You're Making Me Crazy, Professor

Chapter 68

I stood there in the corner of the venue, barely blinking, just watching her.

She was laughing-talking to other people like she owned the place. And maybe she did. She carried herself with the same grace and confidence I used to know so well. She looked beautiful, as always. Timeless, magnetic... untouchable.

What I didn't expect--what hit me like a punch in the gut--was that she's the CEO of Solina Company. Solina. My biggest rival. The company I've been up against.

And it's her.

My throat tightened. My pulse drummed in my ears. I wanted to look away, pretend I didn't care, but my eyes refused to leave her. I was frozen in place, heart in pieces, and all I could think was:

I am willing to surrender.

For her, I would throw the white flag.

I wanted nothing more than to walk up to her, pull her into my arms, and bury my face in the crook of her neck. To tell her how much I missed her. How every night, I dreamed of this moment--of us. Of going back. Of rewriting everything.

But I couldn't. Because she surely hates me now. After what I did? After how I left things?

Who wouldn't hate me?

I clenched my jaw and looked away, biting back the ache rising in my chest. My fingers curled tightly around my clutch as if it could somehow keep me grounded.

Then Theo leaned in beside me, his voice low, as if he'd just revealed the twist of a movie he'd been waiting for me to watch.

"Told you it would be worth it," he whispered, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips-like he planned this all along.

I blinked and turned to him, my voice sharp but hushed. "You knew?"

He raised a brow like it was obvious.

Theo just smirked, folding his arms across his chest like he'd just won a bet. "Yes. May nagsabi sa'kin," he said casually, like it was no big deal.

I stepped closer, tension rising in my chest. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Cynthia," he said, arching an eyebrow, "kung sinabi ko, pupunta ka pa ba talaga?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Because the truth was, I probably wouldn't have. I would've made an excuse, walked away, protected myself from the pain of seeing her again. But now that I was here... now that I saw her...

All I wanted was to feel her arms around me again.

But that was a fantasy I no longer deserved.

She was talking to her team a few feet away, poised and confident. Her hair was longer now. Her makeup was sharper. She didn't look like the Sylvia who used to wake me up with kisses on my forehead and sleep in my oversized hoodies.

She looked like someone who had moved on.

I hated how beautiful she still was.

"She looks... happy," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

Theo glanced at her, then back at me. "Masaya nga ba talaga 'yan? Cynthia, hindi mo alam kung ilang gabi siyang umiiyak. Ilang beses niyang binura 'yung message na dapat isesend sa'yo. Hindi mo nakita 'yun."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Stop."

"Naghabol siya, Cynthia," Theo continued, quieter this time. "She keeps begging and begging."

I blinked fast, forcing the tears back. "That's not fair."

He shrugged. "Neither was what you did."

The room felt colder now, even though I was sweating. My palms were clammy. My heart was loud--too loud. I hated how his words sunk in. I hated how they were true.

"Do you think..." I hesitated, eyes fixed on her, "Do you think she'd even talk to me?"

Theo tilted his head. "Hindi ko alam. Pero may tanong ako. Gusto mo pa ba siya?"

My silence was enough of an answer.

"Then why are you just standing here?" he asked.

Because I'm a coward. Because I hurt her.

Because I don't deserve her anymore.

"I miss her," I said softly. My voice cracked. "I miss her so much I don't know how I'm still standing here."

"Then go. Bago ka maunahan."

I forced myself to look at her again.

And this time... she looked back.

Her eyes met mine.

I froze. Everything--the noise, the people, the world--faded into a blur.

It was just her and me. Just like before.

But her eyes... they weren't the same.

They didn't soften like they used to. They didn't light up.

They just... looked. Cold. Distant.

She blinked slowly.

And then she turned away.

Just like that.

I felt something crack inside me.

"I told you," I whispered. "She hates me."

Theo looked at me, quiet now. "Maybe. Maybe not. Pero kung 'yan ang paniniwala mo, then you'll lose her for good. Choice mo 'yan."

I stared at the ground, swallowing the lump in my throat. My fists were clenched so tightly, my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to run to her. Apologize. Tell her everything. That I never stopped loving her. That I left because I was dying inside, not because I didn't care.

But how do you even begin to explain that? How do you walk up to the love of your life after tearing her heart apart and expect her to listen?

"I don't think I can do this," I said.

Theo shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "Then that's on you."

Alone in a room full of people, with the one person I wanted most in the world standing just a few feet away... but feeling a thousand miles out of reach.

I stayed frozen for a while. Like if I moved, I'd break.

People kept moving around me--laughing, networking, sipping champagne like it was any other Friday night. But I couldn't breathe properly. The air in the room felt thinner since I saw her. Since she looked away.

What the hell am I still doing here?

I turned and walked away, quickly-before anyone else could see the water forming in my eyes. I didn't know where I was going until I found myself in front of the drink table. A long, elegant row of wine, champagne, whiskey-choices I didn't care about.

I grabbed the nearest glass of alcohol, something amber-colored and probably expensive, and drank. Fast.

It burned my throat, but not enough.

I reached for another.

Second sip, slower.

Third one, even slower. I closed my eyes.

Damn it, Cynthia. You promised yourself you were over her.

I leaned against the wall, my head tipping back, staring at the chandelier above. It looked like stars. Like the ones we used to watch together at 2 AM. She hated the cold, but she'd always sit beside me, her hands wrapped around my arm like she didn't need a jacket as long as she had me.

She had me. And I had her.

And then I left.

I downed the rest of the drink. I didn't even taste it anymore. I just needed something to dull the ache.

But then I heard it--her voice. Laughing.

I turned. Instinct. Reflex. Addiction.

Sylvia was on the other side of the room now, walking toward me with someone.

A girl.

She was laughing too--laughing at something Sylvia said.

And Sylvia was smiling.

The smile. That smile. The one she used to give me when I'd pull her close and kiss her nose. The one that meant she was safe. The one that meant she was home.

She was smiling like that at someone else now.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard.

The girl leaned in to whisper something in Sylvia's ear, and Sylvia laughed again, tilting her head.

It was like watching a slow, silent movie where the only thing louder than the scene was the sound of my heart cracking.

I looked away.

I hated this. I hated how bitter I felt. I hated how my jealousy was ugly and loud and pathetic.

I told myself I wanted her to be happy.

But I didn't think she'd be happy without me.

I set my empty glass down, fingers trembling slightly. I told myself I wouldn't cry.

And maybe I wouldn't.

But damn it, it burned. Not just the alcohol.

Her.

Sylvia burned in every corner of my chest.

And now... someone else was holding the match.

"Cynthia?" someone called out behind me, but I ignored it. Just background noise. Laughter, footsteps, clinking glasses. Nothing mattered.

Until I heard her voice again.

"I think I'll get a drink too," Sylvia said, closer this time.

I froze.

No. Please, not here. Not now.

I didn't dare look up. I didn't dare turn. My hand tightened around the edge of the bar as if I could disappear into it. My heart was pounding like it was trying to escape.

She was coming this way.

I could feel her.

And then--

She was beside me.

Sylvia. Right there. Just inches away.

I caught a glimpse of her perfume before anything else. Still the same. Warm, subtle, familiar. I hated how I noticed. I hated how my body still remembered her.

I glanced sideways--just a glance--and saw her laugh at something the girl in the red dress said. She was so close, I could see the small gold earrings she wore, the gloss on her lips, the faint dimple that only appeared when she was really amused.

"I'll take this," she told the bartender, then turned to the girl beside her. "You want the same, or something stronger?"

The girl smiled. "Stronger. I can handle it."

Sylvia laughed, amused. "Bold."

My stomach twisted.

That used to be me.

I took a quiet breath, trying to ground myself.

But then Sylvia looked--just slightly--to the side. Her eyes flicked toward me. Just a flicker.

And then... they lingered.

Our eyes met.

For a second.

A second too long.

She blinked. Something unreadable passed through her expression-surprise? Caution?

But then, just like that, she turned back to the girl and smiled again like nothing happened.

And I stood there, holding my jealousy like a drink I couldn't put down.

I felt exposed. Like I was standing naked in the middle of a room full of strangers.

I forced a smile, fake and thin, and muttered, "Another one, please," to the bartender.

He poured me a drink without a word. I didn't care what it was.

I raised the glass to my lips, swallowing the bitterness that had nothing to do with alcohol.

So this is how it feels--to watch the love of your life move on... while you're still stuck in yesterday.

And God, it did hurt.

The clinking of glasses, low jazz music, and idle conversations buzzed around me, but all I could hear was Sylvia's voice-steady, elegant, close enough to touch.

I didn't dare move. I just stared into my drink, pretending I wasn't eavesdropping on every damn word.

The girl beside her laughed softly, a delicate, flirtatious sound that grated against my nerves. She brushed a hand through her sleek, dark hair, leaning in just a little too close to Sylvia.

"So... are you single?" she asked, her voice light and sugary, but the question was anything but innocent.

I didn't dare look up. I kept my gaze locked on the table, pretending to be absorbed in the rim of my wine glass, but my entire body tensed. My pulse spiked. My jaw tightened so hard it ached.

Sylvia didn't answer immediately.

She reached for her glass, her movements fluid, composed, elegant-just like always. She brought it to her lips, took a slow, unbothered sip, then placed it back down with a soft clink.

Then she spoke, her eyes fixed straight ahead, calm and unfazed. Her voice was gentle, but confident--like she wasn't just stating a fact, but claiming something that was already hers.

"No," she said softly. "I have a girlfriend. No... let's say future wife, actually."

The words hit me harder than the alcohol burning in my throat.

I froze.

Everything around me faded-the soft chatter, the clinking of silverware, the distant music-all of it dissolved into static. Her words echoed in my head like a haunting melody stuck on repeat.

No. I have a girlfriend. No... let's say future wife, actually.

The girl beside her let out a light, surprised laugh. "Really?" she said, trying to keep her tone playful. "Well... lucky her."

Sylvia smiled then. Not forced. Not polite. But real.

"No," she said with quiet certainty. "I'm the lucky one."

My grip on the stem of my wine glass tightened. My knuckles turned white from how hard I was holding it, as if it were the only thing anchoring me to the moment.

She has a girlfriend.

She's in love.

She's happy.

She already moved on.

And she's not mine anymore.

I should be happy, right? I should be glad she found someone who makes her feel like that. Someone who brings that kind of smile to her face. Someone who gets to be the one she calls her future wife.

But damn it...

It's killing me.

Because that smile used to be mine. Those words... that certainty... used to be meant for me.

And now I'm just a ghost at the edge of her world-watching, aching, pretending like it doesn't matter.

But it does.

More than I'll ever admit.

I kept my face still, but inside, everything cracked.

The girl leaned in, undeterred. "So, how long have you been together?"

Sylvia tilted her head, thoughtful. "Long enough to know she's the one."

My breath caught.

The girl laughed. "Wow. You're serious about her, huh?"

"I don't waste time," Sylvia replied. Calm. Cool. Like she didn't just set my entire chest on fire.

The girl raised her glass. "Well, here's to your lucky girlfriend."

Sylvia clinked her glass against hers. "Cheers."

I couldn't take it anymore.

I turned slightly, just enough to glance at Sylvia from the corner of my eye. Her profile was calm, perfectly composed.

She didn't even flinch when I looked at her.

Like I really was just a stranger now.

Just another guest at a party.

And yet... she still hadn't walked away.

She knew I was beside her. Every word she said--she wanted me to hear it.

And God, it was working.

I was burning.

Not just with jealousy.

With regret.

With the awful, aching realization that she might actually be seeing someone.

That maybe... I was too late.

I swallowed hard, trying to look unfazed, but inside?

I was unraveling.

The event host stepped onto the stage, his voice carrying across the room with charm and elegance.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced with a grin, his tone smooth and confident, "the dance floor is now open. Let's make tonight unforgettable. Grab your partners and let the rhythm take over."

The crowd responded with excited murmurs and soft applause, the energy in the room shifting as guests began to make their way to the center. Silk gowns swished, tuxedos sparkled under the lights, and every step felt like part of a grand waltz.

I stood by the edge of the crowd, my fingers wrapped around the stem of my glass, trying to swallow the suffocating tightness in my chest. The world around me seemed distant, muffled, as my gaze kept flicking to the same place: Sylvia.

She stood not too far from me, laughing softly with the girl in red. Her beauty, as always, was undeniable, but it was the way she carried herself that twisted something deep inside me.

I couldn't look away.

She was still the one who held my attention, even though she didn't notice me anymore. At least, that's what I told myself.

I took another sip of my drink, trying to keep my composure, to fight the chaos threatening to spill over.

Then, suddenly, someone was standing in front of me.

"Excuse me," a soft voice said, interrupting my thoughts.

I turned to see a tall woman standing before me. She was elegant, her navy-blue silk dress catching the light as she smiled confidently. Her eyes, sharp and dark, locked onto mine with a certain intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

"I couldn't help but notice you standing here," she said with a light chuckle. "You look like someone who's too good for this event. Mind if I steal you for a dance?"

I blinked. "Me?"

She smiled wider, a playful edge to her voice. "Yes, you. Unless... your boyfriend will mind?"

I glanced quickly over to Sylvia, who was still engaged in conversation with the girl in red. Sylvia's posture remained as perfect as ever, but her eyes-her eyes were empty of me.

"No," I said softly, then added with a tiny, bittersweet smile, "I don't have a boyfriend."

The girl's smile deepened as she held out her hand. "Then come on, let's make this a night to remember."

I didn't even think about it. Without another word, I placed my hand in hers.

The moment the girl in navy extended her hand toward me, my chest tightened. My fingers brushed against hers, the anticipation of the dance starting to buzz in the air around us.

But before I could take another step, a voice-so familiar, so sharp-cut through the moment like a blade.

"Stop."

I froze.

I knew that voice. And the way it cracked through the noise of the room made my heart skip a beat.

I turned, my body instinctively pulling away from the girl in blue.

There she was--Sylvia. Standing a few feet away, her eyes locked onto me with a cold fire I hadn't seen in a long time. Her posture was rigid, controlled, but the tension in the air between us was palpable, thick enough to choke.

For a moment, I couldn't speak. I couldn't even think.

Sylvia stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply on the floor as she walked toward me, her gaze never leaving mine. The girl in blue beside me shifted uncomfortably, but Sylvia didn't seem to care. She was focused, and she was glaring straight at me, her face unreadable.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she reached out and placed a hand on my wrist-soft, but firm.

"She doesn't have a boyfriend," Sylvia said, her voice low, but there was a hint of something dangerous in it. "But she has a wife. Future wife. And that's me."

I couldn't breathe.

My heart hammered in my chest, every beat like a loud echo in the space between us. The room felt smaller now-too small for the weight of those words. Sylvia's words.

"How could you forget that, love?" she continued, the words biting with a strange mix of bitterness and something else I couldn't quite place. "How could you forget me?"

I stood there, completely shocked, unable to form a coherent thought. I hadn't expected this--didn't even know how to respond. The girl beside me stood frozen, her expression shifting from confusion to concern.

But I didn't care about her right now. I couldn't focus on anything except Sylvia.

Her eyes, usually so composed, were raw now.

Her jaw clenched, her fingers tightening on my wrist. It was as if she was holding me in place, forcing me to face her, forcing me to remember everything we once were.

And yet, all I could think was, Wife?

Sylvia didn't wait for an answer. She just turned her gaze to the girl in blue, who was standing awkwardly beside me.

"If you're hoping for a dance with her," Sylvia said, her tone cutting through the air like ice, "You'll have to wait your turn. Oh, sorry. I mean you'll never have your turn. Because my girl. . is only made for me."

There was a moment of stunned silence. The girl didn't say a word, just gave a nod, her face reddening slightly. She stepped back, hesitated, then turned and walked away.

I didn't know whether to feel relieved or mortified. My chest felt tight, like all the air had been sucked out of the room, and Sylvia's gaze was still locked on me, unforgiving, intense.

"Sylvia. . ." I said, but she didn't answer and hold my wrist.

She dragged me into the back room where the dressing room was located and it was only the two of us. My heart was beating faster, and I really can't process anything.

"I-i'm sorry." I whisper. But she pushed me gently into the wall, her body close to me and her hand carelessly touching my cheeks gently.

"Shh, it's okay." she started and I was confused. "I know everything, Cynthia. Ate told me. I'm sorry, for not being there where you needed me the most."

My mind raced, heart pounding in my ears as I tried to process her words, but all I could focus on was the way she stood so close to me, her body radiating heat.

The touch of her fingers on my cheek felt like a burn against my skin, but it wasn't painful--it was something else. Something familiar, something dangerous.

Her words were soft, almost too soft, and they caught me off guard. Athena told her?

I couldn't even look at her. My eyes drifted down, my gaze meeting the floor as I tried to gather myself. I didn't expect this. Didn't expect her to know. My throat tightened, and before I could stop myself, a breathless laugh escaped my lips, bitter and self-deprecating.

"Athena... told you?" I whispered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "What did she tell you, Sylvia? Everything? The truth?"

Sylvia's hand remained on my cheek, her thumb brushing gently over my skin in a way that both soothed and unsettled me. I could feel the tension in her fingers, the unspoken pain she was holding back, and I hated myself for it.

"I wish she had," Sylvia replied, her voice carrying an undercurrent of raw emotion. Her gaze dropped to my lips, and for a split second, I thought she might kiss me. But she didn't. Instead, she exhaled sharply, as if the weight of the moment had just hit her.

"I wish she had told me earlier, Cynthia," she continued, her voice breaking on my name. "I wish you had told me. I would've been there. For you. For all of it." She took a step back, breaking the contact, but it didn't ease the heaviness in the air. If anything, it made it worse.

I looked at her then, finally meeting her eyes, and saw the vulnerability in them-something raw, something desperate. "I couldn't," I whispered. "I didn't want you to know. I didn't want you to pity me."

"You think I'd pity you?" Sylvia's voice was a low, dangerous whisper, her eyes narrowing, the fire in them flickering dangerously. She stepped forward again, closing the space between us. "You think I'd just pity you, after everything?"

I shook my head, unable to answer. The words were caught in my throat, lodged there like stones. She was too close. Too close, and yet I felt like I couldn't escape her. Like she was pulling me into a world of things I wasn't sure I could face.

"I was scared," I admitted, the words coming out in a rush, before I could stop them. "I was scared, Sylvia. Scared of losing you. Of you hating me. Of you leaving."

For a moment, I saw something flicker in Sylvia's eyes. It wasn't anger, though it had been there before. It wasn't even sadness. It was something deeper, more painful.

"You think I'd leave you over something like that?" she asked, her voice so quiet it almost felt like a plea. "You think I could ever leave you?"

I couldn't answer. The room felt suffocating, too small for the emotions swirling between us. My chest tightened again, and before I knew it, my hands were gripping her shoulders, pulling her closer, needing the closeness. Needing her.

"Tell me you still want me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Tell me you still love me."

I didn't answer her.

Words felt too small, too weak to carry the weight of everything I wanted to say. So instead, I reached for her--my heart pounding, breath trembling--and kissed her.

At first, she didn't respond.

She stayed still, caught in the moment, her lips frozen beneath mine. For a second, panic flared inside me. Maybe I had crossed a line. Maybe I'd misread everything. Maybe this was a mistake.

But then... she kissed me back.

Softly, hesitantly at first-like she was testing the waters of something long buried. And then with more urgency. More hunger. As if the dam we had both built between us was finally cracking open.

Our kiss deepened, all unspoken pain and longing poured into that moment. I pulled her closer--arms wrapping tightly around her like I was afraid she'd vanish if I let go. She pressed into me, fingers clutching at my shirt like she was holding on just as desperately.

It was messy and aching and tender all at once.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless, chests rising and falling fast. Her eyes found mine-wide, glassy, searching. Neither of us said anything at first. The silence between us was loud, crackling with every emotion we had spent so long trying to hide.

Then I spoke, my voice raw and unsteady.

"I never stopped loving you," I whispered, as if the truth would shatter if I said it too loudly.

Her lips parted slightly in surprise--but then she smiled.

A smiled that I was longing to see for a long time.

A soft, sad, beautiful smile that made my heart ache and swell all at once.

Like she'd been waiting to hear those words for far too long.

Sylvia looked at me, her expression softening as her gaze dropped to my lips.

The silence between us felt heavier, but there was something comforting in it-something raw.

Then she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, but it cut through the air like it had been waiting to break free for so long.

"I missed you so much, Cynthia," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

"More than I can even put into words. Every damn day. I kept thinking about you--about us--wondering why everything had to fall apart like it did. I was angry, confused, but mostly, I just missed you. I missed the way things used to be."

Her fingers gently touched my cheek, her hand trembling just slightly.

"But you have to know that even then, even when it felt like everything between us was broken, I never stopped loving you. Not once. I couldn't. Every single day, you were there, in my thoughts, in my heart. I hated myself for what happened, but I never stopped wanting you. Never stopped needing you."

Her eyes were searching mine now, full of so many emotions I didn't know how to process. Pain, regret, longing. But most of all, I saw the love--the same love that had always been there, even when we were apart.

"I tried to move on," Sylvia continued, her voice growing quieter.

"I tried to convince myself that I could forget about you, that I could live without you. But I couldn't. I'm sorry, Cynthia. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the time I wasted, for not being there when you needed me. But no matter what happened, no matter how far apart we were, I never stopped loving you."

Her hand found its way to the back of my neck, pulling me gently toward her. "I never stopped, and I never will."

The weight of her words hung in the air, and for a moment, I could barely breathe. The truth of it all-the pain, the love, the broken pieces-suddenly felt too much to carry, yet it was exactly what I needed to hear.

Sylvia had always been the one who held me together, and now, she was here again. With me.

"You don't have to say anything," she whispered softly, her voice calm and gentle, as if trying to reassure me. "I can wait. Don't force yourself. As long as you're here beside me, that's all I need."

I couldn't find the right words to reply, not because I didn't want to, but because I simply didn't know what to say. The lump in my throat was too heavy, and my heart was too tangled in emotions I couldn't articulate.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against mine, and I felt the warmth of her kiss flood through me, making everything else fade away. Her hands, gentle but confident, started roaming across my body.

"I miss you so much," she murmured, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "I deserve this, don't you think?" She chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with a mix of desire and playful mischief.

Without thinking, I kissed her back, a deeper kiss this time, my body reacting before my mind could catch up.

Our tongues met, a rhythm that felt both familiar and new, pulling me closer to her.

The world around us seemed to blur, the only thing that mattered was the sensation of her lips, her touch, her presence.

Before I even realized what was happening, she had moved us effortlessly to the couch here in the dressing room, sitting down and pulling me into her lap.

My body straddled hers, and I could feel the heat of her skin against mine.

Her hands were everywhere--trailing over my back, down my sides, and then moving up to caress my breasts, sending jolts of warmth and electricity through me.

She didn't hesitate. Slowly, her fingers worked at the zipper of my gown, teasingly tugging at the fabric as she kissed me deeper, more urgently now. The clothes that had once separated us were soon discarded, left forgotten on the floor as her hands explored every inch of my exposed skin.

Her touch was possessive yet tender, as if she couldn't get enough of me. I gasped softly as she touched me in places that made my heart race, her fingers grazing over my sensitive skin. There was no denying the heat between us, a fire that burned hotter with each passing second.

The way she held me, the way her body pressed against mine--it all felt like a promise, like something more than just physical. And in that moment, I let go, surrendering to the rush of emotions and sensations that came with being close to her.

"May tao ba rito? Ba't naka-lock?" We heard a voice from outside, sharp and inquisitive, cutting through the tension of the moment. Immediately, we froze, the sound of it snapping us back to reality.

My heart raced in my chest, and I quickly scrambled to pick up my gown, slipping it back on as quickly as I could. The fabric brushed against my skin, a sudden reminder of everything that was about to change--or maybe everything that already had.

"Really? What a bad timing, ugh!" Sylvia groaned beside me, her frustration palpable.

She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply, her eyes narrowing in irritation at the interruption.

It was as if the universe had decided that this moment--the one we were both trying to hold on to--wasn't meant to be.

I stood up fully, adjusting the gown to make sure everything was in place, my fingers trembling slightly as I zipped it up. I could feel her watching me, the weight of her gaze heavy with a thousand unspoken words, but there was no time for any of that now.

Sylvia muttered under her breath, clearly annoyed by the intrusion, and walked over to the door. Without hesitation, she swung it open. A staff member stood on the other side, looking a bit startled at the sudden appearance of Sylvia.

"Ay, ma'am, pasensya na po, akala namin walang tao..." the staff member started, their words trailing off as they realized what had happened.

But before they could finish, Sylvia didn't even give them a chance to finish their sentence.

With a quick flick of her wrist, she walked past the staff member, her hand firmly grasping mine. She didn't say a word, her grip on me a silent command to follow, and I did--almost instinctively.

We walked together, hand in hand, through the corridor, her presence commanding the space around us. The soft click of our heels echoed against the walls as we made our way back into the event, the lights of the venue blurring as we stepped into the crowd.

As we neared the main area, the host spotted Sylvia and called out her name, voice rising above the noise of the gathering.

"Miss Gomez! You're back! Can you come up to the stage? A lot of people here have been asking about something," the host called out, his voice carrying through the elegant ballroom. The moment his words echoed, the entire room seemed to quiet down, and every eye turned toward Sylvia.

I felt a tightening in my chest as I watched her, the attention she commanded from everyone in the room palpable. She let go of my hand gently, and I immediately felt the absence. Her eyes met mine, soft but firm, as if to reassure me.

"I'll be back," she said, her voice carrying a promise, a trace of humor lingering in her tone. "Wait for me here, okay?"

I nodded, unable to find the words to say. My gaze followed her as she started walking toward the stage, her movements graceful, purposeful--like she belonged in this world of opulence, a world that felt both distant and so close when she was near.

She was an embodiment of elegance--every inch of her radiated confidence. The shimmer of her dress caught the light, her heels clicking on the marble floors, each step adding to the anticipation.

As Sylvia reached the stage, there was an almost magnetic pull to her presence, a gravity that drew every eye in the room. It wasn't just her beauty or her stature--it was the way she carried herself, exuding confidence, grace, and power all at once.

The host, clearly relishing the moment, flashed a bright smile. He adjusted the microphone in his hand, his voice eager and playful.

"Okay!" He beamed, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he turned toward the crowd. "So, we've got a lot of people here tonight, and there's been a question circulating all evening. Is Miss Gomez taken?"

The question hung in the air, and immediately, the room erupted into cheers and laughter, the buzz of whispers growing louder. It was as if everyone in the room had been waiting for that one moment-the one chance to know the truth.

I could feel the energy shift. The air thickened with curiosity.

"And I'm sure everyone here is dying to know," the host continued, his grin widening, "because a lot of people here like you, Miss Gomez. And they're all asking the same question--do they have a chance?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, a wave of voices surged from the crowd, a mix of laughter, teasing shouts, and some bold declarations of affection.

"I'd treat you like a queen, Miss Gomez!"

"I've been waiting my whole life for a woman like you!"

"I'll be your perfect match! You won't regret it!"

The murmurs of admiration flooded the room. A few men stood up from their seats, waving their hands or shouting their confessions. It felt like a chorus of desires, each voice louder than the last.

"I'm your biggest fan, Miss Gomez! Let me take you out sometime!"

"I've got everything you need, Sylvia! Name your price, and I'll do it!"

Laughter mixed with playful jeers from their friends, and the crowd seemed to have a life of its own now, egging each other on as if this were some kind of competition. More and more voices joined in, each man trying to outdo the other with grandiose declarations of love and admiration.

"Forget all of them, Sylvia! I'm the one you're looking for!"

"I've been following your work for years, and I promise I'll make you the happiest woman alive!"

The declarations of feelings grew more desperate, and it was clear that they were all vying for the same thing: Sylvia's attention, her affection.

I stood there, watching it all unfold, my stomach twisting with every shouted confession. It wasn't just the intensity of their words-it was the way they looked at her, the way they admired her from a distance, their eyes practically begging for a chance.

I couldn't help but feel a sharp pang in my chest.

She was surrounded by men who saw her as a prize to be won, a pedestal to be placed on. And I stood there, knowing that I was just one face in the crowd, one of many who wanted the same thing.

But then, Sylvia raised her hand-calm, collected, and with that effortless grace that always seemed to command the room. The crowd slowly fell silent, the chaos of the confessions simmering down into a quiet, expectant stillness.

With a faint smile, she glanced at the host, who was grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying the spectacle. She took a small step forward, her eyes flickering briefly to mine.

Her voice rang out clearly, almost soothing in the silence that followed.

"I'm taken," Sylvia said, the confidence in her tone making everyone pause.

My heart skipped a beat. The words wrapped around me, making my pulse race. Taken? By who?

The host raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her response. "Really? Well, who is the lucky guy?" he asked, his playful grin returning. The crowd waited eagerly, the energy in the room crackling.

Sylvia paused for a moment, letting the suspense hang in the air. Her gaze shifting for a brief second to the crowd before locking onto me. Her eyes softened, the sharp, teasing edge of her smile melting into something more intimate, more real.

The next words that left her lips made my heart leap in my chest.

"My love. Cynthia Lim Sevilla Sanchez," she said, her voice steady but full of affection. "The girl I want for the rest of my life. My future wife."