I hate family lunches.
Yung tipong kahit may pagkain sa harap mo, wala kang gana. Kahit sinabihan ka pa ng, “Kumain ka na, anak,” parang gusto mo na lang lunukin yung buong dining table para matapos na.
I stared at the long, polished table. Ginto yung mga utensils. Real gold. Custom plates from Europe. Pero kahit gaano ka-sosyal ng setup, everything felt cold.
Literal at emotional.
“Sit,” sabi ni Daddy, without looking at me. He was sipping his wine like this was just another boring business meeting. Mommy, naka-cross legs sa dulo ng mesa, all dolled up in pearls and silence.
Umupo ako.
Calix sat beside me, stiff, tahimik din.
Parang alam niya na rin kung anong klaseng lunch to.
He was wearing his usual button-down, sleeves rolled up. Malinis. Seryoso. Parang bodyguard na CEO.
"May napagkasunduan kami ng mommy mo," Daddy said, finally putting down his glass.
My jaw clenched. Here we go.
"You’re married. We both signed off on that dahil may dahilan. Hindi ito laro. At hindi rin ito condo hopping. From now on, you two will live together—"
“What?” I didn’t even try to hide the disgust in my voice.
“You heard me, Aurora.”
I turned to Calix, expecting him to say something. Anything.
Pero nakatingin lang siya sa plato. Di ko alam kung guilty ba siya o gutom lang talaga.
Mommy finally spoke. “It’s time. Enough na sa child’s play. Your marriage is real. Hindi kami nagbayad ng legal team para lang sa papel.”
“Tapos na ba kayo?” tanong ko, malamig ang boses ko. My heart was pounding, but my face? Flat. Expressionless.
Daddy raised an eyebrow. “Watch your tone.”
“Then stop treating me like property.”
"You are the future of this family."
My fists clenched under the table. Calix’s hand moved slightly toward mine. I flinched. Hindi pa ako ready.
Kahit pa sinabi ng katawan ko na gusto kong kumapit, hindi ko pa rin kaya.
Not in front of them.
-
The car ride back was quiet.
Sobrang tahimik na naririnig ko yung hum ng makina, pati heartbeat ko parang may sariling surround sound.
I leaned my head against the window, staring out.
The buildings blurred into each other.
Manila was suffocating.
Calix finally spoke.
“Sorry.”
I didn’t respond.
“They shouldn’t have ambushed you like that.”
Still, I said nothing.
“Pero... if it helps you feel safer, if it helps you sleep—then maybe it’s not so bad.”
Napatingin ako sa kanya.
That was the thing about Calix.
He says the dumbest things sometimes.
But in moments like this? He knows exactly what to say.
I hated that he had a point.
We packed that night.
Or at least, I watched Calix move our things. He didn’t complain.
Ni hindi nga siya nagtanong kung gusto ko ba talaga ‘to.
He just started packing up the essentials.
My clothes.
My sketchbooks.
Yung collection ko ng riding gloves.
Yung coffee machine ko.
Ayoko ng kape sa umaga pero gusto ko yung amoy.
I didn’t help.
I just stood by the glass wall of my condo, staring at the city.
My arms were crossed. Eyes heavy.
“Your new room has a bigger closet,” Calix said behind me.
“I’m not a trophy wife.”
“I never said you were.”
Silence.
He walked up behind me.
Not too close, pero enough para maramdaman ko ang presence niya.
“You can still hate me, Aurora. I won’t ask you to stop. But i want you safe.”
I didn’t answer.
But i didn’t walk away either.
The new unit was twice the size.
Same floor, just a different layout.
It felt foreign, sterile. Parang hotel suite.
Ang lamig kahit may carpet.
“You can pick which room,” Calix offered, placing the last box on the floor.
I ignored him.
Naglakad lang ako diretso sa master bedroom.
Hindi ko alam kung bakit ‘yun ang pinili ko.
Maybe because i needed a door i could lock. Maybe because i didn’t want to feel like a guest.
The bed was untouched. Malinis. Malambot.
I sat on the edge and stared at my hands.
They were shaking again.
Not because of Calix.
Not because of the move.
But because i knew this silence too well.
And i hated that it felt like home.
-
Midnight.
I was in the kitchen, drinking cold water straight from the pitcher.
Hindi ko na kinaya ang dryness ng throat ko. Calix was asleep, or at least pretending to be.
Then came a knock.
Isang mabagal, matinis na knock.
Three times.
Hindi sa pinto.
Sa salamin.
Sa mismong glass wall ng unit.
Napabitaw ako sa pitcher.
Who the hell knocks on a 20th-floor glass wall?
I turned.
Nothing.
Just the city lights.
But my reflection looked... wrong.
The version of me in the glass?
She was smiling.
And i wasn’t.