Swipe Right for Chaos

by chachareese

Summary:

Anaiah Arceta, UST’s ultimate playgirl, is used to chasing thrills, not feelings.

Jalen Robles, a disciplined medtech student from UP, never signed up for chaos—or Tinder.

But when a mischievous best friend swipes right for her, Anaiah slides into Jalen’s inbox with a message that’s impossible to ignore:

“Your place or mine?”

Chapter 1

Anaiah Arceta didn’t exactly plan on becoming a legend at UST. But when you live out loud the way she did, reputations have a way of following you around like shadows in the sun.

People whispered about her in classrooms, in dorm hallways, and at every little campus café where gossip brewed faster than coffee. Some envied her. Some rolled their eyes. Anaiah didn’t care either way. She liked being seen, really seen, even if only for the chaos she carried around.

She was the girl who laughed loudest in the library, turned late-night frat parties into impromptu adventures, and had the uncanny ability to make everyone she met feel like a supporting character in her story.

Anaiah was confident, sharp, and unapologetically herself. But for all her charm, for all her swipes left and right on Tinder, she hadn’t found someone who made her stop. Not really. Not in the way that mattered.

Love, at least the kind people wrote about in cheesy romcoms or swooned over in K-drama fan groups, was still a distant concept for her.

Anaiah’s life was fun, messy, and unrestrained, and she liked it that way. She wasn’t opposed to love—she just hadn’t met anyone worth slowing down for.

Friday afternoons were her favorite. It was the time when classes ended, the sun draped the campus in a lazy orange glow, and she could relax, phone in hand, scrolling through Tinder like a guilty pleasure she had no reason to hide.

Her thumbs were fast, decisive: left for the predictable profiles, right for the ones that sparked a flicker of curiosity. Mostly, it was a game. Mostly, it was fun.

Her best friends, Cassie and Guila, sat across the library table, faces half-bored, half-amused, because Anaiah had a habit of turning even a study session into a spectacle.

“Girl, you’re not seriously still swiping, are you?” Cassie asked, raising an eyebrow. She tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned over, peering at Anaiah’s screen.

“Obvious,” Anaiah replied, not looking up. “It’s research. Purely scientific. Observing patterns in human behavior.”

“Mm-hmm,” Guila said, smirking. “Sure. That’s why you have 30 matches and three… questionable decisions waiting in your inbox.”

Anaiah shrugged, smirk tugging at her lips. “All valid. None permanent. Just… experimentation.”

Cassie and Guila exchanged a glance that said she’s never going to change. And Anaiah loved that they understood her. They were her safe ground in a world that kept trying to pin her down.

Her thumb paused mid-scroll. A profile caught her eye—Jalen.

She blinked.

Not because Jalen was flashy, or wild, or obviously remarkable in the usual sense. Jalen’s picture was simple: a medtech student from UP, smiling softly, hair casually tousled, the kind of smile that seemed genuine without trying. No Instagram filters, no posed angles, no captions screaming “look at me.” Just… normal. Steady. Honest.

Anaiah raised a brow, a small thrill of curiosity sneaking in. Normal was rare in her world. And for some reason, Jalen’s quiet presence drew her in. She lingered over the profile, reading the short bio: “Medtech student. Coffee enthusiast. Occasional night owl.”

Normal. Predictable. Safe. And yet… different.

She swiped right.

The motion was casual, almost instinctive, but the subtle excitement it sparked in her chest didn’t go unnoticed. Something about this girl made Anaiah pause in a way she wasn’t used to. She leaned back in her chair, letting the hum of the library and the chatter of her friends fade into background noise.

“Ayyyy,” Cassie teased, nudging her shoulder. “Nagtitinder ka na naman?”

“Uh huh,” Anaiah said, smirking. “Boring eh.”

“Boring?” Guila snorted. “Girl, tinitrip mo lang mga tao dyan.”

The library bell rang, signaling the end of her study session, and Anaiah packed her things, still thinking about Jalen. When she stepped outside into the warm late-afternoon sun, the world felt the same—bustling, messy, alive—but her phone buzzed with a notification that made her grin:

It’s a match!

She grinned, typing quickly:

“Your place or mine?”

Simple. Bold. Direct. Exactly the kind of move that made her feel alive.

Cassie and Guila peeked in, drawn by the laughter that spilled out from Anaiah.

“Ngumingiti mag-isa teh? Parang baliw.” Guila asked, raising an eyebrow.

Anaiah shrugged, smirking. “Just… making a bold move. Huwag nga kayong OA.”

Cassie leaned over, squinting at the screen. “Uh-oh. Yan na naman siya. Who’s the victim this time?”

Anaiah’s grin widened. “Not a victim, a willing participant. Hopefully.”

They rolled their eyes, used to her antics, and left her to her thoughts. Alone now, Anaiah traced the edge of her phone, imagining Jalen’s reaction. Part of her expected nothing—no reply, no interest, maybe even a polite brush-off. And yet, another part of her hoped for something. Something unexpected. Something that might shake the foundations of her carefully controlled chaos.

She leaned back against the chair, staring at the window, and allowed herself a tiny, dangerous thought: maybe this one could be different. Maybe this one could be worth more than a single night, a fleeting thrill, a swipe left or right. Maybe she wanted… more.

And that thought, Anaiah admitted only to herself, made her pulse a little faster, made her lips curl into a smirk, made her heart wonder what she’d gotten herself into.

 

The night air wrapped around Anaiah Arceta like a familiar hug as she and her friends Cassie and Guila made their way through the crowded streets near UST. Friday nights were chaotic, loud, and alive—and that’s exactly how Anaiah liked them.

“Girl, seryoso, ano plano mo tonight? Magpapakasabog ka ulit?” Cassie teased, sliding her arm through Anaiah’s.

Anaiah smirked, tossing her hair. “Magpapakasabog? Hindi. Mag-a-adventure. Alam mo, may kaibahan ‘yan. ‘Adventure’ sounds better kaysa ‘reckless behavior’.”

Guila laughed, shaking her head. “Adventure, ha? You call that adventure? Last week pa, ‘yung rooftop incident—parang kasaysayan na yun sa mga horror stories natin.”

Anaiah grinned. “Exactly. Horror stories with style. Plus, free drinks and Instagram content. Win-win. Dapat may adventure in life, mga besh. Kahit konting thrill, basta buhay na buhay.”

Cassie snorted. “Beshie, buhay na buhay ka nga… pero minsan nakakahiya ka na rin.”

“Excuse me, it’s called charisma,” Anaiah said, smirking. “Kayo ang nakakahiya minsan. Alam niyo ‘yon.”

Their laughter mixed with the hum of the city. Anaiah loved these moments—Chaotic, spontaneous, yet comforting. With Cassie and Guila, she didn’t have to be cautious. She could be Anaiah Arceta—the loud, fearless, playgirl queen of UST—and they’d cheer her on or roll their eyes, sometimes both.

“Beshie, parang may iniisip ka ah,” Cassie said, raising an eyebrow as they waited for their order of street fries.

Anaiah shrugged, smirking. “Just… strategic stuff.”

“Strategic stuff?” Guila teased, nudging her. “O… someone’s got a crush? Huh?”

Anaiah rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Classified. Confidential. State secret. You’ll never know.”

Cassie grinned. “Secret? Aba, this is rare. You, Anaiah Arceta, keeping secrets? Wow.”

Anaiah shrugged, letting the smirk linger. “What can I say? You two are lucky I trust you.”

They picked up their fries, walking toward their favorite hidden café tucked between apartment buildings. Neon lights flickered, reflecting off puddles from a passing drizzle. Inside, the café smelled of coffee, fried snacks, and the faint perfume of students winding down after classes.

Anaiah took her usual spot by the window, letting the world blur into streaks of neon. She liked spaces like this: casual, unassuming, alive with stories. Each person had a narrative she could imagine, twist, and enjoy watching unfold.

Her thumb hovered over her phone. The bold “Your place or mine?” she sent earlier was still out there, and she felt that tiny rush of anticipation again. Anaiah Arceta didn’t wait often—but when she did, it was fun.

Cassie leaned closer. “Ano na, girl? Ang tahimik mo ah. Nervous ka ba?”

Anaiah smirked. “Nervous? Huh. Wala. Hindi. I’m just… focused, okay?”

“Focused on what?” Guila asked, crossing her arms. “Don’t tell me… someone from Tinder?”

Anaiah shrugged, sipping her iced coffee. “Possibilities. That’s all. Nothing big… yet.”

Cassie laughed. “Nothing big? Girl, you literally sent ‘Your place or mine?’”

Anaiah shrugged again, grinning. “Besh, it’s all about efficiency. Why wait? Life’s short. Kung may chance, grab it.”

Guila shook her head but couldn’t help smiling. “Grabe ka talaga. Seryoso ka ba o laro lang?”

Anaiah leaned back, watching the city outside the window, letting the neon streaks of light blur across her vision. “Minsan laro lang. Minsan… curious lang. Tonight, I’m… curious.”

The night passed with laughter, shared fries, playful teasing, and casual flirtations with strangers at nearby tables. Anaiah was in her element, fully herself, untethered. Yet each time her phone buzzed—even if it wasn’t Jalen—her chest tightened slightly with expectation.

By the time they left the café, the streets were quieter, wet from a passing drizzle, neon lights shimmering on puddles. Anaiah’s hoodie was slightly damp, her hair messy, but she walked with the same confident, untamed rhythm she always carried.

She checked her phone one last time. No reply yet.

Anaiah Arceta, UST’s fearless playgirl, smirked. She had sent the boldest message she’d sent in months. Now, the wait wasn’t uncomfortable. Not empty. Not at all. It was… charged. Full of possibilities.

And for the first time in a long while, Anaiah Arceta felt a thrill that wasn’t about chaos, drunken nights, or fleeting attention. This was something else. Something unpredictable. Something… maybe worth more than just a swipe.

Back in her dorm room, Anaiah Arceta kicked off her sneakers and dropped her bag on the floor, letting the chaos of the day settle around her. The walls were plastered with photos, posters, and Polaroids of nights out with Cassie, Guila, and whoever else had been caught in her orbit. Textbooks lay in neat-ish piles, a silent nod to the part of her life that demanded structure—labs, classes, deadlines. But the rest… that was all Anaiah Arceta.

She flopped onto her bed, phone still in hand, staring at the ceiling. The message she sent to Jalen—the bold “Your place or mine?”—sat there, delivered, unread. Her chest pulsed with the tiny thrill of anticipation. She knew she shouldn’t care. She never cared. And yet, here she was, letting herself feel it.

Anaiah had built walls around herself, high and unshakable. Flings, one-night things, hookups—it was all fun, all controlled, all disposable. Nothing to cling to, nothing to slow her down. She liked it that way. That’s what she told herself. That’s what everyone assumed about her.

But curiosity… curiosity was a different kind of fire. And Jalen, quiet and simple, had sparked it.

She traced the edge of her phone, imagining Jalen’s smile, the subtle tilt of her head in that profile picture. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t chaotic. It was… grounding. Safe, maybe. And the thought of someone like that intrigued Anaiah Arceta more than she wanted to admit.

She thought of her past flings, the ones who left quickly, the ones she left quickly, and the tiny, painful realization that she remembered them more vividly than she wanted. The names, the laughs, the stupid inside jokes—they lingered. But she never let anyone linger like this.

Her phone buzzed. Anaiah’s heart skipped.

Not Jalen. Just a notification from the group chat with Cassie and Guila. A funny meme, a new gossip clip, a minor distraction. She smiled, replying quickly with a laughing emoji, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

She wandered to her window, looking out at the city lights. Neon signs reflected like streaks of fire over puddles from the day’s rain. The world moved fast, messy, loud. That was her world. And yet… Anaiah Arceta felt an unfamiliar pull toward something slow, something steady, something unknown.

 

-----

Jalen Robles had never been much for distractions. MedTech at UP wasn’t easy, and she liked it that way. Focused, meticulous, driven—these were the words her professors used, and the ones she secretly liked.

Her life revolved around schedules, lab reports, and late nights at the condo with her friends—Madison, her best friend since first year, and Yves, their study partner-slash-annoying-but-endearing classmate.

Tonight, the three of them were holed up at Jalen’s condo, textbooks spread across the dining table, laptops humming, and a pizza box waiting in the lobby because Jalen had insisted on ordering dinner herself. She was careful like that, small routines that kept her grounded.

Madison, as usual, was fidgety, bouncing between phone and laptop, occasionally teasing Jalen about how dull she was compared to everyone else.

Yves was buried in notes, muttering chemistry formulas under his breath, blissfully unaware of Madison’s antics.

When the buzzer for the pizza went off, Jalen slipped into the lobby, grabbed the boxes, and came back.

She barely noticed Madison fiddling with her phone, setting it up as if it were hers.

Apparently, Madison had decided that Jalen needed Tinder. Jalen barely knew the app existed; she hadn’t installed it herself, never had the inclination.

But Madison, mischievous as always, set it up for “fun” and swiped a few profiles, giggling to herself.

Jalen shrugged it off, putting her phone on silent on the counter, her mind already buried in biochemistry notes. Until, hours later, a notification pinged.

She unlocked her phone and froze.

Your place or mine?

Jalen’s eyes widened. She blinked, scrolled up, and scrolled again, trying to process what she was seeing.

“Tangina, Madison! Ano to?” she yelled, voice echoing across the condo. Madison burst into laughter from the other room, completely unbothered, while Yves peeked over his notes, raising an eyebrow.

Jalen sank into her chair, heart pounding, muttering, “Who the hell is Anaiah Arceta?”

Chapter 2: Chaos

If hell had a waiting room, I was probably stuck in it tonight—armed with nothing but a half-eaten slice of pizza and the worst notification I had ever received.

The words on my screen glared at me, so bold and casual they might as well have been a death sentence:

Your place or mine?

I swear I stopped breathing for a good five seconds. My heart was pounding against my ribs like it was trying to escape. And the irony? I wasn’t even the one who downloaded Tinder.

That was all Madison’s fault.

“Madison!” My voice cracked across the condo like a fire alarm.

From the kitchen, she popped her head out with a grin, a greasy slice of pizza dangling from her fingers. “Yes, anak?”

“Don’t anak me!” I marched toward her, shoving my phone an inch from her nose. “What the hell is this? Who’s Anaiah Arceta and why is she asking me to pick between her place or mine?!”

Her grin widened like the villain she truly was. “Omg, she replied already?”

“She didn’t just reply—she’s insane!” My words tumbled over each other, fueled by panic. “Tangina nakikielam ng phone kasi?!”

 

At the dining table, Yves finally looked up from her pile of notes. Her glasses slipped down her nose as she blinked at me, confused. “Wait, wait. Backtrack. Who’s Anaiah? Since when ka may Tinder?”

 

“EXACTLY!” I screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at Madison. “I don’t have Tinder! SHE made one on my phone!”

 

The silence lasted all of two seconds before Yves choked on her laughter. She slapped the table, nearly knocking over her iced coffee. “No way. The Jalen Robles—Ms. Study-Eat-Sleep-Repeat—may match?!”

 

“Hindi nakakatawa, Yves!” I tried, though my face burned hot.

 

“It’s hilarious,” Madison shot back, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

She snatched my phone before I could stop her, scrolling like she owned the app.

“Ohhh. UST girl. May aura. Parang… pak! Ang lakas ng personality. Honestly, bet ko siya for you.”

 

“BET MO, HINDI KO!” I lunged for the phone, but she twisted out of reach like the slippery demon she was.

 

“Relax, anak.” She waved me off, smirking. “Think of this as fate.”

 

“Fate?!” My voice cracked so loud Yves snorted into her notes. “Madison, Tinder is not fate—it’s digital Russian roulette!”

 

But Madison wasn’t listening. Her fingers flew across the screen, too fast, too dangerous.

 

“Madison. Don’t you dare—”

 

Too late.

 

The message whooshed off before I could stop her.

 

I froze. My stomach plummeted. “What did you send?!”

 

Her smirk was infuriating. “Relax. I just said hello.”

 

Suspicious, I snatched the phone back—and when I read it, my jaw nearly unhinged.

 

On the screen, bold and unmistakable, her reply read:

 

Hello, daddy ni Jalen to. Anong sinasabi mo dyan?

 

“Madison!!!”

 

The shriek that tore out of me could have shattered glass.

 

Yves fell sideways on her chair, laughing so hard her glasses fogged up. “What the actual—HAHAHA, Gago ka Mads!”

 

“You told her you’re my dad?!” I squeaked, scandalized beyond reason.

 

Madison just shrugged, as if she hadn’t committed social homicide. “Ginawan ko na nga ng paraan para lumayo sayo eh ayan na nga.”

 

“Ay wow?” I gaped at her. “Edi thank you pala.”

 

Yves slapped the table repeatedly, gasping through her laughter. “Tigilan niyo na nga yan pota kayong dalawa.”

 

I buried my burning face in my hands. “This is my nightmare. I’m actually living my nightmare.”

 

And then my phone buzzed.

 

The three of us froze.

 

A heavy silence fell over the room, the only sound my own ragged breathing.

 

Slowly, with trembling hands, I unlocked the screen.

 

Anaiah had replied.

 

I braced myself, half-expecting anger, disgust, maybe even a block. But instead—

 

Hello po Tito, pakiask naman po sa anak nyo if her place or mine.

 

Madison let out a scream-laugh so violent she dropped her pizza onto the floor. Yves was pounding the table, wheezing, her whole face red from laughing too hard.

 

Meanwhile, I… wanted the earth to open up and swallow me alive.

 

“Pati tatay ko dinamay nyo na!!!” I cried, voice cracking. “What is happening to my life?!”

 

“Oh my God,” Madison wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. “This girl is ICONIC. I love her already.”

 

“Love her?!” I sputtered. “She’s humiliating me!”

 

“Humiliating? Babe, she’s matching your energy. This is flirty banter 101. Textbook example!” Madison grinned, snatching the phone again.

 

I lunged for it. “Give me that—”

 

“Nope.” She danced away from my reach, giggling like the devil incarnate. “You’re boring, Jalen. You need someone like this to spice you up.”

 

“She’s not spicing me up, she’s threatening my blood pressure!”

 

“Honestly,” Yves chimed in, still giggling, “I like her. She has guts. Matched na kayo, tapos agad-agad bold opener? Ang tapang. Meanwhile ikaw…” She gestured at me dramatically. “…you can’t even reply with ‘hi.’”

 

“Because normal people don’t start conversations with—” I waved my arms wildly, “—Your place or mine?!”

 

“Normal is boring,” Madison said sing-song, collapsing onto the couch in victory.

 

I groaned, collapsing into the nearest chair like a prisoner awaiting execution. My thoughts spiraled. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the type to flirt online. I wasn’t even the type to flirt offline.

 

I was the girl who stuck to schedules. Who found comfort in neat notes, balanced lab results, predictable routines. Dating apps? Chaotic. Dangerous. Messy. Exactly the kind of thing I avoided like the plague.

 

But now… thanks to Madison… I was neck-deep in chaos with someone named Anaiah Arceta.

 

---

 

The message kept staring at me like it was waiting for my soul.

 

Coffee date muna tayo. Sagot ko na.

 

If this were some movie, maybe I’d be grinning right now, composing a witty reply.

But no — this was real life. My life. Which meant the only thing I was doing was panicking and imagining ways to strangle Madison.

 

“Uy, hindi ka pa rin nagrereply?” Madison asked from the couch, casually flipping through Netflix like she hadn’t just ruined my peace of mind.

 

I shot her a glare. “Ano bang gusto mong i-reply ko? ‘Sorry, my so-called best friend catfished me using my own phone’?”

 

“Pwede rin,” she said, smirking. “Pero mas fun if sumabay ka na lang.”

 

“Fun for you,” I muttered.

 

Across the table, Yves peeked from behind her notes. “So… sino nga ulit ‘yon?”

 

I sighed. “Anaiah Arceta. Some girl Madison swiped on. And apparently she’s game enough to flirt with… whoever Madison pretended to be.”

 

“Hindi naman ako nag-pretend,” Madison corrected, grinning. “Technically, ikaw pa rin ‘yon. Ako lang nag-open ng opportunity.”

 

I buried my face in my hands. Kill me now.

 

But curiosity is a stubborn disease. And med students? We always want to diagnose.

 

So when Madison and Yves got distracted arguing about what to watch, I quietly unlocked my phone again and searched: Anaiah Arceta.

 

It wasn’t hard. A girl like her wanted to be found. Public Instagram, 12k followers, feed curated like an aesthetic moodboard.

 

Her profile picture was the same smile from Tinder — sharp, playful, confident. But scrolling down her posts gave me more: neon-lit bar selfies, beach shots with friends, photos in oversized hoodies that probably weren’t hers. Captions littered with inside jokes and cryptic one-liners like “Chaos is the new normal.”

 

I opened her tagged photos.

 

Big mistake.

 

Every other week, she was in a different party. One shot had her holding a bottle like it was an accessory. Another, arms wrapped around two different people. A blurry photo of her on a dance floor, laughing like the night belonged to her.

 

My stomach tightened, though I wasn’t sure why.

 

“Found her?” Yves’s voice broke in, startling me. She’d somehow appeared at my shoulder without me noticing.

 

I locked my phone too fast. “No.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean yes.”

 

Madison joined in, grinning. “So, verdict?”

 

I hesitated. Honesty slipped out before I could stop it. “She’s… pretty.”

 

Madison gasped dramatically. “Wow. Jalen Rivera admitted someone is pretty. Write that down, Yves. Historic day.”

 

“Shut up,” I muttered, heat rising to my cheeks. “I just said she’s pretty, not that I’m interested.”

 

“Same thing,” Yves teased.

 

“It’s not.” I sat up straighter, forcing my voice calm. “Look at her feed. Bars, drinking, too many faces in her photos. Alam ko na ‘yang type. Playgirl. Hindi ako papatol.”

 

Madison frowned in mock offense. “Eh ano ngayon if she’s a playgirl? Hindi ka naman magpapakasal bukas. Fun lang.”

 

“Fun is not in my vocabulary,” I said flatly.

 

Yves smirked. “Yeah, we know. Ang nasa vocab mo lang: CBC, RFT, at caffeine.”

 

They both laughed. I didn’t.

 

The truth was, I’d already made up my mind.

 

Anaiah Arceta was pretty, yes. The kind of pretty that made people stop scrolling. The kind of pretty that belonged in bars with flashing lights, not in my world of pipettes and lab coats.

 

And sure, maybe part of me wondered what it would be like to match her energy — to stand in that chaos and laugh the way she did. But I wasn’t built for that.

 

I liked order. I liked quiet. I liked knowing where I stood.

 

Girls like her? They burned too fast, too bright. And I wasn’t about to get caught in that fire.

 

I put my phone face-down again, firm. “End of story. Hindi ko siya i-rereplyan.”

 

“Boring,” Madison sang.

 

“Practical,” I corrected.

 

Yves tilted her head, watching me with that annoying knowing look she always had. “So… gaghost mo siya?”

 

“I didn’t ask for this,” I argued. “So technically, it’s not ghosting. It’s… correcting Madison’s mistake.”

 

Madison rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, daddy’s girl.”

 

I groaned, chucking a pillow at her. She laughed even harder, Yves joining in.

 

Their voices filled the condo, chaotic and familiar. I sank back in my chair, trying to drown out their teasing.

 

I pressed my phone face-down again, forcing myself not to peek.

 

Anaiah Arceta was pretty — objectively, dangerously, frustratingly pretty. The kind of pretty that pulled people into her orbit like moths to a neon flame. But she wasn’t my type. Not even close.

 

My type? That was different.

 

If I was being honest — the kind of honesty I rarely said out loud, even to Madison and Yves — I didn’t want a girl who turned heads the moment she entered a bar. I didn’t want someone whose nights blurred with flashing lights, whose tagged photos were proof of how many people they’d already held close.

 

I wanted… steady.

 

Someone who didn’t need to shout to be heard. Someone whose presence was enough, quiet but grounding. I wanted the kind of girl who could sit with me in the library for hours without complaining, the kind who understood that sometimes silence said more than words.

 

Someone simple, but not boring. Honest, but not predictable. A girl who’d choose coffee over tequila shots, conversations over chaos.

 

I imagined her — whoever she was — sitting across from me at a café, both of us hunched over our laptops, occasionally trading soft smiles over mugs of hot cappuccino. No drama, no pretending, just… comfortable.

 

Safe.

That was my type.

Not Anaiah Arceta.

 

Not a girl who laughed the loudest in every tagged photo, who thrived in chaos, who probably didn’t even know the meaning of the word “quiet.”

 

Pretty wasn’t enough. Not for me.

 

“Uy,” Madison broke into my thoughts, flopping onto the couch beside me. “Bakit ka tulala dyan? Nagfa-fantasize ka ba kung paano niyo ide-date si Anaiah?”

I glared at her. “Hindi. Sinasabi ko lang sa sarili ko kung bakit hindi siya type.”

Yves snorted from the table. “Type daw. So may comparison ka na.”

I groaned, covering my face with a pillow. “You guys are impossible.”

“Admit it,” Madison teased, tugging the pillow away. “She’s your type in denial.”

“No.” My voice was steady, final. “She’s the exact opposite of my type.”

 

And I meant it.
At least, that’s what I told myself.

Chapter 3: Annoying

I thought ignoring her would be enough.

One last scroll through Anaiah’s neon-filled socials, one quiet mutter of “not my type”, and that would be the end of it.

 

But no.

Because at exactly 11:32 PM, my phone lit up again.

Anaiah: You swiped right miss, so I assumed you like me too.

 

I blinked at the screen, my chest tightening like I’d been caught red-handed.

 

“What the—” I whispered, panic bubbling in my throat.

 

Before I could even react, Madison was already leaning over my shoulder like the nosy older sister she always pretended to be. Her eyes widened, and then that wicked smile curved her lips.

 

“Ohhh,” she sang, practically bouncing in place. “She’s calling you out.”

 

“Excuse me?!” I hissed, typing furiously with shaky fingers.

 

Jalen: Nagkamali lang.

 

I hit send, satisfied. End of conversation. Case closed.

 

Except… not.

 

My phone buzzed again.

 

Anaiah: Yiiieee, dadahilan pa siya. Sooooo your place or mine? Oks lang naman if dito sa condo ko.

 

My jaw dropped so fast I swear I heard it crack. “What is wrong with her?!”

 

Madison clapped her hands, eyes sparkling. “Oh my god, gusto ka niya talaga.”

 

“Hindi ito nakakatuwa!” My voice was a shriek.

I stabbed at the keyboard, blood boiling.

Jalen: Hard pass. Ayoko ng hookup. Di ako interesado. Bye.

I placed the phone down like it was radioactive. Done. That’s it.

 

Except, again… not.

 

The screen blinked alive.

 

Anaiah: Then let’s be serious then. No hookups 😉

 

I nearly threw the phone across the room. “Ganito ba talaga sa Tinder?!” I ranted, pacing the living room while Madison and Yves watched like it was primetime TV. “Masyadong pamigay mga tao?”

 

“Pamigay?” Yves chuckled, adjusting her glasses. “Or baka interested lang siya sayo?”

 

“Interested my ass,” I muttered under my breath, though my cheeks burned. I snatched my phone again and typed with full force.

 

Jalen: Gosh sobrang annoying mo.

 

And just like that—ping.

 

Anaiah: Don’t be annoy na baby girl.

 

My entire body locked up. “BABY GIRL?!” I shouted, my voice echoing like a banshee.

 

Madison was already half-dead on the couch, laughing so hard tears rolled down her cheeks. “Oh my god, Jalen! Baby girl agad? First chat pa lang?”

 

I could feel my blood pressure spike. “STOP. Just—stop."

jalen: Why are you even here sa Tinder?

 

As if she had her lines rehearsed, her reply dropped instantly.

 

Anaiah: Ikaw bakit ka andito?

 

I groaned, throwing my head back.

Jalen: Ako nauna nagtanong!

 

And then came the dagger:

 

Anaiah: Looking for my… true love na para bang ikaw? 😉

 

I froze. My face heated so fast it felt like fire. I hated how smooth she was. I hated it even more that part of me felt caught off guard.

 

Jalen: Ah.

 

My lame excuse of a reply was instantly answered.

 

Anaiah: So you are here to find some true love too?

 

Jalen: NOPE.

 

Anaiah: So andito ka because?

 

That was it. I shut my phone off and tossed it onto the bed like it had personally offended me.

“Done. I’m done.”

Madison was practically glowing with mischief, swooping in to grab my phone. “Kala ko ba hindi mo siya icha-chat? Eh kanina pa kayo nag-uusap.”

 

“She’s the one chatting me!” I argued, muffled against my pillow. “Ang kulit eh. This is your fault, Madison! Nakakainis ka talaga!”

 

“Chill lang babes,” she teased, tossing the phone back at me. “You can block her anytime.”

 

I considered it. Truly. My thumb even hovered over the block button.

 

And then—ping.

 

Messenger.

 

Not Tinder.

 

My heart plummeted.

 

I opened it hesitantly, and there it was: a new message request. From her.

 

And attached? A photo.

 

A selfie.

 

Her leaning against a café window, hair loose, light spilling across her face like it was designed to make me suffer. Her smile was casual, but sharp enough to cut.

 

Anaiah: Hi, sige na harmless naman ako.

 

I sat up so fast I nearly fell off the bed. “NAGSEND PA NGA NG PICTURE?!”

 

Madison and Yves scrambled over like vultures circling fresh prey.

 

“She’s bold,” Yves said simply, but her smirk gave her away.

 

“Baka soulmate mo na ‘yan,” Madison whispered dramatically, clutching her chest.

 

I groaned, furiously typing.

 

Jalen: Sobrang annoying mo naman.

 

And then, like clockwork—

 

Anaiah: Annoyingly cute?

 

I slammed my phone shut so hard I thought it would crack. “Nope. Nope. I’m done. Ayoko na.”

 

Except…

 

Ping. Ping. Ping.

Notifications rolled in like bullets.

• Hey I just wanna hangout with you
• aww left me on read
• still there?
• No?
• Alright have a good night miss sungit

I buried my face in my pillow again, muffling a scream loud enough to shake the walls.

Madison actually fell onto the floor laughing, kicking her legs in the air. Yves just shook her head, grinning like she’d been expecting this.

---

 

Weekends were supposed to be my safe space.

 

No professors breathing down my neck, no 20-page lab reports waiting to drain the life out of me. Just quiet mornings, grocery runs, maybe some K-drama if I felt like treating myself. But with Madison as my best friend? Forget it. My weekends were never safe.

 

“Babe,” Madison sing-songed, leaning over the kitchen counter with that devilish grin, “inom tayo later.”

 

I didn’t even look up from my notes. “Pass.”

 

“Yves and I na lang?”

 

“Good. Mas tahimik bahay.”

 

Madison gasped dramatically, like I’d just told her I hated puppies. “Grabe ka, wala kang pakisama!”

 

I sighed, finally glancing at her. “Madison, kung gusto mong uminom, go. I’ll follow later. Susunod na lang ako.”

 

Her eyes narrowed, but a victorious smile still broke through. “Aba, at least ‘susunod.’ Noted yan, Miss Robles.”

 

I regretted my words instantly.

 

⸻

 

By the time the sun dipped low and the city buzzed awake, Madison was already dragging Yves out the door with her. I stayed behind, telling myself I’d catch up later—if I even bothered.

 

Except… I did bother.

 

Around 9 PM, I found myself walking toward the little pub Madison mentioned. The air was cool, Manila’s neon signs flickering like they were daring me to regret this. My stomach twisted with the familiar anxiety that always came before social situations.

 

Inside, the place was warm, loud but not deafening, students spilling laughter over mismatched tables. Madison spotted me instantly, waving like a lunatic.

 

“Jalen! Over here!”

 

I trudged over, nodding at Yves who was already nursing a beer. Beside Madison were two new faces—girls around our age, all smiles and charm.

 

“Introduce ko kayo!” Madison chirped. “This is Cassie and Guila, mga taga-UST.”

 

We exchanged polite smiles. Cassie had this sharp, confident aura, while Guila radiated that quieter, sarcastic vibe. Both looked at ease, like they belonged anywhere.

 

Cassie leaned in toward Madison, whispering something I half-caught over the music. Then she grinned. “Ah, sakto. I invited one more friend. Paparating na siya.”

 

Madison tilted her head. “Oh? Sino?”

 

“Anaiah,” Cassie replied easily.

 

The name hit me like a bucket of ice water.

 

My pulse stopped.

 

I whipped my head toward Madison so fast she actually flinched. “Anaiah? Gago?”

 

Her brows furrowed, lips twitching like she was holding back a laugh. “Oh ano naman? Siya lang ba may name non?”

 

“Taga-UST?!” My voice cracked. “Baliw ka ba, Mads?”

 

“Relaks lang, napaka-OA mo naman.”

 

“OA?!” I hissed, grabbing her wrist and dragging her toward the CR before anyone noticed my panic.

 

Inside, I leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection like it had betrayed me. “That’s her. The Tinder girl. The one na kinukulit ako kagabi!”

 

Madison burst out laughing so loudly I wanted to die right there. “Oh my god. Jalen. Hindi pwede. The universe ships you two.”

 

“This isn’t funny!” I snapped. My stomach churned. “Paano kung magyabang siya? Paano kung ikwento niya kung paano ko siya inaway kagabi?”

 

“Eh ano naman?” Madison shrugged, applying lip gloss in the mirror like this wasn’t life and death. “At least magkikita kayo face to face. Malay mo, hindi pala siya ganun ka-annoying in person.”

 

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “This is a nightmare.”

 

She patted my shoulder, grinning. “It’s called destiny, babes.”

 

⸻

 

When we got back to the table, I felt it immediately—this shift, like the air grew heavier.

 

Because there she was.

 

Anaiah Arceta.

 

Up close, she was… worse. Worse in the sense that she was even prettier than her neon-soaked Instagram photos. Hair loose, casual jacket thrown over a crop top, confidence dripping from her smile as she greeted everyone.

 

“Hi, sorry I’m late.” Her voice carried, warm and effortless.

 

Cassie lit up. “Finally! Girls, this is Anaiah.”

 

Anaiah’s eyes scanned the table, landing—unfortunately, inevitably—on me. Recognition flickered. And then that smirk.

 

Oh no.

 

Madison, sensing my meltdown, jumped in like the devil she was. “Ah, this is Jalen. Don’t be weirded out. Tahimik lang talaga siya.”

 

I shot her a glare so sharp it could kill.

 

Anaiah tilted her head, smile widening like she already knew everything. “Tahimik, huh? Interesting.”

 

I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

 

⸻

 

From that moment on, I barely touched my drink. I barely spoke. Every laugh of Anaiah’s ricocheted in my chest like an echo I couldn’t mute.

 

She was loud, confident, magnetic—the kind of person who made even strangers lean in closer just to catch her words. And I… I just sat there, clutching my glass like it was the only thing keeping me alive.

 

At one point, Madison nudged me under the table. “See? Hindi siya nakaka-annoy in person, diba?”

 

I didn’t answer.

Because the truth?

She was still annoying.

But she was also… dangerously captivating.

And that terrified me more than anything.

 

I thought if I stayed quiet long enough, Anaiah would get bored and move on to someone else at the table.

 

Wrong.

 

Because at some point, when the laughter mellowed and the noise blurred into background static, she turned to me. Just me.

 

“Hi.”

 

Simple. Direct.

 

I blinked, caught off guard. “…Hi yourself.”

 

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Mas maganda ka pala sa personal.”

 

My cheeks burned instantly. I rolled my eyes, masking the panic with irritation. “Shut it.”

 

She chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. “Hindi mo naman ako nireplyan, eh. Mukhang may nakamatch ka na iba sa Tinder.”

 

I stiffened. The audacity. “Told you, I’m not into hookups.”

 

Her gaze softened—not mockery this time, but something steadier. “And I told you, if gusto mo ng serious… then I’ll be.”

 

For a second, I didn’t know what to say. My brain scrambled, torn between disbelief and… something else I refused to name.

 

But before I could overthink it, she shifted the conversation. “So… what’s your course?”

 

That one question turned into ten. About school, professors, coffee haunts, favorite subjects, even our rants about Manila traffic. She was a natural talker—smooth, confident, the kind of person who could make silence feel intentional, not awkward.

 

And against my better judgment, I found myself answering. Responding. Laughing even.

 

Madison noticed. Of course she did. Her smug look burned holes on the side of my face.

 

“Stop looking at me like that,” I hissed under my breath.

 

She sipped her drink innocently. “Like what?”

 

“Like you’re watching a romcom unfold.”

“Eh kasi naman,” she whispered, giggling.

I wanted to sink into the floor.

 

 

 

Later that night, after the table chatter shifted back to Cassie and Guila’s UST stories, Anaiah leaned close. “Labas tayo?”

 

I frowned. “Why?”

 

“Pahangin lang. Ang init dito.” She stood, already waiting for me.

 

I hesitated. My brain screamed NO. My legs betrayed me.

 

Before I knew it, we were outside.

 

The parking lot was nearly empty, the buzz of the bar muffled by the thick night air. The cool breeze brushed against my skin, sharp and grounding.

 

“Mas tahimik dito,” she said, walking beside me.

 

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Obviously.”

 

For a moment, it was almost… nice. Quiet, in a way the bar could never be. Just footsteps, soft laughter in the distance, the hum of the city alive but far enough away.

 

Then—

 

She grabbed my wrist, spun me gently, and before I could even gasp—her lips crashed against mine.

 

I froze.

 

Every thought, every word, every heartbeat stuttered into silence.

 

Her mouth moved softly at first, coaxing, patient. I was too stunned to react. Too stunned to breathe. My first kiss—hello?? Nobody told me what to do in this situation!

 

So… I copied her.

 

Clumsy at first, awkward even, but she smiled against my lips, like she found my panic endearing. That little curve of her mouth while kissing nearly melted me.

 

Then it deepened. Her hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, her confidence swallowing my uncertainty whole.

 

And for a terrifying, exhilarating second… I let her.

 

Until—

 

“Let’s go to my place?” she whispered, still so close our breaths tangled.

 

It was like a bucket of cold water dumped over me.

 

Reality snapped sharp.

 

My eyes widened. I shoved her lightly, stumbling back a step. “What the—No!”

 

Her brows knitted, confusion flashing across her face.

 

But I didn’t stay long enough to explain.

 

I turned, walking fast, practically storming back inside the bar before my heart could betray me further.

 

Inside, the noise swallowed me again, but nothing drowned out the chaos spinning in my chest.

 

My first kiss. Stolen by Anaiah Arceta.

And I had no idea what to do with that.

 

Anaiah: Hi, where kayo? Umuwi na kayo?

Anaiah: Uh, good night? Not saying sorry for the kiss though.

Chapter 4: Nope

I thought ignoring someone would be easy.

 

You just… don’t reply. Right? Leave the message hanging, watch the notification die out on your lock screen, and boom—problem solved.

 

Except it wasn’t.

 

Because Anaiah Arceta wasn’t just “someone.”

 

She was a headache. A neon-colored, tequila-scented, annoyingly perfect-smiled headache who had the nerve—the absolute audacity—to steal my first kiss like it was nothing.

 

And now?

 

Now she was spamming me.

 

 

 

Messenger notifications:

• Good morning 🌞
• Have a great day sa class mo today!
• Coffee later?
• Ingat sa uwi.
• Can I see you?

 

 

Every single day.

 

It was relentless.

 

I never replied. Not once.

 

I opened the messages sometimes, sure, because I wasn’t a monster. But respond? Hell no. My thumbs hovered more times than I wanted to admit, itching to type a “stop texting me” or even a “thanks” or, God forbid, a smiley face.

 

But I never did.

 

Not a single word.

 

Because if I did, it would mean I cared.

 

And I didn’t care.

 

Right?

 

 

 

Midterms were around the corner. My life was reduced to a cycle of coffee, highlighters, and begging the heavens for a brain upgrade. My desk was a warzone of flashcards and reviewers, my notes littered with half-legible scribbles that only made sense if I squinted hard enough.

 

“Focus,” I muttered to myself, dragging another pen across a page. “Focus ka lang, Jalen. Equations, not emotions.”

 

But the highlighter in my hand betrayed me, circling the word “arc.”

 

Arc.

 

Arceta.

 

I groaned, slamming my forehead against the notebook. “I hate myself.”

 

Madison, lounging on my bed like she had zero responsibilities in life, laughed so loud I wanted to throw the entire book at her. “Oh my god, you’re thinking about her again.”

 

“I’m not,” I snapped, flipping the page violently.

 

“You are. Kita ko sa mukha mo.”

 

“This is my exam face!”

 

“That’s your crush face.”

 

“Shut up, Madison.”

 

She cackled, scrolling her phone lazily. “Wala ka pang reply kahit isa? Kahit ‘k’ lang?”

 

“Never.”

 

“Grabe ka. Kung ako yan, matagal na akong sumagot. Effort kaya mag-good morning every day.”

 

I scoffed. “Effort? That’s just desperation.”

 

“Or sincerity.”

 

“Desperation.”

 

She shrugged, unbothered. “Sabagay, you’ve never been kissed before her, no?”

 

My entire soul left my body. “MADISON.”

 

She grinned like the devil, tossing me a pillow. “Relax! Pero seryoso, first kiss mo na nga, tapos siya pa. Hindi mo ba naisip—like, what if it means something?”

 

“It doesn’t.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Then bakit hindi mo siya ma-get over?”

 

I glared at her, words stuck in my throat.

 

Because she was right.

 

And I hated that she was right.

 

 

 

The thing was—Anaiah was good.

 

Not just good-looking. Not just good with words. She was good at kissing.

 

And I had no business knowing that.

 

But I did.

 

The memory replayed against my will. The way she smiled on my lips like she was in control of everything, the way her hand steadied me when I was too shocked to breathe. The way she pulled away just enough to whisper, “Let’s go to my place?” like it was the most natural next step.

 

My stomach twisted every time I thought about it.

 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

 

First kisses were supposed to be sweet. Awkward maybe, but soft. Something you chose, not something stolen in a dark parking lot by a girl who thought she could charm her way into my life.

 

It wasn’t supposed to be her.

 

Not Anaiah Arceta.

 

 

 

But then I’d open my phone.

 

Another message.

 

“I hope you’re eating well.”

 

“Study hard, baby girl.”

 

“Coffee’s still on me anytime.”

 

Little things. Harmless things. Words that shouldn’t have mattered.

 

And yet…

 

They sat there.

 

Unread, unanswered, but not deleted either.

 

Because some twisted part of me couldn’t let them go.

 

 

 

Yves noticed too. She always noticed.

 

One night, she caught me staring at my phone too long, thumb hovering over Anaiah’s name.

 

“Block mo na kung ayaw mo,” she said simply.

 

I startled, shoving the phone face down. “I wasn’t—”

 

“You were.” She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Jalen, ikaw na rin nagpapahirap sa sarili mo. Kung ayaw mo talaga, tapusin mo na. Delete. Block. Done.”

 

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it.

 

Because she was right too.

 

But for some reason, I couldn’t do it.

 

I didn’t block her.

 

Didn’t delete her.

 

Didn’t end it.

 

Instead, I shoved the phone under my pillow, muttering, “I’m studying.”

 

Yves rolled her eyes. “You’re spiraling.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

 

 

Nights became the hardest.

 

When the reviewers blurred and the coffee turned cold, when the city outside was quiet and Madison was snoring on the couch, my brain refused to rest.

 

It would drift back to the parking lot.

 

To the kiss.

 

To the way my heart raced—not just from shock, but from something I didn’t want to name.

 

I buried my face in my pillow, groaning. “Not a big deal. Hindi siya big deal.”

 

But my chest disagreed.

 

It was a big deal.

 

Because she stole something from me.

 

And worse… because a part of me liked it.

 

 

 

The next morning, I tried to overcompensate.

 

Up at 6 AM, drowning myself in textbooks, highlighter ink staining my fingers. I wrote “FOCUS” on a sticky note and slapped it onto my wall.

 

But at 7 AM, my phone buzzed.

 

Anaiah: Good morning 🌞 Study well today!

 

I clenched my jaw, refusing to reply.

 

At 8 AM, another buzz.

 

Anaiah: Coffee after class? Promise, no funny business.

 

I turned the phone off entirely.

 

By 9 AM, I had rewritten the same line in my notes three times and still had no idea what it said.

 

“Why the hell,” I muttered under my breath, “am I letting her ruin my life?”

 

No answer came.

 

Just the ghost of a smile on my lips I didn’t want to admit was there.

 

I was spiraling.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop.

 

---

 

Driving home at night was one of the few things that calmed me. The steady hum of the engine, the dark ribbon of road stretching endlessly ahead, headlights slicing through the silence. Manila had been suffocating lately—midterms, endless readings, Madison’s antics, Anaiah’s… whatever the hell that was.

 

So yeah, the long drive back to the province? A breath I didn’t know I was holding.

 

This weekend wasn’t just any weekend. It was Papa’s birthday.

 

And in the Robles household, birthdays weren’t just family affairs. They were events.

 

 

 

Growing up, everyone in town knew the Robleses.

 

My father, Armando Robles, built his name from the ground up. Import and distribution, farm equipment, construction supplies—if someone wanted it, chances were Papa could supply it. They called him Boss Robles. Respected. Trusted. The kind of man people toasted to at fiestas and asked favors from during campaign seasons.

 

My mom, Maricris, was the perfect counterpart—warm, gracious, the type who remembered everyone’s birthday and made sure they left our house with a full stomach. She could charm a room of thirty visitors without breaking a sweat.

 

And me?

 

Jasmine Allen Robles. The only daughter. Their pride. Their future.

 

I grew up in wide houses, with gates that never squeaked, and backyards where whole lechon roasts were regular sights during gatherings. People looked at me like some precious heir, some untouchable thing wrapped in lace and expectation.

 

I hated it sometimes. But I never complained out loud.

 

Because at the end of the day, I loved my parents.

 

And tonight, I was going home to them.

 

 

 

By the time I reached our driveway, the party had already died down. It was late, most visitors probably on their way home. The faint sound of laughter drifted from the dining area, lights still spilling out of the wide glass windows.

 

As soon as I parked and stepped out, Mama was there.

 

“Anak!” She hurried over, her heels clicking softly on the pavement. “Finally! Ang tagal mo, Jasmine. Kakainis, halos tapos na lahat ng tao umuwi.”

 

I smiled sheepishly, grabbing the box from the passenger seat. “Traffic, Ma. But I got him a cake. And a gift.”

 

Her face softened instantly. “Ay, ang sweet naman ng anak ko.”

 

“May bisita pa si Papa?” I asked, balancing the cake carefully.

 

“Yes, anak. Yung kumpare niya.”

 

I nodded, heading straight for the dining room.

 

 

 

Papa was seated at the head of the table, his booming laugh echoing off the high ceilings. He looked older than the last time I saw him, but no less powerful, the kind of man whose presence filled a room before his voice even did.

 

“Jasmine, anak! You’re late na.”

 

I groaned playfully, setting the cake down. “Pa, Jalen nga kasi.”

 

“Jasmine Allen, whatever,” he teased, grinning wide.

 

“This is for you,” I said, pushing the cake towards him.

 

His eyes softened. “Ang bait naman ng anak ko.”

 

Then he motioned toward the other side of the table. “Ay by the way, mag-bless ka sa Tito at Tita mo. Tapos—” He gestured further, “ayan si Anaiah.”

 

…

 

My world froze.

 

I turned, cake knife still in hand, and there she was.

 

Anaiah. Sitting casually at our table. Eating like she belonged there.

 

Her eyes lifted, locking onto mine. Recognition flared instantly—followed by that same infuriating half-smile.

 

My phone was in my hand before I realized it. Fingers flying, fury burning.

 

Jalen: BAKIT KA ANDITO?!

 

Her phone buzzed across the table. She read it. Then, as if nothing, she typed back.

 

Anaiah: Ngayon mo lang ako nireplyan and aawayin mo pa ko. How rude naman, Jasmine Allen.

 

My nose flared.

 

Jalen: JALEN.

 

Her lips twitched as she typed again.

 

Anaiah: Anyways, my parents dragged me here. Di ko alam na bahay niyo pala ‘to.

 

I nearly dropped my phone.

 

Jalen: HINDI NAMAN KITA PINSAN RIGHT???

 

She paused, fork halfway to her mouth, then lowered it slowly. The corners of her lips curved—not into her usual cocky smirk, but something smaller, almost guilty.

 

Anaiah: Sorry Jalen, nagulat din ako :((

 

My pulse spiked. My hands flew again.

 

Jalen: WHAT THE FUCK? So pinsan kita??! And we kissed??? The hell! Kasalanan ‘to ng pagiging playgirl mo!

 

Her reply came quick.

 

Anaiah: Sorry.

 

I almost screamed.

 

Jalen: SHUT UP. WAG MO AKONG KAKAUSAPIN.

 

For a moment, silence. I thought she’d finally stop.

 

But no.

 

Anaiah: Pero—

 

Jalen: SHUT UP.

 

Anaiah: Pero hindi mo ako pinsan. Pero kung gusto mong maging magka-apelyido tayo, pwede naman kitang pakasalan 😉

 

My jaw dropped so hard it could’ve cracked tile.

 

I stared at her from across the table. She had the nerve—the AUDACITY—to smirk at me while chewing her food like this was the most normal dinner in the world.

 

I clenched my fists, heat crawling up my neck.

 

Jalen: Alam mo… putangina mo.

 

She laughed. I could see it, her shoulders shaking slightly, her eyes glinting with mischief like she’d just won something.

 

And me?

I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.

 

 

The messages should’ve ended there.

But no.

Because the devil incarnate sitting across from me—Anaiah freaking Arceta—wasn’t done.

My phone buzzed again under the table.

Anaiah: Ang sungit mo naman. Should I ask Tito if I can court you?

 

I nearly choked on my own saliva.

 

Jalen: Sige. Para barilin ka niya.

 

I hit send, smirking in victory.

 

Until—

 

Anaiah: Grabe naman??!

 

I slapped a hand over my face, stifling the scream bubbling in my throat. She was unbelievable. Unbelievable!

 

“Excuse me,” I muttered to the table, standing quickly. Mama looked at me quizzically but didn’t ask. I bolted to the comfort room like it was my salvation.

 

I splashed water on my face, gripping the sink, glaring at my own reflection.

 

“This is fine,” I whispered to myself. “It’s just one dinner. She’ll leave. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and she’ll be gone. No more Anaiah.”

 

Except—when I came back…

 

There she was.

 

Chatting animatedly with my father.

 

MY father.

 

“HOY!” The word ripped out of me. My steps quickened. “HOY!”

 

Papa looked up, amused. “O, anak?”

 

“BAKIT KAUSAP MO SI PAPA?!” I hissed at Anaiah, who only had the audacity to grin at me like she wasn’t committing social suicide.

 

She lifted her phone, tilting it in my direction. “Sabi mo sige??”

 

I swear my soul left my body.

 

“Grabe,” I muttered, hands trembling. “Sobrang… sobrang annoying mo, please.”

 

She leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for me to hear, “Soooo, date sa Sunken?”

 

I blinked. “NO.”

 

“Dali na,” she sang, winking. “Hindi ka pa ba nakukulitan?”

 

“Yes! Nakukulitan! Please lang, manahimik ka na.”

 

“One date,” she countered smoothly, “I’ll shut up.”

 

I narrowed my eyes. “Give me ten reasons why I’d agree with that.”

 

She didn’t even flinch.

 

“Number one, I like you.”

 

My breath hitched. Damn her confidence.

 

“Number two, you like me.”

 

I slapped my phone down, typing furiously.

 

Jalen: 3. Ang kapal mo.

 

Papa chuckled suddenly, oblivious to the silent war happening under his roof. “Anak, hindi mo ba naalala tong si Anaiah? Magkaklase kayo nung daycare.”

 

I froze. “Pa, mas ahead ata si Anaiah sakin?”

 

“Eh saling pusa ka kasi non, anak.”

 

My brain scrambled. Daycare? Me? Her?

 

To be honest, wala akong narerecall.

 

But Anaiah… of course she had something up her sleeve.

 

“Ikaw yung binibigyan ko ng Zest-O dati,” she said casually, spearing another bite of food.

 

I blinked. “Hindi ako namimigay ng Zest-O.”

 

She smirked. “Namimigay ka. Binibigyan mo ako. Kaso yung straw nakagat mo na. I thought you were being thoughtful, pero turns out, ayaw mo lang ng flavor.”

 

…

 

WHAT. THE. HELL.

 

My jaw dropped.

 

Across the table, Papa laughed, Mama covered a giggle, and Anaiah looked like she’d just scored the winning shot of the century.

 

Me?

I wanted to evaporate.

 

Finally, tapos na rin.

 

Dinner ended with the usual rounds of kwento from Papa, a few polite laughs from Tito and Tita—aka, Anaiah’s parents—and me just stabbing my fork into the cake like it personally offended me. The moment Mama stood up to send them off, I almost bolted from my chair.

 

We all walked together toward the gate, the cool probinsya night air wrapping around us. Fireflies blinked in the garden, tahimik na except for the faint chirp of crickets.

 

Anaiah’s mom was still chatting happily with mine, habang si Papa at si Tito nag-uusap about some business deal. I kept my head down, half-hoping no one noticed the thunderstorm brewing inside me.

 

And then there was Anaiah. Walking just a step behind me, humming under her breath like she wasn’t the literal bane of my existence.

 

I glared at the gravel road, gripping my phone so tight my knuckles ached.

 

At the gate, goodbyes were exchanged. Hug dito, beso doon. My parents beamed, their voices warm.

 

“Next time ulit ha,” Mama said, waving.

 

“Yes, yes, we’ll see you again soon,” Tito replied.

 

And then, with the most annoying timing in the universe, Anaiah turned to me. That stupid soft smile tugging at her lips.

 

“Goodnight, Jalen.”

 

I didn’t answer. I crossed my arms. Deadma mode.

 

But of course, fate wasn’t done torturing me.

 

My phone buzzed the second they got into their car.

 

Messenger notification.

 

I opened it and nearly choked.

 

Anaiah: goodnight pinsan :*

 

I wanted to scream. Or throw my phone into the nearest rice field. Or both.

Instead, I slammed my screen shut, stomped back inside the house, and muttered to myself—

 

“Evil. Literal na evil spawn.”

Chapter 5: Car

The provincial air had a way of sticking to my skin. Maybe it was the dust, maybe the faint smell of freshly cut grass drifting from the nearby fields, or maybe it was just my nerves clinging to me like a second shirt.

 

I had the windows of my car rolled down, engine humming soft under my palms. Papa had already waved me off with his usual reminder to drive safe, Mama sending me off with leftover food carefully packed in Tupperware.

 

It was almost six. The sun had started dipping behind the mountains, sky bleeding orange into gray, that hour where the province turned quieter, almost sleepy. I shifted gears, my mind already half on the long drive ahead—when I slowed down, blinking.

 

Because there she was.

 

At the waiting shed by the road, leaning lazily against the chipped wooden bench like she had all the time in the world. Her backpack sat by her feet, her phone in one hand, and her face—lit faintly by the dying light—turned up the second she saw me.

 

Anaiah.

 

Of course.

 

Because why wouldn’t the universe give me this final test before I escaped back to Manila?

 

I gripped the wheel tighter. My brain screamed keep driving, keep driving, KEEP DRIVING. But my foot hesitated on the gas. Before I knew it, I had slowed to a stop, rolling the passenger window down.

 

My voice came out before I even processed it.

“Pabalik ka Manila?”

 

Her smile broke out instantly, wide and annoyingly bright. “Yup. Waiting for the bus. Isasabay mo ba ko?”

 

Yung ngiti niya, tangina. Yung tipong confident but soft, like she already knew the answer.

 

I rolled my eyes, masking the storm brewing inside. “No. Tinatanong ko lang.”

 

The way her lips dropped into mock disappointment almost made me laugh. Almost.

 

“Ah. Sige, drive safe,” she said, pushing herself off the bench, backing away from the car as if she’d actually let me go.

 

And maybe that was it. Maybe I could’ve just let her. Drove away. Let her take the bus, sit beside some stranger, and never have to deal with her again until the universe decided to torture me next.

 

But my mouth betrayed me.

 

“Sumakay ka na.”

 

I wanted to hit my head on the steering wheel.

 

Her grin returned, twice as smug. “Sabi ko na hindi mo ako matitiis.”

 

I glared at her, heart thundering as she slipped into the passenger seat like she’d always belonged there. She dropped her bag at her feet, clicked the door shut, and buckled her seatbelt with exaggerated slowness.

 

“Mag seatbelt ka,” I snapped.

 

“Ayoko, nasasakal ako.”

 

I nearly swerved right there. “Mahuhuli tayo. Baliw ka ba?”

 

“Okay, okay,” she relented, clicking it in but only halfway slumping against it. “Pero pag nasa highway na lang ha, ikakabit ko. Promise.”

 

I groaned, tapping the wheel as if it could give me strength. “Kung mahuli tayo, ikaw magbabayad.”

 

“Fine.”

 

And just like that, we merged onto the road.

 

 

 

The first few minutes were quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed against my ears, that made me hyper-aware of every small thing—her elbow brushing against the console, the way she hummed under her breath, the faint smell of vanilla perfume mixed with something citrusy.

 

I told myself to focus on the road. On the turns, the headlights, the sharp curves of the provincial highway. But of course, she wouldn’t let the silence last.

 

“So…” she started, tone casual, like we were old friends instead of two people who’d been fighting over Messenger just days ago. “How’d you learn to drive?”

 

I tightened my grip on the wheel. “Practice.”

 

She tilted her head, waiting for more. “Like… self-taught? Or may nagturo?”

 

“Papa,” I muttered. “Back when I was seventeen.”

 

“Seventeen? Galing ah.” Her smile stretched. “Scared ka ba dati?”

 

“Hindi.”

 

“Sure ka?”

 

“Medyo,” I admitted reluctantly. “Pero sanayan lang. Wala naman choice, only child. Ako lagi driver.”

 

She hummed, clearly filing the information away like she was studying me. “Noted. Jasmine Allen, family driver.”

 

“Stop calling me that,” I gritted.

 

“Jasmine Allen?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Fine. Baby girl.”

 

I slammed the brakes harder than necessary on the next curve, making her lurch forward against the seatbelt.

 

“HEY!” she yelped, laughing. “Okay, okay, Jalen na lang.”

 

I rolled my eyes, focusing forward, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me blush.

 

 

 

The drive stretched on, the sky deepening into navy, headlights of oncoming cars flashing by. The hum of the engine filled the gaps between us, but every few minutes, she’d toss another question like pebbles skipping water.

 

“San ka natutulog sa Manila?”

“Condo.”

“May roommate?”

“Wala but my friends come over from time to time.”

“So solo ka?”

“Yeah I guess.”

 

She nodded thoughtfully, drumming her fingers against her thigh.

 

A beat later—

“Scared ka ba driving at night?”

 

I frowned. “Bakit ako matatakot?”

 

“I don’t know. Dark roads. Wala masyado tao. Ako kasi kabado eh. Parang andaming pwedeng mangyari.”

 

“Sanayan lang din,” I said simply.

 

Her gaze flicked to me, lingering longer than necessary. “So… you’re really brave, no?”

 

I snorted. “Hindi.”

 

“Hmm,” she hummed, clearly unconvinced.

 

And that was the problem with Anaiah. She didn’t just talk. She made you feel like she was peeling something out of you, stripping away layers you didn’t even want touched.

 

I clenched my jaw, trying to tune her out, but her voice kept slipping through the cracks.

 

 

 

By the time we hit the main highway, Manila signs finally appearing on the distance boards, the car had settled into an odd rhythm. She’d ask, I’d answer in clipped syllables, she’d laugh, then quiet would fall again until she poked another hole into it.

 

And despite myself… it wasn’t unbearable.

 

Annoying, yes. But unbearable? No.

 

I caught myself glancing at her once, just once, when the streetlights caught her face. She was leaning her cheek against the window, eyes half-closed, hair falling messily across her face.

 

Pretty. Too pretty.

 

I cursed under my breath and snapped my gaze back to the road.

 

This wasn’t supposed to mean anything. She was just a girl I swiped right on by mistake, a girl too loud, too forward, too… everything.

 

But damn it, she had a way of slipping past defenses.

 

I pressed harder on the gas, hoping Manila traffic would swallow her before my thoughts did.

 

 

The car had fallen into that uneasy rhythm—her throwing little glances my way, me pretending to be completely absorbed in the road.

 

Then my phone rang.

 

I cursed under my breath, reaching for it with one hand, eyes still on the highway. Madison’s name flashed across the screen. I swiped to answer, hitting loudspeaker since my ear was occupied with driving.

 

“Yes, babe,” I said, casual.

 

Anaiah’s head whipped toward me. I ignored it.

 

“On the way. May food si Mama, pinabaon for us.” My tone softened, automatic, like slipping into a sweater I’d worn a thousand times. “Uh-huh. Mga nine p.m. d’yan na ako.”

 

A beat of silence, then I chuckled. “Okay. Love you.”

 

The line clicked off.

 

That was it. Nothing unusual—at least, not for me. Madison and I had always called each other babe, it was just our thing. Harmless. Platonic. Comfortable.

 

But the moment I dropped the phone back into the cup holder, I felt it—the air had shifted.

 

Anaiah wasn’t humming anymore. No teasing remark, no sarcastic one-liner ready to fire. She just… stared out the window, her reflection catching in the glass, lips pressed tight.

 

The silence stretched, thicker with every kilometer.

 

Finally, her voice came, flat but careful.

“Pwede mo ba ako ibaba sa McDo?”

 

I blinked. “Huh? Bakit doon? Mas safe kung sa condo mo na lang.”

 

She shook her head, not meeting my eyes. “Doon na lang, please.”

 

I opened my mouth to argue, but one look at her profile—shoulders set, jaw tense—and I let it go.

 

“Fine,” I muttered, signaling right.

 

The golden arches loomed ahead, fluorescent against the night. I pulled into the driveway, stopping by the entrance. She unbuckled her seatbelt in silence, grabbed her bag, and for the first time since she’d entered my car… didn’t look at me.

 

“Thanks,” she said simply, already stepping out.

 

Before I could respond, the door shut. She walked off, her figure swallowed by the bright lights of McDo, leaving me alone with the low hum of the engine and the sting of something I couldn’t quite name.

Chapter 6: Babe

“Thanks for the ride! Good night!”

 

That was it.

That’s the last thing I ever said to Jalen, three nights ago.

 

No reply. No wave. Just the slam of her car door and the weight of my own words echoing in my head.

 

Since then, I haven’t texted. Haven’t called. Haven’t even thought of sending another meme or a casual “good morning, baby girl”.

 

Why? Because—

Babe.

 

She said it on the phone. Clear as day. Babe.

 

And the “love you” after? Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

I may be gago, but not that gago. I know my limits. If she has someone, then I’m out. That’s not a fight I want, not a mess I’d willingly dive into. I respect relationships.

 

So, I’ve been quiet.

 

And honestly, maybe it’s for the better. Midterms are coming anyway, and if I don’t get my act together, I’ll lose the one thing I’ve worked hard to maintain since freshman year: my spot on the dean’s list.

 

 

 

I’m Anaiah Arceta. Third-year architecture student at UST.

 

I know what you’re thinking—yes, the long nights, the plates, the sleepless weeks. Been there. Still there. Always there. Architecture is no joke. My blockmates and I joke that we’ve aged ten years in three, that our bones are already 40-year-old bones because of carrying models up and down the campus stairs.

 

But despite the endless sketching, scaling, and model-making, I still love it. There’s something satisfying about turning a blank sheet of paper into a blueprint, about making cardboard and foam board look like a building someone could live in.

 

When I was a kid, I used to sketch houses on the back of my notebooks. Not the cutesy triangle-roof with a chimney type, but full-on two-storey designs with windows, stairs, sometimes even labels for where the “CR” should go. My mom thought I’d be an interior designer. My dad thought I’d take engineering like him. I guess architecture became the middle ground.

 

 

 

But architecture alone isn’t enough for me.

 

I’m also in the Photography Club.

 

It started as a hobby in high school—me and my dad’s old Canon DSLR, which he never used after buying a newer model. I picked it up, messed around with it, and suddenly I was the girl crouching on sidewalks to take “artsy” shots of puddles.

 

By college, I knew I wanted more than just selfies and aesthetic shots of coffee cups. So, I joined the org. At first, I was just another member covering small events: club orientations, a random seminar here, a mass there. But I kept showing up, kept volunteering, until eventually I was trusted with bigger things.

 

Now? I’m one of the coordinators for Paskuhan coverage.

 

Yes, that Paskuhan. The biggest, loudest, most crowded event of the year.

 

It’s chaos. Pure, unfiltered chaos. Meetings every week. Task distributions that feel like war strategies. Discussions on who covers which stage, who edits what, who handles the social media uploads. Add to that my architecture plates and—you get the picture.

 

Busy doesn’t even begin to cover it.

 

 

 

People like Jalen probably think I’m just some reckless party girl. She stalked my socials, saw the tagged photos—neon lights, red cups, smoky bars, drunk smiles. And sure, I won’t lie, that’s part of me too. I like nights out. I like music thumping in my chest, laughter spilling louder than the bass, the blur of bodies dancing.

 

But that’s not all I am.

 

What she doesn’t see: me sitting cross-legged on the floor of my dorm, rulers and pencils scattered around, measuring every millimeter of a plate that has to be perfect. Me showing up early to meetings, making lists, making sure no one forgets batteries for the cameras or extra SD cards. Me gulping down 7-Eleven coffee at 3 a.m. while rendering a perspective drawing because deadlines don’t care if you’re tired.

 

I may go out. I may laugh loud. I may flirt sometimes, sure. But I’m not careless. I’ve built this balance—work hard, play hard.

 

And the “work hard” part? That’s why I’m still standing.

 

 

 

The past few days have been a blur of meetings.

 

“Okay, Anaiah, you’re in charge of coordinating the stage photographers. Make sure they rotate shifts.”

 

“Yes, noted.”

 

“And we’ll need someone to handle the fireworks coverage—who can we trust with that?”

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

And on and on.

 

By the time I stumble out of these sessions, my head is pounding, my fingers itching to open my sketchpad again. Architecture deadlines don’t stop just because Paskuhan is coming.

 

Some nights I’m so drained that the thought of messaging Jalen—just to annoy her, just to hear her snap back—crosses my mind. But then I remember.

 

Babe.

 

And I shut my phone off.

 

 

 

It’s funny, though.

 

No matter how busy I get, there’s always this… flicker of her in the back of my head. The way she looked that night in the car, when she insisted I put on my seatbelt. The way her voice went sharp when she said “Mahuhuli tayo, baliw ka ba.”

 

She was so serious. So proper. So… her.

 

And maybe that’s why I can’t stop replaying it, even now. Because someone like me, who thrives in noise, can’t help but notice how someone like her thrives in control.

 

We’re opposites. A clash waiting to happen.

 

But for those fleeting hours on the road, I let myself imagine—what if we weren’t?

 

 

 

Anyway. That’s a thought I shove away every morning when I wake up to my to-do list.

 

Right now, all that matters is school. Plates, exams, org work. Midterms are around the corner, and then Christmas break. After that, it’ll be another semester, another set of challenges.

 

I don’t have time to chase someone who already has a “babe.”

 

So I bury myself in work. In sketching, in meetings, in photoshoots.

 

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in architecture, it’s this: no matter how shaky the foundation feels, you can always build something solid if you keep at it.

 

And me? I’ll keep building.

 

Even if part of me still wants to check if Jalen ever looked at my message.

 

Even if part of me wonders if she misses me in the silence.

 

---

 

The café was loud. Too loud, actually. Everyone seemed to be either cramming for midterms, gossiping about professors, or flirting across tables like this was some kind of dating hub instead of a coffee shop.

 

I liked noise. I liked chaos. That was my comfort zone.

 

But today? The noise just made me feel… off.

 

“Uy, Anaiah, musta ka na?”

 

Cassie’s voice cut through my haze. I didn’t realize I’d been staring at the same Instagram story for like, five minutes already. She leaned across the table, her earrings catching the light, eyes squinting at me like I’d committed some unforgivable crime.

 

“Ha?” I blinked and sat up straighter. “Okay lang.”

 

Cassie’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t buy it. Never did.

 

Beside her, Guila shoved her notes into her tote bag, sipping her iced latte like she was just waiting for the drama to unfold. “Hmm. Parang tahimik ka these days, Arceta. Hindi ka na nag-aaya ng inuman, hindi ka na rin nagpo-post ng kalat sa stories mo. Something’s up.”

 

I scoffed, leaning back. “Busy lang. Midterms. Plates. Org. Ano ba. You think I have time to breathe?”

 

“Busy daw,” Guila muttered, eyes still locked on me, smirk tugging at her lips. “Pero may aura kang off. Hindi ka ganito usually.”

 

Cassie snapped her fingers dramatically, pointing at me like she’d cracked some secret code. “Aha! Tama si Guila. Alam ko na. Musta na kayo ni Jalen?”

 

My fry nearly fell out of my mouth. I coughed so hard I had to grab my drink, glaring at her over the straw. “Hoy! Back off na sa kanya. May babe.”

 

There was silence for exactly two seconds.

 

Then the two of them exploded.

 

“LUH?! Hahahaha!” Cassie slapped the table so hard the couple beside us turned. “Di nga?”

 

“As in… may jowa talaga siya?” Guila gasped, pretending to fan herself.

 

“Yes,” I snapped, trying to keep my tone flat. Bored. Like I didn’t care.

 

But my chest? Heavy. Always heavy when it came to her.

 

Cassie leaned across the table, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Kaya pala. Kaya pala tahimik lately. Nagmumukmok ka pala.”

 

“I’m not,” I said quickly, maybe too quickly.

 

“Awww. Sad girl ka?” Cassie’s grin widened.

 

“Sad girl your face,” I shot back, heat crawling up my neck. “Sira. I’ll find another.”

 

“Yan!” Guila pointed at me, triumphant. “Classic Anaiah Arceta. One down, next please! Playgirl mode on.”

 

They burst into another round of laughter, and I laughed with them, forcing it, stretching my grin wide enough to convince them.

 

But deep down?

 

Deep down I wasn’t laughing.

 

They didn’t know.

 

They didn’t know that three nights ago, in some almost-empty parking lot, Jalen kissed me. Or maybe I kissed her. Doesn’t matter. The point was—it happened.

 

And it wasn’t just any kiss.

 

It was awkward. Messy. Hesitant.

 

Like she didn’t really know what she was doing.

 

And yet—God, yet—it stuck.

 

I remembered the way her lips moved against mine, unsure but trying. The way I smiled mid-kiss because she was copying what I was doing like some clueless newbie. The way my chest tightened at the thought that I was her first.

 

And that thought haunted me.

 

Because I was supposed to be the reckless one. The girl who didn’t do attachments. The playgirl.

 

But for some reason, that kiss… stuck.

 

I shoved another fry into my mouth, trying to drown the memory.

 

“Uy,” Guila’s voice broke through again. “Anaiah?”

 

“What?” I snapped. Too defensive.

 

She smirked. “You zoned out. Ganyan ka pag—”

 

“I’m fine,” I cut her off, rolling my eyes. “I said it already. She has a babe. End of story. Move on.”

 

“Pero halata, bes,” Cassie sing-songed, leaning closer. “Hindi ka pa naka-move on.”

 

I laughed, loud and fake. “Oh my God, you guys are delusional. Isa lang ako sa libo-libong nakamatch niya sa Tinder. Wala lang ‘yon. Parang… warm-up game lang.”

 

“Warm-up daw,” Guila muttered, shaking her head. “Pero bakit di ka nag-move on agad?”

 

“Exactly!” Cassie pointed at me again. “Usually by now may bago ka nang target. Pero ngayon? Tahimik. Ano ibig sabihin nun?”

 

I froze, staring at her, then forced a grin. “Ibig sabihin nun, busy ako. Ang dami kong plates. Ang dami kong org works. Paskuhan coverage, hello? Wala akong oras maghanap ng landi.”

 

They didn’t look convinced.

 

But they let it go—for now.

 

I leaned back, scrolling my phone just to avoid their eyes, though all I could see was Jalen’s face in my head.

 

Jalen, scowling. Jalen, rolling her eyes. Jalen, whispering “shut it” when I teased her.

 

Jalen, kissing me like it meant something.

 

And I hated it.

 

I hated that it meant something to me.

 

Because I was supposed to be untouchable.

 

 

I still remembered the way her body stiffened when I leaned in that night. The way her eyes widened before she closed them, lips trembling against mine.

And then—she kissed back.

Clumsy, sure. But real.

My smile curved against her lips as I thought, this girl… she has no idea what she’s doing, but she’s trying anyway.

And for some reason, that made my chest ache in the best way.

When I pulled back, I wanted to ask her if that was her first. But I didn’t.

Because a part of me already knew.

 

 

 

“Earth to Anaiah!”

 

Cassie waved a hand in front of my face. “Ano, tulala ka na naman?”

 

I shook my head violently. “Tangina, wala kayong pakialam.”

 

“Meron,” Guila countered smoothly. “Kasi kami ang mga kaibigan mo. And friends don’t let friends lie to themselves.”

 

Cassie leaned closer, her grin wicked. “So, aaminin mo na ba?”

 

“What?” I asked, feigning confusion.

 

“That you like her.”

 

I laughed again, forced and sharp. “Sira. I don’t. Playgirl, remember? I don’t catch feelings.”

 

But the fries in my hand suddenly tasted like cardboard.

 

And the laughter bubbling out of me didn’t reach my eyes.

 

Because maybe… maybe for the first time…

 

I wasn’t sure I was telling the truth.

Chapter 7: Paskuhan

The morning air at UST was still heavy with dew when Anaiah arrived. Her camera bag weighed on her shoulder, but her steps were quick. She’d been part of the Photography Club for three years now, and this—Paskuhan—was their busiest time.

 

By 5 A.M., she was already in a small classroom-turned-office with her co-members, surrounded by printouts of the program flow, designated shooting spots, and borrowed lenses.

 

“No classes today, pero work is work,” their president reminded them.

 

Anaiah didn’t mind. She thrived on days like this—hopping from task to task, directing angles, catching fleeting smiles through her lens. For hours, she forgot about everything else.

 

By 4 P.M., the grounds had become unrecognizable. Blankets sprawled across the field like patchwork quilts. Barkadas guarded their spots with water bottles and jackets, waiting for the bands to play. Food stalls lined the edges, smoke from grilled isaw and hotdogs curling into the December sky.

 

Anaiah crouched by the steps of the grandstand, clicking shot after shot: silhouettes framed by the Arch of the Centuries, couples tangled in fairy lights, friends posing with corndogs.

 

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Cassie.

 

“Girl, asaan ka na?”

 

Anaiah squinted against the sun, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Wait lang, I’ll just wrap this up. Magpapalit din ako, feeling ko amoy-araw na ako.”

 

Cassie laughed on the other line. “Sige bilisan mo, andito na kami sa grounds.”

 

“On it.”

 

 

 

Inside the restroom, Anaiah pulled her hair into a messy half-bun, changed into a clean black top, dabbed powder on her face, and reapplied lip tint. She studied her reflection briefly. Not bad. At least she didn’t look like she’d been running around since dawn.

 

She slung her camera across her chest again and headed toward the field.

 

And that was when she saw Cassie’s hoodie. Perfect target.

 

Anaiah grinned, crept up behind her friend, and whispered, “Bulaga!”

 

Cassie jumped in surprise. The group burst out laughing.

 

But Anaiah froze.

 

Because when Cassie turned, it wasn’t Cassie’s face under the hoodie.

 

It was Jalen.

 

Her stomach dropped.

 

She blinked once. Twice. The same girl who’d been haunting her thoughts for days—silent, unreadable—was now here, sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket. Hoodie pulled low, as if to hide. Hands stuffed in the kangaroo pocket.

 

Anaiah’s grin faltered, but she covered it quickly with a playful scoff. “Bakit ka andito?”

 

Jalen’s eyes darted to hers, just for a second, then quickly away. Her voice was even, too even. “Long story.”

 

“Ha? Hindi long story. Ako nagdala,” Madison cut in, smirking proudly like she had achieved world peace.

 

Anaiah raised a brow. Of course. Madison.

 

Cassie patted the empty space on the blanket. “Dito ka na, Nai. Reserved spot ‘to.”

 

Anaiah sat, hugging her knees and pretending to scroll through her camera. But her chest wouldn’t stop tightening.

 

Jalen Robles.

Here.

In her turf.

Looking like she wanted to disappear.

 

The irony almost made Anaiah laugh. Almost.

 

 

 

The first band came onstage. Screams rose from the crowd, lights flickered against the night sky.

 

Anaiah lifted her camera, thankful for the excuse to keep moving. “Wait, I’ll take shots muna,” she muttered, ducking away before Cassie could stop her.

 

Through her lens, she could see it all—the laughter, the chaos, the energy that made Paskuhan feel alive. She kept clicking, framing shots, adjusting angles, zooming in on strangers just to avoid looking at the blanket she had left behind.

 

Because on that blanket sat the girl she kissed.

The girl who never replied.

The girl who, apparently, already had someone else.

 

Anaiah hated herself for even noticing how Jalen’s hoodie slid off one shoulder, how she laughed quietly at something Yves whispered, how the glowsticks cast neon streaks across her cheekbones.

 

“Focus,” Anaiah muttered, clicking harder than necessary.

 

She had promised herself after that ride—that’s it. Done. No more messages, no more chasing, no more games. Babe. That word was enough to slap her awake. She wasn’t going to be stupid. She respected relationships.

 

So why was her chest burning?

 

 

 

Meanwhile, on the blanket, Jalen sat stiffly, hands clenched around her cup of soda.

 

She hadn’t wanted to come. She told Madison as much. “Midterms are near. I need to review.”

 

But Madison begged, bribed, insisted until Jalen gave in. Yves tagged along, making it harder to back out. And now here she was—staring at Anaiah Arceta’s back as she darted around with her camera, laughing with strangers, blending effortlessly into the crowd.

 

Jalen told herself she didn’t care. She had already stopped replying. She had made it clear she wasn’t interested.

 

But then Anaiah looked her way, camera half-raised, and Jalen’s chest tightened before she could stop it.

 

She looked away fast.

 

 

 

By 8 P.M., the program hit its peak. Fire dancers twirled flaming batons onstage. The crowd roared. Vendors shouted over the music. The December air was cool, but Anaiah felt sweat bead on her nape.

 

She plopped back on the blanket, letting her camera rest for a while. Cassie immediately looped an arm through hers. “Finally! Kanina pa kita hinihintay.”

 

Guila passed her a bottle of water. “You work too much, girl.”

 

Anaiah smiled gratefully, sipping. Her eyes flickered sideways. Jalen was there. Silent. Watching the crowd. Pretending Anaiah didn’t exist.

 

It stung.

 

So Anaiah laughed louder at Cassie’s jokes. She leaned closer, exaggerated her reactions, scrolled through her gallery to show Guila her shots. Anything to fill the silence Jalen’s presence carved into the space.

 

“Uy, ang ganda ng fireworks dito later,” Cassie said.

 

Anaiah smirked. “Eh di picturan natin nang todo.”

 

As if her camera could distract her from the girl just inches away.

 

 

 

When the first fireworks burst into the sky, the field erupted in cheers.

 

Anaiah raised her camera, capturing streaks of gold against the velvet night. The crowd’s faces lit up, mouths open in awe. She turned slightly—

 

And caught Jalen watching the fireworks, jaw slack, eyes reflecting the explosions.

 

For a heartbeat, Anaiah forgot to click.

 

Because this was unfair. So unfair. How could someone look so steady and fragile at the same time? How could Anaiah hate her for staying silent, and yet still want to memorize the way her eyes lit up in the dark?

 

She forced herself to turn back to the sky, clicking relentlessly.

 

Click. Click. Click.

 

Masking the ache with noise.

 

The night was alive—music pounding, fireworks still echoing in the distance, laughter weaving through the December air. UST’s grand field was glowing, littered with glowsticks, plastic bottles, and traces of food wrappers from thousands of students who had come together to celebrate Paskuhan.

 

Anaiah slung her camera over her neck, massaging her shoulders as she joined the group again. The sky was dark, but not with stars. Heavy clouds rolled in quietly, unnoticed at first.

 

“Solid ‘to,” Cassie shouted over the fading music. “Best Paskuhan so far!”

 

“Agree,” Guila added, taking a sip from her iced coffee.

 

Anaiah forced a smile. Inside, she was buzzing—too aware of Jalen’s presence two feet away. Too aware of her silence. Too aware of the memory that wouldn’t leave her: that kiss, that word—babe—and the sharp sting that followed.

 

She reminded herself again: I’m done. I respect relationships. I don’t chase someone else’s girl.

 

The crowd started thinning. Vendors began closing shop. The field grew patchy, blankets being rolled up. Anaiah checked her watch. Nearly midnight.

 

And then it happened.

 

A drop. Two.

 

Within seconds, the sky ripped open.

 

“Putangina!” Cassie squealed as fat raindrops splattered across her hoodie.

 

Students screamed and laughed, rushing toward the covered walkways. Umbrellas popped open like mushrooms. The field, already trampled by thousands of feet, began to turn into a swamp.

 

Anaiah cursed under her breath, yanking open her bag. She pulled out her black umbrella and flicked it open in one swift motion. And without thinking, her body moved first.

 

Straight toward Jalen.

 

She tilted the umbrella over the girl’s head, shielding her from the worst of the rain.

 

Jalen’s hoodie was already soaked, droplets clinging to her lashes. She blinked at Anaiah in surprise, lips parting but no sound coming out.

 

Behind them, Cassie let out a loud, dramatic, “SANA ALL MAY TUMUTULONG!”

 

Guila laughed. “Ay grabe, protective!”

 

Anaiah ignored them, shifting the umbrella closer until her own shoulder was exposed to the downpour.

 

“Okay ka lang?” she asked, voice softer now.

 

Jalen nodded, hugging her arms around herself. But Anaiah noticed the way her jaw clenched against the cold.

 

They trudged toward the gates, shoes squelching in the mud. Students shrieked as their sneakers sank, some slipping and laughing. It was chaos. But Anaiah couldn’t focus on anything except the girl next to her—shivering, silent, trying to look fine when she clearly wasn’t.

 

When they finally reached the parking lot, Anaiah spoke again. “Can you drive?”

 

No answer.

 

Jalen stared at her keys, hand trembling slightly. She didn’t say no, but she didn’t say yes either.

 

Anaiah’s chest tightened.

 

Madison piped up, brushing her wet hair back. “Uh… I don’t have my license pa.”

 

“Same,” Yves added with an awkward shrug.

 

Anaiah exhaled through her nose, then held out her hand. “Give me the keys. Ako na.”

 

Jalen hesitated but eventually dropped the car keys into her palm. Their fingers brushed—just a graze—but Anaiah felt it like static.

 

Anaiah parked neatly in front of Jalen’s condo, engine humming low. Midnight had already slipped into one in the morning. The others had gone their separate ways, but Anaiah stayed, insisting on driving Jalen home because no one else could.

 

For the past hour, silence had wrapped itself around them like another layer of night. The only sounds were the rain, the hum of the engine, and Jalen’s quiet breathing in the passenger seat.

 

Finally, Jalen stirred. She pushed back her damp hoodie, strands of hair sticking to her cheek. She looked at Anaiah—just for a second—then back at the glowing dashboard.

 

“Uwi mo na lang muna car ko,” Jalen said suddenly, voice low. “Gabi na rin. Pagod ka na.”

 

Anaiah blinked, caught off guard. “Ha? Okay lang naman, Jal. Kaya ko pa mag-Grab pabalik Espanya.”

 

“Balik mo na lang tomorrow.” Jalen’s tone was firm, but softer than usual. Almost… careful.

 

Anaiah shook her head, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “Hindi na, I’ll book Grab na lang. Sanay na ‘ko.”

 

“1 A.M. na, Anaiah.” Jalen finally turned to her, eyes steady even in the dim light. “Delikado.”

 

The way she said her name—it wasn’t exasperated, like before. It wasn’t sharp. It was almost… worried.

 

Anaiah tried to laugh it off, but it came out weak. “Okay lang talaga. Promise. Safe naman.”

 

But Jalen tilted her head, brows furrowing. “Ayaw mo akong makita ulit bukas?”

 

The question landed heavier than it should have.

 

Anaiah froze. Her throat tightened. She searched Jalen’s expression for teasing, for sarcasm—but there was none. Just sincerity, hidden beneath that tired façade.

 

For once, Anaiah didn’t have a witty comeback. No smirk. No wink. Just the weight of her heart threatening to spill through her chest.

 

She forced a smile, trying to mask the sting in her chest. “Hindi naman sa ganun…”

 

But her voice cracked at the edges.

 

Jalen didn’t press further. She simply handed Anaiah the spare key, their fingers brushing briefly.

 

“Drive safe,” Jalen murmured before stepping out into the drizzle, hoodie up, not looking back.

 

Anaiah sat frozen in the driver’s seat, the warmth of Jalen’s touch lingering on her skin.

 

Babe. That word still echoed. She had someone else. She knew she had no right.

 

But then Jalen had looked at her like that—like she actually cared.

 

Anaiah gripped the steering wheel tighter.

 

One more night. One more drive. One more reason not to let go.

Chapter 8: Night Drive

Night drives scare me.

 

Always have.

 

The long stretch of highway, the ghostly glow of streetlamps, the occasional blind corner where headlights appear too fast — they’ve all been triggers for me. My grip on the steering wheel usually turns white-knuckled, my foot hesitant on the gas, my pulse too loud in my ears.

 

But not tonight.

 

Not when Jalen’s beside me earlier, soaked and shivering, hoodie clinging to her skin. Not when her lips were pale from the sudden December rain and her hands trembled just enough for me to notice.

 

Not when all I could think about was getting her home safe.

 

My palms pressed harder against the leather wheel, knuckles straining, but it wasn’t fear that made me clutch tighter. It was the desperate need to not mess this up. To stay focused, steady, calm — even though I was exhausted beyond words.

 

I’d been awake since five in the morning, running around campus, shooting, editing, coordinating. By the time the fireworks lit the UST sky, I’d already drained every ounce of energy I thought I had.

 

And yet — somehow — I managed to drive from España to Katipunan, wait through traffic, park properly, and even walk Jalen up until she was safe.

 

How?

How the hell did I do that?

 

“You’re crazy, Arceta,” I muttered to myself as I killed the engine in my condo’s parking lot.

 

The Civic purred to silence. I leaned back against the seat for a moment, eyes closed, chest heaving.

 

Drained. Empty. But wired.

 

Like my body was begging for rest but my brain refused to let go of the image of her — curled in the passenger seat, head against the glass, lashes damp from rain, hoodie swallowing her small frame.

 

My God.

 

 

 

By the time I got upstairs, I was on autopilot. Shoes off by the door. Bag dumped on the couch. Straight to the bathroom, cold water off, warm water on, scrubbing the mud and city dust from my arms.

 

But even as the water cascaded down, I could still feel the phantom heat of her weight beside me in the car.

 

I threw on loose clothes and collapsed into bed, hair damp, phone charging by the pillow. I expected nothing. Not a single vibration, not a single notification.

 

So when the buzz came, soft and insistent, my heart actually jumped.

 

I grabbed the phone — and froze.

 

Jalen.

 

You home? Take a rest na.

 

My lips curved before I could stop them. A smile stretched, uninvited, stupidly wide. Lord, I smiled like a fool.

 

Thumbs shaking, I typed back.

 

Anaiah: Yup. Why are you still up? Naligo ka ba with hot water pagkahatid ko? Rest na, take some meds too!

 

The reply came faster than I expected.

 

Jalen: Ikaw ata ang nag aaral maging doctor sa atin ah.

 

I snorted softly, hugging my pillow.

 

Anaiah: Ah, reflexes lang ikaw naman. Sige na. Thanks for checking on me.

 

Her response landed like a whisper in the dark.

 

Jalen: Ako nga dapat mag thank you. Thanks sa paghatid sa amin!

 

For a moment, I just stared.

 

She… thanked me. Genuinely. No sarcasm. No dismissal. Just gratitude.

 

My chest tightened.

 

Anaiah: No worries :)

 

I hit send, locked the phone, placed it screen-down on the pillow.

 

But sleep?

 

Forget it.

 

 

 

Hours slipped by in silence.

 

The hum of the aircon, the occasional honk from the highway below, the faint drip of the faucet — they all played in the background while my brain refused to shut down.

 

I tossed. Turned. Checked the phone again, even though no new messages came.

 

Because the truth was this:

 

I wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

 

Not after what I learned. Not after hearing “babe” over that call.

 

Jalen wasn’t mine. She had someone else. I’d told myself I would back off, that I respected boundaries, that I wasn’t that kind of gago.

 

And yet, one text. Just one — “You home? Take a rest na.”

 

It wrecked me.

 

It gave me hope when I shouldn’t have any.

 

I shut my eyes and exhaled sharply. My head screamed stop it, Arceta, don’t go there, but my heart? My heart was already running down some reckless highway I couldn’t control.

 

Tonight, she needed me.

Tonight, I came through.

And she saw it. She acknowledged it.

That was enough.

Or at least, it should have been.

 

 

---

 

The morning light spilled weakly through my blinds, too bright for the measly two hours of sleep I managed to grab. My head was pounding, my eyes heavy — but my chest? My chest was annoyingly light. Like it was carrying a secret it didn’t want to put down.

 

Buzz.

 

I rolled over, groaning, expecting some org group chat spam about Paskuhan photos.

 

But no.

 

It was Jalen.

 

Are you going home to province today for Christmas Break? Isasabay na daw kita.

 

I shot upright in bed, blankets pooling around me.

 

Ikalma ang puso, Arceta.

 

I reread the message three times, biting my lip so hard it hurt. She was asking me. She thought about me. She considered me.

 

Like hell I was saying no.

 

My thumbs were trembling as I typed Yes — way too fast, way too eager.

 

The second it was sent, I jumped into our GC.

 

Anaiah: Girls, I’m going home today. Christmas Break.

 

The replies came instantly.

 

Cassie: Girl? Di pa bakasyon? May classes pa next week, baliw.

Anaiah: Ha? Magbabakasyon na ako.

Guila: Baliw ka ba?

 

I groaned, flopping back onto the mattress. Let them think I’m crazy. They’re not wrong anyway.

 

Buzz.

 

Another message. Jalen again.

 

Saan ka na?

 

God, too fast. She was waiting.

 

I scrambled upright, typing quickly.

 

Anaiah: Wait up, on the way. But Jalen, baka magalit ang jowa mo ha?

 

I smirked at my own gutsiness, waiting for her reaction. Surely she’d explain, right? Surely she’d say “Wala akong jowa, ano ka ba.”

 

Instead, her reply popped up two minutes later.

 

Jalen: Okay, ingat!

 

That’s it.

That’s all.

 

No denial. No reaction.

 

I nearly hurled my phone across the room.

 

“Pota,” I muttered, pressing a hand over my face. “Wala man lang reaction sa sinabi ko???”

 

My heart was a live wire, sparking between hope and humiliation.

 

And still… I was already halfway out of bed, getting dressed, packing a bag.

 

Because Jalen asked.

Because I said yes.

And there was no turning back.

 

---

 

Driving Jalen’s car back to her condo felt surreal. The leather steering wheel was still faintly warm from her hands the night before, and I couldn’t decide if that comforted me or made me even more nervous.

 

I parked neatly, turned off the engine, and sat there for a minute, palms clammy.

 

Finally, I forced myself out and waited at the lobby. The guard gave me a curious glance — maybe wondering why I looked like I hadn’t slept in days.

 

Then the elevator dinged.

 

There she was. Jalen Robles, my heartache in human form, walking out in her usual laid-back jeans and shirt combo — except this time she was holding…

 

Wait. What?

 

A bouquet. A full-blown, pastel-wrapped, ribbon-tied bouquet of flowers.

 

I blinked. I stared. My brain short-circuited.

 

“Hi,” I managed, voice embarrassingly small.

 

“Hi yourself,” she said, and then — casually, as if she did this all the time — handed me the bouquet.

 

My arms went stiff. My fingers closed around the stems on autopilot.

 

I froze. What is this for?

 

Before I could demand answers, she muttered something about forgetting something upstairs and dashed back to her unit, leaving me clutching the flowers like an idiot.

 

Minutes passed. The bouquet felt heavier the longer I held it. The stares from the lobby staff weren’t helping.

 

When she came back down, I was still rooted in the same spot.

 

“Hoy,” she laughed, tilting her head at me. “Ayos ka lang? Di ka na gumalaw d’yan.”

 

My throat was dry. “Ha.”

 

She grinned wider. “Anaiah, bulaklak lang yan, parang mahihimatay ka na.”

 

I finally found my voice. “Bakit mo ako binigyan?”

 

“Eh kasi birthday mo? Sabi ni Mama.”

 

I stared at her. Blinked once. Twice. “Ha? January pa birthday ko.”

 

“Weh?”

 

“Yup,” I said, already reaching for my wallet. “Check my ID if you want.”

 

Her eyes widened. “Oh. So… akin na pala yan.” She stretched a hand toward the bouquet.

 

I clutched it tighter, scandalized. “No! Binigay mo na sakin eh. Wala nang bawian! Jalen, ha… masyado kang pa-fall.”

 

That made her laugh again — not mocking, but soft, like she found me genuinely amusing. She didn’t argue, just shoved her hands in her pockets, letting me keep the flowers.

 

Without another word, she walked toward the car. I stood frozen again, bouquet against my chest like a shield.

 

She glanced back. “Ano, tatayo ka na lang d’yan? Tara na.”

 

My legs moved before my brain caught up, following her. The flowers were still in my hands, and damn it, so was my heart.

 

I grabbed my phone. Opened Instagram. Snapped a picture of the flowers.

Click.

Upload.

Caption: Happy Birthday to me 🥰

 

Send.

 

The instant regret came ten seconds later.

 

Damn it, Anaiah.

 

Not even two minutes passed before my notifications lit up.

 

Cassie: Tagal pa bday mo teh?

Guila: Napano? Hahaha

 

---

 

THIRD PARTY POV

 

By six in the evening, Anaiah and Jalen finally pulled into the Arceta residence. The golden wash of the setting sun stretched across the gate, catching the glint of a sleek, matte black Ford Ranger parked on the side of the driveway. The truck looked new, recently detailed, almost intimidating with its sharp lines.

 

“May bisita kayo?” Jalen asked, eyeing the beast of a vehicle.

 

Anaiah squinted. “Not sure. You wanna go down? Dito ka na mag-dinner.”

 

“No, mag-hi lang ako kay Tita. Then I’ll go na rin. Inaantay din ako nina Papa,” Jalen replied, though her tone carried that hesitant edge — the kind of politeness masking an instinct to retreat.

 

Anaiah smirked knowingly. “Pag pumasok ka sa bahay, di ka makakalabas nang hindi kumakain.”

 

Sure enough, the moment they stepped inside, surprise awaited them both.

 

“Kuyaaaa!!” Anaiah’s delighted squeal rang through the hall.

 

Her older brother, Brandon, stood from the dining table with a wide grin, arms outstretched. “Nai! Ang tagal mo naman nakauwi.”

 

“Traffic kasi,” Anaiah muttered sheepishly, burying herself into his hug like the kid sister she would always be.

 

Jalen hung back politely until Anaiah tugged her closer, the introduction inevitable. “Kuya, this is Jalen. Friend ko from Katipunan.”

 

Jalen smiled, offering a polite nod. “Good evening po.”

 

Dinner followed, as Anaiah predicted. There was no escaping it. The table buzzed with chatter — Brandon teasing Anaiah for her stubborn habits, their mom fussing over serving more food, and Anaiah shooting Jalen occasional glances that ranged between shy and challenging.

 

Jalen, reserved but courteous, held her own in conversation, surprising Anaiah with how easily she answered Brandon’s questions about school and life in Manila. There was a quiet steadiness to her that seemed to reassure the family.

 

When the evening finally wound down, Jalen excused herself. Anaiah’s mom insisted on walking her out, despite Jalen’s protests. At the car, the older woman smiled warmly.

 

“Thank you, anak, sa paghatid kay Anaiah. Palagi kang kinukwento ni Nai, mabait ka raw.”

 

Caught off guard, Jalen blinked. “Ay… no worries po, Tita.”

 

“She’s been happy nitong nakaraan,” Anaiah’s mom continued, almost conspiratorial. “Sana palagi siyang ganyan. Hindi na rin nagpapapaalam uminom.”

 

Jalen’s brows rose slightly. “Really, Tita?”

 

“Yes,” her mom sighed. “Ewan ba sa batang ’yan. Pero pinapayagan naman namin — konti lang daw. Kaya yung sasakyan niya hindi niya dinadala, takot mag-drive sa gabi.”

 

Jalen tilted her head. Takot mag-drive? That didn’t match the reckless girl she thought she knew.

 

“Hmm, bakit po, Tita?” she asked carefully.

 

Her mom’s smile faded into something more tender, almost protective. “Sakitin kasi yang si Nai. May asthma. Mukha lang wala, but she’s fragile. One time inatake ng asthma while driving home… buti walang nangyaring masama.”

 

For a moment, Jalen didn’t know how to respond. The sharp, relentless Anaiah she’d come to know — the one who teased, pestered, and annoyed her endlessly — suddenly blurred into a different image: someone vulnerable, fragile beneath the bravado.

 

She nodded quietly. “I see po.”

 

As Anaiah’s mom turned back toward the house, Jalen glanced once more at the Arceta home, catching a glimpse of Anaiah laughing at something Brandon said in the dining room.

 

And just like that, she understood — there was so much more to this girl than she thought.

 

---

 

The house had gone quiet — just the faint hum of the aircon and the distant barking of dogs in the neighborhood. She scrolled lazily through her phone, ready to pass out, when a notification popped up.

 

Jalen.

 

Her eyes widened.

 

J: Thanks sa dinner! Pahinga ka na.

 

Anaiah nearly dropped her phone. Miracle of miracles. Ikaw unang nagchat?! She sat up, grinning like an idiot. Her thumbs moved fast.

 

A: Miracle, ikaw unang nagchat. Kanina may pa-flowers, tapos may pa-message ngayon. Kikiligin na ba ako?

 

She waited. Typing bubbles appeared, disappeared, then came back. Anaiah bit her lip.

 

J: Magsleep ka na. I heard pala kay Tita na sayo yang pickup sa labas? It’s nice ha. Test drive natin tomorrow?

 

Her jaw dropped. Did she just… volunteer? To come with me?

 

A: Talaga? You’ll come with me? 🥹

 

J: Yup, kaya sleep na para may energy ka bukas.

 

Anaiah smirked wickedly at the screen, unable to resist.

 

A: Need ba madaming energy? Mag car fun ba tayo ganon?

 

It took only a second.

 

J: Tanga ka ba haha good night 😴

 

Anaiah flopped back onto her pillows, laughing softly to herself. Her chest felt too light, her grin refusing to leave.

Chapter 9: Espanya

Christmas break went by faster than Anaiah expected. One moment, she was fussing over Paskuhan photos and covering org events, the next thing she knew, she was already back at home, wrapping gifts, helping her mom in the kitchen, and dodging her relatives’ questions about boyfriends.

 

And then it was done. Just like that. Families scattered back to their own routines. Everyone was suddenly “busy”—midterms, thesis, balik-Manila travels. Even her own friends were ghosts on Messenger, stuck in family obligations or bingeing K-dramas instead of going out.

 

So there she was, sprawled on her bed one chilly afternoon, scrolling endlessly through TikTok, when her phone buzzed.

 

Jalen.

 

Anaiah sat up too fast, almost tangling herself in her blanket. Her heart skipped.

 

J: Nasa Manila ka na?

 

Her lips tugged upward. Wow. Unang bati after days of silence?

 

A: Yup, why? Hey Merry Christmas and Happy New Year pala :)

 

The reply came fast.

 

J: That’s why nagchat ako, di ko naibigay gift ko for you.

 

Anaiah’s jaw dropped. Gift? From her?

 

Her fingers flew across the keyboard.

A: Ayyyy?!? Jalen iba na yan ha. Ikaw ha????

J: Wag na nga nakakainis ka.

 

Anaiah laughed to herself, clutching a pillow. She could see Jalen’s annoyed face in her head.

A: Noooo, kidding lang. Let’s meet? I’ll go there sa Katips.

 

Seconds later, the bubble appeared.

J: No ako nalang punta dyan sa Espanya.

 

Anaiah blinked. She’ll come here? Willingly?

 

A: Sure ba? Sige I’ll libre nalang ikaw ng food dito!

J: Alright! 3PM?

A: G

 

She threw herself back on the bed, squealing into her pillow. Jalen Robles was actually coming to see her. With a gift. On break. After all that.

 

Her heart wouldn’t stop racing.

 

---

 

The plan was simple: gift-giving, then dinner. Nothing fancy, no hidden agenda. At least that’s what Jalen kept telling herself while clutching the small paper bag inside her tote.

 

Anaiah, on the other hand, was buzzing with too much energy. The second Jalen stepped into Espanya, she was already waiting at the lobby, leaning casually against the wall like she wasn’t nervous at all.

 

“Wag ka na magdala ng car,” Anaiah said as soon as Jalen arrived. “Park na lang natin dito then we can walk.”

 

“Sure ka? Walking distance lang ba ‘yon?” Jalen asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Yup, let’s go?”

 

And that was that. No room for protests.

 

They walked side by side, the December air carrying just enough chill to make the city lights glow softer. For a while, it was quiet—just footsteps and the occasional car horn in the distance.

 

Then they reached a stoplight.

 

Jalen bent her head down with a sigh. “Tss, naalis yung sintas.”

 

Before she could crouch, Anaiah was already down on one knee, lacing her sneaker like it was second nature.

 

“Huy, ako na,” Jalen protested, cheeks warming.

 

“Eto na nga eh,” Anaiah replied without looking up, fingers quick and sure.

 

Jalen stood frozen, clutching the gift bag tighter. Why does this feel weirdly intimate?

 

Then, Anaiah stood, brushing off her jeans. “Akin na bag mo.”

 

“Bakit?” Jalen narrowed her eyes.

 

“Basta. Akin na.”

 

With no time to argue, Jalen handed it over. Anaiah slung the bag in front of her chest, grabbed Jalen’s hand, and tugged her forward.

 

“Wait, what—”

 

“Run!”

 

They bolted across the pedestrian lane just as the light turned green, Anaiah laughing like a maniac while Jalen stumbled behind her. Horns blared, headlights flared, but they made it across in one piece.

 

Anaiah collapsed onto the curb, panting, her laugh bubbling uncontrollably. Jalen, half-panicked and half-exasperated, smacked her arm lightly.

 

“That was fun,” Anaiah wheezed, still catching her breath.

 

“Gago ka ba?” Jalen shot back, though her lips twitched like she was suppressing a smile. “Kung kelan nag-go na yung mga sasakyan saka mo ako hinatak!”

 

Anaiah leaned her head back, grinning. “Saya nga, loosen up a bit, Jal.”

 

“Okay ka lang? Tayo na d’yan, bibili tayo ng water.” Jalen offered her hand, pulling Anaiah up.

 

“KJ mo naman,” Anaiah pouted. “Ang saya kaya!”

 

“Not when you are risking your life.”

 

They exchanged a look—Jalen’s dead serious, Anaiah’s mischievous but softening. For a moment, the world shrank to just their joined hands and the faint echo of their laughter.

 

By the time they reached Angkong, the adrenaline had faded into hunger.

 

“So… 12 siomai or 20?” Jalen asked as they stood by the counter.

 

“Twenty,” Anaiah declared.

 

“You won’t finish that.”

 

“Kung may matira, I’ll eat it. Easy.”

 

Jalen rolled her eyes, but when the platter arrived—steaming, fragrant, the chili oil glistening—they both dug in without hesitation.

 

Halfway through, Anaiah leaned on her elbow, chopsticks dangling between her fingers. “You know, simple lang ‘to… pero ang saya.”

 

Jalen paused mid-bite, her eyes meeting Anaiah’s across the table. Something in her chest tightened, and she quickly looked away, focusing on dipping her siomai.

 

“Don’t make it weird,” she muttered.

 

Anaiah just chuckled, popping another siomai into her mouth.

 

Simple. And lovely.

 

Outside Angkong, the air was cooler now, Espanya buzzing with students heading home after their own late dinners. They walked slowly, neither rushing, just side by side with the comfortable hum of traffic around them.

 

Jalen clutched the little gift bag tighter, her cheeks warm despite the cold. She cleared her throat.

 

"Thanks for the libre today! Next time sa Katips naman tayo. Libre ko."

 

Anaiah arched a brow, a sly grin tugging at her lips. "Uh huh, are you asking me? Date ba ‘to?"

 

Jalen stumbled on her words, her ears turning pink. "Hmm… if considered mo as date ‘yon, then date it is."

 

Anaiah stopped in her tracks, mock-gasping like she’d just been proposed to. “WOAH. Did the great Jalen Robles just admit she’s taking me on a date?”

 

“Shut up,” Jalen muttered, walking faster to hide her face.

 

Anaiah laughed, catching up easily. “Grabe, kinikilig ako. Sana recorded ‘yon para proof.”

 

“Delete mo na sa utak mo,” Jalen said firmly, though the corners of her lips betrayed a tiny smile.

 

Anaiah bumped her shoulder playfully. “Too late. Etched forever. My first official date with Jalen Robles, noted.”

 

Jalen groaned, but she didn’t correct her. Not this time.

 

And that, more than anything, made Anaiah’s chest flutter.

 

Chapter 10: Valentines Day

Valentine’s Day.

 

For everyone else, it was roses and chocolates, giggles in the hallway, and couples wearing color-coded outfits—white if single, red if taken, blue if “it’s complicated.” For me, it was just… Tuesday.

 

I never bought into this school’s tradition. Every February 14, the corridors turned into one big market of flowers, balloons, and teddy bears, parang Divisoria pero mas mabango. Professors pretending not to notice deliveries arriving mid-class. Girls squealing over heart-shaped chocolates. Guys awkwardly standing with bouquets, waiting for their “crush” to come out of class.

 

But me? I just wore my usual—oversized tee, denim skirt, sneakers.

 

And yet kahit wala akong effort, I couldn’t walk five steps without someone handing me something.

 

“Happy Valentine’s, Anaiah!”

“For you!”

“Crush kita, sana mapansin mo.”

 

By 10 AM, my locker was already drowning in flowers and sweets. My hands smelled like perfume and chocolate wrappers.

 

“Wala pa bang tigil?” Cassie’s voice rang as she leaned on the locker beside mine, her eyebrow cocked.

 

“Hindi pa tapos ang araw, iba ka talaga, Arceta.” Guila joined in, balancing a pile of papers in her arms while side-eyeing the growing pile in my locker.

 

I sighed, slamming the metal door shut before another random admirer could sneak something inside. “Hindi ko na alam kung saan ko ilalagay mga ‘to.”

 

Cassie smirked. “Ilabas mo nalang, ipagbenta natin. Extra income.”

 

Guila laughed. “Or ipamigay mo sa amin. Kami na lang bahala.”

 

I rolled my eyes. “Kayong dalawa talaga.”

 

Cassie wasn’t done though. Her grin widened like she’d been waiting the whole day to drop this bomb. “So… inom later?”

 

My instinct was to say yes, but I shook my head. “A lot on my plate.”

 

Her jaw dropped. “Himala? Anaiah Arceta—retired playgirl-party-goer—CHRUE??”

 

“Shut up, Cassie.”

 

“Tigil-tigilan mo ako. Hindi ka tumatanggi dati.” She poked my side. “Aba, seryoso ‘to. May dahilan.”

 

I just smiled faintly, pretending not to hear. Kasi she wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t that girl anymore. Not since…

 

Well, not since Jalen.

 

Walking down the hall with Cassie and Guila, my arms full of unsolicited flowers, I felt a pang of irony. All these bouquets, all these chocolates, all these gestures—and yet nothing felt special.

 

I used to thrive in this kind of attention. The thrill of being wanted, the rush of someone going out of their way just to catch my eye. Pero ngayon? Parang wala lang.

 

It’s not that I didn’t appreciate it. It’s just that I realized, none of these mattered if they weren’t from the person I wanted.

 

Jalen.

 

I hated admitting it, pero kahit gaano ako ka-smooth dati, kahit ilang beses akong nag “palusot” na hindi ko siya gusto, I knew I was gone for her.

 

 

By lunch, I was scrolling through my phone to distract myself when I saw the notification:

 

Delivery on the way.

 

My heart did a little flip.

 

And then, a second later—

Delivered.

 

I bit my lip, already knowing what that meant.

 

A few moments later, Cassie nudged me. “Uy, ayan na naman. Isa pa!” Another bouquet, this time bigger than the rest.

 

As expected, my phone buzzed.

 

J: Wow may pa flowers? Anong meron?

 

I smirked, typing back quickly.

 

A: Happy Valentine’s Day of course duh.

 

J: Para saan again? Bakit?

I rolled my eyes. Alam kong nag-papatay malisya lang siya.

 

A: Patay malisya, kunwari hindi aware na gusto ko siya lol.

 

It took her two minutes to reply. TWO. LONG. MINUTES.

 

J: Ha? You like me?

 

I laughed under my breath, ignoring Cassie’s suspicious stare.

 

A: Robles, para sa isang UP student… ang slow mo no?

 

J: Uh huh, paano kung may girlfriend pala ako?

 

My chest tightened a little. That was the risk, wasn’t it? But instead of backing down, I doubled down.

 

A: Easy, hiwalayan mo.

 

I stared at the screen, half-expecting her to block me after that.

 

Instead—

 

J: I’m serious.

 

So was I.

 

A: I’m serious too. Ayoko na magparaya. Kung sino man ‘yan, aagawin kita.

 

Silence. Just the blinking typing indicator teasing me.

 

And then—

 

J: You’re still annoying as ever kakainis.

 

I grinned. She didn’t say no.

 

A: And cute.

 

J: Alright.

 

My jaw dropped. Wait lang.

 

A: Wow di kumontra? So you are saying that I AM CUTE.

 

J: Nope. Sobrang baby mo ah.

 

A: YES BABY KO?

 

J: Puta.

 

I clutched my chest dramatically, even though she couldn’t see me.

 

A: Damn, you’re so hot when you curse hehe.

 

J: Walang seryosong usap sayo noh?

 

A: Oh, after mo ako murahin what if mahalin naman? Maiba lang.

 

J: Nyenyenye korni.

 

I was grinning so wide I didn’t notice Cassie peeking over my shoulder.

 

“Gago, nakangiti mag-isa?” she said, squinting. “Sino kausap mo, ha? Spill!”

 

I hugged my phone close, cheeks burning. “Wala! Wala kang nakikita!”

 

Cassie smirked like she knew. Guila raised a brow but said nothing.

 

And me? I couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off my face if I tried.

Notes:

Last update. Happy Weekend!

Chapter 11: Sunken

It’s weird how comfortable I’ve become around Anaiah. I catch myself watching the little things—the things that, at first, I probably wouldn’t have noticed if I weren’t paying attention.

 

Like her dimples. God, her dimples. They show up the moment she smiles, mischievous or sincere, and I find myself staring longer than I should. And when she scrunches her nose while laughing at something I said—or didn’t say—it’s impossible not to smile back. Her eyes, though… when she laughs so hard, they practically vanish, like the rest of the world disappears except for her.

 

She’s ridiculously persistent, annoyingly playful, always pushing me to respond to her texts, always bugging me with some random thought or challenge. And yet… beneath that relentless energy, there’s this softness, this care that I can’t ignore.

 

She opens doors for me without hesitation. Guides me carefully when we walk side by side, making sure I don’t bump into anyone or anything. She orders our food before I even realize I’m hungry, like she just knows—and then politely insists I pay, only to meticulously clean the spoon and fork with a tissue before handing it to me.

 

Her flask is always there, her water bottle tucked neatly into her bag, because she knows I barely drink water and worries I might be dehydrated. Little things. Tiny, persistent acts of care.

 

And then, there’s the text messages. The same annoying Anaiah who’ll send me a meme at 2 a.m. and then have the audacity to text me “good morning” at 6 a.m. Like… how am I supposed to stay mad at that?

 

That’s Anaiah. The girl who’s loud and overbearing, impossibly caring, infuriatingly persistent, and completely unforgettable. Somehow, I don’t want her to change. I don’t even want to notice how much I’m starting to need her.

 

Back then, I was so hesitant. First, she came from Tinder—a swipe, a random chat, a laugh over memes. And second… well, she was, undeniably, the playgirl from UST. The kind of girl whose name was whispered in corners, whose reputation made you think twice before getting involved.

 

And yet… somehow, Anaiah slowly crept into my life in the most ordinary ways. She started updating me with her schedule.

 

“Hi, pauwi na ako.”

“Umuulan dito, dyan ba? Magpayong ka.”

“Good night, baby girl hehe.”

“I miss you.”

“Plates lang ako tonight.”

 

Random little updates. Simple texts that made me feel included, like she wanted me there even in the smallest moments. And strangely, I never heard about her going out drinking with friends, which was unusual—knowing the party girl she used to be.

 

Maybe it’s too early to tell if I… like her. Maybe yes, maybe not. I don’t have a clear label in my head yet. But what I do know is this: I want to spend more time with her.

 

I was waiting for her at the Sunken Garden, phone in hand, heart doing that weird flutter thing. She said she’d pick me up at my condo, but I insisted—malapit lang naman ako sa UP.

 

I’m too excited for this. I mean… having her in my Alma Mater? My own little world colliding with hers? I didn’t even know I could feel this nervous and giddy at the same time.

 

“Hi babygirl,” she teased, appearing from behind a tree like she planned her grand entrance.

 

She was wearing a plain white tee, maong jeans, and her New Balance. Simple, casual… and too damn good. She somehow made plain look like a whole photoshoot.

 

“Tulala ka dyan, ganda ko ba? Nagpaganda ako today para maging crush mo na ako,” she said, giving me that teasing smirk.

 

Maganda ka naman talaga, my brain screamed. But nope—I did not say that out loud. Instead, I went with the safer route.

 

“Di ka na naman nakainom ng gamot mo, Anaiah.”

 

She just laughed, that laugh that made her eyes disappear and her nose scrunch in that way I was slowly memorizing.

 

“Ssshh, babygirl ang killjoy mo naman. Sige na, let's go? Date mo na ako dito sa UP.”

 

And just like that, we started our UP date.

 

 

First stop was the coffee stall nearby. She grabbed her drink and immediately started teasing me about mine.

 

“How do you like your coffee?” she asked, eyebrows raised, grin teasing.

 

“Konting sugar lang,” I said, shrugging.

 

“Kulang ka sa sweetness sa katawan, babygirl,” she said, leaning just a little closer, eyes sparkling like she knew she got to me.

 

“Ano na naman ibabanat mo? Banatan kita dyan,” I shot back, pretending to glare but failing miserably because she was already laughing.

 

 

 

⸻

 

“Wag mo akong picturan,” I said, narrowing my eyes the moment I noticed her camera aimed straight at me.

 

Anaiah just tilted her head, that mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and pressed the shutter anyway. Click.

 

“Can’t help it, ang ganda mo,” she teased, her dimples appearing as if to taunt me further.

 

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Akin na ‘yan, camera!”

 

I lunged toward her, trying to grab it, but she was quicker—raising it high above her head, tiptoeing slightly just to make it harder for me. She grinned like a kid who just won a game, the sunlight catching her hair as she laughed.

 

“Hoy, unfair!” I muttered, reaching hopelessly.

 

Then, without thinking, I moved closer, wrapped my arms around her neck, and pressed a quick kiss on her lips. The shock made her gasp, her arms falling instantly to her sides—camera and all.

 

My fingers closed around it in triumph. “Nakuha ko na,” I said breathlessly, stepping back with the camera in hand, my cheeks burning but my smirk refusing to fade.

 

“Gotcha.”

 

Anaiah blinked at me, stunned, her lips slightly parted, before she broke into a look of mock outrage. “Hoy! Ang daya mo! Foul yun!”

 

I laughed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, my pulse still racing. “Foul or not, nakuha ko. Camera’s mine now.”

 

She shook her head, still laughing, her nose scrunching adorably, her dimples deeper than ever. “Do not delete, please,” she said, her voice soft but earnest, eyes lingering on me a little too long.

 

I just grinned, holding the camera close to my chest. My heart hammered so loudly I wondered if she could hear it. I secretly loved every second of her protests, every playful push and laugh, every excuse she gave me just to keep her eyes on me.

 

 

----

 

We ended the day with her driving me back to my condo. The car was filled with the faint hum of the radio, our laughter still lingering from the Sunken Garden.

 

“Grabe,” Anaiah groaned, fanning her shirt, “feeling ko amoy pawis na ako. Hindi mo naman sinabing buong maghapon tayong magkasama.”

 

I turned to her, smiling. Even under the dim light of the street lamps, she still looked so damn good—messy ponytail, tired eyes, but dimples still peeking out when she spoke.

 

“You smell good pa naman,” I admitted before I could stop myself.

 

She froze for a split second, then that slow, teasing grin spread across her face. “Uy… inaamoy ako.”

 

I felt my ears burn. “Tse! Diyan ka na nga. Ingat pauwi!” I said, fumbling for the seatbelt like it was some kind of escape hatch.

 

“Alright, baby girl,” she laughed, clearly enjoying my flustered state. “Thanks for today!”

 

I hesitated, hand on the door handle, before looking back at her. “Wait… can you drive? Gabi na.”

 

Her eyes softened, and for once her teasing tone melted into something more sincere. “Kaya ko. Energized ako today…” she paused, glancing at me, her voice dipping just slightly, “because of you.”

 

My heart stuttered, the words hanging between us like they meant more than she was letting on.

 

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “Uminom ka ng gamot paguwi mo ha? Nababaliw ka na naman.”

 

She chuckled, dimples deepening as she leaned back on the wheel. “Goodnight, babygirl.”

 

And as I stepped out of her car, I realized my cheeks hurt—from smiling too much. From her.

 

 

Not even five minutes after she drove off, my phone buzzed. Of course. It was her.

 

Anaiah: Thanks for today ulit Ma’am! Next time remind me to bring extra clothes. Feeling ko talaga amoy pawis ako.

 

I rolled my eyes, already smiling.

 

Jalen: Keri lang, mabango ka pa din kahit gabi na.

 

Her reply came almost instantly.

 

Anaiah: BAKIT MO BA KASI ALAM

 

I bit my lip, chuckling.

 

Jalen: May ilong ako.

 

A beat. Then—

 

Anaiah: Uh right, sige na pahinga na baby girl mwaah may free pang kiss 😚

 

My chest tightened at that stupid little emoji.

 

Jalen: Bukas ulit?

 

Seconds felt like minutes before she answered.

 

Anaiah: Ehe, baby girl naman. Pilitin mo muna ako.

 

I smirked, thumbs flying over the screen.

 

Jalen: Ayoko wag na nga.

 

But before I could put the phone down, another bubble appeared.

 

Anaiah: Dali na kasi

 

My grin softened, but instead of giving in, I typed carefully, slowly—

 

Jalen: Delete mo muna Tinder mo.

 

I stared at the screen, heart racing, waiting for those three dots to appear.

Chapter 12: Call

I was lying flat on my bed, staring at the ceiling, still replaying every detail of today. The UP date. The laughter, the coffee, the teasing, the stolen kiss that left me stunned, the picnic at Sunken, and finally her driving me back to my condo.

 

It should’ve ended there. A normal night. But my phone buzzed.

 

Jalen – calling.

 

My stomach dropped. Why the hell was my heart racing like this?

 

I fumbled with my phone, panicking like a guilty kid hiding contraband. After a deep breath, I answered.

 

“Hello.” Her voice—steady, calm, but laced with something that made my chest tighten.

 

“Hi baby girl.” I croaked. My throat felt dry.

 

“Patingin kung nadelete mo na.”

 

My eyes widened. What? Wow, sigurista ang baby girl ko?

 

“Ay wait—let me call you sa iPad,” I blurted, scrambling like a criminal caught red-handed. I bolted upright, tossed my pillow aside, and rushed to grab the iPad on my desk.

 

Within seconds, I transferred the call and held up my phone to show her. The Tinder app was officially gone.

 

When her face appeared on screen, I froze. She looked unfairly pretty even through pixels. My heart skipped.

 

“Ayan, check mo,” I said quickly, flipping my phone camera so she could see my empty home screen.

 

Her eyes softened—barely, but I saw it. Then her tone sharpened again. “Why do you want me to delete ba?” I asked, trying to play it cool, but my voice cracked a little.

 

“It’s inappropriate, Anaiah,” she said, serious as hell. “We are dating. Then you have a Tinder?”

 

My jaw dropped.

 

Did she just—

 

I clutched the pillow to my chest and screamed internally. Out loud, I blurted: “Wait—we are? Seriously?”

 

Her brows furrowed, irritation flashing across her face. “Ayaw mo ba?”

 

I scrambled, trying to keep up. “Wait lang, Jalen ko… hindi ko ma-absorb.”

 

She rolled her eyes and reached toward her screen like she was about to end the call. “Bahala ka d’yan. Good night.”

 

“Wait lang! Wait lang—don’t hang up!” I yelped, leaning closer to the iPad screen as if proximity would stop her from cutting me off.

 

My chest tightened. I’ve had people confess before. I’ve had flings, hookups, casual “I like yous” that never really hit me. But Jalen saying we are dating like it was the simplest truth in the world? That was new. That was terrifying. That was… real.

 

And I wasn’t ready to let her hang up. Not yet.

 

⸻

 

She stared at me, her face calm but her eyes betrayed her. They looked hurt. That did something to me—like someone had twisted my stomach.

 

“Bakit, Anaiah?” she asked softly. “Kung ayaw mo, sabihin mo. Hindi kita pipilitin.”

 

No. No, no, no. That wasn’t it.

 

“Hindi ko naman sinasabi na ayaw ko!” I rushed, my words tripping over each other. “It’s just—hello? You drop the ‘we’re dating’ bomb like gano’n lang? Wala man lang warning? Para kang nagpa-pop quiz sa unprepared na estudyante!”

 

Her lips twitched, fighting a smile. “Oh ayan, nasabi ko na. Are we good?”

 

I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. “Wait lang… kinikilig ako.”

 

She chuckled—low and warm. That sound alone steadied my pulse. Then she tilted her head, eyes locking onto mine through the screen. “Serious ako, Aiah. I don’t do this kung hindi seryoso.”

 

My heart stuttered.

 

She doesn’t do this if she’s not serious.

 

Me? The so-called playgirl? The girl people swore never took anyone seriously? Suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

 

“Jalen…” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I’m not used to this. Ako yung usually nagpapaligaw, ako yung smooth talker, ako yung may control. Na caught off guard ako.”

 

Her gaze softened but stayed steady. “Gusto mo ba o ayaw mo?”

 

I bit my lip, nervous laughter spilling. “No! I want it. Super!”

 

She exhaled like she was unimpressed. “Sige na nga. Good night—”

 

“NO!” I nearly screamed. “Don’t you dare hang up, Jalen!”

 

She smirked, leaning closer to her camera. “Sleep na tayo. Bukas ulit?”

 

I whimpered dramatically, flopping back onto my bed. “Damn, I want to go there and hug you. Pwede ba?”

 

She blinked, silent for a beat. Then she smiled—soft, victorious, almost smug. “Shhh, tomorrow na lang hmm? Gabi na rin. Mahirapan ka magdrive.”

 

I threw my pillow at the screen. “MAMAMATAY NA TALAGA AKO SA KILIG WHY ARE YOU BEING SO SOFT THIS TIME?”

 

Her laugh came through the speaker. “Let’s sleep na.”

 

“Fine,” I muttered, sulking, though my grin gave me away. “We’re dating. Walang bawian.”

 

“Yup, we are,” she said, firm and final. “Good night, baby girl.”

 

And before I could argue, she ended the call—leaving me staring at my reflection on the dark iPad screen.

 

⸻

 

I lay there, frozen. My cheeks flushed, my hair a mess, and this stupid grin plastered on my face.

 

Tangina. Did that really just happen?

 

Me. Anaiah Arceta. The “playgirl” of UST. The girl people love to label as someone who can’t settle, who gets bored easily, who plays with fire then leaves when it burns. And yet… here I was, kicking my feet like some high schooler because Jalen basically declared we were dating.

 

And the worst part? No—the best part?

 

I didn’t hate it.

 

In fact, my chest felt… lighter than it had in a long time.

 

I rolled on my bed, muffling a scream into my pillow.

 

⸻

 

“Aiah?” Cassie’s voice cut through the walls. “Bakit parang baliw ka d’yan?”

 

I bolted upright. “Wala! Wala! May pinapanood lang ako!”

 

Her laugh rang out, unconvinced. “Kung anong pinapanood mo, ingay mo sobra.”

 

I collapsed back into bed, hugging my pillow. If only she knew.

 

The truth? I’ve never been like this. Sure, I’ve played the part. I’ve charmed, teased, even pretended to fall deeper than I ever did. But this? This felt different.

 

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the erratic beat beneath my palm.

 

“Jalen ko…” I whispered. The words felt foreign. But delicious.

 

⸻

 

Hours passed.

 

It was past 1AM, but sleep was impossible. My brain kept replaying her voice.

 

We are dating.

 

I groaned, burying my face again. Why did she have to say it like it was the most obvious truth in the world? And why did I… want it? Not just okay. I wanted it.

 

I sat up, grabbed my phone, and hovered over our chat. Should I text? Too late. Too desperate. Too… me.

 

But of course, I typed anyway.

 

Me: Jalen ko, gising ka pa?

 

Three dots appeared instantly. My heart jumped.

 

Jalen: Why are you still awake?

 

I bit my lip, smiling like an idiot.

 

Me: Hindi ako makatulog eh. May kulang.

 

A pause. Then—

 

Jalen: Ano na naman kalokohan ‘to, Anaiah?

 

I grinned. Perfect opening.

 

Me: Kulang ng goodnight kiss 😚

 

It took her longer to reply this time. My pulse raced.

 

Jalen: Makulit ka talaga. Matulog ka na.

 

Me: So wala talaga? Heartbroken ako, baby girl.

 

Jalen: Stop calling yourself heartbroken, you drama queen. May pa-goodnight kiss ka na kanina oh.

 

I squealed silently, rolling across my bed.

 

Me: Ikaw ha. Gusto mo baby akong ikiss? Bakit ka nagnanakaw ng kiss?

 

Her typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. My stomach twisted.

 

Finally—

 

Jalen: Goodnight, Anaiah.

 

I laughed into my pillow. She didn’t say yes. She didn’t say no. But she didn’t have to.

 

Me: Goodnight, Jalen ko.

 

And with that, I finally closed my eyes—still smiling, still feeling the ghost of her kiss.

 

 

I was just about to shut my eyes when my phone buzzed again.

 

One new message. From her.

 

Jalen: Also, I don’t have a girlfriend. I noticed you mentioned it before. And I miss you already.

 

My eyes flew wide open.

 

Tangina.

 

I shot up from bed, all traces of sleep gone. My heart was pounding like I just sprinted around UST. I reread the message, again and again, just to make sure my brain wasn’t fabricating things.

 

She doesn’t have a girlfriend.

 

And she misses me already.

 

My throat went dry.

 

I typed fast, thumbs shaky.

 

Me: Wait lang. Bakit mo sinend ‘to ngayong oras?

 

Her reply came quick.

 

Jalen: Kasi gusto kong malinaw. I don’t want you thinking may girlfriend ako. Ayoko na may doubt ka sa’kin.

 

My chest squeezed.

 

Me: Okay. Noted. Pero… why now?

 

This time, her typing bubble paused longer.

 

Jalen: Kasi I realized kanina, you didn’t really react nung sinabi kong “we are dating.” Parang nagulat ka lang. So ayun. I just want you to know—seryoso ako.

 

Seryoso ako.

 

My jaw literally dropped.

 

I rolled across my bed, clutching my pillow like a maniac. “Oh my god,” I whispered to myself. “Why is she like this?!”

 

I typed again, fast, before I could chicken out.

 

Me: Sira ka. Do you even realize what you’re doing to me right now?

 

Jalen: Ano?

 

Me: Making me smile like an idiot at 2 in the morning. My roommate probably thinks I’ve lost it.

 

Jalen: So you’re smiling? Good.

 

I buried my face in my pillow, squealing. The audacity of this woman.

 

Me: You miss me already?

 

Jalen: Yes. And I don’t usually say that to anyone.

 

Oh, fuck.

 

That line. That simple, deadly line. My heart was sprinting, cartwheeling, doing gymnastics.

 

“Jalen ko…” I muttered into the dark, whispering her name like it was some secret spell.

 

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t the one controlling the game. She was. And I wasn’t even mad.

 

In fact, I never wanted it to end.

Chapter 13: Dating?

And just like that, we were dating.

 

Well, not officially. No Facebook status change, no big announcement to friends, no cheesy captions under couple photos. But something shifted. Something unspoken, delicate, and thrilling. A thread tying me closer to Jalen that hadn’t been there before—or maybe it was always there, but now, I could feel it tighten with every passing day.

 

She loosened up a bit, no longer the guarded, cranky girl who barked at everyone else. With me, she was still sharp, still sarcastic—but softer, too. A softness that peeked out when she thought I wasn’t watching. A softness she probably didn’t even know she was giving away.

 

And I loved catching it.

 

Like now.

 

We were walking side by side across Sunken Garden, and the late afternoon sun was painting everything in golden hues. Jalen’s hair glowed in the light, strands swaying gently in the breeze. She kept squinting against the sun, her nose scrunching in irritation, and I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning too much.

 

I wanted to stare forever. But of course, I had to distract myself.

 

“Ang init, ‘no?” I said casually, kicking at the grass beneath my shoes.

 

“Kasalanan mo,” she replied flatly, without even glancing at me.

 

I burst into laughter. “Hala! Bakit ako may kasalanan na naman baby girl?”

 

Finally, she turned, giving me that look—eyebrows arched, lips twitching as if she was trying not to give away her amusement.

 

“Kasi ikaw ‘yung nagyaya maglakad dito. Kung nag-kape tayo, naka-aircon sana tayo ngayon.”

 

“Wow naman. Akala ko gusto mo to, mas peaceful..” I teased, spreading my arms to the wide field. “Walking. Sunken Garden. College vibes.”

 

She snorted, the sound sharp but not unkind. “Ang nami-miss ko? Tahimik. Wala kang daldal.”

 

I gasped dramatically. “Grabe ka naman sa akin!”

 

I bumped her shoulder lightly with mine, just enough to make her sway. She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t step away. She never did. And maybe that was why her words never stung—because she stayed. Because she let me in.

 

⸻

 

We found a big acacia tree and sat underneath it. The ground was cool, the shade a relief from the sun. I dropped down onto the grass, patting the spot beside me.

 

“Upo ka muna. Wag kang masyadong suplada.”

 

She arched a brow at me, her lips quirking upward just slightly. “I'm not suplada.”

 

“Sure, sabi mo eh.”

 

She sighed like she was giving in, then lowered herself beside me. She stretched her legs out, leaning back on her hands, looking like she belonged there—effortlessly beautiful, like this whole field was designed just to frame her.

 

I lay back against the grass, sneaking glances at her profile. She tilted her face toward the sky, the sunlight kissing her skin. She looked so at ease, so unguarded. My chest ached at the sight.

 

And of course, because I was me, I stared too long.

 

“Ano?” she asked suddenly, turning her head to catch me.

 

My brain blanked. “Wala.”

 

Her lips curved upward—not quite a smile, but dangerously close. “Tingin ka nang tingin. Crush mo ata ako, ah.”

 

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Buti alam mo.”

 

She chuckled, low and smug, like she had just won something. “Sinasabi ko inumin mo gamot mo.”

 

I quickly plucked a blade of grass and tossed it at her. “Kinilig ka lang.”

 

She laughed harder, her voice ringing out in the open field, and it hit me again—this was dangerous. The way she could make me feel both flustered and warm in the same breath. The way her laugh sank into my bones and made me want to hear it again and again.

 

 

 

Moments like this were confusing. This wasn’t “just hanging out” anymore. This wasn’t “just friends.” This was dating—raw, undefined, dizzying dating.

 

And it terrified me.

 

Because every little thing she did—her laughter, her comebacks, the way she slowed down when I lagged behind, the way she waited for me without a word—every little thing made me want to hope.

 

Hope for something official. Hope for something permanent. Hope for us.

 

And hope was scary.

 

 

 

The silence stretched, comfortable but heavy with thoughts I couldn’t say out loud. Then, as always, I broke it with teasing.

 

“Alam mo,” I began, pretending to sound casual, “pag official na tayo, hindi ka na pwedeng magalit sa mga banat ko.”

 

She whipped her head toward me, eyes wide. “Official? Sinong may sabi—”

 

“Eh di ikaw,” I interrupted smoothly, grinning. “Hindi mo ba nararamdaman? Parang tayo na eh.”

 

“Loko,” she muttered, shaking her head, but her cheeks betrayed her—soft pink blooming across them.

 

I leaned closer, unable to resist pushing further. “Bakit nagblush ka… kinikilig ka?”

 

“Hindi!” she said too fast, her voice pitching higher than usual.

 

I smirked knowingly. “Halata.”

 

She groaned, covering her face with both hands. The sight was so endearing I couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Gently, I tugged her hands away, her palms warm against mine. “Don’t hide,” I said softly, my voice quieter now. “Mas cute ka kapag nahihiya.”

 

Her eyes darted away, her lips pressed together in a thin line. But I saw it—the tiniest smile, trembling at the corner of her mouth.

 

And just like that, I knew.

 

I wanted to keep teasing her forever.

 

 

But teasing her wasn’t just about the banters, the jokes, the playful nudges. It was also about the little risks I took, testing the waters of her comfort, daring her to admit the things I already felt.

 

Like when I let the silence linger, then leaned closer just enough for her to notice.

 

“Jalen.”

 

She hummed in response, not meeting my eyes.

 

“Gusto mo ba talaga akong kasama?”

 

She turned, frowning at me. “Ano nanaman ‘yang drama mo?”

 

I grinned, leaning back like I wasn’t desperate for her answer. “Eh baka napipilitan ka lang. Kasi lagi kitang inaasar.”

 

Her brows knitted. “Kung napipilitan ako, edi sana hindi na kita sinasamahan, ‘di ba?”

 

Her answer hit me square in the chest. Simple. Direct. Honest.

 

I swallowed, forcing a laugh to lighten the air. “So ibig sabihin… gusto mo rin akong kasama?”

 

She didn’t answer right away. She looked down at her hands, fiddling with the grass, then gave me the faintest nod.

 

And that nod? That was everything.

 

 

 

 

The sun began to dip lower, casting the world in softer colors. My heart was restless, but my body was calm beside her. For the first time in a long time, silence didn’t scare me. Not with her here.

 

I wanted to freeze this moment, to bottle up every glance, every laugh, every blush.

 

Because if this was what dating felt like—this dizzy mix of kilig, panic, and hope—I never wanted it to end.

 

“Sa condo ko ikaw magsleep?”

 

I froze mid-step.

 

Wait. What?

 

Did… did I hear that right?

 

My brain short-circuited on the spot. JALEN ROBLES? Asking me to sleep—as in, sleep sleep—at her condo???

 

This was not on today’s itinerary. We were supposed to just hang out, walk, maybe grab food. Normal date stuff. Not this.

 

I turned my head slowly, like if I moved too fast baka maglaho bigla si Jalen. She was staring straight ahead, her face maddeningly calm, like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me.

 

“Ha?” I croaked. Smooth, Anaiah. Very smooth.

 

She finally glanced at me, one brow raised, her tone casual. “Sabi ko, sa condo ka na matulog. Para hindi ka na umuwi ng gabi.”

 

My brain: Shookt.

My heart: Kalma ka, wag kang magpahalata.

My mouth: “Uh… sure.”

 

Sure?!? THAT’S ALL I SAID??

 

I wanted to slap myself. But honestly, what else was I supposed to say? “No, thanks”?? Like I was going to pass up the chance to spend the night with her?

 

I tried to play it cool, even though my entire body was buzzing. “Eh… sigurado ka? Baka istorbo lang ako.”

 

Jalen gave me that look—sharp, unimpressed. “Kung istorbo ka, edi hindi kita inaya, ‘di ba?”

 

God. This girl. Always so blunt, always so casual—like she didn’t realize her words were slowly killing me in the best way possible.

 

I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my neck. “Teka, bakit parang biglaan ‘to? Mag make love ba tayo? Condo fun?”

 

“Ha?!?” she echoed, smirking now. “Ano namang iniisip mo?”

 

Oh no. That smirk. That dangerous smirk.

 

I held up my hands in defense. “Wala! Wala akong iniisip. Innocent ako.”

 

She rolled her eyes but I swore I saw her fighting back a laugh. “Innocent daw.”

 

I wanted to scream. Because if she only knew what was running through my head right now—if she only knew how my heart was doing somersaults at the thought of being in her space, her condo, her world—she’d never let me live it down.

 

 

 

My legs kept walking, but my brain was still back there, replaying her invitation on a loop.

 

Sa condo ko ikaw magsleep.

 

The words were simple. Straightforward. But the implications… God, the implications.

 

Sharing space. Sharing silence. Maybe even sharing a blanket?

 

I bit my lip hard, willing my imagination to calm down. Anaiah, for the love of God, wag kang assuming. Baka gusto lang niyang may kasama. Wag kang advance mag-isip.

 

But my heart didn’t listen. It never did when it came to Jalen.

Chapter 14: Sleepover

I was getting ready to head to Jalen’s condo when my phone buzzed. A message from Madison.

 

Madison—Jalen’s best friend slash minsan roommate. The same Madison who calls her babe in a way that’s supposedly platonic. (Yeah, right. Tell that to my overthinking brain at 1 a.m.)

 

 

Madison: Bring 1 bucket chicken and palabok or else di ka makakapasok dito sa condo.

 

I blinked at the screen, reread it three times, then typed back.

 

Me: ay wow may toll fee??

 

Madison: Bahala ka kung ayaw mong makapasok.

 

Me: Okay okay, I’ll bring! What else?

 

Madison: Yun lang, that’s it for me to get out of Jalen’s condo. Ako pa nga ang nawalan ng tulugan 🥲

 

 

 

I stared at the message, lips twitching. For all I knew, Madison was just being dramatic. But still, the thought of her “sacrificing” her sleep for me to take her spot beside Jalen… yeah, my brain was running laps.

 

Anaiah, kalma. It’s just a sleepover.

 

Right. Just. A. Sleepover.

 

 

Fast forward, I was at Jollibee, standing in line with a bucket of Chickenjoy and palabok in my hands, when I texted Jalen.

 

Me: Hi baby girl, I’m here at Jollibee, may gusto ka po?

 

It only took seconds for her reply to pop up.

 

Jalen: No na, punta ka na dito.

 

I grinned. Too easy.

 

Me: Huy virgin pa po ako ah.

 

A pause. Then—

 

Jalen: Wow? Pero ikaw ang nag-aalok ng “your place or mine?” Isa pa, matutulog lang tayo.

 

Oh. My. God.

 

I nearly dropped the palabok. Jalen Robles, cool and calm as ever, just threw that back at me??

 

I typed furiously, thumbs tripping over the keyboard.

 

Me: tulog lang?

 

Jalen: hmm, pwede cuddle siguro.

 

I froze. My breath caught. My stomach did this ridiculous flip that made me want to scream into the Jollibee counter.

 

Cuddle. Did she just—??

 

Me: how about kiss?

 

There. Said it. My heart was hammering so loud I thought the cashier could hear it.

 

Jalen: bakit, tayo na ba?

 

Boom. Headshot. My soul left my body.

 

My only defense?

 

Me: i was just asking okay! Chill.

 

⸻

 

By the time I got to her condo, my brain was mush. Madison opened the door before I could even knock twice, grabbed the Jollibee from my arms, and left without a word.

 

Like, literally. No “hi,” no “good luck,” just snatched the food and vanished like she was fleeing the scene of a crime.

 

Weird.

 

“Hi, andyan ka na pala.”

 

I turned, and there she was.

 

Jalen.

 

In casual PJs. Loose shorts, oversized shirt, messy bun. Effortlessly gorgeous. Murder weapon level gorgeous.

 

What the hell? Is she trying to test me??

 

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to sound normal. “Hi, baby girl. Yup. Uh—I got you… peach mango pie?”

 

Her lips quirked. “Sabi ko no need to bring na.”

 

I held the pie like an offering. “Eh… peace offering?”

 

She laughed softly, shaking her head as she motioned me inside. “Tara, let’s watch a movie bago magsleep?”

Inside, her condo was cozy—dim lights, faint scent of fabric softener, and that lived-in comfort that screamed hers. My heart thudded as I sat on the couch, clutching the peach mango pie like a lifeline.

 

“Anong movie?” I asked.

 

She shrugged, plopping down beside me with casual ease. “Kahit ano. Wag lang horror.”

 

“Bakit? Matatakutin ka pala?” I teased, leaning closer.

 

She gave me a deadpan look. “Matatakutin ka pala, eh ikaw ‘to.”

 

I grinned. “Pwede naman ako maging brave. Kung may kasama akong… cuddle buddy.”

 

Her head whipped toward me, eyes wide. “Anaiah.”

 

“Joke lang!” I said quickly, though my grin gave me away. “Unless…”

 

She groaned, grabbing the remote and shoving it into my hand. “Ikaw na mamili. Ang kulit mo.”

 

I laughed, my chest warm, my nerves buzzing. Because underneath all the banter, the truth was simple:

 

I couldn’t believe I was here. With her. In her space. About to spend the night.

 

And God, if she only knew how hard I was trying to keep it together.

 

 

 

Jalen pressed play, and the movie began, but my focus was everywhere else.

 

On how close she was sitting. On how the couch dipped slightly under her weight. On the faint scent of her shampoo every time she moved.

 

The screen flickered, some romcom I didn’t bother to register, because all my senses were locked on her.

 

Minutes passed. I shifted, pretending to find a more comfortable position, but really I just wanted to close the gap. My arm brushed hers—just a light graze—and I held my breath.

 

She didn’t move away.

 

Okay. Green light.

 

“Uy,” I whispered, leaning a bit closer.

 

“What?” she said, eyes still on the screen.

 

“Pwede ba akong…” My voice trailed, playful but nervous. “Pwede ba akong sumandal?”

 

She gave me a side-eye, lips twitching. “Aiah, ang laki mo, sasandal ka pa?”

 

“Ang harsh,” I pouted. “Sandali lang, promise.”

 

She sighed, shaking her head, but she didn’t stop me. So I slid closer, letting my shoulder rest lightly against hers.

 

God. Even that tiny bit of contact sent sparks down my arm.

 

After a few minutes, I shifted again, bolder this time. “Okay lang bang…” I hesitated, grinning. “Mag-cuddle?”

 

She turned, giving me that trademark don’t-push-your-luck look. “Matulog na lang kaya tayo?”

 

“Eh masarap nga matulog pag may ka-cuddle.”

 

Her lips pressed into a line, but the pink rising on her cheeks betrayed her. She muttered, “Ikaw talaga…” and then—she moved. She actually adjusted, lifting her arm slightly, opening up a space for me.

 

My heart almost leapt out of my chest.

 

Without wasting a second, I slid into her side, resting my head on her shoulder, my arm curling lightly around her waist. She was warm. Soft. Solid. Everything.

 

She stiffened for maybe two seconds, then slowly relaxed. Her breathing evened out, steady against me.

 

“See?” I murmured, a grin spreading across my face. “Hindi naman masama, ‘di ba?”

 

“Ewan ko sa’yo,” she muttered, but her hand—hesitant at first—rested on my arm.

 

That small gesture nearly undid me.

 

⸻

 

The movie kept playing, but I barely heard a single line. All I could think about was the rhythm of her breathing, the steady beat of her heart under my cheek, the way she fit so perfectly against me.

 

This wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t about the thrill, or about crossing lines. It was about comfort. Safety. Belonging.

 

I’d had flings before. Casual sleepovers. Nights that were supposed to feel exciting, but left me emptier in the morning.

 

But this?

 

This was different.

 

This was me curled against Jalen, my favorite person, in her space. No pressure, no pretending, no fear. Just closeness. Just us.

 

And in that quiet moment, I realized: this was so much better than sleeping with someone.

 

Because with Jalen, it wasn’t about the act. It was about her. The way she made my chest ache in the best way. The way she made me laugh, made me blush, made me feel like maybe—just maybe—I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

 

I tightened my hold around her, just slightly. She didn’t pull away.

 

I smiled into her shoulder, whispering so softly I wasn’t sure if she heard.

 

“Goodnight, baby girl.”

 

 

 

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed wasn’t the ceiling.

 

It was warmth.

 

The steady rise and fall of her chest. The way my arm was draped around her waist. The faint scent of her shampoo lingering in the air.

 

And then it hit me.

 

I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t even in my condo.

 

I was in hers.

 

In Jalen Robles’ condo. On her couch. Wrapped around her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

Tangina.

 

My eyes shot open wider, panic sparking in my chest—only to be drowned instantly by another realization.

 

She was still asleep.

 

Jalen. The ever-composed, sharp-tongued, “don’t-touch-me” Jalen… was sleeping soundly with her head resting lightly against mine. Her brows were relaxed, lips slightly parted, hair a mess against her pillow.

 

And damn it if my heart didn’t squeeze so hard it almost hurt.

 

I swallowed, staring at her like I could freeze the moment in my memory forever.

 

Because this? This wasn’t just cuddling. This was… intimate. Quiet. Domestic. The kind of closeness you couldn’t fake.

 

The kind that scared the hell out of me.

 

But also—the kind I never wanted to end.

 

 

 

I must have been staring too long, because suddenly she shifted.

 

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and confused, until they focused on me.

 

“Anaiah?” Her voice was groggy, low. God, it was unfairly sexy.

 

“Uh…” My brain short-circuited. “Good morning?”

 

Her lips quirked faintly. “Good morning, you should stop staring that's rude.”

 

I froze. “Ha? Hindi ah!”

 

She hummed, skeptical, then closed her eyes again, mumbling, “Sus, sure. Ang ingay mo. Five minutes pa.”

 

And just like that—she nestled closer. Her arm slipped around my waist, pulling me tighter against her.

 

I swear, I forgot how to breathe.

 

Lord, is this my punishment or my reward?

 

 

 

I tried to stay still, but my mind was screaming. Every nerve in my body was on high alert. I could feel the heat of her skin through her shirt, the way her breath tickled my collarbone.

 

Finally, I whispered, “Jalen?”

 

She grunted in response, eyes still closed.

 

“Alam mo bang… this is, like, ten times better than any sleepover I’ve ever had?”

 

Her brow twitched. “Sira ka ba? Natutulog lang tayo.”

 

“Exactly,” I said, grinning despite myself. “And it’s still better.”

 

She cracked one eye open, giving me that lazy glare that was more soft than sharp. “Ang aga-aga, puro ka banat.”

 

“Eh paano, ang ganda ng katabi ko.”

 

That did it. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she buried her face against my shoulder, muttering, “Tigil mo nga ’yan.”

 

But she didn’t let go.

 

 

 

Eventually, we did drag ourselves out of the couch. My hair was a mess, her shirt was wrinkled, and the whole thing felt dangerously close to… domestic bliss.

 

While she disappeared into the bathroom to freshen up, I wandered to her tiny kitchen, opening cabinets like I owned the place.

 

“Kape?” I called out.

 

“Mmm. Black,” she answered through the door.

 

“Basic girl,” I teased, pulling out the instant coffee.

 

“Heh, magkape na tayo.” she shot back.

 

I grinned, shaking my head. Even in the morning, half-asleep and cranky, she still managed to make my heart race.

By the time she came out—hair damp, smelling like soap—I had two mugs ready on the counter. She raised a brow at me.

 

“Wow, mag-asawa?”

 

“Practice lang,” I said smoothly, handing her the cup.

 

She blinked, caught off guard, before rolling her eyes. “Loko ka talaga.”

 

But she took the mug. And when our fingers brushed, she didn’t pull away.

 

 

 

Sitting across from her, sipping coffee in her condo, the morning light streaming in through the window… it was simple. Ordinary, even.

 

But to me?

 

It felt like everything.

 

Because this wasn’t about the thrill of sleeping next to someone. It was about waking up next to her. About sharing silence, coffee, stolen glances that felt like secrets.

 

And in that moment, one thought kept echoing in my head:

 

I could get used to this.

Chapter 15: Madison

I smiled as I chewed, trying to look casual, but failing miserably. Because really—how could I act normal when Jalen Robles, in all her sleepy glory, was sitting across from me, eating the breakfast she cooked herself?

 

Eggs, tapa, and sinangag. Simple. Classic. Comfort food.

 

But when it came from her hands, it might as well have been Michelin star.

 

What a wife material.

 

I couldn’t help it. The thought made me grin like an idiot.

 

“Ngingiti-ngiti ka d’yan?” Jalen narrowed her eyes at me, suspicious.

 

I leaned back, arms crossed smugly. “Wala. Pakasalan na lang kaya kita, baby girl?”

 

Her fork froze mid-air. Her cheeks colored, though she tried to cover it with a glare. “Hindi pa nga kita sinasagot.”

 

Oof. Direct hit. But the fact that she didn’t completely shut it down? Score.

 

I was about to fire back a witty retort when my phone buzzed on the table.

 

I glanced at the screen. Madison.

 

Of course.

 

With a sigh, I opened the message.

 

 

 

Madison: Nasa condo ka pa? Pwede na ba akong umuwi?

 

Me: What if maghanap ka na ng ibang house?

 

Madison: fuck you. Get out na d’yan, linisin niyo kalat niyo before you go out.

 

I smirked. Kalat? Wow, assuming.

 

Me: wala ka naman dito so walang kalat HAHAHAHAHAHA

 

A second later, her reply came through, and my grin faltered.

 

Madison: What if I told Jalen na madami kang babae sa UST?

 

My eyes widened. Putangina.

 

Before I could even process, another message dropped.

 

Madison: Hindi mo ba alam na ako ang nag-swipe right sayo?

 

I choked on my tapa.

 

“Uy!” Jalen looked up, alarmed. “Are you okay?”

 

“Y-yeah,” I coughed, waving her off, forcing a smile. “Tubig lang.”

 

She narrowed her eyes but passed me her glass anyway.

 

While she turned back to her plate, I typed furiously.

 

Me: Ayyy, sorry Mads, si Jalen ang type ko eh. Pero kung crush mo ako okay lang naman, happy crush ganun.

 

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

 

Madison: Kapal ng mukha mo.

 

I bit back a laugh, clutching my phone under the table like I was plotting a crime.

 

 

 

When I looked up, Jalen was still watching me, brows furrowed.

 

“Kanina ka pa ngingisi. Ano na naman kalokohan ’yan?” she asked, sipping her coffee.

 

“Wala, wala,” I said quickly, stuffing more rice in my mouth. “Just… happy lang ako.”

 

She raised a brow, unconvinced.

 

But the corner of her lips curved—just a little. Like maybe, despite her suspicion, she didn’t really mind my grin.

 

My fork hovered mid-air, eyes glued to Madison’s message.

 

Hindi mo ba alam na ako ang nag-swipe right sayo?

 

What. The. Hell.

 

I blinked at the words, my brain going haywire.

 

Wait lang. Back up. Rewind.

 

Madison. Jalen’s best friend. The one who calls her babe in that casual, platonic (daw) way. The one who opened the door for me last night, grabbed the Jollibee, and disappeared like she was escaping from prison.

 

She swiped right… on me?

 

I set my fork down, staring blankly at my tapa like it suddenly held all the answers.

 

Why would she do that?

 

Sure, I’m not exactly… pangit. Okay fine, may konting appeal naman siguro ako. Pero si Madison? She’s smart, confident, way too friendly for her own good. She could swipe right on literally anyone.

 

And yet she picked me?

 

Was it a joke? Curiosity? Or—oh my god—was she testing me for Jalen??

 

I felt my stomach drop.

 

Could this be one of those “best friend loyalty checks” na naririnig ko lang sa mga teleserye? Like, swipe right muna sa potential girlfriend to see kung loyal siya?

 

But then… Madison did call me “kapal ng mukha mo.” Which sounded less like a test and more like… inggit?

 

Wait. Ingget?

 

My eyes widened at the thought.

 

Does that mean—she liked me?

 

No, no, no. Bad idea. Abort mission. Madison? Crushing on me? That’s disaster territory. That’s like playing tong-its with dynamite.

 

Because if it were true—if Madison actually liked me—then what did that mean for Jalen?

 

I stole a glance at the girl across from me.

 

Jalen was busy with her coffee, her lashes casting soft shadows on her cheeks. She looked so peaceful, so unbothered, so… mine.

 

My chest ached.

 

No. Even if Madison swiped right, even if she had a tiny crush… Jalen’s the one I want.

 

That much was clear.

 

Still… a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder.

 

Why swipe me, of all people?

 

Was it just coincidence? Or was Madison hiding something behind that chaotic, “babe-babe” dynamic with Jalen?

 

The thought made me squirm.

 

 

 

“Ano na naman ’yang iniisip mo?”

 

I snapped out of my spiral. Jalen was staring at me, one brow raised, fork poised like she was about to interrogate me.

 

“Ha? Wala!” I said too quickly, too defensively.

 

Her lips quirked. “Sure. Mukha ka ngang wala.”

 

I forced a laugh, waving my hand. “Promise, wala lang. Nag-zoned out lang ako.”

 

But inside? My brain was still screaming.

 

Why, Madison? Why swipe right on me?

 

And more importantly—

 

What the hell are you planning now?

 

 

“Finish your food then we go somewhere,” Jalen said casually, sipping her coffee like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb.

 

I blinked. “Huh? Wala naman tayong date today? Wala akong extra clothes, baby.”

 

Her lips curled slightly, amused. “Pantulog lang talaga dala mo?”

 

“Yup.” I grinned, half-proud, half-teasing. “You want, we stay here na lang? Then movies ulit?”

 

She leaned back in her chair, eyes glinting like she was studying me. “You want snacks?”

 

“Uh…” She tapped her chin, pretending to think. “What if magluto ako ng lasagna?”

 

My jaw dropped. “You can?”

 

Her smirk widened. “Yes. Sige, I’ll cook.”

 

 

 

Fast forward, the condo smelled like heaven. The lasagna came out bubbling, the cheese perfectly golden. I swear, if I wasn’t already crushing hard, this woman’s cooking skills alone would’ve done me in.

 

We were halfway through demolishing the pan when there was a knock at the door.

 

And then—

 

“WHAT’S UP MGA POKPOK!” Madison screamed, bursting inside with her eyes squeezed shut like some cartoon character.

 

I nearly choked on my bite. Jalen calmly set her fork down, unfazed.

 

“Nakadamit ba kayo?” Madison asked, still covering her eyes.

 

Without missing a beat, Jalen deadpanned, “Nakahubad si Anaiah.”

 

My fork clattered on my plate. “WHAT THE FUCK, Jalen?!”

 

She burst out laughing, the sound rich and unguarded, and damn it—I laughed too, even while glaring at her.

 

“Kidding,” she said, still chuckling. Then, to Madison: “Ba’t ngayon ka lang umuwi?”

 

Madison groaned, rolling her eyes. “Alam mo, putangina niyong dalawa.”

 

 

 

Later, when the chaos died down and Madison was distracted with her portion of lasagna, Jalen reached for my hand under the table.

 

It was subtle, deliberate, and enough to send my heart into overdrive.

 

By the time we got up to head to her room, our fingers were already intertwined.

 

I didn’t even care if Madison was right behind us when she muttered, “Holding hands pa nga. Kadiri.”

 

Jalen squeezed my hand tighter.

 

I smiled to myself. Because yeah, maybe to Madison it was “kadiri.” But to me?

 

It felt like the start of something dangerously, beautifully real.

 

Chapter 16: Swipe right

Life has been good lately.

 

School.

Side hustle.

No love life.

 

I tell myself I’m fine. Content. Stable. Who needs love when you’ve got endless group projects and a best friend who steals your fries without asking?

 

And then one night, everything shifted.

 

It wasn’t even supposed to happen. I was just hanging out at Jalen’s condo, bored while she was getting the Pizza on the lobby. Her phone was there, unlocked — I download Tinder, just because. 

A harmless prank.

Left.

Left.

Another left.

 

Until a familiar face stopped me cold.

 

Aiah.

Anaiah.

 

Five years vanished in an instant. I was sixteen again, remembering the girl I once knew, the girl who slipped through my fingers because I didn’t know what to do with the way she made me feel.

 

And now she was back. On my best friend’s phone. On Tinder.

 

I froze. My thumb hovered over the screen, torn between instinct and impulse.

 

Logic said: swipe left. Pretend I never saw her.

 

But my heart — traitorous, reckless heart — whispered: don’t waste this.

 

So I swiped right.

 

On Jalen’s account.

 

Not mine. Hers.

 

The screen lit up: It’s a match!

 

I swear my pulse tripled. I stared at it, a mix of panic and something dangerously close to excitement.

 

Because what did that mean?

 

That Anaiah was still out there, still open, still someone I could—no. I pushed the thought away.

 

This wasn’t fate. This was an accident. A stupid joke. A swipe that wasn’t even mine.

 

And yet…

 

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

 

About her.

About how it felt to see her name again.

About how, after all this time, some part of me still wanted to know what would happen if we crossed paths again.

 

I swiped right “just because.”

 

But deep down, I knew it wasn’t just.

It was everything I never admitted to Jalen.

Everything I thought I’d buried.

 

And now, Anaiah was back in our lives — not because of destiny, but because of me.

 

And maybe, just maybe, that was the biggest mistake I’d ever made.

Chapter 17

The thing about late-night calls with Jalen is that they always start ordinary.

 

One second we’re talking about food — her eternal debate about which Jollibee meal is supreme (I insist palabok, she swears by burger steak) — and the next, we’re arguing over who gets to drive on the weekend.

 

That night wasn’t any different.

 

“Are we going home this weekend, baby?” I asked, twirling a strand of hair around my finger as I lay flat on my bed. My room was dim except for the soft glow of my lamp, but her voice filled the space like it always did.

 

Her laugh was soft, a little tired. “Freeloader mo naman, love.”

 

I stilled.

 

Love.

 

She says it sometimes. We say it sometimes. Baby, love, mahal, random endearments thrown in between banters, always playful. But every time it slipped out, it left a dent in me.

 

“Hoy,” I teased, grinning at the ceiling, “sorry na. Allow me to drive na lang. I’ll bring my car instead of yours. Is it okay?”

 

“No, okay lang naman. Ako mag-drive.”

 

I could imagine her shrugging, like it wasn’t a big deal. But to me it was. She carried things too easily, and I hated that she thought she always had to.

 

“Awww. Pag ako nasanay ah?” I sang, tone teasing.

 

Her answer was quick, sharp, but playful. “Edi masanay ka.”

 

And I laughed because that was her. Always brushing things off, always keeping her walls high even as she let me peek over them.

 

But then—

 

Like lightning splitting the sky.

 

Her voice softened. Almost unsure. “Pwede bang mag ‘I love you’? :( ”

 

The world stopped.

 

I froze, my heart clawing up my throat. My fingers dug into my blanket, my breath caught.

 

Did she just…?

 

I swallowed hard, my voice trembling as I whispered, “Only if you mean it, baby. :( ”

 

There was silence. Long. Heavy. My chest ached with it. I almost thought she’d laugh it off, say she was joking, switch the topic like she always did when my teasing went too far.

 

But then she spoke.

 

Steady. Bare. True.

 

“Mahal na kita, Anaiah.”

 

—

 

The words cracked something open in me.

 

I’d been teased before, flirted with, even “loved” by people who never stayed. And after my ex ghosted me — no closure, no goodbye — I told myself I’d stopped believing in love declarations. They always sounded pretty until they vanished.

 

But this?

 

This was Jalen.

 

The same Jalen who rolled her eyes at my corny jokes but still laughed when she thought I wasn’t looking.

The same Jalen who remembered the small things — what drink I liked, when I had exams, the way I hated long silences.

The same Jalen who pretended she wasn’t soft but held me like I was something fragile.

 

And now she was saying she loved me.

 

Not playfully. Not sarcastically. Not half-meant.

 

Real.

 

Raw.

 

My chest felt like it was caving in.

 

“Jalen…” I breathed her name, too quietly, as if saying it any louder would break the spell.

 

On the other end, she laughed nervously. “Ayan, natahimik ka. Huwag mong sabihin na natakot ka.”

 

“Hindi ako natakot,” I shot back, my voice cracking, betraying me.

 

I pressed a hand over my mouth, muffling the sound of my uneven breathing. My eyes stung, my pulse erratic.

 

“Then…?” she asked softly.

 

I swallowed. “I just—hindi ako ready marinig ‘yon.”

 

Another silence. Then, her voice, steadier now: “Pero totoo, Anaiah. Mahal na kita. Hindi ko alam kung paano nangyari. Basta—when I’m with you, everything feels lighter. And when I’m not, I keep looking for you. Tapos kapag kausap kita, parang wala nang iba.”

 

Tears slid down my cheeks before I even realized. God, what was she doing to me?

 

“Jalen…” I whispered again, shaky.

 

“You don’t have to say it back,” she added quickly. “Alam kong mabilis. Alam kong hindi tayo official. Pero I can’t keep it in anymore. I love you, Aiah.”

 

And just like that, the walls I swore I built came crashing down.

 

I laughed through the tears, broken and breathless. “Tangina, Jalen. Ano ba ‘tong ginawa mo sa akin?”

 

“Ha?” she said, confused, her voice panicked.

 

“You’re making me fall even harder.”

 

There was silence—then her laugh. That laugh I loved, soft and disbelieving, like she didn’t think she deserved to feel this way.

 

And maybe neither did I. But damn, it was too late now.

 

—

 

The hours after blurred.

 

We talked. We joked. I teased her, of course — it was my defense, my way of surviving the overwhelming swell of emotions threatening to drown me.

 

“So, ibig sabihin, pwede na akong manghingi ng kisses kahit hindi pa official?” I teased.

 

She groaned, “Anaiah…”

 

“Pwede na rin akong magpa-holding hands sa public, right?”

 

Her exasperated sigh was so endearing I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing too hard.

 

“And pwede na rin akong magpakiss sa forehead tuwing goodnight?”

 

“Susuntukin kita,” she muttered. But her laugh gave her away.

 

I grinned into the phone. “Ay, halata namang kinikilig ka.”

 

“Shut up,” she whispered, voice soft now.

 

But I could hear it — the smile she couldn’t hide.

 

And I realized then: this wasn’t a joke anymore. This wasn’t just playful endearments thrown around for fun.

 

This was love.

 

Her love.

 

And mine, too — even if I was still too scared to say it out loud.

 

—

 

That night, I didn’t want to hang up.

 

Neither did she.

 

We fell asleep still on the call, the silence between us no longer heavy, but comforting.

 

And as I drifted off, I thought to myself:

 

So this is what it feels like to be loved back.

 

 

 

We got home by 11:34 PM.

 

Jalen dropped me off, headlights bathing our gate in pale yellow. Just as I was about to tell her, “Ingat pauwi,” my dad appeared, still in his house clothes, holding the gate open.

 

“Si Jalen ‘yun?” Papa squinted, probably recognizing the car before the face.

 

“Yes, Pa,” I said, stepping out.

 

“Dito mo na patulugin, gabi na,” Papa said casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb of kilig into my system.

 

“Okay lang, Pa?” I asked, my voice higher than usual.

 

“Oo naman. Bukas mo na umaga pauwiin,” he said, waving like it was no big deal.

 

No big deal? Excuse me, Papa, pero this is a very big deal.

 

I turned back to Jalen, who was still inside the car, hand on the wheel, eyes wide and tired. Exhausted. And maybe… flustered?

 

I leaned closer to her window. “Love, dito ka na daw matulog sabi ni Papa. We’ll eat dinner then sleep. Okay lang ba?”

 

She blinked at me, processing. Then finally nodded, lips tugging into a small smile. “Okay lang.”

 

My heart did a somersault.

 

—

 

Inside, Mom had already left some dinner on the table: adobo, sinigang, and still-warm rice. Jalen tried to politely decline, saying busog na siya, but Papa gave her the look—the kind of look na tipong “sa bahay ko, kakain ka.”

 

So ayun, we sat side by side, eating quietly while my parents watched TV in the sala.

 

I leaned closer to whisper, “Kinakabahan ka?”

 

She raised her brow. “Bakit ako kakabahan?”

 

“Kasi, love, unang overnight mo dito. First time mo matulog sa bahay namin. Pakiramdam ko makikita na ni Papa lahat ng kasalanan ko sa buhay.”

 

She chuckled, softly enough para hindi marinig sa sala. “Ang dami mong drama.”

 

“Drama? Excuse me, this is a milestone,” I said, stabbing a piece of adobo. “Para kang contestant na pinapasok sa bahay ni Kuya.”

 

Jalen nearly spit out her rice trying not to laugh.

 

And just like that, the exhaustion in her eyes shifted into something else. Something softer.

 

—

 

Later, after we said goodnight to my parents, I led her upstairs to my room. My heart was pounding like a drumline.

 

She sat on the edge of my bed, looking around. “So this is your lair.”

 

“Lair? Grabe ka, parang villain lang,” I said, tossing her a pillow.

 

She caught it with ease. “Villain ka kasi. Lagi mo akong inaasar.”

 

“Pero loveable villain, admit it.”

 

She just rolled her eyes and kicked off her shoes.

 

I climbed into bed beside her, pretending it was the most normal thing in the world. But inside? My brain was screaming. Jalen Robles. In my room. Sleeping over. With my parents just downstairs. Lord, this is it.

 

“Love?” I whispered, once the lights were off.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Kinakabahan ako.”

 

“Bakit?”

 

“Eh kasi baka mapanaginipan kita tapos maiyak ako sa kilig.”

 

She chuckled in the dark. “Baliw ka talaga.”

 

Then, softly, she pulled the blanket over both of us.

 

And when her hand brushed mine under the sheets, I swear—sleep had never felt this much like heaven.

 

 

We were already tucked under the blanket, the house unusually quiet. My parents had gone to bed after their teleserye, the neighborhood was asleep, and it was just the sound of the electric fan humming in the corner.

 

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Jalen. In my room. Sleeping beside me. Legally approved by my dad pa!

 

My heart was racing so hard, I was worried she might hear it.

 

“Love?” I whispered into the dark.

 

She hummed softly, already sounding half-asleep.

 

“Ang weird, no?”

 

“Ang alin?”

 

“Na nandito ka. Dito sa kwarto ko. Like… dati nananaginip lang ako na mangyayari ‘to.”

 

There was a pause. Then she chuckled. “Nanaginip ka na about me?”

 

My face heated instantly. “Wag mo na itanong kung anong klaseng panaginip, love.”

 

She turned on her side to face me, and even with just the faint glow of the nightlight, I could see her grin. “Ah ganun? Rated SPG ba ‘yan?”

 

“Hoy!” I lightly smacked her arm with a pillow, and she laughed—quiet but full. God, that laugh.

 

“Okay fine,” she said, still teasing. “Ako rin naman eh. Napapanaginipan kita.”

 

I froze. “…totoo?”

 

“Mmhm.” She shifted closer, her hand brushing mine under the blanket. “Pero sa akin… hindi siya rated SPG.”

 

My voice went small. “Ano, PG lang?”

 

“PG,” she whispered, her voice dropping softer now. “Kasi sa panaginip ko… humihingi ako ng kiss.”

 

My entire system short-circuited.

 

“Eh bakit sa panaginip lang?” I blurted out before my brain could stop me.

 

She went quiet. Just the sound of her breathing, steady, calm—unlike mine that was doing Olympic sprints.

 

Then, so softly I almost thought I imagined it, she whispered, “Pwede ba ngayon?”

 

My throat went dry. “Pwede…”

 

We were both still. Like the world was holding its breath. Then, slowly, she leaned in, closing the little distance between us.

 

Her lips touched mine, feather-light, tentative. Just a brush. But it was enough to send sparks shooting through every nerve in my body.

 

I kissed her back, gently at first, then a little firmer, afraid but wanting more. Her hand found mine under the blanket, fingers lacing with mine, grounding me in the middle of all the chaos in my chest.

 

When we pulled away, I was breathless. And smiling like a fool.

 

“Love,” I whispered. “Parang di ako makakatulog nito.”

 

She grinned, eyes soft, cheeks flushed. “Hmm, oa mo.”

 

And with that, she tucked herself closer against me, her head resting on my shoulder. My heart was still racing, but at least now, she could hear it—because maybe she needed to know just how much space she was already taking up inside me.

 

That night, I realized something.

 

Sleeping with someone is easy. Pero sleeping with Jalen, after sharing our legal first kiss? That felt like coming home.

 

 woke up to the smell of garlic rice.

 

At first, I thought it was just a dream. But when I opened my eyes, Jalen was still beside me, curled up under the blanket, hair falling into her face.

 

My chest tightened.

 

So it wasn’t a dream.

She really kissed me last night.

 

I bit back a smile. Honestly, I wanted to freeze that moment forever—her soft lips, the way her hand squeezed mine, the quiet after we pulled away. It was simple. Gentle. But it was ours.

 

“Staring ka na naman,” Jalen mumbled, her voice groggy. She didn’t even open her eyes.

 

I gasped. “Hindi ah!”

 

“Mmhm,” she hummed, smirking against the pillow. “Lagi ka na lang nahuhuli.”

 

“Eh kasi naman, ang cute mo matulog,” I teased, poking her cheek.

 

“Edi matulog ka rin para fair,” she said, grabbing the pillow and burying her face in it.

 

I laughed, leaning closer to whisper, “Love, good morning.”

 

She peeked at me with one eye, hair messy, lips still swollen from last night’s kiss. “Good morning, love.”

 

And just like that, kilig washed over me all over again.

 

 

 

We went downstairs together, and sure enough, Mom was already setting the table. Papa was reading the newspaper like it was 1995, humming as if he didn’t notice us sneaking into the kitchen.

 

But of course, he noticed.

 

“Good morning,” Papa said, looking over his glasses. “Ayos tulog?”

 

“Good morning po,” Jalen said politely, scratching the back of her neck.

 

Papa raised his brow. “Sigurado ka bang tulog lang?”

 

I almost choked. “Pa!”

 

Jalen coughed into her hand, obviously trying not to laugh.

 

Mom just shook her head, hiding a smile. “Hay naku, ikaw talaga. Kain na nga kayo.”

 

We sat down, and I swear, I could feel my entire face burning. Jalen, on the other hand? She looked completely calm, even when she started piling rice and tapa on my plate like she owned the place.

 

“Love, kain ka na,” she said casually.

 

My fork froze. Did she just—

 

Papa looked up from his paper. “Love?”

 

I kicked Jalen under the table. She didn’t even flinch, just grinned at me.

 

“Yes po, love ko siya,” she said, straight-faced.

 

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. “Jalen!”

 

Papa chuckled. “Ayos. At least marunong kang umamin.”

 

Mom gave me a knowing look, like this girl is different, and I had to look away before I melted into the floor.

 

 

 

After breakfast, when we went back upstairs to grab her stuff, I lightly smacked her arm. “Love? Talaga ba?”

 

She tilted her head, pretending to think. “What? Di ba totoo naman?”

 

“Hindi pa nga tayo official!”

 

“Eh anong tawag sa kiss kagabi?” she asked, smirking.

 

My brain short-circuited. “H-hoy!”

 

She stepped closer, close enough that my back hit the door. “Aminin mo, love. Na-enjoy mo.”

 

I gulped, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Maybe…”

 

She grinned, leaning in just enough to make my knees weak. “Good. Kasi gusto ko ulitin.”

 

And before I could protest, she kissed me again—quick, sweet, but enough to send my heart tumbling all over the place.

 

I realized then that this wasn’t just kilig. This was already something deeper. Something I was dangerously ready to fall into.

 

 

When Jalen kissed me against the door, it wasn’t firework-level dramatic, but it was enough to turn my knees into noodles. Sweet. Gentle. A little teasing—like her lips knew I was already nervous but kissed me anyway.

 

And then we broke apart, both catching our breaths.

 

I laughed awkwardly. “Grabe, loser natin.”

 

Her forehead rested against mine, her lips still brushing mine as she whispered, “Loser… kasi?”

 

“Eh kasi,” I said, my voice shaky, “nagki-kiss tayo pero hindi pa natin alam kung tayo na ba talaga.”

 

She grinned, tilting her head, and kissed me again. Short. Quick.

 

“Eh… tayo na ba?” she asked softly in between.

 

I blinked. “Ano? Ang labo mo.”

 

She kissed me again, slower this time. “Tayo na ba?”

 

I giggled, clutching her shirt. “Eh ikaw, gusto mo ba?”

 

Another kiss, longer now, like she was trying to answer without words.

 

Then she pulled back just enough to say, “Oo, gusto ko.”

 

My heart somersaulted. “Eh di… tayo na?”

 

She laughed, kissing me once more. “Tayo na.”

 

And just like that, in between stolen kisses, whispered questions, and the kind of laughter only two losers in love could share—Jalen Robles officially became mine.

 

I pulled her in again, this time braver, letting the kiss linger. And when we finally broke apart, both breathless, both smiling, I knew this was it.

 

We weren’t just dating. We weren’t just almost.

 

Kami na.

Kami na talaga.

 

Chapter 18: Sunflowers

I still can’t believe that we are together now.

 

That I am here, sitting pretty in the passenger seat, claiming the title of passenger princess without shame—because Jalen lets me. No, scratch that. Because Jalen wants me to.

 

And she’s here, one hand on the steering wheel, the other casually holding mine like it’s second nature. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to drive while my fingers are tangled with hers.

 

She doesn’t even look at me. Eyes on the road. Lips pressed in that familiar straight line. Completely unaware that I am quietly combusting beside her.

 

She has no idea. No idea that she’s driving me crazy without even trying.

 

Jalen ko.

 

I bit my lip, trying to hide my smile, leaning my head against the window as if that could help calm my heart. But of course, Jalen being Jalen, she found a way to ruin my moment of daydreaming.

 

“So… pang ilang girlfriend mo ako?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes flicking toward me for a split second before returning to the road.

 

I blinked. What kind of timing is this, Robles?

 

“Ha?”

 

“Girlfriend. Ako. Pang-ilan ako?” she pressed, squeezing my hand like she was interrogating me with skin contact.

 

I pursed my lips, pretending to think. “Hmm… first.”

 

Her brow arched. “Weh?”

 

I laughed, turning toward her. “Oo, love, I swear. Ikaw ang first.”

 

She clicked her tongue, unconvinced. “Sure ka? Wala ka talagang nakarelasyon before?”

 

I shook my head. “None. Ikaw lang.”

 

For a moment, her lips curved upward, and I caught it—the tiniest smile she thought I wouldn’t notice.

 

But of course, Jalen can’t let the kilig last too long.

 

“Hmm… e pang ilang kiss mo ako?”

 

I groaned dramatically, throwing my head back against the seat. “Let’s not… talk about it, love.”

 

Her laughter filled the car, low and smug. The kind of laugh that said she already had her suspicions and was just waiting for me to admit them.

 

God, she was insufferable. And I adored her for it.

 

⸻

 

I turned my gaze toward the window, but really, I was staring at our reflection in the glass. At the way her hand fit with mine. At how her thumb absentmindedly brushed my skin, up and down, like it was muscle memory.

 

It hit me again—how terrifyingly easy it was to fall for her.

 

And how, every single day, I kept falling harder.

 

Back then, I thought crush lang. Maybe infatuation. Something fleeting. But now? Now that she was here, driving me home, holding my hand like I was hers…

 

No, this wasn’t fleeting. This was the kind of love that stuck.

 

The kind that grew roots.

 

⸻

 

“Hoy,” she said suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Bakit tahimik ka? May iniisip ka na namang kalokohan.”

 

I smirked, tilting my head toward her. “Saka na lang sasabihin.”

 

Her brow lifted, curious. “Ano nga?”

 

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping. “Iniisip ko… kung gaano ako kaswerte na ikaw ang first ko.”

 

She froze for half a second, grip tightening slightly on my hand. Then she cleared her throat, eyes darting back to the road. “Ang corny mo.”

 

“Corny pero totoo,” I shot back, grinning.

 

And just like that, I saw her ears turn pink.

 

 

 

The drive stretched on, soft music playing in the background, the kind that made everything feel cinematic. And the longer I sat there, the more memories played in my head.

 

“Love,” I whispered, squeezing her hand.

 

She hummed in response, still focused on the road.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

 

“For being here. For choosing me. For… holding my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

 

She scoffed lightly, but her thumb kept brushing against my skin. “Daldal mo.”

 

I leaned back, smiling to myself. “Oo na. Pero love, seryoso… mahal na mahal kita.”

 

This time, she looked at me. Really looked. And that soft, quiet smile spread across her face again—the kind she only ever gave me.

 

“I know,” she whispered. “Mahal din kita.”

 

And just like that, I fell in love with her all over again.

 

 

 

“Gusto mong mag-jogging tayo bukas ng umaga?”

 

I blinked. Hard.

 

Of all the sentences I expected to come out of Jalen Robles’ mouth tonight, that was not on the list.

 

Jogging?

 

Jalen? Jogging?

 

This girl—who literally complains about walking from the condo to 7/11—was now casually suggesting an early morning run?

 

I turned my head slowly, suspicious. “Diba… ayaw mo?”

 

Her lips twitched, like she was trying not to smile. “I’m asking you nga, love.”

 

And just like that, my heart melted. Again.

 

Putangina naman, Anaiah. Get a grip.

 

I covered my face with one hand dramatically. “Ang lambing mo naman, nakakainis!”

 

Her brows shot up. “Sige wag na, Anaiah.”

 

I gasped, instantly removing my hand to glare at her. “No, hindi! Love ako!”

 

Her smirk widened, smug and evil, like she already knew I’d give in. “So ano, jogging bukas?”

 

I groaned, defeated. “Sige, love.”

 

She grinned triumphantly, squeezing my hand. And right there, I realized something terrifying:

 

Jalen Robles could literally ask me to run a marathon tomorrow, and I would.

Not because I liked running. But because it was her.

 

Because it was Jalen.

 

And somehow, somewhere between her soft tone and that little smile, she turned jogging—a thing I hated—into something I was suddenly looking forward to.

 

Not the exercise. Not the sweat. Not the sore legs.

 

But the thought of jogging beside her.

Of watching her pretend to hate it while secretly enjoying my company.

Of her letting me win just so she could tease me after.

 

God. I was whipped.

 

 

She dropped me off.

 

The headlights from her car washed over the front gate, and for a moment, I just sat there, holding her hand like it was the only thing keeping me steady.

 

“See you tomorrow?” Jalen asked, her voice low, soft, almost like she was testing me.

 

I squeezed her hand tighter. God, I didn’t want to let go yet. “Mamimiss kita agad, kainis.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Honest. Raw.

 

She laughed lightly, the kind that always makes my chest tighten. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

 

Baby.

 

Do you know what that does to me? Hearing it from her lips?

It’s like she has no idea how dangerous she is. Driving me crazy with the simplest things—like holding my hand while driving, like looking at me with that half-smile, like saying baby as if it belonged only to me.

 

I wanted to pull her closer right there in the car. I wanted to kiss her again, memorize her, make sure the space between tonight and tomorrow wouldn’t feel so wide.

 

But instead, I slowly let go of her hand, already aching from the absence, and forced myself to step out.

 

As I turned back to close the gate, she was still looking at me. Her fingers drumming softly on the steering wheel, her lips curved up in the kind of smile that promised tomorrow would come faster than I thought.

 

And God—

 

Tomorrow suddenly felt like my favorite word.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just when I thought I had Jalen figured out—her sarcasm, her grumpiness, her selective sweetness—ibahin niyo siya ngayon.

 

Because today, she wasn’t her usual half-smile, “I don’t care” self. Today, she was standing outside my department building, in full view of everyone, holding a bouquet of sunflowers.

 

Yes. Sunflowers.

 

And yes. She was waiting for me.

 

My phone buzzed right after class ended, with her message: Outside your building. Come out.

 

I rushed out, half-expecting her to just be leaning against her car in her usual “cool-girl” pose. Pero hindi. What I saw made me stop dead in my tracks.

 

There she was—my girlfriend—looking slightly out of place in the middle of the campus crowd, clutching a bouquet like she wasn’t the same girl who once said, “Corny ang flowers, wag ka bibili niyan ha.”

 

I swear I heard the collective gasp of three random girls beside me.

 

“What are you doing here? Sabi mo may class ka until 5pm?” I asked, my voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

 

She shrugged, handing the flowers to me as casually as if she were passing me a notebook. “Uh, nag-suspend ng class soooo pinuntahan kita instead.”

 

I blinked down at the flowers, then back at her. “Now my turn to ask, bakit may pa-flowers?”

 

She tilted her head, lips twitching upward. “Don’t tell me… you forgot our monthsary?”

 

My stomach dropped.

 

Shit.

 

Okay. I was doomed.

 

I forced a nervous laugh, hugging the sunflowers against my chest like maybe they could shield me from her glare. “Uh… surprise?”

 

Her eyes narrowed, amused but not letting me off the hook.

 

We started walking toward the parking lot where my car was parked. And of course, kasi malas ko talaga minsan, a few familiar voices called out along the way.

 

“Anaiah, takits sa party mamaya?”

“Hi Anaiah!”

“Uy, di ka na sumasama sa inuman ah!”

“Hi ganda.”

 

I smiled politely at them, waving, but when I turned back to Jalen—she was no longer smiling.

 

Her face had darkened, her jaw clenched tight. Uh-oh.

 

And then she stopped walking.

 

“Akina yang bag at gamit mo,” she said firmly.

 

My eyes widened. “H-ha? Bakit—”

 

Her gaze shut me right up. Out of pure instinct (and fear), I handed over my bag. She slung it on her shoulder without another word, then reached for my hand—gripping it tightly.

 

So tight na parang sinasabi niyang, “Mine. Back off, lahat kayo.”

 

And honestly? My heart flipped at the gesture. Selosa naman ng baby girl ko.

 

By the time we got into my car, she still hadn’t said a word. She just stared out the window, silent and broody.

 

The silence was heavy, filling the space between us. I reached for her free hand, squeezing it gently.

 

“Are you okay, love?” I asked softly. “I’m sorry. I was so preoccupied today I really forgot what date it was, honestly. I’ll make bawi. Saan mo gusto mag-celebrate?”

 

Still nothing.

 

I sighed, leaning closer, trying to catch her eyes. “Hey, love…”

 

Finally, she turned to me. Her lips were pursed in a pout, her brows drawn together in that way that made her look both annoyed and ridiculously adorable.

 

“Can we get out of here na lang?” she muttered. “Dami-daming nagpapapansin sayo.”

 

My chest tightened. Oh my God. She was sulking. Because of the random greetings.

 

I couldn’t help it—I grinned, trying not to laugh. “Wait lang… selos ka ba?”

 

She instantly snapped, “Hindi.”

 

Her denial was too quick, too defensive.

 

I raised a brow, smirking. “Selos ka nga.”

 

“Hindi nga,” she repeated, glaring at me. But the way her fingers were still gripping mine told me otherwise.

 

“Hmm. Sure ka?” I teased, leaning closer. “Kasi parang… cute mo pag nagseselos eh.”

 

She groaned, slumping against her seat, but her cheeks were already pink.

 

I squeezed her hand again. “Love, they’re just friends. Casual lang yun. Wala silang laban sa’yo.”

 

Her eyes flicked toward me, softening just slightly. “Eh bakit lahat sila bati sayo? Hi Anaiah dito, hi Anaiah doon. Kala mo artista ka.”

 

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Eh kasi ikaw yung leading lady ko. Kung artista man ako, ikaw ang kasama ko sa pelikula.”

 

That finally earned me a small, reluctant smile.

 

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Happy monthsary, love. Sorry talaga nakalimutan ko. Bawi ako, promise.”

 

She sighed, finally meeting my gaze. “Bawi ka ha.”

 

“Always,” I said softly.

 

And just like that, the storm clouds in her eyes cleared, replaced by that familiar warmth that made me fall in love with her in the first place.

 

I held her hand tighter as I started the car. Because honestly? If this was what being official with Jalen Robles meant—sunflowers, sulking, and selos-filled pouts—then I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

 

Not now. Not ever.

Notes:

Hiiii!!! Kalmahan niyo lang baka mapunit na bibig niyo kakangiti??!

Also, this au was written originally as JL AU (for those who are not aware) But I changed some plots here and there..... so let's enjoy hihi

Ps: I am having a hard time with POV's, hindi ko siya ma steady as Aiah or Jho lang kasi this is a socmed AU mas madali iportray don kaya pasensya na if magulo minsan wkdbkaamaj ayon lang!!!! Mwah!

Chapter 19: Madison x Anaiah

“Bakit ba andito ka? Doon ka nga sa condo ni Jalen.”

 

That was Yves—arms crossed, giving me that look na parang siya na yung pinaka-sawa sa drama ko.

 

I groaned, burying my face sa throw pillow. “Ayoko, baka andon si Anaiah.”

 

“Wait, anong connect?”

 

And just like that, naputol na naman yung string of self-control ko. I’ve been holding this in for too long, and Yves—poor Yves—was about to hear the whole mess.

 

So I told her.

 

Everything.

 

 

 

Flashback.

 

JHS years.

Hormones. Curiosity. The world was loud and confusing and yet—there was her.

 

My first ever girlfriend: Anaiah Arceta.

 

We were kids, technically, pero the feelings? They felt anything but childish. She was my first in everything—first crush, first holding hands sa hallway na palihim, first late-night call under the blanket, first kiss na awkward but unforgettable.

 

We loved each other in that messy, reckless, all-in kind of way only teenagers knew how to love.

 

Almost two years. Two years of stolen moments, of cheesy notes, of whispered “I love you’s.”

 

And then one day—she was gone.

 

Just like that.

 

Zero. As in zero. Ghost. Literal na multo.

 

No warning. No breakup. No explanation. Wala.

 

One day we were okay—actually, more than okay. The next, wala na.

 

 

 

I tried.

 

I texted. I called. I begged. I stalked her friends, pero none of them knew what happened. Or maybe they knew, pero they weren’t telling me.

 

All I knew was her family lived in the province, a few hours away. But I didn’t even know the exact address.

 

I was 15. No license, no freedom, strict parents. I couldn’t even sneak out properly, let alone drive hours away para lang maghanap ng ghost.

 

So I was stuck.

 

Stuck in silence. Stuck with questions. Stuck with the ache of being left behind without closure.

 

And I hated it.

 

I hated her.

I hated myself for still loving her.

I hated the world for making me feel so disposable.

 

 

 

Five years later.

 

Five. Long. Years.

 

I had already convinced myself na baka hindi siya totoo. Maybe I made her up. Maybe she was just some fever dream of my dumb teenage brain.

 

Until Tinder.

 

There she was.

 

After half a decade, the ghost decided to show herself again.

 

Same smile. Same spark in her eyes. Same girl who broke me without a word.

 

And what did I do?

 

I swiped right.

 

Of course I did.

 

Not because I wanted her back—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. I swiped right because maybe, just maybe, I could finally get answers. Closure. Something.

 

But I should’ve known better.

 

 

 

Because guess what?

 

She didn’t even recognize me.

 

When I saw her again at the club, she looked at me like I was just another stranger in the crowd.

 

Five years of me replaying her face in my head, remembering every little detail, wondering what I did wrong—

 

And to her? Nothing.

 

Like I never existed.

 

Like I wasn’t her first love.

 

Like I wasn’t the girl she once said she couldn’t live without.

 

Like hello? Bakit bigla kang nawala? At bakit ngayon parang ako lang yung nahirapan?

 

It didn’t feel good. At all.

 

 

 

And then came the final blow.

 

“Kami na,” Jalen had said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

 

The words hit like a punch straight to my gut.

 

My Anaiah—no, not mine anymore—was with her.

 

With Jalen. My best friend.

 

The girl who trusted me with her secrets, the girl I joked around with, the girl I never thought would be the one to… to take her.

 

It wasn’t even about being betrayed. Jalen didn’t owe me anything. Neither did Anaiah.

 

But it hurt.

 

It hurt in ways I didn’t know how to name.

 

Because after all this time, after all the waiting and wondering, after all the pain of being ghosted, Anaiah came back… only to love someone else.

 

 

 

“Shet, pakshet, gago?” Yves almost choked when I told her.

 

I laughed, pero it sounded broken.

 

“Ang labo no? Parang five years akong naghintay ng wala. Parang ako lang yung nagdusa. Tapos ngayon, happy sila. Together. In love. While I’m here—stuck.”

 

My voice cracked on that last word.

 

Stuck.

 

That’s the word. That’s what I’ve been for five years.

 

Everyone else moved on. Everyone else found love, lost it, found it again. But me?

 

I was still 15. Still staring at my phone, waiting for a message that never came.

 

Still looking at doors, hoping she’d walk through them.

 

Still dreaming of the ghost who left me behind.

 

 

 

And I spiraled.

 

Because maybe it wasn’t her fault. Maybe it was me. Maybe I wasn’t enough. Maybe I was too much.

 

Maybe that’s why she left.

 

Maybe that’s why she never came back.

 

And maybe Jalen—perfect, untouchable Jalen—was everything I wasn’t.

 

Confident. Strong. Someone Anaiah could actually be proud of.

 

Unlike me.

 

 

 

Do I want Anaiah back? I don’t even know.

 

What I know is I want answers. I want to know why she left. Why she made me feel like I wasn’t worth a goodbye. Why she gets to smile so easily now while I still carry the weight of her absence.

 

And the worst part?

 

I want her happy.

 

God, I want her happy.

 

Even if it’s not with me.

 

Even if it’s with Jalen.

 

And that’s the part that’s killing me the most.

 

Because loving someone sometimes means letting them go.

 

But no one ever told me that letting go would feel like dying in slow motion.

 

 

 

I lay back on Yves’ bed, staring at the ceiling, my chest heavy with five years’ worth of unspoken pain.

 

“Mads” Yves said softly after a long silence, “maybe it’s time to stop haunting yourself with ghosts.”

 

I wanted to believe her.

 

But how do you let go of someone who was your first everything?

 

How do you move on when your unfinished story just came back to life… in someone else’s hands?

 

 

 

And maybe I’ll never know.

 

Maybe this is my curse.

 

To always be haunted.

 

By Anaiah Arceta.

 

By what we had.

 

By what we lost.

 

By what could have been.

 

 

 

There was this one time I tried to be slick.

 

It was stupid, really. Alam ko namang risky. But I couldn’t help it.

 

We were in the condo, waiting for Jalen to come back. I was scrolling through my phone, pretending to be busy, while Anaiah was just sitting across from me, legs tucked under her, looking so at ease.

 

Like she belonged there. Like she belonged with Jalen.

 

And the thought ate me alive.

 

So I asked.

 

“Hey, ilan na nga naging girlfriend mo?”

 

She blinked, surprised. “Bakit mo natanong?”

 

I forced a laugh, waving my hand like it was nothing. “Pinapatanong ni Jalen, aba.”

 

Her brows furrowed, but she answered anyway. “Huh? Siya pa lang.”

 

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

 

Siya pa lang.

 

Her words hung in the air like a knife twisting deeper into my chest.

 

So I pushed. Because I was an idiot. Because part of me still wanted to believe she remembered.

 

“Oh,” I said casually, forcing a grin. “What about me?”

 

Her face went blank. “What do you mean?”

 

And just like that—

 

It was confirmed.

 

She didn’t remember.

 

Not the stolen glances in hallways.

Not the whispered calls at night.

Not the clumsy kisses we swore were magic.

Not the promises we made to each other when we were too young to know how fragile forever was.

 

To her, I was nothing.

 

Not even a footnote in her story.

 

And I laughed. God, I laughed so hard that Anaiah just looked at me weird, like I’d told some kind of bad joke.

 

But inside? I was crumbling.

 

Because how do you forget your first love?

And how do you live knowing your first love… forgot you?

Chapter 20: Overthinking

ANAIAH POV

 

“Anong iniisip mo dyan?”

 

Jalen’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

 

I was curled up sa couch, hugging a pillow habang nakatutok sa laptop screen na naka-pause lang naman. My mind had drifted far away from the half-finished plate I was supposed to be working on.

 

I turned my head slowly toward her. My baby girl—hair tied up in a messy bun, oversized shirt hanging loose on her frame, legs stretched out lazily sa coffee table like she owned the place. Which… technically, she did.

 

“Hmm,” I hummed, lips quirking into a smile, “Baby… Madison was asking me if ilan na naging girlfriend ko.”

 

Her brows lifted slightly, like she didn’t expect that answer.

 

“Ohh? Ang random,” she muttered, voice casual but eyes sharp. “Baka hinuhuli ka lang kung consistent sagot mo.”

 

I laughed, brushing it off, resting my chin on the pillow. “Weird, diba? Anyways…” I stretched a little, feeling my back pop, “I’ll be busy with plates love ha. Fourth year na ako this coming sem.”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

That’s all she said. No follow-up. No teasing remark. Just that short, clipped hum.

 

Pero ako naman, clueless as ever, just smiled and closed my laptop. I shifted closer, leaning my head on her shoulder. She smelled faintly of fabric softener, that comforting clean scent that always made me want to bury my face in her neck.

 

“Pagod ka?” I asked softly.

 

She tilted her head toward mine, her lips brushing my hairline. “Medyo. Pero kaya pa.”

 

And that was that. At least for me.

 

But Jalen? I didn’t notice the way her jaw clenched slightly. Or how her thumb hovered above her phone screen, not really scrolling anymore.

 

Because if there’s one thing about Jalen Robles—it’s that she didn’t let things go easily.

 

 

 

08:35 PM | Anaiah's Condo

 

My desk looked like a warzone. Bond papers scattered, cutting mat halfway off the edge, technical pens uncapped, and my poor laptop gasping for storage space.

 

“Love?” I called out, eyes still glued sa AutoCAD file I was adjusting.

 

“Hmm?”

 

She was sprawled sa bed behind me, phone in hand, legs dangling off the edge. I could feel her gaze burning the back of my head kahit hindi ako lumilingon.

 

“Can you hand me the T-square sa may shelf?” I asked, biting my lip habang ni-rorotate yung view ng plate.

 

A few seconds later, the familiar weight pressed against my shoulder as she leaned over, passing the tool.

 

“There.”

 

Her breath fanned across my cheek. My heart did a stupid little somersault. Ano ba yan Anaiah, focus. Plate, not Jalen.

 

“Thanks, love,” I whispered.

 

She hummed again. Short. Careful.

 

I didn’t realize until much later that those hums meant she was thinking.

 

 

 

 

Two days later

 

I was half-asleep sa library, my sketchpad acting as a pillow, when my phone buzzed.

 

Jalen: Outside. Sunduin na kita.

 

Groggy, I packed my things and dragged myself out of the building. The afternoon sun hit my face, but it wasn’t enough to keep my heart from flipping when I spotted her leaning against her car.

 

Simple lang: white tee, jeans, hair tied back. Pero Diyos ko, bakit parang cover girl pa rin?

 

“Love,” I greeted, smiling as I reached her.

 

Her eyes softened, but only for a second. Then she opened the passenger door for me.

 

“Come on.”

 

The ride was quiet. Too quiet. Normally, she’d tease me about being a zombie after plates, or play some random playlist and sing along off-key just to make me laugh. But today? Nothing.

 

My stomach twisted.

 

“Love?” I ventured.

 

She flicked her eyes toward me before focusing back on the road. “Yeah?”

 

“Are you… okay?”

 

“Yeah. Bakit?”

 

I swallowed. “Wala. You’re quiet lang.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

There it was again. That loaded hum.

 

And maybe I should’ve pressed harder. Maybe I should’ve demanded what was wrong. But I didn’t. Because part of me was too scared to find out.

 

 

 

Saturday night

 

We were supposed to be watching a movie. But I was too distracted trying to finish a sketch while balancing popcorn on my lap.

 

“Hindi ka naman nanonood,” Jalen commented, eyes still on the screen.

 

“Multitasking, love,” I said, tongue poking out slightly as I added a detail line.

 

She didn’t reply.

 

“Love?” I called, looking up at her.

 

Her jaw was tight. Eyes fixed on the TV but unfocused.

 

“Hey,” I nudged her thigh with my foot. “What’s wrong?”

 

Finally, she turned to me.

 

“Anaiah,” she said slowly, carefully, “Madison’s been… weird lately, don’t you think?”

 

My pencil froze mid-stroke.

 

“Weird? Paano?”

 

“The questions. The way she looks at you sometimes. Parang… may alam siya na hindi ko alam.

 

My throat went dry. “Love, baka nag-i-imagine ka lang. Why don't you ask her? She's your bestfriend after all, for sure sasabihin niya.”

 

“Am I overthinking?” she challenged softly. “Kasi the other day, you mentioned she asked you about your past girlfriends. Bakit siya biglang interesado doon?”

 

I swallowed hard, forcing a laugh. “Maybe she’s just… curious?”

 

“Curious,” Jalen repeated, like she was testing the word. Her eyes searched mine, as if waiting for me to flinch, to slip.

 

I held her gaze, refusing to falter.

 

Because how could I explain something I didn’t even understand myself?

 

All I knew was this: I was falling—no, I had already fallen—for Jalen. And the last thing I wanted was for Madison, of all people, to wedge herself between us.

 

So I reached out, placed my hand gently over Jalen’s.

 

“Love,” I whispered, “don’t overthink. Okay? It’s you. Just you.”

 

Her fingers tightened around mine. For a moment, her shoulders eased.

 

But deep inside, I could feel it—this wasn’t the end of it.

 

Madison had planted a crack in our bubble. And Jalen, being who she was, wouldn’t stop picking at it until she found the truth.

 

And me? I was just praying that truth wouldn’t cost me the best thing I’d ever had.

 

 

t was almost 10 PM when Jalen decided to go home.

 

The streetlights outside my window painted everything in a dull orange glow. The silence of my room was heavy, pero mas mabigat yung idea na aalis siya ngayong gabi. I didn’t want her to go. Kahit ilang oras kaming magkasama buong araw, parang laging bitin kapag oras na para umalis.

 

“Baby, what if dito ka na lang mag-stay?” I blurted out, my voice softer than I intended. Maybe too soft, but sincere. “Please, sorry I’ve been busy lang with plates. Hindi pa tayo nakakapag-cuddle, miss na miss pa rin kita. If you want I can drive you off tomorrow as early as 5AM para sa 7AM class mo, 10AM pa naman yung sa akin.”

 

I knew it sounded desperate. Pero ano magagawa ko? She’s my safe space. And lately, dahil fourth year na ako and my plates were eating me alive, I barely had the time to even breathe—let alone be with her.

 

Jalen tilted her head, giving me that look—the one na parang pinapagalitan ako pero in the end, she’s just melting inside too.

 

“Magpapabalik balik ka pa kasi bukas, love. Mapapagod ka sa paghatid,” she reasoned. Then after a pause, her lips curved into a smile, soft and patient. “Sige ganito, I can stay but aalis ako ng 5AM tomorrow para di ako abutin ng traffic along the way, hmm?”

 

My heart fluttered. Ganoon siya palagi—so considerate, so grounded. Ako itong clingy, ako itong madalas mag-demand ng time. Pero si Jalen? She always met me halfway.

 

I smiled, feeling spoiled. “I love you,” I whispered before pulling her close.

 

Her body fit perfectly against mine like it always did. I wrapped my arms around her, not even trying to hide how needy I was. I pressed tiny kisses all over her face—her forehead, her cheeks, her jawline.

 

“You’re so pretty when you’re serious, love—makes me want to… kiss you,” I murmured between soft pecks.

 

She let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Sus, sayo naman na ako kung ano-ano pang sinasabi mong bola.”

 

I pulled back just enough to look at her, my lips still brushing her skin. “Nooo, serious ako love.”

 

“Anim na buwan na tayo, pero patay na patay ka pa rin sa akin.” She teased, her voice light but her eyes shining in the dim light.

 

“Ang yabang mo naman yata, Jasmine Allen,” I shot back, though the grin on my face betrayed me.

 

She smirked, leaning closer until her lips ghosted my ear. “Jasmine Allen Arceta.”

 

And just like that, I died. Literally namatay ako sa kilig.

 

Her using my surname with hers? My brain short-circuited. My chest tightened like I couldn’t breathe. It was such a small thing, a whispered tease, pero grabe yung tama.

 

I froze, staring at her, before bursting into laughter that was half-disbelief and half-overflowing joy.

“Hoy! Don’t say things like that kung hindi ka seryoso.”

 

But deep inside, I wanted her to say it again. And again. And maybe forever.

 

 

 

 

I never imagined that someone like Jalen—calm, collected, the type na parang hindi mo mababasa agad—would look at me this way. Six months. Anim na buwan na. At sa bawat araw na lumilipas, she still manages to make me feel like I’m falling for her all over again.

 

She pulled me back into her arms, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Love, alam mo ba? Kahit gaano ka ka-busy, kahit hindi tayo laging nagkikita… ikaw pa rin yung gusto kong uwian.”

 

My throat tightened. I blinked hard, refusing to let the tears win. I buried my face in her neck, inhaling her scent—fresh laundry mixed with the faint perfume she always wore.

 

“You’re not allowed to say cheesy things like that then leave at 10PM,” I whispered, my words muffled against her skin.

 

She chuckled. “Eh ‘di na nga ako uuwi diba.”

 

 

The night stretched on like a secret only we knew.

 

We lay tangled in my sheets, the air conditioner humming softly in the background. Jalen’s phone buzzed once or twice—probably group chats or reminders—but she ignored it. Her hand found mine under the blanket, fingers interlacing naturally.

 

I stared at her profile in the dim light. Her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, her lips slightly parted, her breathing steady. Parang ang hirap paniwalaan na siya yung taong nag-stay with me through my messy schedules, mood swings, and endless rants about school.

 

“Bakit ang tahimik mo?” she asked suddenly, opening her eyes and catching me staring.

 

“Wala lang. Iniisip ko lang…” I trailed off, biting my lip.

 

“What?”

 

“…na I don’t deserve you sometimes,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.

 

Her brows furrowed instantly, and she shifted closer. “Don’t ever say that again.”

 

“Pero love, ang dami kong pagkukulang lately. Lagi akong pagod, lagi akong late mag-reply. Tapos ikaw, you’re always there, patient, waiting…”

 

She cut me off with a kiss—quick but firm, sealing my words away.

 

“I’m not keeping score, Anaiah,” she said, her tone steady. “I’m here because I want to be. Kahit busy ka, kahit pagod ka. That doesn’t make me love you less.”

 

And just like that, my chest ached in the best way possible.

 

 

We spent the next hour just talking—about random things, about my plates, about her classes, about the stupid memes she saw online. Laughter spilled in between, soft and genuine, the kind that made my stomach hurt in a good way.

 

At some point, I dozed off on her chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. But even half-asleep, I felt her lips press against my hair.

 

“Goodnight, love,” she whispered.

 

And for the first time in weeks, I felt at peace.

 

---

JALEN POV

 

I came home to my condo early in the morning, the city still half-asleep and bathed in the pale orange of dawn.

 

Walking into the kitchen, I was greeted by the smell of something familiar—eggs sizzling in a pan. And there she was, Madison, flipping eggs with precision, hair tied back, hairpins keeping the stray strands away from her face.

 

“Hi, morning. Kala ko uuwi ka kagabi,” she said casually, without looking at me.

 

“Naglambing si Anaiah,” I replied, shrugging like it was obvious.

 

Her hands froze mid-flip. She didn’t say a word.

 

These past few days, Madison has been acting… weird. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it, but it was noticeable. Her eyes lingered on her phone a second too long, she kept sharing things on Instagram stories and X, reposting songs that were way too heartbreak-y. Even her laughter, when she did laugh, felt forced—like someone who was pretending she was okay when she really wasn’t.

 

“Ayos ka lang ba?” I asked gently, leaning against the doorframe.

 

She nodded quickly. “Oo, ayos lang.”

 

I didn’t believe her. Even though she said she was okay, her eyes betrayed her. They were slightly red, like she had been holding back tears for hours. I had seen that look before—someone masking heartbreak behind a forced smile.

 

“Seryoso nga? Panay pang broken repost mo sa TikTok. Sino na naman yan?” I teased, trying to keep my tone light, but my curiosity was piqued.

 

“Wala, babe. Kumain ka na, 7AM pasok mo diba? Di ka ba pinakain man lang ni Aiah… I mean Anaiah.”

 

Aiah…? My ears perked up. The nickname sounded familiar yet foreign coming from her lips, like a secret only they shared. My heart gave a little flip.

 

“Nagmadali na ako baka abutan kasi ako traffic, pero she prepared sandwich for me.”

 

I raised my eyebrows. Of course she did. Anaiah always had this way of thinking about me even when I was half-asleep, half-grumpy, and completely clueless.

 

“Oh, nice. Tara na, let’s eat.”

 

“Not until you tell me about this girl,” I pressed, giving her my best serious look.

 

Madison froze mid-step, her spatula suspended in the air like she had been caught doing something illegal.

 

“Girl?” she said, cautiously.

 

“Yeah. You’ve been posting sad songs, dramatic quotes, and those cryptic stories on TikTok and X. So who is she? Or should I say… who was she?” I asked, leaning casually against the counter, trying to seem nonchalant, but my mind was racing.

 

Madison put down the spatula and crossed her arms, her eyes avoiding mine. She fiddled with the hem of her apron, like she was debating whether to confess or run away.

 

“I… it’s nothing, Jalen. Really. Don’t overthink it.”

 

“Nothing? Girl, you’ve been acting like you just survived a tornado of feelings. Come on, you can tell me.”

 

She exhaled and let out a shaky laugh. “I’m fine. Just… lost in my thoughts, that’s all.”

 

I didn’t buy it. Not for a second. She was avoiding something—or someone. And whatever it was, it was weighing on her.

 

She started plating breakfast, but her movements were slower than usual. Her eyes kept darting to the floor, like she was afraid I’d see what she was hiding.

 

“You’re really quiet today, huh?” I said, leaning against the counter, trying to catch her attention.

 

“Just… thinking,” she replied, biting her lip.

 

“Thinking about… me?” I teased.

 

She rolled her eyes, but I saw the faintest blush on her cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

 

I laughed softly. “Okay, fair. But come on, something’s up. You can tell me. You know I notice these things.”

 

She shook her head, avoiding my gaze. “Really, I’m fine,” she insisted. But the quiver in her voice gave her away.

 

I sighed. I wanted to push, but I also didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. I reached across and nudged her arm gently. “Hey… if it’s bothering you, I’m here, okay? Just… maybe don’t keep it all bottled up.”

 

She gave me a small smile, tight and fleeting. “Thanks, Jalen.”

 

The sandwich she prepared for me looked perfect, but I barely touched it. My mind kept wandering to the way she hesitated, the faint sadness in her eyes. Something—or someone—was hurting her, and I had no idea what it was.

 

We ate in relative silence, the occasional clatter of utensils the only sound. I stole glances at her now and then. The way she moved, careful and precise, the way she tried to maintain her composure—it was like watching a storm contained in a teacup. Beautiful, fragile, but dangerous if it broke.

 

Finally, she set down her fork and looked at me. “Okay, I think you’ve interrogated me enough,” she said lightly, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.

 

I smiled, but my heart was still uneasy. “Fine. But just know, if it ever gets too heavy… you don’t have to carry it alone, pwede kang magsabi sakin alam mo naman yun diba.?”

 

She nodded, smiling again, this time a little more relaxed. But I could still see it—the little cracks in her armor, the things she wasn’t saying.

 

 

 

I buckled my seatbelt and took a deep breath, the cool morning air of the car mixing with the lingering scent of breakfast. The city was slowly waking up, cars beginning to trickle in the streets, the hum of engines faint in the distance. But I couldn’t focus on that right now—my thoughts were already on her.

 

Anaiah.

 

God, I missed her already. It had only been a few hours since I left, and my chest ached in that familiar way whenever we were apart. Kung akala niya clingy siya… mas clingy ata ako. Every little thing reminded me of her, from the empty side of the bed to the faint scent of her shampoo lingering on my jacket.

 

I pulled out my phone and dialed her number, my fingers fumbling slightly despite knowing the number by heart. The ring tone seemed louder than usual in the quiet of my car, and I found myself tapping the steering wheel nervously.

 

A few rings later, her voice came through, soft, husky, and groggy.

 

“Love,” she murmured, and I swear my chest did a flip. She sounded half-asleep, still tangled in her dreams, and the faint rasp in her voice made me smile like an idiot.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, love. Papasok na ako,” I said, lowering my voice despite no one else being around. I didn’t want to disturb her if she was still drifting in sleep.

 

“Okay lang po. Nag breakfast ka na?” she asked, her voice getting a little clearer now.

 

“Yup. Kasabay ko si Madison… Kinausap ko pala siya,” I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

 

I heard her quiet hum on the other side of the line, thoughtful, patient, waiting for me to continue.

 

“Oh, anong sabi?” she asked.

 

“Nothing naman daw, but I know there’s something eh,” I said, sighing. I hated that I could sense it, that I could feel Madison holding something back, keeping her feelings locked up. But Anaiah… she would understand. She always did.

 

“Hmm, wait mo na lang siya when she’s ready to open up, baby,” Anaiah said gently, and my chest softened. That was the thing I loved most about her—her patience, the way she could make everything feel like it would be okay, even when nothing really was.

 

“Right. Sige na, I’ll get going na. Wake up at 8AM and have some breakfast na din. Update me, okay?” I said, already reaching to start the car.

 

“Yes, boss. I’ll update you,” she replied, and I could hear the faint smile in her voice.

 

I grinned, leaning back against the seat for a moment, my heart lighter than it had been all morning. “Okay… I love you, baby.”

 

“I love you more, baby ko,” she said, and just like that, the ache in my chest eased a little.

 

By the time I reached the school parking lot, I was already scrolling through my phone again, rereading her last texts in my head. Each word felt like a heartbeat, each “baby ko” like a gentle reminder that she was mine—and that I was hers.

 

I sent her a quick message:

 

“Good morning, baby ko. Andito na ako sa school, bakbakan na ulit. I love you! Message me kapag hindi ka busy mwah!”

 

It was silly. Maybe childish. But I didn’t care. Every word I sent was a piece of my heart, a whisper to remind her that I was thinking of her.

 

I turned off the car, took a deep breath, and walked into school. But even as I stepped onto campus, my mind stayed in my car, back in the quiet morning, wrapped in the sound of her voice and the warmth of her love.

Chapter 21: Review Buddy

“Baby? You want snacks?” Jalen asked, her voice soft but playful.

 

We were sitting on the floor of her condo’s living room, books scattered around us like a battlefield.

 

My highlighter was already half-dry, my eyes heavy from hours of reviewing.

 

This has been our little ritual for months now—either at my place or hers, we’d study separately, side by side. Kanya-kanyang notes pero magkasama pa rin.

 

It was funny, really. I used to think that “your place or mine?” was a line reserved for couples in movies who wanted something a little less innocent.

 

Pero ngayon, it meant reviewing, endless coffee, and pretending not to stare at each other while highlighting terms we probably won’t even remember tomorrow.

 

I shook my head at her question. “Okay lang love ko, later na lang,” I said, eyes still glued to my notes.

 

But the next thing I knew, she scooted closer until her shoulder brushed mine. Then, without warning, she wrapped her arms around me from the side, cheek pressing against my shoulder.

 

I blinked, my pen halting mid-sentence. “Pagod ka love?” I asked softly.

 

She only nodded, tightening her hold.

 

My heart melted.

She looked so tired, strands of her hair falling messily across her face.

 

Finals were brutal, and I knew she had been pushing herself too much. I could feel her warmth against me, the steady rhythm of her breathing. Suddenly, the formulas on my notebook felt less important.

 

I set my pen down, turning slightly to face her. “Do you want to rest for a while? We can take a break, baby ko.”

 

She shook her head stubbornly, but her eyes were already closing. “Nooo… I need to finish this chapter.”

 

I chuckled softly, smoothing down her hair. “Pero nakapikit ka na.”

 

She cracked one eye open, giving me that mischievous little smile that always disarms me.

 

“Because you’re comfy. Ikaw muna rest ko.”

 

God. How do I even respond to that without combusting?

 

 

 

Minutes passed, and we stayed like that—me pretending to read while she leaned against me like I was her personal pillow. Every now and then, she’d mumble random terms from her notes, her voice muffled against my shoulder.

 

“Platelets… um… RBC… WBC…” she trailed off, then giggled when she messed up the sequence.

 

“Ano ba ‘yan. Brain ko naglo-loading.”

 

I snorted. “Baby, you sound like a broken record.”

 

She poked my side halfheartedly. “Supportive girlfriend ka nga diba?”

 

“Of course,” I said, trying to sound serious even though I was smiling like an idiot. “But I’m also your reality checker love ko.”

 

She laughed, then pulled back just enough to look at me. And that’s when it hit me—her eyes, tired but still shining; her lips curling into a grin despite the stress; the way her oversized shirt slid off one shoulder so carelessly, making her look effortlessly beautiful.

 

I swallowed hard.

 

Damn. How did I get so lucky?

 

 

 

We tried to get back to reviewing, but she was being extra clingy today.

 

Every five minutes, she’d either steal my highlighter, doodle nonsense on the margin of my notebook, or lean closer just to whisper,

 

“Miss mo na ba ako?”

 

I rolled my eyes. “Baby? Magkatabi lang tayo.”

 

She smirked. “So… miss mo na ako?”

 

I shoved her gently with my elbow. “Ikaw talaga, kulit, yes po I miss you.”

 

But the truth was—I did miss her. Even if we were literally together. I missed the version of her that wasn’t buried under deadlines and exams.

 

The Jalen who laughed too loudly at my corny jokes, who dragged me to random food trips at midnight, who made every ordinary day feel like something special.

 

Right now, she was both—my stressed med tech girlfriend and my soft, silly Jalen. And I realized, again, just how much I loved all of it.

 

 

 

At some point, she stretched her legs across my lap, claiming, “Reviewing is better like this.”

 

“Hindi ba nakakailang?” I teased, glancing at her.

 

“Hindi, kasi lap ko ‘yan.” She grinned proudly, like she had just made the smartest scientific discovery.

 

I shook my head but didn’t push her away. Instead, I adjusted her notes on top of my thighs so she could still read comfortably.

 

She noticed and smiled softly, the kind of smile that makes my chest ache in the best way possible.

 

“Love,” she whispered. “Why are you so good to me?”

 

I blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean? I’m just… being me.”

 

“Exactly,” she said, eyes holding mine. “You’re you. And I love you for that.”

 

There it was again—that overwhelming warmth flooding through me, stealing my breath. I wanted to tell her that I loved her more than I thought was possible.

 

That every late-night review, every cramped condo study session, every small moment like this just kept proving it.

 

But all I managed to say was, “I love you too.”

 

She grinned, satisfied, and leaned in to kiss my cheek before going back to her notes.

 

And me? I just sat there, pretending to study, but really just memorizing her.

 

Because no matter how many terms I tried to cram into my brain, the only thing I wanted to remember forever was her.

 

 

 

 

“Okay, focus na ulit tayo,” I told her, even though I was the one struggling to focus.

 

She sat cross-legged across from me now, her laptop open while she typed notes. I tried to highlight my reviewers, pero wala, my eyes kept drifting toward her.

 

Her brows furrowed, lips slightly pursed as she read. Sometimes she would bite her lip when she was trying to understand something complicated. Other times, she’d hum softly, completely unaware that I was watching.

 

God, she was beautiful.

 

I forced myself to look back at my notes. Focus, Anaiah. Hindi ka dito para mag-daydream.

 

But then she caught me.

 

“Hey,” Jalen said suddenly, raising an eyebrow. “You’re staring at me.”

 

My cheeks heated instantly. “Hindi ah.”

 

She smirked, leaning back on her hands. “Oh really? Eh bakit kanina pa nakatitig yung mata mo sa akin instead sa libro mo?”

 

I sputtered, searching for an excuse. “I was… uh… analyzing your study habits.”

 

She burst out laughing. “Study habits? So ngayon ginawan mo pa ng research topic ang pagmumukha ko?”

 

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “You’re so mean.”

 

But she crawled closer and pried my hands away, her grin softening into something tender. “I like it though.”

 

I blinked. “Like what?”

 

“That you stare,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Makes me feel… loved.”

 

My chest tightened. I wanted to tell her she was loved, every single second, but the words lodged in my throat.

 

So instead, I just reached out and held her hand, squeezing it gently. She squeezed back, smiling as if that was enough.

 

And maybe it was.

 

 

 

An hour passed with actual productivity. Well, somewhat productive. She would read a page, then rest her chin on my shoulder to complain.

 

“Love, ang dami.”

 

“Love, ang hirap.”

 

“Love, can we just quit school and run away together?”

 

I laughed at that. “And do what? Maging tambay sa beach?”

 

“Yes,” she said seriously, eyes twinkling. “I’ll make buko juice for a living. You… you can sing for tips.”

 

I rolled my eyes. “Talaga? That’s your dream for us?”

 

“It’s peaceful,” she said, leaning into me again. “Wala ng exams. Just us.”

 

I knew she was half-joking, but the way she said just us made my heart somersault.

 

 

 

By late afternoon, the condo was quiet except for the faint hum of her aircon and our scribbles. Then, out of nowhere, she grabbed her phone and started playing soft music.

 

“Background vibes,” she explained when I looked at her. “Para hindi tayo tuluyang ma-brain damage.”

 

I chuckled. “Okay, fine. Pero low volume lang ha.”

 

The music was gentle, the kind that made everything feel slower and softer. She stretched out on the floor, head resting near my lap, her notes abandoned.

 

“Baby, if you don’t study, you’ll regret it,” I warned, poking her forehead lightly.

 

But she only grinned lazily. “If I fail, at least kasama kita.”

 

I shook my head, but deep down, I felt my heart swell. She always knew how to turn even the most stressful moments into something sweet.

 

She closed her eyes, humming along with the song. My hand instinctively went to her hair, brushing it gently.

 

And it hit me again—how much I loved her. How much I wanted to freeze this moment forever.

 

 

 

“Love,” she murmured after a while, eyes still closed.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Do you ever think about… the future?”

 

Her question made me pause. “Of course I do.”

 

“No, I mean… our future.” She opened her eyes now, looking up at me with a softness that made me breathless. “Like… years from now. Still like this. Still us.”

 

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “I… I hope so.”

 

She smiled faintly. “Me too.”

 

Silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t heavy. It was the kind of silence that felt safe. The kind that said everything we were too shy to put into words.

 

I traced small circles on the back of her hand. “You know… I think about it a lot. Yung future natin. I don’t know exactly what it looks like yet, pero… I want you in it.”

 

Her eyes softened even more, and then she whispered, “Good. Kasi wala na akong plan B.”

 

I froze, staring at her. “Plan B?”

 

“You’re my only plan,” she said simply, her tone half-joking but also… not.

 

And just like that, I realized—no amount of exams or grades or school stress could ever outweigh this. This feeling. This certainty. That she was it for me.

 

 

 

Eventually, we got hungry. She insisted on cooking ramen in her tiny kitchen. I watched from the counter as she moved around, hair tied messily, humming under her breath.

 

“You’re staring again,” she teased without looking back.

 

“I’m allowed,” I shot back. “Girlfriend rights.”

 

She giggled, stirring the noodles. “Okay, fine. Pero wag kang mahulog lalo. I’m already too much.”

 

I shook my head, smiling. “You’re just enough.”

 

She glanced at me then, her eyes soft, and for a moment, the ramen boiled over without her noticing.

 

“Baby!” I laughed, rushing to help.

 

“Ay shit,” she panicked, scrambling to turn off the stove.

 

We both burst into laughter, the smell of slightly overcooked noodles filling the room.

 

And somehow, even that—burnt ramen at 6 PM with notes still waiting on the floor—felt perfect.

 

 

 

We ended up eating straight from the pot, sitting side by side on her couch. She slurped dramatically, making me laugh.

 

“Hindi ba nakakahiya?” I teased.

 

“To who?” she said, grinning. “It’s just us.”

 

Just us.

 

And honestly? That was more than enough.

 

 

 

After ramen, we returned to the battlefield—our books and reviewers still scattered across the floor. But this time, we were full, and somehow even more restless.

 

Jalen stretched her arms dramatically. “Ughhh… I can’t read anymore. Brain cells ko nag-su-suicide na.”

 

I laughed. “Drama queen. We still have two chapters to go.”

 

She pouted, leaning her head against my shoulder again. “Can we just… cuddle-review? Ikaw basa, ako makikinig?”

 

“Cuddle-review?” I raised an eyebrow. “Is that even a real thing?”

 

“Gagawin nating real thing,” she said confidently, already wrapping her arms around me like she was proving her point.

 

I sighed but couldn’t stop smiling. “Fine. Pero if you fall asleep, I’m not repeating anything tomorrow.”

 

“Deal,” she whispered, snuggling closer.

 

So, I started reading aloud, my voice breaking the silence of the condo. She would hum softly every now and then, or repeat a word after me, as if testing herself. But soon, her responses grew softer… until they faded completely.

 

I glanced down.

 

She had fallen asleep.

 

Her cheek rested against my shoulder, her lips slightly parted, breathing even and peaceful. The girl who had been so stressed, so restless earlier, was now calm—right here, with me.

 

I froze, not wanting to move, not wanting to ruin the moment. My book slipped from my hand, forgotten.

 

Instead, I just watched her.

 

Watched the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. Watched the rise and fall of her chest. Watched the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, as if even in dreams, she was content.

 

And that’s when it hit me—again, but stronger this time.

 

I love her. I really, really love her.

 

Not the butterflies-in-the-stomach kind of love anymore. This was deeper. Steadier. The kind that made me want to take care of her, to be there for every exam, every sleepless night, every burnt ramen disaster.

 

I realized that I didn’t just want her in my present—I wanted her in my every tomorrow.

 

 

 

I carefully shifted, laying her down on the couch so she’d be more comfortable. She stirred slightly, murmuring something I couldn’t catch. Her fingers searched blindly, and without thinking, I held her hand.

 

She calmed immediately, her grip tightening around mine even in sleep.

 

My chest ached.

 

“You don’t even know how much I love you,” I whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. “You’re everything to me, Jalen.”

 

She didn’t answer, of course. But maybe she didn’t need to. Maybe holding my hand was her answer.

 

 

 

Hours blurred. I tried to review more, but eventually, I found myself dozing off too.

 

When I woke, it was dark except for the dim glow of her lamp. Jalen was awake now, sitting beside me with her knees tucked to her chest. She was scrolling through her phone, but the moment she noticed I was up, she smiled.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you,” she said softly.

 

“How long was I out?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

 

“Two hours. Cute ka matulog,” she teased, grinning.

 

I groaned. “Don’t start.”

 

She laughed, then leaned closer. “Thank you, love.”

 

I frowned. “For what?”

 

“For staying,” she said simply. “For always being here even when I’m cranky, even when school’s too much… kahit pagod ka rin.”

 

I stared at her, heart twisting. “Of course. Where else would I be?”

 

She bit her lip, eyes glistening like she was holding something back. Then, she whispered, “Sometimes I wonder if I deserve this. Deserve you.”

 

My throat tightened. I reached for her hand, holding it firmly. “Don’t say that. You deserve every bit of love I can give. More pa nga.”

 

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, the world felt still. Then, she leaned in and kissed me.

 

It was slow. Gentle. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for anything but gave everything.

 

And in that kiss, I knew—I wasn’t just falling anymore. I had already fallen. Completely.

 

 

 

 

We eventually decided to call it a night. The notes could wait; our sanity couldn’t.

 

She handed me an oversized shirt to wear, insisting I stay over since it was late. I changed in the bathroom, then joined her in bed. Her room smelled faintly of lavender, and the sheets were cool against my skin.

 

She slid in beside me, immediately wrapping an arm around my waist.

 

“Comfy?” she murmured.

 

“Mm-hm,” I whispered, tucking myself closer.

 

The silence that followed was different this time. Not the heavy kind from earlier, not the distracted silence of reviewing. This one was warm, steady, intimate.

 

And as she breathed quietly against my neck, I thought—

 

This is home. Not the condo, not the room, not the bed. Her. She’s my home.

 

 

 

 

Before sleep claimed me, I whispered one last thing, so soft I wasn’t even sure if she heard.

 

“I love you, Jalen. Always.”

 

She stirred, tightening her hold on me. And in the faintest voice, half-asleep, she whispered back—

 

“I love you too, Anaiah.”

 

And just like that, everything felt right.

 

The stress. The exams. The endless notes. None of it mattered as long as we had this.

 

As long as we had each other.

 

 

 

 

 

The morning light slipped through the curtains, soft and golden, waking me before Jalen. She was still asleep beside me, her arm draped over my waist, breathing slow and even.

 

For a moment, I just lay there, staring at her. She looked so peaceful, so unbothered by the world outside. My chest warmed at the thought that last night, despite all the stress, we had this—quiet, soft, just us.

 

But my stomach growled, breaking the spell. Carefully, I slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake her. I padded to the kitchen, deciding to cook breakfast. Something simple lang—eggs, toast, maybe coffee. I wanted her to wake up to a warm meal.

 

I had just started cracking eggs into a pan when I heard a door creak.

 

I froze.

 

From the corner of my eye, I saw someone step out of the guest room. Madison.

 

She looked just as surprised to see me.

 

“Morning,” I greeted, trying to sound casual.

 

She blinked before offering a small smile. “Good morning. Andyan ka pala.”

 

And then—silence.

 

The kind of silence that wasn’t comfortable.

 

I turned back to the pan, pretending to focus on the eggs. The sizzle filled the air, but it didn’t drown out the weight between us.

 

 

 

 

Madison leaned against the counter, watching me. I could feel her gaze, heavy and unreadable.

 

“So… you stayed the night,” she said after a while.

 

I glanced at her, then nodded. “Yeah. We reviewed late. It was easier to just… stay.”

 

She hummed, like she was processing something. “Makes sense.”

 

Another pause.

 

I didn’t know what to say. Madison wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but she had this way of making silence feel loaded, like there was something unsaid hanging between every word.

 

Finally, I broke it. “Want some coffee? I’m making breakfast for Jalen anyway.”

 

Her lips quirked, almost amused. “Sure. Thanks.”

 

 

 

 

I poured her a cup, sliding it across the counter. She accepted it, fingers brushing the mug lightly.

 

“You and Jalen… seryoso na yan ha.” she asked suddenly, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

 

I blinked, taken aback. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we be?”

 

She shrugged, sipping her coffee. “Nothing. Just… I can see it. The way you look at her.”

 

My cheeks heated, but I kept my voice steady. “I love her. That’s all there is to it.”

 

For a second, Madison just studied me, like she was trying to read the truth off my face. Then she nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

 

“Good,” she said simply.

 

Silence again—but this time, it wasn’t as heavy.

 

 

 

 

I plated the eggs and toast, placing them on the counter. Madison was still leaning there, sipping her coffee, eyes distant.

 

“You know,” she said softly, almost to herself, “Jalen’s lucky.”

 

I glanced at her, unsure how to respond. “I’m the lucky one.”

 

Madison met my gaze, and for a fleeting second, there was something in her expression—something unreadable.

 

But then she smiled lightly and raised her mug. “Breakfast smells good.”

 

I nodded, forcing a smile back.

Chapter 22: LDR

The first morning without Jalen felt wrong.

 

I woke up to the shrill sound of my alarm, the kind she usually smacks off before I even reach for my phone. But this time, there was no annoyed groan from her. No soft, sleepy “five more minutes, love”while she tugged me back into her arms.

 

Just silence.

 

I turned on my side, staring at the empty space beside me. It was the same bed, the same pillow, but it didn’t feel the same without her. My chest tightened at the thought: Jalen was already miles away, starting her OJT in the province.

 

Six hours away.

 

The distance felt impossible. I hated driving long trips—ever since that one time I nearly dozed off on the road during a two-hour drive. My hands would go clammy just thinking about highways that stretched endlessly, trucks zooming past, and the heavy silence of being alone behind the wheel.

 

And now, Jalen wasn’t just far—she was six hours far.

 

I sighed, forcing myself to get up. No use lying in bed when the ache of missing her was louder than my alarm.

 

 

 

By noon, my phone buzzed. Her name flashed across the screen, and instantly, my heart jumped.

 

“Love,” she greeted, her voice rushed but warm. I could hear chatter and clinking utensils in the background. Lunch break.

 

“Hi, baby. Kumusta ka diyan?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

 

“Okay naman. First day pa lang, medyo nakakapagod. Clinical Chemistry agad yung rotation.”

 

“Agad-agad?” I chuckled. “Ang galing mo naman.”

 

She laughed, and the sound eased something inside me. “Not really. I almost messed up samples kanina. But my supervisor’s kind, tinuruan niya ako.”

 

I closed my eyes, imagining her in her white uniform, brows furrowed but determined, sleeves rolled up as she focused on her task. My heart swelled with pride. “I’m proud of you, love.”

 

She sighed softly. “Namimiss na kita.”

 

And there it was—that pull in my chest I’d been trying to ignore all morning.

 

“Miss you too,” I whispered. “Kaya mo ‘yan. Don’t worry about me, just focus on your OJT.”

 

Someone in the background called her name. Her sigh turned heavier. “I have to go. Talk later?”

 

“Of course. Ingat ka palagi.”

 

The line went silent. And just like that, I was alone again.

 

 

 

The first week dragged on.

 

I busied myself with classes, projects, errands—but the emptiness followed me everywhere. My phone buzzed less. Her calls were shorter, always squeezed between shifts.

 

“Love, sorry, can’t talk long. Kakatapos lang ng rotation sa Hematology.”

 

Or sometimes just a text before bed: “Love, I’m so sleepy. Talk tomorrow, okay? I love you.”

 

I’d stare at the screen long after, rereading those words until they blurred.

 

At night, when the world quieted down, that’s when the missing hurt the most. I’d scroll through our old photos—her laughing too loud with messy hair, her serious face during review sessions, her hand clutching mine like it was second nature.

 

I missed not just her presence. I missed us.

 

 

 

One Friday, she called while walking back to her dorm. The sound of crickets and faint chatter filled the line.

 

“Love, I wish you were here,” she said suddenly.

 

My heart clenched. “Why?”

 

“So you can hold my hand habang naglalakad ako sa kalsada.”

 

I laughed softly, though tears pricked my eyes. “Cheesy mo.”

 

“Totoo kaya,” she argued, giggling. “My hands feel lonely.”

 

Her voice was teasing, but all I could think was how badly I wanted to be there, to hold that lonely hand.

 

But six hours was too far. And the idea of driving all that way—alone, on endless highways—made my palms sweat just imagining it.

 

So I just whispered, “One day soon, love.”

 

 

 

The weekend came, and I set my laptop on my bed for a long video call. Snacks beside me, like our usual review nights. When she appeared on screen, hair tied back, uniform still on, I couldn’t stop smiling.

 

“Look at you,” I teased. “So professional.”

 

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Shut up.”

 

We talked for hours. She told me about her co-interns, her strict RMT supervisor, and how province life was quieter but lonelier.

 

“Sometimes I like it,” she admitted, voice soft. “Mas simple. Less noise. Pero… mas lonely din.”

 

“Because I’m not there?” I asked.

 

Her eyes softened. “Exactly.”

 

For a while, it felt like she was right here again. Just us, side by side, the world shrinking down to our voices.

 

But when the call ended, the silence crashed back, heavier than before.

 

 

 

That night, lying in bed, I thought about the distance again. Six hours. A drive I was terrified of making.

 

But then I thought about her walking alone at night, saying her hands felt lonely. About her tired voice calling me during quick breaks. About her eyes softening when she admitted she missed me too.

 

And suddenly, the fear felt smaller than the ache of missing her.

 

What if I just visit her?

 

The thought made my heart race. It was crazy. Risky. I wasn’t sure I had the courage.

 

But maybe love was worth facing the highways for.

 

Maybe, just maybe, I could bring her a piece of home.

 

 

 

The following week felt heavier than the first.

 

It wasn’t just the silence in my room anymore. It was the constant what ifs spinning in my head. What if Jalen was exhausted and I wasn’t there to cook for her? What if she got sick and no one checked up on her? What if she was walking home late at night and I couldn’t even hold her hand?

 

The distance didn’t just ache—it gnawed at me.

 

 

 

One afternoon, I sat in the campus café with Cassie and Guila. Both of them were scrolling through their phones while I just stared at mine, waiting for Jalen’s reply.

 

“Hoy, Anaiah,” Cassie suddenly said, raising a brow. “You’ve been checking your phone every five seconds. What’s up?”

 

I groaned, leaning my chin on my hand. “She hasn’t replied yet. Busy sa hospital rotations.”

 

Guila smirked, sipping her iced latte. “Normal naman ‘yan. You knew she’d be busy.”

 

“I know,” I admitted. “Pero… it’s so different. I miss her.”

 

Cassie rolled her eyes playfully. “LDR ka lang, hindi ka na makahinga?”

 

“Six hours away is not lang,” I shot back, pouting.

 

That made them laugh, but I wasn’t even joking.

 

⸻

 

The conversation shifted when Cassie leaned closer. “Why don’t you just visit her? Long weekend is coming, ‘di ba?”

 

My stomach twisted at the thought. “I can’t. Six hours drive yun.”

 

“And?” Guila tilted her head.

 

“You know I hate long drives. My hands start sweating just thinking about it.”

 

Cassie smirked. “Anaiah, you drive like a grandma kahit 30 minutes lang. Pero come on, six hours? You’ll survive.”

 

I shook my head firmly. “Nope. Not happening.”

 

But even as I said it, I could feel the idea rooting itself deeper.

 

 

 

That night, Jalen called while she was preparing her stuff for the next day.

 

“Love,” she said, voice tired but still gentle. “Guess what? We handled actual patient samples today.”

 

“Wow,” I said, forcing cheer into my tone. “You’re really out there, huh? Doing the real thing.”

 

She giggled, though I could hear the exhaustion in her laugh. “Yeah. It’s exciting but nakakapagod. I wish I could just collapse on your bed after.”

 

The ache in my chest sharpened. “One day soon,” I whispered.

 

She hummed softly. “I’ll hold you to that, love.”

 

After we hung up, I stared at the ceiling. Cassie’s voice echoed in my head. Why don’t you just visit her?

 

⸻

 

The next few days, the idea wouldn’t leave me alone.

 

During class, while my professor droned on about theories, I imagined Jalen in her lab coat, adjusting her goggles, focused on test tubes. I imagined her walking back to her dorm, tired, maybe scrolling through our old messages just to feel close to me.

 

And I hated the thought of being just a text notification on her screen.

 

I wanted to be real. To be there.

 

But then the fear would creep in. The endless highways, the heavy traffic, the possibility of making a wrong turn in the middle of nowhere.

 

My chest would tighten just thinking about it.

 

 

 

Friday night, I was at home scrolling through my notes when my phone buzzed. Jalen’s name flashed again.

 

“Love,” she greeted, voice groggy. “Sorry, late call. I just got back.”

 

“Are you okay? You sound tired.”

 

She laughed softly. “I’m beyond tired. But hearing your voice helps.”

 

I bit my lip, wishing more than anything I could hug her right now. “You’re doing so well, baby. I’m proud of you.”

 

She was quiet for a second, then she whispered, “I really miss you, Aiah.”

 

And just like that, the decision I’d been pushing away snapped into place.

 

I didn’t care if my palms would sweat the whole drive. I didn’t care if I’d get lost or if my playlist looped a hundred times.

 

I was going to see her.

 

 

 

The next morning, I woke up with my heart racing—not from fear this time, but from determination.

 

I pulled up Google Maps, calculating the route. Six hours. If I left early on a Saturday, I’d arrive just in time to surprise her after her duty. I could spend the weekend with her, then drive back Sunday night.

 

Cassie texted me later that day. “So… you’re really doing it?”

 

“Yeah. Don’t tell anyone,” I replied.

 

“Good luck, grandma driver. Don’t crash.”

 

I rolled my eyes but smiled.

 

Because for the first time in weeks, I actually felt excited.

 

Not just nervous. Not just lonely.

 

Excited—because soon, I’d be holding her hand again.

 

 

 

I left Manila before the sun even rose.

 

The roads were still dark, streetlights glowing dimly, but my heart was louder than the silence. It thumped against my chest, heavy with nerves, heavier with excitement.

 

I gripped the steering wheel tighter than usual, palms already damp. The thought of six hours stretched ahead of me like a mountain I wasn’t sure I could climb.

 

But then I pictured Jalen—tired in her lab coat, walking home with her lonely hands—and I pushed my foot on the gas.

 

 

 

The first hour wasn’t too bad. I blasted my playlist, singing off-key just to fill the silence. My anxiety sat in the backseat like an unwanted passenger, but I ignored it.

 

This is for her, I kept reminding myself. For my love.

 

By the second hour, traffic thinned, and the highways opened up. Long stretches of road, the kind that usually made me uneasy, stretched endlessly before me. Trucks zoomed past, their horns loud, and my fingers tightened until my knuckles turned white.

 

“Breathe, Aiah,” I whispered to myself. “You can do this.”

 

I rolled down the window, letting the morning breeze in. It smelled different—fresher, freer. Like I was already leaving the heaviness of Manila behind.

 

 

 

At a gas station halfway, I parked and let out a shaky laugh. “Grabe, love,” I muttered as if she were sitting beside me. “I can’t believe I’m doing this for you.”

 

I bought snacks and water, checking my phone quickly.

 

One unread message from Jalen: “Good morning, love. Starting duty now. Talk later. Miss you.”

 

I smiled at the screen, whispering, “You’ll get the biggest surprise of your life later.”

 

The thought gave me the push I needed to start the engine again.

 

 

 

The third and fourth hour were the hardest. The sun was already high, glaring down on the road. My back ached, my legs felt stiff, and I started doubting myself.

 

What if I get lost? What if she’s too busy to see me? What if this is a mistake?

 

But then I remembered the way she whispered, “I really miss you, Aiah,” just two nights ago.

 

No. This wasn’t a mistake. This was exactly what we both needed.

 

So I kept driving, whispering promises into the hum of the engine.

 

“Hold on, love. I’m coming.”

 

 

 

By the fifth hour, the scenery changed. Rice fields stretched endlessly on both sides of the road, greener than anything I’d seen in the city. Carabaos grazed lazily in the distance. For a moment, the sight calmed me.

 

This was her world now—the province, the quiet roads, the slow afternoons. And for this weekend at least, it would be mine too.

 

The last hour flew by faster than I expected. Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was the thought that every minute brought me closer to her.

 

When I finally saw the arch welcoming me to her town, I almost cried.

 

“Love,” I whispered, voice shaking. “I made it.”

 

 

 

I parked a few streets away from the hospital, my hands trembling as I turned off the engine. Six hours of fear, sweat, and determination—and here I was.

 

My heart pounded as I stepped out, the afternoon sun beating down. People walked past me casually, unaware of the storm inside me.

 

I texted Cassie quickly: “I’m here.”

 

She replied instantly: “Good luck. Don’t faint when you see her.”

 

I laughed nervously, clutching my bag.

 

And then I walked.

 

 

 

The hospital wasn’t big—just a two-story building with white walls that had weathered years of sun and rain. Outside, a few people sat waiting, nurses walking briskly in and out.

 

And there she was.

 

Jalen, in her white uniform, her hair tied back neatly, carrying a clipboard. She was talking to someone, brows furrowed in focus.

 

For a moment, I froze. My heart stopped, my breath caught. She looked so beautiful, so grown, so… hers.

 

I wanted to run to her, but my legs felt like lead.

 

Finally, she turned her head—and her eyes landed on me.

 

Her steps faltered. Her lips parted. The clipboard almost slipped from her hands.

 

“A-Anaiah?” she whispered, disbelief painting her face.

 

I felt tears prick my eyes as I smiled. “Surprise, love.”

 

In seconds, she closed the distance between us. She didn’t care that people were watching. She dropped her things, wrapped her arms around me, and held on like she’d never let go.

 

“God, love,” she whispered against my hair, her voice breaking. “You’re really here.”

 

I hugged her tighter, burying my face in her shoulder. “I told you your hands wouldn’t be lonely forever.”

 

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right again.

 

 

 

Her hug lingered even after the shock faded. It was the kind of hug that said, I’ve been waiting for this, I’ve been aching for this.

 

“Love,” Jalen murmured against my ear, her voice shaking. “You’re crazy. Six hours?! Alone?!”

 

I laughed, still holding on. “Worth it.”

 

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes glistening. “What if something happened on the road?”

 

“But nothing did.” I cupped her face, brushing my thumb along her cheek. “I’m here. With you.”

 

Her lips curved into that smile I’d been starving for. “I still can’t believe it.”

 

“Believe it, baby,” I teased. “Kasi hindi ako multo.”

 

She smacked my arm lightly, then grabbed my hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before people think we’re filming a teleserye.”

 

⸻

 

She led me to her dorm nearby, a small but cozy place. The moment we stepped inside, she dropped my bag on the floor and hugged me again.

 

“Miss na miss talaga kita,” she whispered, voice muffled against my shirt.

 

My heart swelled so much it almost hurt. I kissed the top of her head. “Same, love. Every single day.”

 

We ended up sitting on her narrow bed, facing each other. She was still in uniform, but she looked more beautiful than ever.

 

“So,” she started, eyes narrowing playfully. “Tell me. How many times did you almost turn back?”

 

I chuckled, scratching my neck. “Mga… twenty?”

 

She laughed, her whole face lighting up. God, I missed that laugh. “But you still came.”

 

“Of course. My love’s here. Where else would I be?”

 

Her cheeks flushed. “Cheesy mo.”

 

“And you love it.”

 

“Maybe,” she admitted, giggling.

 

⸻

 

The rest of the evening was simple but perfect. She insisted I shower first, then she reheated some leftover adobo while we shared stories. She told me about her co-interns, her strict supervisor, the endless test tubes. I told her about Cassie teasing me, Guila’s sarcastic comments, and how weird it felt studying without her.

 

“It’s so different, love,” I confessed while eating. “Reviewing alone. No one to steal highlighters from.”

 

She grinned. “Or no one to correct your wrong answers.”

 

“Excuse me, ikaw kaya lagi mali.”

 

“Lies!” she said, laughing.

 

It was so ordinary, so domestic, and yet it filled every gap the distance had carved into me.

 

⸻

 

That night, we lay in her small bed, tangled up together. She was tracing lazy circles on my arm while I played with her hair.

 

“You know what I realized?” she whispered.

 

“What?”

 

“That no matter how busy, how far, or how tired I get… I’ll always crave this.” She tightened her arms around me. “Us. You.”

 

I kissed her forehead softly. “Then I’ll keep finding ways to get to you. Kahit ilang hours pa.”

 

Her eyes shimmered in the dim light. “Promise?”

 

“Promise.”

 

And we sealed it with a kiss—slow, gentle, the kind that spoke more than words ever could.

 

⸻

 

The next morning, I woke up to her staring at me.

 

“Creepy,” I mumbled, half-asleep.

 

She giggled. “I just can’t believe you’re real and here.”

 

I reached up to poke her cheek. “Touch me, love. Real nga.”

 

She caught my hand and kissed it instead, making me blush instantly.

 

“Ugh,” I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. “Why are you so perfect?”

 

She laughed. “Sira ka.”

 

⸻

 

We spent the day like tourists in her little town. She took me to the plaza, treated me to dirty ice cream, and showed me the church her classmates usually visited after duty. People stared sometimes—two girls walking hand in hand—but she didn’t let go.

 

“Let them look,” she whispered. “I only care about you.”

 

My chest felt warm, overflowing.

 

⸻

 

That evening, back in her dorm, we cooked together. Or tried to.

 

“Love, that’s too much soy sauce,” I said, holding her wrist.

 

She pouted. “Adobo is supposed to be salty!”

 

I laughed, taking the bottle away. “Not that salty. You’ll kill me.”

 

She leaned closer, smirking. “Or maybe I just like seeing you flustered.”

 

I felt my face heat up instantly. “Unfair.”

 

She laughed, pulling me into a quick kiss. “I missed teasing you.”

 

“Then tease me forever.”

 

“Gladly.”

 

⸻

 

Sunday came too fast. Too soon.

 

We sat on her bed, my packed bag between us, the weight of goodbye pressing heavy.

 

“I wish you could stay longer,” she whispered.

 

“I know. Me too.” My throat tightened. “But this isn’t the last time. I’ll come back.”

 

She looked at me with so much tenderness, it made my chest ache. “You drove six hours just for one weekend. Do you know how much that means to me?”

 

I smiled, though my eyes burned. “You’re worth every mile, Jalen.”

 

She kissed me then—deep and lingering, like she was memorizing me for the days ahead.

 

When we finally pulled apart, I cupped her face and whispered, “Next time, your hands won’t be lonely for so long.”

 

Her smile trembled. “I’ll hold you to that, love.”

 

⸻

 

As I got back into the car later that afternoon, I glanced at her standing by the dorm gate, waving at me with teary eyes.

 

The road ahead was long again, but this time, I wasn’t scared.

 

Because now, I knew I could do it.

 

For her. For us. For love that could stretch across six hours and still hold strong.

Chapter 23: Night out

The bar was alive that night, neon lights bouncing off walls sticky from years of spilled drinks and smoke. Music pounded, bass heavy enough to rattle bones, while laughter and shouts overlapped into a messy chorus of noise. In the middle of it all sat Anaiah, cheeks flushed, her arm around Cassie’s shoulders as another round of shots landed on their table.

 

“Birthday girl gets another one!” someone yelled, sliding a glass toward Cassie.

 

But Cassie only laughed, shaking her head and shoving it toward Anaiah. “Hindi, si Arceta na lang. Come on, Anaiah, isa pa.”

 

Anaiah groaned dramatically but grinned all the same. “You’re all trying to kill me,” she joked, though her hand still reached for the glass.

 

Beside her, Guila raised hers in a mock toast. “You’ve always had the strongest tolerance anyway. Cheers!”

 

They clinked glasses and Anaiah downed the shot, the liquid burning its way down her throat. She winced, then laughed with the rest of them. For a moment, it felt like old times—before responsibilities, before distance, before all the weight of waiting for Jalen.

 

But it didn’t take long before the warmth in her chest turned into heat at the back of her head. The laughter around her dulled into a slow hum, and when she blinked, the lights seemed to smear, colors running together.

 

She swayed slightly in her seat.

 

“Anaiah?” Cassie frowned, steadying her. “You good?”

 

Anaiah opened her mouth to answer, but a sharp, hollow wheeze slipped out instead of words.

 

Her chest tightened. Her throat constricted.

 

No, not now.

 

Her eyes widened as panic surged through her. She reached for her bag with trembling hands, fingers clawing through the zipper. “In… inhaler…” she gasped, her voice strangled.

 

Cassie’s face drained of color. “Oh my God. Guila!”

 

Guila snapped to attention, grabbing the bag. “Where is it?!”

 

“Inside—find it—” Cassie’s voice trembled as she held Anaiah upright. Anaiah’s breaths came short and ragged, each one shallower than the last.

 

The music around them never faltered, oblivious to the small pocket of chaos erupting at their table. People danced, laughed, cheered for shots—while Anaiah’s world tilted and darkened.

 

“Her inhaler—dammit, I can’t find it!” Guila was tossing items onto the sticky table: lip balm, receipts, her phone, keys. No inhaler.

 

Anaiah clutched her chest, her eyes wide in terror as her body fought for air that wouldn’t come.

 

“Gagi hindi makahinga si Anaiah!” Cassie yelled, voice breaking.

 

“Call Jalen! Call her now!”

 

 

 

Phones were out within seconds, screens glowing in the darkness.

 

Cassie dialed first, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped her phone. “Come on, come on, pick up—”

 

No answer. Straight to voicemail.

 

She tried again.

 

And again.

 

Still nothing.

 

Beside her, Guila tried too, desperate. “Tangina, why isn’t she picking up?!”

 

Anaiah’s body jolted, her breaths shallow wheezes, her lips starting to pale.

 

“Cassie!” Guila’s voice was raw. “She’s not gonna make it if we don’t do something!”

 

“I don’t know what to do!” Cassie was crying now, tears streaking down her cheeks as she held Anaiah’s limp body close.

 

 

 

 

In the middle of the chaos, Guila’s eyes darted to another name on her screen.

 

Madison.

 

She hit call.

 

It rang once. Twice.

 

“Hello?” Madison’s calm voice filtered through the noise.

 

“Madison—please, it’s Anaiah! Emergency lang! She’s not breathing right—we can’t find her inhaler—we don’t know what to do!” Guila’s words tumbled out between sobs.

 

There was silence for a fraction of a second on the other end before Madison’s tone sharpened, all business.

 

“Where are you? Exactly where?”

 

“The Loft! Near Katipunan—hurry!”

 

“I’m on my way. Get her somewhere quieter. Away from the smoke and noise. Now.”

 

 

 

 

Minutes felt like hours.

 

Cassie and Guila, with the help of two bouncers, carried Anaiah into a small storage room behind the bar. The music dulled, the air cooler, but Anaiah’s body was frighteningly limp, her breaths shallow and erratic.

 

Cassie clutched her hand, whispering frantically. “Stay with us, Anaiah. Please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to Jalen.”

 

The door burst open, and Madison rushed in, still in jeans and a hoodie, a sling bag across her shoulder. Her eyes immediately found Anaiah on the couch.

 

“Oh God,” she muttered, then quickly set her bag down. “Move. Let me see her.”

 

Cassie and Guila scrambled aside, tears streaking their faces.

 

Madison crouched beside Anaiah, two fingers against her neck. “Pulse is weak. Breathing shallow.” She tilted Anaiah’s chin, checking her airway. “Asthmatic history, right?”

 

“Yes! Yes, she usually carries an inhaler but we couldn’t find it!” Guila’s voice cracked.

 

Madison nodded curtly, already digging into her bag. She pulled out a small emergency kit, fumbling for a spacer and a borrowed inhaler she carried for situations like this.

 

“Good thing I didn’t leave this behind,” she muttered, fitting the pieces together with quick hands. She pressed it against Anaiah’s lips. “Breathe, Anaiah. Come on. Inhale.”

 

Cassie squeezed her friend’s hand, whispering desperately.

 

Anaiah’s body jerked slightly, her chest rising shallowly as the medicine began to work its way in.

 

“Again,” Madison instructed firmly. “One more.”

 

Another shaky inhale.

 

The tension in the room was suffocating, every second dragging like an eternity.

 

Then, finally, Anaiah let out a long, rattled cough.

 

Her chest lifted, and the wheeze softened. Her body sagged against the couch as the air began to flow easier.

 

Cassie broke into sobs of relief, clutching Guila. “She’s breathing. Oh my God, she’s breathing.”

 

Madison exhaled, her hands steady but her eyes betraying the adrenaline rushing through her veins. “She’s stable—for now. But she needs rest. And no more alcohol. Ever. You understand?”

 

Both Cassie and Guila nodded frantically.

 

 

 

 

It was nearly an hour later when Anaiah stirred, groaning softly. Her lashes fluttered open, the dim storage room light greeting her.

 

“Wh—where am I…?” her voice was hoarse.

 

Cassie immediately leaned forward, relief flooding her face. “You scared the hell out of us! You collapsed kanina, Aiah. Asthma attack.”

 

Anaiah blinked slowly, trying to piece the night together. Her chest still ached, but she could breathe.

 

That’s when she noticed Madison, seated calmly in the corner, her hoodie sleeves pushed up, her eyes tired but alert.

 

“Madison…?” she croaked.

 

Madison gave a small nod. “They called me. Good thing I was nearby. You weren’t breathing right when I got here.”

 

Anaiah swallowed hard, guilt washing over her like ice water.

 

Her voice cracked. “Jalen…”

 

“She doesn’t know,” Madison said quietly, her tone firm but not unkind. “Cassie and Guila tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. Do you want me to tell her?”

 

Anaiah’s chest tightened again—not from asthma, but from the crushing weight of shame.

 

Her mind raced with Jalen’s voice telling her she could go out, her gentle reminders to drink water, her unwavering trust.

 

And here she was—nearly breaking that trust in the worst possible way.

 

“I…” Anaiah’s voice trembled, her eyes welling with tears. “I don’t know what to say to her.”

 

Cassie sniffled, gripping her hand tightly.

 

“Just… tell her the truth. You scared us, Anaiah. But more than that, you almost scared her without her even knowing.”

 

Anaiah closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks.

 

In that moment, the loud bar outside felt like another world entirely. Here, in the quiet of the storage room, the reality of what she’d risked pressed down on her like a weight she couldn’t shake off.

 

And for the first time in a long time, Anaiah truly understood—this wasn’t just about her anymore.

 

It was about Jalen. About the promises she made. About the life she almost lost before it could even begin.

 

 

 

 

The sun was already peeking through the blinds when Jalen stepped out of the hospital. Her body ached from the sixteen-hour shift—legs sore, eyes gritty from staring at samples and machines all night—but at least duty was done.

 

She dug into her pocket for her phone, hoping to see a “good morning, love” text from Anaiah.

 

Instead, her lock screen flashed with six missed calls from Cassie, four from Guila.

 

Her stomach dropped.

 

“What the hell…” she muttered, swiping furiously. No new messages from Anaiah. Not even a single emoji.

 

Heart racing, she called Cassie back immediately.

 

It rang once. Twice.

 

Then Cassie’s shaky voice answered, “Jalen?”

 

“What happened?” Jalen’s voice was sharper than she intended, her panic rising. “Why did you call me ten times?”

 

Cassie hesitated, and that silence was enough to make Jalen’s knees weak.

 

“Cassie!” Jalen snapped. “Tell me!”

 

“Anaiah…” Cassie’s voice cracked. “She collapsed last night.. She—she passed out, Jalen.”

 

The world seemed to tilt. Jalen’s hand trembled as she gripped her phone tighter. “What?! Tangina anong nangyari??!”

 

“She’s okay now,” Cassie rushed to add. “Madison came. She took care of her. She’s stable, resting. Please don’t freak out.”

 

But Jalen was already pacing in the hospital parking lot, her breath coming quick and uneven. “Don’t freak out? My girlfriend almost died and no one told me until now?”

 

“We tried!” Cassie cried. “We called you over and over, but you didn’t pick up—”

 

“I was on duty!” Jalen’s voice broke. She closed her eyes, guilt slamming into her chest. If she had answered—if she had just stepped out, even for a minute—she could’ve been there.

 

“Where is she?” Jalen asked, her voice trembling now.

 

“She’s at her condo. Madison insisted she shouldn’t stay out. We brought her home.”

 

Jalen didn’t say goodbye, didn’t say thank you. She hung up, staring at her shaking hands.

 

Anaiah. Passed out. Couldn’t breathe.

 

And Jalen wasn’t there.

 

 

 

 

Inside Anaiah’s condo, the atmosphere was painfully quiet. Guila sat by the couch, her head in her hands, while Madison leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still wearing her hoodie from last night. Anaiah was curled beneath a blanket, pale but sleeping soundly.

 

The silence broke when Anaiah’s phone lit up on the table—Incoming call: Jalen.

 

Cassie reached for it, but Madison stopped her. “Let Anaiah answer. She needs to.”

 

Slowly, Anaiah stirred awake, groaning softly. Her lashes fluttered open, confusion flickering in her eyes until they landed on the glowing screen.

 

Her chest tightened.

 

Her hands trembled as she picked it up. “H-hello?”

 

“Anaiah.”

 

Her name in Jalen’s voice—hoarse, raw, trembling—was enough to make her heart ache.

 

“Baby…” Anaiah whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

 

“Cassie told me what happened.” Jalen’s voice cracked, each word heavy with worry. “You collapsed. Asthma attack. You—God, Baby, you passed out and I wasn’t there.”

 

Anaiah broke, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, love. I’m so, so sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize!” Jalen snapped, though her voice shook with fear.

 

“You scared me. Do you have any idea what it felt like hearing that over the phone after the fact? Knowing I wasn’t there to hold you, to help you—”

 

“I didn’t want it to happen,” Anaiah sobbed. “I thought I was fine. I just… drank too much. I didn’t even realize until it was too late. I swear, love, I didn’t mean for this—”

 

Jalen’s silence stretched painfully. Then finally, her voice broke through, softer now.

 

“Promise me this is the last time.”

 

Anaiah clutched the phone tighter. “I promise. No more drinking, no more parties without you. I promise, baby.”

 

On the other end, Jalen choked back a sob. “Don’t ever make me feel this helpless again, Aiah. I love you too much for that.”

 

Anaiah pressed the phone against her ear, tears streaming freely. “I love you more. Please forgive me.”

 

Through the static, through the six-hour distance, Jalen whispered the words Anaiah needed most.

 

“Always.”

 

 

Jalen sat in her small dorm room provided by the hospital, her hands still trembling even after the call ended. She couldn’t shake the image that Cassie’s words had planted in her head—Anaiah gasping for air, clutching her chest, passing out cold.

 

The rational part of her brain told her to rest, that she’d just finished sixteen hours of duty and had another shift soon. But the thought of Anaiah lying weak and pale, miles away without her, was unbearable.

 

Before she realized it, she was shoving clothes into a backpack.

 

 

 

 

Back in the condo, Anaiah sat up on the couch, clutching her phone even though the call had ended. Her friends hovered nearby, whispering quietly, giving her space but clearly watching her.

 

The sudden buzz of a new message made her heart skip.

 

Jalen: I’m coming to you.

 

Anaiah’s eyes widened. She typed back immediately, fingers trembling.

 

Anaiah: Love no!! You’re tired. You just finished duty. Please rest. I’m okay now.

 

The reply came almost instantly.

 

Jalen: I don’t care. I need to see you with my own eyes.

 

Anaiah’s chest ached. She knew Jalen well enough to recognize that tone—unyielding, stubborn, fueled by love and fear.

 

“Guys,” Anaiah whispered, looking up at Cassie and Guila, “she’s coming here.”

 

Cassie blinked. “Wait, from the province? That’s like… six hours!”

 

“She just got off duty,” Anaiah muttered, worry flooding her voice. “She’ll be exhausted.”

 

Madison, arms still crossed, spoke for the first time in hours.

 

“Then stop her. Call her again. Make her listen.”

 

But Anaiah shook her head slowly, tears threatening to fall again.

 

“You don’t know her. Once Jalen decides something, no one can stop her.”

 

 

 

 

The drive was grueling.

 

Jalen’s eyes stung, her body begged for rest, but her hands gripped the wheel like her life depended on it. Each passing kilometer was a battle between exhaustion and determination.

 

She blasted music, rolled down the windows for the rush of air, anything to keep herself awake. All the while, her mind replayed the words: She collapsed. She passed out.

 

Her knuckles whitened against the steering wheel. I wasn’t there. Never again.

 

 

 

 

 

It was almost midnight when Anaiah heard the knock on her door.

 

She froze.

 

Cassie, closest to the door, peeked through the peephole and gasped. “Seryoso nga si Jalen.”

 

Anaiah scrambled to her feet despite the weakness still lingering in her body. Her heart hammered as she rushed to the door and pulled it open.

 

There she was.

 

Jalen, still in her scrubs, hair messy from the long drive, dark circles under her eyes. Her backpack slung over her shoulder. Exhausted.

 

But alive. Here.

 

“Anaiah.”

 

Her name left Jalen’s lips like a prayer.

 

Before Anaiah could speak, Jalen pulled her into a fierce embrace, burying her face against her neck. Anaiah inhaled the familiar scent of disinfectant and faint perfume, her knees buckling as she wrapped her arms around her tightly.

 

“I thought I lost you,” Jalen whispered, her voice breaking.

 

Anaiah shook her head, crying into her shoulder. “You didn’t. I’m here. I’m sorry, love. I’m so, so sorry.”

 

Jalen cupped her face, forcing her to look up.

 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again. I don’t care if I have to drive ten hours—I’ll always come for you. But please, Anaiah… promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

 

Anaiah nodded through her tears.

 

“I promise. No more reckless nights. No more making you worry. Just… us. Always.”

 

And then, right there in the doorway, they kissed—a desperate, aching kiss that tasted of fear, love, and relief all at once.

 

Behind them, Cassie sniffled, Guila wiped her eyes, and even Madison looked away, quietly excusing herself to the kitchen.

 

But Anaiah and Jalen didn’t care.

 

Because after everything—the distance, the fear, the mistakes—they had each other again.

 

 

 

 

The condo was quieter now.

 

Cassie and Guila had already slipped out, mumbling excuses about early classes and promising to check on Anaiah tomorrow. The chaos of last night was finally settling into something calmer.

 

Anaiah was curled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, her head resting on Jalen’s lap. Her breathing had evened out, though Jalen still kept her hand gently pressed against her back, as if reassuring herself that every inhale was steady, every exhale real.

 

Across the room, Madison stood by the counter, pouring herself a glass of water. She hadn’t said much since Jalen arrived, giving them space.

 

But Jalen’s gaze followed her.

 

She knew she couldn’t just ignore this.

 

Carefully brushing a strand of hair from Anaiah’s face, Jalen whispered, “I’ll be right back, love.”

 

Anaiah murmured something half-asleep, but didn’t stir.

 

Jalen stood, padded across the small living room, and stopped a few feet from Madison.

 

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

 

“Thank you,” Jalen finally said, her voice quiet but heavy with sincerity.

 

Madison raised a brow. “For what?”

 

Jalen exhaled, fingers flexing nervously at her sides.

 

“For taking care of her when I couldn’t. For being there when she needed someone. Cassie told me everything—you monitored her, made sure she was stable.”

 

Madison looked down at her glass, swirling the water. “I just did what anyone would do.”

 

“No.” Jalen shook her head firmly.

 

“Not anyone. Not everyone knows what to do in that kind of situation. And if it weren’t for you…” her voice caught, “I don’t even want to think about it.”

 

For a long while, Madison didn’t reply. Then she sighed, leaning back against the counter.

 

“She’s lucky. To have so many people who care about her.”

 

Jalen’s chest tightened at the way she said it, like there was something unspoken beneath the words. But she didn’t push.

 

Instead, she offered a small, tired smile. “She’s luckiest to have survived last night. And I owe you for that.”

 

Madison gave a small nod, finished her glass of water, and grabbed her bag from the chair. “I’ll get going. She needs you more than anyone right now.”

 

"Wait, may hika pala si Anaiah?" Madison asked.

 

Jalen nodded. She wanted to say more—to smooth out the awkwardness lingering in the air—but before she could, Madison was already at the door.

 

The door clicked shut, and Jalen exhaled deeply.

 

She walked back to the couch, sinking down beside Anaiah, pulling the blanket tighter around her girlfriend’s small frame.

 

Jalen kissed her forehead, whispering against her skin. “You’re safe now. I’m here.”

Chapter 24: Yes

The morning of Jalen’s graduation felt different.

 

The sun had barely risen but I was already wide awake, staring at the ceiling of my condo with a grin I couldn’t shake off.

 

Today wasn’t just any ordinary day—it was the day my girlfriend finally walked across the stage to claim the diploma she worked her ass off for.

 

“Ga-graduate ka na love.” I whispered into the quiet room, as if Jalen could hear me from the province.

 

I rolled out of bed, my heart pounding with excitement.

 

A dozen red roses lay on the desk—delivered yesterday, carefully hidden so Jalen wouldn’t find out early.

 

I picked them up, inhaling the scent, imagining her reaction. She’d probably laugh and say, “Corny ka talaga, Anaiah.” But I knew she’d blush.

 

Beside the flowers was a small velvet box.

 

My hands trembled as I touched it. Inside was the ring I’d been keeping for weeks—simple, elegant, not flashy, but something I knew would suit her perfectly.

 

Every time I opened the box, I imagined slipping it onto her finger at Sunken Garden, under the golden glow of sunset.

 

My stomach churned. “Shit. I’m really going to do this.”

 

The plan was clear in my head.

 

First, cheer for her at the ceremony, embarrass her a little in front of her batchmates, then later, once the family gathering was done, take her to Sunken Garden for photos.

 

She’d think it was just another stroll down memory lane. Then boom—the proposal.

 

I glanced at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess, my eyes were puffy.

 

Definitely not the look I wanted for today.

 

“Okay, Arceta,” I told myself. “You need to look worthy of her toga moment.”

 

Two hours later, I was dressed in a crisp white button-down, black slacks, and polished shoes—simple but clean.

 

I grabbed the roses, tucked the ring box into my pocket, and headed out.

 

Today, I wasn’t just her girlfriend. I was going to be her forever.

 

 

 

 

 

The UP Theater was packed, buzzing with excitement and chatter. Families held bouquets, balloons, banners with names scribbled in glitter pens. Everywhere I looked, proud parents were snapping photos of their kids in togas.

 

And me? I was vibrating with nerves, holding my flowers like they were a lifeline.

 

“Anaiah!” a familiar voice called.

 

I turned to see Jalen’s parents waving me over. I hurried to them, bowing slightly. “Good morning po, Tito, Tita!”

 

Her mom smiled warmly, patting my arm.

 

“Salamat at andito ka. She’ll be happy to see you.”

 

“Syempre po,” I grinned, my chest swelling with pride.

 

The ceremony began soon after. I sat with her family, scanning the sea of graduates until my eyes landed on her.

 

There she was.

 

My Jalen.

 

She stood tall in her white dress under the maroon and green sablay, her hair neatly tied back, her smile radiant even from afar.

 

She looked every inch the professional she was meant to be, every bit the woman I was lucky enough to love.

 

My throat tightened. She’s beautiful.

 

The dean gave a speech I barely listened to, my mind too focused on Jalen.

 

Every time she shifted in her seat, I caught it. Every time she glanced toward the audience, my heart leapt, hoping she was looking for me.

 

Then it was her turn to walk.

 

“Jasmine Allen Robles, Magna Cum Laude.”

 

The auditorium erupted in applause. I shot up from my seat before anyone else, cheering at the top of my lungs.

 

“GO BABY GIRL! THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND!”

 

Heads turned. Some students laughed. Her batchmates clapped louder.

 

And Jalen—oh, Jalen—turned crimson as she accepted her diploma from the dean.

 

She shook her head, but I caught the tiny smile tugging her lips as she glanced my way.

 

“Corny ka talaga, Anaiah,” I could practically hear her say.

 

I didn’t care. I wanted the whole world to know she was mine and that I was proud of her.

 

 

 

 

When the ceremony ended, chaos broke out as graduates reunited with their families and friends. I pushed through the crowd, clutching the bouquet, until I finally spotted her.

 

“Baby girl!” I called, waving.

 

She turned, her eyes lighting up as soon as they landed on me. Before I could even say anything, she rushed forward, throwing her arms around my neck.

 

“I heard you!” she laughed against my ear. “Ang lakas ng boses mo!”

 

I held her tight, burying my face in her shoulder. “Of course. Ikaw kaya star ng araw na ‘to.”

 

She pulled back, rolling her eyes, though her cheeks were flushed pink. “You’re unbelievable.”

 

“I’m unbelievably in love with you, yes,” I shot back with a grin, presenting the roses.

 

“Congratulations, love. You did it.”

 

Her eyes softened as she accepted them, inhaling their scent. “Thank you, baby. For always being here.”

 

I wanted to kiss her right then and there, but with her parents hovering nearby, I settled for brushing a kiss against her knuckles. She blushed even harder, smacking my arm lightly.

 

“Kinikilig ako sayo,” she muttered under her breath.

 

“Mission accomplished,” I whispered back.

 

 

 

 

 

We ended up at a restaurant near campus for the graduation lunch. The place was buzzing with other families, each table filled with graduates still wearing their sablay, their proud parents raising glasses in toast.

 

Jalen sat beside me, her flowers carefully placed on the empty chair next to her.

 

Her medal still hung around her neck, and I couldn’t stop staring at it—the proof of all her sleepless nights, her stress, her sacrifices.

 

But more than the medal, I couldn’t stop staring at her.

 

She was glowing. Not just in the graduated-finally-free kind of way, but in the this-is-my-girl-and-I-love-her kind of way.

 

Her mom noticed me zoning out and chuckled softly.

 

“Aba, Anaiah, baka matunaw na si Jasmine kakatingin mo."

 

I snapped out of it, cheeks burning. “Sorry po, Tita. She just… she looks amazing.”

 

Jalen groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Ma, please.”

 

Everyone at the table laughed, and my chest warmed.

 

 

 

 

The food came quickly—platters of pancit, crispy pata, lechon kawali, and every other celebratory dish you could think of. I reached for the serving spoon, eager to load Jalen’s plate for her, but she gently swatted my hand away.

 

“No, love. Ako na.” She took the spoon and started piling food onto my plate instead.

 

“Uy, ikaw si graduate,” I teased. “Dapat ako nagse-serve sayo.”

 

She shook her head firmly. “You’re eating properly today.”

 

I blinked, surprised at her serious tone. “Baby, I’m okay now— konti lang please.”

 

“I don’t care.” She gave me a stern look, then softened. “Please. Let me take care of you.”

 

The way she said it made my chest tighten. I raised my hands in surrender. “Fine. Ikaw bahala.”

 

She smiled triumphantly, spooning more pancit onto my plate than I could probably finish.

 

Her dad chuckled, watching the exchange. “Inlove na inlove naman Allen!”

 

Jalen flushed but didn’t deny it. She just kept filling my plate, muttering, “Guilty.”

 

I reached for her free hand under the table, squeezing gently. She squeezed back without looking at me, her lips twitching with a shy smile.

 

Kilig. Pure kilig.

 

 

 

 

After lunch, the group decided to take more photos around campus.

 

We posed by Oblation, by the College of Science, and finally near AS steps.

 

Everywhere we went, Jalen’s batchmates congratulated her, some teasing her about the loud “baby girl!” moment earlier.

 

“Uy, ang swerte mo naman, Jalen. May cheerleader ka pa!” one of her blockmates teased.

 

Jalen rolled her eyes but slipped her arm around my waist. “Of course. She’s the best.”

 

I pretended to fan myself. “Grabe kala ko maiinis ka kanina, ngayon proud na proud ka pa.”

 

Her friends groaned, laughing. “Forever na yan Robles ah!”

 

We laughed along, but inside, my nerves buzzed harder. The ring in my pocket felt heavier with every passing hour. Soon.

 

 

 

 

By late afternoon, the families started heading home, leaving just me and Jalen wandering through campus.

 

The golden hour sunlight painted everything warm, the trees casting long shadows across the familiar grounds.

 

“Baby,” I said casually, “before we go home, let’s drop by Sunken. Picture-picture lang.”

 

She tilted her head. “Sunken? Wala namang special dun.”

 

I smiled, my heart racing. “For me, meron.”

 

She eyed me suspiciously but didn’t push. “Fine. Ikaw bahala.”

 

As we walked hand-in-hand toward the vast field, I couldn’t stop the butterflies swirling in my stomach. This was it.

 

The place where I’d ask her to be mine—forever.

 

 

 

 

The walk to Sunken Garden felt longer than usual. My heart was thudding so hard I swore Jalen could hear it. She was still in her graduation dress, the sablay draped over her shoulders, holding her bouquet of roses like a trophy.

 

The sunset stretched across the wide field, painting the sky orange and pink. The grass swayed gently with the wind, and the distant chatter of other groups celebrating filled the air.

 

But all I could focus on was her.

 

This is it, Anaiah.

 

We stopped near the middle, where the grass was soft and the view stretched endlessly. Jalen tilted her head, scanning the horizon. “Ayan, nandito na tayo. Picture na ba?”

 

“Wait,” I said quickly, my palms sweating. “Let’s sit first.”

 

She gave me a weird look but followed anyway, settling beside me on the grass. She slipped her shoes off, sighing. “Finally. My feet are killing me.”

 

I chuckled nervously, fiddling with the ring box hidden in my pocket. “Baby girl…”

 

She turned to me, her eyes soft. “Hmm?”

 

For a moment, I froze. Her gaze was so steady, so filled with love, that I almost forgot my lines.

 

But no. This was the moment.

 

I took a deep breath. “You know, when I first met you… I never imagined we’d get here. Back then, I was just a mess. You were this brilliant, hardworking, beautiful girl—too good for me, honestly. But you chose me anyway.”

 

Jalen blinked, her lips parting.

 

I continued, my voice trembling. “You’ve been my anchor. The one who reminded me to eat, to sleep, to take care of myself. The one who believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself. And every single day, you make me want to be better. For you.”

 

Her eyes were glistening now, her hand clutching the fabric of her sablay.

 

I reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “These past months, we’ve been through so much. The distance, your OJT, my mistakes… and yet, here we are. Stronger. Still choosing each other. And baby…” My voice cracked. “I want to keep choosing you. Every single day. For the rest of my life.”

 

I pulled the ring box from my pocket and opened it, the small band catching the last rays of sunlight.

 

Jalen gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand.

 

“Jasmine Allen Robles,” I whispered, my heart racing, “will you marry me?”

 

 

 

 

For a long moment, silence. Just the sound of the wind rushing through the grass. My chest ached with the weight of her reaction.

 

Then she laughed through her tears, half-sobbing, half-choking. “Putangina, Anaiah, sa Sunken Garden talaga?”

 

I laughed too, my nerves breaking. “Eh dito tayo madalas magdate right?"

 

“You’re insane,” she cried, wiping at her eyes. “Grabe ka, I just graduated tapos eto agad?”

 

“Perfect timing,” I grinned, though my own eyes stung. “End of one journey, start of another. With me. Please love?”

 

Her laugh turned into a sob as she nodded furiously. “Yes, baby. Yes. A million times yes.”

 

My heart exploded. I slipped the ring onto her finger with trembling hands, and the moment it settled there, she launched herself into my arms.

 

We fell back onto the grass, both of us laughing and crying at the same time.

 

“I love you,” she whispered into my neck, voice breaking.

 

“I love you more,” I whispered back, holding her like I’d never let go.

 

Around us, the Sunken Garden was alive with cheers and laughter from other groups, but in that moment, the world shrank to just us—the graduate and her biggest fan, the overprotective girlfriend and the reckless one, the two girls who defied everything to love each other.

 

And now, fiancées.

 

 

 

 

After a while, we pulled back, both of us wiping our faces messily. Jalen stared at her hand, the ring glittering in the fading light.

 

“Ang ganda,” she whispered, her voice still shaky. “Pero mas maganda ka.”

 

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Corny ka na ngayon.”

 

She smacked my arm lightly, laughing through her tears. “Kanino pa ba ako nagmana?”

 

We lay there on the grass, side by side, staring up at the dusky sky. My nerves had finally settled, replaced with pure, unshakable joy.

 

I had asked. She had said yes.

 

And for the first time, the future didn’t scare me. It only made me excited.

 

Because whatever it held, I knew Jalen would be there.

 

Always.

Chapter 25: Truth

The past few months had been nothing but bliss.

Pure, uncomplicated happiness.

Every morning, I woke up knowing I had her—my fiancée. Jalen, the girl I once thought was too good to even look my way, now wore my ring on her finger. She was buried in her board exam reviews most days, but that didn’t matter. I was neck-deep in my fifth year too. We didn’t always have time for each other, but we had us. And for me, that was more than enough.

 

Until that night.

 

It was around 11:30 PM. I was sprawled on my bed, laptop open, trying to finish an outline for class when my phone buzzed.

 

Madison, calling.

 

I frowned. Madison? At this hour?

 

“Hello?” I answered, voice low so I wouldn’t disturb Jalen in the living room.

 

On the other line—chaos. Bass-heavy music. Laughter. Shouting. Then Madison’s voice, slurred and urgent:

 

“A-Anaiah? Hi. Sorry. Hindi ko kasi matawagan si Jalen. Can you—can you please… pick Madison up? She’s too drunk.”

 

I sat up immediately. “Wait, what? Nasaan siya?”

 

The caller rattled off the name of a bar near Katipunan, words messy and rushed.

 

My first instinct was to wake Jalen, but one glance at her—curled on the couch, glasses still on, review notes scattered around her like fallen petals, exhaustion etched into every line of her face—and I couldn’t do it.

 

She needed her rest.

 

So I grabbed my keys and jacket. “Stay there, Madison. I’m on my way.”

 

 

 

The bar reeked of sweat, alcohol, and cigarette smoke. Neon lights flashed across sweaty bodies, music pounding hard enough to rattle my bones.

 

I scanned the crowd until I spotted her—Madison—slumped against a table in the corner. Her hair was messy, eyeliner smudged, her glassy eyes barely focusing when they landed on me.

 

I hurried over. “Hey, get up. Iuuwi na kita.”

 

“Bakit ka andito?!” she slurred, pushing herself up on wobbly legs. “I don’t need you! Umalis ka na!”

 

I sighed, moving closer to steady her. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. You’re too drunk.”

 

But she shoved me weakly, her face twisting in anger.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

I froze. “What?”

 

“Fuck you…” Her words came out heavy with alcohol and something far sharper—bitterness. “For ghosting me. For leaving me five years ago!”

 

My breath caught. My mind went blank.

 

“What… what are you talking about?” I asked softly, utterly clueless.

 

But she only glared at me through her drunken haze, tears streaking down her cheeks. And suddenly, something sharp pierced through the air between us—something I couldn’t name yet. A truth I didn’t understand. But it was coming.

 

 

 

She staggered out toward the parking lot, and I instinctively followed. Madison fumbled with her keys, heading straight for her car.

 

“Bumaba ka!” she hissed when she saw me trail behind.

 

I grabbed the door before she could close it. “Ako magdadrive, ikaw ang bumaba.”

 

Her eyes blazed as she shoved me back. “Hindi ko maintindihan, Madison. Saglit lang. Why are you even mad?”

 

“Tangina!” she spat, voice breaking. “Ayokong makita ka, kaya bumaba ka na!”

 

I stood frozen, my hand still gripping the doorframe.

 

“You left me five years ago, diba?!” she screamed, her voice raw, cutting. “You fucking left me without a word! You made me feel loved, and then you disappeared. Left me in the dark!”

 

My chest tightened. The world around me blurred, but she wasn’t done.

 

“It’s so stupid of me to hope for something when I saw you on Tinder. But heck, you pretended you didn’t even know me! And worse—you fell in love with my best friend. My best friend. And here I am—” Her voice cracked as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Here I am, stupidly fucking in love with you still.”

 

That was it.

 

The final blow.

 

Everything felt like it was caving in on me.

My knees weakened, my palms went cold, my heart hammering so loud I thought it would break through my chest.

 

Her words spun around me in a blur, sharp and relentless.

 

Ghosting her?

Leaving her?

Tinder?

Best friend?

Nothing made sense.

 

But the look in her eyes—the pain, the betrayal, the raw truth she believed with every fiber of her being—

That was undeniable.

 

And I felt like the ground had just been ripped out from under me.

Chapter 26: AIAH

The night was quiet. Too quiet.

 

The road stretched out endlessly, an empty ribbon of asphalt lit only by the faint glow of the car’s headlights. The hum of the engine was steady, rhythmic, almost lulling me to sleep if not for the weight in my chest—the familiar heaviness that had started creeping in as the air grew colder.

 

Beside me, Anaiah slept, her head tilted against the passenger window, her breathing soft and steady. The faint reflection of the dashboard lights danced across her face, making her look even younger, almost childlike. She had always been that way when she slept—unguarded, serene, as if the world outside couldn’t touch her.

 

I should have woken her.

I should have told her I wasn’t feeling well.

But I didn’t.

 

I wanted to prove I was fine. That I could handle the drive. That I wasn’t fragile, that my asthma wasn’t the constant curse it had always been. She had teased me earlier—“Sigurado ka, ikaw magdadrive? Kaya mo ba?”—and I laughed it off, insisting I was okay.

 

But now, my chest burned. Each inhale was shorter than the last, my lungs tightening as though invisible hands were wrapping around them.

 

Not now. Please, not now.

 

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, blinking rapidly, trying to focus on the road ahead. My breaths came out ragged, wheezing, the sound too loud in the silence of the night. I pressed harder on the accelerator, desperate to reach home before the attack worsened.

 

Anaiah shifted slightly in her sleep but didn’t wake.

 

“Ani…” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Wake up…”

 

But she only stirred faintly, her lips parting as if in some gentle dream.

 

I tried to reach for my bag—my inhaler was in there, I knew it—but my hands were shaking too badly. The world tilted, blurred by the sting of tears. My vision doubled, headlights scattering into cruel halos.

 

Breathe. Just breathe.

 

I couldn’t.

 

The car swerved. My foot slipped, the wheel jerked, and before I could regain control, there was a blinding flash—metal against metal, glass exploding like shattering stars—then nothing.

 

Silence.

 

 

I don’t remember the sound of the crash.

I only remember the silence that came after.

 

Silence that felt too loud, too final, as if the world itself had exhaled and forgotten to breathe again.

 

When I opened my eyes, everything was sideways. My cheek was pressed against something cold—shattered glass or twisted metal, I couldn’t tell. The world was smeared in red and black, the acrid stench of gasoline and iron burning the inside of my throat.

 

I tried to move, but pain seared through me, sharp and white-hot. My legs wouldn’t obey. They were trapped—pinned under the crushed dashboard. My ribs ached with every shallow breath, a rhythm broken and uneven.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick.

 

It was the sound of something dripping—water, or maybe blood, or maybe gasoline. Each drop echoed in the suffocating dark like a clock, counting down.

 

I wanted to scream. To call for help. But all that came out was a ragged whisper.

 

And then I saw her.

 

Anaiah.

 

My twin. My other half.

 

She was slumped in the seat beside me, her head tilted to the side, blood streaking across her temple like a cruel painting. Her chest was too still, her lips slightly parted as if she had simply fallen asleep.

 

She looked so fragile, so unbearably small, despite being my mirror.

 

For a moment, I let myself believe she was just unconscious. That any second now, she’d stir, groan about the pain, curse at the universe the way she always did. That she’d look at me and we’d laugh bitterly about wrecking the car, about how stupid we’d been.

 

But she didn’t move.

 

Her ribs were crushed beneath the metal, her arms limp, her skin already paling.

 

Sleeping like a baby, I thought. The words came unbidden, cruel in their softness. She looked at peace, as if death had cradled her gently while leaving me broken and awake.

 

“No…” My voice cracked, barely audible. “Anaiah.”

 

I tried to reach for her. My hand stretched across the space, trembling, desperate. But pain shot through my side, through my legs, through my chest. My body refused.

 

The distance between us—mere inches—felt like a canyon.

 

“Anaiah,” I whispered again, choking on her name.

 

The car groaned as if mocking me, metal creaking under its own weight. Somewhere outside, faint voices shouted, distant and blurred. Lights flickered in the shattered windshield. But all I could see was her.

 

My twin. My reflection. My better half.

 

And she was gone.

 

⸻

 

Time lost all meaning. Minutes, hours—I couldn’t tell. Only the tick, tick, tick of the leaking fluid grounded me. My breaths grew shallower, every inhale a knife. My eyes refused to close, terrified that if I blinked, she would vanish completely.

 

I thought of the stupid fights we had.

Who got to use the bathroom first.

Who stole whose shirt.

Who Mama loved more.

All so trivial now, echoes of a life I couldn’t get back.

 

I thought of the promises we made as kids, whispering under the blankets at night.

“To the end,” we said.

“We’ll always be together.”

 

And yet here we were.

 

Her end had come.

And mine was still dragging on, cruel and merciless.

 

Why her? Why not me?

 

The guilt slithered into my chest like smoke, filling every broken rib, every shattered nerve. It wasn’t fair. She had always been the braver one, the kinder one. She deserved more life. She deserved tomorrow.

 

Not me.

 

Never me.

 

⸻

 

“Anaiah,” I croaked again, my throat raw. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

 

My fingers scraped against twisted metal, reaching, reaching, desperate to touch her one last time. To hold her hand. To tell her she wasn’t alone.

 

But I couldn’t. My body was a prison, heavy and unyielding. I was trapped, forced to watch her slip further away.

 

In that moment, I understood hell. It wasn’t fire or demons or endless darkness.

Hell was this.

Being alive when she wasn’t.

 

Tick. Tick. Tick.

 

The dripping grew louder, or maybe my ears weaker. My vision blurred at the edges, black creeping in like ink in water. I was fading.

 

And yet, even as the darkness pulled me under, I kept whispering her name. Over and over, a broken mantra.

 

“Anaiah. Anaiah. Anaiah.”

 

Until her name was the only thing left of me.

 

When I woke again, it was under harsh hospital lights. My body ached, wrapped in bandages, tubes tethered me to life. The beep of machines kept insisting I was still alive.

 

Alive.

 

But she wasn’t.

 

Anaiah was gone.

 

The news tore through the family like fire. Wails, sobs, prayers—our mother’s grief was the loudest, raw and unrestrained. She clutched me to her chest, tears wetting my hair, whispering over and over, “Anaiah… anak… bakit ikaw na lang?”

 

Anaiah.

 

She called me by her name.

 

I opened my mouth to correct her, to tell her, “No, it’s me. I’m Aiah. I’m the one who lived.”

 

But the words lodged in my throat.

 

Because it was my fault. Because I had taken Anaiah from her. Because I didn’t deserve to exist when my twin didn’t.

 

So I stayed silent.

 

I let her call me Anaiah.

 

And everyone else followed.

 

The funeral came, but in their eyes, I was already Anaiah. Nobody suspected. Nobody asked. Nobody looked closely enough to see which twin had survived. Maybe grief blinded them. Maybe denial. Maybe some cruel twist of fate allowed me to slip into her skin without question.

 

And I didn’t stop it.

 

Because being Aiah hurt too much.

Because Aiah was the reason Anaiah was gone.

Because living as Anaiah felt like punishment, like atonement.

 

So I buried myself with her.

And became the ghost that wore her name.

 

⸻

 

At night, though, I couldn’t escape it.

 

I’d hear the ticking.

I’d smell the gasoline.

I’d see her face, bloodied yet peaceful, sleeping like a baby in death.

 

And I’d remember the way Mama wept, calling me by her name.

 

Anaiah.

 

Not Aiah.

 

Anaiah lived.

 

And I—

I was never here.

 

 

 

 

 

I never knew silence could be this loud.

 

Madison’s words were still echoing, raw and sharp, cutting through the haze of alcohol and smoke in the air. The bar around us was noisy—music pounding, glasses clinking, people laughing too loud—but all of it dimmed beneath the weight of her voice.

 

Her voice wasn’t just angry. It was grieving.

 

“Five years, Anaiah. Five fucking years. You left me like I was nothing.”

 

My name—her name—hung between us like poison.

 

I opened my mouth, but nothing came. My throat burned. My chest tightened, the familiar wheeze threatening to rise. Not now. Please, not now.

 

Madison’s eyes were wet, bloodshot, her makeup streaked. She looked wild, undone. But even through the blur of drunkenness, her pain was clear. It wasn’t the anger of someone forgotten. It was the anguish of someone who had loved too deeply, only to be abandoned without reason.

 

And I… I had no right to stand here, wearing her name.

 

The weight of it crushed me all over again.

 

Because in that instant, everything I had tried to bury clawed its way back to the surface.

 

That night. The drive. The silence broken only by my wheezing breath. The sharp scent of gasoline and blood. Anaiah’s head tilted against the glass, peaceful in her sleep until she wasn’t breathing anymore.

 

We weren’t just driving.

We weren’t just going home.

 

We were on our way to Manila.

To surprise Madison.

 

Anaiah’s girlfriend.

 

⸻

 

The memory slammed into me with a force stronger than the crash itself.

 

Anaiah’s smile before she fell asleep.

The way she hummed to herself softly, like she always did when she was excited about something.

Her hand clutching a small paper bag on her lap—something she wanted to give Madison. A silly gift, probably. She was always like that. Small, thoughtful, sometimes impulsive.

 

She had whispered, “She’ll be so happy,” before her eyes closed.

 

And then I lost control.

 

I killed her before she could even give that gift.

 

Before she could see Madison’s smile.

 

And now here Madison was, standing before me, hating me, thinking I was her.

 

Her grief had nowhere to go but at me. And maybe that was right. Maybe I deserved it.

 

My lips trembled. My body shook.

 

“I…” My voice cracked, brittle as glass. “I’m sorry.”

 

The words left my mouth before I could stop them. They tasted like blood, like gasoline, like everything I’d been choking on for years.

 

Madison’s face contorted, fury and confusion mixing in her expression. “Sorry?! That’s all you fucking have to say after everything?”

 

I stumbled back, dizzy, the ground swaying. My chest heaved, every inhale ragged.

 

The images wouldn’t stop.

Her body beside me.

Her lips parted.

Her chest unmoving.

 

Anaiah.

My twin.

Her love.

 

My curse.

 

“I didn’t mean…” My vision blurred, tears spilling hot and fast. I could hardly see Madison anymore. Just her outline, her voice cracking in the air.

 

“You don’t even know what you did to me,” she whispered, softer now, but deadlier. “You ruined me, Anaiah. You loved me, then you vanished. You let me wait for nothing. You made me believe in something that wasn’t there.”

 

Her words twisted, tangled with the memory of my mother’s voice in the hospital, delirious with grief.

 

Anaiah… anak… bakit ikaw na lang?

 

I wasn’t supposed to live. I wasn’t supposed to exist in her place.

 

But I did.

 

And every day since, I had worn her name like a shroud, like penance, like a curse.

 

I felt the ground tilt again, my knees buckling. The sound of the bar dimmed, replaced with that awful ticking in my head. Tick. Tick. Tick. Just like that night.

 

“No,” I whispered to no one, to everyone. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

 

Madison’s face blurred completely now. All I could see was Anaiah—my Anaiah—her bloodied face, peaceful in death.

 

“I’m sorry,” I choked again, louder this time, as if it would matter, as if it could rewind time.

 

But the words weren’t enough. They never were.

 

And then everything went black.

 

⸻

 

When I woke, it was to voices. Distant. Urgent. A hand on my wrist, someone calling my name—her name.

 

“Anaiah! Hey—love, wake up! Please…”

 

The voice pulled me out of the dark, shaky and urgent. My eyelids fluttered, heavy, until light bled in—harsh neon from the bar’s sign above, the dim glow of streetlamps, and then her face.

 

Jalen.

 

Her brows were furrowed, panic etched in every line. She was crouched over me, one arm around my shoulders, the other patting my cheek lightly.

 

“Baby, you scared me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You just collapsed. I found you outside, God—akala ko kung ano na.”

 

I blinked slowly, my throat dry, my chest aching from the remnants of both the asthma and the storm of memories. For a moment, I couldn’t separate the past from the present. Her face overlapped with Anaiah’s, then with Madison’s, then blurred all over again.

 

“I…” My voice came out cracked, weak. “Jalen…”

 

“Shh, don’t talk. It’s okay.” She helped me sit up, holding me steady when my legs wobbled. Her touch was gentle, but her grip firm, grounding me. The faint scent of her shampoo, clean and familiar, cut through the smell of smoke and alcohol that clung to my skin.

 

Her presence was a lifeline.

 

“Let’s go inside, baby,” she murmured.

 

She practically carried me inside, guiding me to the couch. She pulled a blanket over me, crouching down to brush stray hair from my face.

 

“Drink some water,” she said, pressing a glass into my hands. I obeyed, my fingers trembling around the glass.

 

Her eyes searched mine, full of worry. “What happened back there? Bakit ka ba lumabas pa? Nagising ako wala ka dito.”

 

I forced a small smile, weak and unconvincing. “I'll buy some food lang sana.”

 

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she pressed her forehead to mine, her voice soft. “Please don’t scare me like that again. I can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. “I can’t lose you.”

 

The words gutted me.

 

Because she didn’t even know she already had.

 

 

 

That night, as she held me close, I stayed awake long after she fell asleep, listening to her steady breathing. My chest rose and fell in rhythm with hers, but inside, I was splintering.

 

Jalen thought she was holding Anaiah—the woman she loved, the one who wore her ring.

 

But in truth, she was holding Aiah. The ghost. The mistake. The thief of a life that wasn’t hers.

 

And for the first time since the accident, I didn’t just feel guilty.

I felt terrified.

 

Because I realized this secret wouldn’t stay buried forever.

 

Not with Madison back.

Not with the past clawing its way out of the wreckage.

 

And when the truth came, it wouldn’t just haunt me.

 

It would destroy Jalen too.

Chapter 27: Ghost

Everything inside me hurts.

It’s not just grief, not just exhaustion.

It’s the kind of pain that seeps into bone, into marrow, the kind that doesn’t scream—it lingers.

 

I was standing there, under a dim gray sky, the air damp with the promise of rain.

And in front of me, the cruelest truth carved in stone:

 

Anaiah Queen Arceta

Beloved daughter. Beloved twin.

 

I'm still here, alive—breathing, walking, wearing the face of the girl who was supposed to remain.

 

It tasted bittersweet. Like betrayal in my mouth, like ashes on my tongue.

 

I crouched down, tracing the etched letters with trembling fingers. Cold granite beneath my skin, sharp enough to slice through the fragile veil I had built these past few years.

 

“You should’ve been here, Anaiah,” I whispered, my voice cracking, dissolving into the wind.

“Not me. Never me.”

 

The memories clawed at me—the accident, the weight of the steering wheel pinning me, the last image of her beside me, peaceful despite the wreckage, blood staining her temple like a cruel crown. She hadn’t even known what was coming.

 

And now the world thought I was her.

Even my own mother couldn’t look me in the eye without calling me Anaiah, delirious with grief, too broken to face the reality that the twin she favored, the twin she cherished, was gone.

 

So I let them.

I let the lie grow roots.

I carried the name that wasn’t mine.

 

But here, at this gravestone, I couldn’t lie anymore.

 

The truth loomed above me, carved deep, a wound that would never heal:

I am supposed to be dead.

 

And in a way, I was.

 

Because though my body still walked this earth, everything inside me—my identity, my past, my right to love freely—was buried here, six feet beneath the soil, under the name I could no longer claim as mine.

 

I pressed my forehead against the cold stone, letting my tears seep into the earth.

 

 

The silence that followed was unbearable, heavy, suffocating. Only the rustle of leaves answered me, and for a moment, I swore I could hear Anaiah’s voice in the wind—soft, almost forgiving.

 

But I didn’t deserve forgiveness.

 

Not when I had stolen her life.

Not when I had stolen her love.

 

So I stayed there, breaking, whispering apologies to a gravestone that bore my name.

 

Alive.

But dead inside.

 

 

 

I tried to remain composed.

 

In front of Jalen, I had to.

Her boards were next week—the culmination of everything she had fought for, every sleepless night, every tear she thought I didn’t see. This was her moment, her dream almost within reach.

 

So I smiled. I laughed when she teased me about my messy notes, leaned into her warmth when she wrapped an arm around me. I played the role I had perfected these past years—the role of Anaiah, the girl she loved, the girl she thought she was marrying.

 

But inside?

Inside I was crumbling.

 

 

Now, every time Jalen looked at me with those soft eyes, every time she kissed my temple and called me her strength, I felt like a thief. A coward. An echo living in borrowed skin.

 

But I couldn’t let her see that.

Not now. Not when she needed focus, not when her hands already shook from the pressure she tried to hide.

 

So I swallowed the guilt. I folded it neatly, pressed it down deep where she couldn’t touch it.

 

Because loving her meant protecting her—from the truth, from me.

 

And maybe, just maybe, if I kept pretending long enough, she’d never see how dead I really was inside.

 

 

I leaned against the hood, cigarette between my fingers, watching the smoke curl up into the night air. The street was quiet, the only sound the low hum of faraway traffic.

 

Same car. Same model. Same color.

 

And every time I looked at it, my chest tightened.

 

Funny, isn’t it?

How fate led me back to the exact thing I once swore I’d never touch again.

The same car that broke me. The same car that carried Anaiah to her grave.

 

Funny how I force myself behind the wheel in daylight, pretending I’ve moved on. But the moment night falls, my body locks, my hands tremble, and all I can see are headlights colliding with shadows, all I can hear is the ticking of leaking gasoline.

 

So I stopped trying. I stopped driving at night.

 

Instead, I drank.

Bar after bar, glass after glass, strangers and noise filling the silence that used to devour me whole. If I drowned myself deep enough, I could forget. At least for a few hours.

 

Then came Jalen.

Jalen, with her tired eyes and stubborn smile. Jalen, who held my shaking hands without asking questions. She was light—warm, steady, unrelenting.

 

She made me forget.

She made me feel alive.

 

But ghosts don’t stay buried forever.

 

And now they’re back, creeping through the cracks, whispering through Madison’s drunken words, echoing in every shadow that lingers too long.

 

I flicked the ash off the cigarette, exhaling slowly. My chest tightened—not from the smoke, but from the question clawing inside me.

 

What do I do now?

 

Because the life I’ve built with Jalen, the love I’ve held onto like a lifeline—it isn’t mine. It was never supposed to be mine.

 

And maybe it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes crashing down.

 

 

My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking the quiet night. I stubbed out the cigarette against the pavement, the ember dying with a faint hiss, and pulled it out.

 

A notification glowed on the screen—Jalen.

 

Hi baby! I just got home from review center! All goods naman. Where ka? I need my recharge, how about movies and cuddles? And some kisses too? Uy payag na yan. Let me know hm? I miss you so much baby ko. I love you!

 

I stared at the words, my throat tightening.

 

Recharge. That’s what she called me. Her safe place, her warmth. The one she went home to when the world demanded too much.

 

And God, she meant every word. I could see her in my head, hair slightly messy from the commute, bag slipping from her shoulder as she kicked off her shoes, already searching for me in every corner of her condo. Her smile would widen when she saw me. Her arms would wrap around me, like she always did, as if I was all she ever needed.

 

If only she knew.

 

If only she knew that the person she was running home to wasn’t hers. That the name she whispered into my neck every night wasn’t mine to carry. That I was nothing more than a ghost wearing my sister’s skin, clinging to the life she should’ve had.

 

I typed back, fingers trembling:

 

On my way, love.

 

And before I hit send, I whispered into the empty night—words I could never say to her face.

 

“I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of this.”

 

But I pressed send anyway.

 

Because even if I was dead inside, Jalen was the only thing that made me feel alive.

 

 

The door clicked open, and there she was.

 

Jalen—messy bun, oversized shirt, her glasses slipping down her nose. She looked tired, but the kind of tired that still glowed with determination, the kind you carried proudly when you knew you were chasing something worth it.

 

Her face lit up when she saw me.

 

“Baby!” she squealed, rushing forward, bag and books tossed carelessly on the floor as she wrapped her arms around my waist. Her warmth pressed into me, grounding, anchoring, and for a second I almost believed I belonged here.

 

I hugged her back, burying my face in her hair. She smelled like coffee and rain, like the city clinging to her skin. She smelled like home.

 

“You’re cold,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to look at me. Her hands cupped my cheeks, her brows furrowed. “Nag-smoke ka na naman, no?”

 

I froze, caught. Her nose scrunched up in that way I secretly adored, half-annoyed but mostly worried.

 

“Just… one stick,” I muttered.

 

Her sigh was soft, resigned, the kind of sigh that forgave before it even scolded. She tugged me toward the couch anyway. “Halika na. I need my recharge.”

 

We sank into the cushions together, her legs tangling with mine, her head resting against my shoulder. She grabbed the remote, flipping aimlessly through Netflix until she settled on some random romcom.

 

But she wasn’t watching. She never really did. Her eyes would drift up to me every few minutes, catching me when I wasn’t looking, a small smile tugging at her lips like she couldn’t believe I was real.

 

“Baby,” she whispered, fingers tracing lazy patterns on my arm. “Thank you ha. For always being here. For being mine.”

 

The words stabbed and soothed at the same time.

 

Mine.

 

If she only knew.

 

I kissed the top of her head, forcing my lips into a smile she couldn’t see. “Always.”

 

Because what else could I say? That I am Aiah?

 

I couldn’t. Not when her boards were next week. Not when her whole world depended on this. Not when the weight of her love was the only thing keeping me from unraveling completely.

 

So I tightened my hold on her instead, pressing a kiss into her hair, whispering lies disguised as promises.

 

“I love you, Jalen.”

 

And she smiled, soft and content, like those words were all she’d ever need.

 

 

The room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner, and the faint laughter from the movie still playing on the screen. Jalen had nestled into my arms, her hair falling loose, tickling my chin as she shifted closer. I thought she had fallen asleep, her breathing slow and steady.

 

But then she tilted her face up, her eyes catching mine in the dim light, and smiled. That small, secret smile that made my heart stumble every time.

 

Before I could speak, she kissed me.

 

It was soft, deliberate, almost shy. A kiss that asked, can I?

 

I answered by deepening it, pulling her closer until our hearts collided in the space between us. Her breath mingled with mine, warm and unsteady, and I felt her hand slide against my cheek, her thumb tracing the edge of my jaw as if memorizing me.

 

I let my walls fall.

For the first time, I didn’t fight.

 

Her kisses grew hungrier, searching, tracing a map of devotion across my lips, my throat, the hollow of my collarbone. Each one was an offering, a vow.

 

Her hands explored me gently, reverently—never rushing, never demanding. She touched me like she was learning a sacred language written on skin, like every curve and scar was a verse she wanted to read over and over.

 

I shivered beneath her, not from fear, but from the weight of being seen. Truly seen.

 

“Baby…” she whispered against my skin, her voice breaking. “I love you.”

 

And oh, how it hurt.

Because she meant it.

Because she loved me with the kind of love that believed in forever.

 

I swallowed back the ache, tangling my fingers in her hair, and pulled her closer. My body answered what my lips couldn’t say—love me, even if I’m unworthy. Hold me, even if I’m already breaking.

 

She kissed me again, deeper this time, until the world outside dissolved into nothing. Until there was only us, breathless and trembling, moving together in rhythm with a truth too big for words.

 

Every sigh was a confession.

Every touch was a surrender.

Every heartbeat said what I couldn’t—I’m yours, Jalen. For as long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.

 

Time blurred. The movie, the night, the walls—they all disappeared. There was only her warmth, her devotion, her body pressed into mine as if we were two halves desperately trying to become whole again.

 

And in that moment, I wasn’t the ghost of Anaiah.

I wasn’t the lie carved on a gravestone.

I was just a girl in love.

 

When it was over, she held me like I was something precious, like I was her home. Her lips brushed my temple, her whispers soft, endless. “I love you… I love you so much.”

 

Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, hidden against her skin.

 

Because I knew I would remember this night forever.

The night I let myself feel her.

The night I let myself love her back without fear.

The night I pretended—just for a while—that I was worthy of her love.

 

 

The sunlight was pale when I opened my eyes, spilling through the curtains and painting the room in soft gold. Jalen was already awake, her head propped on one hand as she watched me, strands of hair falling loose around her face.

 

“Baby,” she whispered, brushing her fingers across my cheek. “Kapag nakapasa ako sa boards, magpakasal na tayo?”

 

Her voice was steady, but her eyes—God, her eyes—were so fragile, like she was holding her entire heart out to me in that single question.

 

I swallowed hard, blinking away the sleep. “Love…”

 

She looked at me expectantly, too innocent, too trusting.

 

My chest ached.

 

“5th year pa lang ako, love. I still have my apprenticeship, then boards.” My voice wavered as I tried to keep it light. “Paano kita bubuhayin?”

 

Her lips curved into a small, stubborn smile, the kind that always undid me. “Edi ako bubuhay sayo.”

 

Just like that.

No hesitation. No fear.

Her certainty was as simple as breathing.

 

And maybe that’s what made it hurt more—that she loved me enough to believe that was enough.

 

I reached out, tucking her messy hair behind her ear. “You say it like it’s that easy.”

 

“It is that easy.” She nestled closer, her forehead pressing to mine. “As long as it’s with you.”

 

I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of her words sink into me, even as my chest tightened.

 

If only she knew who she was really asking.

Chapter 28: Chapter Filler

“Galingan mo, baby ko! Paglabas mo dyan, RMT ka na ha?” Her voice was soft, but it carried that familiar push, the kind that always made me want to be better, to rise higher, just to make her proud.

 

I smiled, feeling the weight and warmth of her words. “Thank you, love. Gagalingan ko… para pag RMT na ako, papakasalan na kita.”

 

Her laugh, light and melodic, made my chest tighten. Then she stepped closer, and her lips found mine. Slow, deliberate—a kiss that made the rest of the world vanish. The hum of the street, the passing cars, the distant city lights… all of it dissolved, leaving only us. Her hands cradled my cheeks, grounding me, pressing care and love into me like a lifeline.

 

When we pulled back, her forehead rested against mine, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Go na, love,” she whispered. Pride, affection, and that tiny spark of teasing—always there—softened the weight of the moment.

 

Of course I noticed everything.

 

The quiet sadness in her eyes, the sorrow she tried to mask behind a laugh. How distracted she had been lately, zoning out into nothing, the brief frowns that passed so quickly they could be mistaken for fatigue. The way her fingers lingered a little too long on mine—or pulled away too soon.

 

It bothered me. How could it not? That’s why I always ask her to stay, even when she insists she’s fine. My heart won’t allow me to ignore it. I can feel when something is off, even when she refuses to say a word. I tell myself—after the boards, we’ll face it together. After the boards, she’ll stay, and I’ll help carry whatever burden she’s been hiding.

 

I lingered a moment longer, memorizing the curve of her lips, the tilt of her head, the light in her eyes—even when it flickered. Then I finally stepped down from the car, brushing her hand one last time, feeling the quiet reassurance that no matter the distance or the hours ahead, we were tethered together.

 

And for that brief instant, nothing else mattered but us.

 

 

 

“Mahal na mahal kita, Arceta,” I whispered.

 

She smiled, soft and genuine. “Mahal kita ng sobra, Robles.”

 

I chuckled, teasing despite the lump in my throat. “Corny natin ah.”

 

“Oo nga e,” she laughed. Then her voice softened. “Sige na, go na love. Galingan mo sa exam ha!”

 

“Anong gagawin mo today?” I asked, reluctant to leave.

 

“Um… probably cleanup my unit, love. Para pagdating mo, malinis, makakapagpahinga ka ng maayos,” she replied.

 

I reached out instinctively, gripping her hand gently. “Do not smoke, please. If you’re stressed, just… do something else, okay? Love, ayokong inaatake ka ng asthma, lalo pa at hindi kita mapupuntahan agad.”

 

Her eyes softened, and she nodded. “I’m sorry, love. Hindi na po.”

 

And in that moment, standing there in the quiet street with her hand in mine, I felt the gravity of our love—tender, fragile, and fierce—all at once.

 

 

Inside the exam room, the air smelled faintly of paper and disinfectant. Desks were arranged in perfect rows, the quiet hum of anticipation buzzing in the space between students. I settled into my seat, heart still lingering on the warmth of her hands, the softness of her smile, the way her eyes had held me just minutes ago.

 

Then, my phone buzzed. I reached for it cautiously, careful not to draw attention, and saw her name light up the screen.

 

"Galingan mo and wife me up after. See you later, baby ko. Madaming kiss ka sa’ken paguwi!"

 

A slow smile spread across my face. My fingers instinctively brushed my ring finger. The cool metal, the weight of the promise, grounded me.

 

We’ll be fine, baby, I whispered under my breath, letting the warmth of her love wrap around me.

 

And as I read her words again, my mind wandered. I’m excited… excited to get this exam done, tapos magpapakasal na talaga ako. The thought sent a little thrill through me, mixing with the nerves that had been coiling tight in my chest. Finally, all the waiting, all the stress, all the late nights—soon it would culminate in a life with her. My fiancée, my anchor, my partner in every sense of the word.

 

The nerves softened, replaced by anticipation and warmth. Everything else could wait. For now, I carried her in me—her words, her kisses, her love—tucked close like a secret talisman against the tension of the day.

 

And in that small, sacred moment, I knew: we’d be okay.

“Hindi ako naniniwalang ikaw ang nagluto! Binili mo ‘to, nilagay mo sa kaldero, tapos saka mo lang ni-reheat. Hindi mo ako maloloko, baby,” I said between bites, teasing her as I savored the sinigang she proudly claimed she had cooked herself.

 

She grinned, unapologetically proud. “Not lying nga! Nag-practice pa ako para d’yan. Post-board exam meal, sisig and sinigang for my wife. Nag-practice na ako ng wife duties, see? I cleaned, I cooked. First day as wives—done!”

 

We both laughed, the sound filling the small kitchen, soft and warm.

 

“Di pa rin ako naniniwala,” I said, raising an eyebrow, still skeptical but amused.

 

“Oh, you want us to go over the bin para lang makita mo yung mga balat ng gulay?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes, making me grin despite myself.

 

The moment felt ordinary and extraordinary at once—quiet, domestic, yet charged with that sweet, unspoken intimacy we always carried. It was just us, laughter bouncing between us, little jokes and proofs of love stitched into the everyday. And I realized again, amid the teasing and the sinigang, how much I loved this life with her.

 

“Wow, may pa-dessert?” I asked, surprised, looking at the small plate she had set aside.

 

“Syempre, para sa asawa ko,” she said with a proud little smile.

 

I studied her for a moment—how happy she looked, how bright her grin—but the bags under her eyes betrayed the exhaustion she was hiding. I shrugged it off for the meantime, deciding to let this moment be ours.

 

We enjoyed our simple meal, laughter bouncing between us, the comfort of home and each other wrapping around us like a warm blanket.

 

Later, we settled onto the bed, the soft sheets cool beneath us. She nudged me gently, a playful glint in her eyes.

 

“Oh, first night as wives, diba? Dapat ano?” she teased, stretching the words like they were a secret we both already knew.

 

“Ano?” I played along, raising an eyebrow, pretending to be clueless.

 

“Yung ano…” she whispered, letting the words dangle, teasing, making my heart race and a smile tug at my lips.

I leaned closer, and our laughter faded into quiet breaths and lingering touches. Her hand brushed mine, then traced a path along my arm. I could feel the warmth of her skin, the beat of her pulse beneath my fingertips, and it anchored me. Anchored me to this moment, to her, to us.

 

“Kapag nakapasa ka sa boards, magpapakasal na talaga tayo, ha?” she murmured later, her voice soft in the dim light.

 

I smiled, pressing my lips to her forehead. “Yes, baby. We’ll get there. Soon.”

 

Her laughter, light and airy, blended with the quiet night. Then, almost imperceptibly, our bodies drew closer, and her lips found mine again. Slow, deliberate, exploring the space between us that had been building all day—the teasing glances, the whispered words, the quiet reassurances.

 

Every touch carried weight, every kiss a promise. I memorized the curve of her lips, the warmth of her cheek, the way she pressed herself to me as if I were her safe harbor. And in turn, she memorized me—the rise and fall of my chest, the tremble of my hands, the pulse of my heartbeat.

 

Time seemed to stretch and fold into itself. The world beyond the room—the boards, the city, the noise—disappeared. We only had each other, only had this night, only had the quiet rhythm of love and trust between us.

 

I whispered her name, and she answered with a shiver of delight and a gentle laugh that made my chest ache. Our hands tangled, our hearts synced, and every brush of skin against skin was poetry—quiet, intense, and infinitely tender.

 

When we finally lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the tension of the world slowly leaving us, I brushed her hair behind her ear. “Always, love… always with you,” I murmured.

 

Her forehead rested against mine. “Always, baby ko,” she whispered back.