Chapter 1: First Glimpse at the Feast
The smell of charred pork skin and garlic rice wrapped around Matt like a warm, familiar blanket. Candlelight danced across the mahogany table, glinting off the glossy lechon and making the strands of pancit look like golden silk. Penny’s family filled the room with a comfortable, overlapping chatter, a mix of Tagalog and English that was the soundtrack of every major holiday.
“You’re not eating, mahal,” Penny said, her voice soft beside him. She scooped another mound of rice onto his already full plate, her warm brown eyes crinkling with affection. Her hand rested on his arm for a second, a light, possessive touch that usually centered him.
“Just savoring it,” he said, flashing her his best charming smile. It felt a little stiff on his face.
His gaze, traitorous and hungry, drifted across the table again. It landed, as it had all night, on Mary. Penny’s older sister was leaning back in her chair, listening to an uncle’s story, one arm draped over the empty chair beside her. The butter-yellow sundress she wore was cut low, the fabric straining slightly where it crossed her chest. A simple silver spoon dangled from her fingers.
As if feeling the heat of his stare, her eyes slid from their uncle and locked onto his. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. She brought the spoon to her mouth, her tongue flicking out to catch a drop of lechon sauce. Her eyes never left his. Then she deliberately, slowly, ran her thumb along the curve of the spoon and brought it to her lips, sucking it clean.
Matt’s throat went dry. He forced himself to look down at his own plate, the crispy pork suddenly looking greasy. He grabbed his water glass, the condensation cold against his palm.
“Ate Mary, your lechon is always the best,” Penny said, blissfully oblivious. “Even better than Lola’s, don’t tell her I said that.”
“Secret’s safe with me, little sister,” Mary laughed. Her laughter was different from Penny’s gentle chuckle; it was a rich, rolling sound that seemed to vibrate in the air. “Maybe Matt can help me with the dishes later. As payment for the culinary masterpiece.”
Penny beamed. “Oh, he’d love to! Won’t you, honey? Give Tito Boy and the titos a break.”
Matt felt a bead of sweat trace a path down his spine. “Sure. Of course.”
The rest of the meal passed in a blur of flavor and noise, a torturous parade of courses where Matt’s awareness was triangulated between Penny’s affectionate touches, the weight of Mary’s occasional glances, and the growing knot of guilt in his stomach. He talked engineering with Penny’s father, he laughed at her mother’s jokes, he performed the role of the perfect future son-in-law. All the while, his peripheral vision was tuned to the frequency of yellow fabric and wild, silky hair.
Finally, the ordeal shifted. The uncles retired to the living room for coffee and basketball on TV. Penny and her mother began clearing dessert plates, their movements in sync. “We’ve got this, Ma,” Penny said. “You go sit. Matt, ate, the kitchen?”
The kitchen was a world away from the candlelit dining room, harshly lit by fluorescent tubes. The scent of coconut and spice was now mingled with the sharp tang of soap. Mary handed him a rinsed plate without looking at him. “Towel’s there.”
He took it, their fingers not touching. For a few minutes, the only sounds were the clatter of ceramic, the rush of water, and the distant cheers from the television.
“You’ve been quiet,” Mary said, her voice low. She was scrubbing a stubborn pot, her shoulders rolling with the motion.
“Just tired. Big week at work.”
“Right.” She turned off the water. The sudden silence was heavy. She turned, leaning back against the sink, arms crossed under her chest. The pose accentuated every curve. “Penny’s so happy. It’s kind of sickening, actually.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why? It’s true. She lives in this little world where everything is perfect. Her perfect job, her perfect fiancé.” Mary’s eyes bored into him, challenging. “Must be nice to be that naive.”
“She’s not naive. She’s good,” Matt said, the defense automatic. He focused on meticulously drying a glass.
Mary pushed off from the sink and took a step closer. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with the unspoken thing that had been humming since she’d licked that damn spoon. He could smell her perfume over the dish soap—something dark and floral, nothing like Penny’s light, citrusy scent.
“Good,” Mary echoed, the word a soft exhale. “I’m not good, Matt. I’m in trouble.”
He finally looked at her. Up close, he could see the faint lines of stress around her eyes, the desperation that her boldness was trying to mask. “What kind of trouble?”
“The financial kind. A lot of it. And I need help.” Another step. She was within arm’s reach now. “I need fifty thousand pesos. By Thursday.”
He barked a short, stunned laugh. “Are you serious? Mary, I can’t just—”
“You can. I’ve seen your house. Your car.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, intimate and urgent. “Penny doesn’t need to know. It would break her sweet little heart. And it would break… you. This family.”
The implication hung in the fluorescent glow, ugly and clear. She wasn’t just asking for a loan. She was offering a transaction, with his relationship and his place in this family as the collateral.
“You’re asking me to betray her,” he whispered, his voice rough.
“I’m asking you to help me.” Her hand came up, not touching him, but hovering near his chest. “And maybe… help yourself. A man like you… with a woman like her? Don’t you ever want more? Don’t you ever get tired of… gentle?”
Her gaze was a physical touch. It stripped away the engineer, the fiancé, the good guy, and found the restless, weak thing cowering underneath. The thing that had stared at her all through dinner.
“I love Penny,” he said, but it sounded hollow, a recited line.
Mary’s smirk returned, triumphant. She had heard the lack of conviction. “I know you do. This doesn’t have to change that. This can be… separate. A secret. My gratitude would be very… tangible.”
From the doorway, Penny’s cheerful voice sliced through the tension. “Almost done in here? We have cake!”
Mary didn’t jump. She simply let her hand fall slowly, her eyes holding Matt’s for one final, devastating second before she turned, her face transforming into a bright smile for her sister. “Just finishing up! Matt was just telling me about his big project.”
Later, lying in the dark next to Penny, her breathing deep and even in sleep, Matt stared at the ceiling. The guilt was a cold stone in his gut. He replayed Mary’s words. A man like you. Tired of gentle.
His phone, face-down on the nightstand, buzzed softly. Once. A notification.
He waited for thirty seconds, then sixty. Penny murmured and turned over.
Carefully, he picked up the phone. The screen’s glow lit his face in the dark. A single text from an unsaved number, but he knew.
You know where to find me. Think about it.