Chapter Text
"Ubos na ubos na ako sa'yo, Janine! Napakahirap mong mahalin..."
"Hindi ko naman kasi sinabi na mahalin mo ako, Spencer!" the other woman screamed back, her chest heaving, eyes wide with defensive panic. "Sinabi ko bang saluhin mo ako? Hindi, 'di ba? Kusa kang nahulog! Kasalanan ko pa ba 'yon?"
"Wag mo akong baliktarin!" Janine stepped forward, her voice breaking into a sob that sounded like ripping paper. "Kusa akong nahulog? O tinulak mo ako? Pinaniwala mo ako sa mga tingin mo, sa mga haplos mo na sabi mo 'friendly' lang pero alam nating dalawa na hindi! You made me feel safe, Spencer. You made me build a home in you... tapos ngayon, gigibain mo lang kasi ano? Kasi takot ka?"
Spencer looked away, biting her lip, tears streaming silently down her face. She looked small, cornered.
"Hindi sa ganun..." Spencer whispered, shaking her head. "Ayoko lang masira kung anong meron tayo."
"Sira na tayo!" Janine grabbed Spencer's arm, forcing her to look. "Matagal na tayong sira. Simula nung pinili mong manahimik habang durog na durog na ako kakaintindi sa'yo. Ang unfair mo eh. Ang unfair, unfair mo."
Janine let go, wiping her face aggressively, smearing mascara across her cheek. She laughed bitterly — a hollow, haunting sound.
"Alam mo kung anong pinakamasakit? Yung alam kong gagawin mo ulit 'to. You will break me again, and like a fool, hahayaan ulit kita. Kasi tangina, Spencer... kahit ang sakit-sakit mong mahalin, hindi ko alam paano tumigil."
Spencer looked at her, eyes pleading. "Janine, please. Don't make me the villain here. I'm trying to save us."
"Save us?" Janine looked at her with dead, tired eyes. "You're not saving us, Spencer. You're just saving yourself. And you're leaving me to drown."
The silence that followed was deafening. The air in the cramped apartment set felt heavy, charged with the kind of electricity that only happened when two people were ripping each other apart.
"And..."
Jhoanna Robles leaned forward in her canvas chair, her grip on the armrest tightening until her knuckles turned white. She held her breath, watching the actress's trembling lip on the screen. It was perfect. It was excruciating.
"...Cut!"
The tension in the room snapped like a rubber band.
"Okay, good energy! But let's go for one more," Jhoanna called out, her voice echoing through the soundstage, shaking off the memory. She stood up, running a hand through her disheveled hair to hide the fact that her own hands were shaking. "Janine, mas gusto ko 'yung hagulgol mo sa Take 2 — yung parang nawawalan ka na ng hininga. Spencer, that was great, pero kulang sa galit sa dulo. Mas frustration, less sad boi. I want you to look at her like you hate her for loving you. Reset tayo! Check the gate!"
A collective groan — soft but audible — rippled through the crew. They had been shooting this scene for three hours. The emotional fatigue was palpable.
"Teh, pang-walong take na natin 'to. Yung foundation ni Spencer naghihilaho na, mukha na siyang espasol," a voice drawled from beside her.
Jhoanna didn't look away from the monitor. She blindly grabbed the iced coffee extended towards her.
Sheena Catacutan, her Personal Assistant (and the granddaughter of the studio's Chairman), stood there aggressively fanning herself with a fan. She was wearing a designer shirt that cost more than the camera rental, tucked into loose sweatpants, chewing gum with zero urgency.
"Kailangan perfect, Shee," Jhoanna muttered, taking a sip. "The lighting was off in the last three seconds. Did you see the shadow on Spencer's face?"
"Ang nakikita ko lang, Direk, is yung gutom ng mga tao," Sheena deadpanned, scrolling on her phone. "Pati yung catering natin sumuko na. Yung kanin, parang bato na sa tigas. Ipapa-grab food ko na ba kayo? My treat."
"Sheena, focus," Jhoanna snapped, though without heat. She knew she couldn't fire Sheena even if she wanted to.
"I'm focused, bhie. Focused sa pag-aabang kung kailan tayo matatapos," Sheena retorted, rolling her eyes playfully.
Before Jhoanna could snap back, a paint-splattered hand waved in front of her face, effectively blocking her view of the monitor. Maloi Ricalde stepped in, her tool belt clanking softly against Jhoanna's chair as she leaned down.
"True naman si Bebe, Direk. Nagka-crack na yung foundation ni Spencer, mukha na siyang espasol," Maloi agreed, though her voice lacked Sheena's sarcasm. She lowered her tone, shifting from tired to gentle. "Tsaka tama na, teh. Masakit na 'yon. Kung masasaktan pa lalo 'yan, baka pati kami umiyak na. Pause muna ang perfectionism mo. You have a visitor."
"Sino?" Jhoanna didn't even look up, her eyes trying to peer around Maloi's arm. "Tell them I'm busy. We're losing light."
"Nasa labas, kanina pa."
"Ate Maloi, I don't care if it's the President. I need this shot." Jhoanna finally looked up, frustration creasing her forehead.
"It's Aiah."
Jhoanna paused. Her finger hovered over the playback button. The name hung in the air, heavier than the drama they were filming.
"Sabi ko sa kanya busy ka," Maloi continued, checking her chipped nail polish nervously. "Pero alam mo naman si Ate Aiah. She's not just walking... she's striding. And she's vibrating. Like, scary vibrating. She wants to talk. Now."
"Tell her to wait. I need one more take." Jhoanna turned back to the set, raising her voice, ignoring the knot forming in her stomach. "Guys! Bilisan ang kilos! Make-up, retouch kay Spencer! Props, ayusin 'yung vase na binato kanina!"
"Jho, naman! Makinig ka naman sa akin kahit ngayon lang!" Maloi groaned, frustratedly pushing her red bayonetta glasses up the bridge of her nose. She grabbed Jhoanna's arm, stopping her from signaling the cameraman. "Ate Aiah said it's important, at huwag ka nang matigas ang ulo. Jho, baka nakakalimutan mong siya ang may hawak ng kaban ng yaman."
"Ate Maloi, bitaw. I just need five minutes—"
"Jhoanna."
The voice didn't come from the tent entrance. It came from right behind her.
The chatter on the set died down instantly. Even the cameramen stopped adjusting their lenses. The silence was different this time — it wasn't the silence of art being made; it was the silence of fear.
Jhoanna stiffened. She slowly turned around.
Aiah Arceta stood in the middle of the chaotic set like a statue of ice in a desert. She was dressed in a sharp beige power suit that screamed Executive Producer, contrasting sharply with the sweaty, dusty crew around her. She held a folder against her chest, her knuckles white, her expression unreadable.
"Uy, Ate Aiah!" Sheena broke the silence, popping her gum loudly. She waved casually, completely immune to the terrifying aura Aiah was projecting. "Bongga ng outfit natin today ah? Is that the new collection? Slay, madam. Parang mananampal lang ng mahirap."
Aiah's expression softened for a millisecond, acknowledging the heiress. "Hi, Bebe. Sorry, I just need to talk kay Jho right now."
The softness vanished the moment she locked eyes with the director.
"Ate," Jhoanna started, forcing a tired smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Perfect timing. I actually need to ask you about the catering budget for next week, kasi—"
"We need to talk about the numbers, Jhoanna," Aiah cut her off. Her voice was low, smooth, but in the silent studio, it carried the weight of a judge delivering a verdict. "In my office. Now."
"I can't leave," Jhoanna argued, gesturing frantically to the actors waiting for her cue. "Nawawala na sila sa momentum. Sayang 'yung rent sa equipment. Can we do this later? I just need two more shooting days for the ending sequence. The lighting wasn't right yesterday, and—"
"They declined, Jho."
"Hala," Sheena muttered from the side, eyes widening.
Jhoanna blinked. The noise of the studio seemed to fade into a dull buzz. "What?"
"The board," Aiah said, stepping closer, her voice devoid of pity. "The request for the budget extension. They declined."
"Hala!" Sheena exclaimed again, louder this time, her hands flying to cover her mouth in theatrical shock. She looked back and forth between Jhoanna and Aiah like she was watching a live breakup.
Maloi, unable to take it anymore, sharply elbowed Sheena in the ribs to shut her up. Sheena let out a small oomph but stayed quiet, though her eyes were still sparkling with gossip.
A wave of vertigo hit Jhoanna. It was a physical blow — a rush of blood to her head followed by a cold, numbing sensation in her fingertips. Anger, disappointment, and humiliation swirled inside her. She opened her mouth to argue, to scream, to beg, but the words died in her throat.
Aiah raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a silent warning: Don't make a scene here. Before Jhoanna could recover, Aiah checked her watch, then looked at Maloi.
"Pack it up, Maloi. Send everyone home," Aiah ordered, her tone brooking no argument. Then she looked at Jhoanna. "And you. Car. Now."
·•—–٠✤٠—–•·
The ride to Makati was a blur of city lights and suffocating silence. Jhoanna didn't remember getting into the car. She didn't remember the elevator ride up to the 30th floor, either. One moment she was surrounded by the dusty smell of the set, and the next, the sterile, expensive scent of Aiah's office was filling her lungs.
"Jho, upo ka."
Maloi's gentle voice broke the silence, cutting through the high-pitched ringing in Jhoanna's ears.
It was only then that Jhoanna realized she was standing in the middle of the room, clutching her bag like a shield. She blinked, the white noise fading, replaced by the low hum of the central air conditioning. She looked around. Glass walls. minimalist furniture. A view of the city that looked cold and indifferent.
She sank into the leather chair opposite the desk, feeling small. Maloi sat on the armrest of the sofa nearby, still wearing her tool belt, looking out of place in the pristine office.
Sheena, meanwhile, had thrown herself onto the expensive velvet couch, legs crossed, looking at the ceiling with a rare frown on her face.
Aiah didn't sit. She stood behind her massive glass desk, leaning against it with her arms crossed, staring down at Jhoanna.
"Anong nangyayari, Ate?" Jhoanna asked, her voice trembling slightly, the fight slowly returning to her system. "Why did you pull me out like that? We were rolling. Sayang ang oras. Sayang ang momentum ni Janine."
"Anong nangyayari?" Aiah repeated the question, her tone uncharacteristically sharp. She picked up a black folder from her desk and dropped it in front of Jhoanna.
The thud echoed in the quiet room.
"Ang nangyayari, Jhoanna, is that I am trying to save you from yourself."
"Save me? I'm directing a movie, Aiah. I'm not dying."
"You are bleeding money," Aiah corrected, her eyes hard. "Did the accounting department approve the budget extension? No. Because there is no budget left to extend."
"Kailangan ko lang ng two more shooting days for the ending sequence!" Jhoanna insisted, leaning forward, her director instincts kicking in. "The lighting wasn't right yesterday, and the emotional payoff—"
"They declined, Jho," Aiah cut her off, gently but firmly.
"Edi kausapin natin sila ulit! Declined? That just means they didn't understand the pitch!" Jhoanna snapped, her voice rising in frantic denial. She stood up, pacing the small space in front of the desk. "Ako ang kakausap. I'll explain why the shadow work in Scene 4 is crucial for the visual metaphor of the—"
"Jhoanna, stop!" Aiah slammed her hand on the desk.
Jhoanna froze mid-sentence.
"Hindi script ang problema," Aiah said, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm register. She walked around the desk, closing the distance between them. "Your last film, 'Anino'. Tell me about it."
Jhoanna blinked, thrown off by the abrupt change of topic, breathless from her outburst. "It... it won Best Cinematography and Best Screenplay at the Gawad Urian. Critics loved it. It was art."
"Exactly," Aiah nodded, but her expression was grim. "Critics loved it. But do you know how much it made?"
Jhoanna looked away, biting her lip. She knew. Of course she knew. But she had spent the last year pretending the numbers didn't exist, burying them under piles of awards and accolades.
"You're not making any sense, Ate Aiah," Jhoanna deflected, shaking her head as if to shake off the accusation. "Hindi ko gets. Anong kinalaman ng Anino sa budget request ko ngayon? That was a different project. Ibang usapan 'yon, so why are you bringing up—"
"It made three million pesos at the box office," Aiah cut her off, her voice sharp, slicing through Jhoanna's trance of avoidance. "Total. Nationwide runs included."
Jhoanna flinched, but Aiah didn't stop.
"The production cost was fifteen million," Aiah continued, twisting the knife with brutal efficiency. "Lugi ang studio, Jho. Again. The film before that? 'Huli'. Breakeven barely. The one before that? Flop."
"Tama na!" Jhoanna snapped, her voice cracking. She glared at Aiah, her eyes glassy with frustrated tears she refused to shed. "There's no need to point out the obvious, Aiah. I already know that. Kailangan ba talagang isa-isahin pa? Kailangan ba talagang ipamukha sa akin na nalulugi ako?"
"Kailangan," Aiah replied calmly, though her eyes softened seeing Jhoanna crumble. "Kasi kung hindi ko ipapamukha sa'yo, hindi ka magigising. You are drowning, Jhoanna. And I am tired of watching you convince yourself that you can breathe underwater."
Jhoanna slumped back into the leather chair, the fight draining out of her body. She covered her face with her hands, letting out a muffled, frustrated groan.
She was done. Completely done.
"So..." Jhoanna's voice was muffled behind her palms. "So that's it? Pack up na? Uwi na ako ng Laguna? Magbabantay na lang ako ng coffee shop ni Mama? Is that what you want?"
The silence in the room stretched, heavy and suffocating. Jhoanna waited for the confirmation. She waited for Aiah to say, 'Yes, pack your things.'
"I didn't say that," Aiah said quietly.
Jhoanna lowered her hands, looking up with red-rimmed eyes. Aiah had walked back to her desk and was now rubbing her temples, the stress finally showing through her perfect facade.
"I fought for you, Jho," Aiah sighed, looking exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes visible despite the concealer. "Muntik na akong matanggal sa board meeting kanina kakapagtanggol sa'yo. They wanted to cut your losses today. Immediately."
"Then let me finish the film," Jhoanna pleaded, her voice small, stripped of all arrogance. She leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of the desk. "Please, Ate. This is all I have left. If I don't finish this... wala na."
"It wasn't just about stopping, Jho," Aiah said, shaking her head. "The board wanted to scrap your current cut completely. Gusto nilang palitan ang script, gawing light drama, fire the current cast, and reshoot everything using the same sets just to salvage the capital."
"Luh?" Maloi spoke up after being quiet the whole time, her eyes widening behind her red glasses. "Seriously? Wouldn't that be... like, ewan, mas dadagdag pa sa gastos? Uulitin yung production, babayaran ulit yung crew... that's double the budget for a movie they already hate?"
"Exactly," Aiah pointed a finger at Maloi. "It's financial suicide. But they were desperate. They'd rather spend money on a generic Hallmark movie than finish your 'artsy masterpiece' that no one will watch."
"Alam mo, ang lala nila Lola," Sheena suddenly spoke up from the couch. Her voice wasn't playful this time; it was low and surprisingly annoyed.
Everyone looked at her.
"What?" Sheena sat up straight, crossing her arms. "Totoo naman eh. I was at the family dinner last Sunday, and narinig ko sila talking about 'asset liquidation' chuchu. Ang unfair lang, kasi..." Sheena looked at Jhoanna, her expression softening. "Teh, nakita ko yung dailies niyo kahapon nung dumaan ako sa editing room. Yung shot ni Spencer sa salamin? Ang ganda kaya. It's giving cinema. Sayang naman kung itatapon lang nila 'yun dahil lang gusto nila ng quick cash grab."
Jhoanna looked at Sheena, surprised. It was rare for the younger girl to speak sense, let alone defend Jhoanna's work against her own family.
"Tax write-off lang habol nila, Teh," Sheena continued, shaking her head. "Wala silang pake sa art mo. They just want the numbers to look clean sa quarterly report. It's stupid."
"Sheena's right," Aiah admitted with a sigh. "I told them the only way to save money—and face—is to let you finish what you started, release it, and move on."
"And?" Jhoanna asked.
"And they agreed," Aiah paused, her expression hardening, the producer mask slipping back into place. "But they gave an ultimatum. They offered two options. Option A: We shelve your current project effective immediately—lock the footage in the vault, write it off as a tax loss, and you start pre-production on the new 'Blind Contract' project tomorrow."
"Parang mga gago naman 'yan," Maloi muttered, unable to help herself. "Edi sana sinabi na nila nung pre-prod pa lang na ayaw nila, 'di sana hindi na tayo nagpakapagod mag-setup ng mga shots kung ipapa-shelve lang din pala."
"They did," Jhoanna whispered, her voice barely audible.
Maloi looked at her, confused. "Ha?"
"They already warned me," Jhoanna admitted, looking down at her hands. "When I pitched this concept... sinabi na nila na risky. They told me it wouldn't sell. They told me to stick to rom-coms."
Aiah sighed, a sound heavy with exhaustion. "But you still proceeded."
"Because I had to!" Jhoanna looked up, eyes blazing with a fading fire. "Kasi sawang-sawa na ako gumawa ng pelikula na walang laman, Ate! I wanted to make something real!"
"And that reality cost us fifteen million pesos that we don't have," Aiah countered, her voice sharp. "So here we are at Option B. The option I fought for."
Aiah tapped the single sheet of paper on the desk — the contract amendment.
"I convinced them not to shelve your movie. You get your two days. You get to finish your 'masterpiece'. But in exchange, you sign this immediately."
Jhoanna looked at the paper. BLIND CONTRACT.
"Yes. It's the collateral," Aiah explained. "You finish your indie film, but your next project is theirs. Their script. Their budget. And most importantly... their lead actress."
"So I'm selling my future to save my present," Jhoanna muttered, the bitterness coating her tongue.
"You're saving your career, Jho," Aiah corrected. "If you don't sign this, the studio drops you. You become an indie director with no funding, no distribution, and a reputation for losing money. Is that what you want?"
Jhoanna looked at Maloi. Maloi didn't say anything, but her silence spoke volumes. Sign it, Jho. We need jobs.
She looked at Sheena.
Sheena gave her a firm nod. "Pirmahan mo na, Teh. Kaya mo naman yan eh. Kahit sino pa ibato nila sayo — kahit hollow block pa yan — mapapa-arte mo yan. Ikaw pa ba?"
Jhoanna let out a shaky breath. She thought about Janine and Spencer on the set, pouring their hearts out. She thought about the lighting she had perfected. She thought about the story she wanted to tell.
She couldn't let it die. Not like this.
"Is she..." Jhoanna hesitated, her hand hovering over the pen she had unconsciously picked up. "Is the lead actress at least talented? Or is she just some influencer na puro TikTok dance craze lang ang alam?"
Aiah paused. She looked down at her desk, avoiding Jhoanna's gaze for a split second.
"She's... effective," Aiah said carefully. "The camera loves her."
"Effective means mediocre," Jhoanna muttered, shaking her head. "Bahala na. I can direct a hollow block if I have to. Just give me my shooting days."
She signed the paper with aggressive, jagged strokes. The sound of the pen scratching against the paper was the only sound in the room.
Jhoanna Robles.
She slid the paper back across the glass desk. "Are we done? Can I go back to the set now?"
Aiah took the contract, staring at the signature like it was a death sentence. She placed it slowly into the folder.
"We're done," Aiah whispered. "Just... Jho."
"What?" Jhoanna snapped, standing up and grabbing her bag.
"The table read for the new project is on Monday. 9 AM. Conference B." Aiah's eyes were sad. "Prepare yourself."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'll be there." Jhoanna turned to the door, desperate to leave the room that smelled like failure. "Let's go, Ate Maloi, Sheena. We have a movie to finish."
"Ha? Eh pina-uwi na namin yung mga crew kanina, 'di ba?" Sheena pointed out, staying seated for a moment, looking confused. "Nasa MRT na siguro yung mga 'yon, Teh. Alangan naman hatakin ko pabalik?"
"Edi pabalikin," Jhoanna shot back without breaking stride, slamming her hand on the elevator button. "Tawagan mo lahat. Ngayon na. Offer double pay if you have to. Just get them back on set."
"Luh, anong double pay?" Sheena argued, eyebrows furrowed. "Eh diba nga ni-reject nila na mag-add pa ng budget? Paano tayo mag-ooffer ng double pay kung kulang na nga tayo sa datung?"
"Edi ako ang magpapasweldo sa kanila. May ipon pa naman ako," Jhoanna said, though her frown deepened. She refused to look at them.
"Jho, seryoso?" Maloi asked, jogging slightly to keep up, her tool belt clanking. "Savings mo na 'yun para sa rent mo next month ah? Ubos na ubos ka na."
"Kailangan ko lang matapos tong project ko, Ate," Jhoanna whispered, almost pleadingly. "Please."
Maloi sighed, defeated by Jhoanna's stubbornness. "Pero Jho, we have two days left. Nasa 80% pa lang tayo. Yung lighting setup pa lang sa final sequence, three hours na 'yun. Hindi aabot."
"We don't have the luxury to rest and ponder, Ate Maloi," Jhoanna said, her eyes fixed on the steel doors of the elevator as they finally slid open. "We only have 48 hours before the deadline cuts us off. Wala tayong sasayangin na segundo."
"Kaya ba 'yon? Tao lang din kami, Jho," Maloi pressed, worry creasing her forehead as they stepped inside.
"Kakayanin," Jhoanna said, her jaw set tight.
Sheena shook her head, typing furiously on her phone to summon the crew back, already calculating how much of Jhoanna's savings would burn tonight.
"Tangina," Sheena muttered, following them into the lift. "Papatay ka ata ng tao, Teh."
The elevator doors pinged shut, swallowing Jhoanna and her exhausted team, leaving the 30th floor in silence.
·•—–٠✤٠—–•·
Silence reclaimed the office the moment they left.
Aiah let out a long, shaky breath she had been holding for the last twenty minutes. She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the Makati skyline. The city looked beautiful from up here—orderly, bright, distant.
It was a stark contrast to the mess she had just created.
She turned back to her desk and opened the bottom drawer—the one she kept locked. She pulled out the thick, dusty manuscript held together by a rusty binder clip. She ran her fingers over the title page, the paper yellowing with age.
KUNG PAANO KITA PINATAY (SA ISIP KO)
Written by: Jhoanna Robles (2027)
Aiah remembered the year Jhoanna wrote this. It was the year Stacey won her first Best Actress award. It was the year Jhoanna stopped smiling.
She picked up her phone and dialed a number. It rang twice before someone picked up.
"Hello? Gwen?" Aiah said, her voice regaining its steely, executive tone.
"Oh? Napatawag ka, Madam Producer? Himala," Gwen Apuli's voice drawled on the other line, likely from a photoshoot. "Don't tell me you're cancelling the contract for the billboards?"
"No," Aiah said, staring at Jhoanna's script. "I need you to do something for me."
"What is it?"
"Tell Stacey to clear her schedule for the next three months," Aiah said. "We got the director."
"Oh? Who is it? Someone famous?"
Aiah paused. She traced the name Jhoanna Robles on the cover page.
"Someone... effective," Aiah whispered. "And Gwen? Tell Stacey she better be ready."
"Ready for what?"
"To bleed."
Aiah ended the call and dropped the phone on the desk. She looked at the script one last time before closing the folder.
"God forgive me," she muttered to the empty room.