Chapter 2
I'm in my room, lights off, only the glow of my phone illuminating my face as I play Call of Duty Mobile. My thumbs were moving fast, reflexes sharp, but my mind was somewhere else.
?
?Hindi ko talaga siya maalis sa isip ko. That girl. That one girl. There was just something about her. The way she looked. The way she carried herself. I don’t know. I want her.
"Bobo mo! 'Wag ka nang maglaro," I shouted at my teammates with my mic open.
Kakainis.
Ang bo-bobo ng kakampi ko.
I was trying so hard to carry the team, making all the plays, but no matter how good I was, it was impossible to win if they kept messing up.
Useless.
Nakakagigil.
?
?I threw my phone gently on the bed—not hard enough to break it, but just enough to release some steam.
I sighed loudly, ran a hand through my hair, then looked at the time.
?
?It was already past midnight, and I still couldn’t sleep.
My body was tired, but my mind?
Sobrang gising.
I needed something cold.
Something to calm me down.
Milk.
And maybe…
to see her.
?
?Tahimik ang buong bahay.
I tiptoed downstairs, making sure my footsteps were light.
As I reached the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator was the only sound filling the space.
I opened it and grabbed the carton of fresh milk.
?
?As I poured myself a glass, I heard soft footsteps behind me.
?
?“Why are you still awake?” a familiar voice said.
It was my older sister, her tone a mix of concern and mild irritation.
?
?“I can't sleep. Kukuha lang ako ng gatas,” I replied, casually, not even looking at her as I took a sip.
?
?“Mhm, okay,” she muttered, turning around to leave, clearly not interested in small talk.
?
?“Wait, Ate,” I called out, my voice louder now, stopping her before she could completely exit the kitchen.
?
?She paused, turned around slowly, eyebrow raised. “Why?”
?
?I hesitated for a second, but then decided to just go for it. “Anong name nung friend mo? The one's who's wearing a beige sleeveless top."
?Her expression shifted instantly.
Her eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a straight line.
?
?“Why?” she repeated, but this time, her voice was colder, more serious.
“Don’t you dare do that. Don’t touch my friends, Sylvia.”
?
?Oof.
Okay, defensive much?
?
?“Sungit, I’m just asking,” I said, rolling my eyes while sipping from my glass.
"Cynthia... Cynthia Lim Sevilla Sanchez. That's her full name, happy?" she said, her voice still sharp.
?I grinned, sipping my milk like I didn’t just win the lottery.
“You’re a nice person after all pala, thanks ‘te,” I teased, throwing a flying kiss her way.
?
?She didn’t look amused. At all.
?
?“Don’t even think about flirting with her.
She has a boyfriend.
” Her voice was sharp.
Stern.
Final.
?
?Boyfriend?
I paused for a second, digesting the information.
My grin faded just a little, but only for a moment.
?
?“Yeah, okay,” I answered coolly, trying to sound uninterested as I turned away, pretending to focus on finishing my milk.
?
?But deep inside?
I felt that spark—the kind you feel right before a challenge starts.
The kind that makes your heart race.
?
?Boyfriend?
?
?Psh.
Do I look like I care?
?
?I can have who I want to have.
I’ve done it before.
I’m not here to play nice.
And if she really has a boyfriend, then it’s just going to be more fun proving I’m better.
?
?I wiped my lips, placed the empty glass in the sink, and headed back upstairs, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.
?
?The game wasn’t over.
?
?In fact, it was just getting started.
?
?I started walking upstairs, carefully holding my glass of milk with both hands para hindi matapon.
The hallway was quiet.
Pagdating ko sa taas, I quietly opened the door to my room and slipped inside.
?
?After finishing the last drop of milk, I placed the glass on my study table.
I stood there for a moment, staring at nothing, my thoughts still drifting back to her.
Cynthia.
Her name was now carved into my brain, like a tattoo I didn’t ask for.
?
?I sighed, climbed into bed, and pulled the blanket up to my chin.
The exhaustion I had tried to ignore earlier finally crept in, slowly dragging me into sleep.
The events of the night—my rage during the game, that short conversation with my sister, and the sound of Cynthia’s name echoing in my head—faded into a hazy blur.
Before I knew it, I was already dreaming, lulled to sleep by the heaviness of the day and the knowledge that I had early classes in the morning.
?
---
?I woke up to another day.
Same alarm tone.
Same ceiling.
Same feeling of dread.
The routine started all over again.
No matter how much I wanted to escape it, ito talaga ang buhay ko ngayon.
I pulled myself out of bed, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and dragged myself to the bathroom to start getting ready.
?
?I’m a fourth-year Civil Engineering student—just a few months away from graduation.
On paper, that sounds exciting.
But in reality?
Nakakapagod.
Hindi biro ang course na ‘to. It’s a path I took…
or maybe one that was chosen for me.
My grandmother, who practically raised me, was the one who always believed in this dream.
?
?She never said it directly, but I knew.
I knew what she expected from me.
The pressure to succeed, to make her proud, to build a future based on her vision—it weighed heavily on me every single day.
Hindi ko alam kung para sa'kin pa ba talaga 'to, o para sa kanya.
?
?My friends are also studying Civil Engineering, pero sa ibang university—Synergy University, kung saan nagtatrabaho ang ate ko.
We’re on the same path, just walking on different roads.
But despite the difference in schools, we somehow ended up close.
?
?If you’re wondering how we met, well, it’s not exactly your typical meet-cute.
?
?Flashback:
?
?Nasa bar ako ngayon.
Mag-isa lang ako.
I was peacefully drinking, just trying to enjoy the dim lights, the loud music, and the mindless atmosphere na malayo sa stress ng bahay at eskwela.
I wanted silence—well, as silent as a bar could be.
Then, bigla siyang dumating.
?
?"Ganda mo naman, my name is Kinsley," she said out of nowhere, extending her hand for a handshake like we were in a damn business meeting.
?
?I stared at her.
Seriously?
?
?"I'm not interested, so fuck off," I said plainly, rolling my eyes. I tried to keep calm, pero deep inside, I was already annoyed. Hindi ba halatang wala ako sa mood makipag-usap?
?
?Gusto ko lang talaga ng katahimikan. Naiinis na ako sa bahay, tapos pati ba naman dito, may istorbo pa rin?
?
?"Sungit mo! Akala mo kinaganda mo 'yan? Hindi!" she snapped back.
Okay, wow.
This girl’s really asking for it.
?
?Nakita ko na lang na may dalawang babae na lumapit sa kanya at hinila siya palayo.
Siguro mga kaibigan niya ‘yon.
?
?"Bitawan niyo ‘ko!" she yelled habang pumapalag. She looked ridiculous, honestly.
?
?"Manahimik ka nga, hindi mo ‘yan kilala, tanga," sabi nung isa, trying to shush her.
?
?Then another one approached me directly. Her tone was apologetic. "Hi, I’m sorry for my friend’s behavior. She’s really drunk, I’m really sorry."
?
?"Okay," I said shortly. I didn’t want to escalate it any further.
?
?"Huwag ka nang makulit, alis na tayo," sabi nung isa sa mga kasama niya, clearly done with the situation.
?
?"Ayoko! Away ako no’ng babae na ‘yan!" sigaw pa ni Kinsley habang tinuturo ako.
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?My brows furrowed. What the hell is wrong with this girl? Then, to my surprise, she started crying.
?
?Like, real crying.
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?"Bad mo! Makarma ka sana!" she said, tears falling down her face as her friends finally managed to drag her away from me. She was still yelling even as they disappeared through the crowd.
?
?I sat there stunned. Crazy. What’s her problem? I muttered to myself, letting out a sigh and shaking my head. Hindi ko ma— process kung anong klaseng encounter ‘yon. It was the most random, chaotic and stressful bar moment of my life.
---
One week later.
.
.
?
?After surviving another hellish week full of deadlines, quizzes, plates, and non— stop stress, I went back to the bar.
Same spot.
Same drink.
This place had become my escape, my temporary peace.
?
?Then, I heard a familiar voice behind me.
?
?"Hi, I’m sorry for my behavior last week," she said.
?
?I slowly turned my head— and there she was.
Kinsley.
?
?"You again," I muttered.
"Okay," I said plainly, still unsure why she even approached me again.
She smiled awkwardly, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of her glass. Then, to my complete surprise, she took a deep breath and sat beside me without asking.
“What are you doing? I’m not interested in you,” I said flatly, my tone sharp despite my effort to keep it neutral. The irritation in my voice slipped out anyway, like venom I couldn't hold back.
“Grabe ka naman. Hindi rin naman ako interesado sa’yo, adik ka ba?” she snapped back with a dramatic eye roll, as if my assumption had offended her more than it should. Her voice was laced with mockery, but I could sense the hurt hiding beneath her sarcastic tone.
I didn’t respond. I just rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to my drink, hoping she’d take the hint and leave.
“Ang sarap ng inumin na ‘to,” she said after a moment, lifting her glass and examining the contents like it was some kind of rare gem. “Paborito mo rin ba ‘yan?” she asked casually, as if she hadn’t heard my earlier dismissal.
I clenched my jaw and let out a heavy sigh, already tired of the conversation. “Can you please just shut up?” I said, more forcefully this time. My patience was hanging by a thread.
She frowned and leaned slightly away from me, clearly taken aback by my tone. “Sungit mo talaga,” she muttered under her breath, almost inaudibly— but not quite. I heard it. And honestly? I didn’t care.
There was a brief silence between us, filled only by the soft hum of music and the chatter of strangers in the background. Then she spoke again, her voice noticeably softer this time.
“But, by the way… are you okay? I noticed halos gabi-gabi ka nandito sa bar. Parang— parang may pinagdadaanan ka,” she said gently, concern slipping through her voice whether she meant it or not.
I turned to her slowly, my eyes narrowing. “Stop acting like you care,” I snapped, the edge in my voice cutting through the noise around us like a blade.
Her brows furrowed, and for a moment, she looked genuinely offended. “Would I ask if I don't?” she shot back, her tone now defensive. “Baliw ka talaga minsan, alam mo ‘yon?”
“Why would you even care? You don’t even know me,” I said coldly, my words biting and laced with exhaustion.
She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she looked down at her glass, swirling the drink as if it could offer her the right words. Then, after a moment, she looked at me again— this time with something softer in her eyes.
“I know I don’t,” she admitted. “But… I wanted to be friends with you.”
There was a crack in her voice now. Just enough to show she wasn’t pretending anymore. There was a kind of desperation in the way she said it, like she had rehearsed the line in her head a thousand times and still wasn’t sure it would land right.
I stared at her, unmoved. “Well, I don’t,” I said, final and cold, each word slamming down like a door being shut in her face.
And with that, I turned away, hoping she’d finally get the message— and leave.
"Ang sama mo talaga, wala kang choice kundi kaibiganin ako. Desisyon ako eh," dagdag pa niya, at tumawa kaya napatawa nalang ako sa kakulitan nito.
Pagkatapos ng hindi inaasahang pagkikita na ‘yon, naging bar buddies kami. It was an unlikely friendship, forged in the dimly lit corners of your favorite drinking spot. Habang tumatagal, naging close kona rin ang dalawa niyang kaibigan.
Hindi ako magsisinungaling; they were a handful, minsan nakakainis, pero undeniably fun to be around. Despite their flaws, maswerte ako na may mga kaibigan ako na tulad nila. It's a friendship I never saw coming, but I'm grateful for nonetheless.
I decided to take a shower to start the day fresh.
The cold water jolted me awake, washing away the remnants of sleep clinging to my skin.
After a while, I stepped out, feeling more human.
I threw on a white button-down shirt with short sleeves, slightly oversized so it hung a bit loose over my frame.
I paired it with a comfortable pair of dark-wash jeans that hugged just right— simple, clean, and good enough for a laid-back morning.
Pababa na ako ng hagdan papuntang kusina, tinutuyo-tuyo pa ang buhok gamit ang tuwalya, nang mapansin ko ang kapatid ko at ang mga kaibigan niya na nagkukumpulan sa mesa.
“Eat breakfast with us,” sabi ni Ate agad nang makita niya akong dumarating.
Medyo nag-alinlangan ako pero tumango na lang ako.
I pulled up a chair and sat down at the edge of the table, careful not to take up too much space.
I kept my head down for a moment, pouring myself a cup of coffee and taking a quick glance at the spread of food—eggs, longganisa, garlic rice, and some fruit on the side.
Miss Sanchez was seated directly across from me, but she didn’t even glance in my direction.
She was engrossed in a quiet conversation with one of the other girls, her eyes focused, expression unreadable.
Hindi siya tulad ng ibang kaibigan ni Ate na animated magsalita, may kasamang gestures at malalakas na tawa.
She was calm, composed— almost too composed for a breakfast setting this loud.
Napansin yata ni Ate na parang out of place ako, kaya agad siyang nagsalita. “I haven’t introduced my younger sister to you guys yet. Her name is Sylvia,” she said, proudly gesturing toward me.
Napatingin sa akin ang ilan sa mga kaibigan niya, and I gave them a small, polite smile. Before I could say anything, one of them— yung may pinakamalakas na energy sa grupo— leaned forward and grinned.
“Ganda ng pangalan mo, bebe. Akin ka nalang,” biro niya na sinundan agad ng tawa. Mabilis naman siyang nasapak ni Ate sa braso.
I quietly started eating, not saying much, just listening to the exchange of stories and jokes across the table. The noise filled the kitchen, bouncing off the tiled walls like familiar music.
Pero si Miss Sanchez… tahimik lang siya. Hindi siya sumasali sa usapan. Nakatulala lang siya sa pagkain niya, minsan tumatango sa kausap, pero halatang may sarili siyang iniisip. It was like she was physically present, but her mind was somewhere far away.
I found myself quietly observing her from across the table. Napapansin ko kung gaano kaingat ang bawat galaw niya—kung paano niya hinawakan ang kutsara’t tinidor, parang may ritual.
Her posture was straight, refined, almost like she was raised in a house where manners were everything. Every bite was deliberate. She’d stare at her plate for a second before taking her next spoonful, as if she was silently calculating something I couldn’t understand.
She wasn’t looking at anyone. Not me, not my sister, not the rest of the group. She was fully immersed in her breakfast, eyes low, lips pursed.
But despite the distance she seemed to keep, there was something oddly endearing about it. Parang ang tahimik niya sa surface, pero ang daming nangyayari sa loob. And I couldn’t help but find it… cute.
“Sabay ka na sa’ming pumasok, Syl. Hatid na kita,” aya ni Ate. She was already gathering her things beside her plate, ready to start the day.
Maya-maya pa, natapos na rin kaming kumain at nagpasyang umalis na. Ate's friend will also come with us, actually hindi ako sumasabay kay ate pero kasama raw kaibigan niya, then it means, kasama si Miss Sanchez kaya sasama ako.
Even as the group stood up, starting to clear the table and prepare to leave, my eyes briefly flicked back to Miss Sanchez. She finally looked up for a moment— just one second— and our eyes met.
I quickly looked away.
Damn. Why did that make my heart skip?
Nakarating na kami sa sasakyan ni Ate, habang nakasunod lang sa likod ang kotse ng mga kaibigan niya. Paglapit namin sa sasakyan, agad kong inikot ang kotse at binuksan ang pinto sa passenger seat, subtly glancing behind me. Inaasahan kong si Miss Sanchez ang sasakay.
Pero hindi siya ang sumakay.
Nagulat ako nang si Miss Martinez ang agad na lumapit at naupo. May ngiti pa siyang dala habang nauupo sa upuan.
“Salamat, bebe. Gentlewoman mo naman,” biro niya, sabay kindat.
Pilit akong ngumiti bilang tugon, kahit sa totoo lang, hindi naman talaga para sa kaniya ang gesture na ‘yon. Miss Sanchez was still by the other car, casually chatting with another friend, seemingly unaware— or maybe just pretending not to notice.
Sumakay na rin ako sa kotse at umupo sa front seat katabi ni Ate, trying to shake off the minor disappointment.
Tahimik lang ako sa buong biyahe, pinagmamasdan ang mga dumadaan sa bintana habang naririnig ko sa background ang tawanan at usapan ng mga kaibigan ni Ate sa kabilang sasakyan.
Hindi ko na pinansin.
I was just lost in thought.
Maya-maya, we arrived at the University. Ako ang unang hinatid ni Ate.
“Thank you, Ate,” sabi ko at yumuko para halikan siya sa pisngi.
I love my sister very much.
Though it might not be obvious to most people, especially to her.
I’m not really good at expressing my feelings.
Hindi dahil wala akong nararamdaman.
But expressing them?
That’s the hard part.
Para bang may laging nakaharang sa lalamunan ko tuwing susubukan kong maging vocal.
So I rely on small actions—subtle glances, quiet gestures, soft words like “Thank you.”
Pagkababa ko ng kotse, I walked straight toward the main building, navigating through the usual crowd of students bustling through the campus grounds. The morning sun was sharp, casting long shadows across the pavement, and the hum of conversation surrounded me like static.
As usual, maraming estudyante ang lumalapit. Some smiled, others waved, a few tried to start small talk. It was the same thing every day—friendly attempts at conversation, invitations to hang out, and the occasional awkward compliment.
I wasn’t interested.
I just wanted to get to class, sit down, and get it over with. No unnecessary drama. No attention.
“Hi, Sylvia. Para sa'yo,” sabi ng isang lalaki sa gilid ng hallway, sabay abot ng isang maliit na bouquet ng bulaklak at isang chocolate bar na may ribbon.
Halatang pinag-isipan. Namumula ang pisngi niya habang nakatingin sa akin na para bang isang simpleng ngiti ko ay sapat nang pampasaya ng buong araw niya.
Before I could even process it, another student— a girl this time— stepped forward.
“Eto rin,” sabi niya at inabot ang isang maliit na box. Judging by the weight and size, baka necklace o bracelet na naman ‘to.
“Thank you,” pilit kong sagot, forcing a polite smile even if I was already getting tired of the same routine.
Parang araw-araw na lang may nagbibigay sa akin ng chocolate, flowers, accessories—lahat ng klase ng bagay na akala nila ay makakakuha ng pansin ko. Sa totoo lang, hindi ko naman hinahanap ang ganitong atensyon. I didn’t ask for it, and I definitely didn’t want it.
Pagdating ko sa classroom, diretso agad ako sa upuan ko sa likod.
I glanced around quickly, made sure no one was looking, and quietly slipped the gifts into the bin sa tabi ng pinto.
I don’t keep them.
Never have.
It’s not that I hate gestures like that—it’s just…
I never felt like any of them were real.
.
Wala pang ilang minuto at dumating na rin ang professor namin. Maayos ang suot niya, nakasabit sa balikat ang sling bag, at hawak ang marker at tablet. Pasok agad sa klase, walang paligoy-ligoy.
“Good morning, Professor,” sabay-sabay naming bati.
He nodded and returned the greeting with a tired smile, then started writing problems on the board. Differential equations. Application problems. Medyo mabigat agad para sa umaga, pero sanay na rin kami.
As the lesson progressed, it became clear— again— that ako ang palaging tinatawag. Lalo na kapag walang sumasagot sa mga tanong niya. “Gomez?” lagi niyang tanong kapag may katahimikan sa klase.
Sometimes I wondered if the professor just assumed I’d always have the right one. Most of the time, I did. Pero nakakapagod din. Hindi ako encyclopedia. But compared to the blank stares from my classmates, I guess I was the safest bet.
?“Okay class, let’s take a look at this bridge,” sabi ni Sir habang tinuturo sa screen yung schematic.
“It’s 150 meters long. Gomez, can you explain what’s important to make sure this bridge is structurally sound? I want to know about how much it might deflect or bend under dead load and live load.”
?
?Tumayo ako, straight ang posture, saka ko sinimulan ang paliwanag.
?
?“Sir, for a bridge this long, one of the most critical concerns is deflection. The longer the span, the more susceptible it is to bending or sagging under its own weight and the weight of vehicles, pedestrians, or any live load. To mitigate that, several factors need to be considered.”
?
?Hinawakan ko pa yung ballpen ko habang nagsasalita para mas ma-emphasize ko yung points.
?
?“First is the materialused. High-strength concrete and structural steel are essential. They both have good resistance to compression and tension, respectively. Second, the geometry or shape of the bridge matters. Truss or arch designs help redistribute the loads and reduce bending moments.”
?
?Tumango si Sir, mukhang interesado.
?
?“Third, we need an accurate estimation of the total load the bridge is expected to carry. This includes both dead load and live load. Overdesigning may be uneconomical, pero underdesigning is dangerous. Kaya kailangan sakto lang, with the appropriate factor of safety.”
?
?“Very well explained. You mentioned special techniques. Can you elaborate?”
?
?“Yes, Sir. One technique we can use is called post-tensioning. It’s a method under prestressed concrete systems. We insert high-strength steel cables or tendons inside the concrete. After the concrete cures, we tension the cables by pulling them and anchoring them. This introduces compressive force to the concrete, counteracting the tensile stresses that would cause bending.”
?
?“Very good, Gomez. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Your explanation is clear and well-structured. That’s the level of understanding I expect from a senior student. You can sit down.”
Umupo na'ko then after an hour natapos na rin ang klase. Puro lang ako bar but I'm perfect in every way. I'm smart, pretty, and wise. I have everything, kaya ba 'yon ng boyfriend ni Miss Sanchez?
I was just sitting and using my phone, waiting for my next class, when my friends suddenly started chatting in the group chat.
Oh, should I transfer school then?
I gently set my phone down as I noticed our next professor walking into the room.
Hay, another class.
I forced myself to focus on the lesson, kahit na medyo boring siya.
Ang dali-dali kasi ng topic, parang hindi na kailangan ng lecture.
I already knew most of it from self-study and last week’s discussion.
I found myself zoning out once in a while, my eyes drifting toward the window, watching the trees sway gently outside.
The hours dragged on slowly, the professor’s voice blending into the background noise like a low hum. I fought the urge to yawn or check my phone again. Pero ayoko rin mapagalitan. So I just sat there, pretending to take notes, highlighting random lines in my book for the sake of looking busy.
Eventually, class was finally dismissed. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
Last class ko na rin 'yon for the day, so I gathered my things and started walking out of the University building, heading toward the usual pick-up spot. I pulled out my phone and called our driver to let him know I was ready to be picked up.
"Yes, I'm done. Please come to the gate now," I said calmly before ending the call.
Habang naghihintay ako, I stood near one of the benches outside, scrolling through my messages. The late afternoon sun was warm against my skin, casting long shadows across the pavement. There were still students walking around, some chatting, some laughing, others rushing to their next class.
Then, out of nowhere, I heard hurried footsteps approaching. I looked up—and that’s when I saw her.
Laura.
She was walking straight toward me, eyes already glossy with unshed tears. Her expression was frantic, desperate. I felt a familiar flicker of annoyance in my chest.
Bakit ba siya nandito?
Before I could say anything, she stopped right in front of me and dropped to her knees, causing several students nearby to stop in their tracks and stare at the scene unfolding.
"Sylvia, I'm begging. Love me again, please?" she said, her voice trembling as she pleaded with me in front of everyone.
She knelt down on the pavement, hands clasped like she was praying, eyes wide with desperation.
I blinked at her, expression blank. Love? Love na ba 'yon para sa kanya?
Funny. That whole thing between us—laro lang 'yon para sa’kin eh. A distraction, a phase. I never meant for it to be serious. But clearly, she thought otherwise.
"Laura, stop. Stand up, don't be like this," I said, keeping my tone low but firm. More and more students were turning their heads to watch. I could already feel their curious stares, hear the low whispers spreading through the small crowd.
My heart started pounding—not because of her, but because of the attention we were getting. I didn’t want this scene. I hated drama in public, especially in school.
I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure.
I couldn't let this escalate. I’ve been careful to protect my image—always polite, always collected. The perfect granddaughter. Laging pinapaalala ni lola sa'kin na dapat maayos ang reputasyon ko.
I couldn’t afford to mess that up now—not because of some ex-fling who couldn’t move on.
"Please, Laura," I said again, more gently this time but still insistent. "Stand up."
She didn’t move. Her shoulders shook slightly, and I realized she was crying—actual tears slipping down her cheeks.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
People around us were starting to whisper louder. A few were taking out their phones, subtly recording. Great. Exactly what I didn’t want.
I clenched my jaw. I needed to get out of this situation. I needed her to leave—now.
But I also didn’t want to cause a bigger scene by yelling or walking away coldly. I had to handle it carefully, like always.
I glanced at my phone, checking the time. The driver should be here any minute.
"Laura, please. You're better than this," I said softly, leaning closer so only she could hear me. "You’re making this harder—for both of us."
Still, no response from her. She just kept crying quietly, unmoving.
My fists clenched slightly at my sides, not out of anger—but frustration. I didn’t want to be seen as the villain. I didn’t want anyone to misunderstand this situation. I didn’t want to cause trouble.
"Laura, I don't love you anymore, let me go," I said, my voice cold and calm, even though in the first place, I didn’t love her at all. Not even a bit. The truth was, I just loved playing with her feelings. It was all a game to me— a cruel one, maybe— but a game nonetheless.
Her eyes widened in disbelief, and the pain on her face was almost laughable. She clenched her fists, breathing heavily, trying to hold back her tears and anger.
"How dare you come in my life then leave me like that!" she screamed, her voice trembling with rage. Then, without any warning, she stood up and raised her hand. I barely had time to react before I felt the sting of her palm harshly slapping my cheek.
The sound echoed in the open space just outside the university gate.
A crowd of students had started to form around us, murmuring, watching the drama unfold like it was their afternoon entertainment.
My instinct told me to fight back, but I didn’t move.
I didn’t want to cause more trouble.
I’ve been careful with my image for years— too careful to ruin it now just because of one emotional breakdown from a girl I never really cared about.
Besides, if Lola found out about this, she'd be furious.
Laura didn't stop there. She began hitting me again— shoving me, scratching, her emotions overflowing uncontrollably. I stood still, letting her vent, not because I felt guilty, but because I knew anything I did in return could be twisted against me later.
She raised her hand again, ready to strike me one more time, but then someone stepped in between us, grabbing her wrist mid-air.
"What do you think you're doing?" a voice said—firm, commanding.
I froze. That voice was too familiar. I looked up, blinking, and my eyes confirmed what my ears already knew.
It was Miss Sanchez.
Her face was stern, her gaze sharp as she stared Laura down, still holding her wrist tightly. Laura yanked her arm away and backed off slightly.
"Why are you here?" I asked, still trying to catch my breath. My cheek was stinging, but my pride hurt more.
"What's happening?" she asked me instead, completely ignoring my question.
Before I could answer, Laura screamed again, her voice cracking, full of heartbreak and betrayal. "Siya ba ang bago mo?! Kaya iniwan mo'ko?"
I held back a sigh and placed a hand over my face, pretending to be overwhelmed. "S-stop that already, Lau," I said, pretending to plead with her. The truth? I was just acting. I was always good at pretending.
"Fuck you! Magsama kayong dalawa!" she shouted, her voice echoing around us, and then she turned around and stormed off, shoving through the crowd that quickly parted for her.
The air became heavy with silence as the onlookers slowly began to disperse, realizing the show was over. I felt the weight of Miss Sanchez's eyes on me.
"Who is she?" she asked again, this time her tone lower, tighter. It was clear she was angry now—trying to keep it contained, but I could hear the edge in her voice.
"Just someone," I replied quickly, brushing dust off my skirt. I didn’t want to give her anything more than that. "Why are you here?" I repeated, this time more impatiently.
"Your sister told me to fetch you since your driver can't fetch you because something happened," she answered flatly, then turned around and began walking toward where her car was parked.
I followed beside her quietly, each step feeling heavier than the last. My cheek still throbbed from Laura’s slap, and my pride was bruised more than my skin.
As we approached her car, I finally spoke. "Please don't tell my sister about what happened earlier," I said, keeping my tone low, almost like a whisper.
"Like I care," she muttered under her breath, clearly annoyed.
I frowned, irritated by her attitude. But then she added sharply, "But if you want to play with someone's feelings, make sure you are ready to face the consequences, idiot."
"Excuse me Miss Sanchez, but I'm not playing with anyone's feelings," I said.
"Okay," she replied simply, though it was obvious from the way she said it that she didn’t believe a single word I said.
But how did she even know?
I looked at her for a moment longer, searching for answers in her expression, but she had already turned away, unlocking her car and sliding into the driver’s seat.