Felix's POV
A few days after the adobo dinner, I found myself back at Elisa's apartment. I'd told her I was coming to pick up some notes we'd promised to exchange, a flimsy excuse, but it allowed me to catch her parents alone. Elisa was still at a campus club meeting, which was precisely what I needed. This conversation wasn't for her ears, not yet. It was for them.
My initial approach felt alien. I was used to giving directives, not delivering uncomfortable truths about someone else's child. But seeing Elisa's haunted expression after Liam's appearance, knowing the full, ugly story she had finally shared… her parents deserved to know. They had a "slight idea" Liam was a jerk, but they didn't know the full extent of his cruelty.
Mrs. Reyes was in the kitchen, humming softly as she tidied, and Mr. Reyes was reading the newspaper in the living room. They greeted me warmly, their smiles genuine.
"Felix, dear! Elisa just left," Mrs. Reyes said, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Can I get you some juice?"
"No, thank you, Mrs. Reyes. I actually came a bit early because I… I wanted to speak with you both," I began, my voice more formal than usual. I could feel the stiffening of my own posture, the careful phrasing. This wasn't a business negotiation, but it felt just as delicate.
They exchanged a glance, their easy smiles fading slightly. Mr. Reyes folded his newspaper, placing it carefully beside him. "Of course, Felix. What is it?" His tone was polite, but his gaze was sharp, assessing. The protective father emerging.
I took a breath. "It's about Liam Foster." The name hung in the air, immediately altering the atmosphere. I saw the subtle tightening around Mrs. Reyes's mouth, the slight hardening in Mr. Reyes's eyes. They knew the name, knew it meant trouble for Elisa.
"We thought that was all behind us," Mrs. Reyes said, her voice quiet. "He upset Elisa very much in high school."
"He did," I affirmed, making direct eye contact with both of them. "But the extent of what he did, and what he attempted to do recently, is something I believe you should be fully aware of." I chose my words carefully, avoiding over-dramatization, focusing on the facts of the betrayal. "In high school, Liam Foster not only broke Elisa's trust, but he also publicly humiliated her."
Their eyes widened. This was new information.
"He took a very personal confidence that Elisa had shared with him – something deeply private about her family – and he exposed it. He turned it into a public joke in front of their entire class, for his own amusement." I watched their faces. Mrs. Reyes gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Mr. Reyes's jaw clenched, his face darkening with a mixture of shock and outrage. Their vague "he upset her" was being replaced by the sickening reality of malicious betrayal.
"He... he did what?" Mr. Reyes murmured, his voice laced with disbelief and fury.
"He took something sacred and made a mockery of it," I reiterated, my own voice tight with controlled anger. The sheer cruelty of Liam's actions resonated even with my own detached understanding of human malice. "That's why Elisa didn't go to prom, and why she broke off contact with him completely."
"Oh, Elisa," Mrs. Reyes whispered, tears welling in her eyes, "My poor girl..."
"That monster!" Mr. Reyes growled, pushing himself slightly forward in his chair.
"And recently," I continued, pressing the point home, "he approached Elisa at the campus bookstore. He claimed to still have feelings for her and attempted to pursue her, even after she explicitly told him no. He was persistent, disrespectful of her boundaries."
Mrs. Reyes looked utterly horrified, while Mr. Reyes was practically vibrating with rage. "He tried to force himself on her? My daughter?"
"He didn't physically force her, no," I clarified, careful with my words. "But he disregarded her clear and repeated rejections. His presence was unwelcome, and he continued to press the issue despite her discomfort." I paused, then added, "I intervened, and he left."
Mrs. Reyes quickly walked over to me, her hand reaching out to grasp my arm. "Felix, thank you. Thank you for telling us. And for… for being there for her." Her eyes were filled with gratitude, a warmth so direct it was almost foreign.
"He will not come near our daughter again," Mr. Reyes declared, his voice low and dangerous. "Not after this."
I merely nodded. The conversation was awkward, uncomfortable, but necessary. They deserved to know the truth, to be fully equipped to protect their daughter. For once, my "handling" wasn't about public image or corporate strategy. It was simply about protecting someone who, despite our vastly different worlds, had come to mean something beyond mere acquaintance. And seeing the raw, protective love in their eyes, so unlike the measured expectations of my own parents, solidified something within me. This was the right move. This was real.