The Choices We Make

Chapter 4

Yanna

In Filipino teleseryes, the revelation of a secret baby usually entailed dramatic scenes where a character goes through the stages of acceptance. Sometimes, it was followed by a lengthy exchange of conversations unearthing hurts, rubbing salt over wounds, or even ripping open old wounds, ending in someone walking out, leaving the other in tears.

But they weren’t in a teleserye. And though DJ was too easy to read, he also took pride in being calm no matter the stress it caused him. 

Level-headedness was among the many traits they shared. No tempers flared, no voices raised whenever they had an argument. They only resorted to silent treatment, or time away from each other. With Yanna the one asking for time out. And each time, DJ waited for her to come around. And she did. She always did. This situation was no different. It just took a long while and admittedly, the interference of their friends to get things going.

Just like those times, he didn’t prod even when his jaw worked overtime, probably fighting the urge to ask. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Yanna finally said, with her back ram-rod straight. “I didn’t know how. Danielle is still in school and I didn’t…” she racked her brain for words to defend her going off the grid, but settled with, “...I didn’t want to add to your burden.” 

It wasn't a lie though. Yanna's career was just one of the reasons why she didn't want to settle down in his province. She also knew that DJ had too many responsibilities towards his siblings and relatives who helped him and the twins. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to leave the nest either.

"She's got a job now," he told her, absentmindedly, his gaze still fixed on her midsection.

"That's great."If she could just move quicker, Yanna would have gone to give him a hug because his relief was palpable. She knew how much of an achievement it was for him and his sisters. “Are you looking for a new job…?” She left the word ‘here’ unsaid, and clamped on the hope that might show on her face.

“I’m on leave. For a week. Kyle asked me to house-sit while he’s on vacation with...”

“...with Rhea. Yes,” she supplied. “They really like orchestrating stuff,” she commented, to which he gave a weak chuckle.

There was an uncomfortable silence that followed as Yanna watched how DJ looked around her unit.

"I have help. From friends and colleagues. If you’re going to ask how I manage,” she offered because the question was visible in how his gaze locked on to the pile of obvious baby things to the still unwashed dishes by the sink. “Rhea takes me to my OB appointments if she’s free. And my cousin is staying with me for now. She just went out for some me-time. Work hasn’t been stressful, too. The restructuring project was over before I knew I was pregnant.”

"How far along…?"

"Eight months."

DJ’s head bobbed up and down, as if calculating the days in his head, his eyes shifting from her face to her belly again. “Was it when you and your mom had a fight and we got drunk..?”

Her chest constricted. Yanna was prepared for him to assume she slept around unsafe, or to deny that the baby was his, like how it went down in teleseryes. But DJ didn’t. And oh, how she wanted to weep, grateful that he didn’t think the worst of her. 

Yanna cleared her throat and managed to grin at the memory. “Yes. Yes, I think it was.” It was after one of those heated phone conversations with her mother still going on about Yanna migrating to the US. The plan was for her to take additional units until she could work as a registered nurse and practice her license. She was so mad and wanted to lash out, wanted to do something that would defy her parents’ need to control her life. Thirty seven weeks later and she did not regret a thing. In spite of what happened between her and DJ. “Do you want anything? Water...tea…?"