Plucking Daisies

That night, Aurora sat by the window, her chin resting on her crossed arms as she leaned on the windowsill. Outside, the trees swayed gently in the wind. The leaves rustled softly in the dark. She watched without focus, her mind drifting with the breeze.

Her grandmother sat beside her, combing gently through her hair.

They didn’t talk for a while. Then, Grandma broke the silence.

“So… did the curse work?”

Aurora exhaled through her nose. “Yeah,” she said. “Unfortunately.”

Grandma chuckled, nodding. There was another pause.

“Wanna know a secret?”

Aurora gave a soft hum in response.

“I made that spell.”

Aurora looked at her.

Grandma smirked. “When I was your age, I had a little crush on a boy. Albularyo boy, too. Cute, tall, knew all the healing herbs like the back of his hand.”

Aurora blinked. “Wait—what?”

“At that time,” Grandma continued, ignoring her reaction, “being friends with an albularyo is a bad thing. My whole clan would’ve disowned me. So out of spite, I made the spell. Just enough to push him away.”

Aurora turned toward her completely now, genuinely listening.

“What happened?”

Grandma leaned back in her seat, laughing quietly at the memory. “Didn’t work.”

Aurora raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because,” Grandma said, “he confronted me. Told me straight to my face—‘It won’t work because I don’t love you.’”

Aurora let out a groan and clutched her chest in mock pain. “Ouch. What happened after that?”

“He left,” Grandma said simply. “Just walked away.”

Aurora sank back into her arms and rested her chin on the sill again, staring out the window. Her chest felt tight again, but not in a painful way. More like she understood something she hadn’t before.

“Years later, I was accused of hexing someone. I had nothing to do with it."

She paused, letting that hang in the air.

“Then, out of nowhere, this young albularyo showed up again. Said I was innocent. Defended me like a lawyer in court.”

Aurora’s eyes lit up, turning toward her. “Wait… was it…?”

Grandma nodded. “Yep. Same boy. We met again. He said he remembered me.”

“And…?”

“We got married two years later.”

Aurora gasped. She turned her head toward the old family painting hanging above the living room archway. In it, a young couple smiled stiffly at the camera—her grandmother in a traditional dress, holding the hand of a quiet man with gentle eyes.

Her eyes widened. “Grandpa? Lolo was an albularyo?!”

Grandma cackled, completely unbothered. “Mmhmm. Pure-blooded, too.”

“How?!”

“I told him the truth. After all those years. What I felt. What I hid. He laughed. Then said he’d been waiting for me to say it.”

Aurora paused, her fingers brushing the edge of the windowsill.

Grandma reached out and touched her hand. “It’s human to be scared, anak. We push people away when we feel unworthy. But where fear grows, love can also grow. Take care of it while it’s still there.”

Aurora was quiet. The words sat with her. She didn’t reject them. Didn’t nod either. Just… kept still.

Then, with a sniffle, a small grin tugged at her lips. “Did you use gayuma on Lolo, too?”

Grandma’s face lit up. “Of course I did!”

“Did it work?”

“Nope!” Grandma laughed. “He said it tasted like dead roots. Swore off tea for weeks.”

Aurora laughed, leaning into her grandmother’s shoulder. For the first time that day, the weight in her chest felt a little lighter.

— • —

The morning air was cool and still. Aurora walked along the empty street, head slightly bowed, holding a small flower between her fingers. Her thumb plucked gently at each petal as she walked.

“He loves me…”

Pluck.

“He loves me not…”

“He loves me…”

“He loves me not…”

By the time she reached the last petal, only the stem remained.

“…He loves me.”

She stopped walking and stared at the sad, petal-less flower in her hand.

With an annoyed grunt, she ruffled her hair with both hands. “Seriously? I’m doing this?” she groaned. “This is stupid.”

She threw the stem into a bush and sighed.

Pulling out her phone, she opened her messages and scrolled through the conversation with Luningning.

Aurora hesitated, then tapped out a message.

Aurora:
Is there a way to undo the gayuma effect?

She stared at the screen. Then hit send.

— • —

At Luningning’s Corner, Luningning sat on her couch, one leg tucked under the other, sipping coffee as “City Hunter” played. She squinted at her phone when the notification popped up.

She read the message and rolled her eyes. Still, she texted back.

Luningning:
Just confess.

Short. Ambiguous. Annoyingly vague.

She smirked, took another sip of coffee, and chuckled. “Crazy girl.”

— • —

Aurora read the message and grimaced.

“Confess what?” she whispered, half-panicked. She quickly typed again:

Aurora:
How do I do that?

She waited.

The message turned blue. Seen.

That was it. No reply. No typing bubbles. Just silence.

Aurora let out a long sigh, pocketed her phone, and muttered, “I’ll just wing it myself.”

She kept walking.

— • —

Victor’s house appeared at the end of the block. The paint was a little faded, but it was still the same house—same front gate.

Aurora stopped in front of it, her heart thudding.

She looked up toward the window on the second floor—Victor’s room.

A memory hit her. Him leaning out of that very window, shouting at her to stop stealing their guavas. Her throwing a slipper at him. Him laughing.

The door creaked open.

Victor’s mother stepped out, wiping her hands on a rag.

“Oh, Orang!” she called cheerfully. “Are you looking for Ikong?”

She nodded shyly.

Victor’s mom smiled and stepped back inside.

A minute passed. She came back out.

“He’s not feeling well,” she said with a hint of concern. “Didn’t even eat breakfast. Just lying in bed.”

Aurora frowned.

She took one big breath… then stepped back from the gate, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted toward the second-floor window.

“I ADMIT I USED GAYUMA ON YOU!” she yelled. “AND I’M TAKING THE CURSE BACK!”

The echo bounced down the street.

Victor’s mom was stunned. Then she covered her mouth with a hand, her eyes twinkling. She gave Aurora a playful smirk, turned around, and walked back inside.

Aurora stood frozen in horror, arms slowly lowering. But it was done.

Her face burned. Her knees almost gave out. She just stood there. Dying inside.

Then, the front door creaked open again.

Out stepped a young man—messy hair, big glasses, loose-fitting camisa de chino, and soft house pants.

“Uh… who are you?” Aurora squinted.

“It’s me, Victor. And what’s the fuss?”

She stared a little too long.

Then burst out laughing.

“Is that really you? Are you possessed?!”

Victor sighed, rubbing his neck. “This is just me at home. Don’t laugh.”

Aurora kept laughing, louder this time.

“Okay, I’m going back in.”

“No—no, wait—sorry!” she said, breathless, holding her sides.

She finally stopped, wiping her eyes. Then she smiled.

A little later, the two of them sat on a concrete park bench near the basketball court. Each of them had a cup of milk tea in hand. Aurora sipped quietly while stealing glances at Victor, still in full home attire.

He slurped on his drink without a care.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Victor glanced sideways.

“For the gayuma. The curse. Everything.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright. At least now I know how you feel.” He nodded. “Also… sorry if I came off as too clingy. I didn’t mean to push anything.”

“You were kind of clingy.” She smiled, her gaze falling on her drink. Then she hesitated.

“Hey, about...”

“The curse?” Victor leaned back against the bench. “My parents noticed a voodoo spirit around me that night. They exorcised it immediately. Easy.

“Oh,” she said, scratching her cheek.

“As for the gayuma…” He took a long sip, then looked at her. “You owe me a new bathroom.”

She groaned. “That bad?”

“I almost slept in it.”

She winced. “Sorry.”

Victor dismissed it casually. “Anyway, it wouldn’t have worked.”

She froze.

Their eyes locked. The breeze moved gently past them. Nothing else stirred. Just a silent understanding.

Then, Victor held out his hand.

“So,” he said. “Can we start over?”

Aurora’s chest swelled. Her lips curved slowly into a smile.

She reached out and shook his hand.

A small silence passed between them.

Then Victor leaned in slightly and muttered, “Konti nalang, gagayumahin na din sana kita e.”

Aurora snorted. “Hindi yun gagana, siraulo.”

They paused. And they laughed. Together.

This time, no spells were needed.

— • —

Author's notes:

Victor and Aurora's final lines are loosely translated as:

Konti nalang, gagayumahin na din sana kita e. - Just a bit more and I would have used gayuma on you too.

Hindi yun gagana, siraulo. - That won't work, idiot.