As dessert was passed around—bowls of mango sago and leche flan disappearing fast—the laughter hadn't died down yet. In fact, it was only picking up speed.
May, already halfway through her second serving, leaned back with a grin.
"You know, we're all here. The husbands, the kids…"
Lana caught the tone immediately.
"The chaos. The food. The in-laws."
May shot her a wink. "Except…"
All eyes—not so subtly—drifted toward Rina, who was calmly sipping from her glass like she didn't notice.
"Don't even start," Rina said flatly, not even bothering to look up. "I already know where this is going."
But Lana was grinning too wide to stop now.
"I'm just saying… some of us at least tried dating in this century."
Rina rolled her eyes.
"Oh my god."
May jumped in.
"You know it's true. Your love life is a myth. Like unicorns. Or low electricity bills."
"I've been busy," Rina replied coolly, taking a sip from her glass. "With my career. And also, standards."
"High standards or non-existent social life?" Lana teased.
"She rejected a guy because he used too many emojis," May added for emphasis.
"He sent eight in one sentence," Rina said, unimpressed. "That's not flirting. That's punctuation overpopulation."
Celeste covered her mouth, trying not to burst out laughing. Ash, on the other hand, just leaned his cheek into his hand, watching like it was his favorite show.
"You're going to be the cool aunt forever," Lana said, raising her glass.
"Forever untouchable," May added with a grin.
Rina smirked.
"Good. I'd rather be single than end up with someone who calls eggs 'little protein buddies.'"
From the end of the table, May's husband—leaning casually against the kitchen counter—raised a finger.
"Okay, in my defense, I was trying to get the kids to eat breakfast."
Lana's husband chimed in, raising his fork.
"I don't even talk anymore. I've learned."
The table burst into laughter.
Ash shook his head, smiling at Celeste.
"This is every weekend."
"I love it," she said softly.
"Even the part where they gang up on Rina?"
"Especially that part."
Rina pointed a spoon at both her sisters.
"Laugh it up. When I do bring someone home, they'll be hotter than your husbands combined."
"Please do," May said. "We need the drama."
Celeste let out a laugh she couldn't hold back this time, and Ash gave her a sideways look, one of quiet affection.
And in that lively room, with the teasing, the warmth, the tangled love of siblings who knew each other too well, Celeste didn't feel like an outsider.
She felt like she'd stepped into something real.
Something hers.
And when Ash reached under the table and gently squeezed her hand, she knew he felt it too.
Home wasn't just where he grew up.
Home had shifted.
It was here—messy, loud, full of laughter—and now, it included her.
.
.
.
The house had finally gone quiet.
Ash lay on his back; eyes fixed on the ceiling.
His chest felt full—but not heavy. Just warm, like a blanket of leftover laughter. Still, one thing tugged at him.
Or rather, one person.
Even though she was just in the next room, he missed her.
"I wish I could be in the same room with Celeste… instead of Rina," he muttered to himself, rubbing his face.
With a sigh, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and opened their chat.
Ash:
Are you good there?
Did Rina ask too many questions?
He tossed the phone lightly onto his chest and stared back up at the ceiling.
A few seconds passed. Then his phone buzzed.
Celeste:
Don't sweat.
I'm fine, and yuh, they're asking a lot but it's fun.
Ash blinked at the message.
Then frowned.
"…They?"
He slowly sat up, a look of realization dawning across his face.
"Oh crap."
___________