You're Making Me Crazy, Professor

Chapter 63

I was still at the University, hanging out with my friends just after our class. We were all seated on one of the benches near the garden, enjoying the slight breeze and chatting about random things. My mind was drifting somewhere else, though. Probably tired. Or maybe just bored.

“I’ll have to go first, I still need to fetch Sylvia,” Athena suddenly said, standing up and brushing off the crumbs from her skirt.

That caught my attention.

Wait—she’s fetching Sylvia?

I turned my head slightly to look at her, trying to mask the way my ears perked up at the sound of her name. Sylvia. Why did it matter to me that Athena was the one picking her up?

It shouldn’t. Right? I mean, I’ve moved on. I have. Or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Over and over again.

So then why did my mouth move on its own?

“I’ll fetch her,” I suddenly blurted out, almost too fast. And—what the hell? Did I just say that out loud?

Athena blinked at me, confused. “What? Why?”

Panic surged through me for a split second, but I quickly recovered, flashing a calm smile like I had a solid reason all along. “I mean, you’re busy, right?”

I pointed at the laptop case slung over her shoulder. “Didn’t you say you still have something to pass later at 7 p.m.? A paper or a project? You should probably focus on that. I can go get her for you.”

I made sure to sound casual. Cool.

Athena hesitated for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Well… okay. If you’re sure.”

“Yes!” I muttered under my breath the moment she turned away.

Nice one, Cynthia. Smooth.

Minutes later, I was on my way to Sylvia’s university. I glanced out the car window, watching the streets blur past.

Honestly…

why does she study here anyway?

She could’ve just enrolled in our university.

It’s not like she couldn’t afford the tuition or had any issues with the entrance exam.

I mean, she’s Sylvia.

Of course she would’ve passed.

I heard from Athena before that she was taking Civil Engineering.

Made sense—she always liked solving things, building things.

She liked order, structure.

When I finally got off at the front gate, I could immediately feel the atmosphere.

Sylvia’s school felt different—cleaner, louder, brighter maybe?

I adjusted my blazer as I walked past groups of students chatting near the entrance.

I scanned the area casually, trying not to look like some lost stalker.

That’s when I noticed a small crowd forming under the trees near the left wing of the building. A lot of students, all gathered in one place, laughing, filming, and watching something—or someone.

Curiosity tugged at me, and before I knew it, I was walking toward the group.

And that’s when I saw her.

Sylvia.

There she was, standing in the middle of the circle.

But… wait.

Who was that?

There was a girl standing beside her. About the same height, maybe a bit taller, with short hair and a confident stance. She was holding Sylvia’s hand.

My stomach dropped.

“Sylvia, I’m begging. Love me again, please?” the girl sobbed, her voice cracking as she knelt on the ground in front of Sylvia.

I stood there among the crowd, hidden in plain sight. My arms were crossed, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. Of course. It’s her. Laura. Sylvia’s target from before. The girl she played around with like a game.

Deserve! I thought, the satisfaction bubbling inside me like champagne. That’s what you get for falling for someone like her.

“Laura, stop. Stand up, don’t be like this,” Sylvia said, clearly uncomfortable. She reached down, trying to help the girl to her feet, but Laura wouldn’t budge.

My eyes narrowed as I took in the scene. Still so soft, huh, Sylvia?

“Laura, I don’t love you anymore. Let me go,” she said firmly.

I raised an eyebrow. Of course you don’t. You never did. Everything you ever did with her—it was all just fun for you. Nothing real.

“How dare you come into my life and then leave me like that!” Laura screamed, her voice breaking—and then suddenly, she stood up and slapped Sylvia across the face.

WHAT?

My heart skipped a beat.

Did she just—? I froze, fists clenched, blood boiling. She dared to lay a hand on my Sylvia?

The slap echoed through the air like a gunshot. Whispers rippled through the crowd. Phones were out. Some were filming. Everyone was watching—but no one moved.

And Laura wasn’t done. She started hitting Sylvia again, out of anger, desperation, I don’t know what. I couldn’t take it anymore.

My legs moved on their own, fueled by rage.

I stormed through the circle, parting the students like the Red Sea until I stood between Sylvia and Laura.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I snapped, voice low but full of venom.

I tilted my head slightly, pretending to be clueless, but the anger was burning through my skin. My jaw tightened. My fists itched. How dare she touch her like that?

Sylvia blinked, looking up at me in shock, as if she’d seen a ghost. “Why are you here?”

I ignored her question and turned my gaze toward Sylvia instead. “What’s happening?”

“Siya ba ang bago mo? Kaya mo ko iniwan?!” Laura shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at me.

“S-Stop that already, Lau,” Sylvia said weakly, her voice shaking. “Please…”

I scoffed mentally. What a performance, Sylvia. Oscar-worthy.

“Fuck you! Magsama kayong dalawa!” Laura spat before storming off, tears staining her cheeks.

I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow, looking at her retreating back. Really? That’s your big exit line? Of course we’ll be together, you idiot.

She's my long-lost wife. Dzuh.

Once Laura disappeared into the crowd, I turned to Sylvia, my expression colder than ice.

“Who is she?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.

But I couldn’t hide the edge in my voice. Of course, I knew exactly who Laura was. I’d been watching Sylvia from afar for years—her posts, her stories, her connections. I knew everything.

“She’s just someone,” Sylvia replied, wiping her face. “Why are you here?”

JUST SOMEONE? I screamed internally. Really? Just someone? Are you serious right now, pufferfish?!

I kept my face calm, pretending not to care. “Your sister told me to fetch you. Your driver couldn’t come—something happened.”

I shrugged, as if it was nothing. As if my chest wasn’t pounding. As if I wasn’t about to pass out from being this close to her again.

Sylvia nodded, then hesitated. “Please… don’t tell my sister about what happened earlier.”

I rolled my eyes. Tell your sister? Oh, I’ll tell her alright—about how much you hurt me. About how your smile still haunts me. About how you ripped me apart and acted like it meant nothing. Hmp.

“Like I care,” I said flatly, then added in a colder tone, “But if you want to play with someone’s feelings, make sure you’re ready to face the consequences, idiot.”

Her head snapped toward me, offended. “Excuse me, Miss Sanchez, but I’m not playing with anyone’s feelings.”

I almost laughed. Not playing, huh? Who are you trying to fool? Yourself? Or the long list of broken hearts you left behind?

“Okay,” I replied dryly, not bothering to hide my disbelief.

She glanced at me sideways, a faint smirk forming on her lips. “Out of all people… why are you the one fetching me? Interested in me, Miss?”

I stared at her for a moment. She dared to tease me right now? After all that?

“I didn’t know Athena had such a feeler sister,” I said with a mocking smile.

Idiot. Of course I’m interested in you. I’ve been interested in you since the day you sat in front of me and ruined my life without even trying.

“I’m not a feeler, Miss. Everyone likes me,” she replied, flipping her hair with that confident attitude that never failed to drive me insane.

And unfortunately… she wasn’t wrong. Everyone did like her.

“Everyone might like you,” I said, my voice turning icy, “but don’t include me. You’re nothing more to me than Athena’s younger sister.”

There. Delivered with precision. Cold. Clean. No emotion. Like she never meant anything to me.

Nice acting, Cynthia. Maybe it’s time to switch careers and become an actress. At least there, lying is part of the job description.

“‘Diyan talaga nagsisimula lahat, alam mo ba ’yon?’” she said teasingly, leaning closer to me, her voice smooth and low like she knew exactly what she was doing.

My grip on the steering wheel tightened as she moved a few inches nearer. I could feel the heat radiating from her body—her perfume, that same intoxicating scent from years ago, filled the space between us.

Oh lord, guide me. I closed my eyes briefly.

Either You take the wheel or I swear I’ll crash this car because my heart can’t take this anymore!

“Get out of the car,” I said abruptly, pulling to the side of the road with a sharp turn.

My voice came out steadier than I felt, but it wasn’t because I really wanted her to leave. God, no. I just needed a second to breathe—to stop myself from losing it right there beside her.

“Gosh, I’m just joking around,” she said with a pout, her tone light, pretending she hadn’t just sent my heart into a frenzy.

Whatever, Sylvia. Whatever. You can’t just say things like that and expect me to be normal.

“Keep saying nonsense and I’ll be the one to push you out of this car,” I said, trying to sound annoyed.

My tone was stern, but deep down I knew I could never do that. Not to her. Not even if she burned my whole world down. I care for you too much, pufferfish.

“Harsh,” she whispered, but of course, I heard it loud and clear. She wanted me to hear it.

After that, silence took over the car. Not an awkward silence, but the kind that wrapped itself around me like a blanket. Comfortable. Safe. Her presence was enough. It always had been.

I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. Her head was turned toward the window, her expression unreadable. She looked peaceful, content even, like this moment was just another part of her ordinary day.

But for me… this moment was everything.

Even if she couldn’t remember anything—us, our past, everything we had—I still felt it. Every little detail. And it hurt. Because no matter how much I tried to move on, I couldn’t erase the way she used to look at me back then.

I missed that kid. I missed her so much it made my chest ache. My eyes stung, the tears threatening to fall, but I blinked them away quickly. No, Cynthia. Not now. Don’t cry in front of her. Keep it together.

A few more minutes passed until we finally reached her house. I parked in front of the gate, then kept my gaze forward, not daring to look at her.

“Get out,” I said flatly, keeping my voice neutral. I didn’t trust myself to look at her without breaking.

“Thank you, Miss,” she replied, a playful tone laced in her words. “I like the way you drive. But do you know that I’m good at driving too?”

I heard her door open, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of that mischievous smile she wore so effortlessly. Her smirk could melt glaciers. I swear, she really thought this was a game.

But it’s not a game to me, Sylvia. Never was.

“I didn’t ask,” I muttered, trying to shield myself from her charm. But then—

“Try riding me in bed, Miss. I’ll show you how good I am.”

WHAT?!

My entire soul left my body for a moment.

Did she seriously just say that?

I gulped, hard. My fingers froze over the gear shift. My eyes blinked rapidly, trying to process the words that just came out of her mouth.

I didn’t raise her that way! What kind of line is that?!

“Get the hell out of the car now. I’m losing patience with you, Gomez,” I barked, barely managing to hold it together. My voice shook, and it wasn’t from anger.

“Chill, I’m just joking. See you again, Miss!” she said, giving me a wink before stepping out of the car like nothing happened—like she didn’t just flip my whole world upside down again.

I didn’t wait for the gate to close behind her. As soon as her door slammed shut, I stepped on the gas and drove off like a maniac.

My heart was racing, my mind was screaming, and my hands were trembling on the wheel.

Calm down, Cyn. Calm down. Deep breaths.

But how can I calm down when she says things like that so casually? Like it’s just another line in a conversation? Like it doesn’t mean anything?

And the worst part?

It means everything to me.

---

I’m here at the University, and classes have just ended for the day.

Normally, I’d stay behind, maybe go over some papers, but today feels different.

Something's wrong. I don't know what exactly, but my whole body feels off.

My head is light, my chest aches, and breathing has started to feel like a chore.

Maybe I’m just tired, I told myself, trying to brush it off as I walked toward the parking lot.

I could already see my car in the distance, but with each step I took, my legs felt heavier—like I was dragging myself through water.

I coughed again, hard this time, and leaned against a nearby pillar to steady myself.

My chest was really starting to hurt now.

Shit.

I tried to continue walking, one step at a time. Almost there. I just needed to get inside the car and drive home. But before I could reach it, my vision blurred, and my knees buckled under me. The world around me tilted, and I was sure I was going to hit the ground—

But I didn’t.

Someone caught me.

My eyes fluttered open in panic—and then confusion. Sylvia?

She held me close, one hand at my back, the other around my waist. Her brows were furrowed in concern. “Are you okay, Miss?” she asked softly, her grip steady.

Of course it had to be her. Of all people.

And yes—if you’re wondering—Sylvia is now my student.

She actually transferred to this University.

Can you believe that?

Transferring just for me?

Small things, as the Gen Zs would say.

At first, I was dead set on rejecting her application.

I didn’t want anything to do with her anymore.

But, well…

the heart always wins.

Unfortunately.

I could feel my pulse quickening. Not from the pain anymore—but from her touch. From her nearness. This is not the time, Cynthia. Get it together.

I pulled away abruptly, mustering all the strength I had left. “Let go of me,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt.

But she didn’t listen. Her eyes scanned me, still full of concern. “Are you okay?” she asked again.

“Stop pretending like you care,” I snapped, not because I wanted to hurt her, but because I didn’t want her to get hurt. She was prone to sickness, I knew that.

I tried walking away again, stumbling slightly as dizziness took over. My body didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Before I could fall this time, she caught me again.

“Gosh! Hindi ka okay,” she said, her tone now filled with panic.

I looked up at her. Even in my blurred vision, she looked so damn stunning. Same as always. Just looking at her made it harder to breathe—and this time, it wasn’t because I was sick.

“You don’t care. Let me go,” I whispered again, trying to push myself away.

“No, I won’t. Hatid na kita sa inyo. You can’t drive in this situation,” she said with conviction.

“No. Call Theo,” I insisted, pushing the words out between shallow breaths.

Theo was a doctor—he could help. He should help. And more importantly, he wasn’t Sylvia. Because if I stayed with Sylvia any longer, I might just die from a heart attack—not the illness.

Sylvia took out her phone and called him. After a short exchange, she passed it to me. I grabbed it quickly, relief washing over me.

“Can you please come to the University? I’m not feeling well, mahal,” I said, keeping my voice as weak and pitiful as possible for dramatic effect. He immediately agreed and said he was on his way. I ended the call without further conversation.

“You can go now. Thank you, by the way,” I told her, trying to sound casual and unbothered.

But she didn’t move. “No. I will wait until your ‘mahal’ arrives,” she said, her voice clipped with something sharp—bitterness?

I rolled my eyes—not because I was annoyed, but because I could sense it. She hated Theo. She didn’t even try to hide it. Did she know he was my boyfriend?

Sylvia supported me gently and helped me sit on a nearby bench. Her hands remained close, hovering slightly, as if afraid I’d collapse again.

“I'm okay. Stop looking at me,” I muttered, slightly embarrassed at how weak I looked in front of her.

"I'm not," she replied quickly, eyes darting away like she got caught.

I didn’t respond after that. Instead, I let the silence settle between us. The tension was still there, but so was… warmth. And the warmth was oddly comforting.

I didn’t even realize it happened until it already happened—I had dozed off on her shoulder.

The very shoulder I said I didn’t want to lean on.

And God, it was comfortable.

Too comfortable.

Her perfume smelled like soft vanilla and something nostalgic.

I could’ve stayed there forever—if only a certain someone didn’t ruin it.

“Thank you, kid. Ako nang bahala rito,” I heard Theo say as I stirred. Kid? Really? That’s my baby you’re calling a kid.

“Mahal, wake up. I’m here, uwi na tayo,” he said gently, and I acted like I had just woken up from a deep sleep. Time to put on my best actress face.

“Hmm…” I let out a sleepy sound as I blinked open my eyes and pretended to be surprised that I had fallen asleep on her shoulder. Which, by the way, I wasn’t even sorry for.

“Una na po ako, Ms. Sanchez. Pagaling ka,” Sylvia said all of a sudden, stepping away. Her voice was quiet, like she didn’t want to leave but knew she had to.

Why did Theo have to arrive so fast?! I didn’t even get to make proper time with her. Just my luck.

“Let’s go, mahal. I’ll hold you,” Theo said, wrapping an arm around me protectively.

I turned to look at him—mad, frustrated, and completely unsatisfied.

“Kalma. Masama pakiramdam mo, diba? Tara na. Next time na ang landi,” he said as he gently held my arm, guiding me toward the car.

I didn’t say anything at first, but as we walked slowly, a question burned in my chest more than the pain I was feeling. “Why did you call me mahal in front of her?” I asked quietly, my voice weak, but the curiosity laced with something deeper—something heavier.

Theo looked at me, not breaking his stride. “Because I’m your boyfriend. And she doesn’t remember you, right?” he said, his tone calm but deliberate. “Pero baka dahil dito, maalala ka na niya. Feelings are stronger than memories.”

That made me stop for a second. My brows furrowed. Was he trying to trigger her memory on purpose? Did he think this could actually work?

He opened the passenger door for me. I got in without saying another word and sank into the seat, leaning my head back against the headrest. I was still dizzy. Still weak. The air felt thick, and every breath I took felt like I was inhaling through a narrow straw.

Theo got into the driver’s seat and glanced at me with concern. “You look so pale. What happened? What do you feel?” he asked, adjusting the air-conditioning and mirrors before starting the engine.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, eyes still closed. “My chest’s been hurting since yesterday and I’m having a hard time breathing. But maybe it’s just because I have a cough.”

He didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched for a bit, and when I looked at him, his grip on the steering wheel had tightened.

“You need to rest first,” he finally said, his voice quieter this time, more serious. “And I’ll get you some tests tomorrow.”

That got my attention. I turned to look at him, confused. “What tests?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light, even though a sliver of fear slid into my stomach.

Instead of answering, he deflected. “Does your chest hurt that much?”

“Yeah… kinda,” I replied slowly. “Even when I’m just talking.”

He nodded to himself, jaw clenching. “We’ll have an imaging test and biopsies done tomorrow,” he said, and I swear my heart skipped a beat—not because of him, but because of what that could mean.

“What? Why do I need that? What’s happening, Theo?” I asked again, my voice rising slightly with anxiety.

“I’m not sure yet,” he answered honestly. “So I can’t say anything definite. But we’ll do the tests to make sure, okay?”

I didn’t respond right away. My chest tightened—not just physically, but emotionally too. There was something terrifying about not knowing. About waiting for answers when the questions themselves felt like a death sentence.

I finally just nodded. “Okay.”

After a moment of silence, he spoke again, changing the subject. “Is it still haunting you? How many times do you take your medicine?”

His voice was softer now, but the concern was real. Theo always knew how to ask things in a way that didn’t feel invasive, just gentle and warm.

“Hmm. Every night. Sometimes… 2–3 times,” I admitted, barely meeting his eyes.

He sighed heavily. “You know it’s bad to take that much. Please… try to overcome it. I’m here, okay? Just be strong.” He smiled slightly, trying to lift the mood. “Para makalandi ka na kay Sylvia.”

I rolled my eyes and let out a small laugh. Typical Theo. Always trying to break the tension with humor, even when the situation was grim. Still, I appreciated it. He was trying. He always did.

What happened in my family… still haunts me.

Even after all this time, I still carry that weight. The trauma. The memories. I try to smile, to laugh, to pretend like I’m okay. And on most days—I am. But there are moments, like today, where it all creeps back in. Quietly. Painfully.

I remember being seven years old and feeling like my entire world was falling apart. I remember hiding in corners, trying not to breathe too loudly. I remember thinking it was my fault. That I was the problem.

When I went to Paris, I thought I’d finally escaped it all. A new place. A new life. A chance to breathe. But I was wrong. It followed me. The panic attacks. The emptiness. There were nights I couldn’t sleep, nights I couldn’t even stand the sound of my own thoughts.

I almost lost myself again.

But Theo was there. He picked up the pieces I didn’t even know I had left. He never judged me, never left—just stood by me even when I was at my worst.

That’s the reason for the medicine. That’s why I carry it around everywhere like a second shadow. It’s not just for anxiety—it’s for survival.

I know it’s not healthy. I know I’m walking on a thin line between getting better and breaking again. But sometimes… sometimes I’m scared. Scared that one day, I won’t be able to hold on anymore. That I’ll disappear into the dark, and no one will know how to pull me out again.

Even now, when I’m with someone like Theo—someone safe—I still fear the worst.

Because when it comes to Sylvia… the way my heart reacts to her, it’s dangerous.

And I don’t know if it’s the kind of danger that will save me—or destroy me.

---

It’s been two weeks since the hospital visit. Two weeks of restless nights and quiet moments filled with overthinking. I’ll be seeing the test results later today, and I’ve been trying not to overthink—but failing miserably.

Right now, I’m fresh out of class. Ironically, it was with her. Sylvia. My brightest student, and my biggest headache.

She did incredibly well in her oral recitation, answering each question with ease and that effortless confidence she always carries like perfume—undeniable and intoxicating. I was proud. So proud it scared me. She’s really a genius. That’s why I like her. Maybe a little too much.

I was quietly packing my things, organizing the papers and tucking away my lesson plan into my folder, when suddenly—without warning—she appeared in front of me like a ghost who knew exactly when I let my guard down.

"Let me help you," she said, reaching forward and casually taking the stack of books and papers from my hands like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Oh God. My heart. Why does it do this every time she’s near?

"Why the hell do you keep bothering me, Gomez?" I asked, snapping slightly in my attempt to sound cold and annoyed, trying to keep my walls up. But deep inside, I swear, I was about to combust from how fast my heart was beating.

"Grabe ka, tinutulungan ka lang naman, Miss," she said with a dramatic little pout forming on her lips.

And—Jesus Christ—did she just pout? I could feel my soul leaving my body. She’s so freaking cute. This should be illegal.

"I don’t need your help, and stop pouting. You're not cute," I said, lying straight through my teeth.

She was so cute I felt like I was about to melt into a puddle of regrets and forbidden feelings right there in the middle of the hallway.

"You're harsh," she murmured, lips still curved down, pretending to be hurt.

Was I really that harsh?

"That's how I am when I don't like someone," I said stiffly.

That’s a lie, my mind screamed. That sentence needed rephrasing—what I really meant was

that’s how I am when I like someone way too much but can’t afford to show it.

"That sucks, because that won't stop me from liking you," she replied without missing a beat.

God. My heart stopped for a second. I wanted to believe her. I really did. But I had to remind myself—this is just a game to her. A twisted little flirtation she plays for fun, maybe just to get under my skin.

I swallowed my feelings, forcing a tight smile. “Quit acting like you like me,” I said, though every word stabbed me with how much I wished it wasn’t just acting.

"HM. I'm not acting, Miss," she replied softly, eyes never leaving mine.

I wish… I really wish that was true.

"Funny," I muttered, more to myself than to her. My brain was buzzing so loud, I didn’t even realize we had reached the faculty office already.

I had been so distracted talking to her, I’d walked the entire way without noticing. My heart was still racing, and my fingers had started to tremble from all the emotions I was trying to swallow back.

"Bye, Miss! I'll miss you!" she called out cheerfully, giving me a little wave as she turned to leave.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My lips parted slightly, but the words refused to come out.

I miss you always, idiot.

But I’ll never let her hear that.

I was about to head back inside the building, still feeling the flutter from Sylvia’s voice echoing in my chest, when I suddenly heard a familiar voice calling out to me.

“Cyn!” Theo’s voice rang out, loud and casual.

I turned around and saw him walking toward me, smiling like he wasn’t about to ruin my entire day.

“Oh?” I said, raising an eyebrow, keeping my tone flat. I didn’t have the energy for small talk.

“Luh? Ang sungit mo,” he teased, brushing it off like always. “By the way, can we talk outside? The result is out, mahal.”

I visibly flinched. “Why the hell do you keep calling—”

Before I could finish that thought, he suddenly tightened his hold on my wrist and leaned closer. “Hi, Athena!” he said, louder this time, with a practiced grin.

That’s when I noticed someone behind me. Athena. My eyes widened in realization. He was acting. Pretending, as always. Playing the role of the loving boyfriend.

“Hi,” Athena greeted, smiling at both of us. “Are you both going somewhere?”

“Yes. Lunch date,” I said quickly, keeping my voice light and controlled, nodding as if everything was perfectly normal.

She gave us a smile and a nod before heading the other way. As soon as she was out of earshot, Theo let out a breath and shook his head.

“Hindi ka talaga marunong umacting. Mabubuking talaga tayo wala sa oras,” he muttered, half amused, half frustrated.

I just rolled my eyes. “I didn’t know I’d be needing to perform today.”

We walked silently toward the outdoor benches. The sky was clear, birds chirping as if the world wasn’t about to shatter around me. When we reached a spot under the shade, Theo finally slowed down and turned to face me.

“So,” I said, crossing my arms. “What’s the result?”

He hesitated. That alone made my stomach twist. Theo was rarely serious—especially with me. But now, his brows furrowed and his usual playful expression faded.

“Don’t be shocked, okay?” he began gently. “You don’t need to panic or overthink. You’ll just need to take some medicine. A treatment plan. With regular meds, you’ll be okay after a while. I’ll provide your medica—”

“What do you mean?” I cut him off sharply. “What’s happening, Theo?”

He paused again, sighing deeply as if preparing for a long fall. “You have lung cancer,” he finally said. “The pain you felt two weeks ago—the tight chest, the difficulty breathing—those were early symptoms.”

I stood there frozen. My mind struggled to keep up with the words leaving his mouth. Lung cancer. The two words clanged inside my head like a broken bell.

He continued, his voice calm but serious.

“You developed it from secondhand smoke. You’ve been living with your Tita for years, right? All that time inhaling the smoke she puffed around the house—it finally took a toll on you. But Cynthia, listen to me carefully. It’s not advanced. It’s early. It’s not yet spreading aggressively. That’s good news. We caught it early. With consistent medication, you’ll be fine.”

My lips parted, but no words came out. All I could muster was a small, “Okay.”

Theo gave me a concerned look, clearly trying to read my face. “Don’t think about it too much. You’ll be okay, I promise,” he said softly.

I nodded mechanically, forcing my head to move even if the rest of me felt frozen. “Mhm. I’ll go back inside now,” I muttered.

He didn’t stop me. Just exhaled slowly and nodded as I turned away, walking back toward the building like my legs weren’t trembling.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t scream.

I didn’t even feel scared.

I just felt… hollow.

Maybe I should be sad. Or terrified. Maybe I should be angry, cursing the air I breathed in all those years, the choices made by others that affected me.

But I wasn’t. Instead, I felt strangely… relieved.

I never really wanted to live. Not truly. After everything I went through, after everything that haunted me since childhood, I only ever dreamed of disappearing. Quietly. Without fuss. Like a leaf that falls unnoticed from a tree.

But then, I met her.

She was the only reason I ever considered staying. Her presence alone pulled me from the shadows I had learned to call home. But she forgot me. And now… I don’t even know what I’m holding on for anymore.

Maybe this is fate’s way of giving me what I once asked for.

Maybe my dream of vanishing is finally coming true.

And I don’t know if I should be terrified—or thankful.

---

We were on the way again to another formal gathering—some social event filled with the same faces, the same shallow pleasantries, and the same exhausting expectations.

Honestly, I wasn’t even supposed to attend.

I had every intention of staying home and resting, especially with everything going on.

But as always, Theo insisted.

He said he needed me there.

I leaned back in the car seat, watching the city lights blur through the tinted windows. My head throbbed slightly, probably from exhaustion or maybe just from the thought of pretending again.

“Dapat pagpasok, smile ka ha. Act mode on muna,” Theo reminded me as he adjusted the collar of his coat, trying to look presentable.

I let out a deep sigh, not even attempting to hide the irritation in my tone. “Another act again. Great.”

The car stopped in front of the venue—a large, overly-decorated hall with chandeliers that looked like they were trying too hard to impress.

As we stepped out, the buzz of conversations and clinking glasses echoed in the background.

People turned toward the entrance, awaiting whoever the next guest was.

Then, suddenly, I heard the host's voice booming through the speakers.

“Let us all welcome Cynthia Lim Sevilla Sanchez! And beside her, none other than her love of the life, Theo Hensen Lui Ramero!”

I almost gagged. Love of my life? That was excessive. Overly theatrical. Utterly false.

Yuck.

But okay. Smile, Cynthia. Just smile.

The flashes of cameras greeted us like an ambush. I put on my best fake smile, the one that looked convincing enough in photos but felt like a heavy mask to wear.

And then… Theo extended his hand, expecting me to link my arm with his. I refused. Instead, he gently grabbed my wrist.

“Aray!” he hissed quietly. “’Wag mo 'kong kurutin. Hirap na hirap na nga ako sa pag-ngiti rito oh.”

I didn’t respond. I just rolled my eyes and smiled again for the camera, ignoring his complaints as we made our way through the crowd and to our assigned seats.

We sat down near the center of the room, where the noise was loudest, and the attention was hardest to escape.

The event dragged on the way I expected—unremarkable speeches, dull background music, and an unnecessarily expensive buffet.

I barely touched my plate, just pushing food around with my fork for the sake of appearance.

And then... I saw her.

Sylvia.

My breath caught the moment my eyes landed on her across the room.

She looked stunning.

It was her first time attending an event like this, and I hadn’t expected to see her here at all. My heart raced, pounding in my chest as if it had forgotten its rhythm.

I couldn’t look away. My eyes kept drifting toward her, stealing glances whenever I thought no one was looking.

But then—she looked at me.

Our eyes met, and it felt like everything else in the room disappeared for a brief second.

I froze.

My lips twitched into a small, involuntary smile.

She didn’t look away either.

She kept looking.

I wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but the softness in her eyes told me she wasn’t just looking—she was seeing me.

I couldn’t help it.

"Ngiting-ngiti ah," Theo suddenly whispered beside me, leaning closer with an amused smirk.

I quickly snapped out of it and looked away, my cheeks heating up. "Shut up," I muttered under my breath.

How could I not smile? She was looking at me like that—as if she remembered everything.

As if I was still someone special.

Small things. Always the small things with her. They’re the ones that break me the most.

And then, as if the universe wanted to stir even more chaos into the night, the MC suddenly took the stage again with renewed enthusiasm and announced something.

"Okay, any volunteers to sing on stage for this wonderful night?" The MC’s voice boomed over the speakers, echoing through the venue.

I sighed, already bracing myself for the inevitable. But then, out of nowhere, I saw Theo stand up. My eyes widened in disbelief.

Oh lord, why?

Please, I need headphones to block this out.

I really don’t want to hear him sing.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so annoyed by someone’s voice in my life—especially when he sings like he’s performing at a church choir or something, belting out the words as though he’s the star of a musical.

"Alright, let’s give a round of applause to Sir Theo from the Ramero family!" the MC announced, and of course, the crowd clapped—most likely because they had no idea what they were in for.

Theo, with his usual exaggerated confidence, took a bow and strutted his way to the stage. I could already hear his voice rising over the music, taking center stage like he was born to perform.

He grabbed the microphone, and with a grin that screamed too proud for his own good, he said, "This song is for my one and only, Cynthia."

I nearly choked on my own breath. What?

I couldn't help but cringe. I wanted to tell him to just stop, but this was all part of the act, wasn’t it? He was putting on a show, and I had to go along with it for the sake of appearances. Still, every word that came out of his mouth felt like nails on a chalkboard to me.

Theo started singing, or more accurately, belting out the lyrics like a kettle boiling over.

Honestly, he sounded more like he was being tortured than serenading me.

But I kept my face locked in that fake, perfect smile because a lot of people were watching us.

And I knew better than to make a scene.

The crowd clapped along, some of them actually enjoying the performance. As I stood there, trying not to roll my eyes, Theo suddenly stretched out his hand to me, inviting me to the stage.

Oh no. Was he seriously doing this?

The crowd began cheering loudly, their claps and shouts echoing in my ears. I couldn’t say no—not with everyone watching. So, I reluctantly stood up and walked to the stage, my heart pounding against my chest, betraying the calm face I was trying to put on.

Theo grinned like an idiot as he grabbed my hand, pulling me into the spotlight. He kissed my hand like I was some delicate princess, and I fought every urge in me to pull away.

Yuck.

The whole thing was absurd. It felt so forced, so fake, like something out of a bad rom-com. But I played along because, at this point, I had no other choice. I couldn’t stop him now.

I glanced around, forcing my eyes to stay on the crowd, but deep down, I just wanted this to end.

And then, Theo did something I definitely wasn’t expecting.

He leaned in, tilting his head as though he was going to kiss me—acting like he was about to seal the performance with the kind of dramatic gesture you’d see in a soap opera. My eyes widened, and I held my breath, waiting for him to pull back.

Thankfully, he did. But just as I thought the ordeal was over, Theo finished the song with a flourish, and the crowd erupted in applause. I felt my heart sink as I turned my gaze to where Sylvia had been sitting earlier.

She wasn’t there anymore.

She was gone.

My stomach twisted, my smile faltering slightly as I scanned the room for her. My eyes quickly spotted her walking toward the exit.

Did she… did she leave because of me? Because of what Theo just did?

I felt a wave of guilt rush over me. Did I hurt her? Was she upset? I couldn’t focus on anything else for a moment. All I could think about was Sylvia walking out of the room, away from me.

The applause continued around us as Theo’s family cheered and clapped, congratulating us on our performance. I felt completely numb. My lips smiled mechanically, but deep down, I was struggling to keep it together.

"Theo, I'll just go to the restroom," I said, trying to sound as casual as possible. He gave me a knowing smile, nodding in response.

I could feel the weight of his gaze on me as I turned to walk away, but I wasn't heading to the restroom. I had a different plan in mind. Sylvia had left the event early, and I needed to find her.

I knew exactly where she would be—there was a bar not too far from the venue, a place where she liked to retreat when things got overwhelming.

My heart raced as I made my way to the parking lot, the cold night air hitting me in the face like a sharp reminder of everything that had been building up inside me.

I drove as quickly as I could, but the city’s usual traffic was a nightmare.

I could feel every minute slipping away as I sat in my car, watching the clock tick by.

It wasn’t until I pulled into the parking lot that I realized I had arrived later than I had hoped.

Sylvia could have already left by now, or worse, maybe she was with someone else.

I parked my car and quickly stepped out, trying to keep my composure. The neon lights of the bar flickered above me, and the low hum of music and chatter spilled out from the entrance. My chest tightened as I pushed through the door, my eyes scanning the dimly lit room.

The place was a little quieter than usual, just a few patrons scattered around, some deep in conversation, others lost in their own thoughts. And then, I saw her.

Sylvia was sitting at the far end of the bar, her back slightly hunched as she sipped on her drink.

Her hair fell over her shoulders, and there was something about the way she was sitting there, almost detached from everything around her, that made my heart ache.

She looked…

vulnerable, lost in her own thoughts.

I knew that look.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I pushed past the crowd and made my way towards her. Every step felt like it was taking me closer to something I wasn’t sure I was ready for. But I had to do this. I couldn’t just let her slip away.

When I finally reached her, I paused for a moment, unsure of how to approach. She was staring into her glass, and for a moment, I wondered if she had noticed me. But before I could say anything, her eyes slowly lifted, and she met my gaze.

"Gomez, that's enough. Let's go home. Your sister sent me," I said, trying to sound calm, but the lie slipped easily from my lips.

She scoffed, smirking at me before responding with an edge in her voice. "Stop pretending you care. Let me go."

I could feel the stress building in my chest. The way she was looking at me, the way she was acting—drunk, reckless—it was driving me crazy. Did she really think I was just going to leave her here like this?

"Gomez, don't make me repeat myself," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

I couldn’t stand the thought of her making a scene, or worse—doing something reckless here. Was she planning to act on some kind of impulse, like she had before?

She raised a brow and leaned back slightly in her seat, clearly challenging me. "And what if I don’t want to? What will you do, Miss? Hmm?"

I sighed, trying to hide my frustration. She was clearly intoxicated, and her stubbornness wasn’t helping either. "Let’s go. Stop being stubborn," I said, reaching out to take her hands in mine.

"I'm going crazy because of you," she said softly, almost as if it were a confession, but I couldn’t tell if it was just the alcohol talking or something deeper.

I blinked, trying to process her words. She’s going crazy because of me? Well, I’d been crazy because of her long before now. That much I knew. But hearing it from her... It didn’t make sense.

"You're talking nonsense. Please, let’s go," I said, trying to soften my tone.

I wasn’t angry, not really. I just didn’t know how to deal with her when she was like this—drunk, vulnerable, and pulling me in two different directions. I just wanted to hold her, to tell her everything I was feeling, but I couldn’t. Not here. Not like this.

"I don’t want to, Miss," she said stubbornly, her voice thick with emotion.

She was so stubborn, just like always, but there was something different about the way she said it this time. It hurt a little, even though I knew she didn’t mean it the way it sounded.

I sighed heavily, frustrated and confused. "Fine. Go home by yourself. I don’t care," I said, trying to sound indifferent.

But, of course, I wasn’t going to leave her here alone. I was only acting out of frustration. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t just walk away from her, even if I wanted to.

But just when I thought I could turn and leave, she grabbed me, pulling me closer with unexpected strength. I froze, shocked by the sudden movement. I didn’t expect her to do that, not at all.

"What the—" I began to protest, but she cut me off by pulling me into a kiss.

My heart leapt in my chest, and instinctively, I pushed her away. "G-Gomez, s-stop, p-please," I stammered. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t feel this way, but her lips—her kiss—was like alcohol itself. It was intoxicating. My heart was pounding, and I could barely think straight.

But she didn’t stop. She kissed me again, and everything inside me screamed to pull away, to do the right thing, but I couldn’t. I wanted her so badly, my breath quickening with every touch.

Then, in a moment of panic, I slapped her.

I didn’t know why I did it. My mind was racing, and I was trying to regain control of the situation, to pull myself together. But it wasn’t out of anger or frustration. No, it was because I couldn’t breathe, because my heart was racing so fast that I couldn’t think straight. Why did I slap her?

"I-I hate you! You know I have a boyfriend, Gomez. I won’t forgive you!" I shouted, my voice trembling. I had to act. I had to keep my composure, even though everything inside me was falling apart.

I slapped her again, and this time, it was worse.

I could feel the weight of it as soon as it happened, and I regretted it immediately.

Why did I slap her again?

Ugh, what was wrong with me?

I was acting out of panic, out of desire.

It wasn’t frustration.

It was something else entirely—something I couldn’t control.

I turned and walked outside, my heart still pounding in my chest. She kissed me. Sylvia kissed me. The realization hit me like a wave, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had to act normal. I had to push the feelings away, but I couldn’t.

---

I was sitting alone in the faculty room, staring blankly at the stack of papers in front of me.

My friends had classes, and I was stuck here doing some work that I knew I’d never finish before the day ended.

I was on my third cup of coffee, trying to keep my eyes open, when the door suddenly creaked open.

I didn't expect anyone, so I quickly turned my head to see who it was.

And there she was.

Sylvia.

What was she doing here?

My mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation.

But I kept my face blank, pretending I didn’t see her.

I didn't want to make it obvious that my heart was pounding in my chest just because she walked in. I tried to focus on my papers again, but I could feel her presence as she took a step closer to where I was sitting. Her footsteps echoed in the otherwise quiet room, and before I knew it, she was right beside me.

"I'm sorry," she said, and I could feel her standing just a few inches away from me. I didn’t look up. “I know I was wrong last night, and I deserve that slap. Alam kong mali ako doon. I should have controlled myself, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

Her voice trembled, and I was tempted to glance at her, but I refused. I wasn’t going to let her see how much I was affected by this. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that her words were making my heart race even more.

“I know sorry isn’t enough, but gosh, how could I not kiss you when your lips were right there, tempting me?”

Tempting her?

I was trying my best not to react. I didn't want to seem like I cared, even though deep down, I really did. I liked that kiss. I liked it more than I should’ve. But I had to act like I was unaffected.

I stayed silent, my eyes still on my papers, trying to pretend I wasn’t dying inside. I was so good at pretending.

“Sorry… I won’t do it again without your permission. It was my fault, and I truly regret it. I’m not expecting you to forgive me, but please, just know that I really mean it. I’m sorry.”

She was really apologizing, wasn’t she? I could tell she was sincere, but for some reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to say anything. What did I want from her? What was I even expecting? Her apology? No. I wanted more. But I wasn't going to admit that to myself, not now, not ever.

I was too busy convincing myself to ignore her when she suddenly spoke again, her voice softer this time.

"Btw, I baked this cake for you."

Wait, what?

"I know I’m not good at cooking, but I tried. Para sa’yo." She held up a small box in her hands, looking at me with those big, expectant eyes, and I... just... stared at her. “It took me almost three hours, gosh. But it was worth it if it means you’d accept it.”

She... baked me a cake? She was standing there, looking so serious about it, and all I could do was stare. I couldn’t process it. Sylvia baked me a cake?

I was too overwhelmed by the thought of her actually doing something sweet like that. Why? Why would she do something like that for me? Was this a joke? My mind couldn't keep up with her actions, and then, before I could stop her, she placed the cake on my table.

The moment I saw the cake, my stomach flipped. It looked... cute, sure, but—wait, was that—?

Oh my God, no.

There was a frog on top of the cake. A frog. Why in the world would she put a frog on the cake? Did she know? Did she not realize that I—no, this couldn’t be happening. Why would she even make a frog? I froze.

My heart was racing, and panic started to flood my mind. I hated frogs. I hated them with a passion. I couldn’t even look at them. And here she was, putting one on a cake for me? My stomach turned as I stared at it. I didn’t even want to touch the cake now.

I couldn’t breathe. I could feel my hands start to shake, and my pulse was hammering in my ears. Was she trying to kill me or something? How could she do this to me? Was she trying to torture me? Was this a prank? I push the cake into the trash bin.

I glared at her, trying to control my emotions. “Get out, Gomez,” I said, my voice tight, forcing myself to sound more composed than I felt. "I don’t care about whatever you made or did. Get out of my face.”

I didn’t want to hear her anymore. I didn’t want her to see me freaking out, but I couldn’t just let it go. That frog was ruining everything.

I heard the soft click of the door as she left the room, but I didn’t dare turn around. I just stood there, glaring at the cake in front of me.

She was gone. I was alone again.

The tension in my body started to melt away, and a heavy sigh escaped my lips. I turned my gaze back to the cake... and there it was. Still sitting there, the frog glaring up at me from its sugary perch.

But then...

Wait.

What?

I squinted at the frog. It looked... fake? I leaned in closer, blinking in disbelief. I grabbed the cake and slowly inspected it, feeling like a fool.

It wasn’t a real frog. It was just a design. A cake decoration.

Oh my God, I am such an idiot.

I stood there, staring at it, utterly mortified. The frog was just a cute little icing design. I couldn’t believe I thought it was real. My mind had completely short-circuited. I had freaked out over a piece of cake decoration.

Still, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at myself for overreacting so badly. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. The cake... it didn’t look so bad now.

With one last glance at the door, I grabbed the cake and sat back down. I broke off a piece, my face still flushed from embarrassment, and popped it in my mouth.

Surprisingly... it wasn’t bad. Actually, it was pretty good.

What the hell. I stared at the cake, still a little disoriented. Sylvia... can’t cook, but... this isn’t terrible.

I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the sweet, soft texture. Despite the ridiculousness of it all, I couldn’t help but feel a little... thankful.

"Thank you, I appreciate it." I whispered softly to myself, a small, sincere smile forming on my lips as I took another bite.

Even if I had almost lost my mind over a stupid frog design.