CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Kate
We’re about to sleep in Emily’s room, like we always do when she’s here. But before I face that, I spend a few seconds in Michael’s backyard, currently on my second cigarette.
They’re gonna interrogate me. They’ll ask what happened, what I’m feeling, where this is going.
And I wouldn’t know what to say. Because even I don’t know what I’m feeling.
There’s a part of me that’s giddy—like really giddy, like I want to twirl in the hallway and press flowers into journals and highlight my favorite parts of this chapter of my life.
Because for the first time, the love I write about in the margins of my notebooks… it’s starting to feel real. Tangible. Maybe even within reach.
But then, there’s the other part. The part of me that wants stability. The part that bakes cakes with perfect accuracy because I know that changing the recipe might lead to disaster. I can feel the end humming underneath the sweetness, and it’s messing with my ability to enjoy the now.
But still. I’m enjoying it. Maybe not fully, not without fear—but enough to know it’s something I have. And I don’t know how to tell my friends that. That I’m terrified and thrilled. That I’m learning, slowly, that I can feel things without needing to label them or explain them right away.
I sigh and flick the cigarette away. I shove a piece of gum into my mouth to mask the stench, a weird little ritual I’ve adopted. One of these days, I won’t need to hold these things again just to feel in control of my life.
I slip out of the backyard and walk toward Emily’s house. The lights are warm. Someone’s playing music too quietly from a phone speaker.
They’re all inside already, munching on midnight snacks. I sigh and open the door.
“There she is,” Bon says. “Tell us everything!”
“Let the girl breathe, Bon,” Emily interjects. “We have some food, Kate. You hungry?” she asks. Emily’s always been more motherly, and I’ve never appreciated it more.
I grab a stick of barbecue and slowly munch while they’re looking at me.
“So,” Haley says after a few seconds, “You and Michael Lee. What is up?”
“Nothing,” I say. And somehow, that’s true.
“I don’t believe it,” Bon says. “You started dating rumors. You spend every day together in that preschool. He nursed you to health! While you were on him.”
“And,” Haley adds, pointing a potato chip in my direction, “you kissed him.”
Emily and Bon gasp so hard, they don’t make a sound. I eye Haley begrudgingly, and she just shrugs like she didn’t sell me out.
“Okay, before you freak out, it was barely a kiss. I pulled away immediately,” I say. I keep my eyes on the barbecue stick. Refraining from eye contact is my version of survival.
“Well, at least tell us something,” Haley insists.
“Yeah, this is all new for you and we just wanna… be there,” Bon adds.
“We’re just looking out for you, Kate,” Emily says.
And then all the moments that I kept myself quiet suddenly play in my head. All the times I said yes when I didn’t want to. The times I accepted all unsolicited advice. And I’m probably going to regret this, but something in me just… snaps.
“There’s nothing to tell!” I say. The room quiets. Even the air conditioner hum seems to hold its breath. I force myself to inhale slowly. “Sorry,” I say in a softer tone. “Just… there’s nothing to tell. I enjoy spending time with him, and I think he feels the same way. That’s it.”
They’re all quiet now. Bon opens her mouth but thinks better of it.
“We just don’t want you to get hurt,” Haley says gently.
And then I think about Michael. How he told me that I get to decide how to live my life. That I’m allowed to say no or change my mind. And somehow, his words give me the courage to say what I say next.
“Well, Haley, I hate to break it to you, but there’s a very real possibility that I do get hurt. And that’s gonna be my pain to carry.”
That catches them off guard. Me too, a little. But once I start, it’s like opening a valve. “You guys have to stop coddling me,” I say, quieter this time. Not yelling. Just… releasing.
“We’re not coddling you,” Bon says calmly.
“You are,” I say, my eyes finally being brave enough to look at her.
“When you first saw me with Michael, you freaked out. And when I told you,” I say, turning to Haley, “that I kissed him, you launched into a lecture about being careful. That’s coddling.
” Then I turn to Emily, slowly. “And when I told you about our first meeting, you made me feel like I don’t have the courage to stand up for myself. ”
Emily looks down, biting her lip.
“Kate,” she says softly, “we’re sorry. You’re right. Your feelings are yours to sort out.”
“What are you talking about?” Haley interjects. “She’s setting herself up to pain. And I’m not gonna stand here and watch while that happens.”
Bon sets her glass of orange juice down with a soft clink and folds her hands in her lap.
“I don’t know,” she says slowly. “I kind of get it.” She meets Haley’s glare without flinching.
“When you have feelings for someone—real feelings—there’s this.
.. pull. Like something in your chest is reaching forward even if your brain is screaming at you to turn back.
And yeah, it might crash and burn. But it also… might not.”
“Or it might,” Haley says flatly.
Emily nods, as if remembering her own feelings. “Yeah, it might. But standing by and not doing anything is also setting herself up for pain, Haley.”
“I just—” Haley’s voice cracks slightly. “I don’t want her to be one of those girls crying in a car at 2 a.m. because she thought it was love and it wasn’t.”
“Haley,” I say, voice even. “I love that you care. I really do. But I’m not a baby. If I get hurt—let me. That’s part of it. That’s part of life.”
They’re all watching me with wide eyes. Bon even has her mouth half open. I know what they’re thinking. Who is this weird little lady who suddenly knows how to disagree with people? Who suddenly has the voice to speak up?
“I’ve spent so long saying yes to things just so I wouldn’t rock the boat,” I continue, barely recognizing the version of me who is still talking.
“I say yes because it’s easier. Because it keeps things light.
Because when you’re the agreeable one, no one ever accuses you of being difficult or dramatic. But it’s exhausting.”
I lean back a little, sighing deeply. “So no, I don’t know what I’m doing with Michael. Maybe it’s something. Maybe it’s nothing. But whatever it is, I want it to be mine.”
They’re all quiet.
Then Bon nods, slowly. “Well. Damn.”
Emily chuckles. “I kind of want to clap.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking a handful of chips. “Besides, no one said anything about love. I’m not even sure what this feeling is.”
“That’s love,” Bon and Emily say, and they laugh in unison.
Bon sighs dramatically, leaning her cheek into her hand. “It starts like that. Weird, an unwelcome thought. Then it becomes scary. And then suddenly you’re crying in a lighthouse in Batanes while he confesses under the stars—”
“Oh my god,” Haley interrupts. “This is why I can’t talk to either of you anymore.”
“Or overthinking on a rooftop in New York City because you don’t know what you’re feeling,” Emily adds.
“Seriously. Katherine, that’s not love. That’s a heartworm.” Haley stands up and adds, “I’m gonna go get water. And maybe touch some grass before I catch whatever it is you two have.” She scrunches her nose at Bon and Emily, and we all laugh.
As Haley leaves the room mumbling something about romance being a virus, Bon leans toward me and whispers, “She’s totally going to fall hard one day. And we’re going to be unbearable.”
Emily and Bon smile at me like they totally support me. But Haley is a little more difficult to read. I don’t know what she’s going through, but I hope she comes around.
And whatever this feeling is, I don’t have to know, do I? I can just let it be. I’m not going to try to talk myself out of it. I’m not going to shrink it down to make it easier to carry. I’m letting it be exactly as big or small as it needs to be.
Let’s see where this choice takes me.
My friends are asleep, their breathing slow and even, but I’m still by Emily’s window, forehead resting lightly against the glass. I lost track of time, but it’s quiet outside. The street is washed in that late night glow, and everything is still. Unmoving.
My phone buzzes, and my heart gives a stupid, hopeful jump. Jeez, no one ever texts me that a simple buzz makes me think of Michael. Maybe he’s texting me to say something absurd. Or send a meme.
But it’s not him.
It’s Manang Linda.
Manang Linda: Katherine, can you bake extra batches for Lily's tomorrow? I think Freida's having guests.
The words are harmless. Nothing but a simple request. And yet my thumb hovers, because the reflex to say yes is so ingrained it almost bypasses thought entirely. I can feel my mind instantly drift to the calculation of ingredients I have left and how early I should set an alarm.
Because I usually do. I make room. I push things around. I give the time I didn’t have to spare in the first place, then convince myself I didn’t need it anyway.
But tonight feels different.
Just a few hours ago, I sat across from my friends and admitted (with real, adult words) that I have feelings for Michael. That I like him enough to risk the fallout. And I didn’t backpedal. I didn’t laugh it off or water it down. I didn’t fold under the weight of everyone else’s worries.
I stayed standing.
And I realize now how rare that is for me, the standing.
I’ve spent years training myself to bend, to shift, to make space for other people’s comfort.
I know the exact angle to tilt my head so someone feels heard.
I know how to hide my own exhaustion so no one feels guilty for asking me for one more thing. I’ve gotten good at it.
But now, I stood up for myself. And if I can do that with something as terrifying as my own feelings, I can do it in other places too.
I type slowly.
Kate (Me): Hi, Manang Linda. I'm sorry, I can't. I don't have the time.
I don’t add a reason. I don’t cushion it with a promise to make it up to her. I just send it.
And the message just stays there, glowing in the dark. It feels good. Strange, but good. Like I have more control than I give myself credit for.
I think about the cigarettes in my bag—my little illusion of control. The thing I’ve kept because it’s easy to choose it, to pretend that choice means I’m in charge. But real control is in moments like this, when I choose myself instead. Not fully, but almost there.
My phone buzzes again.
Manang Linda: About time, Katherine.
And I smile. I think of Michael. About how he’s the one who brought this out in me. Sure, he doesn’t get all the credit. I’ve had the capacity to say no. I’ve always had it in me.
But he surely nudged me. Maybe without even meaning to. He’s made me test the edges of my own comfort, made me wonder what would happen if I stood my ground more often. Tonight, I found out.
And if he ever leaves—if his life pulls him back into stadium lights and airports and a pace I could never match—I’ll still have this. I’ll still have the proof that I can choose myself and survive the choosing. And I deserve to be proud of myself for that alone.