Chapter 43 - Their House
Tori messaged me Wednesday afternoon.
sunday?
I was reviewing supplier terms.
date?
Pause.
family
I stopped.
Oh.
There.
your house?
parents' house
Different.
Important.
I stared at the message for a few seconds.
you sure?
Three dots.
yes
Then—
i told them
I sat back.
about me?
yes
Pause.
properly this time
Not—
they technically knew she dated women.
Not—
something vague enough to ignore.
Properly.
how did it go
Long pause.
Then—
we're having sunday lunch aren't we
Fair.
okay
I thought for a moment.
anything i should know
Immediate.
don't bring anything expensive
I frowned.
why would i
because you are you
Rude.
fruit
fine
Then another message came.
and lia
hm
don't try to win them
I stopped.
That one was specific.
Probably because she knew me.
okay
i mean it
i know
Then—
if they're uncomfortable, let them be uncomfortable
There.
That was harder.
Because every instinct I had around discomfort was usually—
remove it.
Fix it.
Make the situation easier.
Give people enough information until they reached the conclusion I wanted.
But this wasn't a negotiation.
Her parents didn't need a better pitch.
And Tori clearly didn't want me turning myself into one.
okay
Pause.
thank you
Sunday morning, Mama saw the fruit.
"Kanino?"
"Tori."
"Again?"
"Her family."
Mama stopped.
"Oh."
Exactly.
Sofia looked up from her phone.
"You're meeting the parents?"
"I have met parents before."
"Not girlfriend parents."
I gave her a look.
"Please don't make this dramatic."
Sofia stared at my wrist.
"You're wearing the good watch."
I looked down.
Normal watch.
Technically one of the better ones.
I took it off.
Mama laughed.
"Bakit tinanggal?"
"No reason."
Sofia grinned.
"She told you not to look rich."
"No."
"Did she?"
"No."
"Then why—"
"She said don't bring anything expensive."
Sofia's eyes widened.
"Ohhh."
"No."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're thinking very loudly."
Mama handed me a container.
"Bring this."
I stared.
"What is it?"
"Cassava cake."
"Tori said fruit."
"Fruit lang?"
"Yes."
Mama looked personally offended.
"You're going to someone's house for lunch."
"I know."
"Bring."
"Tori specifically—"
Mama pushed the container toward me.
Final authority.
I messaged Tori.
problem
Immediate.
what
my mother added cassava cake
Pause.
that's fine
I smiled.
she wins
apparently
Tori's parents lived in a house that immediately explained several things about her.
Clean.
Organized.
Not sterile.
Shoes aligned near the entrance.
Family photos.
Certificates.
Graduation pictures.
Trophies.
Awards.
More certificates.
I stared at one wall.
Tori noticed.
"Don't."
"What?"
"You're counting."
"I am not."
"You absolutely are."
"Seven."
"Lia."
"Eight if the framed recognition near the stairs is yours."
She sighed.
"Eight."
I smiled.
Interesting.
Her mother's voice came from inside.
"Victoria?"
Tori stiffened.
Barely.
But I noticed.
"Yes, Ma."
She looked at me.
"You okay?"
Probably meant—
ready?
I nodded.
"You?"
She exhaled slowly.
"Ask me later."
Fair.
Then she reached for my hand.
Stopped.
Looked toward the living room.
Then back at me.
I waited.
Tori took my hand.
We walked in together.
Her mother stood first.
"Tori."
Then her eyes dropped briefly—
to our hands.
Back to my face.
Information received.
"Ma, this is Lia."
I smiled.
"Good afternoon po."
"Good afternoon."
Her mother smiled too.
Polite.
Careful.
Not cold.
Not warm.
Her father stood next.
Formal.
Measured.
"Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon po."
Tori squeezed my hand once.
Then—
"My girlfriend."
There.
No—
friend.
No—
someone I'm seeing.
Girlfriend.
Her mother's smile changed almost imperceptibly.
Her father nodded once.
"Okay."
Not approval.
Not rejection.
Just—
heard.
Then someone came out of the hallway.
A woman around her late twenties.
"Finally."
Tori closed her eyes.
"Bea."
The woman grinned.
"You must be Lia."
"Yes."
She hugged Tori first.
Then looked at me.
"I'm Bea. Ate."
Ah.
Sibling.
Then a younger man appeared behind her.
"Hi."
Tori pointed.
"Marco."
He lifted one hand.
"Hello."
Then looked at Tori.
"You actually brought her."
Tori stared.
"I said I would."
"I know. But you say many things."
"Fuck you."
Her mother turned.
"Victoria."
Tori immediately—
"Sorry."
I looked away before I laughed.
Marco saw.
Smiled.
Okay.
Siblings.
Definitely easier.
Lunch started normally.
Which meant—
food.
Questions.
Where did I study?
What did I do?
Where did I live?
How did we meet?
How long had we been dating?
Normal interrogation.
Less chaotic than my family.
More formal.
Her mother—
Tita Elena—
asked most of the questions.
Her father—
Tito Ramon—
listened more.
Tori answered some.
I answered others.
Then—
"So you have a business?"
Tito Ramon asked.
"Yes po."
"What kind?"
I explained the printing and customization business.
The current expansion.
A few systems.
Kept it simple.
He nodded.
"Small business?"
I paused.
Current answer—
yes.
Technically.
There were other things growing.
But Tori had said don't win them.
"Yes po. Growing."
Tori glanced at me.
Noticed.
Said nothing.
Her father asked about employees.
Suppliers.
Margins.
Practical questions.
Not dismissive.
Actually interested.
I answered.
Then stopped before turning lunch into a board presentation.
Progress.
Tita Elena looked at Tori.
"And you met because of work?"
"Yes."
"Client?"
"No."
"Colleague?"
"No."
Tori smiled slightly.
"She disagreed with me."
Her mother frowned.
"With what?"
"Several things."
I laughed.
Tito Ramon looked at me.
"You disagree often?"
I looked at Tori.
"Yes."
"Still together?"
"So far."
Tori kicked me lightly under the table.
Marco laughed.
Bea grinned.
Tita Elena didn't.
Not because the joke was bad.
Something else.
She looked at Tori.
Then—
"You've always been stubborn."
Tori's expression shifted.
Tiny.
Familiar.
Bea immediately looked down.
Marco took a drink.
Interesting.
Tori answered calmly.
"I prefer specific."
Her mother sighed.
"See?"
I said nothing.
Not mine.
The conversation moved.
Work.
Traffic.
Food.
Bea's job.
Marco considering graduate school.
Normal.
Then Tita Elena asked me—
"Your parents know?"
"Yes po."
"And?"
"They invited Tori last Sunday."
Pause.
"Oh."
Her mother looked at Tori.
"You already met them?"
"Yes."
"How was it?"
"Nice."
Simple.
Her mother looked back at me.
"They're okay with—"
She stopped.
There.
The unfinished sentence sat on the table.
Tori answered for her.
"With me having a girlfriend?"
Silence.
Tita Elena picked up her water.
"Yes."
Tori's voice stayed calm.
"They're okay with me."
That landed.
Not aggressive.
Not defensive.
Just—
fact.
Her mother nodded slowly.
"That's nice."
Different word.
Still careful.
Still not enough to call acceptance.
I could feel Tori beside me.
Still.
Controlled.
I wanted to touch her hand under the table.
Didn't know if she wanted that here.
So I didn't.
A few minutes later—
her fingers found mine first.
There.
I squeezed once.
Then it happened.
Of course.
Tita Elena said—
"By the way, Tori, Tita Susan asked about you."
Tori froze.
Marco immediately looked at Bea.
Bea closed her eyes.
Ah.
Here we go.
Tori kept eating.
"Why?"
"You remember Carlo?"
Silence.
I knew nothing about Carlo.
Apparently I already disliked him professionally.
Tori put down her fork.
"Ma."
"What?"
"Not today."
"I'm just saying."
"You know why she's asking."
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to."
Tita Elena looked uncomfortable.
Then glanced at me.
There.
Son.
Of course.
Tori breathed out.
"Ma."
Her voice stayed very calm.
"I have a girlfriend sitting beside me."
No euphemism.
No avoidance.
Her mother looked down.
"I know."
"Then why are we discussing Carlo?"
"I only said Susan asked."
"And?"
"And nothing."
Tori picked up her fork again.
Silence.
Marco stared very intently at rice.
Bea looked like she wanted to disappear into the chair.
Tito Ramon finally spoke.
"Elena."
Just her name.
Her mother sighed.
"Fine."
Conversation ended.
Technically.
But the atmosphere had changed.
And every instinct in me woke up.
Make joke.
Redirect.
Be charming.
Demonstrate that I was respectable.
Successful.
Stable.
Educated.
Safe.
That Tori had made a sensible choice.
That I could fit into whatever category they needed me to fit into.
I remembered her message.
Don't try to win them.
So I did nothing.
I ate.
Held her hand under the table.
And let her mother's discomfort belong to her mother.
That was surprisingly difficult.
After lunch, Bea pulled me toward the kitchen.
Not literally.
Politely.
"Help?"
"Sure."
Tori looked at me.
I nodded.
Fine.
In the kitchen, Bea handed me plates.
Then whispered—
"Sorry."
I looked at her.
"For?"
She glanced toward the dining area.
"Carlo."
"Not your fault."
"I know."
"Then don't apologize."
She stared.
Then smiled slightly.
"You really are like her."
"What does that mean?"
"Annoying."
Fair.
I laughed.
Bea rinsed a plate.
Then—
"She told us about you."
I looked at her.
"Before today?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Enough."
Dangerous answer.
"She likes you."
I smiled before I could stop myself.
"That's useful information."
Bea laughed.
Then her expression softened.
"She's been nervous all week."
That surprised me.
"Tori?"
"Yes."
"She doesn't look nervous."
"Exactly."
Ah.
Family skill.
Useful to know.
Bea continued quietly.
"Mom isn't horrible."
"I didn't think she was."
"She just..."
Bea searched.
"Has a picture."
There.
"Of what Tori's life should look like?"
"Yes."
I nodded.
Bea dried her hands.
"Tori was always the easy child."
Interesting.
"Easy?"