it. He looked stealthily left and right to make sure no one was looking, then snatched the pocket watch.
Finders keepers, he thought as he hurried back to his motorcycle. Once on the seat, he started the motorcycle up and drove away.
* * *
The drive back to his apartment in Murphy, Cubao, Quezon City, was long, boring, and exhausting. Even though it was a Saturday, traffic was heavy that night. He had to take a lot of shortcuts to avoid the traffic jams, but by doing so, he inadvertently made the trip longer. It was already night when he made it back to Quezon City.
At some point, he reached a quiet two-lane street somewhere between Eulogio Rodriguez Sr. Avenue and Aurora Boulevard. Assuming that the street was empty, he increased speed so he could return home quickly. It was because of his increased speed that he didn’t see the girl…
She came into view when he was a few feet from her. At that distance and in his speed, he couldn’t avoid her and ended up hitting her. The impact made him fall off the motorcycle, too. Before slipping to consciousness, he wondered who the girl was and what she was doing in the middle of the road that night…
When he woke up, it was still night, but the moon was high in the sky now. He remembered where he was and how he got here. He panicked as he realized he had just run over someone. He quickly got up and looked around for the girl.
His motorcycle was exactly where it toppled over. There were also skid marks on the road where he swerved after hitting the girl. There was no sign of the girl, but there was a bump on his motorcycle.
Scared of the consequences if he got caught, he immediately set his motorcycle upright and started it up. There’s no evidence and no witnesses, he thought. Plus no girl. As long as nobody finds out and she keeps quiet, everything will be fine…
He kept repeating those words in his mind even after arriving home in his apartment. He took a shower, put on some fresh clothes, and went to bed. There, he drifted to a very troubled sleep…
* * *
Barto was in a dream. He was sure of it, because he and his Tita Marinella were in their ancestral house in Nagcarlan, Laguna. She was in her old room packing her stuff in a suitcase as if she was going to leave. At the same time, he knew this was more than just a dream.
“Tita?” Barto asked. “Why are you packing?”
“It’s been forty days, Barto. I’m leaving for good,” Tita Marinella said. “But before I do I need to warn you about something. One last favor from your tita.”
“Warn me about what?” Barto asked.
Suddenly, the room, bright just moments ago, grew dark. In spite of all the windows being closed, a strong wind began to blow outside and inside the room.
“Her power reaches even here. I can’t keep her out for long,” Tita Marinella said in a worried tone. She looked at Barto, pulled him up so he was standing, and spoke loudly. But her words were barely audible against the now-raging wind in the room.
“You have to give it back!” Tita Marinella screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Give what back?!” Barto asked.
Tita Marinella’s reply was an enigma. Instead of words, she just gave him a sequence of numbers: 25, 8, 31, 9, 45, 24. But before he could ask what they meant, she disappeared, along with the wind, the noise, the room, and the rest of the house. They were replaced by a familiar darkness and the sound of an alarm clock.
Barto opened his eyes. It was Sunday, five in the morning. His alarm clock was still ringing. Annoyed, he turned it off and got up.
Time to get going, he thought as he got up and left the bed.
* * *
After breakfast, Barto went to a pawnshop to pawn the pocket watch he stole from the cemetery. Thankfully, it wasn’t damaged during the crash. Something seemed different about the time it displayed, though. It certainly wasn’t the date today, but somehow he felt it wasn’t the date and time it showed yesterday.
He got P10,000 for the pocket watch, enough to pay for this month’s payment on his motorcycle and buy a lot of lottery tickets. Of course, he still had to pay rent and utilities, not to mention his debt to Jerry, but he planned on crossing that bridge when he got there. Right now, his priority was impressing Chelsea.
Once he made the online payment for his motorcycle, he bought several tickets for the 6/58 lotto. He played Lucky Pick, which generated random numbers, for most of them. However, for one ticket, he selected a sequence of six numbers by himself. When choosing those numbers, he decided to use the numbers he got from his dream. He believed the superstition that if a dead relative gave him numbers, they would be lucky.
After playing the lotto, he went on his usual Sunday date at Gateway Mall with Chelsea. He expected her to be all sympathetic and comforting toward him when he met her because she knew he had just come back from visiting his dead tita. Instead, she was strangely quiet, like she was hiding something. It soon became obvious why.
They went to a fastfood restaurant and she surprisingly treated him. They ordered their usual. As soon as their orders arrived, she destroyed his world.
“I’m breaking up with you,” she finally said.
His eyes widened in shock. “W-why?” he stammered as he started getting tears in his eyes.
She struggled with how to tell him. She had read somewhere that the best way to break up with a significant other was to do it in a public place like a restaurant so if the dumped person became violent, security could intervene, that she had to admit her own faults and say that the relationship was failing because of both of them. However, she knew that lying to him would only make him perpetuate his flaws and that would not help him or anyone else he might end up in a relationship with in the future.
“Honestly? The main reason is because you’re trying too hard to pretend to be rich. That’s all you want to offer, and you don’t have it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s the other reason. If you’re too immature to realize that women want something more than money, that they’re not just people whose affection you can buy, then we really can’t be in a relationship.”
He clenched his fists as his heartbreak began to change into anger. “You vicious, ungrateful b-“
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Not in here,” she said, gesturing at all the people around them, including security guards. He became silent, but he did relax his hand. When he looked like he had calmed down a bit, she said: “I don’t want to say any clichés. Let’s just agree that it’s over so we can both move on with our lives.”
He didn’t answer her. They ate in silence. When they were done, she said goodbye to him, and left. He didn’t follow her.
* * *
Monday morning came with heavy rain. The weather matched Barto’s mood, but it wasn’t just the Monday blues. His tita died forty-two days ago, he got threatened by his cousin, he got into an accident in which he might have injured a girl two days ago, his girlfriend dumped him yesterday…it would take a miracle to turn things around. He wasn’t really expecting any, so he just went through his tasks in his call center job like a machine.
As it turned out, a miracle did happen. Upon returning home from work, he checked the results of the 6/58 lotto, and found that he won the jackpot prize amounting to P50 million. His heart almost popped out of his chest from the shock. First came the denial. Then the euphoria.
I’m rich! Rich enough to quit my stupid job! Rich enough to pay off all my unpaid bills and move out of this stupid apartment and into a class house! Rich enough to pay off my debt to Jerry! Rich enough to afford a girlfriend better than Chelsea! Rich enough to stop pretending and really show off for a change!
He went to bed happy, expecting to dream about the life he would live now that he was rich. Instead, he dreamed about those numbers again: 25, 8, 31, 9, 45, 24.
* * *
Barto’s life did change because of his lottery win. The very next day, he quit his job. Once he collected his winnings and deposited the first installment in the bank, he redeemed the pocket watch he pawned, he paid off his unpaid bills, paid the balance on his motorcycle, and moved out of his apartment in Murphy, Cubao into a classy subdivision in Quezon City. He then deleted all his social media posts about Chelsea and started showing off his money on his social media accounts until eventually hooked up with a girl named Elaine Kurun.
Elaine was, without a doubt, more high-maintenance than Chelsea. She had Barto spend a lot on her haircare, skincare, gadgets, food, clothes, and accessories. But he paid for them all, and even gave her the pocket watch he redeemed from the pawnshop as a gift, because in his mind, they were a small price to pay for being able to show off that he had a classy, glamorous girlfriend.
On the night before the start of Christmas season in the Philippines, he and Elaine spotted Chelsea in Gateway Mall after eating at an upscale restaurant. Wanting to hurt her, he walked up to her with Elaine by his side and pretended to be surprised to see her.
“Chelsea! What a surprise to see you here! How have you been?”
“I’m fine, Barto,” she said nonchalantly.
“Chelsea, this is Elaine, my girlfriend. Elaine, this is Chelsea, my ex-girlfriend,” he said with a smirk. He expected Chelsea to be regretful and Elaine to be condescending; instead, Chelsea was indifferent and Elaine was angry.
“You never told me about an ex!” Elaine exclaimed.
“You have nothing to worry about.” Barto assured her. “It’s over between Chelsea and me. Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah. I broke up with him.” Chelsea said.
“You broke up with him?! Not the other way around?! Why?! Did he do something?” Elaine demanded.
“Because all he offers is money, nothing else,” Chelsea stated as-a-matter-of-factly.
“You broke up with me because you were too stupid to know how much better I would be in just a few months.” Barto said spitefully. “Now look at where I am and look where you are. My life is so much better without you in it. Can you say the same to me?”
“Sure, Barto. Keep telling yourself that,” Chelsea told Barto smugly. She then turned to Elaine and said: “Now you’re starting to see who you are really with. Good luck.”
Angrily, Barto left and dragged Elaine, who was now angry and confused, with him. There was already tension between them even before they got in his car and he got it rolling. However, their argument only when they turned a corner in Aurora Boulevard.
“You should have told me you had an ex!” she seethed.
“What does it matter?! It was over between us when the two of us got together! And I’m paying for all your stuff, so you have no right to complain!”
She was infuriated. “Don’t you dare treat me like I’m a whore!”
“Oh, you are,” he said heatedly. “A very expensive whore. And if you don’t shut up I may just dump your worthless a-“
“LOOK OUT!!!” she screamed, pointing ahead.
He looked at where she was pointing and saw the same girl he ran over weeks ago standing there. This time he was able to avoid hitting her, but because he was riding a car and not a motorcycle, it flipped over several times when he swerved. Even though he was wearing his seatbelt, he died instantly when his neck broke while the car was toppling over. As for his girlfriend, she ended up quite differently from him…
Elaine undid the seatbelt and got out of the car. The first thing she did was step out of the wrecked car and walk a short distance away from it because it might explode. The second was wait for the rescue services to arrive so it wouldn’t look like she was fleeing the scene.
It didn’t take long for the ambulance and police cars to arrive. The car crash was loud and there were plenty of residents in this area to report it. The ambulance and police cars came from the end of the street that intersected with Eulogio Rodriguez Sr. Avenue, not the end of the street that intersected with Aurora Boulevard. When they saw the crash, they immediately checked Barto. Upon seeing he was dead, they turned their attention to her.
“Name, please,” a police officer requested.
“Elaine Kurun,” she answered. “But you can call me Stacy.”
“Can you tell us what time the crash happened?” he asked.
“Let me check,” she said, taking out the pocket watch Barto had given to her as a gift. “I’m sorry, I think it’s broken. It stopped at August 31, 2025, 9:45:24 PM.”
Comparing it with the time on his watch, the officer realized that it happened twenty minutes ago. Nevertheless, he did note down the date and time she gave: 25 / 8 / 31 / 9:45:24 PM.
