After dinner, Aunt Nena smiled at Erica, her eyes twinkling with warmth. "You can use the other room, dear. It's all yours!"

Erica nodded, her mind already buzzing with thoughts of settling in. This is it, then. I'm here for good. As she fixed her things in the room, she noticed a few pieces of clothing hanging in the closet - men's shirts and a pair of worn-out jeans. What are those doing here? She frowned but quickly shrugged it off. Maybe Aunt Nena has a guest?

Later that night, the house fell silent. Erica was deep in sleep when she was jolted awake by the sound of movement. Who's that? She squinted through the dim light, blinking as her eyes adjusted. She froze in place when she saw the silhouette of a tall, topless man changing his clothes.

Her heart raced, and she gasped when the man flipped the light switch. Oh my God, he's so sexy. Her face burned red as she quickly averted her gaze, but it was too late - his toned body was already burned into her memory.

"Who are you?" Erica shouted, panic flooding her voice. "Don't do anything!"

The man turned, his deep voice cutting through the air with a sharp edge. "Who are you? You're the one in my room."

Erica's breath caught in her throat. What is going on? She glanced around, still trying to make sense of the situation. "What room? I thought this was Aunt Nena's husband's room or some sort of visitor's room." She stammered, confusion flooding her thoughts.

"I have no father, you idiot. I only have my mom - Aunt Nena." The man's voice was filled with irritation, his sharp gaze piercing through her. "Now, what are you doing here, and who are you?"

Oh no, this is not good. Erica's mind raced. What a way to introduce myself. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "Aunt Nena let me use this room. By the way, I'm Erica Villanueva, daughter of Brandon Villanueva, the owner of your perfume you're using." She gestured toward the bottle of blue perfume on the counter, hoping the name would get his attention.

The man raised one eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Then what in the world is someone like you doing here in this rural area if you're the daughter of this brand?"

Erica hesitated, unsure of how to explain. Why does he sound so unimpressed? But she pushed on. "I was... um, exiled here as a punishment by my father." Her voice faltered. "I'm rich, and he thought I needed to learn a lesson about life outside the city."

The man's face remained blank, his gaze never softening. He leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. "Okay, go sleep. You're too noisy," he said, his tone dismissive, before he turned away and walked out of the room.

Erica blinked, feeling a mix of irritation and embarrassment. This is not how I imagined my first night here. She stood frozen for a moment, staring at the empty doorway.

She couldn't believe how casually he'd dismissed her - just like that. He didn't even care about my last name! She sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She could feel her cheeks still burning from the awkwardness of the encounter.

Trying to calm herself, Erica lay back against the pillow, her mind racing. So that's Sam, huh? The thought of his strong presence, his cool attitude, and his body lingering in her memory made her pulse quicken once again. She shook her head, trying to focus on the events of the night.

I don't need to be thinking about him.

The tension from the encounter still hung in the air, but Erica knew she needed sleep. She closed her eyes, but her mind refused to quiet. The room felt colder now, the silence heavier. This is going to be a long stay. She turned over, pulling the blankets tighter around herself. I just need to get through this. One day at a time.

Despite her exhaustion, sleep wouldn't come. The thought of Sam and his indifference kept her awake longer than she'd like to admit. I hope I don't have to deal with him again anytime soon.

A few hours passed, and the sounds of the night began to fill the house - the soft creaks of the floorboards, the rustling of leaves outside. But Erica remained awake, her thoughts swirling. I need to make the best of this situation. But how?

It was clear that Tuguegarao wasn't going to be anything like her life back in the city. And Sam - well, he was a mystery. A handsome, infuriating mystery. I don't think I'm ready to deal with him.

Her eyes finally began to close, but sleep remained just out of reach. Tomorrow is a new day. I can handle it.

*****

The next morning, Erica shuffled into the kitchen, her cheeks still flushed with the memory of last night. I can't believe he saw me like that. It was so awkward. She tried to shake off the thoughts as she noticed Aunt Nena humming cheerfully while preparing breakfast. The smell of something unfamiliar filled the air, and Erica's stomach churned a little at the thought of having to eat whatever it was.

Sam, however, was already awake, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Oh my god, his body is perfect. Erica couldn't help but watch him for a second, his muscles flexing with every movement as he made the coffee. He wasn't bulky, but his build was strong and lean. Why does he have to be so... so... distracting?

"Good morning!" Aunt Nena greeted them both, her smile brightening the room. "Erica, this is my son, Sam!"

Sam glanced over, his sharp eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he spoke. "Yeah, I know," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We met last night, right, Miss Erica?"

Erica felt her heart drop. Oh no, why did he have to bring that up? Her face flushed as she glanced at Aunt Nena, who looked amused by the situation.

"Oh, really? I didn't know!" Aunt Nena chuckled, clearly enjoying the awkwardness of the moment. Erica could only manage a weak smile, her embarrassment palpable. This is going to be a long summer.

Trying to focus on something else, Erica looked down at her plate, trying to mask her discomfort. "Uhm... Aunt Nena, what's this?" She stared at the food in front of her, hoping to change the subject.

"It's dried fish and scrambled eggs, dear. You don't want it?" Aunt Nena asked, her voice light and sweet.

"Uhm..." Erica hesitated, clearly unsure. "I just don't use to it. I usually eat bacon and pancakes as my diet."

Aunt Nena looked slightly taken aback but quickly recovered with a smile. "Oh dear, I'm sorry. We don't have that here, but we have hotdogs. You might like them."

"Sure, Aunt Nena!" Erica replied quickly, eager to avoid any more awkwardness.

Aunt Nena called over to Sam. "Hey, Sam, cook the remaining hotdogs for you and Erica."

Sam shot Erica a sharp look. Oh no, I think he doesn't like that. His eyes narrowed slightly as he moved toward the stove. Erica tried to ignore the tension, feeling her nerves rise again.

As they sat down to eat, the silence was thick, broken only by the occasional clink of cutlery. Then, Aunt Nena's voice cut through the quiet.

"Now that you two have met, how about helping me shop at the market today?" Aunt Nena suggested brightly, her tone full of enthusiasm.

Erica's stomach sank. Oh my gosh, is that the dirty and stinky place? She hesitated, trying to find a polite way to decline, but before she could say anything, Sam glanced at her and cut her off.

"Don't be dramatic," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You're not a princess here."

Erica froze, staring at him in disbelief. What? Is he a psychic? Did he just read my mind? Confusion washed over her as she stared at him, mouth agape.

Sam just smirked, clearly unfazed by her shock.

"Well, I'm not used to... um, markets," she mumbled, fumbling with her hair as she tried to come up with a reason not to go.

Sam's smirk deepened. "Get used to it. You'll be shopping for veggies and fresh meat. It's not as bad as you think." His voice was unbothered, almost mocking.

Erica's mind raced. I can't believe this is my life now. The thought of shopping at a rural market - where everything smelled strange and felt unfamiliar - did nothing to calm her nerves.

"Okay, Aunt Nena, let me change clothes first," Erica said, standing up quickly.

Aunt Nena continued to chatter about the day's plans, her excitement impossible to miss, but Erica barely heard her. I'll survive this. I have to. The thought lingered in her mind like a mantra. But the pit in her stomach wouldn't go away.

As she turned to leave, she glanced at Sam, who was now sitting back, his expression unreadable. I don't think I'll ever get used to him.

Her nerves only grew as she headed to her room to change. This is all so... different. I feel so out of place here. She glanced at herself in the mirror, trying to pull herself together. Get it together, Erica. You have no choice but to survive this.

The morning seemed endless as the thought of facing the market loomed large. This summer is going to be a test. I just need to make it through.

*****

After the awkward breakfast with Sam, where his teasing lingered in Erica's mind, Aunt Nena announced it was time to head to the market. Erica barely suppressed a groan. Why do I feel like every day here is going to be an ordeal? Still, she followed Aunt Nena and Sam to the truck, her head filled with dread.

As they pulled up to the market, the bustling energy hit her immediately. Vendors shouted over one another, their voices blending into a chaotic hum. Erica's nose scrunched involuntarily as an overwhelming medley of smells invaded her senses: fish, fresh produce, raw meat, and something she couldn't quite place but found particularly unpleasant.

"Oh my gosh," Erica whispered under her breath. She turned to Aunt Nena, forcing a polite smile. "It's... lively here."

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Aunt Nena replied with a grin, clearly in her element. She handed Erica a woven basket. "You'll be helping me carry the goods."

Erica looked at the basket as if it were some ancient artifact. Is this a joke? I don't even carry my own shopping bags in the city. She glanced at Sam, who was leaning against the truck with his usual unbothered expression. He caught her eye and smirked.

"Don't look so lost, Miss City Girl," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "It's just a basket. It won't bite."

"Ha-ha," Erica replied flatly, rolling her eyes. "I'm just not used to... this."

"Well, you better get used to it," he shot back, already walking toward the rows of stalls. "Life here isn't like your fancy malls."

Erica sighed and followed reluctantly, clutching the basket as if it were a punishment. Aunt Nena led the way, expertly navigating the crowded market. Erica trailed behind, trying not to trip over the uneven ground.

"Here, Erica, grab those tomatoes," Aunt Nena said, pointing to a pile of bright red produce.

Erica hesitated, eyeing the dirt smudged on their skins. "Uh... they're a bit... dirty."

"They're fresh," Sam said, his voice tinged with impatience as he picked up a handful and tossed them into the basket. "That's how real food looks before it's scrubbed clean for your supermarket shelves."

Erica huffed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. Great. Now he's the food expert too. "I wasn't complaining," she muttered, though her expression said otherwise.

As they moved to the fish section, Erica's discomfort grew. The smell was overpowering, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Do we really have to stop here?"

Aunt Nena laughed. "How else do you expect us to have fresh fish for dinner?"

"I don't even like fish," Erica mumbled under her breath, but Aunt Nena didn't seem to hear her.

Sam, however, did. He turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "Let me guess. You prefer your seafood in the form of sushi, delivered straight to your door?"

Erica glared at him. "Actually, I don't eat sushi either. Too raw for my taste."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Figures."

As they continued through the market, a group of kids darted past Erica, one of them accidentally bumping into her. She stumbled, feeling something wet and muddy splash against her feet. She looked down in horror to see her sandals smeared with mud.

"Ugh! Seriously?!" she exclaimed, her voice rising above the market noise. "Can't people control their kids?"

Sam, who was a few steps ahead, glanced back at her. "Relax. It's just mud. It's not the end of the world."

"Easy for you to say," Erica snapped, her frustration boiling over. "You're not the one walking around like this!"

"Maybe if you paid more attention to where you were going, it wouldn't have happened," he replied, his tone annoyingly calm.

Erica opened her mouth to retort, but Aunt Nena interrupted, handing her a cloth. "Here, dear. Just wipe it off. No need to get upset."

With a huff, Erica took the cloth and cleaned her sandal as best she could, muttering under her breath. This place is a nightmare.

*****

Later that afternoon, just as Erica thought she could relax, Aunt Nena's cheerful voice rang through the house.

"Erica, come help me wash the clothes!" she called, her tone light and inviting, as though laundry was the most exciting activity in the world.

Erica frowned, glancing up from her phone. Wait, what? Her heart sank as she walked toward the backyard. As soon as she stepped outside, her gaze landed on the large pile of laundry waiting by the water pump.

"Aunt Nena... don't we have a washing machine?" she asked, trying to keep the dismay out of her voice.

Aunt Nena chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, dear, we do things the old-fashioned way here. It's more effective!"

"More effective at ruining my nails," Erica muttered under her breath, glancing at her perfectly manicured hands.

Before Aunt Nena could respond, Sam appeared out of nowhere, leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes glimmered with mischief as he surveyed the scene.

"You are the washing machine, Miss City Girl," he said, his tone laced with mockery.

Erica shot him a glare. "Excuse me? I don't even know how to wash clothes by hand!"

"Of course you don't," Sam replied smoothly, pushing himself off the wall and strolling toward the pump. "Don't worry. I'll teach you."

Erica blinked, surprised by his offer. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said, smirking. "You might learn something for once."

Her irritation flared, but she swallowed her retort. He's so infuriating.

Sam rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the handle of the pump. "First, you get the water going. Like this." He began pumping, and water gushed out into a basin. "Then, you soak the clothes. After that, you scrub."

Erica nodded, though her expression remained skeptical. She stepped closer to the pump, trying to focus on the task. But as she glanced at Sam, her gaze inadvertently traveled to his arms, flexing with each pump. Wow, his muscles are... something else. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away.

Sam, noticing her hesitation, smirked. "What's wrong? You look distracted."

"What? No!" Erica replied, too quickly. "I'm just... concentrating."

"Sure you are." Without warning, Sam splashed her with a handful of water.

"Hey!" Erica squealed, stepping back as droplets hit her face. She wiped her cheek, glaring at him. "What was that for?"

"You were overheating," he said, his tone deadpan, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if he was holding back a laugh.

"You're unbelievable," Erica muttered, grabbing a shirt from the pile and dipping it into the basin. She mimicked his scrubbing motion but immediately felt clumsy. The fabric slipped from her hands, and soap suds splashed everywhere.

"This feels so strange! What if I ruin the clothes?" she asked, her frustration evident.

"You won't," Sam said, leaning against the pump. "Just use some common sense."

Erica scowled, scrubbing harder. "You make it sound so easy."

"It is easy," he shot back.

Easy for you, Mr. Perfect. Erica bit her lip, focusing on her task.

As she worked, she leaned back on the small stool Aunt Nena had provided, forgetting it lacked a backrest. Before she knew it, she was tumbling backward.

"Ahhh!" Erica shrieked, landing in the muddy water that trickled from the pump. The cold, slimy liquid soaked her clothes, and her hair stuck to her face.

For a moment, the world was silent except for the sound of nearby chickens clucking and ducks quacking. She could swear the animals were laughing at her.

"Don't laugh, you animals!" she shouted, waving her arms in frustration.

From above her, Sam's voice broke through. "Are you okay?"

Erica looked up, her face burning with humiliation. His expression was unreadable, though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.

"I'm fine," she replied, forcing a laugh. "Just... testing the water."

Sam's lips twitched as if he were holding back a laugh. "You're not going to win any awards for grace," he said, reaching out a hand to help her up.

Erica hesitated before taking it, feeling a jolt of something she couldn't quite name as his strong grip pulled her to her feet.

"Thanks," she mumbled, brushing mud off her clothes. Could this day get any worse?

"You're welcome," he said, already turning back to the laundry. "Now, let's finish this."

Erica sighed, resigning herself to her fate. As she tried again, Sam offered occasional corrections, his tone alternating between serious and teasing.

"No, scrub with the grain of the fabric," he said at one point, grabbing the shirt from her hands to demonstrate.

"Is there a grain?" Erica asked, incredulous.

Sam smirked. "There is if you want the clothes to stay intact."

Why does he have to be so smug about everything? she thought, biting back a retort.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Erica's arms ached, and her back protested the constant bending. But she couldn't deny a tiny sense of accomplishment as the pile of clean clothes grew.

"Not bad for a beginner," Sam said, tossing the last shirt onto the pile.

Erica blinked at him, surprised. "Was that... a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it," he replied, his smirk returning.

Unbelievable. But despite herself, Erica felt a small smile tug at her lips.

As they carried the laundry inside, Aunt Nena beamed. "You two did a great job! Thank you."

Erica nodded, too exhausted to speak. Her gaze flickered to Sam, who was already retreating to his room. He's frustrating and annoying... but maybe he's not all bad.

Collapsing onto her bed, Erica stared at the ceiling. Her muscles ached, and her pride was battered, but a tiny part of her felt... satisfied. Maybe I can survive this. Maybe.