C4 Not So Perfect Perfectionist

"I'll talk to you and Connie tomorrow at the same time about... what happened," Rome said as she got out of the car, peeking through the front seat window to bid her goodbye to Jiggy.

Jiggy remained silent, but she could see the sadness and concern in her eyes.

Jiggy could still not fathom how and why she fell into that devil's charm.

Well— she did not. And she never would.

Tomorrow, after the Sunday mass, she would invite her sister to go to their favorite coffee shop where Jiggy would wait for them.

Her sister Connie and Jiggy were the only people she could trust in her secrets. Plus, she needed their help to solve her problem. She knew she could not just make this alone. She needed their support.

"You better give us a clear and valid explanation, Rome. I will not accept the superficial reason when it comes to that man."

She released a sad smile. "Drive safely, Jigs."

Jiggy said nothing before closing the front seat window and driving off.

She stood there as she waited for Jiggy's car to disappear from her sight, and when it did, she let out another deep sigh. Her eyes were on the road, but her attention wandered somewhere else. It went to the time when she last saw his face.

"I've done everything to protect my family's name and dignity, Cayson Montemayor. The town and the people at school respect my family. So, I hope we could just forget what had happened last night and take that secret to our graves. No one should know, do you understand?"

"I don't kiss and tell, Rosenda Marie Cinco."

Oh! She felt like throwing up every time she remembered that dreadful morning. Waking up in an unfamiliar bed, aching all over, with a naked man lying beside her.

They both had made a mistake that night. A mistake that produced them a child.

What would she do now? She couldn't bear giving her family this kind of humiliation. Her conscience would hunt her down. Her parents would surely disown her, her aunties would never glance at her the same way again, and they probably wouldn't even speak to her anymore. The people around them would surely laugh and make fun of them. Her pregnancy would ruin their family's name!

Oh, what am I supposed to do? She couldn't stop biting her thumbnail in panic.

What am I going to do to save my family from humiliation?

Abortion?

She gasped aloud at the final thought. Her hands then trekked down to touch her tummy.

No! Never!

Her pregnancy maybe something she didn't plan, but she would never, ever, hurt her baby!

She adored children, and she could never hurt them, let alone her very own child. Her fondness for kids convinced her to become a teacher, and it was a decision her parents and her entire family didn't push on her. So, why would she hurt and not give her own child a chance to live?

She wouldn’t deny her baby to live in this world! She would find a solution to her problem. She would think of a solution to avoid giving her family another embarrassment.

Perhaps she could pretend that the school she was working at had assigned her to another town? She would make sure Connie and Jiggy would help her accomplish that!

However, their family was not stupid. They would surely speak to the Montessori and ask about her transfer. They would investigate, and they would surely... eventually... learn about her lies.

That leaves Cayson Montemayor her final option.

‘"...let's forget about last night and pretend nothing happened, Rosenda Marie."

Cayson's voice when he said those words echoed in her mind.

She released a deep breath and caressed her stomach once more.

"I need to talk to that guy. He needs to save my entire family from humiliation."

***

Rome stood at the front door, unable to take another step, as she listened to the loud giggles and chitchats coming from the veranda. She couldn't decide whether to get in or just run as far as she could, never coming back again.

She was so scared for her life. The anxiety of her pregnancy was doing her head in.

"Hey, what are you doing standing there?"

She turned to the left side of the living area and saw her mother holding a teapot, walking toward the direction of the veranda.

"Where have you been the whole afternoon?" her mother added.

She cleared her throat and forced a smile. "I just... strolled around town."

"Strolled around town?" Her mother stopped and gave her a curious gaze from her head to the tip of her doll shoes. "That is so unlike you, honey."

She said nothing and continued to walk in. She then closed the door behind her and glanced at the veranda that was connected to the living room. There she saw her four aunties sitting at the bamboo-made furniture set, chitchatting as they sipped their tea.

"Anyway, come join us, honey." Her mother continued to walk towards the veranda.

She wanted to decline and tell her mom that she wasn't feeling well, but then, one of her aunties spotted and called her.

"Rosenda Marie; hi!"

She cursed under her breath, forcing another smile before following her mother.

"Hey, aunties. Good afternoon," she greeted, stopping at the sliding door. Her heart was racing in anxiety. She didn't want anyone to notice the discomfort on her face.

Because she knew... that no matter how much she tried to smile or pretend that she was happy, her aunties would surely notice that hint in her face and voice.

They could easily tell if something was bothering her. Because why not? All their lives, she and her sister Connie were always on the watch. Most especially her.

They actually had a cousin who was the eldest in their generation. His name was Donny, and he was the only son of her Auntie Maritess; her mom's eldest sister. But because he was a guy, her aunties thought they didn't have to be overprotective of him. Thus, she and Connie became the focus; the center of attention; the apples of their eyes.

All their actions were calculated, even their friends and phone contacts got investigated.

They did not have the freedom to choose what they wanted; clothing, books and magazines to read, movies and shows to watch, and the list went on.

In summary, the whole family knew her from the strand of her hair to the tip of her toenail.