It was thirty minutes before flight time when the taxi reached the Manila International Airport, renamed Ninoy Aquino International Airport after the 1986 February Revolution against the regime of President Marcos.
The fare reached 286 pesos.
She gave 300 pesos to the taxi driver and told him to keep the change.
The taxi driver hurriedly took her baggage from the trunk, as she went out of the car.
"Ma'am, may I help you," a young man told her as he took the baggage from the taxi driver. It was the aide of Lt. Michael Biazon.
Another man in maong pants and jacket, sporting Corvette sunglasses, approached her.
"You're late, Madame," he quipped.
She turned to him. It was Lt. Biazon.
She smiled, got near him, and held his hand.
"Michael, I'm sorry. The traffic at EDSA was awful," she reasoned out.
"Okay, let's go in before the plane leaves you. But first your favorite," he said as he handed her a dozen of white Chrysanthemums carefully wrapped in cellophane paper.
"Thanks, dear. You're always thoughtful," she said as they went to the departure area.
The guard at the departure gate saluted as they passed through.
"I love you, Chrys, very much," he reassured her.
"If your love is real, when will you marry me? When you're already a general?" she kidded him.
Michael laughed as he looked at her.
"I thought you have learned well the art of patience," he commented.
She pouted to show her displeasure at his reply.
"Don't worry, you'll soon be Mrs. Biazon. Promise!" he said with a loving look.
To a woman like her, the promise was pleasant to hear, but less convincing this time because Michael had already told it to her twice.
The conversation stopped as they approached the Philippine Airlines booth.
She gave her passport and ticket to the ground stewardess.
"How many baggages, Ma'am?" the stewardess asked.
"Just one," Chrys replied as the ground stewardess checked her passport and ticket.
The stewardess handed them back to her. "Okay, Ma'am!"
"Let's go," Michael put his arm on her back, a gesture of appeasement.
They hurriedly proceeded to the immigration gate.
"Michael, take care of yourself," she told him with tenderness.
"I will. For you," he answered, as he nodded with a smile.
He kissed her. Then, he let her go.
<< Return to Chapter 1 | Proceed to Chapter 3 >>
The fare reached 286 pesos.
She gave 300 pesos to the taxi driver and told him to keep the change.
The taxi driver hurriedly took her baggage from the trunk, as she went out of the car.
"Ma'am, may I help you," a young man told her as he took the baggage from the taxi driver. It was the aide of Lt. Michael Biazon.
Another man in maong pants and jacket, sporting Corvette sunglasses, approached her.
"You're late, Madame," he quipped.
She turned to him. It was Lt. Biazon.
She smiled, got near him, and held his hand.
"Michael, I'm sorry. The traffic at EDSA was awful," she reasoned out.
"Okay, let's go in before the plane leaves you. But first your favorite," he said as he handed her a dozen of white Chrysanthemums carefully wrapped in cellophane paper.
"Thanks, dear. You're always thoughtful," she said as they went to the departure area.
The guard at the departure gate saluted as they passed through.
"I love you, Chrys, very much," he reassured her.
"If your love is real, when will you marry me? When you're already a general?" she kidded him.
Michael laughed as he looked at her.
"I thought you have learned well the art of patience," he commented.
She pouted to show her displeasure at his reply.
"Don't worry, you'll soon be Mrs. Biazon. Promise!" he said with a loving look.
To a woman like her, the promise was pleasant to hear, but less convincing this time because Michael had already told it to her twice.
The conversation stopped as they approached the Philippine Airlines booth.
She gave her passport and ticket to the ground stewardess.
"How many baggages, Ma'am?" the stewardess asked.
"Just one," Chrys replied as the ground stewardess checked her passport and ticket.
The stewardess handed them back to her. "Okay, Ma'am!"
"Let's go," Michael put his arm on her back, a gesture of appeasement.
They hurriedly proceeded to the immigration gate.
"Michael, take care of yourself," she told him with tenderness.
"I will. For you," he answered, as he nodded with a smile.
He kissed her. Then, he let her go.
<< Return to Chapter 1 | Proceed to Chapter 3 >>
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