Chapter 51
I’m currently here at the University, sitting for our final exam.
The atmosphere is quiet, tense, and focused—everyone's hunched over their papers, pens scribbling, eyes scanning each question like their futures depended on it. This is our last exam before we officially begin our graduation practices next week. After years of assignments, sleepless nights, and cramming sessions, we’re finally nearing the end. Just one more hurdle.
What makes today even more special—and nerve-wracking—is that our proctors are none other than my Ate and Cynthia.
Yes, Cynthia.
It’s surreal. Just yesterday, she said yes. She’s my girlfriend now. I still can’t believe it. After everything I’ve been through—she’s finally mine, and I’m hers. The thought makes my heart race louder than the ticking clock on the wall.
And this is the first time I’ve ever felt this excited during an exam.
Normally, I’d just try to survive it.
But today?
I’m aiming for something more.
Because we made a deal: if I get perfect scores on all my exams, Cynthia and I will go on a movie date together.
Just the two of us.
Our first real date.
No pressure, right?
But every time I glance up and see her standing by the door with that calm, unreadable expression, my motivation spikes.
I want her to see me succeed—not just academically, but as someone worth being proud of.
Every correct answer on this exam feels like a step closer to sitting beside her in a dark cinema, sharing popcorn, whispering jokes during the trailers, and maybe, just maybe, holding her hand the entire time.
I took a deep breath and stared at the clean sheet of paper on my desk. The exam hadn’t started yet, but my heart was already racing—not from nerves, but from something sweeter. Something more thrilling.
Cynthia is officially mine.
The words kept repeating in my mind like a favorite song. I couldn’t stop smiling.
Now, she was just a few meters away, standing up front beside my Ate, clipboard in hand, scanning the room like a proper exam proctor. Her hair was tied up neatly, her eyes sharp, her expression serious—but every now and then, when our eyes met, her face would soften, just a little. Just for me.
I shifted in my seat, trying to hide my grin as the instructor called for silence. It was time.
The papers were handed out. I took mine and placed it carefully on the desk, picking up my pen. I let myself glance up once more. Cynthia wasn’t looking—but I imagined she was rooting for me anyway.
I whispered quietly to myself, “Let’s do this.”
As soon as I started, everything clicked.
The questions came easy, like they were written just for me.
I knew every formula, every theory, every trick question that tried to trip me up.
I breezed through the multiple choice, my confidence growing with each bubble I filled in.
The essay portion came next, and words flowed effortlessly from my mind to the paper.
I was in the zone—focused, steady, unstoppable.
But I wasn’t just doing this for me anymore. I was doing it for us. For that movie date we promised. For the moment I would walk up to her, hand in my paper.
Time passed, but I barely noticed.
Occasionally, I'd glance up to give my eyes a break, and every time, I’d find Cynthia—checking the rows, or whispering something to Ate—but never far away. I wondered if she knew what was going on in my head. How hard I was working, not just for a grade, but for her.
My classmates around me fidgeted, scribbled furiously, and some even sighed in frustration. But I stayed calm. I was always like this during exams—collected, confident. I found things easy, and today was no exception. It was almost like the questions were answering themselves.
Three hours went by before the final bell rang. I looked over my paper one last time, rereading everything. I wasn’t just aiming to pass. I was chasing perfection. And I knew, deep down, I’d done it.
I stood up and walked toward the front. Cynthia looked up, and our eyes locked.
“You’re done?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
I nodded, handing her my paper. “Yup.”
“Confident?” she teased, hiding a smile.
I leaned a little closer and whispered, “Get ready for our movie date.”
She blushed—just a little—and glanced down at the paper in her hand like it suddenly weighed more.
I turned and walked away, heart light, steps even. The hallway outside was quieter than usual, and I felt like I was floating.
Tomorrow, the results would come out.
But today?
Today I was already winning.
"Gala tayo, tagal na natin 'di nakakagala." aya ni Kinsley sa amin nang nakalabas na kami sa kwarto.
"Kaya nga, nagiging KJ na kayo." dagdag pa ni Cecilia kaya natawa nalang kami.
"Where?" I asked.
"Bar." sagot ni Cecilia kaya umiling ka agad ako.
"Oo nga pala, bagong buhay kana. Karaoke nalang oh, ano G?" sabi nito kaya doon ako tumango.
“Pero guys,” reklamo ni Kinsley bigla, holding her stomach like she was auditioning for a telenovela, “2 PM na. Wala pa tayong lunch. I swear, I’m hallucinating chicken.”
“Yung bituka ko nagfa-fast track to the afterlife,” drama ni Cecilia habang kinikilig na gutom. “If we don’t eat now, I’m gonna pass out with style.”
I looked at Eliana, who was already side-eyeing them like she wanted to resign from the friendship.
“They’re not okay,” I muttered.
“They’ve never been okay,” she replied, sipping from her hydroflask like she wasn’t emotionally checking out.
“Okay wait, may alam akong tapsihan!” sigaw ni Kinsley na parang nakahabol siya sa Amazing Race. “Promise, legit ‘yon. Review said: ‘timplang nanay, presyo ng kanto.’”
“Perfect,” ani Cecilia. “Kahit sinangag lang, basta may feelings.”
I sighed. “Basta walang pila.”
Spoiler: there was a pila.
We never should’ve let Kinsley suggest the tapsihan. That was our first mistake. The second was trusting Cecilia to behave in public.
The place was packed. As in, wala kang maaamoy kundi pawis, toyo, at secondhand regret kind of packed. May pila pa palabas ng karinderya, and the sun was out for blood. Literal.
“Trust me,” sabi ni Kinsley, na proud na proud sa sarili, “this place is famous sa mga broke na estudyante. May heart ‘yung tapa dito.”
We were still in line, barely moving, when Cecilia suddenly gasped. Like literal gasp, akala mo may artista sa likod.
“AY—AY MAY UPONG BAKANTE!” she shrieked, voice at full volume like she had a mic.
Kinsley whipped her head around. “SAAN?! KUNIN NA NATIN YAN!”
And before I could react, they sprinted. As in full-on pang-SEA Games level takbuhan papunta sa loob, past the line, past the people eating, past a poor dude about to sit down.
“Kuya, sorry, kami na diyan ha? Reserve!”
“Hoy! May pila!” shouted someone behind us.
“Unahan lang po! First come, first serve!” Cecilia declared, like she was defending herself in court.
Minutes later, somehow, miraculously, nakaupo na kami. Don’t ask how. I think Kinsley bribed someone with ?1000 just to let us squeeze into a table for two. We were four. I was balancing my bag on my lap, pressed against Eliana who looked one sneeze away from walking out.
“Okay,” Cecilia said, grinning. “Ang ganda ng spot natin! Kita pa ‘yung naglalaba sa likod oh.”
“Ambiance,” dagdag ni Kinsley. “This is raw, gritty, authentic.”
The server arrived looking exhausted and already done with life.
“Order?” he asked, not even pretending to smile.
“Four tapsilog, extra rice, iced tea—tatlo,” Kinsley began confidently, like she was ordering in a hotel. “May iced matcha ba kayo?”
“Wala.”
“Okay, sige, iced tea nalang—pero baka may calamansi ka jan sa likod. Gawin nating fancy,” Cecilia added.
I wanted to die.
“I’ll just have water,” I said quickly before they could get more ideas.
Food took a while. During that time, Cecilia and Kinsley entertained themselves by people-watching and giving everyone nicknames.
“‘Uy, si Bumbay Jay oh, ‘yung laging nasa photocopy shop. Ba’t andito siya?” Cecilia whispered loudly.
“Hindi siya Bumbay, Cecilia!” I hissed, eyes wide. “That's literally a third-year engineering student. He’s Ilocano.”
“Oh,” she blinked. “Well, multicultural ang campus.”
And then it happened.
As the food arrived, Cecilia’s giant limited-edition LV bag decided it was time for a main character moment. She slung it too hard, hit the edge of the table, and—
CRASH.
Her iced tea tipped, bounced off the table, and splashed all over her white pants and the girl behind her.
“A—AY, ANG LAMIG! PUTANGINA!”
Gasps. Glares. One full moment of silence. Then—
The girl who got splashed behind Cecilia stood up, fuming. “Ate, grabe kayo. Nanahimik kami dito—binasa niyo ako. Okay lang sana kung Sprite, pero Iced tea?!”
“Sorry po!” Cecilia said quickly, grabbing a stack of napkins like she could erase her sins. “Gusto niyo palitan ko shirt niyo? May extra akong pang-Zumba sa kotse!”
People were staring. A man across from us whispered, “Taga-saan ba mga ‘to?”
Cecilia looked proudly at her wet pants. “At least iced tea. Kung toyo ‘yan, di na ‘to maaayos.”
Kinsley, still red from the sili, waved dramatically. “Okay na ‘ko. Worth it pa rin."
The server came back, dead in the eyes. “Miss, basag ‘yung baso niyo. Next time wag nyo isaboy.”
“Kami po magbabayad. Sorry po. Promise, tatlong linggo na ‘kong di nanggugulo,” Cecilia said sweetly.
Somehow, we got through lunch. Kinsley burned her tongue again. Cecilia spilled vinegar on her shoes. I think Eliana briefly left her body and astral projected to a cleaner, quieter café.
When we finally stood up to leave, I saw the small pool of iced tea on the floor, the shattered glass, and Cecilia’s stained pants.
“Successful lunch!” Kinsley said, triumphant.
“Memorable,” Cecilia nodded. “Parang episode ng ‘Survivor.’”
Pagkatapos ng lunch na parang giyera sa tapsihan, akala namin tapos na ang kahihiyan. Pero hindi. Syempre hindi.
“What about your pants, Cel? They're wet,” I said, genuinely concerned, while trying not to stare too much at the massive iced tea stain spreading across her beige trousers like some kind of modern art piece.
“That’s her problem,” Eli said without missing a beat, arms crossed and with the most unbothered face I’ve ever seen in my life—parang literal na wala siyang pake.
“Sabi nga nila, tawanan mo na lang ang iyong problema,” Cecilia replied, voice dramatic like she was in a teleserye, flipping her hair kahit basa 'yung pants niya.
As if on cue, like she had been waiting all her life for this exact moment, Kinsley burst into song with all the grace of a drunk karaoke contestant at 3PM.
“Tawanan mo ang iyung problimaaaaaa~” she wailed, her voice cracking at the high note like a dying kettle, eyes closed, hands raised to the ceiling like she was summoning the spirit of Whitney Houston in a sari-sari store.
And then—God help me—they did it.
They started laughing.
Not normal laughing. No. They laughed like unhinged evil masterminds about to take over the world. They laughed like villains in a low-budget stage play.
“MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Cecilia belted out, doubling over and slapping her knee, while people—actual human beings with dignity—began turning their heads toward us in horror and mild concern.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Kinsley added, her face already red, clutching her chest like she was seconds away from meeting Jesus.
“WHA—AGH, AGH—Tangina, hindi na ako makahinga!” Cecilia wheezed between gasps, tears streaming down her cheeks as she leaned against a table for support.
At that point, I slowly stepped back.
They kept going. Kept laughing. People were still staring. A waiter looked like he wanted to call security.
“Bilis na! May alam akong store na super sosyal. Doon tayo bibili ng pants mo!” sigaw ni Kinsley habang hinila si Cecilia paalis ng parking lot, hawak-hawak pa rin ang basang-basa at manilaw-nilaw niyang pantalon.
“Yung tipong hindi lang pants ang binibili—pati ego mo, nire-repair!” dagdag ni Kinsley, sabay tawa na parang truck horn.
Ako at si Eliana? Tahimik lang. Sunog na sa kahihiyan. Pero dahil wala kaming choice at ayaw naming mawala sila ulit sa mall (which has happened. Twice.), sumunod na lang kami.
Pagdating namin sa high-end department store, agad silang sumugod sa loob na parang hindi lang sila galing sa tapsihan na amoy suka at iced tea.
“Good afternoon, Ma’am, Sir—” bungad ng sales associate, pero bago pa siya makapagtapos—
“Hello, yes, bibili po kami ng pants na mahal para ma-wash away ang trauma ko,” sabat agad ni Cecilia, palakpak pa ng dalawang beses. “Yung may healing powers, kung meron.”
“Excuse me po, ito po ang latest collection namin,” sabi ng saleslady, medyo kinakabahan na. “Imported denim, handmade, and—”
“Anong size ‘to?” tanong ni Kinsley habang sinukat ang pants sa balikat niya. “Okay ‘to! Kung hindi kasya sa bewang, baka pwede sa leeg!”
“Ma’am, hindi po ‘yan accurate way mag-sukat…”
“Ay, talaga ba? Eh bat ‘yung nanay ko ganun sumukat sa palengke? Effective naman!” sagot ni Cecilia, sabay irap na may lambing.
Kinuha na nila ang ilang pares at dumiretso sa fitting room, pero hindi pa tapos ang kalokohan.
“SYLVIAAAA!” sigaw ni Cecilia mula sa loob ng cubicle. “Halika dito, honest opinion mo!”
“No, thank you,” sagot ko, pero si Eliana tinapik ako. “Just go. Para matapos na. I’ll light a candle for your dignity.”
Nang buksan ni Cecilia ang pinto, parang sinapak ako ng kulay—neon green na jeans na parang galing sa Power Rangers.
“Bagay ba? O mukha akong traffic cone na mayaman?”
“Mas mukha kang green screen na pwedeng i-edit sa movie,” bulong ko habang pinipilit ‘di matawa.
“Perfect! Kukunin ko ‘to!”
“Ma’am, five digits po ang presyo niyan,” sabi ng staff.
“Okay lang. Kesa sa dignity ko. Yun kasi, ubos na,” sagot ni Cecilia, sabay swipe ng card na parang nambubura ng utang.
Paglabas niya ng fitting room, naka-change outfit na siya. Dala-dala pa ang lumang pants niya sa Louis Vuitton paper bag na binigay ng tindera, kahit amoy iced tea pa rin.
“Ano, ready na tayong mag-ikot?” tanong ni Kinsley, naka-sunglasses kahit indoors.
“Puntahan natin yung accessories section!” sigaw ni Cecilia, sabay takbo. Muntik nang masagasaan ang isang mannequin.
Sa accessories section, mas lalong lumala ang gulo. Habang tinitingnan ko ang isang minimalist gold necklace, narinig ko na naman ang tunog ng kapahamakan—yung signature tawa ni Kinsley na parang sirena ng ambulansya.
“Cecilia! Tingnan mo ‘to! Pambansang kwintas!”
At hawak-hawak niya ay isang mala-kadena ng bike na necklace. Hindi literal, pero malapit-lapit na. Baka pang-rapper. O pang-demonyo.
“Ay, ang ganda! Mukha akong rich version ni Kuya Kim!” sagot ni Cecilia, sabay suot.
“Ma’am, hindi po ‘yan para isukat kung walang assistance,” paalala ng staff.
“Ay, ganun ba? Sorry po, nalibang lang,” sagot ni Kinsley habang kinikilig sa sarili.
“Ano, picture-an mo na ako, Kins,” utos ni Cecilia.
“Sa ilalim ng ilaw. Parang ano… rich and controversial,” dagdag ni Kinsley.
Nagpakuha talaga sila ng picture habang suot ang sobrang laki at sobrang kintab na accessories na para bang papasok sila sa Met Gala.
“Eliana, can we pretend we don’t know them?” I asked.
“No need. I already did,” she replied, not even blinking.
Maya-maya pa, habang abala si Cecilia sa pagpili ng pang-ootd, si Kinsley naman biglang naglakad ng fashion show sa gitna ng aisle. As in literal runway walk—hands on hips, exaggerated pout, naka-ikot pa ng buhok.
“Ma’am, bawal po tumakbo,” sabi ng guard.
“HINDI AKO TUMATAKBO, NAG-MODEL AKO!” sigaw niya.
“Cecilia, please,” I begged. “Let’s just pay and go.”
“Okay, okay,” ani Cecilia habang nagbabayad. “Pero last na ‘to. Promise.”
Paglabas namin ng store, hawak nila pareho ang paper bags.
“Alam niyo ba, proud ako,” ani Cecilia. “Hindi lahat kaya bumili ng pants after ng iced tea accident. That’s called character development.”
“Character downfall,” Eliana muttered.
“Luh, inggit ka lang,” Kinsley laughed.
Pagbalik namin sa parking lot, pagod na pagod kami pero sila? High pa rin sa kakatawa.
Pagkatapos ng department store escapade na parang episode ng Crazy Rich Asians kung sinulat ni Vice Ganda, sumakay na kami sa kotse. Si Kinsley ang designated driver—dahil ayon sa kanya, “Ako lang dito ang hindi easily distracted. Unless may cute na tambay.” Comforting.
Cecilia was in the front seat, proudly wearing her neon green pants, matching shades, and a newfound delusion of fashion superiority. Ako, Eliana, at ang aming mga basag na espiritu sa likod.
“Okay, soundcheck!” sigaw ni Kinsley habang binubuhay ang Bluetooth.
“No,” Eliana and I said in unison.
“Yes,” Cecilia insisted, already connecting her phone. “May playlist ako. Tinawag ko siyang 'Pabebe to Palaban'.”
And then—boom. First song? "Kilometro" ni Sarah G. at full blast, parang concert sa loob ng Honda.
“WHOOO! THIS IS MY POWER SONG!” sigaw ni Cecilia.
“Kinsley, focus ka sa daan, please,” sabi ko habang naka-seatbelt na parang safety blanket.
“Relax. I’m a professional,” she said, just as she accidentally hit the windshield wiper instead of the turn signal.
“Bakit umaambon sa loob?” tanong ni Eliana, deadpan.
“Mystery ‘yan,” sagot ni Kinsley habang nagki-kickstart ng reverse gear kahit wala namang kailangan i-reverse.
Meanwhile, si Cecilia biglang naglabas ng karaoke mic—yung wireless na may sariling speaker.
“Ano ‘to—Bring Your Own Gulo?” bulong ko.
“Nakakatuwa ‘to, Sylvia! Gusto mong duet?” alok niya habang inoorasan ko na ang sarili kong pasensya.
“Waze says ten minutes,” Eliana muttered, looking at her phone. “But with this group? I give it thirty. And three near-death experiences.”
Nasa stoplight na kami nang biglang sumigaw si Kinsley: “OMG. LOOK.”
We all looked.
A group of cute med students crossing the street.
Cecilia gasped, lowered her shades. “Target locked.”
Before I could scream don’t roll down the window, she already did.
“Hi, future doctors!” she shouted. “Need patients? My heart needs checking!”
Kinsley honked, sabay kindat.
The med students sped up.
Eliana groaned. “We’re going to get banned from this city.”
Maya-maya, biglang nagka-traffic. Stuck kami sa gitna ng kalye, and syempre, dun pa talaga naisipan ni Cecilia na kantahin ang “Bakit Pa Ba” na may buong damdamin, sa mic.
As in with vibrato and shoulder movement.
“BAKIT PAAA~ BA~ NAGAWA~!”
“Shhh! People are watching—” I tried to stop her.
“NASAKTAN KO ANG ISANG TULAD MO NA LABIS NA NAGMA-MAHAL!" she shouted, hitting a high note that cracked the mic. Literally. May static pa.
Isang jeep driver sa tabi namin, tumingin ng matagal, then offered a slow clap. “Galing,” he said.
“See?” Cecilia grinned. “May fans na tayo!”
Finally, the traffic moved. Thank God.
After a few more wrong turns, isang nearly missed pothole, and two arguments about whether Karaoke Place A had better nachos than Karaoke Place B, we finally arrived.
Cecilia flung the door open like she was walking into Coachella.
“Let’s goooo!” she yelled, sa parking lot pa lang.
“Baka gusto mong maghintay ng elevator?” I asked.
“Para saan pa, kung pwede namang rumampa sa stairs?” Kinsley declared, and the two of them literally skipped toward the building like it was a music video.
As we arrived here inside, we rented this whole place today. The place is nice, not like a usual karaoke.
Sa loob ng karaoke room, parang may magic na nangyayari, pero kabaligtaran.
Yung mga tawa namin, yung hagikgik ni Kinsley, pati na rin ang hitsura ni Cecilia, parang nagiging soundtrack ng isang komedya.
Lahat kami, may sariling mundo na, pati si Eliana na parang wala lang, tahimik lang sa sulok, nakatingin sakanila ng may matalim na tingin, as usual.
Tapos si Cecilia, walang pakundangan, hawak mic, at nag-start na.
“Luha” by Aegis ang napili ni Kinsley. For some reason. Sa dami ng kanta, ito talaga ang pinili niya. Sabi niya, this is for the soul daw. Sure. The soul of who, exactly?
“Akalá ko ekaw ay aken~!” simula niya, standing on the karaoke couch like she was performing in Araneta Coliseum. Eyes closed, hand on chest, parang sinaksak ng emotions.
“Totóó sa akeng panengen~!” hirit ni Cecilia, na may hawak na mic pero mukhang barbel kung kumapit—dalawang kamay, nakatikwas ang pinky. Sabay sila, pero magkaiba ng timing, magkaiba rin ng nota. Parang nag-aaway yung boses nila sa hangin.
“Ngunit nang ekaw ay yakapen… naglalaho sa deleeeem~!” Cecilia again, and this time may pa-kulot na vibrato pero parang nasamid. Tumayo siya, pumikit, at sabay talon from the floor papuntang sofa.
“Kinsley, what key is this?” I asked, na more of a cry for help than anything. Hindi siya sumagot. Masyado siyang abala sa pagkembot habang hawak 'yung mic na parang espada.
“Ninais ko'ng ma-la-pit sayooooo!” Kinsley wailed, shaking as if nakuryente. Tumama 'yung tuhod niya sa mesa pero dedma. Tuloy ang laban.
“Ninais kong malaMmmnnMmmNNn~ mow!” Cecilia’s turn. Her face red. Literal na parang nanalo siya sa baranggay singing contest kahit wala namang audience kundi ako, si Eliana, at 'yung tissue box na nakasilip sa gilid ng table.
“Ang mga paghihirap koow…”
“Balewala lang sa’yuUUUUUuuuuu~!”
Sabay sila. Harmonizing like a blender and a chainsaw in heat.
“IKAW AY AKINNG MINAHAL!” Kinsley yelled, tumilapon 'yung mic cover. Cecilia caught it mid-air like a true performer. Kakaibang teamwork.
“Kasama ko ang… maYyyy… kapaLLL!” Cecilia howled, may tear pa sa gilid ng mata.
“Ngunit at ako pala’y… naging isang HANGAAAAAAL~!”
This time, sinabayan pa ni Kinsley ng pag-slide sa table. As in literal na dumapa. May tunog pa. May basang parte ang damit niya now. I don’t even want to know.
“Naghahangad ng isang… katulad mooooowww~”
“Hindi ko naaaAAaaAaaAAAA… KAILANGAAAAAAANNNnn~!!”
And just when I thought tapos na…
“UMALIS KA NA SA AKING HARAAAAAAAAA—”
BLAG.
The door slammed open.
Naglakad ang operator sa loob ng room, nakatingin kami sa kanya. “Uhm… everything okay here?”
Si Kinsley, sumagot, “Yung mic kasi, nag-piyok din sa sobrang taas eh, kasi super-talented kami!" Piyok ulit siya, ang sakit na!
“Eh… sigurado ka po?” tanong ng operator, tinitingnan kami ng seryoso. “Kasi... parang may problema yata kayo… sa mga mic, I mean.” Medyo nag-aalala na yung operator.
“Oo nga po eh,” sagot niya, hands on hips, voice still wobbly from the last note. “Feel ko talaga sa mic po talaga 'yung issue, pero okay lang! We can manage po. Mga professional po kasi kami.”
Napatango si Ate operator, slowly, like she was debating whether to call security or the fire department.
“Ah… sige po…” she finally said, obviously not convinced pero ayaw na ring makipagtalo. Hindi katanggap-tanggap 'yung sagot niya in the grand scheme of customer service, pero given the chaos inside the room, baka nga mas okay na lang na mag-retreat siya.
As soon as she stepped out, Kinsley turned to us like nothing happened and clapped once. “Okay, next song!”
“BAKIT NGA BA MAHAL KITA!~” sigaw ni Cecilia, agad-agad.
Walang pahinga.
Parang kaluluwa siyang hindi matahimik hangga’t hindi nailalabas lahat ng Aegis repertoire.
She started typing the song code on the remote with the kind of intensity you'd expect from someone entering a nuclear launch sequence.
“I’ll buy some drinks and food outside,” I said, grabbing my wallet and keys like I was escaping a cult. “May gusto kayo?”
Biglang naputol 'yung pa-intro ni Cecilia. Napalingon silang dalawa.
“Chicken! And beer!” sigaw ni Cecilia, walang ka-delay-delay. Parang naka-ready na ‘yung order niya mula kanina pa. Tumango na lang ako, speechless, and quietly made my way to the door.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
The longer I stayed inside that karaoke room, the more likely I’d end up losing my sanity because of the way Kinsley and Cecilia were belting out their songs like they were auditioning for a Broadway show.
Wala na akong magawa kundi maghanap ng konting peace, kaya lumabas ako ng room, kahit papatagal pa ang pagbalik ko.
It wasn’t far naman—sa tabi lang ng kanto, kaya mabilis akong nakarating sa lugar na may bilihan ng fried chicken at sa 7/11 na malapit.
I picked up a couple of buckets of crispy chicken and some drinks.
Hindi ko na rin kinalimutan yung beer, kasi baka magtampo pa si Cecilia kung wala.
Pagkatapos kong magbayad, nagtuloy na ako pabalik sa karaoke place.
Habang naglalakad pabalik, may nakita akong pamilyar na figure mula sa malayo. Si Theo. Hindi ko pa siya tinutokang mabuti kasi hindi ko na rin siya ine-expect makita dito.
At first, I was about to ignore it, but then I noticed something—he was hugging someone. A girl. A familiar girl. But honestly, hindi ko na tinignan pa nang mabuti. I could’ve sworn she looked familiar, pero baka nga may problema lang sa mata ko, so I decided to just brush it off and keep walking.
Hindi ko na rin masyadong pinansin. Wala naman akong pakialam. I had more important things to focus on—like surviving the chaos back in the karaoke room with my friends.