Nadia's Diamonds

CW: Physical violence, gore or abuse, Suicide or self harm

Laughter. Chatters. Glasses clink. Wine bottles pop. Sizzling iron pots. Conversations mix in layers, surrounding the fancy Japanese restaurant’s tatami and washi walls. The long, low table holds the bountiful, authentic dishes—from well-seasoned tonkatsu and sashimi to udon—luxuriously cut, freshly cooked, steaming with umami as they brush against Nadia’s nose.

Her graceful hands hold the knife, pinkies up, cutting through a thin slice of Wagyu beef. Oil stains a section of her crispy red lips. Her tongue brushes around the curves to clear the mess off.

In her proud mind, she’s more than willing to indulge in pleasure, surrounded by guests who never fail to show their wholehearted support and wholesome pockets for her vision. After all, she’s spent years of nonstop work and did nothing else.

Tonight, it’s a feast, celebrating their launch success. A treat she deserves.

“Congratulations, Ms. Nadia. Who would’ve thought a small kababayan could conquer the big, big world?” Cheval announces with his thick Filipino accent. Wearing his usual tight-fit checkered polo tucked in his brown slacks, he is a mature Sheldon Cooper of the group, older, with a distinct toothbrush mustache.

“It would’ve been better if Alicia were here celebrating with us,” Ms. Amor McNugget, kikay head of her research team with only a handful of core scientists, laments before chugging a whole glass of sake, then earns a loud ‘Yeahs’ from the group.

While everyone digs into their plates, exchanging news, Lucas Bianchi, one of the biggest German names in innovation, rests his palm on the table, nodding at the sentiment. His fingers stroke his beard, as if he’s contemplating something he has in mind. Notable for his endless praise for her ethical mining and sustainable luxury, Ms. McNugget notices his odd silence.

She fixes her scarf around her neck and swivels her head in his direction, offering her genuine concern. “Problem?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” He sighs and shifts his weight on the futon, arms crossed, lying on top of his big belly. He pulls his face closer, slipping into a lowered, grainy voice, as if confiding a secret. “Have you heard about Claude’s plan to run for Senate in 2028?”

Her eyes narrow. Her head tilts at an angle. “No. Why?”

He rubs his palm on his face, then groans. “I heard he’s planning on cracking down on illegal operations in Mindanao. He might block Nadia’s biotech.”

“Why would he do that?” she asks, only to get a shrug in return. A grunt slips between her lips, unable to swallow the mystery.

“Alright, guys. Can we hear Ms. Nadia?” Cheval interrupts loudly, like he’s a gifted human megaphone, pausing the two. He lifts his white ceramic full of sake and carefully slams his spoon on the thin surface as everyone slips their swift ‘Cheers’ in return. His eyes on her, offering his genuine gratitude.

“Speech. Speech. Speech.” Everyone roars.

Her smile is as wide as her eyes, sparkling with happiness, and her boisterous snort enlivens the atmosphere. The fine lines crease her forehead and around her eyes. “Do I need to do that? Now?”

Though confused about what to say, she grabs her tablecloth with her pinkie raised and wipes it around her mouth, quickly downs a glass of wine before clearing her throat, conjuring the strength from liquor to push her heart to speak the words she never thought she would say out loud. A brief sadness swallows her eyes; her mind’s eye holding onto Alicia’s image and the emptiness of the party with her absence.

“Gaia Stones started as a childhood dream. Alicia and I grew up on the streets, technically orphaned with living parents. My mother’s not an ideal woman to bear a child, to begin with. So, I grew up fast and became an adult to survive. I couldn’t blame her, either. Like me, she grew up in an unstable home without a mother.

In high school, when she began dating this old, charming, married man she met at a nightclub, she thought he was her Prince Charming. Her one true love. At that time, she fancied diamonds because, according to her, diamonds are a woman’s best friend. She loved Marilyn Monroe, by the way.”

Everybody laughs. The women nod.

She continues after a giggle. “Over the years, that charming prince continued showering her with love. Every year, she received diamond necklaces and bracelets in all shapes and forms as birthday gifts. Then, one day, she received a phone call from a friend telling her he had died in a car accident. Shortly after, she realized there would be no diamonds anymore.

Mourning for his death meant obsession with one thing. Diamonds. And she was willing to do everything to keep his culture alive, thinking it was rude to stop it. Because in her mind, all she wanted was her diamonds and her Prince Charming.” Not me.

“Question.” A man’s voice interrupts her, pausing her train of thought.

“Yes, please.” Her palm lifts to welcome the inquiry from the man at the back. His name is Hans Meyer, the Master Marketer. Thanks to his family lineage and their strong advertising background, he quickly builds confidence among patrons, taking on the biggest risks for significant results. A key player behind the brand’s global success.

“If you lost your mom because of diamonds, why did you decide to turn it into a business?”

The unexpected inquiry silences her for a moment, leaving her unsure what to say. In her mind, she’s doing the right thing. It’s her wish to please her mother because seeing her happy makes her happy, too. Sure, you might think she’s a bit twisted and masochistic. But hey, she’s her mother, after all.

Her cheeks blush, her skin fevers, and she oddly feels like a fool. Suddenly out of words, she finds herself frantic, having a debate whether to slip out more nonsensical thoughts over dinner. “She took her life because she couldn’t get a new piece anymore,” she pauses, studying their looks. Wearing their sympathy, she feels relieved.

She goes on. “Our country isn’t as blessed as others when it comes to diamond mining. We’re rich in gold and other precious minerals, except for this beautiful, magnificent stone. But that doesn’t mean we cannot ever compete. That’s why we produce them here without destroying mountains. Isn’t that win-win for all of us?”

“The governor salutes it. The region’s ranking and tourism economy will be significantly boosted because of her excellent work.” Lucas lifts his thumb of approval, and the crowd cheers for a minute, then mumbles and mutters after.

“Not only does Nadia help in providing more jobs for the locals here, but she also provides the best and safest working environments for miners. She’s an angel on earth,” Cheval adds.

“Indeed!” The crowd’s loud praises are in an ensemble.

Right, Gaia Stones wouldn’t exist without the strength she learned from being left alone in the dark, forcing her to find rescue from compassionate strangers. Without her love for diamonds, she wouldn’t have discovered her genius and deep love for Mother Nature.

The Tellurian, one of the best machines ever developed in modern history, wouldn’t have been built. The fame, money, and power, which came along with it, none of which would’ve been possible without a childhood suffering. Without the kindness of strangers and neighbors, she wouldn’t have learned how to be compassionate towards the nameless workers.

“Say goodbye to blood diamonds. Thanks to Ms. Nadia, the beautiful genius,” Cheval announces, glancing at every person surrounding the table with his distinct, proud smile. The excitement to push forward to the next level is apparent on his face.

Ms. McNugget nods, agreeing. Her eyes on her. “You’re right. Cheers to Ms. Nadia, cheers to Gaia Stones, cheers for Mindanao.”

“For the new Philippines!” Lucas whoops with delight.

As they go on, linking arms and having a merry time, her palm meets her chest, feeling the tears rise behind her throat. With flooding memories of her deceased mother, her fingers curl around the soft edges of the white, transparent stone. Mama would’ve been so proud of me.

She nods and smiles and snorts with her squeezed eyes, playing along with their silly banters and teases. Satisfied, she dips her eyes at her plate and is about to shove a forkful into her mouth, only to pause when she hears a loud bang from the door across the room, and the room shakes. Her fork meets the ceramic, her curious eyes in that direction.

As everyone pauses, silence creeps in, growing thicker. All eyes on the woman as she enters with heavy steps. Her high heels echo through every corner like their heart beating in each thud. No mouth opens, no whisper slips out between their lips until she stands close to the table. Close enough to keep Nadia’s attention.

“Alicia, I thought you were sick,” Ms. McNugget sputters, almost choking Lucas on his wine.

“I am,” she replies nonchalantly. Her stern eyes on Nadia, choking her like fingers around her neck.

Pretending she hasn’t noticed the radical change of air, she wonders if this is about her being sensitive, sulking at the fact that she’s at home while the whole executive gathers on a Friday night.

Cute, she muses, expelling a lopsided chuckle, thinking she’s kidding right now. She sighs, giving up. “Cheval told me you went home earlier, so I assume—”

“What is this?” She throws the newspaper on the table. The strength is enough to push the ceramic against her chest and shake the table a little. “If you have nothing to hide, explain this to me.” She tightens her lips, as if she’s gritting her teeth in fury. Her frown spreads, and her silent agony blazes across her face.

“Where did you get this?” Nadia’s shaky eyes on the headline. Nadia’s Diamonds & Her Killing Machine. Her brain freezes, her skin flutters as panic seeps through her skin.

“It doesn’t matter.”

As Ms. McNugget takes the newspaper, the pause grows. She sucks in a massive chunk of damp, warm air, then swallows it whole like slime into her lungs. She lets out a soundless sigh to ease her nerves and speed her brain with reasons to reply despite the pressure.

“What is this, Nadia? I don’t understand.” Hesitation, tinged with confusion, taints her voice. Her face is filled with question marks.

Mentally fist-bumping, she lifts her face and flaunts her usual friendly smile, politely takes the newspaper, skimming through the content, leafing through pages, then returns it to her. “Do you believe this?” she stutters.

“I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.” She throws the newspaper back and combs her long, wavy, dark hair to clear her face. She rests her hands on her waist, obviously not buying it. “They wouldn’t have written anything if there wasn’t any truth to that, would they?”

“It must be Claude’s work. You know your husband.”

“This isn’t about politics, Nadia.”

“Is it? We all know your husband’s kissing that congressman’s ass.” Her cool eyes meet her hot gaze, noting the newspaper’s movements as it rounds and meets a handful of hands. Wondering what they think, her heart thunders in her chest, pounding her with loud, triple beats in full throttle.

Out of sheer will, she manages to keep her composure steady, her composure in place. “Trust me. Our diamonds are blood-free, 100% organic. Fast produced. Made in the Philippines.”

“You mean, you murder a thousand people per day. That’s, indeed, fast,” she replied, immediately shifting everyone’s faces, stunned at the news. Sensing her advantage, she scoffs. “You think you’re investing in revolutionary organic mining, but you’re manufacturing a serial-killing machine on a global scale.”

She clucks, disappointed. “You’re smart, Alicia. Make sure you know your husband well. You’ll never know what he might come up with if you’re the next on his target list.” She notes the fury spelling itself in words all over her.

“No. He won’t do that. He’s my husband.”

“Maybe you forgot, she’s my ex.”

Out of a whim, an A5 Manila envelope pops out of her hand. Without qualms, she lifts it upside down, slipping the photos carelessly on the table, covering some of their plates. “How about this?” She picks up one and presents it close to her eye level. “And this? Don’t tell me it’s AI-generated ‘cause this is clearly a goddamn machine to me.”

When disgust bleeds across the harsh lines of her face, the frightened confusion in the guests’ eyes, questions flood her mind, and she suddenly wants to flee, to drag her to somewhere private. Noting the sound of her voice, that fear with a mix of determination, she knows this is it. She might have to welcome her resignation letter the first thing in the morning.

Each second that passes is an agony, Nadia muses, her eyes struggling to hold in, to endure the burning tears she’d tried to suppress. Unwilling to break herself in front of everyone, she swallows those tears back to where they must be and stretches her lips to a forced smile.

“How about you having dinner with us? You must be hungry,” she said, wishing it’s enough of an effort to ease the tense air, eyeing the rest and swallowing their stares. Eyes meet eyes. When she refuses, she expels a soundless, whispery plea, wanting to rebut, only to get sidetracked when she continues.

“You’re my best friend, but your diamonds have swallowed you whole.”

“You’re wrong. I’ve always been the same Nadia you knew. You changed.”

She shakes her head. “No, you did. You’re a selfish, arrogant criminal.”

Something about what she said pushes her to the edge of the cliff. Enough to have her spring from her seat, throwing the remains of her wine glass on her face. Her eyes pop at the sight of the mess on the table, her body stiffens in full defense.

“Oh my God! Hot! Hot! Hot!” Everyone screams and cries in pain as they try to crawl out of the table. Their legs stuck, swelling with burns.

“How dare you shame me in front of everyone?” Her voice is steady, but it is enough to keep her on her toes and hold her mouth in complete silence for a minute. Speechless at the ruckus.

“Your mother never loved you, Nadia. But you want her love. That’s why you built Gaia Stones to kill people, so you’ll become the diamond queen and gain the respect and love you crave.”

“Shut up!” Her palm meets her cheek, flaring with pain. Veins pop out of her neck, her face flushes, her body trembles, enveloping tingles from head to toe. The moment she feels everyone’s eyes touch her skin, she shrinks. A sudden feeling of regret hugs her chest. I’m sorry.

She presses her burning cheek; her determined stare pierces through her eyes. “I can’t shut up when I’m watching my best friend ruin innocent people’s lives.”

Her words hang in the air. Silence permeates the whole space again, as if God were walking on the aisle at this moment. Nobody speaks for a second, maybe more. Their eyes on the mess layering the table.

Left to swallow the embarrassment and regret, Nadia shakes her head. “If this is true, prove it.”

“How about this? Isn’t it enough evidence?” Her hand meets the stolen photo of a familiar machine. “This is your secret sauce, isn’t it?” Her eyes on the guests. “Look. This is the Tellurian. Nadia’s secret killing machine. This is where your money goes.” She throws the photo onto the table, and it accidentally lands on the noodles, almost dampening the corners.

Curious, Hans quickly picks it up and fans it to dry. His narrowed eyes on the image—hundreds of selected prisoners standing in lines on a wet quadrangle, heading to where the buses are in arrays. His index finger lands on an unnamed face. His mouth eased, as if he wanted to ask but couldn’t.

“Ms. Nadia uses prisoners for raw material, like a female Hitler. Every week, the prison delivers busloads to the property and sends them to their deaths. Disturbing, isn’t it? But she doesn’t care.”

Right. It’s the answer to the world’s efforts to save nature and expenditures, she agrees. Standing at least two meters tall, this machine is a modern Mother Gaia. A gift from the gods through Nadia’s dreams. Made to handle work even under the most extreme conditions and highest temperatures up to 50,000 atmospheres and temperatures over 2,000 degrees Celsius (3,600 degrees Fahrenheit). A one-of-a-kind machine that revolutionized alternative diamond mining while reducing unwanted populations.

That one machine Nadia is proud of. A lifetime achievement that brought the country back onto the world map, making it a frontier once again. All because of a fearless woman who was once a young dreamer from the outskirts of the southern land, who never gave up and fought against all odds.

But is she a female Hitler? No. She brings no war but peace. And her Tellurian isn’t a weapon. A lifesaver. Of course, she cares.

To her disappointment, she feels cornered. All eyes on her, staring daggers as the anticipation grows. Stuck. Out of words. Her heart in her throat. Disappointment melts across her face, unable to look straight into everyone’s faces as shame blankets her fluttering skin.

If that isn’t enough of an attack, Alicia bores her with a stern gaze, as if she’s at gunpoint. It’s as if she knows more than she reveals. That firm demand blankets her thick-lashed eyes, like fingers pointing at her.

Without a word, Nadia gulps and helplessly grabs her things. She slips out of the table and walks out of the room unapologetically, chin up, leaving everyone frozen in a wild mess, exchanging stares, their mouths zipped.