The sunlight filtered through my curtains, soft and quiet. If it weren't for the ache in my chest, I would've thought it was just another Sunday.
I lay there for a while, listening to the distant clatter of plates downstairs. They were probably having breakfast. Together.
I checked my phone. A few messages from Kevin. A meme from Jhay. And Mia, as usual, had sent a photo of her breakfast with the caption: Manifesting brunch aesthetics 🤍.
I replied with a heart emoji but didn't open Kevin's messages. Not yet.
I pulled myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom, moving quietly, careful not to bump into anything—as if that would keep the silence between us from breaking.
I'd packed my things the night before, so after changing into my gym clothes, I stepped out of my room and walked straight outside. No more stalling. I needed air. Space. Silence.
The gym would do. If nothing else, I could stretch my muscles while trying to untangle the mess in my head.
I'd told my friends about the plan, but almost everyone was busy—weekends meant cheer practice, volleyball training, family errands. Just the usual. Only Mia was free to come with me.
Susmita had cheer, Yashina was looking after Lola Andeng and Salome, Jersey had volleyball, and Jhay—well, he was probably still passed out. He works nights now, so I didn't even bother checking.
I wasn't in the mood for breakfast either. When the housemaid called out, I told her not to prepare anything. Didn't take the car, either.
Kuya Ron needed it to drive Dad to the company—not that I wanted to be anywhere near that car anyway.
They'd be out late again. No surprise. Every end of the month, Dad holds meetings with each department to check the company's performance. He's so obsessed with work, you'd think the whole building would collapse without him.
Maybe that's one of the reasons I barely see him, even though we live under the same roof.
I walked from the house to the village gate, turning it into a light jog so I'd need less stretching later. Not that I was planning a full workout—I just needed to feel like I was doing something. Something that wasn't sulking or overthinking.
I flagged down a tricycle. The gym was close—just a short ride away. I texted Mia that I was on my way. She replied almost immediately—already in the car and headed there too.
When I arrived at the building, I went straight to the locker room. Tossed my bag inside. Tied my hair up. Glanced around.
The place was already buzzing—some people just getting in, others wrapping up their sets. Pretty standard for a weekend morning.
I was about to shut my locker when someone near the entrance caught my eye—and my heart dropped.
Chad. Captain of the basketball team. Okay. Not a big deal.
But before I could blink, another familiar face walked in right behind him. Kenzo. And right behind him was Claire—the only girl in their squad.
She had her arms around both of them, giggling like they were in some cheesy high school rom-com. I was just about to look away when Claire suddenly broke free and skipped toward the entrance.
Then she pulled someone in with her. A boy. Laughing, sweet and loud, as she tugged his arm. A few heads turned. I tried not to look. Really, I did.
But the figure was too familiar—my gaze snapped back on instinct. And there he was.
Syron.
Oh, for goodness' sake. Him again?
I whipped my head away, chest tightening. Panic clamped around my ribs, sudden and sharp. I froze, staring into space like a malfunctioning robot. Why was he here? Why now? As if it weren't enough that he'd already short-circuited my brain once.
It had been pouring that afternoon.
I'd just left my uncle's office—he was head of engineering at Dad's company, and I was dropping off some documents for a school requirement. I didn't expect to see anyone I knew. Certainly not him.
But there he was, coming around the corner in the lobby—tall, rain-damp, and with that unreadable smirk. I bumped into him, almost dropped my folder.
"Oh," I muttered. "Sorry."
He tilted his head, amused. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Same," I said quickly, trying to brush past, but he stepped aside and held the door open for me.
Rain slammed the pavement outside in a thick curtain. I stopped, blinking at it.
"You're not seriously thinking of walking in that," he said.
"I don't exactly have a choice."
"I could give you a ride."
I hesitated. "That's okay—"
"C'mon," he said, already moving toward his car. "I don't bite."
I had no umbrella. No other way out. And no time to argue. So I followed.
Inside the car, silence sat between us for a few minutes—until he spoke.
"So," he said, glancing sideways, "have you ever thought about trying me?"
I blinked. "What?"
He grinned. "You know. Just to see. If it works."
I couldn't tell if he was joking. His tone was light, almost playful. But the way he looked at me—serious, for just a beat too long—unsettled me. I gave a short laugh and looked out the window.
"Thanks for the ride."
And that was that. Until now.
Now, with him standing a few feet away, looking too real, too close, too impossible to ignore.
I ducked my head and pretended to look for something on the floor. A girl nearby gave me a weird look—probably wondering if I'd just lost my mind. I gave her a fake, sugary smile.
Nothing to see here. Just... bonding with the tiles.
I dared a peek. Syron had made his way to the treadmills, slipping in his earphones. The others were dispersing. And then—he looked in my direction.
Holy crap.
My body reacted before my brain could. I bolted, ducking behind the lockers with all the elegance of a half-panicked chicken. My shoulder smacked the wall. I winced.
"Damn it," I hissed, pressing a hand to the sore spot.
My phone buzzed, and I nearly dropped it. I fumbled with the screen. Mia.
I quickly lowered the volume before answering.
"What?" I hissed, trying not to sound like I was crouched behind gym furniture—which, unfortunately, I was.
Her voice came through, muffled. Something about the entrance. She couldn't figure out where to go.
"Fuck you," I muttered under my breath, eyes narrowing.
She wanted me to meet her at the front. As if she hadn't passed two signs and a literal map at the door. Classic Mia.
I peeked out again. Syron was already on the treadmill, eyes fixed ahead, earphones in. Totally in his zone. His friends were scattered, doing their own thing. No one was watching.
Good. Now or never. Thank God I'd brought a cap.
I tugged it low over my face, yanked my bag from the locker, and slipped out from behind the row like I hadn't just had a minor breakdown there.
Every step felt too loud. Too sharp. Like the floor itself was calling me out for being dramatic.
Six meters. That's how far they were from me. I counted it with every breath. Don't look. Don't turn. Don't even blink.
I was almost at the door when—
"Oh, why are you carrying your bag?" Mia's voice rang out like a firecracker.
She stood near the entrance, tilting her head, genuinely confused, eyebrows lifting like I owed her an explanation for my emotionally spiraling life.
I didn't answer. Just groaned and dropped down beside her on the bench like I'd been wrung out and tossed in the nearest gym bin.
I didn't even know why I acted like that. It's not like Syron ever did anything to me—well, nothing recent. But every time he was around, my insides twisted into a damn pretzel.
And now I felt humiliated. Again.