We ditched the gym. Screw it. I could pretend I'd worked out when I got home. Since we were both starving, we ended up at McDo.
The moment we stepped inside, the familiar smell of fries and grease hit me. Warm. Predictable. Comfort food for the soul—and for the soul-crushing chaos in my head.
We ordered at the counter—two sausage McMuffin meals with hash browns and iced coffee. I told Mia to grab a seat while I waited.
While standing there, my phone buzzed.
Jersey:
Are you guys at the gym?
Me:
Supposed to. Long story.
The crew finally called my number. I grabbed the tray and went upstairs, where Mia had already scored a seat by the glass window.
City traffic crawled below. People rushed past each other like ants with deadlines. It was barely 8 a.m., and the world already felt loud.
I slid into the seat beside her and set the tray down.
"Let me guess," Mia said, unwrapping her sandwich and stabbing her straw into the cup. "Syron?"
I froze mid-sip.
"I didn't say a name," I said, raising an eyebrow.
She smirked. "But your face says everything."
I didn't answer. Instead, I looked out the window, watching the slow-moving cars and the people rushing by. Anything to keep from spiraling again. From admitting she might be right.
Mia let me sit in silence for a minute. That was one of the things I liked about her—she always knew when to talk and when to let me fall apart quietly.
"You okay?" she asked, her voice softer this time.
I hesitated, then gave a small nod. "I'm just... tired. Of pretending everything at home's okay."
She didn't respond—just sipped her coffee and waited. That was Mia. No pressure, no judgment. Just space.
"I'm planning to move out," I said after a moment, almost like a confession.
Her eyebrows shot up. "For real?" She leaned back, studying me. "You serious about leaving?"
"I have to," I whispered. "He's planning to move her in, Mia. That woman. Tita Cheska."
Mia winced in solidarity.
"I'd rather choke on toothpaste every morning than eat breakfast across from her," I muttered. "I can't do it. She already hates me. And I hate her just as much."
Mia reached across the table and squeezed my hand—light but firm. "You don't owe anyone an explanation. Do what's right for you."
I nodded, even though my throat tightened.
What I didn't say—not out loud—was that having my own place wasn't just about escaping. It wasn't just about her. It was about reclaiming something.
Something I lost the moment my dad started treating me like background noise in our own house. Like I was the intruder.
That silence—the one he used like a wall—had been louder than any fight.
My thoughts drifted back to the gym, to Syron's face, to that brief flash of something I didn't want to name. Was that what I was running from too? Or toward?
Monday came. I peeked through the door of Gym 1, curious.
Kevin was there, seated on the bleachers, guzzling water and laughing—head tilted, relaxed. I followed his line of sight.
He was talking to a girl I didn't recognize. White crop top. Black leggings. Maybe from another department.
I told myself it was nothing. Probably just someone he knew. But still—my stomach twisted just a little.
Without hesitation, I walked in and called his name—just loud enough to catch his attention.
Kevin flinched slightly and stood up quickly. The girl beside him mirrored the movement, clearly startled. She avoided my eyes and mumbled a hasty excuse before walking off, almost tripping over her own feet.
I watched her go, my smile polite but distant.
"Who was that?" I asked, still tracking her retreat. Kevin took a slow sip from his water bottle.
"She's from the Folk Dance Troupe."
"I see."
I wasn't the jealous type. I didn't care if he talked to other girls. I wasn't the kind of clingy girlfriend who freaked out if her boyfriend so much as blinked at someone else.
But something about her laugh—too loud, too familiar—made the back of my neck itch.
I sat beside him.
"You're early today," he said with a smirk, nudging me. "That's new."
I rolled my eyes. "Duh. It's our anniversary. We're supposed to have breakfast together, remember?"
He blinked, genuinely confused for a moment. My chest tightened. Then he nodded, like the thought had only just landed.
"Oh—right. Our anniversary."
I pouted, suddenly feeling stupid for even bringing it up. Don't tell me he actually forgot...
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, babe. Training's been intense—I forgot."
There it was.
I stood, turning away slightly, heat creeping up my face. He caught my wrist and pulled me into a hug, arms wrapping around me with ease.
"I'm so sorry," he murmured, kissing my forehead. "I swear, it just slipped my mind."
"It's our anniversary," I said quietly. "How could you forget?"
"I know," he said, nodding quickly. "My bad. I really am sorry, okay?"
I tried not to soften, but his hug was warm. Familiar. Still—I pushed at his arm, which was heavier than necessary.
Damn those gym gains.
"Whatever," I mumbled.
That only made him laugh harder. He slung an arm around me and pulled me along with him like everything was fine.
We ended up at the KFC just outside campus.
While Kevin lined up at the counter, I slid into a booth and checked my phone. Notifications exploded across the screen—our group chat was chaos as usual.
Jhay:
Someone's getting lucky today 👀
I snorted and tapped a laughing emoji. Before I could reply, Jersey chimed in:
Jersey:
Ugh, I saw those two flirting in the middle of the gym earlier. What an eyesore!
I blinked. Wait—she saw us? I thought she was in the other gym.
Mace:
Jealous much? Then close your eyes! 🤪
I was still grinning when Kevin returned with the food.
"Thanks, babe," I said, accepting my tray.
He didn't reply—just sat down and immediately pulled out his phone, thumbs flying across the screen.
I went to grab gravy, poured it over my rice, and was just about to dig in when I noticed he was still glued to whatever conversation he was having.
I set my spoon down. "Babe, let's eat. You can check your phone later."
He didn't even look up. "You go ahead. Captain's messaging me."
I clenched my jaw but said nothing.
Training. Always training. Always someone else pulling his attention away.
I ate quickly. I had twenty minutes before class, and my building was on the other end of campus. No time to argue.
Halfway through my meal, Kevin finally set his phone down. His expression softened as he stared at the screen a second longer, smiling faintly. Then he caught me watching him.
His face shifted—like he remembered I was there. I didn't say anything. Just wiped my mouth, grabbed my phone, and messaged the group.
Everyone else was already at school. I looked at Kevin. He still hadn't touched his chicken. I had ten minutes left.
I stood and slung my bag over one shoulder.
"Babe, I've got to go. Class is about to start."
Kevin glanced up, fork hovering mid-air.
"I thought you wanted us to eat together?"
"I do. But it's my law subject. I can't be late."
I was about to lean down and kiss him goodbye when he cut in, eyes sharp now.
"You could skip. Just this once."
I blinked. "Kevin—"
"We barely see each other these days because of training. Can't you adjust for me, just a little?"
My jaw tightened. "Kevin," I said again—firmer now.
He leaned back, expression cooling. "Fine. Go. I know what matters more."
I froze.
For a second, I wasn't sure if I'd heard him right. My mouth opened, then shut again. There were too many people around to argue. Too many emotions already clashing inside me.
"We'll talk later," I muttered, turning away. He didn't stop me.
The sun was sharp when I stepped outside, but it didn't warm me. The heat just clung to my skin—heavy and suffocating. I walked fast, like I could outrun the conversation, the tone of his voice, the twist in my gut.
What was wrong with him today?
By the time I reached the building, my palms were damp. My bag felt like a burden I hadn't signed up for.
I slipped into class just as Attorney Lim walked in, the door clicking shut behind us with awful finality. I caught my friends' whispers—something about me being late—but I just shook my head and slid into my seat.
I was here physically, but my brain was still in that KFC booth.
I opened my law book, not even looking at the page. I just needed something to stare at—something to anchor me before my mind spiraled into places I didn't want to visit.
Kevin had been off since this morning.
First the girl in the gym—how she bolted like I was a fire alarm. Then him forgetting our anniversary. Then that guilt-trippy breakfast comment.
My chest felt tight, like something was pressing against it from the inside.
Attorney Lim started the lecture, his voice cutting cleanly through the air. Precise, steady. Like none of us had problems outside this room.
Something in my gut was screaming. Not just about class. Not just about Kevin. About everything.
And for once, I was done pretending it was all okay.