Chapter 8: When He Asked Why She Went Blind
There was something about the late afternoon light in South Korea that made everything feel like a dream—the orange sky pouring itself onto rooftops, the way it softened the cold wind, the smell of street food wafting through alleys. But for Erica Salcedo, it was just warmth on her skin and sound in her ears.
They were walking side by side along the banks of Han River, where couples sat on picnic mats and children chased each other with kites. Erica couldn't see any of it. But she could feel the laughter. She could hear the joy.
And beside her, Jepoy held her hand—not tightly, not possessively, but like a guide who didn’t mind slowing down with her. He was always a step behind, as if he knew she didn’t want to feel like she was being pulled.
“Okay ka pa?” he asked quietly.
Erica nodded, smiling faintly. “My legs are fine. My soul? Maybe not so much.”
Jepoy chuckled softly. “Saan ba pwedeng ipamasahe ang soul?”
She laughed too, and he was proud of that. That laugh—it was like sunlight breaking through fog.
They had spent the whole afternoon walking through Bukchon Hanok Village, letting Erica feel the wooden texture of old homes, the curve of ceramic rooftops, and the uneven stones under her feet. She didn’t say much. But she always turned her head when street performers played drums, or when kids sang in the distance. Jepoy noticed.
Now, as they sat on a bench overlooking the gentle waves of the river, Jepoy passed her a can of soda. Erica accepted it with both hands, bowing slightly. “Thanks.”
He opened his for himself, taking a small sip, before glancing at her. She was running her fingers along the edge of the can, not drinking yet. Her lips were slightly parted, as if trying to memorize the moment through senses she still had.
Jepoy swallowed. There was a question burning at the tip of his tongue.
He had wanted to ask for days now. Since the first time she drank from his soda at the convenience store. Since the moment he noticed the cane she carried but never used as much. Since she cried while holding a cup of noodles like it was the only warm thing in her life.
He finally asked.
“Erica… bakit ka nawalan ng paningin?”
The air stilled.
She lowered the can to her lap. “Straight to the point ka, no?” Her voice was soft, not angry.
“I’m sorry. Kung ayaw mo—”
“No,” she cut him off. “It’s okay. You’re one of the few who actually asked instead of assuming.”
Jepoy waited. Gently. Patiently.
Erica leaned back, head tilted up as if to face the sun she couldn’t see. “It’s not medical. Not in the traditional sense.”
“You mean…?”
“I wasn’t born blind. I didn’t have any accident. No injury. No tumor or infection.”
“Then…”
She inhaled deeply. “Conversion disorder. That’s what the doctors called it. Non-organic vision loss. Psychological, not physical.”
Jepoy furrowed his brows. “So… your body shut your eyes… because of something emotional?”
“Yes.” She turned her head toward his voice. “Because everything I trusted collapsed all at once. My best friend sold everything I had behind my back. The man I loved—he was part of it. He planned it.”
Jepoy didn’t know what to say. His fingers curled tightly around his can.
“I woke up one day, and the world was dark. Not because of trauma to my brain, but because my brain… refused to see.”
He felt his throat close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I’m not.” Erica smiled faintly. “Not anymore. The world I used to see was cruel. The darkness was… a relief.”
Jepoy couldn’t look at her long. She was too beautiful for that kind of pain.
“I left the Philippines because I needed space to breathe. Korea was the last place I could afford to go. I didn’t expect to find someone kind enough to… walk slow with me.”
He blinked, surprised. “You mean me?”
She nodded. “You don’t ask for too much. You don’t pity me. You just… exist beside me. That’s rare.”
He looked down. “I never knew what to say to someone like you.”
“I never wanted words. Just presence.”
There was silence between them—soft, not awkward. The kind that exists only between two people trying to rebuild themselves without making noise about it.
After a while, Jepoy leaned his elbows on his knees, watching the ripples in the water.
“If you ever see again,” he said slowly, “will you still remember my face?”
She smiled. “No. But I’ll remember your rhythm.”
He blinked. “My what?”
“Your steps. The way you laugh. How you open soda cans. Your drumbeats. I’m already painting your soul with sounds.”
Jepoy chuckled, feeling his heart clench. “Then I’ll make sure to never go quiet.”
Erica turned her head, sensing the emotion in his tone. “Don’t fall for me, Jepoy,” she said suddenly.
His chest tightened. “Why not?”
“Because I’m still healing. I might leave.”
He looked at her, voice low. “Then I’ll fall anyway. Even if I have to memorize you through the silence.”
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