It was a typical Monday, and the first person I saw when I turned into the hallway was Syron.
I nearly crashed into his chest. My breath caught, and I almost jumped back in surprise. Panicked and mortified, I spun around and rushed off.
My two-inch heels clicked awkwardly against the floor, and I nearly tripped in my haste. I didn't dare look back—I already felt stupid enough.
By the time I reached the classroom, my heart was still pounding. I sank into my seat, trying to calm myself down. I felt like a mess.
Why do I keep running into that guy? Syron seemed to pop up everywhere—despite how massive this campus was. If the universe was trying to be funny, I wasn't laughing.
The professor came in, and the class settled. Susmita's group was up first for the report. We were next, so I began setting up my laptop, ready to plug into the projector the moment they finished.
As I quietly reviewed my part, a knock came at the door.
Everyone turned. I looked up and saw two SSC officers standing by the sliding window. One of them, of course, was Kenzo. The other guy was unfamiliar, but I recognized him as someone from a lower year—probably from engineering.
Sir Ryan stepped out to speak with them. I turned my focus back to my script.
Finally, lunch came. As usual, the cafeteria was packed. Jersey suggested we go to KFC instead since we had time to spare, and everyone agreed.
We walked to the main gate and waited by the side of the road. When a jeepney finally pulled up, it was completely empty. We all lit up.
Small wins.
We were loud and chatty—until I froze. Just a few meters ahead, sitting at the front of the jeep, was Syron. And Claire. Just the two of them.
My stomach dropped. I immediately looked away, pretending to be busy with my phone. But apparently, today wasn't done messing with me yet—because Kevin climbed in next, right behind us.
With Sharon.
They were holding hands. I didn't even need to check—my friends' eyes were all on me. I could feel it. That synchronized shift of attention, like a scene in slow motion.
Still, I kept scrolling on my screen, refusing to react. I focused on the glow of the phone as the jeep slowly rolled forward, stopping again just seconds later.
I dared to glance—and regretted it instantly. Syron was looking straight at me.
His eyes flicked to Kevin and Sharon first, then settled on me. Our gazes locked, and my throat tightened. I quickly looked away. My expression probably gave nothing away, but inside, my emotions were a mess.
Mia nudged me gently, but I didn't look at her. I didn't move. I just sat there, a blank slate, while the others filled the air with voices, laughter, and shameless chatter like nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, I couldn't even open my mouth. Not a word. Not even a breath that wasn't calculated. Syron's stare was burning holes into me. He'd chosen to sit across from me—where I couldn't pretend not to see him.
Claire had moved beside Sharon now. She didn't even try to meet my eyes. Typical. I wanted to smirk—just a little.
Kevin, on the other hand, looked like a statue. I watched him from the corner of my eye, stuck in some kind of daze. I let out a quiet, sarcastic sigh and shifted my focus back to my phone screen.
Ridiculous.
The entire ride, I kept my eyes locked on the phone, refusing to look up. But I could still feel Syron's eyes on me—sharp and unrelenting. His gaze was so intense, I thought I might melt under the weight of it.
"Damn it, what was that, Cyrene?" Jhay suddenly burst out as the jeep pulled away from the stop.
"What?" I asked flatly, pretending I had no clue what he was talking about.
"Who's that girl with your ex? Sh*t, it's only been a month since the breakup and he's already moved on?"
His voice was loud—too loud. I swallowed the lump in my throat, refusing to let it show. Truth is, I couldn't believe it either.
"Speed. Just like that," Mia muttered.
I gave a shrug, playing it cool. I didn't want to revisit that night—especially not now, not like this.
"I don't know," I said, sharper this time. "Why don't you ask him instead?"
That shut Jhay up, but only for a second. He shook his head and cursed under his breath—not at me, but at everything. He knew—they all knew—something had happened that night.
They just never said it out loud. Maybe out of respect. Or maybe they were afraid I'd finally break.
"Three years... replaced just like that?" he whispered. I didn't answer. But deep down, I knew exactly what he meant.
I've had enough of the kind of love that leaves me questioning everything.
Love shouldn't feel like a test I'm always one wrong move away from failing.
It shouldn't feel like silence after I've poured everything out, or like I'm the only one reaching across the distance.
If I'm being real—love should feel safe. It should feel like I can breathe.
Not like I have to shrink myself just to be enough. Not like I have to wonder if he'll choose me today, or if someone new will catch his eye tomorrow.
Love, for me, should be calm—not boring, but peaceful. Like late-night talks that make me feel heard. Like someone remembering the things I never said out loud. Like soft glances across crowded rooms that tell me, I'm here. I'm staying.
I want the kind of love where I don't have to pretend I'm not hurting just to keep someone from walking away. I want someone who notices when I go quiet and, instead of brushing it off, asks, Are you okay?—and actually waits for the answer.
I want effort. Consistency. Not flowers after a fight, but someone who won't let it get to the point of silence. I've had the kind of love that made me doubt myself.
Now? I want the kind that reminds me of who I am. And if that kind of love doesn't exist... maybe I'm better off holding out for it than settling for less.
When we entered KFC, Jhay finally quieted down. He knew I wouldn't answer him—no matter how angry or harsh his words got. I couldn't. I wasn't ready to speak.