Special - Celeste POV - Almost, Again
I made it to the car.
That was already an achievement.
I opened the door.
Got inside.
Closed it.
Locked it.
Then sat there.
For maybe—
ten seconds.
Twenty.
I don't know.
I stared through the windshield.
My hands were still on my lap.
My bag beside me.
Phone inside.
Keys in my hand.
Everything exactly where it was supposed to be.
Except—
me.
I looked at myself in the rearview mirror.
My eyes were red.
Mascara still mostly intact.
Foundation—
surprisingly surviving.
Lipstick gone.
Of course.
I laughed once.
Bad idea.
My face immediately crumpled.
"No."
I covered my mouth.
No.
No, no, no.
Not here.
Drive home first.
Cry at home.
Be dignified.
You've already cried in front of her enough.
I closed my eyes.
Breathed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then I remembered—
I wore good makeup.
And started crying again.
"Putangina."
I leaned forward until my forehead hit the steering wheel.
Not hard.
Just enough.
My shoulders shook.
There was nobody here now.
No Lia watching me.
No waitress pretending not to notice.
No reason to wipe every tear the second it appeared.
So I stopped trying.
I cried.
Actually cried.
Ugly enough that if anybody took a picture, I would destroy their phone.
My chest hurt.
My nose hurt.
My eyes hurt.
Everything hurt.
And the worst part—
the absolute worst part—
was that Lia hadn't done anything wrong.
I almost wished she had.
God.
I wished she'd lied.
I wished she'd led me on.
I wished she'd kissed me while knowing she never wanted me.
I wished she'd used me.
Anything.
Give me something ugly enough to hold.
Something I could hate.
Instead—
she liked me.
Really liked me.
I knew that.
She'd told me.
I felt it every time she reached for my hand.
Every time she kissed me back.
Every time she looked at me like she was surprised she still knew exactly how to want me.
We had finally done it properly.
That thought made another sob tear out of me.
"Fuck."
We finally did it.
No college almost.
No—
maybe someday.
No flowers I pretended didn't mean too much.
No waiting for Lia to notice that I was already standing right there.
We went on dates.
Actual dates.
She held my hand.
I touched her waist.
She kissed me.
She wanted me.
I told her—
I am not casual about you anymore.
And she stayed.
For once—
she stayed.
I had thought—
maybe.
Just maybe.
This time—
we made it past almost.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Apparently not.
I drove home badly.
Not dangerously.
Just—
like somebody whose brain was mostly somewhere else.
At every red light, I remembered another piece.
Her face when I asked—
Do you want me enough to choose me instead?
I already knew.
I fucking knew.
That was why I had asked.
Some stupid part of me had still wanted her to prove me wrong.
Then—
No.
Tiny word.
Clean.
No loophole.
No—
maybe later.
No—
give me more time.
Just—
no.
I cried at the next red light.
Excellent.
Very safe.
Very glamorous.
When I got home, Dad was in the living room.
Of course.
Of course he was awake.
Of course the universe had decided I needed witnesses.
He looked up when I came in.
Then froze.
His face changed immediately.
"Celeste?"
"No."
I walked faster.
"Anak—"
"Dad, please."
He stopped.
Thank God.
I made it halfway to the stairs.
Then—
"Lia?"
I stopped.
Fuck.
One word.
Just her name.
That was all it took.
My shoulders dropped.
I didn't turn around.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I whispered—
"She chose someone else."
Silence.
Long.
Then—
"Oh."
That was it.
Not—
sayang.
Not—
I told you.
Not—
who?
Just—
oh.
My throat closed.
Dad stood.
I heard him come closer.
Not too close.
He waited beside me.
"Do you want me to ask?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"Do you want me to insult her?"
A laugh escaped through the tears.
"Dad."
"I'm offering options."
"She didn't do anything wrong."
"I don't care."
I finally looked at him.
He looked genuinely offended on my behalf.
That made me cry harder.
"Dad."
"What?"
"She really didn't."
He stared.
"Did she lie?"
"No."
"Cheat?"
"No."
"Use you?"
"No."
"Treat you badly?"
"No."
"Then bakit gusto ko pa rin siyang awayin?"
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
Wet.
Broken.
Dad looked pleased with himself for approximately one second.
Then he saw my face properly.
His own changed.
"Oh, anak."
No.
Not that voice.
I looked away.
He pulled me into a hug.
I went willingly.
That was the mistake.
The second his arms closed around me—
gone.
Completely.
I pressed my face against his shoulder and cried like I was twenty.
Maybe younger.
Dad rubbed my back.
Didn't tell me to stop.
Didn't tell me it would be okay.
Thank God.
Eventually he asked quietly—
"Did you love her?"
I couldn't answer immediately.
That made the answer obvious.
"I think..."
My voice broke.
"I think I was getting there."
Dad's hand stopped for half a second.
Then continued.
Fuck.
That hurt too.
Because if I'd already loved her fully, maybe I could blame the pain on that.
But no.
This was something growing.
Something with somewhere to go.
Something that might have become—
more.
And Lia cut it before I got to find out.
Not cruelly.
Correctly.
Still—
cut.
Dad whispered—
"And she liked you?"
I laughed bitterly against his shirt.
"Yes."
He pulled back slightly.
"What?"
"She liked me."
"Then..."
He frowned.
I knew exactly where his brain was going.
"If she liked you—"
"She liked someone else too."
Dad's face hardened.
"No."
"Dad."
"I don't like that."
"That's not illegal."
"I know. I still don't like it."
Despite myself, I smiled.
Then he asked—
"More?"
I closed my eyes.
"No."
That was somehow harder to explain.
"Not like that."
Dad waited.
"She said I'm not worse."
His eyebrows went up.
"Very comforting."
"Dad."
"Sorry."
I wiped my face.
"She said she could build something really good with me."
Dad stared.
I laughed painfully.
"I know."
"Then what the hell?"
Another laugh.
Because honestly—
yes.
What the hell.
"She said..."
I stopped.
That sentence.
The one that had ended everything.
"She keeps reaching toward Tori."
Dad was quiet.
I looked down.
"She thinks of her."
Pause.
"When something happens."
Another pause.
"She wants to know what's next."
Dad's expression changed.
Less angry.
More—
sad.
"Oh."
Yeah.
Oh.
That was exactly it.
I wiped another tear.
"I understood."
"I don't."
I looked at him.
He shrugged.
"I'm your father. I don't have to."
That broke another laugh out of me.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"No."
I leaned against him again.
He asked—
"So she chose her."
"Yes."
"And you let her."
I pulled back.
"What was I supposed to do?"
"Fight."
My eyebrows lifted.
Dad immediately—
"Not literally."
"Good clarification."
"I mean—"
He sighed.
"I don't know."
Exactly.
Neither did I.
Then I whispered—
"I didn't want her because I won."
Dad looked at me.
"I told her that."
My throat tightened again.
"I wanted her because she chose me."
There.
That had always been the point.
Even in college.
Maybe especially then.
I didn't want Lia cornered.
I didn't want persistence mistaken for love.
I didn't want to wait long enough that eventually I became the easiest available answer.
I wanted—
her.
Turning toward me.
Current choice.
Clear eyes.
No guilt.
No history debt.
No—
Celeste has always been here, maybe I should finally reward that.
No.
I had wanted a yes that belonged to me.
And she gave it—
to Tori.
Fuck.
Dad's hand covered mine.
Then he said—
"I'm still allowed to dislike this."
I laughed.
"Yes."
"Good."
I wiped my face again.
"You would like Tori."
"No."
"You haven't met her."
"Don't care."
"She sounds smart."
"No."
"She seems decent."
"Worse."
I laughed harder.
Dad nodded.
"Exactly."
Then—
"She better treat Lia well."
I stopped.
Looked at him.
He looked annoyed.
I smiled weakly.
"There you are."
"What?"
"You already care about Lia again."
He frowned.
"I can be angry at her and still care about her."
Apparently.
Same.
I went upstairs eventually.
Took off my earrings.
Watch.
Bracelet.
Put everything exactly where it belonged.
Then stood in front of the bathroom mirror.
My makeup had officially surrendered.
There were streaks near my eyes.
Foundation broken around my nose.
Lip color mostly gone.
I stared.
Then laughed weakly.
"I wore good makeup."
God.
That stupid joke at dinner.
I had said it because I needed one thing—
one tiny thing—
that wasn't devastating.
And Lia had laughed.
I had laughed.
Then cried again.
Very efficient emotional cycling.
I reached for cleanser.
Stopped.
Looked at myself.
Then suddenly—
I saw Lia's face when I asked for the goodbye kiss.
That hurt differently.
Because she'd said yes.
She had kissed me back.
Really kissed me back.
Not pity.
Not half-hearted.
Her hand on my cheek.
Me leaning into it because—
of course I did.
For a few seconds, I had exactly what I wanted.
And I knew it was ending while I had it.
I braced both hands against the sink.
Another tear fell.
"Why?"
No one answered.
"Why am I always almost when it's you?"
There.
The question had been sitting inside me all night.
College.
Almost.
Flowers.
Almost.
Then Mara.
Years.
This life—
again.
Dates.
Hands.
Kisses.
Want.
Almost.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
"We almost did it again."
My voice broke.
I pressed my lips together.
"No."
Not—
almost did it.
We did do something.
That mattered.
I hated that my brain wanted to reduce the whole thing to failure.
It hadn't failed.
That was the problem.
We had something real.
Something good.
Something that might have become more.
And she still chose differently.
I slid down against the cabinet until I was sitting on the bathroom floor.
Very elegant.
Very executive.
I hugged my knees.