Chapter 1: How to tell you
The fluorescent light in this room hums like a trapped insect that never learned how to die. It vibrates in the air with a thin, metallic insistence, as if the ceiling itself were grinding its teeth. Every few seconds it flickers just slightly, a microscopic hesitation in its endless glare, and that small imperfection somehow makes the whole space feel even more artificial, like reality has been photocopied too many times. It is a sterile, relentless sound that settles behind my eyes and makes the back of my teeth ache in a dull, patient way. The room smells faintly of recycled air and old paper, a combination that clings to everything and refuses to leave.
"I shift slightly in the chair before I can stop myself, my palm instinctively brushing the hard curve of my belly as I settle. The movement is small, negotiated rather than chosen, as if my body has its own private opinions about space and circulation now. There is less room than there used to be, the roundness of me pressing against the table’s edge, or perhaps I am simply occupying it differently. I rest my hands on the table because it is easier than letting them hover over the weight below.
Agent Weiler adjusts his glasses with slow precision, the movement almost ceremonial. The lenses catch the overhead light and for a moment erase him completely, turning his eyes into two blank, white discs as if someone had overwritten his thoughts with static. When the glare fades, he is still there, slouched slightly forward in a posture that pretends to be relaxed but never fully convinces. He looks worn down, like a piece of leather that has been handled too often and never properly put away.
His gaze drops once, briefly, not to my face but slightly lower, as if registering details he does not comment on. Then it returns upward, unchanged in expression, but recalibrated in some quiet way I cannot fully name.
Agent Harper sits beside him without mirroring his fatigue. She doesn’t fidget, doesn’t perform stillness the way he does. Instead, she occupies her space with a kind of quiet clarity, eyes moving with intention rather than curiosity alone.
My breath hitches, not from anxiety, but because there is simply less room inside my ribs for air to expand. Beneath the sterile hum of the lights, I feel a distinct, rolling pressure low in my abdomen. A slow, deliberate stretch of skin that has nothing to do with my own will. It is a second heartbeat, a heavy, dormant weight that shifts when I shift, reminding me that I am carrying a timeline I cannot pause.
The table beneath my palms is cool, hard, almost stubborn in its refusal to comfort. I keep my fingers there anyway, tracing nothing in particular, just the faint imperfections in the laminate. Something to hold onto that does not ask questions.
It’s easier than thinking about how I got here.
It all started with the smell of recycled air and exhaustion, and the faint, almost unwelcome realization that memory has a habit of returning at the worst possible times, like it knows exactly where to find me.
Twenty-seven hours of travel. Manila to LA, a frantic, sweaty layover, then the final hop to Seattle. My body felt like it didn’t belong to me anymore, swollen and heavy, a foreign vessel carrying a life I was still trying to comprehend. The plane’s descent pressed against my ears like a closing fist, and the baby kept moving beneath my ribs in uneven intervals, as if responding to the pressure shift with its own quiet resistance.
Jason slept through most of it. His head was tilted back, mouth slightly open, and the weariness etched on his face was so profound I didn’t have the heart to wake him. He’d handled everything—the visas, the packing, the sale of my little condo in Quezon City. He was overwhelmed, a constant state for him since the positive test. I’d trace the lines on his hand, this man who’d swept me off my feet with talk of mission work and a shared faith, and now just seemed… crushed by the weight of providing.
The Seattle-Tacoma airport arrived in fragments of polished floor and echoing announcements. Customs moved us forward in a slow current of bodies. My back pulled sharply every time I shifted weight. My feet felt separated from me, delayed by a second or two.
“Almost there, honey,” Jason murmured, his hand a brief, absent weight on my lower back before he was back to fumbling with our documents. His smile was a thin, stretched thing. “Daryl will be waiting.”
Jason’s hand moved to my lower back, guiding me towards the airport exit. The bustling crowd was a blur of faces, a melting pot of cultures. The crowd blurred into faces that did not hold still long enough to become familiar. A man in a bright coat argued softly in a language I couldn’t place. Somewhere a child cried in short, broken bursts, then stopped, then started again.
"You sure you don't want me to carry something?" Jason asked, his blue-grey eyes scanning our luggage. He was always the practical one, always thinking ahead.
I shook my head, carefully balancing our carry-on bags. "I'm good. I want to feel useful," I replied with a small smile.
The truth was, I felt anything but. Pregnancy had sapped my energy, and the move had drained whatever was left. But I couldn't let Jason see my fatigue. He had enough on his plate. Jason nodded, his glasses glinting under the harsh airport lights. "You're always useful, Sarah. That's why I couldn't do this without you." I felt a warmth spread through me at his words. Despite everything, Jason still had the power to make me blush like a schoolgirl. But as we navigated the crowd, I couldn't help but feel a pang of homesickness.
The Philippines was filled with chaos and uncertainty, but it was our chaos, our uncertainty. Here, everything was so foreign, so sterile. Even the air smelled different. "Are you okay?" Jason asked, noticing my pause. His hand still rested gently on my back, a constant reassurance. I nodded, pushing away the thought. "Just...taking it all in. It's so different here." He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, that's part of the adventure, right?"
I laughed, a sound that was equal parts nervous and hopeful. "Yes, adventure. That's what we came here for, isn't it?"
Jason's hand slipped into his pocket, pulling out his phone as he nodded. "Exactly. Let's just get through the airport first. Daryl should be waiting for us outside." As he turned on his phone, the screen lit up, casting a soft glow on his face. Jason typed as we walked towards the baggage claim. "Just cleared customs. We'll be out now."
The message whooshed away. He put the phone back without looking at me, his attention already on the carousel starting to groan and lurch into motion. A line of identical black suitcases began to parade past. He positioned himself at the edge of the crowd, his posture alert. I stood a few feet back, my carry-on bag’s strap digging a groove into my shoulder. I lowered it to the floor between my feet. The linoleum was speckled grey and beige. A child cried several carousels over. The sound was sharp, then muffled. I watched the muscles in Jason’s jaw work, a tiny, rhythmic pulse beneath the skin. He saw one of our bags, a dark green duffel, and leaned forward to hoist it off the belt. The strain showed briefly in the line of his arm before he set it down with a solid thump. He did not look back at me.
We waited for the second bag. The carousel turned. A woman in a bright pink coat argued softly with a man in I guess it was German. A suitcase with a burst seam went around twice. My feet were throbbing inside my shoes. Jason finally grabbed our other suitcase, a hard-shell blue one, and wheeled both over to me. He handed me the duffel’s strap. The nylon was cool.
“Ready?” he said.
I took the strap. “Ready.”
A blond man near the curb lifted his hand in recognition. Jason’s shoulders shifted immediately, tension rearranging into something looser as we approached. "There he is." Jason said pointing at the man. We approached him and he had a big hug for Jason. He then turned to me and gave me a warm smile.
"You must be Sarah. I'm Daryl."
"Nice to meet you Daryl. Thank you for having us over." I said with a smile.
He smiled back and said, "My pleasure, Sarah. I'm glad to have you both here."
He grabbed two of our luggage bags from me and started walking towards the car.
"Your ride is right here," he called over his shoulder. Jason and I exchanged a glance and followed him.
"How was the journey?" Daryl asked as he loaded our bags into the trunk of his car. "I hope you weren't too uncomfortable with the pandemic going on."
"It was bearable," Jason replied, helping me into the back seat. "Thanks for the ride, Daryl."
Daryl closed the trunk and got into the driver's seat. "No problem at all. Just doing my friend a favor," he said with a smile.
I buckled my seatbelt, feeling the baby shift within me as we pulled out of the parking lot. The car ride was more comfortable than I'd expected, with the plush seats and smooth hum of the engine lulling me into a sense of ease. The time passed with a mix of quiet conversation and occasional laughter, punctuated by the soft hum of the radio playing in the background.
After a while, my stomach told me it was lunchtime and I was hungry. So I said to Daryl, "I'm starving. I need to eat." Jason asked Daryl, and he nodded and announced, "I think it's about time for a pit stop. How about we try some authentic Turkish cuisine? I know just the place. After Bremerton, I know a little Turkish spot just off the highway."
Jason glanced back at me, his eyes reflecting the fading daylight. "Sounds good to me. Sarah's never had a döner kebab before."
Daryl drove off the highway to a house where we could park in the backyard. We got out and walked into a small restaurant. "You've got something to look forward to, Sarah," Daryl said.
I laughed softly, my stomach growling in anticipation. "I can't wait to try it."
The restaurant was small and simply furnished, but it was clean, and we had the chance to sit down.
I was so empty-stomached that I ordered the house special with lamb and beef.
And what can I say? It was excellent.
The meat was shaved thin from a vertical spit. It was placed on warm, flat bread. There was white sauce and a red sauce. There were chopped onions and parsley. The meat was greasy. The grease soaked into the bread in dark patches. I folded the bread over and lifted it to my mouth. The first bite was a complexity of textures. The crisp edges of the meat, the soft give of the bread, the cool sharpness of the onion. I chewed. Jason watched me. He had ordered the same. Daryl was eating a wrap, the foil crinkling as he unwound it.
“Good?” Jason asked.
I nodded, my mouth too full to speak properly. The sauce was creamy and tangy, a perfect counterpoint to the rich, spiced meat. “So good,” I finally managed, wiping a dribble of grease from my chin with a paper napkin.
Jason and Daryl had been talking in low tones, their conversation a murmur underneath the restaurant’s ambient noise. I’d been in my own world, focused on the simple, profound satisfaction of the food. But a burst of laughter from Daryl, a sharp, snorted chuckle, pulled me out of it. Jason was shaking his head, a wide, disbelieving grin on his face.
I looked between them, feeling a sudden chill despite the warmth of the restaurant. "What are you guys talking about? What's so funny?" I interrupted, not able to hide the curiosity in my voice. They exchanged a look, the kind men share when they know they’re on the edge of something unsavory. Jason cleared his throat, still smiling. “Ah, nothing. Just stupid internet stuff.”
Daryl took a long pull of his drink. “Yeah, just some racist conspiracy nonsense about Turkish food. People actually believe this crap. It’s wild.”
“What kind of nonsense?” I pressed, taking another bite.
Jason waved a hand dismissively. “The kind where people make up gross stories about immigrants to make them seem dirty or dangerous. It’s all bullshit. Ignorant bullshit.”
"Hay naku... ewan ko sayo." The quiet contentment I’d felt was now threaded with a faint, metallic aftertaste, unrelated to the food. It was the taste of being on the outside of a joke whose punchline I didn’t fully want to know, at this time. But before they could respond, I couldn't help but confess, "This sauce is seriously addictive, though. I think I could drink it if they served it in a glass. It's like nothing I've ever tasted before."
I wish I’d never said that. I regretted it later, when I realized what the two of them were whispering about. It was embarrassing to have brought that up—in front of both of them. If Turkish guys really taste like that, I’m going to get hooked right away. 'Damn, what a ludicrous notion.'
I let it go. The world was full of ugly stories. I didn’t need another one right now, not with this warm food in my belly. “It’s delicious nonsense, then,” I said, and they both laughed again, a bit too quickly, the moment passing.
Daryl acknowledged my words with a chuckle. “Well, Sarah, I'm glad you like it. Turkish cuisine has a way of surprising people.” Daryl continued, his voice dripping with amusement as he watched me eagerly devour my food. “And I'm glad you like it, Sarah.”
As the conversation continued around me, my eyes wandered to Jason. The day-lit restaurant cast a warm glow on his face, and I noticed him glancing at my plate with a flare of curiosity in his eyes. My heart skipped a beat as I winked at him and a smile played around the corners of my mouth. It was a smile that said, “I want to taste you,” without saying a word. Jason's gaze lingered on mine for a moment before breaking into a soft smile, his blue-gray eyes sparkling in a shared understanding. I felt a warmth spread through my chest as I looked back at my plate, trying to hide my blush. I looked at the wall of the restaurant notice that it was getting late. We finished eating. We left the restaurant, went back to the car. Daryl turned the vehicle back to the highway and the landscape began to change. The dense commercial strips gave way to patches of forest, the grey sky pressing down on stands of evergreen and bare-branched alder. We crossed a high, soaring bridge, the water below a sheet of hammered lead. Fog gathered in the low places, swallowing trees whole. And I was nodding away.
Then, we finally arrived at the place where Daryl lives. “Welcome to the Peninsula,” he said.
As we pulled up to Daryl's house, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the quaint, European-style buildings. The cool air nipped at my nose as we stepped out of the car, carrying with it the sweet perfume of blooming flowers from nearby gardens. I took a deep breath, feeling my muscles relax as the familiar scent of home mingled with the foreign air.
Daryl's house was a charming two-story, spacious and impeccably clean—especially compared to a typical townhouse in Manila. He helped us with our bags, and as we walked inside, a sense of comfort washed over me. The house was warm and inviting.
"Make yourselves at home," Daryl said, leading us to the guest room, which had once been meant for his kids.
"Olivia will be here soon. She's been looking forward to meeting you."
As we settled into our new temporary home, I couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude towards Daryl and Olivia for their hospitality. The room was cozy, decorated in neutral tones, with a comfortable-looking bed and a small desk in the corner. I set my bag down on the floor, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as I finally had a chance to rest my weary feet.
Jason leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of him as he looked around the room. "This is nice, Sarah. Better than the hotel, at least."
I smiled, my eyes scanning the space. "It's perfect." I agreed with a soft smile, my eyes meeting Jason's. "I think we're going to like it here."
After a few minutes, we walked back down the stairs and into the hallway just as the door to the house swung open. A woman with short, straight red hair and warm, welcoming eyes entered, her arms full of shopping bags.
“You must be Sarah and Jason,” she said with a bright smile, her green eyes sparkling with friendliness. “I'm Olivia, Daryl's partner. I'm so glad you could come.”
Daryl stepped forward, draping an arm around her shoulders as he introduced us. “Olivia, this is Sarah and Jason.” Daryl introduced us, his arm still wrapped affectionately around Olivia's shoulders. “They're staying with us for a bit.”
“It's wonderful to meet you both,” Olivia replied warmly, her eyes lighting up with genuine pleasure. “I hope you're hungry because I’ve just picked up some ingredients for a vegan dinner. I thought it would be nice for the four of us to eat together.”
I was a bit taken aback. "Vegan?" I didn’t say anything else, but I couldn’t help thinking, I’ve never really been a fan of chicken dishes anyway.
But Jason seemed to be excited about the idea. "That sounds amazing, Olivia. We’ve been looking forward to trying some vegan food," he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself smiling too. "Yes, thank you, Olivia. We’re both looking forward to it."
Olivia beamed at us, clearly pleased with our response. "Great! Why don't you two get settled in, and I'll start cooking?"
We ate the food and it was satisfying but I became very tired.
I went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I splashed some cold water on my face and it felt good. I looked at myself in the mirror and I looked really tired. I didn't expect to feel so exhausted after traveling. I took care of my personal hygiene and went to bed.
When I got back to the room, Jason was already in bed, reading a book. He looked up as I entered, closing the book and setting it aside.
"You okay?" he asked, concern touching his voice. "You look beat."
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "I am, but it's a good kind of beat.
I feel like I could sleep for a week," I confessed, letting out a soft yawn as I slipped off my shoes and began to unbutton my blouse. "It's been such a long day."
Jason nodded, his eyes following me as I moved about the room. "I know what you mean. I'm just glad we can finally lie down in a real bed. Not just those cramped seats on the plane." He patted the space beside him, inviting me to join him. "Come here. Let's get some rest."
I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his simple gesture. As I climbed into bed, Jason pulled me close, tucking my head beneath his chin. I could hear his heartbeat, steady and comforting, as I closed my eyes and let the day's exhaustion wash over me.
"Jason?" I whispered, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.
"Hmm?" he replied, his lips brushing against the top of my head.
"Thank you. For everything," I said, my fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "For bringing us here, for being so strong...for loving me."
Jason's hand cupped my cheek, and he turned my face towards his, his blue-grey eyes reflecting the soft moonlight filtering through the window. "Sarah, you don't have to thank me. I'm your husband, and I'm supposed to take care of you.
That's what I want to do," Jason said softly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped from the corner of my eye. "I love you, Sarah. And I'm going to be here for you, every step of the way."
A soft snort escaped me, a sound that was half-laugh and half-cry. "You have no idea how much I need to hear that right now," I admitted, my voice thick with emotion.
"I've been so scared, so worried about everything. But knowing you're here with me...it makes everything seem less daunting."
Jason pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, his hand stroking my hair. "I know, Sarah. And I'm here for you, no matter what. Now, get some sleep. We'll face tomorrow together."
As his soothing words washed over me, I felt my eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with me. I snuggled closer to Jason, inhaling his familiar scent, and let the warmth of his embrace lull me into a peaceful slumber.