Margin of Error

Chapter Twenty-Two

The sun was already dipping low when I arrived at the site. The second day always felt busier families, couples, groups of friends all buzzing with that mix of excitement and the faint sadness that the festival would end tonight.

"Dea, here's the updated waste map," one of the new volunteers said, handing me a laminated sheet. I smiled, thanked him, and slipped into work mode.

From the stage, the taiko drums thundered, and the air smelled like grilled squid and yakisoba. It was almost enough to drown out the knot in my stomach, almost.

Because she was here. Mira. Again.

She wasn't even trying to avoid me this time. She passed close by, laughing with her friends, her perfume threading through the humid air like a trap. My grip on the eco-warrior badge around my neck tightened.

"Ms. Cruz."

I turned, and there was Professor Castro, looking effortlessly composed in a cream blouse and tailored pants, like she didn't just walk into a humid festival ground. "Your station looks organized," she said, glancing around.

"Thank you, ma'am," I replied, forcing my voice steady.

Her gaze slid over my shoulder, and I knew instantly she'd spotted Mira. "She's here again," she murmured, almost to herself, but her eyes didn't leave mine.

"Yes," I answered, short and clipped.

"I was hoping you'd explain yesterday's reaction," she said.

I busied myself straightening the bin covers. "Wala pong problema. I can handle it."

"That's not what I asked."

Her tone was soft but sharp enough to cut through the noise of the crowd. I swallowed hard, not trusting myself to answer.

A call from the main stage saved me. One of my volunteers was waving frantically, overflowing bins near the food stalls. I excused myself, jogging toward the mess, directing my team to sort recyclables from residual waste.

Even in the middle of barking instructions "Bottles here, plastics there, faster guys, bilis!" I could feel her watching me.

When the bins were cleared and I finally turned back, she was still there, leaning against the rail.

"You didn't run," she said quietly when I walked up.

"Why would I?"

"Because she clearly unsettles you. And yet you stayed, you led, you kept the chaos under control."

Her eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I thought she might actually press me for the truth. Instead, she smiled faintly. "Impressive, Ms. Cruz. I mean that."

Before I could respond, Mira's laugh rang out again from somewhere behind me. And I knew Eliza had heard it too. The way her gaze flicked in that direction was subtle, but it wasn't casual.

She was connecting dots.

The last fireworks had faded, and most of the crowd was already trickling out. Our team was gathering the last sacks of collected waste when I felt someone step into my space.

"Dea."

That voice. I froze before I could stop myself. Slowly, I turned, and there was Mira, still in that same summer dress from earlier, her hair a little messy from the night air.

"We need to talk," she said.

I glanced at my volunteers busy in the distance. "We don't," I replied flatly, trying to walk past her.