Beginning

Saffron Rose “Saffie” Borromeo appears to have it all—top grades, family connections, and a guaranteed future in law. But appearances can be deceiving.

Maximiliano “Milo” Jose Delgado is her academic equal and complete opposite. Brilliant, intense, and fiercely independent, he seems to see right through her polished facade—and he clearly doesn’t like what he sees.

From their first day at the SCA- College of Law, they’re locked in a rivalry that goes beyond textbooks and test scores. It’s personal. It’s consuming. And neither understands why the other brings out such strong reactions.

But when good intentions collide with wounded pride, their carefully constructed worlds begin to crumble. Some secrets destroy trust. Some lies are meant to help.

And sometimes, the person you’re trying to save is the last person who wants your rescue.

Chapter 00

I woke up super early kahit na super late na rin ako naka-tulog kagabi—rather kanina. First day of class today. I believe that first impressions are super important! I mean, my parents told me not to be judgmental, but at the same time, it’s not like I can help it, noh! I judge based on what I see, otherwise, how will I know? Hindi naman ako manghuhula.

“What?” I asked when I saw Sage grinning at me. “Shut up,” I said.

I thanked Ate Mimi for the breakfast. They’d been with us since forever. I understand na busy sa work both parents ko, but it’s not like we ever felt neglected. Now that I’m older, I appreciated them even more. They’re both busy with their careers, but they never missed a milestone in our lives—present sila palagi. I guess that’s why I have this… need to be ‘perfect.’ Because my parents already gave me everything. I felt like if may hindi ako nagawa na tama, it’s all on me. It’s my fault. Ako ’yung kulang.

“Di ka pa nagsisimula sa law school, haggard ka na.”

“My god, I really should’ve eaten you nung nasa uterus pa tayo.”

“You should’ve—parang ’di kaya ng current brain capacity mo ’yung law school.”

I groaned. “Why are you even here again?!”

Sage moved out months ago, but then again, he was forced to come back because this jerk will die if he lives alone! We were all equally shocked when we visited his condo… if matatawag pa ’yon na condo. He was living in filth! Our parents had to drag him back home because they were worried that he’d somehow die from hunger… which honestly could happen… because sometimes when he’s super busy with his game, he forgets to eat.

After Sage ruined my morning, I went upstairs to prepare for school na. My parents were excited with the idea of me going to law school—I mean, honestly, Dad’s not a big fan… but then siya na rin iyong laging nagsasabi sa amin na gawin lang namin whatever our heart’s desire is… which I think kinda backfired on them when right after high school, Sage told them that he had no intention na magcollege.

Whatever.

I can do law school—I am my parents’ daughter.

Since I believe that first impressions are important, I made sure that I dress the part. I wore a high-waisted blue pants and white top. I studied the dress code of SCA—I was sure that I was compliant. I also made sure that I was wearing my heels. I just feel more… powerful when I wear them.

I was dropped off at the school early. I headed straight to the library. I chose to believe in mom when she told me to study kahit first week pa lang. Dad told me na wala namang papasok na prof sa first week, so might as well ’wag na raw akong pumasok sa school. He’s such a bad influence.

My first subject is Criminal Law. Thank god. The other subjects were super boring. I mean, I understood them naman, but that doesn’t make them any less boring.

“Whoa…” I uttered to myself when I saw that the library’s already almost full—considering it was only past 7AM! Mom wasn’t kidding when she said that the competition in SCA’s tough.

I studied the past week naman but upon seeing everyone super serious while studying, I felt the urge to study even more. I believe in my parents’ superior genes but at the same time, wala naman akong masasagot talaga if I do not read the assigned readings! Saan ko naman kukunin mga sagot ko if hindi ako magbabasa?

As much as I was pressured to study even more, I didn’t forget to eat during lunch time. My parents repeatedly told me that as much as good grades are important, health is much more important. I knew that they’d also drag me out of law school if mapabayaan ko iyong health ko kaka-study—like how they dragged Sage back to our house… but in my defense, Sage was living in filth!

I didn’t like the food sa cafeteria so I went outside to buy my lunch. I just bought a sandwich and iced coffee. I wasn’t super hungry. Whenever I was focused on something, the last thing I think about is eating. I just really needed to eat because of my parents.

“I’m sorry?” I sarcastically said when someone bumped into me. Thank god maayos iyong pagkakalagay ng lid don sa may iced coffee ko, otherwise tumapon na siya sa well thought of outfit ko.

Instead of just doing the right thing and apologizing, the guy just stared at me—he looked at me like he was trying to figure out kung saan niya ako nakita before. He was staring so hard na napa-tingin na rin ako sa kanya. I quickly noticed that sharp jawline because it mirrorred how sharply he was staring at me.

“What?” I asked again, a bit annoyed this time because why was he staring at me like that? Did I know him? I mean, if we met before, for sure I would remember him! He’s kinda cute but he’s freaking me out with how he’s staring at me!

My lips parted when he just walked away without even saying sorry for bumping into me!

Rude—that’s my first impression of him!

---

I didn’t want to be pissed at that guy so I tried my best to forget about him. I just went to the garden and quietly enjoyed my lunch. Sage was streaming, so I was using my dummy account to annoy him. It’s just something I do for fun.

After I finished my lunch, I went back to the library. My lips parted once more when I saw that the table beside me was already occupied—and my things were transferred to my table!

“Hi?” I said to the rude stranger.

Instead of using his words, he just stared at me. Oh, my god! Why was he already so annoying?!

I wanted to lecture him about not touching other people’s stuff, but the library was full of people studying so I had to bite my tongue and not say anything. I tried to ignore him but my god! Why was he studying Criminal Law din?! Did that mean na classmates kami?!

It wasn’t as if I was studying lang at the risk of me being classmates with this arrogant dude, noh! But thinking about the possibility na classmates kami?! And what if matawag ako for recit tapos hindi ako maka-sagot?! Tapos magsmirk ulit siya sa akin?! The thought of it was stressing me out already!

I studied like my life depended on it.

Dad told me that for the first half of the semester, we’ll just be focusing on the different elements and circumstances of crimes and offenses. I was already familiar with them because dad’s a judge and sometimes I read the decisions he pens. Still! The thought na classmate ko ’tong rude na katabi ko and hindi ako maka-sagot? My pride would never let me live it down!

The class would start at 6PM and I planned to go sa classroom ng 5:30PM because I wanted to sit in front.

Oh, my god.

Sabay pa kaming tumayo!

“What?” I asked again, my brow arched, kasi tumingin siya sa akin nung sabay kaming tumayo.

Instead of saying something, he just gave me a quick cold glance then he walked away! My lips parted yet again! What the heck did I ever do to him?!

---

On my way to the classroom, I was still hoping na hindi kami classmates… I mean, marami namang section sa first year, right? Marami naman doon na first class ang Criminal Law? I actually wanted to check earlier kung may iba pa bang section ang may first class na Criminal Law but then again, what if kami lang ang may ganon? My god!

“Seriously…” I once again uttered under my breath.

Nasa labas pa lang ako ng classroom, kita ko na agad siya. I mean, how could I not see him?! Aside from the fact that he’s super rude and super annoying… fine, he’s also very attractive! But still! He’s super annoying! Whatever did I do to him? Siya nga muntik na ako matapunan ng coffee kanina! Didn’t even apologize!

I was giving him the death glare from outside but then I noticed na papasok na iyong ibang tao sa classroom. Pumasok na ako agad kasi I was afraid na mapuno lahat nung ibang vacant seat. The ultimate horror of my life kapag magkatabi pa kami sa class!

The rude guy was sitting sa front. At one point, I considered sitting sa likod… but then again, why would I change my plan just to accommodate him? Plan ko naman talaga na sa harap maupo. Sabi ni mom, mas maganda sa harapan para less distraction.

With my chin held high, I sat doon sa vacant chair near him. At the very least, may isang vacant chair in between us.

He looked at me. I just arched my brow at him. If hindi niya ako gagamitan ng words, tataasan ko na lang siya ng kilay. Mag non-verbal communication na lang kaming dalawa.

I tried so hard to mind my own business. I was just reading my book but for some reason, I felt suffocated. I stood up, but this didn’t mean defeat! I just wanted some air to breathe!

My dad often jokes around but I was pretty sure na ’di niya naman ako lolokohin na walang class kapag first day. So, I was just standing outside the room. I saw that Sage was still streaming, so as usual, as a loving twin, I sent him anonymous annoying messages.

I was snickering because I saw that Sage was reading my messages. This dummy. Sabi niya sa ’kin before hindi siya nagbabasa ng messages… Men are such liars.

“Saffron!”

Napa-tingin ako sa tumawag ng name ko.

“Tito—I mean Dean,” I said since I needed to be formal since he’s the dean of the school. I guess it will take some getting used to because I grew up just calling him Tito.

Tito was just asking me about some stuff when I noticed that some of the people from my class were looking at us. Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable. I knew how this would look.

“Didn’t your dad tell you na wala namang class kapag first week?”

“He did,” I said with a smile kahit sa totoo lang, I was starting to feel so conscious. If only I could tell Tito na ’wag na lang kami magpansinan sa school… Kahit na I know myself naman na wala akong ginagawa na masama. I took the entrance exam and passed. It wasn’t as if I asked for help—heck, even my parents didn’t know. They just learned when I already passed the entrance exams.

“What’s your class?” he asked.

“Crim Law.”

“Oh, that was your dad’s favorite back in law school.”

“Dad said Torts is his favorite,” I said.

“Really?” he asked, a bit confused kasi sino ba naman nga ang magkaka-favorite sa Torts? My dad’s just a special kind of weirdo.

“Very well, you can go home and have dinner with your family. Wala pa namang final list of professors,” Tito said.

I just smiled. “Noted. Thanks, Tito.”

Tito said some stuff about having dinner with my parents nang bigla akong mapa-tingin sa may pinto. I felt a disturbing force… and true enough, the jerk was looking at me with his forehead creased.

“What?” I asked again when Tito left.

Instead of using his words, he scoffed and whispered, “Nepo baby” loud enough for me to hear. What the heck was his problem?!

**

This story is already at Chapter 03 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at 100php per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 01

“Nepo baby my freaking ass,” I uttered under my breath as I desperately tried to remember the important details of the case that I was reading. And was it my fault that my parents did well for themselves?! It wasn’t as if it was handed to them—whatever they have now, my parents fought tooth and nail to have them. Ugh! So annoying! Why was he talking about me like he knew me?!

I stopped biting midway when I realized that I must look deranged to the people around me. Kanina pa ako nagsasalita mag-isa while angrily eating my sandwich. Wala talaga ako sa mood maglunch but I needed to have lunch. I would rather na magstudy ulit kasi parang biglang wala na akong karapatan na magkamali. I was pretty damn certain na if hindi ako maka-sagot sa class, makaka-rinig na naman ako ng nepo baby comment and I couldn’t promise myself na ’di ko siya sasakalin kapag nangyari ’yon.

After I finished my lunch, bumalik na ako library. Just to be safe, nandon ako naka-upo sa dulo na part. The vacant seat beside me, nilagay ko don ’yung bag. I even put a note ‘please do not touch.’ You’d think na nasa law school na kami, people would have the common sense. Apparently not!

Thankfully, the universe cooperated with me kahit papaano. There was no appearance from that rude jerk—na hanggang ngayon hindi ko pa rin alam ang name. I was just praying na sana nagwithdraw siya from enrolment. Ang hirap na nga ng law school, imagine may built-in hater pa ako? To think na may hater na ako sa bahay also known as Sage?

When 5:30PM came, I got out of the library and walked towards the classroom. There was already this… unspoken agreement. And unfortunately for me, doon na ako naka-pwesto sa malapit sa jerk na ’yon. Mabuti na lang talaga may space between us kasi imagine my stress if katabi ko talaga siya?

Wala pa iyong epal when I arrived at the room. Nilagay ko muna iyong mga gamit ko. Everyone was busy doing their own thing. Lumabas muna ako. I knew I did my part naman—I studied more than I had studied my whole life but still… this is law school… and apparently, nepo baby din ako!

I went to the bathroom first. I stared at my reflection.

“You can do this,” I told myself. “You’re a nepo baby.”

I mean, might as well embrace the title! As if mababago ko kung sino ang parents ko?

I kept on giving myself my little pep talks. After a while, lumabas na ako sa CR… and lo and behold kung sino ang naka-salubong ko.

The rude jerk stopped on his tracks when he saw me. I arched my brow at him. He just stared back at me equally—he even cocked his head to the side. My god! How can someone be so annoying without even saying a word?!

“Jerk,” I uttered as I walked away.

“Nepo baby,” he replied.

“I am not a nepo baby!” sabi ko while we were walking side by side papunta sa classroom.

“Said the nepo baby.”

“I am not! If any, I’m just a baby—”

I quickly paused when I realized what I was saying. See? My brain malfunctioned because of this hater!

“You want me to call you baby? “ he asked, his brow slightly arched and how I badly wanted to claw the smirk on his annoying face.

“I—” Then I paused because for the first time in my life, I was speechless!

---

Pagbalik ko sa room, I tried to look around kung may iba pa akong pwedeng lipatan but occupied na lahat ng seats. Was it too bad of me to wish na sana may magwithdraw sa enrolment para magka-space ako na lilipatan? Honestly, it’s for my mental health. Stressful na nga ang law school itself, may hater pa sa paligid ko?

For some reason, napa-tayo rin ako nung biglang tumayo iyong mga tao sa room before ko ma-realize kung ano iyong nangyari. Biglang lumakas iyong tibok ng puso ko.

‘My god,’ I thought to myself when I saw that our professor finally arrived. He was wearing a white short-sleeved barong and he placed his briefcase on the table. I heard stories from my dad kung paano iyong scariest moments sa law school life niya ay kapag nakikita niya iyong yellow class cards… and true enough, I felt like my stomach was betraying me when I saw those yellow class cards.

My god.

What had I gotten myself into?

Sir was brief in his introductions—he currently works as a prosecutor and he’s the class valedictorian of his batch. I mean, duh? By invitation lang naman bago ka maging prof dito sa SCA.

“I will not be taking your attendance,” he said. “Recitation is not by rounds. If you’re called and you’re not present, you’ll get a grade of 0.”

My lips parted.

Zero? Not even 65?!

“Any questions?” he asked.

Everyone was speechless.

Wow, SCA is not called the top law school for nothing.

“If there’s none, let’s proceed with the recitation,” he said as he pulled the lucky class card. “Delgado.”

I was about to look around when the person beside me stood up.

Oh, so may last name pala siya—I thought bigla lang siyang sumulpot sa earth.

“Mala in se and mala prohibita,” Sir simply said.

I looked up at the jerk. He looked pretty confident—I mean, as he should! Kapal naman ng mukha niya maging hater ko if ’di naman pala siya magaling sa class. Mahiya naman siya sa akin kahit konti.

“Mala in se refers to crimes that are wrong by their very nature—inherently evil acts like murder, rape, theft. These are universally condemned regardless of statutory law. Mala prohibita crimes are wrong merely because they’re prohibited by statute—like traffic violations or regulatory offenses. The distinction matters because mala in se crimes typically require criminal intent, while mala prohibita crimes often don’t require proof of intent to harm,” Delgado recited.

I didn’t hear him stutter—he recited like he knew the answers at the back of his hand.

Fine—I was impressed… but like not really. Ang dali lang naman ng tanong sa kanya.

“Borromeo.”

I felt my body freeze.

Really?! Ako na agad?!

I drew a deep breath as I stood up. Calm down, Saffie. You studied—you studied a lot. You got this.

“Same question,” he simply said.

Okay, I can do this.

That annoying jerk already said the basic answer. Of course hindi ko na pwedeng sabihin ’yon kasi mukhang ginaya ko lang iyong sinabi niya. It’s like I can already hear him calling me nepo baby if sabihin ko rin iyong sinabi niya kahit ’yon naman talaga iyong textbook definition.

Instead, I briefly closed my eyes and took another deep breath.

“The distinction is crucial for determining the burden of proof. In People v. De Gracia , the Supreme Court clarified that in mala in se crimes, criminal intent must be proven beyond reasonable doubt. However, in mala prohibita offenses, the prosecution need only prove that the prohibited act was committed voluntarily—criminal intent is conclusively presumed,” I began. I distinctly remember this case because my dad often cites this sa decisions niya.

“The Supreme Court in De Gracia explained that for mala prohibita crimes, ‘it is sufficient that the offender has the intent to perpetrate the act prohibited by the special law.’ This means good faith and absence of criminal intent are not valid defenses. The case involved illegal possession of firearms, where the Court held that while criminal intent need not be proven, there must still be animus possidendi—intent to possess—but without regard to any felonious purpose.”

I looked at my professor. He hasn’t asked me to sit down yet, so I took the opportunity to continue with my recitation kasi… wouldn’t it be weirder if maupo na lang ako bigla?

“With regards to the nature of the criminal liability, mala in se crimes focus on moral culpability and require proving the accused’s evil intent. Mala prohibita crimes prioritize public welfare and regulatory compliance over individual moral fault. As the De Gracia decision noted, ’a person may not have consciously intended to commit a crime; but he did intend to commit an act, and that act is, by the very nature of things, the crime itself.”

As I finished reciting, rinig na rinig ko pa rin iyong tibok ng puso ko. Ano pa ba ang itatanong niya sa akin? Feel ko one year na akong naka-tayo!

“Reyes,” he said as he pulled another class card. “Case of People v Garcia.”

That was a good thing… right? Kasi if he asked the question again, it meant na hindi siya satisfied sa answer ko? I was grinning to myself nang mapa-tingin ako sa gilid ko.

“What?” I mouthed when I saw him staring at me once again.

He didn’t say anything. Good. Nepo baby my ass. Did my parents answer the recit question earlier? I think not.

---

When Sir left the room, it was so noticeable kung gaano katahimik sa classroom. Usually, medyo maingay naman sa room—not totally maingay like people are gossiping but maingay enough na may mga nag-uusap naman. But after that recitation rounds? Wow. A needle could drop and we would be able to hear it.

I was fighting a grin off of my face kasi I felt like maganda iyong recitation ko. I wasn’t insensitive naman, noh. Marami sa amin iyong hindi naka-sagot. When Sir started to call for recitation don sa mga cases assigned, when he noticed na maraming hindi nakaka-sagot, puro cases lang ’yung tinawag niya. Sadly, a lot fell victim to that.

“Buti ka pa maganda ’yung recit mo,” the girl behind me said.

“Oh, I was lucky lang,” I replied kahit sa totoo lang, it wasn’t luck. I really studied my ass off. I’d sacrifice my sleep just to make sure na covered ko lahat ng topics. Para sa isang nepo baby na kagaya ko, ang embarrassing naman kung hindi ako makaka-sagot.

She pouted a little. “Ang dami kasing cases.”

“I know,” I replied. My eyes widened a little. “Oh! Do you want to make a group? Like for case digest?”

“Meron naman na sa internet,” she said.

I was quite surprised with what she said. I mean, for sure marami naman talagang digests available online, but then again, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose? Because when I asked my parents before, they said na it’s okay naman na gumamit ng digest but if I have time, it’s way better to read the entire case and to make my own digest. It will help me come BAR exam.

I didn’t know how to phrase my reply without sounding condescending, but before I could even reply, some of our classmates chimed in and said that they’ll join our group digest.

“Milo, you in?” biglang sabi nung isang guy. I still was trying to remember everyone’s name.

But then the hater beside me nodded.

Oh, so may name pala siya.

Milo? Ano siya? Energy drink?

“No, thanks,” he said as he threw me a quick look. I almost clutched on to my imaginary pearls! Whatever did I do to this guy?!

**

This story is already at Chapter 04 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at 100php per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 02

In one of my dad’s many kwentos, he told me that the world of law is so unbelievably small—so don’t make enemies when unnecessary… but then again, he told me also not to compromise my integrity for anything else. Tapos the ending of his kwento was it’s up for me to decide pa rin which battles to choose. Honestly, sometimes, I feel like gusto lang kaming kausapin ni Dad for the sake of it.

But this was not the battle that I chose.

I had high expectations considering na we’re from Section S. Did they honestly think that I wouldn’t notice that they just got their digests online? They’re super incomplete and sometimes, mali pa ’yung topic discussed sa topic na dapat kasama sa may case digest.

But then again, I didn’t want to make enemies. I just sent them the digest that I personally made. I didn’t bother to use the digests they copied from the internet. E ’di if ganon, ako na lang sana iyong nagdownload online.

I planned to go to school early. Sage kept on looking at me like I had lost my mind kasi bakit daw super aga ko sa school considering na gabi naman iyong classes ko. I gave him an equally weird look kasi bakit papasok ako sa school e papa-tulog pa lang siya?

“Make sure to indicate in your last will and testament that you’re leaving all your assets to me,” I said as he was eating his breakfast na I think it’s his dinner?

He made a face. “Asa ka pa.”

I walked towards him and hugged him as he tried to push me away. “Love you, twin,” I told him and he acted disgusted. Sage’s super rich. I still don’t understand internet money, but good for him, honestly. He even gave me my dream car nung birthday namin! So, my contribution to his career are my hater comments during his streams.

I gave him a kiss on the cheek before I went outside. I was dropped off sa school. Dad told me not to drive na pauwi kasi alam niya na maaga ako palagi sa school. Basically whole day of studying and tama naman siya na the last thing I wanted to do after school ay ang magdrive pa pauwi.

It’s been almost two weeks since class started. Two weeks na rin ako sa may pwesto ko sa library na parang meron na ring silent agreement that that’s my seat. Kaya naman kahit past 7AM na ako dumating, free pa rin iyong seat ko.

My last subject for the week was Constitutional Law. Kinda boring, but it’s okay. Konti lang ’yung cases assigned but super haba.

I spent my day as usual—I studied for my class, forced myself to eat my lunch, watched Sage’s stream while I was eating my lunch, went back to the library to study some more, and then finally, it’s time for class.

Pagdating ko sa classroom, I immediately noticed na maraming nag-uusap… which was weird but a good kind of weird, honestly. Two weeks na kaya kaming classmates pero so far ang bonding pa lang namin ay mga recitations that left us traumatized. Like wala ba kaming outside classroom bond?

“What’s the tea?” I immediately asked when I got settled sa seat ko.

“According sa other class, ’di daw papasok si Sir today.”

“Really?” I asked. I immediately got excited. Pumasok kasi lahat ng prof this week. Prepared naman ako always sa class, but it wouldn’t hurt na walang class today. At least lahat ng inaral ko for this class, I can still use pa next week. Nakaka-pagod kaya!

After a while, dumating na rin si Milo. I pretended that I didn’t see him kasi wala lang. He quietly took his usual spot. I was chatting with our classmates but I saw from my peripheral vision how he stretched his neck to the side, his right hand cupping the back of it as he worked out the tension from hours of studying.

But apparently, hindi na pala ako from my peripheral vision naka-tingin kasi biglang tumingin sa akin si Milo with his forehead creased and his brow slightly arched like he was asking me ‘What are you looking at?’

I immediately turned my head back to my other classmates. Tsk. Bakit ba ang hater niya? Nagkita na ba kami before? Super impossible kasi for sure if nagkita na kami before, I’d definitely remember him!

He’s super duper annoying but fine, he’s definitely my type. He’s tall, lean, and I love his olive skin tone—sometimes, against my will, kapag nakikita ko ’yung skin niya, napap-isip ako… does he spend his weekends in La Union surfing? Because I could totally see that! He definitely looked like the type.

Also, why was he calling me a nepo baby? If I know, baka mas nepo baby pa siya sa ’kin! As if ’di ko pansin iyong Tom Ford polo shirts niya! It’s like a pot calling the kettle black!

“You guys want to have dinner?” someone asked. Ugh. I really needed to start learning the names of my blockmates.

“Yes!” I immediately replied kasi last week ko pa ’to gustong mangyari.

Everybody was talking. I looked at Milo. He was looking at his phone with his forehead slightly creased. Napa-tingin na naman siya sa akin. Honestly, bakit ba alam niya kapag naka-tingin ako sa kanya? It’s not like I was always looking at him—it was sakto lang na napapa-tingin siya kapag naka-tingin ako. Mamaya magfeeling na ’to na crush ko siya. Ew lang.

“Dinner daw,” I said using the tone na I was being polite lang, noh. I mean, after all, we’re still block mates naman. “With blockmates,” I immediately added. Knowing him and his hating ass, baka bigla niyang sabihin na inaaya ko siya magdinner na kami lang. As if! In his dreams!

“No, thanks,” he said.

“Whatever,” sabi ko na lang. At least I invited him. I’d feel bad kapag narinig niya naman na we were discussing dinner plans tapos ni hindi man lang siya na-invite.

After an hour, considered as free cut na kami since hindi dumating si Sir. I went to the bathroom first. Paglabas ko, I saw Milo talking to one of our classmates.

“Sama ka sa dinner?”

“San ba?” Milo asked. Why was he asking pa e sinabi niya na sa akin before na ’di siya sasama? This weirdo.

“Cristo’s.”

“Ah. Pass,” he said. See? Hindi naman talaga siya sasama!

“Okay. I think we’ll drink after dinner. Sunod ka na lang.”

“Yeah, yeah,” sabi ni Milo tapos ay naglakad siya.

Purely out of curiosity, sinundan ko si Milo. Akala ko ay uuwi na siya but he headed papunta don sa building kung nasaan iyong library. I followed him kasi baka may secret room pala doon, but sa library lang talaga siya pumunta.

“Nerd,” I said to myself tapos ay bumalik na ako sa classroom to get my things.

---

We went to have dinner. We were just discussing things. I felt so unfairly judged while I was listening to my classmates. They’re more nepo babies than me! Sure, my dad’s a judge and my mom’s a partner in a law firm but surely that couldn’t compare to my other blockmates na from political dynaties. Dapat talaga nandito ’yang si Milo para naririnig niya rin ’to.

True enough, after dinner, we decided to head straight to a club. I sent a message to the family groupchat saying na late ako uuwi. Sage sent a private message.

‘Iinom ka?’

‘Duh.’

‘Sunduin kita after.’

‘You’re streaming, di ba?’ I asked kasi nagnonotify sa phone ko when he’s streaming.

‘Yeah I’ll pause. Just message me later. Bye.’

Tsk. Kunwari suplado but super protective naman. Buti na lang talaga ’di ko siya kinain nung nasa uterus pa kami ni Mom. I couldn’t imagine my life without Sage. I mean, of course I love Ate Lily, but iba pa rin ang twin connection.

When we arrived at the club, we were ushered to the second floor. We already had reserved tables for us. Oh, god, I missed this.

“Wow, Saffie, didn’t know you can drink,” one of my classmates who was annoyingly touchy. Saffie? Were we close? That’s only for people close to me. He can be one of the mortals and call me Saffron.

I just gave him a smile even though I really wanted to elbow him away from me.

It seemed like my block was determined to get hammered judging from their choice of drinks. Personally, I didn’t want to get super drunk. If I get drunk tonight, for sure asleep lang ako the whole Saturday. And I didn’t want to waste my Saturday sleeping.

They were doing shots of tequila. No freaking way. I quietly made my escape. With my coke and jack, I made my way down to the dance floor. I was laser focused on joining the crowd in the middle na ’di ko napansin na may nabangga na pala ako.

“I’m so—”

I immediately stopped apologizing upon realization kung sino iyong nabangga ko. A frown immediately replaced the apologetic look on my face.

“Oh, it’s you,” I said with a frown.

“What? You also own this club, nepo baby ?”

I quickly felt my cheeks heating upon because I was pretty damn sure that he stressed the word baby because of the conversation we had before. The nerve! Fine, he’s attractive, but I am attractive, as well!

“Shut up, Milo,” I said. “Weird name, by the way.”

He snickered. “Coming from someone named after a spice?”

I glared at him. “It’s because my mom—” I paused. “Why am I even explaining to you?” sabi ko and I quickly walked away because I didn’t want him to ruin my Friday night!

After what felt like forever, I finally reached the dance floor. I took a generous sip of my drink as I began dancing. I was not drunk at all but the people around me sure were. Damn. I wish I took kahit two shots of tequila lang. I missed the feeling of being drunk.

I looked up para tignan iyong blockmates ko nang biglang magtama iyong mata namin ni Milo. He was standing by the railing. His left hand was on the railing while his other hand was holding a bottle of beer.

Was he watching me kanina pa?

Why did I suddenly feel conscious? It’s not like it’s my first time clubbing and dancing. Heck, dito na nga ako naka-tira before dahil kila Kyler.

I honestly thought he’d do the polite thing and avert his gaze.

I arched my brow at him.

He didn’t do nor say anything—he just remained looking at me.

I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to avert my gaze but that would mean that he won our staring competition!

Instead, I stood there and had a staring competition with Milo as the people around me were dancing and having the time of their lives.

‘Fuck you,’ I finally mouthed after a full minute of us just glaring at each other.

‘You wish,’ he mouthed back. 

**

This story is already on Chapter 05 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at 100php per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 03

What the hell was his problem with me?

On one hand, I wanted to confront him, but on the other hand, I knew that if I did confront him and ask him what his problem was with me, he’d definitely act like it was all in my head… and knowing what I know about him? He’d also probably call me crazy and probably gaslight me.

So, no.

Bahala siya d’yan.

As long as alam ko naman sa sarili ko na I did nothing wrong sa kanya, I should be fine.

Kasi wala naman talaga akong ginawa! He was already pissed at me the first time we met. Kung may nagawa man ako sa kanya before na ’di ko alam, might as well just tell me. Kasi if mali talaga ako sa kung anuman ’yon, I’d gladly apologize naman.

I thought to stay on the dance floor longer dahil mukhang tatambay si Milo with our blockmates, but then again, blockmates ko din naman sila. Why was I banished sa dance floor while they were bonding sa taas? Unfair naman non. Wala naman akong issue kay Milo. Siya dapat ma-banish dito sa baba.

I made my way back to the second floor. They were super drunk and rowdy, but honestly, deserved. The first two weeks—well, technically one week pa lang iyong class talaga namin—were super draining! To think na we’re supposed to endure this for at least four more years? We deserve to get drunk talaga, noh!

I was just laughing along kasi honestly hindi ko gets na kung ano iyong nakaka-tawa. But they were talking about something presumably funny na hindi ko lang marinig because the music’s too loud.

“Saffie.”

I almost jumped from where I was standing when someone whispered into my ear. I didn’t even need to look kung sino iyong nagsalita dahil isa lang naman ’yung feeling close sa akin sa block na ’to. I looked at him and gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What?” I asked.

“You want another drink?” he asked, leaning dangerously close once again.

“No, I’m good,” I replied as I scooted away from him.

I wasn’t too subtle about what I did, but he was blatantly ignoring the fact that I was avoiding him. I knew his type—spoiled brat who’s never been told no in his life. I’d tell him to fuck off, but honestly, I was just drained. Wala pa naman siyang ginagawa. Besides, if I make a scene now, for sure makakarating sa family ko. My family would definitely not let this slide. This would be a big issue and for sure maraming tao ang maiinvolve. So hassle. So, as much as possible, I’d handle this on my own.

This drunken asshole was still yapping beside me and I wasn’t even listening. I was just focusing on the music—which I honestly wished was louder dahil medyo naririnig ko pa rin iyong nagsasalita sa tabi ko. I already sent a message to Sage to pick me up. Gusto ko pa sanang magstay but it wasn’t enjoyable anymore because of this touchy asshole… and the other asshole who was standing on the other side of the room.

If Milo was half a decent person, he’d help me out. Obvious naman na ayoko sa katabi ko. We’d been seat mates for two weeks! Would it kill him to come to my rescue?

But no. Milo was too busy flirting with some girl—seriously, where did that girl come from? Was she even from our block? Tsk. That asshole was acting like he couldn’t see what was happening. Typical. He had energy to glare at me and whisper ‘nepo baby’ under his breath, but helping his seat mate? Apparently, that was beneath him.

“Come on, Saffie,” this drunk asshole slurred, his hand landing on my arm. Ugh. Kadiri. “Just one more drink. I promise it’ll be fun.”

I pulled my arm away, trying to keep my voice steady. “I said I’m good,” I told him. “My brother’s picking me up.”

I really didn’t like using the ‘brother’ card but some guys do not respect no. Hindi ko maintindihan why they’d only back off if may ibang lalaki na na involve. So fucking barbaric.

“Oh, so your brother’s not here yet,” he said, leaning closer, not knowing na if maabutan kami ni Sage na ganito, he’d so regret what he just said. His breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. “Come on, Saffie. I thought we’re here for block bonding.”

I glanced around, hoping someone—anyone from our block—would notice and intervene. Thea was too drunk to register what was happening. Julie was busy with her phone. And Milo… Milo was just looking right at us but then bigla na lang siyang nawala.

Gago talaga.

“Seriously, back off,” I said, my patience finally snapping. I didn’t care anymore if I caused a scene. “I’m not interested,” I continued because apparently, he subtlety doesn’t work on him.

“Playing hard to get?” He chuckled, moving even closer. “I like that.”

That’s when I felt a presence behind me.

A familiar cologne—one that I’d been used to for the past two weeks—mixed with the scent of beer.

“She said no.”

I turned to find Milo standing there, his expression unreadable but his voice carrying an edge I’d never heard before. He didn’t sound mad… but then again, hindi ko siya maintindihan. He’s a very confusing person! Didn’t he just walk away earlier? Saan siya nanggaling bigla?

“Mind your own business,” the drunken idiot said.

I hated how curious I was about what’s gonna happen next—I was more invested on what Milo will do next than my own safety.

“Isn’t that Prim?” biglang sabi ni Milo. Who the fuck is Prim? Napa-tingin doon iyong katabi ko. Titingin din dapat ako sa kung saan may tinuro si Milo pero bago pa man ako maka-tingin doon, I felt him holding my wrist and dragging me away with him.

Everything happened so quickly.

One second I was standing there watching the drunken asshole crane his neck to look for whoever ‘Prim’ was, and the next I was being pulled through the crowded second floor by someone I’d barely exchanged civil words with in two weeks.

“Wait, what—” I started, but Milo’s grip on my wrist was firm, and he was already navigating us through the mass of drunk law students like he had some kind of mental map of the place.

“Shutting up won’t actually kill you,” he said without looking back, his voice barely audible over the pounding music.

I wanted to ask who the hell Prim was, or if there even was a Prim, but I was too busy trying not to trip over my own feet as he led us toward what looked like a side exit I hadn’t even noticed before. The strobing lights made everything disorienting, and his pace was relentless.

“Can you please slow down,” I called out, but he either didn’t hear me or chose to ignore me.

We pushed through a group of girls doing shots, past the DJ booth, and finally toward a door marked ’ Emergency Exit Only .’ Without hesitation, Milo pushed it open—apparently not caring about whatever alarm might go off—and suddenly we were outside in the cool night air.

I yanked my wrist free the moment we stepped onto the fire escape landing, my heart pounding from the sudden escape.

“What the hell was that about?” I demanded, rubbing my wrist where his fingers had been. “Also, who the fuck’s Prim?”

Milo leaned against the fire escape railing, running a hand through his hair.

“There is no Prim,” he said flatly, like I was an idiot for even asking.

I stared at him. “So you just made that up?”

“Obviously.” He pulled out his phone, scrolling through something. “May susundo ba sa ’yo?”

I nodded although I was a bit confused. “Yeah, my brother,” sagot ko sa kanya.

“Good,” he replied, pocketing his phone.

And then he began walking away—what a freaking weirdo!

Akala ko talaga ay iiwan na niya ako, but for some reason, pumunta lang siya doon sa other side. He was just standing there, fiddling with his phone and ignoring my existence. Ganoon ba talaga siya ka-allergic sa akin that he’d rather stand there and use his phone than to engage in a conversation with me, an actual human being?

I stared at him—I wasn’t even subtle about it, too. I was past the point of caring. Wala akong pakielam if ma-conscious siya with the way I was staring at him. If he didn’t care that I find him rude, why the hell would I care kung ano ang iniisip niya about me?

“You’re seriously just gonna ignore me?” I asked.

He still didn’t even bother to look at me. “Do you really think silence will kill you?” he asked back.

“It might,” I said dramatically. “I’m not used to people not wanting to talk to me.”

“What a tragedy for you,” he sarcastically replied.

“I know, right? Usually people find me charming and delightful.”

“Usually people lie to make you feel better,” he replied, finally glancing up from his phone with that deadpan expression.

“Wow, harsh. And here I thought you were being nice by rescuing me.”

“I wasn’t being nice. I was being practical.”

Napa-kunot ang noo ko. “Practical how?”

“Preventing you from causing a scene and embarrassing our entire block.”

I gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me? Me? Embarrassing?”

Instead of answering me with words, tumingin lang siya sa akin. Oh, how badly I wanted to wipe that scoff off of his freaking annoying face!

“What’s that look supposed to mean?” I demanded.

He just shrugged, going back to his phone like I wasn’t worth the energy to respond to verbally.

“Oh, so now you’re back to ignoring me? Real mature.”

“You wanted to know why I helped you,” he said without looking up. “I told you.”

“You told me you were being practical. That’s not really an answer.”

“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”

“Why? Because admitting you might actually have a decent bone in your body would ruin your whole mysterious asshole vibe?”

That got him to look up. “Mysterious asshole vibe?”

“Yeah, you know—brooding, antisocial, too cool for conversation. Very ’ I’m smarter than everyone else ’ energy.”

“Because I am smarter than everyone else.”

I laughed.

That earned me a crease on his forehead.

Aha.

So, iyan ang sore spot niya?

“What?” he asked.

I gave him a very sweet smile. “Nothing,” I said. “It’s cute how you actually believe that,” I continued and then smiled at him some more. “Oh, look, my brother’s finally here,” I added and then walked away because for some reason, this felt like victory. 

**

This story is already at Chapter 06 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at 100php per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 04

I told myself na kahit gaano pa ako ka-busy sa school, family time is family time. Kaya nung Sunday, I still attended our usual gathering kahit dala-dala ko ’yung codals and reviewers ko… which was probably not a good thing! Kasi when Tita Katherine and Tita Rory saw my codals, bigla silang nagreminisce sa law school days nila. Then they asked me about my classes and gave me tips—which honestly I appreciated very much but then again, I also love talking and yapping! So instead na makapagreview ako, I ended up just gossiping with my titas… which was super fun but then again, I wasn’t able to study as planned!

Instead, I made a compromise with myself. I went to school super early—like literally I was there when the gates opened.

“Good morning,” I greeted the library staff. Feel ko malapit na kaming maging first name basis kasi always akong nandito.

I headed to my usual seat. Inayos ko agad iyong mga gamit ko. Nilabas ko ’yung Criminal Law I book and reviewer ko, my notebook, pens, and highlighters. For maximum concentration, I put on my headphones. I was just listening to static noise.

It was probably the guilt na hindi ako nakapagstudy the whole weekend (I was basically just passed out the entire Saturday) kaya super focused ako ngayon. Baka kasi matawag ako sa recit mamaya. Mahirap na—after kong tawanan si Milo nung sinabi niya na mas matalino siya sa akin? I can never slack off in front of my number one hater, noh!

When lunch time came, I still went outside to eat my lunch. I didn’t watch Sage’s livestream because I felt like I didn’t deserve that today kasi ’di ako nag-aral nung weekend. Instead, I just did a few laps around the campus para na rin mawala iyong antok ko.

“Weird…” I uttered to myself. Not that I was looking for Milo kasi asa naman! But hindi ko nakita ni anino niya. Hindi siya sa school nag-aaral? I mean, once ko lang naman siya nakita sa library… Baka sa labas siya nag-aaral? Or baka sa condo niya or kung san man siya naka-stay tapos pupunta lang siya sa school kapag class na namin?

Tsk.

Why was I curious?

Nang matapos iyong one hour self-imposed lunch break ko, I headed back to the library. I was already finished with my first read. Nagmememorize na ako ng details para in case na matawag ako later, makaka-sagot ako. I noticed kasi na mahilig magtanong si Sir ng details ng cases, so I figured there’s no harm kung memorized ko sila. Besides, mom always told me to take my daily reviews seriously para ’di ako mahirapan sa exam week. Sabi naman ni Dad, there’s no shame in cramming basta naiintindihan mo at pumapasa ka. Tsk. Bad influence.

At exactly 5:30PM, naka-rating na ako sa classroom namin. I headed agad sa pwesto ko. Buti na lang wala pa ’yung number one hater ko. I had some few minutes of peace.

Most of my classmates were discussing the cases. I was silently listening to their discussion, just to confirm kung tama ba ’yung mga binasa ko kanina. I was so intent on listening na ’di ko napansin na may masamang energy na pala ulit sa tabi ko.

“What?” he asked nang napa-tingin ako sa kanya—as if naman I was staring! Literally napa-tingin lang ako bigla.

“Tss.” I rolled my eyes at him. Bakit ba ang init ng ulo niya sa akin palagi? Pasalamat siya busy ako sa dami ng ginagawa ko at wala akong time magpaka-private investigator para malaman kung bakit parang may bad blood siya sa akin.

I tried to ignore my seatmate but kasalanan ko ba na may peripheral vision ako?! He seemed so focused on reading his codal—his brows furrowed and his lips slightly parted. Ugh! Bakit ba napapansin ko ’yung mga ganitong bagay?!

Baka mapa-tingin na naman siya sa gawi ko at sabihan na naman ako ng ‘what’ kaya nilabas ko na lang iyong notebook ko. I reviewed again my notes while waiting for the class to start.

‘Oh, god,’ I uttered to myself nung biglang dumating si Sir. Obvious na obvious sa deamenor niya na hindi siya masaya today! Bigla akong nakaramdam ng panlalamig nung nilabas niya ’yung classcards namin. He shuffled them like he was determined to ruin some lives today.

Ano ba ’tong pinasok ko?!

I felt like vomiting while he was shuffling the cards. Nag-aral naman ako, but sobrang kabang-kaba pa rin ako. Imagine if hindi ako nag-aral? Baka umiyak na lang talaga ako!

“Delgado.”

Despite the space between Mr. Hater and me, I felt him freeze for a second. Biglang nanlaki iyong mga mata ko. Imagination ko lang ba ’yon or did I really hear him utter fuck? I looked around, wala namang nakarinig na iba or probably dahil busy din sila magworry for their own lives?!

Milo stood up.

“Quinto v. Andres.”

I watched as Milo’s adam’s apple bobbed up then down.

Oh… so Mr. Smarty Pants’ not that prepared. Interesting.

The entire class were busy reading their notes about sa Quinto v Andres like they’re certain na na hindi makaka-sagot si Milo. I, on the other hand, knew na sasagot si Milo. Ang taas kaya ng ego ng tao na ’to. Surely siya iyong tipo ng tao na magrerecite ng ibang case para lang may masagot… which I respect. I’ll totally do the same.

But then again I know all the assigned cases.

I saw how Milo took a deep breath like he was steadying himself. “In Quinto v Andres, eleven-year-old Wilson Quinto died while fishing inside a drainage culvert with respondents Andres and Pacheco. On 1995, the two respondents invited Wilson and his playmate Edison Garcia to go fishing in the drainage system. Garcia opted to stay outside because it was dark, but Wilson went inside with the respondents. After some time, Pacheco came out first and left without saying anything, then Andres emerged carrying Wilson’s lifeless body. The child was found dead with a hematoma on his head, and the autopsy revealed the cause of death was drowning with traumatic head injuries as contributory. His mother filed both criminal charges for homicide and a civil case for damages against the respondents. However, both the trial court and appellate courts ruled in favor of the defendants, granting their demurrer to evidence due to insufficient proof to establish their liability for the child’s death. The Supreme Court ultimately denied the petition, affirming that the prosecution failed to prove by preponderance of evidence that the respondents caused Wilson’s death.”

Ugh.

Show-off.

“What was the proximate cause of Wilson Quinto’s death in this case?” Sir asked.

Milo paused a little. I saw another sharp intake of breath. “The proximate cause was the respondents hitting the victim with a blunt object, which caused the hematoma on his head, rendering him unconscious and leading to his drowning.”

“Is that correct? Did the Court establish that as the proximate cause?” Sir asked.

Napa-tingin ako sa kamay ni Milo. I saw how he clenched his fist tightly, dug his fingernails against his palm.

“Based on the medical examiner’s findings, the hematoma was caused by blunt force trauma, so the respondents’ actions were the proximate cause of death.”

I saw how Milo’s jaw clenched when he saw Sir wrote on his class card.

“Borromeo.”

Seriously?! Bakit magka-sunod na naman kami?!

I drew a deep breath, too, as I stood up.

“Same question,” Sir said.

Medyo napa-tigil ako. Ano nga ’yung tanong? Bakit ba kasi na-busy ako bigla sa pagmicroanalyze sa mga movements ng seatmate ko?!

Nagloading ako for a while, but I quickly remembered the last question.

“The Court found that the prosecution failed to establish what the proximate cause of Wilson Quinto’s death was. The medical examiner, Dr. Aguda, was equivocal in his testimony and presented two possibilities for how the victim sustained the hematoma,” I began.

As I was answering, I began to remember lahat nung sinulat ko na notes kanina. I’m more of a visual learner—kaya kahit gaano ka-time consuming and ka-hassle, I write notes and mind-maps. Mas madali ko kasing maintindihan and matandaan.

“Dr. Aguda testified that the hematoma could have been caused in two ways: first, that the deceased could have been hit by a blunt object or instrument applied with full force; or second, that the deceased could have slipped and fell hard, with his head hitting a hard object. When the Court asked if it was possible that the victim slipped on the concrete pavement and hit his head, Dr. Aguda replied: ‘It is also possible’,” I continued. “The Court gave credence to Dr. Aguda’s testimony that the deceased might have slipped, causing him to fall hard and hit his head on the pavement. The Court noted that there were stones inside the culvert, and since there was water, the portion would be very slippery. As the Court stated: ’If the victim hit his head and lost consciousness, he will naturally take in some amount of water and drown.”

As I continued on with my recitation, my heart calmed down. This is why I love reviewing hard kahit sinasabi ni Sage palagi na haggard ako (a total lie, by the way!) That feeling? Na nasasagot mo ’yung tanong ng prof? That satisfaction? Priceless.

I’d sacrifice sleep over and over again.

“How does this relate to the burden of proof?”

Medyo napa-kunot ang noo ko dahil ’di naman ’yan ang topic for the case. Buti na lang binasa ko ’yung full-text.

“The Court emphasized that the petitioner failed to adduce preponderance of evidence to prove that either or both respondents actually hit the deceased with a blunt object. In fact, no blunt instrument was ever presented as evidence. The Court also noted the absence of any ill-motive to kill the deceased, and that Andres even brought out the boy’s body and informed the mother of her son’s death,” I answered.

“This case demonstrates that proximate cause cannot be established through speculation or possibilities. What must be proven?”

“As the Court established in this case, proximate cause is ‘that cause which in natural and continuous sequence, unbroken by an efficient intervening cause, produces the injury, and without which the result would not have occurred.’ The prosecution must prove by evidence, not speculation, that the accused’s specific acts were the proximate cause of the victim’s death. And the prosecution failed to prove that their actions were the proximate cause.”

I thought may follow-up question pa si Sir but it seemed like satisfied naman siya sa sagot ko? Kasi when he called another name, iba na iyong tanong niya. Ibig sabihin okay naman iyong sagot ko… I think?

---

When the class ended, I was so tired na feeling ko nag mountain climbing ako. I was seriously looking forward na maka-uwi na and mahiga sa kama ko.

“Saffron,” pagtawag sa akin.

“Yup?” I replied as I was fixing my things. Bigla kong napansin na wala na pala ’yung katabi ko. San na napunta bigla ’yon?

“Kasali ka sa digest pool, right?”

“Yup.”

“Pwede patingin nung copy mo? ’Di ko dala ’yung sa ’kin.”

I looked at her with my forehead slightly creased. “Uh… super gulo nung sa ’kin. I have lots of notes and highlights. Basta super gulo,” I told her.

She was looking at me like she was slightly annoyed. What? Did she see my notes? Kasi to be honest, kasali naman talaga ako sa digest pool but ’di ko ginagamit ’yung digests don. Super incomplete tapos mali-mali pa ’yung jurisprudence na nilalagay nila. Hindi naman ’yon ’yung topic dapat na dini-discuss.

“Oh, my driver’s here na. Bye,” sabi ko na lang tapos I quickly excused myself kasi ’di naman ako stupid. I knew na gusto niya humingi ng copy ng digest ko. Unfair naman sa ’kin nun. Super time consuming kaya gumawa ng personalized digests.

I was taking my time walking dahil ’di pa nagrereply si Kuya Eddie if saan siya naka-park.

“Si Milo ba ’yon?” I asked myself when I thought I saw a familiar back walking papunta sa likod nung old nursing building.

Against my will, naglakad ako papunta doon—in my defense, I had time to kill! Hindi pa nagrereply si Kuya Eddie kung naka-park na siya!

I stopped on my tracks when I saw Milo get a cigarette from his pocket and sinindihan niya ’yon. So… he smokes? That’s… interesting.

I knew that I shouldn’t watch him given the amount of times na sinabihan niya na ako ng ‘what’ but for some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Naka-sandal lang siya sa may pader. Naka-tingin lang siya sa kawalan at tahimik na naninigarilyo.

What’s on his mind?

Dahil ba ’to sa recit niya kanina? I mean… it’s okay. It’s not like failed ’yung recit niya. He was able to—

Ugh.

Who was I kidding?

If I were on his shoes, I’d be frustrated as well.

“Hey,” I said with probably the most forced smile ever. Kasi naman, napa-tingin na naman siya sa gawi ko! Bakit ba super talas ng peripheral vision niya?!

I didn’t know what my feet were thinking, walking towards him!

I stopped a few feet away from him. His back was still against the wall, the stick of cigarette still in between his fingers.

“Uh… is it allowed to smoke in campus?” I asked because ’di ko alam kung ano ang sasabihin!

For some reason, he put the cigarette in between his teeth and blew a smoke. “What? Susumbong mo ako sa Tito mo?”

I felt my jaw tense. “I was just asking.”

I knew I shouldn’t ask but… “Seriously, what’s your problem with me? Ano ba ginawa ko sa ’yo?”

He took another drag, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. “Nothing. That’s the point.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t have to do anything, princess.”

What’s his fucking problem?!

“You know what? Fine. Yes, my parents are successful. Yes, I have advantages. But that doesn’t mean I don’t work hard.”

“Work hard?” He scoffed.

The hell… why was he being such a fucking jerk?

“Maybe I’m just naturally good at this,” I replied.

“Sure, whatever makes you sleep better at night.”

This sore loser.

“You really have me figured out, don’t you?” I said sarcastically. “Rich girl who doesn’t understand hard work. Is that your whole theory about me?”

He flicked ash onto the ground. “Am I wrong?”

“That’s what I thought,” he said when I stayed silent.

“You’re such an ass,” I said, my voice shaking with anger.

Milo was just looking at me.

I drew a deep breath.

“You know what, Milo? You’re right. I am privileged. I do have advantages. But you know what else? I’m still here. I’m still competing with you. And I’m still winning.”

“Because the game is rigged in your favor.”

“Or because I’m better at it than you are,” I said as I stared into his eyes and wished that he knew I meant every word. 

**

This story is already at Chapter 09 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at 100php per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 05

‘Because the game is rigged in your favor.’

Oh my god, ang kapal ng mukha! As if naman alam ko na ’yung questions ng prof beforehand. E ’di sana hindi na ako nagpapaka-hirap mag-aral kung ganon. E ’di sana hindi na ako parang masusuka every time the class cards were being shuffled.

He doesn’t even know my parents! Did he honestly think na if I ask my parents for handouts, that they’d just willingly give them to me? I mean, sure, they’d help me, but they didn’t raise us to be spoiled brats. Whatever we have, we did work for them naman.

Kainis talaga ’yung mga tao na alam lang naman pangalan mo, feeling na nila kilala nila buong pagkatao mo.

Pag-uwi ko sa bahay, I lied to my parents. I told them that I had dinner with my blockmates kaya hindi na ako kakain. I just didn’t have the appetite. Pagdating ko sa room ko, gusto ko na talaga matulog. I was so tired—both my body and mind were tired but for reasons very known to me, nag-e-echo talaga ’yung sinabi nung Milo na ’yon.

I was already in bed, ready to fall asleep pero nakaka-inis na nagrereplay iyong conversation namin kanina. After a while, I gave up and pumunta na ako sa may study table ko. Nilabas ko ulit iyong mga gamit ko. I began studying for my subjects tomorrow kahit alam ko na dapat natutulog na aka ngayon.

Honestly? I just wanted to do well for myself and for my parents… I guess additional motivation ko na rin ngayon na mas magaling ako sa chocolate drink na ’yun!

I opened my planner and nag-start ako mag-block ng every free moment ko for the next two weeks. 7AM library session, check. Lunch break study time, check. Post-dinner case reading, check. I even nag-schedule ng bathroom breaks kasi apparently, ganito na ako ka-type-A ngayon.

Ang pumasok sa akin ay yung insufferable face ni Milo at yung conviction niya na hindi ako deserve na nandito. Na lahat ng meron ako, binigay lang sa akin sa silver platter. Na spoiled princess lang ako na naglalaro ng lawyer.

We’ll see about that.

I spent the next three hours asking around tungkol sa teaching style ng mga professors ko and favorite cases na possible matanong during recitations. I was also given samplex—I was still on the fence kung gagamitin ko but later ko na lang iisipin ’yon.

But if I will destroy Maximiliano Jose Delgado academically, I was going to be thorough about it.

---

My alarm went off at 5:30 AM.

I didn’t even have to drag myself out of bed. I took my shower, had my breakfast, grabbed my to-go coffee, and then I was off to school once again.

Nakarating ako sa library before it even opened, naghihintay sa labas like some kind of academic overachiever until pinapasok ako ng staff at exactly 7AM. I claimed the my seat aka best table sa buong lugar—prime real estate with good lighting, multiple power outlets, at perfect sight lines sa entrance.

I spread out my materials like nag-set up ako ng command headquarters. My annotated Consti Book, my syllabus (because no way in hell that I’d be caught slacking na hindi alam kung ano iyong topic for the day), color-coded highlighters, and my notebook for my notetaking.

I was super focused the whole morning. I read every single case sa assigned readings, took notes on the key points, and even researched additional cases that might be related. By the time 11:30 rolled around, I had covered everything for Constitutional Law and even started on tomorrow’s StatCon readings.

For lunch, I just grabbed a quick sandwich sa cafeteria and ate it while reviewing my notes. I didn’t even check Sage’s livestream like I usually do. I was in full academic mode, and nothing was going to distract me from my goal.

After lunch, I went back to the library to continue studying.

Around 2:30 PM, I packed up my things and headed to the classroom. The room was on the second floor, and as I was walking through the hallway, I happened to glance out the window towards the main gates.

That’s when I saw him—yung epal ng buhay ko.

I knew I should just ignore him because he brought nothing but stress and bad vibes sa buhay ko. Still, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

Milo was walking from the gates towards the building, and even from that distance, I could see that he looked… tired. Really tired. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and there was something about the way he was walking that made him look exhausted. Even his usual confident stride seemed off.

I found myself staring longer than I should have, feeling a weird mix of curiosity and concern. What was he doing coming to school so late? Saan ba siya nag-aaral kasi bakit ’di ko siya nakikita sa library? And why did he look so tired?

Then I caught myself. Why was I even thinking about him? He’s been nothing but rude and hostile to me since day one. He made all those assumptions about my character, called me a nepo baby, and basically told me I didn’t deserve to be here. Why should I care if he looks tired?

Tsk.

As if hindi rin ako pagod!

Plus, he’s an adult. He can very well handle himself. Hindi ko na problema kung anong ginagawa niya.

I shook my head and continued walking to the classroom, determined to focus on what was actually important—proving that I belonged here through my academic performance.

---

Our professor walked in with his usual calm but commanding presence. Today’s topic was about constitutional interpretation and judicial review, and I knew we’d be discussing some landmark cases. I mean, I did ask my ate who also went to law school. She told me that I definitely definitely should read and memorize the cases because for sure I’ll be asked to recite that—if not, for sure lalabas sa exams.

Nilabas ni Sir ’yung classcards.

Fuck.

Mawawala ba ’tong kaba na nararamdaman ko? Almost a month in law school but nanlalamig pa rin ’yung buong pagkatao ko whenever I’d see those damned classcards!

“I trust that you read the assigned cases,” Sir said as he began to shuffle the classcards. I felt my heart on my throat. “Delgado, the case of Manila Prince Hotel v GSIS.”

I saw how Milo’s jaw clenched.

I hated that I was very much familiar with his demeanor. I guess today wasn’t his day, huh? Usually naman kasi kapag natatawag siya sa recit, kahit walang salita na lumabas sa bibig niya, alam mo ’yon? Ramdam mo ’yung arrogance niya. Super arrogant talaga!

But now? He still looked tired, but he stood up with his usual confidence—but I knew better. He’s a big, big faker.

“Manila Prince Hotel v. GSIS,” Milo began. I wasn’t a fan of the fact that I knew him more than I’d like—na alam ko na sinabi niya ’yung title of the case to give him some time to rack his brain to remember kung ano iyong nangyari sa case na ’yon.

He’s so not prepared.

Tsk.

Why would he even do that? Didn’t he know na mortal enemies na kami ngayon? Why would he give me the chance to destroy him?

“This case involved a dispute over a property transaction between Manila Prince Hotel and the Government Service Insurance System. The main issue was whether the GSIS’s actions constituted a violation of due process rights.” He paused, still desperately trying to organize his thoughts. “The Supreme Court ruled that procedural due process requires notice and hearing before a person can be deprived of life, liberty, or property. In this case, the Court found that the GSIS failed to provide adequate notice and opportunity to be heard, thus violating the petitioner’s constitutional rights.”

I saw him look at our professor. What? Was he hoping for some miracle na okay na ’yung sagot niya? For someone na super arrogant at hobby na tawagin akong nepo baby, ang pangit ng sagot niya.

“The Court emphasized that due process is not merely a procedural requirement but a fundamental constitutional guarantee. The essence of due process is the right to be heard, and any proceeding that deprives a person of property without proper notice and hearing violates this constitutional mandate.”

It was a decent answer.

I’d give him a 75—if I’m being generous.

I raised my hand.

Our professor looked slightly surprised. I mean, no one really volunteers—I just felt like I owe it to Milo to complete his very lacking answer.

“Borromeo, Sir,” I said kasi baka ’di niya alam kung ano ang name ko. ’Di naman ako nepo baby na kilala ng lahat ng tao.

I was gonna wait while Sir looked for my classcard, but he gave me the signal that I could begin with my recitation.

My hands felt cold—I’d probably always feel cold whenever I’ll be cold to recite. But tonight, my urge to school Milo was just stronger.

“While Mr. Delgado’s analysis covers the basic holding, I believe there are some significant aspects of the decision that needed to be discussed.”

I could feel the attention of the entire class on me. I knew that I sounded so arrogant, but honestly? Fuck Milo.

“The Manila Prince case is particularly significant because it refined the Court’s approach to procedural due process in administrative proceedings,” I continued. “The Court didn’t just apply a mechanical test of notice and hearing—it examined the adequacy and reasonableness of the procedures used. More importantly, the Court clarified that procedural due process in administrative contexts requires flexible procedures that are appropriate to the nature of the case. The Court stated that ‘the essence of due process is to be heard, and, as applied to administrative proceedings, this means a fair and reasonable opportunity to explain one’s side.’”

I was warming to my topic now. “The case also established important precedent regarding the burden of proof in due process challenges. The Court held that when procedural due process is at issue, the burden shifts to the government to prove that adequate procedures were followed, not on the petitioner to prove they were denied due process.”

“Furthermore,” I added, “the Court’s analysis of the relationship between procedural and substantive due process in this case influenced later decisions on administrative law and constitutional interpretation. The Court recognized that procedural violations can sometimes be so egregious that they violate substantive due process as well.”

I ended my recitation. I remained standing dahil akala mo may follow-up questions pa si Sir sa akin but he just gave me a nod and then proceeded to call the next unlucky soul.

I turned my head slightly to look at Milo before I took my seat. His expression was carefully controlled, but I could see the frustration in his eyes. I gave him a small grin—not malicious, but definitely satisfied.

‘You’re welcome,’ I mouthed with a sweet smile. He should thank me dahil kinumpleto ko ’yung kulang-kulang niya na sagot. 

**

This story is already at Chapter 10 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at 100php per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 06

I couldn’t sleep.

I kept tossing and turning sa bed ko, expecting na I’d be tired from all the studying and yung academic destruction na ginawa ko kay Milo kanina. But instead, I was wide awake, staring at the ceiling at 11PM.

I thought for sure na after my brilliant recitation, Milo would approach me after class. Maybe to argue, maybe to defend himself, or at the very least—acknowledge na I just made his answer look like amateur hour in front of everyone.

Or to call me nepo baby?

But wala. Nothing. Nada.

The moment sir dismissed us, Milo packed up his things faster than usual and disappeared. I even lingered sa hallway, pretending to check my phone, hoping he’d say something. Anything.

I was so ready for round two.

I even went to that area near the building where I saw him smoking before, thinking maybe he’d be there sulking about his mediocre recitation. But the place was empty.

What the hell? Did he just… give up? Was that it? One academic beatdown and he’s out?

Ang boring naman niya.

Now here I was, lying in bed, unable to shake off yung feeling na there was something unfinished between us. Like we were in the middle of a chess game and he just left the board.

I grabbed my phone and, before I could stop myself, I opened Instagram and searched for his name.

Maximiliano Jose Delgado.

Nothing.

I tried different variations. Milo Delgado. Max Delgado. M. Delgado.

Still nothing.

What the hell? How was that even possible? Everyone our age had social media. Even yung mga trying-hard mysterious people had at least some online presence.

With me, a simple search would bring up tons of results. Articles about Dad’s court decisions that for some reason mentioned our family, some lifestyle features about Mom’s law firm, and of course, a bunch of posts from Sage’s fans who somehow found my Instagram and followed me religiously.

Sage asked me before if I was uncomfortable about that kasi he could tell his followers to leave me alone. But honestly, I didn’t mind. I actually liked posting my OOTDs and getting thousands of likes from people who appreciated good fashion sense. Like sino ba ang ayaw masabihan always ng ‘Ang ganda mo naman, Saffron!’

But Milo? It was like he didn’t exist online.

If only he didn’t fucking annoy me every single day, I’d think that he’s just a figment of my imagination.

Who the hell was Maximiliano Jose Delgado?

I tried Facebook, Twitter, even LinkedIn. Nothing. Not even a basic profile. It was like he was a ghost or something.

The more I searched, the more frustrated I became. How could someone just have zero digital footprint in this year? Unless he was deliberately hiding something.

Maybe he was embarrassed about his background? Maybe that’s why he was so defensive about the privilege thing—because he didn’t want people to know about his family situation?

But that still didn’t explain the complete absence of any online presence. Even people with simple lives had at least some social media activity.

But nah.

I wasn’t blind, noh. His Ralph Lauren and Tom Ford shirts? He’s far from struggling.

I finally gave up searching around 1AM and tried to sleep. But my mind kept going back to that frustrated look on his face after my recitation. The way his jaw clenched when I mouthed ’you’re welcome ’ to him.

I wanted to see that look again.

---

The next day, I woke up feeling oddly energized despite the late night. I had another war to prepare for, and this time, I was going to make sure Milo couldn’t just disappear after class.

I went through my usual routine—library at 7AM, extensive note-taking, color-coded highlighting. I noticed Milo wasn’t at his usual spot again, which was starting to become a pattern. Saan ba siya nag-aaral?

When I got to our Statutory Construction class that afternoon, I was ready for battle. I’d memorized every assigned case, cross-referenced them with related jurisprudence, and even prepared counterarguments for different interpretations.

Sir walked in carrying the dreaded class cards, and I felt that familiar anxiety mixed with excitement. This was my chance to show everyone—especially Milo—that yesterday wasn’t a fluke.

That I, Saffron Rose Borromeo, is in fact, smart.

“Good afternoon,” Sir stated, shuffling the cards. Usually, I have this commentary in my mind that what’s so good about this afternoon? Masusuka na ako sa kaba! But I did study… so I felt like I was somehow confident that—

“Borromeo.”

Fuck!

Totoo talaga ang jinx!

I drew a deep breath as I stood up. It’s fine, Saffie. You studied. You can do this.

“Romualdez-Marcos v. COMELEC.”

I launched into my analysis, discussing how the Supreme Court applied the principle of ejusdem generis in interpreting the constitutional provision about public offices. I covered the doctrine thoroughly, explaining how specific terms in a statute limit the scope of general terms that follow.

I saw how my classmates were panicking because of how I was discussing the case. I mean, fine, whatever, siguro nga may konting edge ako because I grew up with lawyers around me. Like my parents, my titos and titas, most of them are lawyers—if not doctors. So, sure, I was already very familiar with all the legal terms that I can just discuss them probably easier than my classmates.

But then again, I still do my part.

I still study my ass off.

I was about to sit down when I saw a hand raise.

Milo’s hand.

Napa-tingin ako sa kanya. He wasn’t looking at me—he was only looking at Sir like was determined to be called for recitation.

What… the fuck?

Sir looked surprised but nodded. “Delgado?” he said. Tsk. Bakit alam na ni Sir last name niya?

“I’d like to add something to Ms. Borromeo’s recitation, if I may,” Milo said, standing up.

This jerk! Manggaya!

I sat down again. Ano idadagdag niya sa recit ko? I discussed it thoroughly already. Unlike him na ’di ko alam kung nag-aaral ba o kung saan man nag-aaral, I spend my whole day studying, noh.

“While Ms. Borromeo correctly discussed ejusdem generis, there’s a more fundamental issue in the Romualdez-Marcos case that needs to be addressed,” he began, his voice carrying that annoying confident tone I’d learned to recognize.

“The case isn’t just about statutory construction techniques—it’s about constitutional interpretation and the limits of judicial power. The Court in this case had to determine whether they could essentially write into the Constitution a requirement that wasn’t explicitly stated.”

I felt my jaw tighten. He was challenging my analysis. In front of everyone.

“The Court applied the principle of constitutional supremacy,” he continued, “ruling that constitutional provisions should be interpreted to give effect to their intended purpose, not just their literal text. This goes beyond simple ejusdem generis and touches on the broader doctrine of constitutional construction.”

He paused, looking briefly at me before continuing. “So while the statutory construction principles are relevant, they’re actually secondary to the constitutional interpretation issues that the Court was primarily addressing.”

The nerve!

Hindi naman ’yon ’yung topic for this class! This was Statcon! Bakit naman ako magdidiscuss ng Consti principles?!

Sir looked between us with interest—I mean, who wouldn’t be interested at this point? Kulang na lang ata magbet ang block namin between the two of us.

“Borromeo, would you like to respond?”

Would I? Absolutely .

I stood back up. “While Mr. Delgado raises an interesting point about constitutional interpretation, I think he’s actually missing the Court’s primary reasoning.”

I turned slightly to look at him as I spoke. “The Court specifically relied on ejusdem generis precisely because they wanted to avoid the broader constitutional interpretation issues. They used the statutory construction approach as a way to resolve the case without making a broader constitutional ruling.”

“In fact,” I continued, warming to my argument, “the Court’s decision shows how statutory construction principles can be used strategically to avoid more controversial constitutional questions. The ejusdem generis analysis allowed them to reach their decision on narrower grounds.”

“So Mr. Delgado’s point about constitutional supremacy, while academically interesting, actually misses what the Court was trying to do—which was to decide the case using the least controversial legal reasoning possible,” I said as I gave Milo a smile.

I sat down, satisfied that I’d effectively countered his challenge.

But he wasn’t done.

“Actually,” Milo said, still standing, “that interpretation contradicts the Court’s own language in the decision. The Court explicitly stated that they were interpreting the Constitution, not just applying statutory construction rules to a statute.”

“They used ejusdem generis as a tool of constitutional interpretation, not as an alternative to it. Ms. Borromeo’s reading would suggest the Court was being disingenuous about their own reasoning, which seems unlikely.”

“That’s enough,” Sir said dahil sasagot pa talaga ako. Ang kapal ng mukha ng Milo na ’to!

Both Milo and I sat down, but I could feel the energy in the room. Our classmates were looking back and forth between us like they were watching a tennis match.

This wasn’t over—this was far from over.

---

After class, I got out of the room just to breathe some air to prepare for our next class when I heard Milo’s very annoying voice.

“You’re welcome,” he said. Ugh! Why was he so annoying!

I turned around to face him. “In your dreams,” I replied. “Your answer’s not even responsive to the topic.”

“Nope,” he said like he didn’t accept what I just said—like he was right and that was the gospel truth.

“I explained exactly what the Court did and why they did it—also, that’s the topic for today’s class.”

“You explained what was in the syllabus,” he said with that condescending tone. “But you missed the actual legal significance.”

“The actual legal significance? Are you kidding me? I covered the primary holding and the reasoning—”

“You covered what you were supposed to cover for class. May difference between following the reading assignment and actually understanding the law.”

My jaw just dropped.

Ang kapal ng mukha!

“Understanding the law? Excuse me, I understand perfectly—”

“You understand what’s written sa highlighted notes mo. But you don’t see beyond the textbook analysis.”

“Beyond the textbook?” I could feel my voice getting sharper. “I gave a comprehensive analysis of ejusdem generis and its application—”

“You gave a textbook recitation of ejusdem generis. You stuck to the syllabus like it was gospel instead of thinking about what the case actually means for constitutional interpretation.”

“I addressed constitutional interpretation!”

“You mentioned it in passing. But you didn’t actually engage with the deeper issues because they weren’t specifically assigned for today,” he said as he cocked his head to the side. “You know I am right.”

Oh my god, this guy!

“Just because I actually prepared for class doesn’t mean I can’t think beyond the syllabus—”

“Can you though? Because everything you’ve said so far has been very… safe. Very by-the-book. Very what-the-professor-wants-to-hear.”

Wow.

WOW.

“And what’s wrong with being prepared?”

“Nothing’s wrong with being prepared. But may difference between being prepared and being a walking legal encyclopedia who can’t see the forest for the trees.”

“A walking legal encyclopedia? At least I’m not someone who shows up unprepared and tries to wing it with random constitutional theory!”

“Random constitutional theory?” He actually scoffed. “You think constitutional supremacy is random theory?”

“I think bringing up constitutional supremacy when the topic is statutory construction is you trying to sound smart about something that wasn’t even assigned.”

“See? That’s exactly what I mean. You can’t think outside the assigned reading. Everything has to fit neatly into today’s lesson plan,” he said in a very condescending manner. I just wanted to reach for his neck and choke him at this point!

“That’s called being a good student!”

“That’s called being afraid to engage with ideas na hindi pre-approved ng syllabus.”

“I’m not afraid of anything! I just believe in actually answering the question that was asked instead of showing off with irrelevant constitutional theories!”

“Irrelevant? The constitutional interpretation issue is the heart of the case—”

“The statutory construction issue is the heart of the case! That’s why it’s in the Statutory Construction syllabus!”

“And that’s exactly your problem. You think the syllabus defines the boundaries of legal analysis.”

“The syllabus defines what we’re supposed to be learning today!”

“Learning, yes. But thinking? That should go beyond whatever’s printed sa perfectly organized study materials mo.”

Grabe, this guy was impossible! “You know what? Just because you like to go off on tangents doesn’t make you a deeper thinker. Sometimes the straightforward analysis is the correct analysis.”

“And sometimes the straightforward analysis is just… safe. Predictable. The kind of answer that gets you good grades without actually challenging anything.”

“Oh, so now getting good grades is a bad thing?”

“Getting good grades by playing it safe is… limiting.”

“Playing it safe? I demolished your analysis yesterday and gave a comprehensive response today. That’s not playing it safe—that’s being better prepared than you are.”

“You gave the response that was expected. You hit all the points from the assigned reading. Very thorough, very complete, very… unsurprising.”

Oh, my god.

Can I just punch him?!

“Unsurprising? You mean correct!”

“I mean predictable. You think like a student who’s very good at studying but not necessarily good at understanding.”

“Understanding? I understand these cases better than you do!”

“You understand them better than I do for the purposes of this class. But do you understand their broader implications? Or do you just understand what you need to know for the recitation?”

“Those are the same thing!”

“Are they?” he said as he gave me a very annoying smile before tapping my head like I was some child and then he went back inside the classroom.

And I fucking hated that I stomped my feet like a child because by doing that, I felt like I just proved his fucking point!

---

Our Persons class was tense.

Thankfully, hindi ako natawag because I didn’t think that I was in the right head space for a recitation. I was still fuming! Alam mo ’yung feeling na saka ka lang naka-isip ng good response after the argument?

I was so pissed! Bakit ngayon ko lang naiisip lahat ng good comebacks sa mga sinabi ng epal na katabi ko?!

“This will be a short quiz on marriage and its essential requisites,” Ma’am said, distributing the questionnaires. “You have thirty minutes.”

Tsk.

Epal talaga na Milo na ’yan. Instead na nakapa-kinig ako sa recits kanina or at least read my notes, I was busy thinking about the comebacks and retorts I could’ve said!

The quiz was straightforward—multiple choice questions about marriage validity and a short essay about void versus voidable marriages. I finished with ten minutes to spare and spent the remaining time reviewing my answers.

When time was called, Ma’am instructed us to exchange papers for checking.

“Exchange your paper to the person beside you,” she said.

Of course .

At this point, I was convinced that the universe was conspiring against me.

Of all the people in this classroom, I ended up exchanging papers with Milo.

He handed me his paper with a neutral expression, and I gave him mine. Ma’am started reading the correct answers, and we began checking.

Milo’s answers were… actually pretty good. He got most of the multiple choice correct, and his essay was solid. I found myself being fair in my grading, giving him partial credit where it was due.

But when I looked at how he was checking my paper, I was shocked.

He was being incredibly technical. Like, insanely technical.

For one of my multiple choice answers, I had written “A” but my handwriting made it look slightly like it could be a “4”. It was clearly an “A” if you looked at it reasonably, but Milo marked it wrong.

“Hey,” I whispered. “That’s obviously an A.”

“Looks like a 4 to me,” he whispered back, not looking up.

“Are you serious right now?”

“I’m being objective.”

“Why would I put 4?! A, B, C, and D are the choices!”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I was actually wondering. Why did you put 4?”

My lips parted.

Oh, my god.

For my essay, he deducted points for what he claimed were “incomplete statements” that were perfectly clear to any reasonable reader. He marked off points for “insufficient detail” on parts that were actually quite detailed.

I wanted to protest, but our prof was calling for the papers to be passed forward.

I wanted to be an asshole, too, and baguhin ’yung pagcheck ko. For all he knows, baka dyslexic ako and iba ang basa ko sa mga sagot niya. Pwede ba na ako lang mababa ang score?!

Before I could change anything, Milo grabbed my paper from his desk and walked to the front to submit it.

When he came back, he sat down with a satisfied expression.

“Thanks for the perfect score, Saffie,” he said with that annoying smile that really made me want to smack him.

**

This story is already at Chapter 13 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at 100php per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 07

I wanted to study more.

Actually, scratch that—I needed to study more. After that whole quiz fiasco with Milo being ridiculously technical about my answers, I was beyond pissed off. I kept replaying it in my head—the way he marked my clearly correct “A” as wrong, how he deducted points for perfectly reasonable answers, and that smug grin when he said “thanks for the perfect score.”

Ang kapal talaga!

I actually debated telling Sir about what he did. I mean, deliberately grading someone’s quiz unfairly was basically academic dishonesty, right? But then I realized how that would look—like I was running to the professor to complain about a quiz grade. Super childish. Plus, it was just a quiz, hindi naman major exam… right?

But still, it pissed me off. A lot.

So instead of complaining, I decided to channel my anger into something productive—studying. If Milo wanted to play dirty, fine. I’d just make sure I was so prepared that no amount of unfair grading could touch me.

I stayed up until 2AM reading cases that weren’t even assigned yet. I studied topics we hadn’t covered in class, cross-referenced jurisprudence, and even read law review articles for fun. Okay, not for fun—for spite. But whatever worked.

I didn’t just stick to the syllabus this time. I read beyond the assigned materials, dove into interpretation theories, and explored the broader implications of every case. If Milo wanted to accuse me of being too “by-the-book,” I’d show him I could think outside the box, too.

By the time I went to sleep, my head was spinning with legal doctrines and concepts. But I felt ready for whatever academic battle Milo wanted to throw at me next.

---

When I got to school the next day, I was expecting another normal day of classes and maybe another intellectual sparring match with my least favorite blockmate.

What I wasn’t expecting was to find my entire block in full panic mode.

“Oh my god, Saffron!” Sheena grabbed my arm the moment I walked into the hallway. “Narinig mo ba?”

“Alin?”

“There’s a surprise quiz in Criminal Law today!”

I blinked. “How is it a surprise if we already know about it?” I asked, confused.

“Julie’s friend is in Sir’s other class sa ibang school,” she explained, looking stressed. “She texted her this morning. Apparently, they had the same quiz yesterday.”

“So it’s not really a surprise,” I said slowly.

“That’s not the point!” She was practically hyperventilating. “The point is we’re not prepared! We only read the assigned cases, pero apparently the quiz covers everything we’ve discussed so far this semester!”

I looked around at my classmates. Everyone looked like they were about to have a collective nervous breakdown. People were frantically flipping through textbooks, sharing notes, and discussing whether they should just skip class entirely.

“Wait,” I said. “This is Criminal Law, right? Our favorite subject?”

I mean, compared naman sa ibang subjects namin, relatively easier naman ’tong subject na ’to. Baka nakisama ako sa nervous breakdown nila if Consti iyong ‘surprise’ quiz namin.

“Your favorite subject,” someone corrected. I didn’t like the tone. Bakit ba parang mortal sin ko pa na nag-aaral ako? Were they held at gunpoint when they enrolled in law school? ’Di ba dapat lahat kami nag-aaral naman talaga?

I shrugged. Actually, I felt pretty good about this. Criminal Law was indeed my favorite subject, and after last night’s spite-studying session, I was probably more prepared than usual. Plus, I’d been reading ahead anyway.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said, trying to sound encouraging. “Sir usually asks fair questions.”

“Fair questions?” Sheena looked at me like I’d grown a second head.

The panic in the classroom was getting to me. Even though I felt prepared, the collective anxiety was making it hard to think clearly. I needed some air.

“I’m just going to take a walk,” I said. “May thirty minutes pa tayo para magreview.”

“Where are you going?” Emma asked.

“Just around. I’ll be back before class starts.”

I walked down the hallway, trying to clear my head and mentally review what I’d studied. Criminal Law principles, cases, criminal law doctrines—I had it all organized in my mind.

As I was walking, I happened to glance toward the area where I’d seen Milo smoking before.

And there he was again.

’Yan ba ang permanent address niya? Bakit gusto niya don? Halos wala ngang ilaw sa part na ’yon ng school and walang dumadaan.

Even from a distance, I could see that he looked stressed. His shoulders were tense, and he was smoking like his life depended on it. He kept running his free hand through his hair—a nervous habit I’d noticed during particularly difficult recitations.

See? He’s not broke talaga! Ang mahal kaya ng cigarette… I think. I had no interest na magsmoke.

I found myself stopping and just… watching him.

Why did he look so worried? Was he also panicking about the quiz? That would be kind of satisfying, actually. Mr. “I-think-beyond-the-syllabus” was probably just as unprepared as everyone else.

But watching him look so anxious made me feel weird. Not satisfied like I’d expected. Just… weird.

After a few minutes, Milo suddenly looked in my direction. Our eyes almost met across the distance, and I quickly ducked behind a pillar like some kind of stalker.

Then I realized how ridiculous I was being. Why was I hiding? It’s not like I was doing anything wrong! I was just walking around. He was the one smoking in public areas. Report ko siya d’yan kay Tito—I mean sa Dean! Para at least maka-ganti man lang ako sa ginawa niya sa quiz ko. Super unfair talaga!

I straightened up and walked back toward the classroom, trying to look casual and definitely not like I’d been watching him.

Kasi hindi naman talaga.

Why would I be watching him? Ew lang talaga.

I didn’t know how fast Milo could walk, but apparently pretty fast, because we ended up reaching the classroom door at almost exactly the same time.

“Following me now?” he asked with that annoying grin.

“In your dreams,” I replied.

“Why would I even dream about you?” he replied.

One of these days…

One of these days I’d be able to smack that arrogant face of his.

We were about to enter the classroom when suddenly some people surrounded us.

“Wait!” Sheena called out. “You two need to agree first.”

“Agree to what?” I asked, confused. “Also, bakit kaming dalawa?” I asked again, rebuking the idea or concept of anything na kaming dalawa.

“We’ve decided,” she announced, “that we’re going to throw a party instead of taking the quiz.”

“A party?” Milo and I said at the same time, then glared at each other for speaking in unison.

“Yup. We’re going to tell Sir that it’s someone’s birthday or something, and ask if we can postpone the quiz,” Sheena explained. “But we need everyone to agree.”

“Why do you need me specifically to agree?” I asked. “Also, no offense but ano naman ang pakielam ni sir sa kung sinuman ang may birthday?”

Tama siguro na nakaka-sira ng ulo ang law school.

These people are making less and less sense as day went by.

“Kasi you two are OA magrecitation,” someone called out from the back. Ouch, ha! “Parang kayo lang yung mga taong mas gusto mag-quiz kaysa mag-party.”

“OA mag-recitation?” I repeated, offended.

“Come on, Saffron,” Sheena said. “You and Milo are like the biggest nerds in our block. If you two don’t agree to the party, parang killjoys kayo.”

I looked at Milo, trying to gauge his reaction. If he looked unprepared for the quiz, there was no way I’d agree to postpone it. I was ready, and this could be my chance to prove once and for all that I was better than him academically.

But Milo just shrugged. “Whatever. Party or quiz, doesn’t matter to me.”

Didn’t matter to him? Either he was bluffing, or he was actually prepared. Or he was just being his usual arrogant self.

“Fine,” I said. “Party it is.”

The collective sigh of relief from our classmates was audible.

As if naman papayag ako na siya ’yung maging cooperative blockmate tapos ako ’yung unreasonable and epal? In his dreams.

“Great!” Sheena clapped her hands. “Now we just need someone to convince Sir…”

Everyone looked at me.

“Why me?” I asked, though I already suspected the answer.

“Because he’s friends with your dad, right?” she said casually.

I stiffened. All at once, I became hyperaware of Milo standing right beside me, probably listening to every word. Here it was again—the assumption that I got special treatment because of my family connections.

“I… don’t think that’s how it works,” I said carefully.

“Come on, Saffie,” someone pleaded. “Just ask him nicely. Tell him it’s someone’s birthday!”

I could feel Milo’s eyes on me, but I didn’t dare look at him. This was exactly the kind of thing he’d use against me later—more evidence that the game was “rigged in my favor.”

“Okay,” I said quietly. “I’ll ask.”

---

What followed was the most chaotic thirty minutes of my law school experience so far.

Apparently, desperate law students could work miracles. Within minutes, people were texting friends from other buildings, calling significant others to bring food, and somehow producing balloons and decorations from thin air.

“Where did you get all this?” I asked Sheena as she hung up colorful decors around the classroom.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to,” she replied mysteriously.

By the time Sir arrived, our classroom had been transformed into what looked like a legitimate birthday party. There was cake, balloons, decorations, and even party hats.

“Good evening, class,” Sir said as he walked in, clearly confused by the festive atmosphere.

“HAPPY FRIDAY!” everyone shouted in unison.

Yup.

Happy Friday kasi wala namang may birthday today.

Sir blinked. “Happy… Friday?”

See? He’s equally confused! Who the hell celebrates Friday? But okay, we were committed to this charade now.

“Sir,” I said, stepping forward with my most innocent smile. “We were wondering if we could postpone today’s quiz. We wanted to celebrate… the end of the week?”

Sir looked around the decorated classroom, then at the cake, then at our hopeful faces.

“Is this because you heard about the quiz from my other section?” he asked dryly.

Busted. We all froze.

But then Sir nodded. “Well, sayang naman ang preparations niyo. But we’ll still have a quiz next week.”

“YES SIR!” my blockmates chorused.

Seriously… mas na-stress pa ako sa impromptu party presentation kaysa sa pagrereview.

---

“Okay, party games!” Sheena announced once Sir had left us to our celebration. “First up—charades!”

What followed was an hour of increasingly ridiculous party games. We played charades (legal edition). Sayang hindi ako natawag. May murder pa naman na word na ipapa-hula. What I’d give to be able to legally choke Milo in front of everyone.

Then Julie announced the final game. “Banana game!”

“The what now?” I asked.

I heard stories from my parents and titos and titas about this… game. Dad always reminisced fondly about this game. Kaya minsan wini-wish na lang namin nila ate na deaf kami kapag nagkkwento si Dad about their law school days—also you’d think na hindi siya nag-aral kasi lahat ng kwento niya about lang sa kanila ni Mom. Talk about obsessed.

So, do I want to participate in this game? Definitely not!

“It’s simple,” she explained. “We pair everyone up. One person holds a banana between their legs, and their partner has to eat it without using their hands.”

“Nope,” I said immediately. “Definitely not.”

“Come on, Saffron!” everyone started protesting.

“It’s just a game!”

“Don’t be such a killjoy!”

“Everyone has to participate!”

“Fine,” I said grudgingly kasi parang pinagtutulungan na nila akong lahat. “But I get to choose my partner.”

“Actually,” Sheena said with an evil smile, “partners are already assigned.”

She started reading from a list. “Emma and James, Rose and Kevin, Saffie and…”

Please not Milo. Please not Milo. Please not—

“Milo!”

“NO,” I said immediately. “Definitely no. Absolutely not.”

“Ayaw mo ba sa akin?” Milo asked with mock hurt, which made everyone laugh. This freak!

“Obviously,” I said.

“Come on, Saffron,” they pleaded. “It’s just for fun.”

“Everyone else is doing it.”

“Don’t be KJ.”

The guilt-tripping was relentless. Wala bang ibang pwede na kumain ng saging na ’yan?

After five minutes of block pressure, I finally gave in.

“Fine! But if anyone takes photos, I’m suing for violation of privacy,” I warned them all.

I looked at Milo, expecting him to make some sarcastic comment, but instead he just rolled his eyes and walked over to one of the other girls.

“Actually, I’d rather switch partners,” he announced.

My lips parted.

Wait, what? He was rejecting me as a partner? Me? Saffron Rose Borromeo? After I’d already agreed?

My pride immediately flared up. “Fine by me,” I said coolly, even though I felt oddly… rejected? Which was stupid because I didn’t want to be his partner anyway.

Milo ended up paired with someone else, and I got paired with Kevin, which was infinitely less awkward. Kevin was sweet and harmless, and he kept apologizing for the weirdness of the game.

But as I knelt down to start the game (honestly who the fuck even invented this game?! This was such a horny game!) I found myself glancing over at Milo and his partner. And weirdly—very weirdly—Milo was looking back at me.

Our eyes met for a moment, and I felt this strange flutter in my stomach that I immediately pushed away. This was ridiculous. I was just worked up from all the party excitement and academic stress. It had nothing to do with Milo.

If anything, bwisit ang nafi-feel ko for him and because of him.

I forced myself to focus on the game, trying to eat the banana as quickly as possible so this nightmare could end.

“Saffron wins!” someone announced as I finished first.

“Wow, thanks. What a freaking badge of honor,” I muttered sarcastically.

Everyone was laughing and cheering, but I felt weird and confused and I needed to get out of there.

“I’m just going to…” I gestured vaguely toward the door. “Bathroom. Be right back.”

I escaped to the hallway and leaned against the wall, trying to process what the hell had just happened.

“What the fuck was that?” I whispered to myself.

**

This story is already at Chapter 14 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at 100php per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 08

I needed a reset.

After that whole banana game fiasco—and whatever the hell that weird moment with Milo was—I realized I’d been thinking about him way more than I should. Which was disturbing on multiple levels.

First, he was my academic rival.

Second, he was an arrogant jerk who thought I didn’t deserve to be in law school.

Third, and most importantly, I had better things to do with my brain space than analyze why Maximiliano Jose Delgado kept staring at me during party games.

So I decided to do what any girl does when she needs to clear her head—a weekend reset.

Saturday morning, I booked myself a full spa day at Shangri-La. Massage, facial, mani-pedi—the whole works. I even got that expensive hair treatment that Ate Kallie always raves about. By the time I was done, I felt like a completely new person.

“Feeling better, Miss?” my masseuse asked as I was leaving.

“So much better,” I replied, and I actually meant it.

That evening, I watched Hamilton at the Cultural Center. I’d seen it before sa New York, so when there was a chance to watch it here in Manila, I immediately grabbed the chance. Siguro the universe knew na mabu-bwisit ako this exact day kaya sakto na ngayon din ’yung showing.

Some culture and good music would help reset my priorities—plus, Aaron Burr’s whole “wait for it” philosophy seemed relevant to my current situation with law school.

After the show, I met up with some college friends at this new rooftop bar in BGC. The vibe was perfect—good music, strong drinks, and people who had nothing to do with law school or academic rivalries.

People who are not Milo.

“Saffie!” My friend Mika waved me over to their table. “You look amazing! Law school stress is definitely not showing.”

I laughed and joined them, ordering a cosmopolitan and trying to forget about constitutional interpretation and statutory construction for one night.

About an hour in, this really cute guy approached our table. Tall, mestizo, and very cute—exactly my usual type.

“Hi,” he said with a charming smile. “I’m Carlos. I couldn’t help but notice you from across the bar.”

Normally, I would have been flattered. Carlos was objectively attractive, well-dressed, and seemed genuinely interested. But for some weird reason, I found myself saying, “Thanks, but I’m not really looking to meet anyone tonight.”

Mika stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Saffie, what the hell? He’s cute!”

“I know,” I said, watching Carlos walk away with a confused expression. I was equally confused! Why did I just say that? Totoo bang nasiraan na talaga ako ng bait sa law school?! College me would never do that! “I’m just… focused on school right now.”

But even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t the real reason. There was something about Carlos that felt… wrong.

Like he was too easy, too predictable.

Too safe.

Which was disturbing because since when did I prefer complicated over safe?

All the guys I had a thing with in the past, they were all interested in me first—because it felt safer that way. From the get go, alam ko na agad na interested sila… and it’s just up to me to be interested, as well.

I’d always been that way.

I ended the night early, making excuses about having to study, and went back to my hotel room at Shangri-La The Fort. I’d decided to do a mini staycation to complete my reset weekend.

But lying in that huge hotel bed, staring at the city lights, I couldn’t stop thinking about dark hair and annoying smirks and the way someone had looked at me during that stupid banana game.

“Get it together, Saffron,” I muttered to myself.

---

Sunday meant family time at Tita Katherine’s house in Alabang. The whole extended family would be there for our monthly gathering, which usually meant good food, lots of chismis, and invasive questions about my personal life—seriously, why always me? Mas interesting naman iyong lovelife nung iba kaysa sa ’kin! If any, I have enemy life!

“Saffie!” Tita Katherine enveloped me in a hug the moment I walked through the door. “So, so pretty! Law school is treating you well,” she gushed as she hugged me.

“Thanks, Tita. You look great too,” I replied as I hugged her back. I love her so much. I’m really thankful that my parents made such good friends in law school.

I really needed to step up my game and find friends! I needed to shift my focus elsewhere.

The house was already full of relatives. My younger cousins were running around the garden, my titos were discussing… honestly I try not to listen to their conversation because it’s so boring in the living room, and my titas were in the garden.

I barely made it through the front door before the interrogation began.

“Saffie, how’s law school?” one of my cousins asked.

“Hmm. Okay naman. A bit challenging, pero I’m managing.”

“Any cute classmates?” someone asked.

I looked at her. “Did Sage tell you something?” I asked as I eyed her.

“As if! But basing on your reaction, meron nga?!” She grinned at me. “Come on, Saffie. May crush ka na ba?”

“No!” I said quickly. Too quickly, apparently, because suddenly all my cousins in the room were looking at me with interest.

“That was very defensive,” said Sage. “Usually when someone says ‘no’ that fast, it means yes.”

“It means no,” I insisted. “I’m focused on my studies.”

“Uy, she’s blushing!” Ate Kallie said.

“I am not blushing!” I said. “I’m not—” Natigilan ako sa sinasabi ko because Lucho pinched my nose. I immediately hit his hand away. “Kainis naman ’to!”

“So, who’s the unlucky guy?”

“Unlucky my ass. Swerte niya if ever, noh. Ang ganda and ang talino ko kaya.”

“And ang yabang din.”

I rolled my eyes. “Honest lang ako.”

The teasing continued for another ten minutes until I literally stood up and ran towards the kitchen to help with dinner prep. Mas stressful pa ’yon kaysa sa law school recits ko!

Ate Lily was there, arranging desserts on a platter.

“What was that?” she asked with a knowing smile. Ugh. Ang lakas kasi ng boses nila. Kahit nandito si Ate, narinig niya iyong pinag-uusapan namin.

I groaned. “Nothing. They’re just being annoying as usual,” I complained, grabbing a serving spoon to help her.

“Well, you did react pretty defensively when they asked,” she said with a teasing tone.

“Not you too!”

Ate Lily laughed. “I’m just saying, your reaction was… interesting.”

We worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she spoke again.

“You know, you’re allowed to enjoy law school.”

“I am enjoying it.”

“I mean enjoy the social aspects. The friendships. Maybe even the romance.”

“Like what you did?” I asked with a brow arched. I laughed out loud kasi super bilis namula ng face niya.

Ate Lily cleared her throat. “We’re not talking about me,” she said. See! She’s trying to discuss my ‘love life’ tapos siya ayaw idiscuss ’yung sa kanya.

“There’s no one, okay? I’m really just focused on school,” sabi ko na lang. Knowing Ate Lily, she’ll walkout of here and iiwanan ako ayusin ’yung dessert if I push her na love life niya na lang pag-usapan namin.

Ate Lily studied my face for a moment. “Oh,” she said slowly. “Oh, there’s definitely someone.”

“What? No! I just said—”

“Your face right now is the same face you made when you had a crush on that basketball player in high school. The same face you made when you liked that guy from Brent. There’s someone.”

“There’s no one, okay,” I repeated. “He’s just… an arrogant jerk who judges people based on assumptions.”

Ate Lily chuckled. “Enemies to lovers,” she said. “You know that’s how our parents started, right? How Dad annoyed Mom a lot back in law school?”

“Hell no!” I said immediately. Kinilabutan ako don! “Absolutely not. There’s no ‘to lovers’ anything happening here.”

“Never say never, Saffie.”

“I’m saying never. Definitely never . This is not some romance novel situation.”

“Sure.” Ate Lily didn’t look convinced. “What’s his name?”

“Milo. And before you ask, no, I don’t like him. I just… I’ve been thinking about him more than I should. Which is why I needed this weekend to reset my priorities.”

“Hmm.” Ate Lily was clearly trying not to smile. “And how’s that working out for you?”

I thought about that cute guy at the bar, how I’d turned him down for reasons I couldn’t explain. How I’d spent the night thinking about someone else entirely.

“Terribly,” I admitted.

Ate Lily patted my shoulder sympathetically. “Like I said, never say never.”

---

Monday morning came too soon, and I was back to my usual routine. Library at 7AM, extensive studying, preparing for another week of academic warfare.

But as I settled into my usual spot with my color-coded materials, I felt different. The weekend reset hadn’t worked the way I’d hoped. If anything, talking to Ate Lily had made me more aware of whatever this thing was that I was feeling.

Or baka exhaustion lang ’to.

Kailangan ko na ba ng regular weekly spa treatment? Because clearly, I was losing my mind.

After a few hours of studying, I packed up my things and headed to our first class. As I walked through the hallway, I found myself taking the longer route—the one that passed by the area where I’d seen Milo smoking.

I told myself I was just curious. Maybe checking if he’d be there, looking stressed about today’s class—and that would make me feel better. Kasi academic rivals kami. That’s it.

And there he was, right on schedule. Standing in his usual spot, quietly smoking and looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But this time, he wasn’t alone.

Some girl was standing next to him, talking animatedly while he smoked. She was pretty—long hair, cute outfit, obvious na she was trying to impress him. I hated that I could see how pretty she was even from afar. Bakit ba kasi ang linaw ng eyesight ko?

“Report ko sila dyan sa Dean, e,” I muttered under my breath, though I wasn’t sure why I cared about smoking violations all of a sudden.

I watched them from my vantage point, telling myself I was just observing the situation objectively. The girl was clearly flirting—touching his arm when she talked, laughing too hard at whatever he was saying, standing closer than necessary.

She’s so clearly flirting—hindi naman ganyan ka-funny si Milo para maka-tawa siya nang ganon.

And Milo? He wasn’t exactly stopping her. He seemed to be listening, occasionally nodding or responding to whatever she was saying.

“If may time siya to flirt, e di sana mas nag-aral na lang siya,” I said to myself. “Kulang-kulang sagot sa recit,” I murmured.

I stood there longer than I should have, watching their interaction. Who was this girl? Was she from our block? Another section? Did she even go to our school?

Finally, I forced myself to walk away and head to the classroom. This was exactly the kind of distraction I was trying to avoid.

When I got to our room, I took my usual seat and tried to focus on reviewing my notes for today’s recitation. But I kept glancing at the door, waiting for Milo to arrive.

He walked in about five minutes later, looking completely normal. No sign of stress or panic about potentially being unprepared for class. If anything, he looked… satisfied? Content?

Maybe he’s re-energized from all the flirting he did earlier.

As he took his seat, his phone vibrated. He glanced at it, and I caught a glimpse of an unknown number on his screen.

Wait. Did he give that girl his number? Was she texting him already?

“What?” Milo asked, and I realized I’d been staring at him.

“Tsk,” I replied, turning away quickly.

“Baliw,” he muttered, and there was something sharper in his tone than usual.

“I wasn’t staring! I was just… looking around the room.”

“Right. And I just happened to be in your line of sight?”

“Exactly.”

“For five straight minutes.”

“I was thinking.”

“Wow, surprising.”

Ugh! So annoying!

He dangled his phone in front of me. “Gusto mo makita kung sino ’yung nagtext?” he asked. Why was he so annoying?!

“Why would I care who’s texting you?”

“Malay ko sa ’yo. You seemed very interested in my phone.”

“I was not interested in your phone.”

“So you were interested in me?”

I felt my face get warm. “I am not interested in you either!” I said then hininaan ko iyong boses ko dahil napa-tingin sa amin iyong ibang classmates ko. Milo scoffed. Ugh! “I wasn’t—ugh, forget it.”

“You know what,” Milo said, his tone sharper than I’d ever heard it, “if you’re curious about my personal life, you could just ask directly instead of trying to spy on me like some stalker.”

Stalker? “Spy on you? Please. You’re not that interesting.”

“Interesting enough to stare at, apparently.”

“I told you, I wasn’t staring!”

“Right. My mistake.”

But there was no smirk this time. He just looked… annoyed. Really annoyed.

Sir walked in before I could figure out what the hell was happening.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about why Milo seemed so much more irritated with me than usual. As far as I could remember, our last interaction was during the party on Friday. We’d barely talked after that banana game thing. So why was he acting like I’d personally offended him?

What had I done? And why did I even care that he was mad at me?

But as class started, I couldn’t stop thinking about that girl, the unknown number, and why Milo seemed so pissed off at me for reasons I couldn’t understand.

This reset weekend had been a complete failure.

And the worst part? I was starting to suspect that Ate Lily might be right about the whole “never say never” thing.

Which was absolutely— absolutely— terrifying.

**

This story is already at Chapter 16 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at 100php per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 09

I was being ridiculous, and I knew it.

Sitting in Criminal Law class, I found myself stealing glances at Milo every few minutes. The way he took notes with his left hand, how he unconsciously tapped his pen when he was thinking, the small furrow between his brows when he was concentrating.

This was getting out of hand.

But then I had what I thought was a reasonable epiphany—maybe admitting I had a crush on him would actually solve my problem.

I mean, crushes were totally normal, right? Marami naman na akong naging crush! In fact, kinder pa lang ako, may mga crushes na ako (na inaway ni Sage before because according to him, sabi ni Dad, bawal pa raw ako magboyfriend). It didn’t have to mean anything deep or complicated. Maybe acknowledging it would help me move past whatever this weird fixation was.

Kasi ’di ba the more that you are denying something, mas lalo mo lang gugustuhin? Some kind of… reverse psychology. So, if honest ako sa kung anuman ’to, mawawala or mababawasan iyong fixation ko?

Plus, if I was being honest, this whole thing was actually helping my academic performance. I couldn’t afford to look stupid in front of my crush, so I was studying even harder than usual. Win-win situation.

See? Totally rational.

Ang talino ko talaga.

“Borromeo,” Sir called out, and I snapped back to attention. “Discuss the elements of murder as distinguished from homicide.”

I stood up, grateful for the distraction. “Murder requires the presence of qualifying circumstances that are not present in homicide,” I began, launching into a comprehensive analysis of treachery, evident premeditation, and other qualifying circumstances.

As I spoke, I was hyperaware of Milo listening. When I cited People v. Kalalo and its ruling on treachery, I caught him nodding slightly—probably agreeing with my analysis.

Good. Let him see that I knew what I was talking about.

Swerte niya kaya! Imagine ang ganda ko and ang talino tapos may crush ako sa kanya? He should be proud!

After class, I packed up my things with unusual efficiency. For some reason, I found myself wanting to leave early.

Actually, scratch that. I knew exactly the reason—I was hoping to maybe run into Milo somewhere and have a casual conversation. You know, like normal classmates do.

“Saffron!” Sheena called out as I was zipping up my bag. “Want to join us for dinner? We’re thinking of going to that new Korean place sa Katip.”

I was about to say yes when I subtly glanced over at Milo, who was still busy with his phone. He didn’t look up from whatever he was reading, didn’t seem remotely interested in joining any group dinner plans.

“Actually, I think I’ll pass,” I said, surprising myself. “I still have some reading to catch up on.”

“Are you sure? Come on, we’ve been studying non-stop lately.”

“Yeah, maybe next time,” I replied with an apologetic smile.

I glanced at Milo na seryoso pa rin sa kung anuman ang nasa phone niya. Ano kaya ’yan—

Tsk. Bakit parang mas lumalala ang curiosity ko?

Pero for sure kahit hindi naman ako curious sa kanya, ’di pa rin ako sasama sa dinner. I’d rather go home and rest kasi another recit na naman bukas. Hindi ko alam kung ano ba ang nasa classcard ko. Super malas! Lagi na lang akong natatawag samantalang may iba akong classmates na never pa natawag sa recit.

Our blockmates started filing out, chattering about where exactly they wanted to eat and who was driving. I pretended to be looking for something in my bag, taking my time so I wouldn’t look too obvious about staying behind.

Milo was still absorbed in his phone, completely unaware that the room was emptying out around him. He was frowning slightly at whatever he was reading, and I found myself wondering what could be so important that he’d completely tuned out the world.

After a few more minutes, he finally looked up, probably expecting to see the usual chaos of students packing up and discussing plans. Instead, he found the classroom completely empty except for me.

“San sila?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.

“They’re having dinner,” I replied casually, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

Milo nodded a little, processing this information. Then he went back to his phone for a moment before seemingly giving up on whatever he was doing and packing up his own things.

I walked toward the door at the same time he did, trying to look like it was pure coincidence that we were leaving together.

“You didn’t join them?” he asked as we stepped into the hallway.

“Not in the mood. You?”

“Wasn’t invited,” he said simply, but there wasn’t any bitterness in his voice. Just a statement of fact.

“I’m sure if you wanted to join—”

“I didn’t want to join,” he said, cutting me off. I pursed my lips after that. Okay, then.

We walked in comfortable silence for a bit, and I realized we were headed in the same direction. When we reached the main hallway, instead of turning left toward the parking area where my driver was probably waiting, I found myself turning right, following the path Milo was taking.

He seemed to notice after a few minutes. “Are you stalking me?” he asked, but his tone was more amused than annoyed. Tsk. Mas malala pa sa weather ’yung mood niya! Pabago-bago!

“Hindi, ah. I’m headed this way din,” I lied smoothly.

Milo gave me a skeptical look but didn’t say anything else. We continued walking until we reached the area near the back of the building—the same spot where I’d seen him smoking before.

“What?” he asked when I lingered as he pulled out a cigarette. “Maninigarilyo ka rin?”

“Ew, no. That’s bad for your health, you know.”

“So is law school, but here we are.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Fair point.”

He lit his cigarette and took a drag, leaning against the wall in what I was starting to recognize as his default smoking position. I stood a respectful distance away, trying to look casual and definitely not like I’d orchestrated this entire encounter.

Buti na lang ’di artista si Milo. Imagine if he’d endorse a cigarette? Baka ma-convince ako! He made smoking look so fun!

“So,” I said, because apparently I couldn’t handle comfortable silence. “How long have you been smoking?”

“Why?”

“Just curious. I’ve never really been around people who smoke regularly.”

“Of course you haven’t,” he said, but it didn’t sound mean. Just… observational.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just that you probably grew up in a very different environment than I did.”

“You don’t know anything about how I grew up.”

“Don’t I?” He looked at me with those dark eyes that seemed to see too much. “Private schools, family driver, designer bags, parents who are judges and lawyers…”

“Those are just… circumstances. They don’t define my entire childhood.”

“No, but they shaped it.”

Na-feel ko na kung saan na naman papunta iyong conversation namin. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject. Ayoko namang i-kwento pa sa kanya na my parents never had it easy. So, kung anuman ang meron kami ngayon, I will not be apologizing for it.

“Where do you usually study? I never see you in the main library,” I asked, instead.

“Different places.”

“Like where?”

“Public libraries. Coffee shops. Sometimes at home.”

“Don’t you find it hard to concentrate in public places? All that noise and distraction?”

“You learn to tune it out.”

“That’s actually kind of impressive. I need complete silence to focus properly.”

Milo took another drag of his cigarette. “Must be nice to have that luxury.”

There it was again—that subtle reminder of the differences between us. But this time, instead of getting defensive, I found myself genuinely curious.

“What’s your family like?” I asked.

“Bakit kailangan mong malaman?”

“I don’t know. We’re classmates, but I feel like I don’t know anything about you,” I said with a small smile.

“Nothing interesting.”

“I doubt that. Everyone has a story.”

“Some stories are more interesting than others.”

“Try me.”

Milo studied my face for a moment, like he was trying to figure out if I was genuinely curious or just making conversation.

“Ikaw? Besides your influencer brother, what’s your family like?” he asked instead. Tsk. Masyadong mysterious! Hindi na nga mahanap online, sobrang ilap pa offline. Kailangan ata sa kanya itali sa upuan at gamitan ng interrogation techniques.

“Normal, I guess. My parents work a lot. Sage is… well, you probably know more about Sage than I do, given his online presence.”

“I don’t really follow social media.”

“At all?”

“At all.”

“Must be nice,” I said. “I’m admitting to be a slave of Tiktok. Doon ko kinukuha ang news source ko,” I continued and he looked at me like he was horrified and he was judging me. “I mean, I verify pa rin naman! Grabe ’yung judgment? Hindi naman ako naniniwala sa fakes.”

“Sure,” he said as he took another drag.

“Tsk. Judger,” I said with a little pout. “How about you? Hindi talaga? Wala kang Instagram account? Kahit Finsta ?”

He looked at me like he had no idea kung ano ang sinasabi ko. I explained to him the concept. This was actually my idea of expertise! At one point, naging ‘influencer’ din ako nung college ko but when I decided na maglaw school, I stopped na rin. I wanted to focus my whole attention and energy dito.

“Madami akong ibang ginagawa,” he said.

“Like what?”

“Basta,” he said. “Bakit ang dami mong tanong?” he asked.

“Bawal ba?”

“Yes.”

“Pa-mysterious naman,” I said, pouting. “I’m just curious… since we’re blockmates and all that.”

But the truth was, I was asking so many questions because this was literally the only way I could learn anything about him. It’s not like I could Google him or stalk his social media profiles. The guy was completely invisible online, which was both frustrating and intriguing.

“I looked you up online,” I found myself saying before I could stop myself.

Milo raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And there’s nothing. Like, literally nothing. No social media, no mentions in articles, no digital footprint whatsoever. How is that even possible in this age?”

“So you are stalking me,” he said, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

“It’s not stalking! It’s… research. Normal people have some kind of online presence.”

“Maybe I’m not normal people.”

“Obviously. But why the complete anonymity? Are you in witness protection or something?”

Now he did laugh. “No, I’m not in witness protection.”

“Then what? Are you secretly famous? Are you hiding from someone? Do you have a criminal record?”

“Saffron.”

“Are you actually an undercover journalist doing an exposé on law school culture?”

“Saffron.”

“Or maybe you’re—”

“I just don’t like putting my personal business online, okay? Some of us prefer privacy.”

“But not even a basic Facebook profile? Not even LinkedIn?”

“You checked my LinkedIn?”

“So, may LinkedIn ka?”

Instead of answering me, nanigarilyo na naman siya. Tsk. Hirap naman kausapin nito!

“May LinkedIn ka pero private? Possible ba ’yon? That’s so weird… “ I wondered out loud. Wala pa akong LinkedIn kasi never pa naman ako nagwork. I figured I’ll just create an account kapag working na ako.

So, ibig sabihin may work si Milo? Ano kaya ’yon? Kaya ba ’di ko siya nakikita sa school? All this time, working-student siya? But he looks rich naman… so feel niya lang talaga magwork?

That’s nice.

Admirable, even.

“What’s weird is that you think it’s weird. Not everyone needs to broadcast their entire life to strangers on the internet.”

“I don’t broadcast my entire life!”

“Don’t you? Your Instagram is public. I could probably piece together your entire weekly routine just from your stories.”

I stared at him. “You looked at my Instagram?”

“You literally just told me you tried to look me up online. How is that different?”

“Because you actually found something!”

“And you found nothing, which apparently bothers you more than it should.”

He had a point, but I wasn’t about to admit it.

“I’m just saying, it’s suspicious. Like, what are you hiding?”

“Maybe the question is why you need to know so much about me.”

“I don’t need to know. I’m just curious.”

“Are you curious about all our blockmates?”

“Yes,” sagot ko kasi I’d rather die than admit na ni hindi ko nga alam names ng iba naming blockmates—which I should really start learning! Almost half-way na kaya kami sa sem!

“Okay…” he said. “Ano’ng alam mo sa block natin?”

I was quiet.

Wala akong alam sa kanila kasi wala naman akong interes sa kanila!

“That’s what I thought,” Milo said, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his foot.

We stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of his question hanging between us.

“So what is it about me specifically that makes you so curious?” he asked.

I could feel heat rising in my cheeks. “What?” I asked. “Hindi ako curious.”

“You just said before na curious ka dahil blockmates tayo.”

“Huh? I don’t remember saying that. Baka sa imagination mo lang ’yan.”

“I think you do.”

Another silence. Longer this time.

Finally, Milo walked over to the nearby trash can and threw away his cigarette butt. When he turned back to me, his expression was unreadable.

“Look,” he said quietly. “Being curious is normal. But whatever this is…” He gestured vaguely between us. “Maybe just… keep your curiosity to yourself.”

And with that, he picked up his bag and walked away, leaving me standing there feeling like I’d just been politely but firmly rejected.

I watched him disappear around the corner, my face burning with embarrassment.

The message was clear—stay away.

**

This story is already at Chapter 17 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at 100php per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 10

After that humiliating conversation with Milo near the smoking area, I made a decision—complete reset.

No more stolen glances during class. No more analyzing every word na sinasabi niya during recitations. No more trying to “accidentally” run into him around campus. Definitely no more pathetic attempts at casual conversation na nagtatapos with him basically telling me to stay away.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I am Saffron Rose Borromeo.

I am smart, accomplished, and I have better things to do.

From now on, Milo Delgado would be nothing more than another classmate—a competitor, sure, pero hindi someone na mag-wa-waste ako ng emotional energy thinking about.

I would devote my 100% focus and energy sa law school as I should.

---

Monday morning, nakarating ako sa library at 7AM sharp. I claimed my usual table and spread out my materials. Color-coded highlighters arranged by purpose, syllabus to make sure na covered ko lahat ng topics for the day, and source material stacked by priority.

Bigla akong napa-tingin sa likod ko kasi may kumalabit sa akin. I looked behind and saw Sheena. I didn’t know why I was a bit disappointed… which was weird kasi never naman napunta—ugh. Why was I thinking about that creature again? Sinabihan na nga akong keep my curiosity to myself, e. Kailan ba ako madadala? Kapag sinabihan na ako twice to stay away? Grabe, may pride naman ako!

“Grabe, Saffron,” Sheena commented. “You’re here super early.”

“Ikaw din naman,” I replied without looking up from my Criminal Law readings. “Just maximizing study time lang.”

Sheena stayed for a while to chitchat. I normally enjoy chitchat, but for some reason, I was not in the mood. Mas gusto kong mag-aral. I wanted to just study and study and just think about studying. Every second na nag-uusap kami, I felt like study time was being wasted. But it wasn’t as if I could ask her to leave me alone—ayoko naman maging pariah sa block namin.

“Speaking of studying non-stop,” she said after we’ve been chitchatting for 15 minutes. “Inom this Friday?”

I gave her a polite smile. “I’d love to, but I have prior plans na.”

I actually didn’t have any plans—at least for now. I knew I can call my other friends and make plans with them. Ayoko lang sumama sa gala ng block sa Friday. Baka kasi nandon si Milo. I still remember our ‘interaction’ nung last time na nasa club kami. Feel ko isa ’yon sa determining factor kung bakit nagka-‘crush’ ako sa kanya. Like for a moment, I was deluded that he cared about me.

Tsk.

Cared about me? Siya na nga nagsabi na hinatak niya lang ako kasi he was afraid that I’d embarrass the whole block.

Baka delulu nga lang talaga ako.

“Aww, okay,” sabi niya.

I just smiled at her and prayed inside my head that she’d leave na. Same naman kami ng subject later. ’Di ba siya kinakabahan sa recit? Kasi ako every waking hour ko ata ay kinakabahan ako na matatawag ako sa recitation… which was proving true every time dahil may sumpa ata iyong classcard ko at laging nabubunot for recitation.

---

During Criminal Law that evening, nung nag-ask si Sir about the elements of robbery, I quickly volunteer and delivered a flawless recitation na nag-cover hindi lang ng basic elements pero pati na rin ng distinctions between robbery and theft, yung quantum of evidence required, at recent jurisprudential developments.

“That will do,” Sir said with obvious approval… I mean, feel ko lang naman!

Hindi ko man lang tiningnan si Milo para makita yung reaction niya. Wala akong pake. This was about my own academic performance, hindi about impressing or competing with anyone else.

After class, diretso ako ulit sa library and studied until closing time.

This became my routine for the next two weeks. Gising ng 5AM, quick workout, shower, then straight to the library by 7AM. Study until mag-start yung classes, attend all lectures with laser focus, then back to the library until it closed.

I declined all invites about joining study groups—ang bagal nila mag-move and nako-cover na nila yung material na na-master ko na. I also declined invites about going to lunch with my blockmates—eating was just a necessary fuel break between study sessions. I even stopped checking Sage’s social media updates, which was saying something.

I was just… studying.

But this was good, right? Gusto ko rin naman ng magandang grades. And although I know that my parents would not pressure me about having high grades, syempre deep deep inside them, gusto nila na mataas ang grades ko.

So, tama lang talaga ’tong ginagawa ko—both for my peace of mind and for my future.

“We’re starting to tampo na,” a blockmate told me one Thursday as I declined another invitation to drink. “You’re always declining invites.”

“Aww, sorry,” I quickly said. “It’s just that my Friday nights are already booked.”

She grinned. “Oh… date night?”

For some reason, my peripheral vision shifted to Milo.

Delulu lang ba ako? Did he stop whatever he was writing? For a split second? Pero malay ko ba if napagod lang siya magsulat and he just rested for a while? Nagkataon lang na I was being asked if may ‘lovelife’ ba ako.

Why must I relate everything to this person? Na obviously wala naman pakielam sa akin?

Tsk.

Hindi nakaka-ganda.

Ayoko naman magsinungaling… Instead, I just smiled. Bahala na siya d’yan kung anuman ang iisipin niya sa smile ko. Basta nagsmile lang ako. If she’ll take it as may lovelife ako, fine. Baka nga better pa ’to para at least hindi na isipin ni Milo na sobra akong ‘curious’ sa kanya.

---

The thing was, this new routine was actually working. My recitations were consistently excellent, my practice exams were scoring sa high 90s, at ramdam ko na I was pulling ahead academically.

During our Persons and Family Relations class, I was asked a complex question about void versus voidable marriages and the doctrine of retroactivity. While my other blockmates fumbled through basic answers, I develired a comprehensive analysis na nag-include ng relevant provisions ng Family Code, Supreme Court decisions, at even comparative law perspectives.

“That will do.”

I sat down. I knew I did well. I felt that familiar rush of academic validation, but it was different now. Cleaner. Hindi siya about beating Milo or impressing anyone—it was about pure satisfaction of intellectual mastery.

Iyon bang sobrang worth it ng pagod ko? Na kahit pagod na pagod na ako dahil 7AM pa lang nasa school na ako and pag-uwi ko, halos tulog na lahat ng tao sa bahay? But whenever I’d do good on my recits, nagiging worth it lahat.

Damn.

Baka nerd nga talaga ako.

Dahil ba wala akong love life as of now kaya sa acads ako kumukuha ng validation ko? But it wasn’t as if it’s bad! There’s nothing wrong with aiming for good grades, noh. Also, I believe that I will meet the right person in the right time. I mean, just look at my parents! Who would’ve thought that they’d end up together? They’re so different but—

Ugh.

Bakit ba naisip ko na naman ’yung difference namin ng epal na ’yon?

Tsk. Kulang pa ata ako sa aral.

After class, I quickly gathered my things. I heard Milo talking to our classmate. He was clarifying something that was discussed earlier. I knew what he was asking but he was the one who told me to mind my own freaking business, so bahala siya d’yan. I even bit my tongue kasi mali iyong answer na sinasabi sa kanya ng ka-block namin.

Dahil sa maling explanation, napa-tingin ako sa gawi nila. Milo’s face was contorted with confusion—iyong tipo ba na kung confused siya kanina, mas confused na siya ngayon dahil sa kung anu-anong pinagsasabi sa kanya ng ka-block namin.

‘Seriously,’ I thought to myself nang bigla siyang mapa-tingin sa gawi ko. I quickly averted my gaze, grabbed my things, and walked out of the classroom.

Bahala siya d’yang malito.

But then immediately felt bad for thinking it. This wasn’t about him anymore. His academic struggles or successes had nothing to do with me.

---

Maintaining this level of intensity was harder than I’d expected. By the third week, I was running purely on coffee and adrenaline. My hands shook slightly nung nagsusulat ako, and I caught myself falling asleep while reading more than once.

During our Constitutional Law class, nag-volunteer ako to discuss a particularly complex case about due process rights. I stood up confidently and began my analysis, pero halfway through, biglang nag-blank yung mind ko.

“The… the Court held that…” I fumbled, staring at the board, but… my mind started to blank.

“Borromeo,” Sir prompted.

I could feel the entire class watching me. This never happened. I was not one who gets stuck during recitations. I was the one na laging may sagot, na pwedeng mag-discuss ng cases backwards and forwards.

“I… the procedural safeguards require…” My voice trailed off as I realized that I couldn’t remember the specific holding, even though I’d read this case three times.

“Did you read the case?”

My heart sank. “Yes, Sir. I read the case.”

But even as I said it, I could see the doubt in his eyes. The way he looked at me—like if I really read it, bakit hindi ko ma-recite? The question hung in the air, and I could feel my blockmates’ stares burning into me.

“Then proceed,” Sir said flatly.

I tried to gather my thoughts, but I couldn’t think.

“The Court… emphasized that due process…” I fumbled again, looking down at my notes but the words began to blur.

“That will do. Jacinto.”

The humiliation was instant and crushing. I sat down heavily, my face burning with embarrassment. Hindi ako makapaniwala na nangyari ’to sa akin. I am Saffron Borromeo. I do not fail recitations. I do not get dismissed like some unprepared student.

For the first time in weeks, I found myself automatically looking toward Milo’s direction. He was watching me with an expression that I couldn’t understand—nor did I want to.

I looked away. I didn’t need his pity.

---

After class, I packed my things in silence. Sheena approached me with a concerned look.

“Saffron, okay ka lang? That’s fine. Malas lang.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, not meeting her eyes. “Just had a momentary lapse. It happens.”

“Are you sure? You look really tired lately—”

“I said I’m fine, Sheena.”

She backed off, probably sensing na I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I knew she meant well, but I was simply not in the mood. I grabbed my bag and headed straight to the library, determined to make up for what happened tonight.

But even as I spread out my materials and tried to focus, I couldn’t shake the humiliation. Sir’s question kept echoing in my head— ‘Did you read the case?’

Of course I read it. I read everything. I prepared for every class religiously. So, why?

Maybe I wasn’t studying hard enough. Maybe I needed to be more thorough, more prepared. Maybe three readings weren’t enough—maybe I needed five, ten, until I could recite every case from memory.

I stayed in the library until closing time, pero this time, hindi ako umuwi.

Instead, I drove around Makati until I found a 24-hour study hub—one of those cramped places full of students and freelancers nursing their coffee and laptops through the night.

“Ma’am, overnight ba kayo?” asked the cashier.

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I’ll take a corner table.”

I set up my materials sa corner booth and ordered the strongest coffee they had. If I couldn’t perform well sa normal study hours, then I needed to extend my study hours. Simple as that.

The place was full of college students cramming for exams, working professionals finishing deadlines, and a few law students like me who looked like they hadn’t seen sunlight in days.

I opened my Constitutional Law textbook and started from the beginning. Every case, every provision, every judicial interpretation. If Sir could ask me about any random detail and I couldn’t answer, then I hadn’t studied enough.

My phone buzzed around 2AM. Text from Sage:

‘Where are you? Mom’s looking for you.’

Shit. I texted back, “Study group. Will be home late.’

‘It’s 2 AM. What study group runs this late?’

“Law student study group,’ I simply replied.

I turned my phone on silent and went back to my reading. I couldn’t afford distractions right now.

---

By 5AM, my eyes were burning and my hands were shaking from too much caffeine, but I had managed to review the subject for today. I felt more prepared than I had in days.

I drove home just as the sun was rising, hoping to grab a quick shower and change of clothes before heading back to school.

But as I quietly opened the front door, I found Sage in the kitchen, and he looked like he was waiting for me.

“Well, well,” he said, looking up from his phone. “Look who decided to come home.”

“I told you, study group,” I said, trying to sound casual as I headed for the stairs.

“Saff.” His voice was serious, which was unusual for Sage. “Upo ka.”

I paused. “I need to shower and get ready for school—”

“Upo.”

Something in his tone made me comply. I sat across from him sa dining table, suddenly aware of how I must look—exhausted, probably smelling like coffee and stress.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked directly.

“Nothing’s going on. I’m just studying—”

“You look like shit, Saff.”

“What’s new? Lagi mo naman akong sinasabihan na haggard,” I replied, trying to make the conversation lighter because I could feel that he’s not happy with me. Kahit ’di ko naman sabihin, for sure alam niya. He’s not my twin for nothing.

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m just—” I added when he remained silent. I hated it when he’s silent. He gets scary when he’s serious and silent.

“Just what?” he asked sarcastically. “Studying yourself to death?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but honestly, I couldn’t remember the answers to his questions.

I was fucking blanking again.

“I’m fine, Sage. I just need to maintain my grades,” I told him. He didn’t say a word. I gave him a smile. “I’m fine,” I repeated. I didn’t know who I was trying to convince at this point.

I headed upstairs. The hot water felt good against my tired muscles, but even as I tried to relax, my mind was already planning my study schedule for the day. I had two classes, which meant two opportunities to redeem myself from yesterday’s failure.

I couldn’t afford another embarrassing moment like that.

I wouldn’t let it happen again.

**

This story is already at Chapter 19 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at 100php per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 11

Midterm week came like a storm I’d been preparing for my entire life.

I’d been living sa 24-hour study hub for the past week, going home lang to shower and change clothes. My parents had stopped asking questions after I snapped at Dad for suggesting I take a break. The moment the words left my mouth, I immediately felt guilty. I knew they meant well. They always did. But I couldn’t handle their concern right now—not when I was this close to proving myself.

Sage kept sending me memes about eating actual food instead of surviving on energy bars and coffee. I kept hoping he wouldn’t tell our parents kasi ayoko silang magworry. Once my grades got better, I’d naturally slow down. I just needed to push through at bumawi sa failed recit ko. I just needed to get through this.

The actual exams felt… manageable. Not easy, pero within my capabilities. I’d studied every possible angle, memorized every case, prepared for every conceivable question. Walking out of each exam, I felt cautiously optimistic. Not perfect, but good enough to maintain my expected position at the top.

I was confident. Why wouldn’t I be? I’d basically lived and breathed law materials for weeks.

---

The test booklets were returned per subject, starting with Constitutional Law on Monday.

I sat in my usual seat, hands folded neatly on my desk, waiting for Sir to call my name. Around me, my blockmates were fidgeting nervously, whispering about their answers, trying to predict their grades.

I wasn’t worried. I’d prepared thoroughly.

“Borromeo,” Sir called out.

I walked to the front, accepted my booklet with a polite smile, and returned to my seat. I didn’t open it immediately—too eager a gesture. Instead, I waited until Sir had finished distributing everyone’s booklets.

“You may now check your results,” he announced.

I opened my blue book to the front page.

I stared at the number. Blinked. Read it again.

It was a good grade. Objectively, it was a very good grade. But it wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t the 90+ I’d been aiming for. It wasn’t the validation I needed after weeks of sacrificing everything.

Around me, I could hear the mixture of celebrations and disappointments.

“Fuck. Thank you. 84,” someone whispered excitedly.

“Shit, 78,” another muttered.

I kept staring at my 86, trying to process what it meant. It meant I’d studied for weeks, given up sleep and health and social life, and still couldn’t break 90.

“Grabe, Milo,” I heard Sheena say. “91? Tapos sabi mo ’di ka nakapagreview!”

My head snapped up involuntarily. Milo was sitting on his usual spot, and I could see him looking down at his booklet. For a brief moment, his expression showed something that looked like… relief? But then it was gone, replaced by his usual neutral mask.

He’d gotten 91.

Five points higher than me.

I felt something cold settle in my stomach. This was just one subject, I reminded myself. One exam. It didn’t mean anything definitive.

But as I watched Milo quietly close his booklet and put it away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe it did mean something.

Maybe it meant he was just better than me.

Baka puro salita lang talaga ako.

---

After Constitutional Law class, I couldn’t focus on anything else. I went through the motions of attending my other classes, pero my mind kept circling back to those five points.

During our break, I found myself in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I looked terrible—dark circles under my eyes, hollow cheeks from weeks of surviving on coffee and energy bars, hair that had lost its usual shine.

I’d sacrificed everything for this exam. And for what? To score five points lower than someone who didn’t even look like he’d been trying? Sa taong lagi kong iniisip na subpar ang recitations?

Wow.

Kinain ko lang lahat ng sinabi ko.

Maybe he was one of those naturally brilliant people who could just show up and perform when it mattered.

The thought made my stomach clench.

“Saffron?” Sheena’s voice startled me. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically. “Just thinking.”

“Second highest ka sa class,” she said like I should be thankful.

“Yeah,” I just said para matapos na. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine.

---

Criminal Law results came back on Wednesday. This time, I opened my blue book immediately, not caring about appearances.

Better than Constitutional Law, but still not what I’d hoped for. Still not outstanding.

I didn’t look around for Milo’s grade this time. I didn’t want to know.

But I heard anyway.

“Holy shit, Milo got 94,” biglang sabi ng isa sa mga classmates namin, not bothering to whisper.

In my favorite subject.

The subject I’d prepared for most thoroughly.

I felt that cold feeling in my stomach spread to my chest.

“Saffron, how was yours?” Sheena asked.

“87,” I said quietly.

“Buti ka pa. Naka-81 lang ako. Super hirap nung tanong ni Sir.”

Great.

She said 87 was great—maybe for her.

I risked a glance at Milo. He was looking at his booklet with that same expression of surprise, like he hadn’t expected to do so well. It was almost like he’d been worried about the results.

But why would someone who got 94 be worried?

I excused myself and went to the library, but I couldn’t concentrate on studying. Instead, I found myself doing math in my head. If Milo had gotten 91 and 94 so far, and if the pattern continued…

His exam average was going to be significantly higher than mine.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. After everything I’d done, all the sacrifices I’d made, I was going to lose to him in the one area that should have been my strength—exams.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my recent messages. There were texts from college friends asking to hang out, invitations to dinners I’d declined, events I’d missed. I’d given up everything for law school.

And I was still losing.

---

After class, Sheena cornered me sa hallway.

“Saffron, are you okay?”

I gave her a polite smile. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

She looked like she was hesitant to continue. Tumingin lang ako sa kanya. I wished that she’d just say her peace and let me go. I didn’t like wasting my time like this. I’d rather study. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks. You look like you haven’t eaten a proper meal since the semester started. And now you’re all quiet and depressed about your grades, which are actually really good.”

“My grades are fine—”

“I agree. They’re fine. They’re good. You’re always in the top 5 highest.”

I stared at her. How could I explain that “fine” and “good” weren’t enough? That I’d built my entire identity around being exceptional, and now I was discovering that maybe I was just… average?

“I’m just tired,” I said.

“You’re not just tired. You’re…” She searched for the right word. “You’re obsessed. With studying, with grades, with beating everyone else.”

I felt my jaw clenching.

Wow.

Why was she talking like she knew me? Blockmates lang naman kami. Hindi kami friends.

“I’m not obsessed—”

“You literally haven’t hung out with us in weeks. You declined every single invitation. You’re living in the library. And for what? So you can be miserable about getting grades that most of us would kill for?”

Her words stung because they were true. But she didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand.

“I just want to do well,” I said. I bit my tongue. I didn’t want to argue with her. Wala akong lakas para makipagtalo kahit kanino.

“You are doing well. But you’re making yourself sick in the process.” Sheena’s expression softened. “Look, I know you’re competitive. We all know that. But this isn’t healthy.”

“I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not. And honestly? It’s affecting the whole block. People are starting to avoid studying with you because you’re so intense.”

Something snapped inside me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you turn every recitation into a competition. You correct people constantly. You act like everyone else is stupid for not understanding things as quickly as you do.”

“I don’t act like people are stupid!”

“Maybe not intentionally, pero that’s how it comes across. Even Milo mentioned it.”

“Milo talked about me?”

“Yeah. He said you seem like you’re under a lot of pressure, and maybe someone should check if you’re okay.”

The fact that Milo—who’d told me to keep my curiosity to myself—was concerned about my wellbeing should have been touching. Instead, it made me furious.

“I don’t need anyone checking on me, especially not him.”

“Saff—”

“You know what, Sheena? If you’re okay with getting average grades, then good for you. But I’m not.” My voice was getting louder, and I could see other students in the hallway turning to look at us. “I didn’t come to law school to be mediocre. I didn’t sacrifice everything just to be satisfied with ‘fine’ and ‘good.’”

Sheena’s face fell. “I never said you should be satisfied with mediocre—”

“That’s exactly what you’re saying! You’re telling me to be happy with grades that are just… ordinary. Well, I’m not ordinary, Sheena. At least, I’m not supposed to be.”

“Saffie, you’re being ridiculous—”

“I’m being ridiculous? I’m being ridiculous for having standards? For wanting to excel at something I’m passionate about?”

“You’re being ridiculous for thinking that 85 to 87 are bad grades! Do you know how many people would kill for those scores?”

“Not me,” mabilis kong sagot.

“So what, you’re just going to study yourself to death?”

“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “If that’s what it takes, yes, I’ll study myself to death.”

Sheena stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Are you… okay? That’s not normal, Saff.”

“Normal?” I looked at her. “When have I ever been normal? When have any of us been normal? We’re in law school, Sheena. We’re supposed to be exceptional.”

“We’re supposed to be students. Human beings. Not academic robots.”

“Easy for you to say when you’re content with being average.”

The words came out harsher than I intended, and I immediately saw the hurt flash across Sheena’s face.

“Wow,” she said quietly. “Is that really what you think of me? Of all of us?”

I wanted to take it back, but I was too angry, too frustrated, too desperate. “I think… I think we have different standards. And that’s fine. But don’t expect me to lower mine just to make you feel better.”

I thought she’d say something back—something worse… but then she just stared at me. Gusto kong bawiin iyong sinabi ko… but that’s the thing with words—once na sinabi mo, hindi mo na mababawi pa. You can’t unsay it and they can’t unhear it.

It’s just… there.

And then she left, leaving me standing in the hallway with curious eyes staring at me and the echo of my own harsh words ringing in my ears.

---

The next few days passed in a blur of avoidance and awkwardness.

Instead of my usual spot, I studied in the corners of the library where I could study alone. When my blockmates tried to include me in conversations, I gave polite but distant responses. Hindi ko alma kung sinabi ni Sheena sa kanila iyong pinag-usapan namin. It didn’t seem like sinabi niya… It’s just my conscience talking.

Kasi alam ko naman na mali iyong sinabi ko.

But it was easier this way. No one to make comments about my study habits. No one to tell me I was being too intense. No one to remind me that my grades were “good enough.”

During recitations, I participated only when called upon. I stopped volunteering additional insights or corrections. I stopped offering to help with difficult concepts.

The isolation was lonely, pero it was also… peaceful. I could focus entirely on my studies without the constant background noise of other people’s expectations and judgments.

I noticed that Milo seemed to be watching me more often during classes. Sometimes I’d catch him looking in my direction with that same expression of concern that Sheena had mentioned. But I ignored it. I didn’t need his pity.

On Thursday, a blockmate approached me after Criminal Law class.

“Hey, Saff. We’re having a study group tomorrow night for the upcoming quiz. Want to join?”

“Thanks, but I prefer studying alone,” I said, not looking up from my notes.

“Are you sure? We always study better together—”

“I’m sure.”

He lingered for a moment, clearly wanting to say more. But I kept my eyes on my textbook until he finally walked away.

Good. The less distraction, the better.

---

When I got home that evening, I found my parents in the kitchen, sharing a late dinner.

“Saff,” Mom said when she saw me. “How’s school?”

“Good,” I said, forcing a smile. “Really good.”

“Syempre, ikaw pa? Anak kaya kita.”

“Dad,” I said, pero I couldn’t help but smile a little. “Anak din ako ni Mom.”

“Sus, mukha lang kinuha mo sa Mama mo. Sa akin iyong iba.”

My parents began arguing—more like my Dad kasi usually tahimik lang naman si Mom kasi si Dad iyong makulit talaga. I knew I was tired because instead of joining the banter, naka-tingin lang ako sa kanila, hoping na sana matapos na ’to para maka-akyat na ako at makapagbasa ulit.

“You look exhausted, Saff,” Mom pointed out.

“Kakatapos lang ng midterms. Saka busy sa finals period. You know,” sabi ko with a small smile on my face.

“Alright,” she said. “But you’re handling it well?”

“Very well,” I lied. “Actually, I think I’m getting the hang of it na.”

“That’s my girl,” Dad beamed. “I knew you’d figure it out. You always do.”

They looked so relieved, so proud. I couldn’t bear to tell them the truth—that I was drowning, that I’d worked myself to exhaustion and still wasn’t good enough.

“How are you getting along with your classmates?” Mom asked casually. “Making any friends?”

I hesitated. Should I mention that I’d basically isolated myself from everyone? That I’d snapped at Sheena and was now too embarrassed to join any block gathering?

“Yeah, they’re nice. There’s this guy—” I paused. Naka-tingin na silang dalawa sa akin. I hesitated, but might as well malaman nila iyong pangalan ng tao na lumalampaso sa akin sa grades. “Milo Delgado, who’s really smart. He’s been getting high grades on exams.”

The moment I said the name, I noticed Dad’s fork pause midway to his mouth. His forehead creased slightly, like he was trying to remember something.

“Delgado?” he repeated slowly.

“Yeah. Milo Delgado. Why?”

Dad’s expression remained neutral, pero there was something in his eyes—a flicker of recognition? Or maybe I was just imagining it. I’d been so on edge lately, maybe I was seeing things that weren’t there.

“Just sounds familiar,” Dad said after a moment, his tone carefully light. “Common surname.”

“Right,” sinabi ko na lang. I stood up before they could ask more questions. “I think I’ll go to bed early tonight. Get some rest before next week.”

As I headed upstairs, I caught them exchanging one of those parent looks—the kind that said they knew I wasn’t telling them everything, pero they weren’t sure how to push without making things worse.

I felt guilty for lying to them, pero what choice did I have? They were already worried enough. The last thing they needed was to know that their daughter was failing at the one thing she was supposed to be good at.

And that strange look on Dad’s face when I mentioned Milo’s name… I was probably just overthinking it. He met a lot of people through his work. The name probably just sounded familiar.

---

That night, I lay in bed staring at my booklets, which I’d arranged on my nightstand like evidence of my inadequacy.

Good grades. Respectable grades. Grades that would make most parents proud.

But they weren’t the grades of someone who was supposed to be the smartest person in the room.

They were the grades of someone who was just… average among the smart people.

I thought about Milo’s scores. 91. 94. 92. How had he managed those numbers? I’d seen him in class—he was often tired, sometimes unprepared for recitations, occasionally nodding off during discussions.

But when it came to exams, he was brilliant.

Maybe that’s what real intelligence looked like. Not the grinding, desperate studying I’d been doing, but some natural ability that showed up when it mattered most.

Maybe he didn’t need to live in the library because he was just that smart.

I thought about what Sheena had said before our fight. That Milo had expressed concern about me. Why would someone who was effortlessly outperforming me be worried about my wellbeing?

Unless he could see how badly I was struggling. Unless it was obvious to everyone that I was falling apart.

The thought made me want to disappear.

But maybe it was better this way. Maybe isolating myself from the block was the right choice.

I needed to focus. I needed to figure out how to be better.

I turned over and pressed my face into my pillow, trying to block out the thoughts that were spiraling through my mind.

Tomorrow, I’d figure out what went wrong. Tomorrow, I’d analyze my mistakes and make a plan to improve.

Tomorrow, I’d find a way to be better.

But tonight, for the first time in my life, I had to face the possibility that maybe all my effort, all my advantages, all my preparation… maybe it just wasn’t enough.

Maybe I wasn’t as smart as I’d always thought I was.

And maybe Milo Delgado was everything I’d tried so hard to be, without even trying at all.

The thought terrified me more than failing ever could.

Because if I wasn’t the smartest person in the room, then who was I?

**

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Chapter 12

The week after midterm results felt like walking through quicksand.

Every day was harder than the last. I’d wake up at 5AM feeling like I hadn’t slept at all, drag myself to the library by 7, and study until my eyes burned. The material wasn’t getting easier—if anything, the professors were ramping up the difficulty as we began the finals season.

I’d successfully avoided most interactions with my blockmates after the fight with Sheena. During breaks, I’d find empty classrooms or corners where I could review my notes in peace. When people tried to include me in conversations, I’d give polite one-word answers until they gave up.

It was lonely, pero at least walang distractions.

Milo, on the other hand, seemed to be everywhere I looked lately. Not in an intrusive way, but I’d catch him glancing in my direction during classes. Sometimes when I’d look up from my notes, I’d find him watching me with that same concerned expression Sheena had mentioned.

I ignored it.

I didn’t need his pity or anyone else’s.

---

Friday afternoon, Constitutional Law class. Sir walked in carrying a stack of papers and wearing the expression that meant someone was about to have a very bad day.

“Pop quiz,” he announced, and the collective groan from the class was audible. “But first, let’s discuss the reading assignment. I hope everyone thoroughly reviewed Kilosbayan v. Morato and its implications.”

I had read it. Three times. I’d highlighted every important passage, cross-referenced it with related cases, and prepared notes on the constitutional issues involved. The standing requirements, the distinction between taxpayers’ suits and constitutional questions, the court’s analysis of the PCSO’s authority under R.A. No. 1169.

“Borromeo,” Professor Santos called out. Fuck. Nagreview naman ako, pero hindi ko pa rin maiwasan iyong kaba.

“Yes, Sir.”

“In the Kilosbayan case, the Court discusses the distinction between self-executing and non-self-executing constitutional provisions. Can you explain the Court’s specific reasoning in footnote regarding the temporal application when constitutional policies are invoked to challenge government contracts?”

I opened my mouth to respond, then stopped.

…footnote?

What the fuck?

I remembered the case, the holding about standing requirements, the discussion of constitutional policies versus actionable rights. But footnote? I tried to recall if there had been footnotes about temporal application. The main text dealt with standing and the PCSO’s authority, but specific footnotes about temporal application…

“Borromeo,” Sir called my name again. Rinig na rinig ko iyong pagka-inip sa boses niya. I was all too familiar with it—that he had a bad day. He probably lost a case or a client… at sa amin niya ibubunton iyong masamang mood niya. Only this time, ako iyong ma-swerteng napili.

“The Court held that constitutional policies provide guidelines for legislative action…” I fumbled, my mind frantically searching for the specific footnote. Around me, I could feel thirty pairs of eyes watching. Waiting.

“Are you familiar with footnote and its discussion of temporal application?” he asked. He normally just lets student finish reciting at tatawag siya ng iba kapag hindi naka-sagot. But for some reason, it felt like tonight, he was hell-bent on finding someone para ibunton lahat ng sama ng loob niya.

“Yes, Sir—” I replied, but he quickly cut me off. I did. I did read the case!

“Did you read the case thoroughly?”

The question hung in the air like an accusation. Of course I’d read it thoroughly. I’d read everything thoroughly. I’d sacrificed sleep, health, social life, everything for these readings.

“Yes, Sir. I read the case.”

“Then surely you remember that footnote specifically addresses how constitutional interpretation affects the retroactive application of policy guidelines when challenging contracts, which is crucial to understanding why the Court distinguished this case from previous standing doctrines.”

I felt heat rising in my cheeks. “I understand the standing requirements, Sir. The distinction between constitutional issues and contract law—”

“Delgado,” Professor Santos interrupted, cutting me off. “Footnote.”

He called Milo without even shuffling the cards.

What? He’s the ‘smart’ student now? Was he called to ‘save’ my recitation?

Milo stood up slowly. He threw me a look that made me want to wish that I wasn’t here at this very moment. I felt the shame, the embarrassment. I wanted to be gone.

“It discusses how when constitutional policies are invoked to challenge government actions, the Court must determine whether these policies have prospective or retroactive effect. The footnote specifically states that while constitutional provisions regarding state policies are generally given prospective application as guidelines, they cannot be used retroactively to invalidate contracts that were legal when executed unless there’s a specific constitutional violation.”

“Correct. And what does the footnote say about the relationship to standing requirements?”

“The footnote clarifies that when petitioners invoke constitutional policies rather than specific constitutional rights, the temporal application becomes relevant to standing because policies that only provide future guidelines cannot create present justiciable controversies for parties without direct injury.”

“That will do, Borromeo.”

I sat down heavily, my face burning with humiliation. I stared down at my notes, but the words were blurring together. How had I missed that footnote? I’d read the case three times. I’d highlighted everything important. But apparently, not everything.

Meanwhile, Milo was still standing, answering follow-up questions with the same calm competence that seemed to come so naturally to him. Even though he looked exhausted, even though I’d seen him struggling to stay awake during previous classes, here he was delivering perfect answers while I couldn’t even remember a footnote.

“That will be all, Delgado.”

Milo sat down, but I caught him looking in my direction. There was no smugness in his expression, no satisfaction at having shown me up. If anything, he looked… concerned?

I looked away quickly.

---

The rest of class passed in a haze of shame and self-recrimination. I took notes mechanically, but my mind was spiraling.

How could I have missed such an important footnote? I was supposed to be thorough. I was supposed to be prepared. That’s what I’d been telling myself as I sacrificed everything for my studies—that at least I was being thorough.

But apparently, even that wasn’t true.

When class ended, I packed up my things quickly, hoping to escape before anyone could comment on my performance. But as I stood up, the room suddenly tilted sideways.

I grabbed the edge of my desk to steady myself, but my hands were shaking. The sounds around me—chairs scraping, conversations, footsteps—became muffled and distant. My vision was getting spotty at the edges.

My heart was racing, pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Each breath felt insufficient, like I was trying to breathe through a straw. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating.

“Saff?” I heard someone say, but it sounded far away.

I tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. My chest was tight, constricting with each shallow gasp. Sweat was breaking out on my forehead despite the air conditioning.

This was it. I was having a heart attack. I was going to die in a Constitutional Law classroom because I couldn’t remember a footnote.

“Hey, are you okay?”

The voice was closer now, clearer. I looked up and saw Milo standing beside my desk, his brow furrowed with concern. His face seemed far away even though he was right there.

“I’m fine,” I managed to say, but even to my own ears, my voice sounded weak and shaky. Each word felt like it took enormous effort.

“You don’t look fine. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I said I’m fine.” I tried to stand up straighter, to project some semblance of control, but another wave of dizziness hit me. The room was spinning, and I had to grip the desk harder to keep from falling.

My hands were trembling so badly I couldn’t control them. Everything felt unreal, like I was watching this happen to someone else.

“When’s the last time you ate something? Or slept more than a few hours?”

The questions were too accurate, too close to truths I didn’t want to acknowledge. When was the last time I’d eaten? Yesterday? The day before? I couldn’t remember. Time had become a blur of coffee and energy bars and desperate studying.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Saffron—”

“Don’t.” I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, nearly losing my balance in the process. The simple movement made me dizzy again. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“Look, ni hindi ka maka-tayo,” he said as he tried to help. I quickly took a step back. “You look like you can’t even breathe properly.”

Was I? I tried to focus on my breathing, but each breath felt wrong, too fast, too shallow. Like I couldn’t get enough air no matter how quickly I breathed.

“I’m fine!” I snapped, louder than I intended. A few of our blockmates looked over at us curiously, their faces blurring at the edges of my vision.

Milo held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. You’re fine. But maybe you should sit down for a minute—”

“Maybe I should what? Take a break? Relax? Stop trying so hard?” The words were pouring out of me now, fueled by frustration and exhaustion and weeks of pent-up pressure. My heart was still racing, making everything feel urgent and panicked. “Maybe I should just accept that I’m not as smart as I thought I was? Maybe I should just give up and be satisfied with being mediocre?”

“Nobody said anything about being mediocre—”

“You don’t have to say it. It’s obvious.” I was aware that my voice was getting louder, that people were staring, but I couldn’t stop. The panic was making everything feel intense and overwhelming. “You answer every question perfectly while looking half-asleep. You get the highest exam scores without even trying. Meanwhile, I study every waking moment and can’t even remember a footnote—a fucking footnote!”

“That’s not—”

“Save it. I know what this is. I know you probably think it’s funny, watching the privileged princess struggle while you effortlessly outperform her.”

Milo’s expression hardened. “You think I find this funny?”

“Don’t you? Isn’t this exactly what you expected? The spoiled rich girl who doesn’t deserve to be here finally gets exposed?”

His lips were pressed into a thin line. “Didn’t know na kaya mo palang basahin ang nasa isip ko,” he said. Even when the world world seemed to be falling around me, I still heard the sarcasm in his voice.

And I hated that.

“Then what do you think?” I challenged him, swaying slightly on my feet. My vision was still spotty, and I felt like I might collapse at any moment.

He was quiet for a moment, studying my face. When he spoke, his voice was softer. “I think you’re going to make yourself sick if you keep this up.”

The unexpected gentleness in his tone nearly broke me. For a second, I wanted to collapse into the nearest chair and admit that he was right. That I was already sick, that I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days, that I was running on coffee and desperation and it wasn’t working.

That I felt like I was dying right now, like my heart was going to explode and I couldn’t breathe and everything was spinning.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t be vulnerable in front of him.

Not after everything.

“I don’t need your concern,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steady even though my hands were still shaking. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Fine.” His expression closed off, returning to that neutral mask I was so familiar with. “But for what it’s worth, not knowing one footnote doesn’t make you stupid. It makes you human.”

I wanted to argue with him, to point out that he’d known the footnote, that being human wasn’t good enough when you were competing with people like him. But I was so tired, so dizzy, so overwhelmed by the panic still coursing through my system that I couldn’t form the words.

Instead, I just walked away, leaving him standing there in the emptying classroom.

---

I made it to the parking lot before the full weight of what had just happened hit me.

I’d had a panic attack in front of Milo Delgado. I’d admitted that I was struggling, that I felt inferior to him, that I was questioning my own intelligence. I’d shown him exactly how weak I was.

The humiliation was crushing.

I stood in a corner for several minutes, trying to collect myself. My hands were still shaking, and I felt like I might throw up. The panic attack had passed, but I felt drained, exhausted, like I’d run a marathon.

The smart thing to do would be to go home, get some sleep, eat a proper meal, and try to reset.

But I couldn’t face going home. I couldn’t face my parents’ questions about how school was going, or Sage’s knowing looks when he saw my appearance—he’ll know once he sees me. I couldn’t face lying to them again about how well I was handling everything.

Hell, I couldn’t even show my driver how I was falling apart—I knew he’d report to my family.

I just… wanted to pretend that everything’s fine.

That law school’s fine.

That I am fine.

Kasi bakit naman hindi? Anak ako ni Iñigo Borromeo at Charisse Faith Viste.

Law school should be a piece of cake for me—instead, it wasn’t.

I needed to get away. I needed to go somewhere where nobody knew me, where I could stop being Saffron Borromeo the law student and just be… nobody.

I pulled out my phone and started searching for clubs in areas where I was unlikely to run into anyone I knew. Somewhere loud, crowded, anonymous. Somewhere I could get drunk enough to forget about the fucking footnotes and failed recitations and panic attacks and the look of concern in Milo’s eyes.

Just for one night, I wanted to stop thinking.

I found a place in Makati that looked perfect—divey enough that law students probably wouldn’t frequent it, but not so sketchy that I’d be in actual danger. I could take a Grab ride there, drink until I couldn’t remember my own name, and figure out how to pick up the pieces tomorrow.

It wasn’t a good plan. It probably wasn’t even a safe plan. But it was the only plan I had.

Tonight, I was going to be someone else. Someone who didn’t have to be perfect, who didn’t have to live up to impossible standards, who didn’t have to pretend that everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

Tonight, I was going to fall apart in a place where no one would expect me to put myself back together.

And maybe, just maybe, I’d figure out how to face Monday morning without dying of shame.

The responsible part of my brain was screaming that this was a terrible idea. But the responsible part of my brain was also the part that had gotten me into this mess.

So for once in my life, I was going to ignore it.

**

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Chapter 13

The bass was pounding through my chest, the strobe lights making everything feel like a fever dream. I’d been here for… two hours? Three? Time had become meaningless after the fourth shot of tequila.

This was exactly what I needed. The music was so loud I couldn’t think. The crowd was so thick I could disappear into it. Nobody here knew that I was Saffron Rose Borromeo, the law student who couldn’t remember a simple footnote. Nobody here expected me to be perfect.

For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t performing. I wasn’t the judge’s daughter or the brilliant student or the girl who was supposed to have it all figured out. I was just another anonymous face in the crowd, and it felt like freedom.

I was just another girl in a dress, dancing badly and drinking too much.

This was what normal people did when they were stressed, right? They went out, they drank, they let loose. They didn’t spend every waking moment buried in textbooks, sacrificing their health and sanity for grades that would never be good enough anyway.

Maybe Sheena had been right. Maybe I’d been too obsessed, too intense. Maybe this was what I needed—to remember what it felt like to be human instead of some academic machine grinding herself into dust.

The alcohol was washing away the tight knot of anxiety that had been living in my chest for weeks. For the first time since midterms, I wasn’t thinking about footnotes or jurisprudence or the disappointed look on my professors’ face. I wasn’t thinking about Milo’s midterm grades or my own crushing inadequacy.

I was just… existing. Moving to the music. Letting the tequila burn away all the pressure and expectations.

“Another round!” I shouted to the bartender, holding up my empty glass. The alcohol was doing its job—numbing the shame, drowning out the voice in my head that kept replaying Sir’s disappointed expression.

Maybe if I drank enough, I could forget about the panic attack. Maybe I could forget about standing in front of the entire class, fumbling for an answer that should have been simple. Maybe I could forget the humiliation of breaking down in front of Milo, of showing him just how weak I really was.

The guy beside me at the bar leaned closer. “Sama mo ako,” he slurred, his breath reeking of beer. “You look like you need company.”

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to move away, but my coordination was shot. Everything felt unsteady.

“Come on, don’t be shy.” His hand landed on my waist, pulling me closer.

“I said I’m fine.” I tried to push him away, but the alcohol made my movements clumsy and ineffective.

“Hindi ka naman iinom mag-isa kung okay ka lang, di ba?” Another guy had appeared on my other side. “Samahan ka namin.”

This was getting out of hand. I tried to step back, but they were crowding me against the bar. The music was too loud, the crowd too thick for anyone to notice what was happening.

“Let go,” I said, but my voice sounded weak even to my own ears.

“Relax. We’re just being friendly.”

I was about to panic again—my chest was starting to tighten, my breathing getting shallow—when I heard a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“She said let go.”

I turned, and through the haze of alcohol and flashing lights, I saw him.

Milo Delgado.

Standing there in the middle of a crowded Makati club, looking completely out of place in his simple polo shirt and jeans. His expression was… I couldn’t read it. Shock? Concern? Confusion?

What the hell was he doing here?

Did he follow me?

“Sino ka ba?” one of the guys asked, stepping closer to Milo. “Mind your own business.”

“She is my business,” Milo said, his voice carrying a warning that made the hair on my arms stand up. The guy took a step forward, obviously not getting the message.

“Says who? Girlfriend mo ba ’to?”

“None of your fucking business,” Milo replied, moving closer. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands were starting to clench into fists.

Fuck.

Mag-aaway ba sila?

I couldn’t even completely understand what was happening as my whole world seemed to be spinning.

The guy laughed and pushed Milo’s chest. “Akala mo sino ka—”

“Stop!” I quickly moved between them, my hands pressed against Milo’s chest. “Just stop.”

I could feel how tense he was, could see the anger in his dark eyes. But I also knew what a fight could mean for someone like him. BAR exams require certificate of no pending case. A criminal record—even just an arrest—could ruin everything.

“It’s not worth it,” I said quietly, looking up into his face. “Please.”

Something in my voice must have gotten through to him because I felt his muscles relax slightly under my hands.

“Tara na,” I said to him, grabbing Milo’s hand. “Let’s go.”

The guys who’d been bothering me seemed to realize the situation had shifted. They melted back into the crowd, probably looking for easier targets.

Milo let me pull him away from the bar, but once we were a few steps away, he stopped.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, my words slurring together. The sight of him was making everything worse. This was supposed to be my escape, my one night away from academic pressure and judgment, and here he was—the person who represented everything I was trying to forget.

“Your blockmates were worried,” he said. “They said you’ve been… off lately.”

“My blockmates?” I laughed bitterly. “Which blockmates? The ones I’ve been avoiding? The ones who think I’m obsessed and intense?”

“Sheena mentioned that you left school looking upset—”

“So what, you appointed yourself my bodyguard?” The alcohol was making me mean, making everything feel raw and confrontational. “Since when do you care what happens to me?”

“I don’t—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, they just asked me to check if you were okay.”

“They asked you? Why would they ask you?”

“Because I was the last person who talked to you before you left.”

Right. The panic attack. The humiliation. The way I’d broken down in front of him like some pathetic, weak—

“I’m fine!” I pushed past him, stumbling slightly. “You can report back to the block that the princess is perfectly fine.”

I tried to walk away, to lose myself back in the crowd, but Milo caught my arm.

“Hindi kita iiwan dito,” he said firmly. “You’re too drunk.”

“I’m fine!” I yanked my arm away, but lost my balance and nearly fell. Milo caught me, steadying me against his chest.

And that’s when it hit me.

The humiliation of the day came crashing back all at once. The failed recitation. The panic attack. The look on Sir’s face when I couldn’t answer. The way Milo had answered effortlessly while I sat there feeling stupid and exposed.

I am Saffron Rose Borromeo. I am supposed to be brilliant. I am supposed to excel at everything I touched. And instead, I was drunk in a club, being rescued by the person who’d outperformed me in every single way.

“Why are you here?” I asked again, but this time my voice broke. “Why do you care what happens to me?”

He was quiet for a moment, his hands still steadying me. Around us, the music pounded and people danced, oblivious to my breakdown.

“Because,” he said finally, “you looked like you were about to collapse earlier.”

The honesty in his voice was unexpected. I looked up at his face, trying to read his expression in the strobing lights. There was something there I’d never seen before—genuine concern. Not pity, not smugness, but something that looked almost like… caring?

But that couldn’t be right. This was Milo. He thought I was a spoiled princess who didn’t deserve to be in law school.

“You don’t understand,” I said, my voice getting louder as the emotion built up. “You don’t understand what it’s like to fail at the one thing you’re supposed to be good at.”

“Saffron—”

“No, you don’t!” I was shouting now, but the music was so loud no one else could hear. “You show up to class looking half-dead and still answer every question perfectly. You get the highest exam scores without even trying. You probably think it’s hilarious that the privileged princess is finally getting exposed as a fraud!”

“That’s not what I think at all.”

“Then what do you think?” The tears were starting now, hot and angry and unstoppable. “Tell me what you think about the girl who studies every waking moment and still can’t remember a footnote!”

Milo’s expression shifted, and for a moment, I saw something that looked almost like… surprise? Like he was seeing me—really seeing me—for the first time.

“I think,” he said carefully, “that you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Too hard on myself?” I laughed through the tears. “I had a panic attack in class today because I couldn’t answer one question. One question! About a footnote I should have known!”

“Everyone has bad days—”

“Not everyone is supposed to be perfect!” The words were pouring out now, all the pressure and fear and desperation I’d been carrying. “Not everyone has parents who are judges and lawyers. Not everyone has every advantage handed to them on a silver platter. When you fail, people say ‘oh well, he tried his best.’ When I fail, people say ‘what’s wrong with her? She has everything going for her.’”

I felt my chest tightening. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to walk away again, to escape this conversation and his penetrating gaze, but he caught my wrist.

“Saan ka pupunta?”

“Anywhere but here!” I tried to pull free, but he held firm. “I just want to disappear! I want to go somewhere where nobody expects anything from me!”

“You don’t need to do that,” he said quietly. “You just need to breathe.”

“Don’t tell me what I need!” I was crying harder now, the alcohol making everything feel more intense. “You don’t know anything about what I need!”

But even as I said it, I wasn’t trying as hard to get away. Part of me—the part that was exhausted and scared and so tired of carrying everything alone—wanted to stay right where I was.

“You’re right,” Milo said. “I don’t know what you need. But I know you shouldn’t be here alone, drinking yourself stupid where guys are trying to take advantage of you.”

I looked around and realized he was right. The crowd was thick, the music was deafening, and I was too drunk to properly defend myself. This wasn’t safe. This wasn’t smart.

But I was so tired of being smart.

“I just wanted one night,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “One night where I didn’t have to be perfect. Where I didn’t have to think about footnotes and cases and whether I’m smart enough to be there.”

“You are smart enough,” Milo said, and there was something in his voice that made me look up at him.

“Then why can’t I compete with you?” The question came out raw and desperate. “Why do you make everything look so easy when I’m killing myself just to keep up?”

He was quiet for a long moment, studying my face in the flashing lights. When he spoke, his voice was softer than I’d ever heard it.

“It’s not easy,” he said simply.

Before I could process what he meant, someone bumped into me from behind, sending me stumbling forward into Milo’s chest. The crowd was getting more packed, more aggressive, and I could feel myself getting overwhelmed again.

“I can’t… there’s too many people,” I gasped, the panic starting to rise again. “I can’t breathe.”

Without hesitation, Milo wrapped his arms around me, creating a protective barrier against the crowd. “It’s okay,” he said into my ear, his voice calm and steady. “I’ve got you.”

And something about the way he said it—so sure, so certain—made me believe him.

I let myself cry then. Really cry. All the stress and pressure and fear I’d been holding in for weeks came pouring out against his chest. The panic about failing, the terror that I wasn’t smart enough, the exhaustion from trying so hard and still not being good enough.

He didn’t try to stop me or tell me it would be okay. He just held me there in the middle of the dance floor, letting me fall apart while he kept the world at bay.

“I’m so tired,” I sobbed against his shirt. “I’m so tired of trying so hard and still not being enough.”

“You are enough,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the music. “But you’re killing yourself trying to prove it.”

“I don’t know how to stop.”

“Then don’t stop. Just… slow down.”

I pulled back to look at his face, trying to understand why he was being kind to me. Why he wasn’t taking advantage of seeing me at my lowest point. Why he wasn’t walking away like I’d told him to.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked through my tears.

He was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes searching mine. When he spoke, his voice was careful, measured.

“I told you—our blockmates asked me to follow you.”

I looked at him. Did he really expect me to believe that?

But I was too drunk to care—hell, this conversation might all be in my head…

“I don’t understand you,” I whispered.

“I don’t understand you either,” he admitted. “But right now, that doesn’t matter. What matters is getting you somewhere safe.”

I wanted to argue, to insist that I was fine, that I didn’t need saving. But the truth was, I did need saving. I needed someone to take care of me for once, instead of me having to take care of everything myself.

“Okay,” I said quietly, my voice almost lost in the music. “Okay.”

For the first time in weeks, I let someone else be in control.

And surprisingly, it felt like relief.

**

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Chapter 14

The cool morning air hit my face like a slap of reality as we stepped out of the club. The sudden quiet after hours of pounding bass made my ears ring, and I realized just how drunk I actually was. My legs felt unsteady, and I had to concentrate on each step to avoid stumbling.

“Careful,” Milo said, his hand hovering near my elbow without quite touching me.

The street was mostly empty except for a few other club-goers stumbling toward taxis and the occasional delivery truck rumbling past. The sky was that weird purple-gray color that meant dawn wasn’t far off.

“Shit,” I muttered, suddenly panicking. “What time is it?”

Milo checked his phone. “Almost 4AM.”

My lips parted.

Fuck.

“I can’t go home like this.” The thought of my parents seeing me stumbling drunk at 4AM made my stomach lurch. “They’ll… God, they’ll be so worried.”

Napa-tingin ako kay Milo. I was a bit surprised. Did he look… worried? But why? I thought he’d at least be happy that I’d get in trouble if I went home drunk.

“Do you want to get some coffee first? Sober up a bit?” he surprisingly offered.

I looked at him, surprised by the suggestion. “You don’t have to—”

“So, coffee,” he said decisively. Why… was that so hot?! Lasing ba talaga ako?! “May 24-hour na McDonald’s dito malapit. You should eat something, too.”

I wanted to ask kung bakit alam niya na may 24-hours na McDonald’s dito. Meron ba siyang party-life that I knew nothing about? I wanted to ask, but I knew na wala naman akong makukuha na sagot sa kanya. Also… the concern in his voice caught me off guard. This was the same person who barely acknowledged my existence in class, and here he was worrying about whether I’d eaten.

“Okay,” I said quietly.

---

Twenty minutes later, we were sitting across from each other in the fluorescent-bright interior of McDonald’s, the harsh lighting making everything feel surreal after the club’s darkness. Milo had ordered food for both of us without asking—a burger and fries for me, coffee for both. I nursed the large black coffee while picking at the fries, my stomach still queasy from all the alcohol.

“Eat,” Milo said, pushing the burger closer to me. “You’ll feel worse if you don’t.”

Once again, I wanted to ask. Bakit alam niya? Does he like to party, as well? If yes… bakit never kami nagkita before? At one point in my life, I lived in clubs.

“I’m not really hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten all day, have you?”

The question was so accurate it made me pause mid-sip. How did he know that?

“How do you—”

“You get cranky when you’re hungry.”

I looked at him. “How did you know that? You observe me?”

“May mata ako. And katabi kita.”

“Tss. You barely look at me in class.”

“And how do you know that? Naka-tingin ka sa kin lagi?” he asked smugly. Kapal talaga ng mukha. If there’s one constant thing in the world, yon ay ang kayabangan ni Milo Delgado.

Heat flooded my cheeks at being called out so directly. “I don’t—”

“You do.” His tone was matter-of-fact, pero may halong teasing. “And now you’re red as a tomato.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, taking a large gulp of coffee to hide my embarrassment.

There was something in his tone that made me study his face more carefully. In the harsh fluorescent light, I could see details I’d never noticed before. The way his eyes had flecks of brown in them. The moles on his face. The fact that he looked tired in a way that went deeper than just staying up late studying.

“This is so weird,” I said, my words still slightly slurred but getting clearer with each sip of coffee.

“Ano?”

“This. You being… nice.” I gestured vaguely between us. “Acting like you actually give a shit about whether I eat or not.”

Milo was quiet for a long moment, his fingers drumming against his coffee cup. “Maybe I’m just being a good person.”

“Really,” I deadpanned.

“Yeah. Ngayon ka lang ba nakakita ng mabuting tao?”

I made a face at him.

“So you’re like… a secret good guy? Pretending to be cold and distant but actually caring about everyone?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Then what would you call it?”

He shrugged. “Practical. You were falling apart. Someone needed to make sure you didn’t do something stupid. Besides, our blockmates asked me to follow you.”

“Our blockmates asked you to follow me?” I repeated, incredulous.

“Yeah. Sheena was worried. She said you left school looking upset, and they were afraid you might do something stupid.”

“So this whole thing—you coming to the club, protecting me, bringing me here—it’s all because Sheena asked you to?”

“Pretty much.”

The casual admission stung more than it should have. For a moment, I’d thought maybe he’d come because he actually cared about what happened to me. But it was just another assignment, another responsibility he’d been given.

“Great. So I’m just another chore on your to-do list.”

He didn’t say a word.

Tss.

So, talagang sinundan niya lang ako dahil sinabi ng block namin? If it were for him, wala siyang pakielam kung anuman ang mangyari sa ’kin?

“Would you rather I had left you alone with those guys who were hitting on you?” he asked. I was quiet for a while, trying to focus on finishing my coffee. “Like go home with those guys who were hitting on you. Or drink yourself into alcohol poisoning. Or walk into traffic because you’re too drunk to see straight.”

The matter-of-fact way he listed all the ways the night could have gone wrong made me realize how dangerous my plan really had been. I’d been so focused on escaping my problems that I hadn’t thought about the risks.

“You really were worried about me,” I teased.

“I was worried about what would happen if something bad happened to you and I didn’t do anything about it.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“How is it different?”

“Because one is about you, and the other is about me not wanting to feel guilty.”

I studied his face, trying to figure out if he really believed that or if it was just another wall he was putting up. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you’re lying. I think you do care, and you’re scared to admit it because caring about people is messy and complicated and you don’t like messy and complicated.”

Milo’s expression didn’t change, but I saw something flicker in his eyes. A hint of recognition, maybe. Or fear.

“You watch too many movies,” he said dismissively.

“Do I? Or am I right?”

“You’re still drunk.”

“I’m sobering up. And you’re avoiding the question.”

“What question? You didn’t ask me anything. You just made up some theory about my psychological state based on what, three conversations?”

“Fine. Let me ask you something else then.” I leaned forward slightly. “Why do you look so tired all the time? And don’t say it’s from studying, because I study way more than you do and I don’t look like I haven’t slept in weeks.”

Something shifted in his expression. A guardedness that hadn’t been there before.

“Maybe I don’t sleep well.”

“Why?”

“Insomnia. Stress. Take your pick.”

“Stress about what? School?”

“Among other things.”

“What other things?”

“You. You’re stressful.”

I wrinkled my nose as I made face at him.

“What? You think about me enough para ma-stress ka sa ’kin?” I asked with arched brow.

“Does it matter?” he replied, instead. “Kung saan man ako nase-stress?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m trying to understand you.”

“Why?”

The question caught me off guard. Why was I trying to understand him? What did it matter if Milo Delgado had insomnia or stress or whatever was making him look like he was carrying the weight of the world?

“Because,” I said slowly, “tonight you showed me that you’re not who I thought you were. And now I’m curious about who you actually are.”

“Maybe I’m exactly who you thought I was, and tonight was just an exception.”

“I don’t think so. I think tonight was more of the real you than anything else.”

We sat in silence for a moment. I could see him wrestling with something, like he was deciding how much to reveal.

“I have responsibilities,” he said finally. “Outside of school. Things I have to take care of.”

“What kind of responsibilities?” He just shrugged. “Tss. Ang secretive naman?”

“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”

“What? Your shrug?”

“Yes.”

“Why? What’s so secret about your life that you can’t even give me a straight answer?”

“It’s not secret. I’m just not in the mood for sharing.”

“You’re never in the mood for sharing.”

“Exactly.”

I frowned. “Everything’s complicated with you. That’s not a reason to shut people out.”

“I don’t shut people out. I just don’t let them in.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“How is it different?”

“Because shutting people out implies they were inside to begin with.”

The words hung between us, and I realized he was right. He’d never let anyone in. He’d built walls so high and so thick that no one could even get close enough to be shut out.

“That sounds lonely,” I said quietly.

“It’s practical.”

“Why?”

“Because people leave. People disappoint you. People use what they know about you against you.” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. “It’s easier to keep your distance.”

“Who hurt you?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Milo’s expression immediately closed off. “No one hurt me. I just learned early that it’s better to rely on yourself.”

“How early?”

Once again, he shrugged.

I wanted to strangle him.

I wanted to push, to ask more questions, but something in his tone warned me not to. Instead, I tried a different approach.

“Can I ask you something else?” I said finally.

“You’re going to ask anyway.”

“Why don’t you have any social media? No Facebook, no Instagram, no LinkedIn. I looked you up after that first day of class, and it’s like you don’t exist online.”

The change in Milo’s expression was immediate and dramatic. His face went completely blank, like a door slamming shut.

“Bakit?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral. “Gusto mo bang maging Facebook friends tayo?”

The mocking tone was back, but there was something else underneath it. Something that looked almost like panic.

“I was just curious—”

“Don’t be.” The sharpness in his voice made me flinch. “Some people prefer privacy.”

“It’s not about privacy. It’s about being invisible. Like you don’t want anyone to be able to find you or know anything about your life outside school.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“But why? What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” But his voice was too controlled, too careful. “I just don’t see the point in broadcasting my life online.”

“Everyone our age has some kind of online presence. Even my lolo has Facebook.”

“Well, I’m not your lolo.”

“Obviously. But—”

“Does it really matter? Hindi naman tayo magkaibigan outside law school.”

The casual way he dismissed the possibility of friendship stung more than it should have. But I could see that pushing the topic was only making him more defensive.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll drop it.”

“Thank you.”

Silence enveloped us. Hindi na ako nagtanong pa. Instead, I quietly finished the food that Milo got me. And it wasn’t as if he was too eager to talk to me, either. Tahimik lang siya na iniinom iyong kape niya.

“Thank you,” I said to break the deafening silence.

“For what?”

“For tonight. For making sure I was okay. For being honest with me, even when it was uncomfortable.”

“I wasn’t that honest.”

“Well, yeah, but you were more honest than you wanted to be.”

“Maybe.”

I looked at him across the table—this person who was so much more complicated than I’d ever imagined. Who carried burdens I couldn’t see and fought battles I didn’t understand. Who had walls built so high that even he couldn’t see over them anymore.

“I should probably head home,” I said finally. “My parents will be waking up soon.”

“Yeah. You look sober enough.”

“Thanks. For tonight. For making sure I got home safe.”

“It’s fine.”

He stood up, throwing his empty coffee cup in the trash. I followed suit, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the night catching up with me.

“I’ll book us a Grab,” Milo said, already pulling out his phone.

---

The ride to my house was quiet and awkward. We sat on opposite sides of the backseat, both staring out our respective windows. The easy conversation we’d managed in McDonald’s felt like it had happened to different people.

But every few minutes, I’d catch Milo glancing at me in the reflection of the window, like he was making sure I was okay. And every time our eyes met, he’d look away quickly.

When we pulled up to my house, I hesitated before getting out. The porch light was on, but the rest of the house was dark. My parents were probably still asleep, blissfully unaware that their daughter had just spent the night falling apart in a club.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“No problem.”

“Do you want to come in? For coffee or—”

“No.” The word came out too quickly, too sharp. “Kailangan ko ng umuwi.”

I felt heat rise in my cheeks at the immediate rejection. “Right. Of course,” I replied as I got out of the car. I couldn’t take a step towards the gate. Instead, lumingon ako at saka tumingin sa sasakyan. I knocked on the window. Binaba iyon ni Milo. “See you Monday,” I said through the open window.

He gave me a short nod. “Yeah. See you.”

As the car pulled away, I stood on my front porch for a moment, watching the taillights disappear around the corner. Everything felt different now, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on how or why.

Inside, the house was quiet and dark. I slipped off my shoes and crept upstairs, careful not to wake my family. In my room, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and winced. My makeup was smeared, my hair was a mess, and I looked exactly like someone who’d spent the night drinking in a club.

But my eyes looked different. Clearer, somehow. Like I’d seen something I hadn’t expected to see.

I took a shower. I changed into pajamas and stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to process everything that had happened. The club, the breakdown, Milo’s unexpected kindness, the strange conversation over coffee. It all felt surreal, like it had happened to someone else.

As I finally fell into bed, my head still pounding slightly from the alcohol, I found myself thinking about what Milo had said. About caring too much what he thought. About keeping people at arm’s length. About survival versus expectations.

Maybe he was right about me caring too much. But maybe I was right about him being too afraid to let anyone in.

The way he’d shut down when I asked about social media. The careful way he’d avoided giving real answers about his life. The walls he’d built so high that even kindness felt like a calculated risk to him.

And why was I so curious about him?

I rolled over, pulling my pillow over my head as if that could stop the questions spinning in my mind. But they kept coming anyway.

Who was Milo Delgado, really? What was he hiding behind all that careful neutrality? What had happened to make him so guarded, so convinced that letting people in was dangerous? And most importantly—why did I suddenly want so badly to be the person he let in?

The thought scared me more than I wanted to admit. Because wanting to get close to someone meant being vulnerable. It meant risking rejection, disappointment, hurt.

But as I finally drifted off to sleep, I realized I was already past caring about the risk.

I wanted to know him. The real him. Not the carefully constructed walls, not the academic competitor, not the mysterious classmate who deflected every question.

I wanted in.

**

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Chapter 15

5AM.

I stared at my phone’s glowing screen, willing myself to go back to sleep. My head was still pounding from the alcohol, and my body felt like it had been hit by a truck. But my internal alarm clock—the one programmed by weeks of rigid studying—was already screaming at me to get up.

‘Just five more minutes,’ I negotiated with myself. ‘You’re still recovering from… everything.’

But then I thought about all the readings I hadn’t done over the weekend. About the upcoming quiz in Constitutional Law. About how I’d already fallen behind academically, and how sleeping in would just make it worse.

The pressure won, as it always did.

I dragged myself out of bed and went through my morning routine like a zombie. Shower, coffee, check if all my reading materials are complete. The same schedule I’d maintained for weeks, even though every part of my body was begging for more rest.

My phone buzzed as I was getting dressed. A text from Sage. Agad na napa-kunot ang noo ko. Ni hindi pa sumisikat ang araw. Kaka-gising ko lang, but I was pretty sure na papa-tulog pa lang siya.

‘I saw you.’

My stomach dropped.

Of course! Sino ba ang gising pa nung umuwi ako?! Of course, my twin na may weird body clock!

‘Saw me what?’ I replied, trying to play it cool. What? Unless may paparazzi shot siya sa amin ni Milo, I’ll deny this until my death bed, noh!

‘Getting out of a car. Around 5AM. Guy was with you.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Must be the lack of sleep, you know?’

‘Who was he?’

‘Wala.’

‘Want me to check the CCTV’

Ugh!

‘Nobody.’

‘Nobody doesn’t drive you home at 5AM.’

‘It was just a friend from school.’

‘What friend? I thought you said you had no friends in law school.’

‘I have friends kaya.’

‘Really? How come I havent seen you post anyone?’

‘Busy kasi duh.’

‘Lol ok. So, sino nga siya?’

‘Wala nga.’

‘Aww one sided ba?’

‘Shut up.’

‘So sorry. Na-basted ka pala.’

‘Shut up.’

Sage wouldn’t stop annoying me that at one point, I was tempted to march towards his room at saka batuhin siya ng slippers ko para lang maka-ganti ako.

‘You don’t have to worry about him anyway,’ I typed. ‘He doesn’t even like me.’

‘Then why did he drive you home? Gusto niya lang magpaka-Grab driver?’

I didn’t have an answer for that.

But also, good question!

---

By the time I arrived at school at 8AM—a full hour later than my usual 7AM arrival—I was already regretting my decision. My usual spot in the library was taken, occupied by some other student who probably didn’t even need to be there that early. Ako ang may kailangan nito dahil sa disastrous academic performance ko lately.

“Great,” I muttered, settling for a table near the loud air conditioning unit. This was what happened when you broke routine. Everything fell apart.

I opened my Constitutional Law textbook and tried to focus on the assigned cases again, pero my mind kept drifting back to that night. To Milo’s face in the harsh McDonald’s lighting. To the way he’d looked at me when I’d asked him to come inside. To the way he’d so quickly dismissed any possibility of friendship.

Hindi naman tayo magkaibigan outside law school.

The words still stung.

Whatever.

As if naman kailangan ko siya! I have a lot of friends kaya! Sabi nga nila mas mana pa ako kay Tita Katherine kasi super friendly ko!

The day crawled by slowly. I spent hours in the library, but I could barely concentrate. Every time someone walked past, I looked up hoping it might be Milo. Which was stupid, because he probably didn’t even use the library during the day.

When 5:30 PM rolled around, I made my way to the classroom with a knot in my stomach. I wasn’t sure if I was nervous about seeing Milo or about the quiz Sir would probably spring on us.

Or… the fact that maybe my blockmates hate me?

Fuck.

I felt nauseous all of a sudden.

Imbes na dumiretso ako sa classroom, pumunta muna ako sa may dulo ng hallway. I stood there, trying to catch my breath. I just kept on trying to even my breathing, but it was hard.

What if they really did hate me? What if my outburst last week had completely ruined any chance I had of making friends here?

Growing up, people had always liked me. I was the smart one, the achiever, the daughter of respected lawyers. Teachers favored me, classmates wanted to be my friend, and I’d never had to worry about fitting in.

But law school was different. Law school was bringing out the worst in me—the competitive, insecure, desperate parts of myself I’d never had to confront before. I’d called Sheena average. I’d basically told my entire block that they had lower standards than me.

Who does that? Who says those things to people who are supposed to be their friends?

The old me would never have been so cruel. The old me was confident without being arrogant, competitive without being mean. But this version of myself—the one who was barely keeping up academically, who was falling apart in front of people, who was lashing out when things got difficult—I didn’t recognize her.

And I didn’t like her.

I took another shaky breath and forced myself to walk toward the classroom. I could do this. I could face my blockmates, pretend everything was normal, and get through another day.

When I walked into the classroom, my eyes immediately found Milo first—a habit I couldn’t seem to break. He was sitting in his usual seat, looking perfectly composed despite what had happened between us. When our eyes met for a split second, I felt my stomach do this weird flip thing.

I looked away immediately.

Then I scanned the rest of the room. Sheena was sitting with James and a few other blockmates, but when she saw me, she didn’t wave or smile like she used to. Instead, she just looked away and continued her conversation.

The knot in my stomach tightened.

I took my seat, hyperaware of the silence that seemed to follow me. Maybe I was being paranoid, but it felt like people were deliberately not looking at me. Like they were pretending I didn’t exist.

Was this what Milo felt like all the time? This sense of being on the outside, watching everyone else interact while you remained invisible?

Sir walked in exactly at 6PM, as always. No greetings, no pleasantries. Just straight to business.

“Quiz,” he announced, setting down his bag. “Discuss the case of Neri v Senate Commitee . Submit when you’re done.”

I tried to focus on the quiz, but my mind kept wandering. Every time someone shifted in their seat or whispered to a classmate, I wondered if they were talking about me. About my outburst. About how I’d shown my true colors.

The quiz was straightforward enough—I’d studied the case thoroughly—but I kept second-guessing myself. What if kulang iyong discussion ko? What if I’d misunderstood the Court’s reasoning?

I finished with three minutes to spare, which never happened. Usually I used every second of the time allotted, double and triple-checking my answers. But I wanted to review my work, to make sure I hadn’t made any careless mistakes.

But then I felt it—eyes on me. Multiple pairs of eyes, watching me, judging me. Were they wondering why I was done so early? Were they thinking I’d given up?

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up, handed in my paper, and left the classroom without looking back.

---

I found myself walking aimlessly around campus, trying to shake off the anxiety that had been building all day. The night air was warm and humid, typical for Manila, but it felt suffocating—very suffocating.

I ended up near the smoking area, but I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going. I was too busy replaying the day’s interactions—or lack thereof—in my head.

“You okay?”

I jumped at the familiar voice. Milo was standing a few feet away, cigarette in hand, studying my face with those unreadable dark eyes.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically.

“Ah.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “So when you’re lying it’s okay, but if it’s me, you call me out?”

The comment caught me off guard. “I’m not lying.”

“You’re definitely lying. You look like you’re about to throw up.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. He was right. I did feel like I was about to throw up.

“It’s just my face,” sabi ko na lang.

“Ah. Good to know.”

I looked at Milo. He’s in a good mood—which was unusual. And I was in a bad mood—which was usual nowadays.

“It’s just…” I sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I think our blockmates hate me.”

“They probably do.”

I felt a pit in my stomach. “Thanks. That’s very comforting.”

“You asked.”

“I didn’t actually ask. I was just expressing my anxiety.”

“Well, your anxiety is probably justified. I heard what you said to Sheena last week. You were a bitch that day.”

I gasped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You called her average and told everyone they had lower standards than you. Ano sa tingin mo ang mangyayari?”

The blunt assessment stung because it was true. I had been a bitch. I’d said terrible things that I couldn’t take back.

“I know,” I said quietly. “I know I was wrong. But it’s so awkward now. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“If you’re so worried, then just apologize.”

“But it’s so awkward.”

“Then don’t apologize and deal with the awkwardness.”

“But I want to make friends, too.”

“Then make friends.”

“It’s not something you force. My parents met their lifelong friends in law school. And me? I made enemies in law school.”

Milo was quiet for a moment, studying my face in the dim light. “Is that what you think I am? Your enemy?”

Napa-tingin ako sa kanya na naka-kunot ang noo. “Are you being serious?”

“What?”

“Sinabi mo sa ’kin before na ’di tayo friends.”

He shrugged.

My god, I wanted to strangle him whenever he’d shrug!

“Well, you look miserable—I’ll be your friend and consider this as my act of charity for the year.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

I bit my lower lip because I wanted to fight the smile that was forming on my face. I couldn’t believe that I was finding his sarcasm endearing now. I used to hate it and made me want to smack his arrogant face.

I waited for him to take it back, to clarify that he didn’t mean it. But he just stood there, smoking his cigarette like he hadn’t just completely contradicted everything he’d said before.

“Friend?” I repeated carefully. Baka lang kasi sa sobrang stressed ko, kung anu-ano na talaga ang naririnig ko.

“Don’t make it weird,” he said as he blew his smoke again. I knew I would never smoke, but damn, he really made smoking look so sexy.

“I’m not making it weird. You’re the one who said we wouldn’t be friends outside law school.”

“We’re still in law school,” he said. Tsk. So friends lang kami kapag nasa law school? Like literally?

“Technically.”

“Technically counts.”

I felt something warm unfurl in my chest. It was such a small thing—him calling me his friend—but it felt huge. Like maybe that night had meant something after all.

“You know,” I said habang sinasandal ko iyong likod ko sa pader, “for someone who claims not to care about people, you’re surprisingly good at making them feel better.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m trying to smoke in peace.”

But there was no bite in his words. If anything, he sounded almost… fond?

Milo also rested his back against the wall. We were a few inches apart from each other. I could smell his cologne mixed with the smell of cigarette. Was it bad that I was already getting used to this smell?

“I’ve been thinking about what you said that night,” I continued. “About pressure and expectations.”

“And?”

“And I think you were right. I do have advantages that make failure less scary for me. But I also think… I think I’m not handling the pressure well. I used to be good at everything, and now I’m just… mediocre. And I don’t know how to be mediocre.”

“Nobody knows how to be mediocre. That’s why it sucks.”

“Do you ever feel mediocre?”

“Every day.”

“But you get the highest grades.”

“On exams. There’s more to law school than exams.”

I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but something in his tone warned me not to push.

“I just… I hate that I said those things to Sheena. I hate that I’m becoming this person who lashes out when things don’t go my way. That’s not who I used to be.”

“Maybe it’s who you always were, and you just never had to show it before.”

The observation stung. “You think I’m naturally mean?”

“I think you’re naturally competitive. And when competitive people feel threatened, they sometimes say mean things.”

“Is that what you do? Say mean things when you feel threatened?”

“I don’t say anything when I feel threatened. I disappear.”

“Like you did after that night?”

“Like I’m doing right now by talking to you instead of going home.”

I looked at him, trying to read his expression in the dim light. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Because you looked like you were having a panic attack earlier. In the hallway.”

“You saw that?”

“I see a lot of things.”

“But you don’t usually do anything about them.”

“No. I don’t.”

“So why tonight?”

He was quiet for a long moment, finishing his cigarette and immediately lighting another one.

“You look like you needed a friend,” he said finally.

I stared at him, something shifting in my chest. For the first time since I’d met him, I wasn’t seeing the cold, distant classmate or the mysterious guy who deflected every question. I was seeing someone who noticed when people were hurting and cared enough to do something about it.

“What?” he asked when he noticed me staring.

I shook my head. “Wala.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a while. For the first time all day, I felt like I could actually breathe properly.

“You should apologize to them,” Milo said eventually.

“I know.”

“It’s going to be awkward.”

“I know.”

“They might not forgive you right away.”

“I know.”

“But it’s better than sitting here feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

“You definitely are.”

“Fine. Maybe a little.” I paused. “Will you… will you still talk to me? Even if they don’t forgive me?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Well, can you promise me that you won’t piss me off?”

My lips parted. “Ako pa?!”

He nodded as the cigarette was still in his mouth.

“Wow,” I said kasi wow talaga!

I was about to say something when my phone buzzed with a text. I glanced at it and saw a message from my driver, ‘Nasaan ka po? Dito na po ako sa parking.’

I stared at the message for a moment, then put my phone away without responding.

“Kumain ka na ba?” I asked out of the blue.

Milo looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Why?”

“Just curious. Bawal na ba magtanong?” I asked. He was still looking at me like I grew two heads. “I know this place. Do you eat pares?”

The look he gave me was one of complete surprise, like I’d just asked him if he knew how to breathe underwater.

“What?” I said defensively.

“Nothing. You just don’t look like someone na kumakain ng pares.”

“Wow. I’ve been judged.”

“I’m not judging. I’m stating a fact.”

“Why? Because you think I’m a rich, spoiled princess? And rich people can’t eat pares?”

“Rich people usually eat pares ironically. Like, ‘Oh look at me, I’m so relatable, I eat street food too.’ “

I pursed my lips to stop myself from laughing because I know some people na kagaya ng ginagaya niya. Tsk! Also, bukod sa type ko si Milo physically, bakit biglang benta na rin sa akin iyong humor niya—albeit very offensive most of the time!

I made a face at him. “You’re so mean.”

“Takes one to know one,” he quickly replied.

I rolled my eyes at him. “For your information, I actually love pares. My parents used to take us to this place when we were kids. Best pares in Metro Manila, hands down.”

My phone buzzed again at mabilis na napa-tingin ako doon. Another message from my driver, ‘Saff, maghihintay pa po ba ako?’

I glanced at it and put the phone away again.

“You should go,” Milo said, noticing my phone.

“Oh, no,” sabi ko. “It’s just my driver. He’s just telling me he’s stuck in traffic. You know, Metro Manila.”

Milo just nodded his head. I quickly asked my question again bago ako ma-distract sa kung gaano ka-red iyong lips niya despite him being a… chain smoker? Because seriously, araw-araw ata siya nandito! For sure may cigarette budget siya.

“So,” I said, “pares. Yes or no?”

My phone buzzed for the third time. This time it was my driver calling. I declined the call and put the phone on silent.

“Saffron.”

“What?”

“Answer your phone. Go home,” he said, his voice more demanding this time.

“Wala pa nga ’yung driver,” I lied.

Instead of answering, Milo just continued to quietly smoke.

I continued to quietly stand beside him.

“Our blockmates don’t hate you,” he said, breaking the silence. Napa-tingin ako sa kanya. I was convinced na tahimik lang siya hanggang sa maubos iyong panibagong stick niya ng cigarette.

“How do you know?”

“Because hate requires emotional investment. They’re just disappointed.”

“That’s somehow worse.”

“Disappointment fades. Hate doesn’t.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Always.”

I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but something in his expression warned me not to push.

“So,” I said again, “pares?”

“I already ate.”

My face fell before I could stop it. Of course he’d already eaten. Of course he had plans. Of course this moment had to end.

“But,” he continued, and I looked up hopefully, “next time, let’s have that pares.”

This story is already at Chapter 26 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 16

Tuesday morning came with a knot of anxiety sitting heavy in my stomach. I’d barely slept, tossing and turning while Milo’s words from last night played on repeat in my head.

You should apologize to them.

Easy for him to say.

Alam ko naman na kailangan kong magsorry but apologizing also meant facing head on the nasty things I said to them… and it’s hard. It’s hard to confront the person I never thought I could be.

I spent an extra twenty minutes getting ready, choosing my outfit carefully—not too formal (trying too hard), not too casual (not taking it seriously enough). Finally settled on a simple blouse and trousers. Understated. Apologetic.

By the time I got to school, I’d mentally rehearsed my apology about fifteen times. Different versions, different approaches. Should I be humble? Straightforward? Emotional?

Hi Sheena, I’m really sorry about what I said last week. I was out of line and—

No, too robotic.

Sheena, I know I hurt you and I feel terrible about—

Too dramatic.

Look, I was being a bitch and I’m sorry—

Definitely not.

I found myself pacing at the end of the hallway, near the auditorium, muttering under my breath as I practiced different versions. I forced myself to study earlier because otherwise, iisipin ko lang ’tong apology ko… but now, the time has come. Malapit ng magsimula iyong klase. I needed to face this.

“Okay, so… Sheena, I owe you an apology. What I said was completely—” I stopped, shaking my head. “No, that’s still wrong. Maybe I should start with—”

“Wow, you really need to rehearse an apology?”

I spun around to find Milo standing a few feet away, cigarette pack in hand, watching me with obvious amusement.

Heat flooded my cheeks. “I wasn’t rehearsing anything.”

“You were definitely rehearsing. I heard you say ‘Sheena’ like three times.”

“I was just thinking out loud.”

“About apologies. To Sheena. While pacing and gesturing.” He was still holding his cigarette pack like it was some emotional support box. “Very subtle.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny. I mean, most people just say ‘sorry’ and call it a day.”

“Yeah, well, I’m perfect, never kaya ako nagkakamali. So I don’t know the proper protocol for this.”

Milo actually smiled at that—a real smile, not his usual smirk. “Right. Forgot you don’t make mistakes.”

“Exactly. This is uncharted territory for me.”

“Poor privileged princess, having to learn how to apologize like the rest of us mortals.”

“You’re never going to let me live down the privileged thing, are you?”

“Probably not.”

We stood there for a moment, the warm air beginning to cool as the night finally set in. I was surprised at how comfortable this felt—the teasing, the easy conversation. Like we really were friends.

“So what’s your grand apology plan?” Milo asked, now playing with his cigarette pack and tossing it in the air.

“I don’t know. Just… tell her I was wrong. That I was being defensive and took it out on her. That I don’t expect forgiveness pero I want to try to make it right.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“You think?”

“I think overthinking it will make it worse.”

“Right. Just… wing it.”

“Just be honest. You were being a bitch. Own it and move on.”

The bluntness made me wince, but he wasn’t wrong. “Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

“Anytime.”

I was about to respond when I saw Sir walking down the hallway toward our classroom, checking his watch.

“Shit, class is starting,” I said, quickly gathering my things.

“Tara na,” Milo said, putting his cigarette pack inside his bag.

We walked toward the classroom together, and I tried not to read too much into it. He was just going to the same place I was. Duh. Blockmates kami. It didn’t mean anything.

But when we entered the room together, I noticed several heads turn our way. Sheena, James, and a few other blockmates all looked at us with curious expressions.

I glanced at Milo, but he looked completely unbothered. Nonchalant, as always. He went to his usual seat without acknowledging the stares or the fact that we’d walked in together.

Once again, it was only me who was making this into something bigger than it was. He probably didn’t even realize people were looking.

Why was he so… unaffected by everything?

And why was I so affected by everything?

---

Sir launched into the recits immediately, diving into the complexities of constitutional interpretation without preamble. I tried to focus, taking notes and highlighting important points, but my mind kept drifting to the unfinished business with my blockmates.

“Valdez,” Professor Santos called out suddenly, and I looked up to see him pointing at Rica, one of the quieter students in our block. “What is the Court’s position on the doctrine of constitutional supremacy as discussed in Javellana v Executive Secretary ?”

Rica stood up, clearly nervous. “Sir, the Court held that the Constitution is supreme over all other laws…”

As she struggled through her answer, I felt a familiar spike of anxiety. Any moment now, Sir would move on to the next person. Any moment now, he might call my name.

“Fernandez, can you elaborate on the hierarchy of laws principle?”

James stood up and delivered a solid answer about how the Constitution sits at the top of the legal hierarchy, followed by statutes, then administrative regulations.

“That will do. Santos?”

Another classmate, another question about constitutional interpretation.

I sat there, pen poised, waiting for my name to be called. But it never came.

The entire recitation period passed without Sir even looking in my direction. For the first time this semester, I wasn’t called on. Not once.

I should have felt relieved. Instead, I felt… strange. Like I’d been forgotten. Which was ridiculous—getting through a class without being grilled should have been a blessing.

But it left me wondering—had my academic reputation already been damaged? Was Sir avoiding calling on me because he’d heard about my struggle with the Kilosbayan footnote? Or was I just being paranoid?

The classcards were shuffled—it wasn’t as if I was purposely excluded.

I knew I was just being paranoid.

Still, I couldn’t get rid of this gnawing feeling inside me.

---

When class ended, I packed my things slowly, listening to the familiar sound of my blockmates gathering their belongings and chatting about the day’s discussion.

“That hierarchy of laws question was brutal,” James was saying to Sheena and a few others. “Good thing he didn’t ask about the specific provisions.”

“I know, right? Kinabahan ako. Constitutional supremacy pa naman bala ko,” Rica replied, still looking shaken from her earlier performance.

“We should probably do case digests for the next few cases,” Sheena suggested. “Dinner then discuss?”

There was a chorus of agreement, and I felt a familiar pang. Before my outburst, I would have been automatically included in these study sessions. They always asked me before—asked me to join their study sessions, participate in the digest pools…

Now, I was standing a few feet away, clearly within earshot, and no one was looking at me.

I pretended to be busy organizing my notes, but I could hear them making plans. Dividing up cases, scheduling a time to meet, discussing which coffee shop had the best wifi for their study session.

“So, we’re good na don?” James was confirming.

“Yes. I think we’ll go ahead na para makapagsave ng tables. I’ll chat sa GC kapag ok na,” Sheena said.

The group chat that I was presumably no longer part of—or a new group chat that I knew nothing about.

I slung my bag over my shoulder, preparing to leave before the rejection became even more obvious. I was almost out of my seat when I heard an unexpected voice.

“Saffron, sabay na ko sa ’yo papunta don?”

I froze. Milo was standing near his desk, looking directly at our group with that neutral expression he always wore.

The conversation stopped abruptly. Everyone turned to look at him, then at me, then back at him.

The silence stretched uncomfortably.

Sheena looked genuinely surprised.

It was obvious that Milo was trying to include me in the block plan.

I felt my face burn with embarrassment. This was worse than being ignored. Now everyone was staring at me while trying to figure out how to politely exclude me from their study group.

“Uh… hindi ako makaka-sama,” I said quickly, trying to keep my voice steady. “I have… other plans. Thanks though.”

I practically fled the classroom, my cheeks burning with humiliation.

---

I found myself walking toward Milo’s smoking spot without really thinking about it. My feet just carried me there, seeking the one place on campus where I felt like I could breathe.

When I arrived, the area was empty. I sat down on the bench and tried to process what had just happened.

Milo had tried to include me. He’d been the one to speak up, to suggest I join their study group. Not Sheena, not James, not any of the people I’d been friends with before I ruined everything.

Milo.

Why would he do that? Especially when he knew how awkward it would make things?

“Wow, nauna ka na dito ngayon.”

I looked up to see Milo approaching, cigarette already lit. He sat down on the opposite end of the bench, como siempre.

“Hi,” I said quietly.

“So,” he said, taking a drag. “That was awkward.”

“Which part? My complete social rejection or you trying to rescue me from it?”

“Both.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Thanks for trying, I guess. Even though it made everything ten times more uncomfortable.”

“Why did you say no?”

“Because it was pity inclusion. You saw they didn’t want me there.”

“So? You still could have gone.”

“And sat there while everyone pretended I wasn’t the person who insulted them last week? No thanks.”

Milo shrugged. “Your choice.”

“Don’t you think it would have been weird?”

“Everything’s weird. Doesn’t mean you should hide from it.”

I studied his profile as he smoked. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you looked pathetic standing there pretending not to care.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You asked.”

“I thought maybe you were being nice.”

“I was being practical. You need to study with them if you want to fix things. Hard to do that if you keep avoiding them.”

He had a point, but it still stung. “I wasn’t avoiding them. I was being considerate. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“Yes. Avoiding is cowardly. Being considerate is… thoughtful.”

“Sounds like the same thing with better PR.”

I made a frustrated noise. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re proud.”

“I’m not proud.”

“You’re definitely proud. Your pride is as high as the Great Wall of China.”

The comparison was so ridiculous I almost laughed. “The Great Wall of China?”

“Too much? I could go with a smaller wall. Maybe… the wall around Intramuros.”

“You’re making fun of me,” I said, frowning.

“Was I being too subtle?”

We sat in silence for a while. The familiar smell of cigarette smoke was becoming oddly comforting. A few weeks ago, it would have bothered me. Now it just smelled like… Milo.

“I can relate though,” he said eventually.

“To what?”

“The pride thing. I get it.”

“Really?”

“Really. Sometimes it’s easier to be alone than to risk looking weak in front of people.”

“Is that why you don’t have friends?”

“Partly.”

“What’s the other part?”

“People are complicated. Friendship is complicated. It’s easier to avoid the whole thing.”

“But you’re friends with me.”

“Am I?”

The question caught me off guard. “You said… yesterday you said I was your first friend in law school!”

“I did say that.”

“So?”

“So nothing. I just said it.”

“But did you mean it?”

Milo finished his cigarette and immediately lit another one. “What do you think friendship means?”

“I don’t know. Talking to each other? Spending time together? Caring about what happens to the other person?”

“Then yeah, I guess we’re friends.”

It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, but it was something.

“You’re a weird friend,” I said.

“How so?”

“Most friends don’t act like admitting friendship is pulling teeth.”

“Most friends don’t psychoanalyze each other every conversation.”

“I don’t psychoanalyze—”

“You definitely psychoanalyze.”

“Fine. Maybe a little.”

“A lot.”

“Whatever.” I paused. “So we’re really friends?”

“Apparently.”

“Good. Because I think you’re my first real friend in law school, too.”

Milo threw me a look. He blew out a smoke. Ugh. I’m sick in the head. Why did I find that incredibly hot? “What about our blockmates?”

“They are… colleagues, I guess. People I was friendly with. But not real friends. Not like…” I trailed off, realizing I didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

“Not like what?”

“I don’t know. This feels different.”

“How?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. Like… with them, I was always performing. Being the version of myself I thought they wanted to see. With you, I’m just… me. Even the messy, anxious, competitive parts,” I said. “I mean, you already judged me, anyways,” mabilis na pagdugtong ko. “So, whatever.”

“Lucky me,” he said with that tone that used to annoy me, but now, for some reasons known to me, I was always looking forward to hearing.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “Lucky you.”

Milo glanced at me, and for a moment, our eyes met. There was something in his expression I couldn’t quite read. Something that made my stomach do that weird flipping thing again.

“So, are we really friends?” I asked again.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Why do you sound so unsure?” I asked, frowning.

“Because you’re making it weird.”

“I am not!”

“You are. Ilang confirmation ba ang kailangan mo?”

“Tss. Paiba-iba kasi ang mood mo. How would I know na friends pa rin tayo bukas?”

“What? You want to draft a contract now para sigurado ka na friends talaga tayo?”

I paused, considering it. “You know what? Knowing your personality, that would be a great idea.”

“Tss.”

“What? I’m serious! Friendship contract. With terms and conditions.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Article 1: As friends, we should text each other at least once a day. Para hindi ma-awkward.”

“That’s demanding.”

“Article 2: We should eat together at least once a week. ’Yong pares na sinabi ko.”

“Why is being your friend so demanding? Parang may job description na.”

“Article 3: No ignoring each other in class. Friends acknowledge friends.”

“You’re describing a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, not friendship.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “I am not!”

“Daily texts? Weekly dates? Public acknowledgment?”

“It’s not dates! It’s… friendly meals.”

“Friendly meals,” he said in a mocking tone

“Yes. There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?”

“In friendly meals, walang romantic intentions.”

“And in dates?”

“There are romantic intentions.”

“So when we eat pares, walang romantic intentions?”

“Duh!” I said, pero my voice came out higher than usual. “We’re just friends!”

“Just friends,” he said, this time obviously making fun of me.

“Exactly.”

We sat in awkward silence for a moment, both of us suddenly very interested in not looking at each other.

“Speaking of Article 1,” I said, trying to change the subject back to safer ground, “I’ll need your number. For the daily texts. As friends.”

“As friends,” he repeated.

“Yes. Purely platonic communication.”

“Platonic.”

“Very platonic.”

“Fine,” he said, handing me his phone so I could add my number to his contacts.

My fingers brushed against his as I took the phone, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. Good thing it was getting dark—he couldn’t see me blushing over something as simple as exchanging numbers.

Which was ridiculous. We were just friends. Friends exchanged numbers all the time. There was nothing blush-worthy about typing digits into a phone.

So why was my heart beating faster?

“There,” I said, handing his phone back and hoping my voice sounded normal. “Now we can properly execute our friendship contract.”

“Right. The contract.”

“Don’t sound so unenthusiastic. This is a binding agreement.”

“Is it legally enforceable?”

“Absolutely. I’m going to be a lawyer, remember?”

“We’re both going to be lawyers. I could probably find loopholes.”

“Try me.”

But I said it with a smile, and he almost smiled back.

“But,” I said quietly, “thank you. For being my first friend in law school.”

Milo just nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“And for trying to include me earlier. Sa study group. Even though it was awkward.”

“Don’t expect me to do it again.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Another silence.

“So tomorrow?” I asked. “Same time?”

“Sure.”

“And we’re still friends?”

“Saffron.”

“What?”

“Stop asking. Yes, we’re still friends. Yes, we’ll have that pares. Yes, I’ll text you if you want. But stop making it weird.”

“I’m not making it weird!”

“You’re definitely making it weird.”

But he was almost smiling when he said it, and I realized that maybe making it weird wasn’t such a bad thing. Because weird was better than nothing. Weird was better than being ignored.

Weird was… kind of nice, actually.

“Fine,” I said, standing up and grabbing my bag. “I’ll stop making it weird.”

“Thank you.”

“For now.”

“Saffron.”

“What? I can’t promise I won’t make it weird forever. I’m naturally weird.”

“I’ve noticed.”

As I walked away, I heard him call out, “See you tomorrow, weirdo.”

And despite everything—the awkward study group situation, the confusion about friendship contracts, the embarrassment about accidentally describing a relationship instead of friendship—I found myself smiling.

Because tomorrow, I’d have someone to talk to.

Someone who called me weird but still wanted to see me again.

Someone who was apparently my first real friend in law school, even if neither of us quite knew what that meant yet.

And someone whose number was now saved in my phone, which shouldn’t have been as exciting as it was.

But somehow, it definitely was.

This story is already at Chapter 27 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 17

I woke up Wednesday morning and immediately reached for my phone. The first thing I saw was Milo’s contact name in my messages, and I felt this weird flutter in my stomach. Tss. Nilagay niya lang naman na Milo Delgado. It’s his name naman.

He’s right—I was being weird.

Also, we’d exchanged numbers yesterday. We had a “friendship contract” that included daily texting. Article 1, specifically.

So why was I staring at my phone like it was some kind of explosive device?

‘Just text him,’ I told myself. ’ It’s just a friendly text. Normal friends text each other good morning all the time.’

Did they though? I tried to think of my friends from college. We mostly used group chats, and even then, no one really said “good morning” unless there was an actual reason.

But this was different.

This was part of our contract.

After about ten minutes of overthinking, I finally typed the most basic message possible:

‘Good morning.’

I hit send before I could second-guess myself, then immediately wanted to throw my phone across the room.

Good morning? Really? That was the best I could do?

My phone buzzed almost immediately.

‘?’

Just a question mark. Of course. Trust Milo to respond to a perfectly normal greeting with confusion.

’What do you mean ‘?’’ I typed back.

‘Why did you text good morning?’

‘Duh. Friendship contract. Article 1. Daily communication.’

‘Ah right. The contract.’

‘Yes, the contract that you agreed to.’

‘I agreed to texting. I didn’t subscribe to morning pleasantries.’

‘It’s called being polite.’

‘It’s called being weird.’

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling as I got out of bed.

‘I’m not weird for saying good morning to my friend.’

‘You’re definitely weird. But fine. Good morning, Saffron.’

I had to bite the inside of my cheeks. Good morning lang naman ’yan! Bakit parang bigla na gusto ko i-screenshot ’yung message niya?!

‘See? Was that so hard?’ I replied instead. I was totally cool and casual. Right.

‘Extremely difficult. I may never recover,’ he said. Tss. Was he really Milo if he’s not sarcastic?

I found myself grinning as I got ready for school, our conversation continuing as I showered and got dressed. He made sarcastic comments about my “morning person energy” (I was not a morning person), and I defended my right to civilized greetings.

By the time I left for school, we’d exchanged about twenty messages, and I realized I was looking forward to his replies more than I should have been.

---

At the library, I spread out my Consti readings and tried to focus on the assigned cases. But I kept finding myself scrolling back through my text conversation with Milo from this morning.

‘Good morning’

‘?’

’What do you mean ‘?’’

‘Since when do you text good morning?’

I read through our entire exchange again, analyzing every message.

Was I being too formal?

Too eager?

The way he’d questioned my “good morning” made me second-guess everything… pero masama ba bumati ng good morning? I greet people good morning din naman—granted not through texts, but that’s immaterial. Polite lang talaga ako na tao.

Tsk.

Maybe I was overthinking this friendship thing.

I put my phone away and tried to concentrate on my readings, but I kept thinking about our conversation. Naggood morning lang naman ako. Wala naman akong ibang sinabi. In fact, sinusunod ko lang naman ’yung friendship agreement namin!

Yeah.

I was just definitely reading too much into our friendship.

---

When I walked into Consti class that evening, I automatically looked for Milo. He was already there, sitting in his usual general area, but something was different.

As I approached, he looked up and gave me a small nod. Not his usual complete ignorance of my existence, but actual acknowledgment.

And then, instead of leaving an empty seat between us like he always did, he gestured to the chair directly beside him.

I stopped walking and stared at him. “Are you sick?”

“What?” he asked, not even looking at me.

“You’re being weird. You never—” Napa-tingin siya sa akin. I gestured vaguely at the seating arrangement. “There’s usually a buffer seat.”

“Article 3. Public acknowledgment. We’re friends now, remember?”

I pursed my lips.

Yeah… I did say that.

“Oh. Right. The contract.”

I sat down next to him, trying to act like this wasn’t completely throwing me off. Like my heart wasn’t beating faster just because we were sitting directly next to each other instead of maintaining our usual buffer zone—kasi weird naman talaga.

But it was throwing me off. Completely.

I could smell his cologne now—something clean and slightly woody that I couldn’t identify. I could see the way he drummed his fingers on his desk when he was thinking. I could hear the soft sound of his breathing.

It was incredibly distracting.

“You’re being weird,” Milo observed quietly as our prof entered the room.

“I’m not being weird,” I whispered back.

“You’re sitting like you’re about to run away,” he said.

I looked down and realized I was perched on the very edge of my chair, my body angled slightly away from him.

“I’m sitting normally.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Fine.” I scooted my chair closer and forced myself to relax. “Better?”

He just shrugged tapos ay binalik niya iyong tingin niya sa binabasa niya.

Before I could respond na nabu-bwisit ako sa pagsa-shrug niya, Sir called the class to attention, and I forced myself to focus on the lecture—which was honestly, a miracle, dahil sa ilang buwan ko sa law school, ngayon lang ako nagka-lecture. Something good must’ve happened kaya nasa mood si sir na maglecture.

I tried to focus on this once in a lifetime experience—or at least, I tried to focus.

Instead, I found myself hyperaware of every movement Milo made. When he shifted in his chair, when he reached for his pen, when he turned a page in his notebook. I kept stealing glances at his hands, at the way he held his pen, at the neat handwriting in his notes.

At one point, he leaned slightly closer to see something on my desk, and I caught another whiff of that cologne. It was definitely something expensive, something that smelled like… I couldn’t place it.

Would it be weird kung tatanungin ko kung ano iyong pabango niya? I mean, I do ask my friends minsan kapag gusto ko iyong pabango or makeup or something nila. Same din naman if they ask me. I am no gatekeeper.

I really wanted to ask him about it, but I knew that he would definitely qualify it as “making it weird,” so I kept my mouth shut.

“Borromeo,” Professor Santos called out suddenly, and I snapped to attention.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Can you explain the Court’s ruling in the Marcos vs Manglapus case?”

I stared at him blankly. I had no idea what case he was talking about. I’d been so distracted by Milo sitting next to me that I hadn’t heard a single word of the lecture.

Also… the fuck?

I thought lecture?!

“I—” I paused. I took a breathe. “Could you repeat the question, Sir?”

Sir raised an eyebrow. “Were you paying attention, Borromeo?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Yes, Sir. I just want to make sure I understood correctly.”

“The Marcos vs Manglapus case. The Court’s position on the right to return of political exiles.”

I scrambled through my memory, trying to recall anything about that case. Thankfully, I’d read it as part of our assignments, even if I hadn’t been listening to the lecture. Also, for once, it was an interesting case kaya nag-enjoy ako na basahin.

“The Court held that the right to return to one’s country is not merely a constitutional right but a natural and inherent right of Filipino citizens,” I recited. “However, this right is not absolute and may be subject to reasonable restrictions in the interest of national security and public safety.”

“Correct. And what was the specific ruling regarding the President?”

“The Court held that the President has the authority to bar the return of the President’s family based on considerations of national security and public welfare, and that such decisions are largely within executive discretion.”

“Correct.”

I let out a quiet breath of relief as Sir moved on to the next student. That had been way too close.

Also, I felt kind of bad… Napansin ba ni Sir na distracted ako kaya bigla niya akong tinawag sa recit? Kasi akala ko lecture… Magagalit kaya iyong block sa akin dahil from lecture bigla kaming nagrecit?

But then again, hindi ba responsibility naman naming lahat na mag-aral? Kahit nagulat ako, naka-sagot pa rin naman ako… I think.

“Nice save,” Milo murmured next to me.

“Shut up,” I whispered back.

“You looked like you were about to panic.”

“I was not about to panic.”

“You were definitely about to panic.”

“I was just thinking.”

“About what? You clearly weren’t listening to the lecture.”

I shot him a look that I hoped conveyed “not now,” and he smirked but went back to taking notes.

For the rest of class, I forced myself to pay attention, but it was still difficult with him sitting so close. Every time he moved or shifted or made the slightest sound, my attention would waver.

This was ridiculous. I was a serious law student. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by something as simple as sitting next to a… friend.

A friend who smelled really, really good.

---

After class ended, I was packing my things when I realized Milo had already left. Wala naman kaming usapan na sabay kaming lalabas sa room pero—tsk. Bakit ba disappointed ako? Nasa kanya ba ang mapa pauwi ng bahay ko? Maliligaw ba ako kapag wala siya?

Tss.

Maybe I needed another spa weekend—clearly, I hadn’t been thinking straight as of the late.

I knew I should head to the parking lot dahil nandon na si Kuya, but for some reason, I made my way to his usual spot, thinking maybe Milo had just gone ahead. But when I got there, I froze.

Milo was there, alright.

But he wasn’t alone.

The girl from before—the one who’d been flirting with him weeks ago—was back. She was sitting on the bench next to him, laughing at something he’d said, her hand resting casually on his arm.

And Milo… Milo was smiling. Actually smiling, not his usual smirk or half-smile. A real, genuine smile.

My stomach dropped.

I should leave. I should definitely leave. This was clearly a private conversation, and I had no business interrupting.

But I couldn’t make my feet move.

Instead, I stood behind a pillar where they couldn’t see me, watching like some kind of stalker as the girl continued to laugh at whatever Milo was saying.

“You’re so funny,” I heard her say, her voice carrying across the courtyard.

Milo wasn’t that funny! He was sarcastic and dry and sometimes amusing in a deadpan way, but he wasn’t—

Actually… he kind of was funny. In his own weird, cynical way. When he made those observations about people or situations, when he turned my own words back on me with that amused look in his eyes.

If I found him funny, then other people probably did, too.

Other people like this girl, who was now touching his arm again and leaning closer to hear whatever he was saying.

I felt sick.

This was stupid.

I was being stupid.

Milo was allowed to talk to other people.

He was allowed to have friends.

He was allowed to… whatever this was.

We were just friends. That’s what we’d agreed on. Friends who texted each other and eat pares together and had a ridiculous contract about daily communication.

So why did watching him with someone else feel like a punch to the gut?

I turned and walked away before either of them could see me, my chest tight with something I didn’t want to name.

---

When I got home, I tried to focus on my case digests, but I couldn’t concentrate. Every time I started reading, I’d see that girl’s hand on Milo’s arm, hear her laugh echoing in my head.

I kept checking my phone, waiting for a text from him. But there was nothing. Tss. Bakit naman niya kasi ako itetext? Kung based sa friendship contract, he’s already fulfilled his mandatory one text a day. Nagreply na siya sa good morning message ko kanina. Hindi na siya magtetext.

Right.

So, I should really go back to studying dahil hindi naman hihinto ang recits ko.

Finally, around 9PM, I gave up on studying and decided to text him first.

Fifty cases in total yung sa digests sa Consti, right?

No response.

I waited ten minutes, then sent another message.

Nevermind.

Tss.

Whatever.

I was about to toss my phone inside the drawer because it was distracting me from doing what I needed to do nang biglang magvibrate iyong phone ko. My eyes widened. I had to blink thrice to check if tama ba iyong nababasa ko sa screen.

Milo Delgado

What the—misdial ba ’to? Why was he calling?!

“Hello?” I said as I answered the call. I even panicked a little dahil baka i-end niya iyong call kapag hindi ako sumagot agad.

“Why did you call?” His voice sounded slightly distracted.

“I didn’t call. You called me.”

“I mean why did you text. I’m doing digests. I can’t write while texting.”

Oh.

So, he wasn’t ignoring me.

Good to know.

“Sorry to bother you. I was asking something lang.”

“It’s fine. What do you want?”

There was a directness to his tone that reminded me this was Milo—the same person who told me I was being weird for complimenting his handwriting. Not someone who owed me explanations about who he talked to.

“I just wanted to check in. Friend contract and all.”

Fuck.

Seriously, Saffron?! Kapag sa recits, nakakapag-isip ka naman ng sagot pero bakit parang ang stupid ng sagot mo dito kay Milo?!

“You already texted me this morning.”

“Right. My bad. Short term memory,” sabi ko na lang. What the hell. Weird na rin naman ang tingin niya sa akin, so let it be. “Nawala ka bigla kanina,” I continued like I was just starting a casual conversation.

“I went to smoke,” he replied. Medyo mabagal iyong sagot niya. Dahil ba busy siya sa pagsusulat ng digest? Or… was he trying to conceal something? Na kausap niya ’yung girl? But then, if so, why?

“I know. I saw.”

There was a pause. “You saw?”

“I mean, I went to the smoking area too. But you were busy.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“Ah.”

“Who was that girl?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

“What girl?”

“The one you were talking to. She seemed… friendly.”

“Schoolmate.”

“Oh.” I waited for him to elaborate, but of course he didn’t. “She was laughing a lot,” I stated. Baka masayahin lang talaga siyang tao. Lucky her.

“Was she?”

“Yeah. You must have been saying something really funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“Right. Well, she seemed to think you were.”

“Okay.”

This conversation was going nowhere. But for some reason, I couldn’t let it go.

“So… hindi mo girlfriend?” I asked, trying to sound casual. And totally not prying! Buti sana if may socials siya. I could just stalk him. Tsk. Ang hirap na if may gusto ako malaman about him, my only options were to stalk him or ask him—both options were demoralizing and dehumanizing!

There was a long pause.

“Yan ba ’yung kanina mo pa gusto itanong?” he asked. Sure, he’s not in front of me, but it was as if I could see him arching his brow.

Heat flooded my cheeks. “I’m just curious. As your friend.”

“No girlfriend.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Why? You sound surprised.”

“I’m not surprised. I just… you’re not that bad looking—you look okay, I guess. And apparently you’re funny. So I figured…”

“You figured what?”

“I don’t know. That you’d have someone.”

I was chewing on my lower lip.

Fuck.

I couldn’t believe I was asking him these questions.

“No.”

“Is it because of your impossibly high standards?” I asked, trying to make the conversation less nerve-wracking that it was—at least for me.

He actually laughed at that. “No. I just think relationships are time-consuming.”

“Time-consuming? ’Di ba inspiration naman ang love life?”

“Yeah, probably. I’m just really busy right now.”

“Ah. But what if both kayo busy? Like, someone who understands your schedule?”

“Then maybe.”

“But you’re not looking?”

“I’m not against the idea. I just haven’t met anyone who makes me think ‘I have to have her.’”

The casual way he said it made my stomach flip.

Someone who makes him think he has to have her?

“That’s… specific.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Very romantic.”

“I’m not romantic.”

“Clearly.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Romantic. Looking for someone.”

The question caught me off guard. “I… no. Not really. Law school is kind of consuming my entire life right now.”

“Right. No time for distractions.”

“Exactly. No distractions.”

We sat in silence for a moment, and I realized this conversation had taken a weird turn. We were talking about relationships and romance and people we wanted to “have,” which felt distinctly un-friend-like.

“I should let you get back to your digests,” I said finally.

“Yeah. I have like three more cases to get through.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Unless may balak kang umabsent, you’ll definitely see me tomorrow.”

Ugh. He’s just so annoying.

After I hung up, I stared at my phone for a long time, replaying the conversation in my head.

No girlfriend. Not looking, but not against the idea. Waiting for someone who would make him think “I have to have her.”

Someone who wasn’t me, obviously. We were friends. Just friends who had a contract and texted each other and sat next to each other in class.

Friends who didn’t get jealous when they saw each other talking to attractive schoolmates.

I marched towards Sage’s room, checked all his cologne, and when I finally figured out what Milo’s cologne was, and borrowed it, when back to my room, and spraying it on my pillow before lying down.

‘Just because I liked the scent,’ I told myself. ‘Nothing more.’

But as I fell asleep breathing in that familiar smell, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to be the person who made Milo Delgado think ‘I have to have her.’

This story is already at Chapter 28 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 18

Thursday afternoon came with a knot of anxiety in my stomach that I couldn’t quite explain.

It was just pares. Just food. Just a friendly meal between friends.

Not a date.

Definitely not a date.

I’d been telling myself this all day, but for some reason, I’d also spent twenty minutes trying to decide what to wear. Which was ridiculous, because it was literally just pares—and ilang beses na akong naka-kain doon. But I’d changed from my usual post-class outfit twice before settling on jeans and a cute top—casual enough to show I wasn’t trying too hard, pero still put-together enough to look like I had some pride.

Why was I overthinking this so much?

Definitely.

After our last class ended, Milo and I packed up our things at the same pace, which felt weirdly coordinated. When we both stood up at the same time, there was this awkward moment where we looked at each other.

“Okay ka na?” he asked simply.

“Yup,” I replied.

We walked out of the classroom together, and I tried not to read too much into how natural it felt. This was just what friends did, right? Friends make plans and followed through on them.

“So,” I said as we made our way across the campus, “it’s about twenty minutes walking. Is that okay?”

“It’s fine.”

“Cool. The place is really good. I’ve been going there since I was a kid.”

“You mentioned.”

“Right. I mentioned that.”

God, I was being weird again. Why was I being weird?

And why did I keep on telling him about my childhood? As if interested siya! Ni hindi ko nga alam kung only child ba siya o kung anuman. But knowing what I know about him? He screams only child.

“This is a friendly dinner,” I said suddenly. “Between friends.”

Milo glanced at me with that amused look I was getting used to. “I know.”

“Good. I just wanted to share a good spot.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

Why the fuck was I being so weird?!

We walked in silence for a few minutes, and I tried to calm down. This was Milo. We talked every day now. We sat next to each other in class. We were friends. There was no reason to be nervous.

Except that this felt different somehow. Being alone with him outside school, walking through the streets of Manila together, having an actual plan that involved just the two of us.

But it wasn’t a date.

I needed to stop thinking of it as a date.

Kasi hindi naman ’to date.

“You know,” I said, trying to fill the comfortable but slightly nerve-wracking silence, “I’m still kind of mad about the whole number 4 thing.”

“The what?”

“Yung minalian mo ’yung quiz ko,” I said, slightly annoyed again. Tandang-tanda ko pa kaya ’yon tapos siya, ano, he just forgot?! Like it was nothing?!

He gave a small nod. “I wasn’t being smug. I was being correct.”

“You were being smug.”

“Well, fix your penmanship next time.”

My lips parted. “Are you being serious?”

He nodded.

“My penmanship is fine! You just misread it!”

“Your A looked like a 4.”

“It looked like A!”

“To you, maybe.”

“To everyone! You’re literally the only person who thought it was a 4!”

“I’m the one who was grading it.”

“You’re not even a professor!”

“I was asked to help grade. I graded accurately.”

I made a frustrated noise. “You cost me points for no reason!”

“I cost you points because your handwriting is unclear.”

“My handwriting is not unclear!”

“Then why did your A look like a 4?”

“It didn’t look like a 4! You just—” I stopped myself before I said something that would start a full argument. “Fine. Whatever. Ancient history.”

I drew a deep breath. Wow, wala atang araw na hindi niya ako nabu-bwisit. Siguro if nagsama sila ni Sage, that would kill me sa sama ng loob.

“Is it? You brought it up.”

“Because I’m still annoyed about it!”

“Then write more clearly next time.”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“Sure you do.”

“I do. Right now I do.”

“You hate that I’m right.”

“You’re not right! You’re stubborn!”

“I can be both.”

I wanted to strangle him. The fact that he was completely unbothered by this conversation while I was getting worked up made it even more irritating.

“You know what? Forget it. Let’s just eat pares and pretend you’re not impossible.”

“I’m not impossible. I’m consistent.”

“Consistently annoying.”

“At least I’m reliable.”

We turned a corner, getting closer to the pares place. The familiar smell of street food was already in the air, and I tried to let it calm me down. Getting into an argument before we even got to the restaurant was not how I wanted this to go.

“For what it’s worth,” I said after a few more steps, “I still think you misread my handwriting.”

“For what it’s worth, I still think you need to practice writing—balik ka sa kinder.”

“Oh, my god.”

“What? I’m being helpful.”

“You’re being infuriating.”

“I’m being honest.”

“Same thing, apparently.”

But despite my annoyance, I found myself fighting back a smile. This was so typically Milo—completely matter-of-fact about something that had been bothering me for weeks, refusing to back down even slightly.

It was infuriating.

It was also kind of… endearing?

No. Not endearing. Just familiar. I was getting used to his stubborn streak, that was all.

“There,” I said, pointing ahead. “That’s the place.”

“The one with the faded sign?”

“Hey, don’t judge the place by the signage. The food is amazing.”

“I’m not judging. I’m observing.”

“You’re always observing.”

“Better than assuming.”

“Now you’re taking shots at my assumptions?”

“I’m taking shots at everyone’s assumptions.”

“Equal opportunity criticism. How noble of you.”

“I try,” he said with that freaking annoying shrug of his.

Despite the argument, I felt myself relaxing as we approached the familiar entrance. This place held good memories—family dinners when I was younger, study breaks during college, comfort food after bad days.

Bringing Milo here felt… significant, somehow. Like I was sharing something personal with him.

Which was ridiculous, because it was just pares.

Just food.

Between friends.

---

“Saffie!” Ate Mila called out from behind the counter as soon as she saw me. “Ang tagal mo na hindi nakabalik dito!”

I smiled and waved at her. Ate Mila had been running this place for as long as I could remember. My parents used to bring me, Sage, and Ate Lily here when we were kids, back when they still had time for random food adventures.

“Hi, Ate! Just got busy with law school. Miss ko na yung pares ninyo.”

Her eyes immediately shifted to Milo, and I saw the familiar look of curiosity that all Filipino titas got when they saw you with someone new.

“At sino naman ang kasama mo?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Friend ko po, Ate. Classmate ko sa law school,” mabilis na sagot ko kasi alam ko na kung ano iyong iniisip ni Ate Mila.

“Friend…” she repeated, clearly not buying it.

“Yes, Ate. Friend po,” I insisted, hyperaware of Milo standing beside me, probably listening to every word.

“Sige na, Saffie. Pwede ka naman daw magfriend sabi ng Daddy mo.”

My eyes widened. “Ate Mila!” I said but she just waived her hand like she was having the time of her life teasing and embarrassing me in front of my friend!

Ate Mila just laughed and waved us toward a table. “Sige, sige. Punta na kayo ng friend mo sa lamesa.”

I shot Milo an apologetic look as we sat down, pero he just looked amused.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered. “Alam mo naman… Titas of Manila.”

“It’s fine.”

Right.

It’s probably nothing for him kasi… wala naman talaga. Ako lang ’tong kung anu-ano ang naiisip.

I busied myself with looking at the menu, even though I already knew what I was going to order. The familiar smell of beef pares and rice was making me hungry, pero I was still too nervous to fully relax.

“So,” I said after we’d ordered, “how are things with our blockmates? For you, I mean.”

Milo shrugged. “Same as always. I don’t really interact with them.”

“Right. But like… it doesn’t bother you? Being on the outside?”

“I’ve always been on the outside.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

“Not really.”

I studied his face across the small table. “Don’t you ever want to… I don’t know. Be part of the group?”

“Not really. Groups are complicated.”

“But you’re part of a group with me. Our… friendship group of two.”

Napa-tingin siya sa akin. “That’s different.”

I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but our food arrived and the conversation shifted.

“For once, tama ka,” Milo said after trying the pares. Tss. He really couldn’t give me a compliment without being a jerk about it.

“I told you! Best in Metro Manila.”

“I don’t know about best in Metro Manila, but it’s good.”

“Wow. High praise from Milo Delgado.”

“I’m known for my food reviews.”

“You’re not known for much kaya. Very mysterious.”

“I’m not mysterious. I’m private.”

“Same thing.”

“Not really.”

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. It was weird how natural this felt, despite my earlier anxiety. Maybe Milo was right—groups were complicated, but this wasn’t complicated. This was just… easy.

“I want to fix things with them,” I said suddenly. “With our blockmates.”

He gave a small nod. He was too busy finishing the food. I fought a smile. Well, at least mukhang nag-enjoy naman talaga siya.

“Because… because I miss it. Having people to study with. People to complain about professors with. People who actually want to sit with me during breaks. Like nung college.”

“So apologize.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” I struggled to find the words. “Because apologizing means admitting I was wrong. And I know I was wrong, but saying it out loud is… scary.”

“Scary how?”

“Because what if they don’t forgive me? What if I apologize and they still don’t want me around?”

Milo considered this while chewing. “Then at least you’ll know.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“It’s honest.”

“You’re always honest. Sometimes brutally so.”

“Would you rather I lie?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“Too bad.”

I poked at my rice with my spoon. “I really do want to fix it. I just don’t know how.”

“There’s a party this Friday,” Milo said casually.

“What party?”

He shrugged. “Who knows at this point? Lagi namang may party,” he said. I mean, he’s right… When my parents used to talk about SCA, parang super nerd lang ng mga tao na hindi alam how to have fun. Nung pumasok naman ako, lagi namang may parties and whatnot. I guess times have changed.

“How do you know about parties? You don’t go to parties,” I pointed out. Although kind of an outsider ako sa block, I hear things pa rin naman. Alam ko na wala si Milo sa mga party na ’yan for whatever reason.

“I hear things.”

“Right. Your mysterious network of informants.”

“Our blockmates talk. I listen.”

I considered this. A party could be the perfect opportunity to approach Sheena and the others in a more relaxed setting. “I don’t know. Parties are…” I paused and sighed. “I don’t have the best track record with parties lately.”

“Alcohol helps with apologies.”

“Alcohol helps with bad decisions, too.”

“True, but it also lowers inhibitions. Makes it easier to say things you need to say.”

“I don’t want to get drunk again,” I said, remembering my last disastrous night out. “That didn’t end well.”

“I’ll be there.”

The casual way he said it made me look up from my food. “You will?”

“Yeah. I can watch over you. Make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“You’d do that?”

“Why not? We’re friends, right? Friends look out for each other.”

Something warm spread through my chest at his offer. The idea of having someone there, someone looking out for me, was more appealing than I wanted to admit.

“You don’t even like parties,” I pointed out.

“I don’t like a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I won’t do them if necessary.”

“And watching over me is necessary?”

“Preventing you from having another breakdown is necessary.”

I made a face at him. “Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m being practical.”

“You’re always being practical.”

“Someone has to be.”

We finished eating, and the conversation drifted to lighter topics—complaints about our professors, funny things that had happened in class, safe territory that didn’t involve feelings or complicated group dynamics.

But as we got ready to leave, I found myself bringing up our first confrontation again.

“I’m sorry,” I said suddenly as we stood up from the table.

“For what?”

“Nung nagvolunteer ako sa recit before and… you know,” I said. “That was kind of uncalled for.”

Milo stared at me, his forehead creased. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because… because I was showing off. And that was rude.”

“You were showing off by participating in class discussion?”

“I was showing off by correcting you in front of everyone.”

“But you were right to correct me if you thought I was wrong.”

“Was I though?”

“Of course not,” he replied. “Kailan ba ako nagkamali sa recit?”

I made a face. Ang kapal ng mukha.

“Always,” I replied. “Kaya nga kita tinatama, ’di ba? Consider that as my act of charity.”

I saw him smirk.

I chewed on my lower lip.

“Do you want me to be okay with you challenging my recitations?” he suddenly asked.

“…yes?”

“Then do your best.”

“Do my best?”

“Yeah. Challenge me if you think I’m wrong—which I highly doubt na mali ako. Keep me on my toes.”

I scoffed. “As if. I’m smarter than you kaya.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted the arrogance in my tone.

“Says the person who had a mental breakdown just because I got higher midterm grades,” Milo replied casually.

I froze.

The comment hit like a slap, not because it was cruel, but because it was accurate. Painfully, embarrassingly accurate.

Milo looked at me directly, his expression serious but not unkind. “I’ll apologize if you want me to, but I honestly don’t want to. You won’t always be the best at everything, Borromeo. It’s not the end of the world.”

I stared at him, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. Part of me wanted to argue, to defend myself, to point out that I’d been under a lot of pressure and that anyone would have reacted the same way.

But the truth was, he was right.

I had had a mental breakdown over grades. I had let my need to be the best consume me to the point where anything less than perfection felt like failure.

“You’re right,” I said quietly.

“I usually am.”

“Don’t push it.”

But there was no heat in my words, and he almost smiled.

“I know you’re right,” I continued. “I just… it’s hard. Being okay with not being the best.”

“Why?”

“Because being the best is all I’ve ever known how to be.”

“Maybe it’s time to learn how to be something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like someone who doesn’t need to be perfect all the time.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“Most good things are.”

---

We walked back to school in comfortable silence, both of us processing the conversation. It hadn’t been the light, easy dinner I’d imagined, but somehow it had been better. More real.

When we reached the campus parking lot where my driver was waiting, there was an awkward moment where we both stopped and looked at each other.

“Thanks,” Milo said.

“Thanks for coming. And for… being honest. Even when it sucked.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

“Is it? Most of my friends just tell me what I want to hear.”

“Then they’re not very good friends.”

“Maybe not.”

We stood there for another moment, neither of us quite sure how to end this—or perhaps just me.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked before I could even process my words. The fuck?! Of course I’d see him! Blockmates kami.

“Unless you plan on skipping class,” he replied, looking at me like I was being weird again—rightfully so.

“I never skip class,” I just said, trying to sound casual like I wasn’t being weird just a few seconds ago.

“See you tomorrow, Saffron.”

He turned and started walking away, and I stayed there watching his silhouette grow smaller. I was about to get in the car when his phone rang.

“What?” I heard him answer, his voice carrying in the quiet evening air.

I froze, one hand on the car door handle.

“Oo, kakatapos lang,” he continued, and I could hear the change in his tone—lighter, more relaxed than it had been with me all evening. “San nga ulit?”

There was a pause as he listened to whoever was on the other end.

Then he laughed.

Actually laughed. Not the almost-smile or smirk I was used to, but a real, genuine laugh that made my stomach drop.

“Baliw,” he said, still laughing.

Baliw nga ata talaga ako because why the hell did I feel slighted na may iba siyang tinatawag na baliw?

“Twenty minutes. Depende sa traffic.”

He hung up and continued walking, but I could see from his posture that he was in a good mood. Better than the mood he’d been in with me.

I stood there, my hand still frozen on the car door, watching him disappear around the corner.

Who was he meeting? Who could make him laugh like that when I’d barely gotten him to almost-smile during our entire dinner?

“Saff?” my driver called softly. “Uuwi na tayo?”

“Yeah,” I said, finally getting into the car.

But as we drove away, I couldn’t stop thinking about that laugh. About how easily it had come, how natural it sounded.

And how much I wished I could be the person on the other end of that phone call.

This story is already at Chapter 29 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 19

The bass was thumping so loud I could feel it in my chest as I walked into the crowded club. The smell of alcohol and too many people in one space hit me immediately, but I forced myself to keep walking. This was it. Tonight was the night I’d finally apologize to my blockmates and hopefully salvage what was left of my social life in law school.

I’d spent an hour getting ready, changing outfits three times before settling on something that said ‘I’m fun but also sorry for being a bitch’ —whatever that looked like.

The place was packed with drunk people, and I could already spot several familiar faces. My heart was beating fast, but I reminded myself why I was here. Milo had promised to watch over me, to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid while I worked up the courage to apologize.

Speaking of Milo…

I scanned the room looking for him and found him near the bar area.

But he wasn’t alone—of course this guy was never alone.

Three girls were clustered around him, and I recognized one of them as the same girl who’d been flirting with him at the smoking area before. Stalker ba siya? Bakit nandito na naman siya? She was laughing at something he’d said, her hand resting on his arm in that casual-but-not-really-casual way girls did when they were interested.

I felt that familiar twist in my stomach.

“Sabi niya nandito siya para bantayan ako,” I muttered under my breath, taking a gulp from the drink Milo got me earlier. “Tsk.”

He wasn’t encouraging them, pero he wasn’t exactly discouraging them either. The bold girl from before kept getting closer, leaning in when she talked to him, and I watched as Milo just… let it happen.

Where was the protective friend who was supposed to be watching over me? Busy being entertained by his fan club, apparently.

I forced myself to look away. I had a mission tonight, and it didn’t involve stalking Milo and getting jealous over girls who were brave enough to actually flirt with him openly.

Unlike me, who could barely admit I had feelings for him even to myself.

I needed another drink.

---

Two drinks later, I still hadn’t approached any of my blockmates. I’d spotted Sheena near the dance floor earlier, but every time I worked up the courage to walk over, I’d chicken out and head back to the drinks table instead.

This was pathetic. I am Saffron Borromeo. I gave presentations in front of entire classes. I argued with professors. I could definitely apologize to my blockmates—lalo na na alam ko naman na ako ’yung at fault.

But every time I looked in their direction, I remembered the hurt in Sheena’s eyes when I’d called her average, and my courage evaporated.

“Coward,” I whispered to myself, downing the rest of my drink.

I glanced back toward Milo’s corner and saw that the girl count had increased. Now there were four of them, and one had somehow positioned herself practically in his lap while he sat on a barstool.

My jaw clenched.

’Di ba niya pwedeng itulak ’yung babae?

Where exactly was this “watching over me” he’d promised? Because from where I was standing, he seemed pretty busy with other priorities.

I needed air.

And maybe another drink.

But definitely air first.

I pushed through the crowd toward the bathroom, hoping to splash some water on my face and give myself a pep talk that would actually work this time.

The bathroom was a welcome respite from the chaos outside. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, noting how my carefully applied makeup was already starting to look a little smudged around the edges.

“Get it together, Saffron,” I told my reflection. “You came here to apologize. Just do it. Don’t focus on other things na hindi mo naman business.”

But even as I said it, I felt deflated. Watching Milo with those girls had drained all my confidence. How was I supposed to approach my blockmates and bare my soul when I couldn’t even work up the courage to tell the guy I liked that… I liked him?

The sound of a toilet flushing interrupted my self-pity session, and I watched in the mirror as a stall door opened.

Sheena stepped out.

We made eye contact in the mirror, and for a moment, neither of us moved. The background music was muffled but I could still hear ’We Found Love ’ being played by the DJ, which felt ironically appropriate given my current emotional state.

“Hi,” Sheena said carefully, moving to the sink next to mine to wash her hands.

“Hi.”

We stood there in awkward silence, both pretending to be very interested in our respective reflections.

“Are you okay?” Sheena asked finally. “You look…”

“Like shit?”

“I was going to say tired.”

I turned to face her, and before I could overthink it or talk myself out of it, the words just spilled out.

“I’m sorry.”

Sheena blinked, clearly not expecting such a direct approach. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, louder this time. “For what I said. For being a complete bitch to you and everyone else. For acting like I was better than all of you when really I was just scared and insecure and taking it out on people who didn’t deserve it.”

Sheena stared at me, her mouth slightly open.

“I know saying sorry doesn’t fix everything,” I continued, the words pouring out now that I’d started. “And I know you probably don’t want to forgive me. But I really am sorry. And I wish we can go back to before nung inaaya niyo pa ako to join study sessions and digest pools. I miss having people who actually want to study with me and complain about professors with me and just… be around me.”

“Saff—”

“I was wrong,” I said, cutting her off. “I was so wrong, and I’ve been miserable ever since, and I know that’s my own fault but I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. Really, genuinely sorry.”

Sheena was quiet for a long moment, processing everything I’d just dumped on her.

“That,” she said finally, “was not how I expected this conversation to go.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good. And brave.”

I felt something loosen in my chest. “So… are we okay? Can we try to be okay?”

Sheena studied my face, and I could see her weighing her options. Finally, she sighed.

“Yeah. We can try to be okay.”

The relief that washed over me was so intense I almost started crying right there in the bathroom.

“Thank you,” I said. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Just… don’t be a bitch again, okay? It doesn’t suit you.”

I gave her a weak smile. “I’ll try my best.”

“Good.” Sheena smiled, and it actually looked genuine. “So what’s really going on with you? Because that whole perfectionist breakdown thing was kind of scary.”

I leaned against the sink counter, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Law school is hard.”

“Law school is hard for everyone. That wasn’t just about law school.”

She was right, of course. But how could I explain that my entire identity had been built around being the best, and law school was the first place where “the best” felt impossible to achieve?

“It’s complicated,” I said finally.

“Does it have anything to do with Milo?”

The question caught me so off guard that I nearly choked on my own spit.

“What? Why would you ask that?”

“Because you keep looking toward the door like you’re expecting someone.”

Shit.

Was I that obvious?

Probably—si Milo lang naman ata ang hindi nakaka-pansin… or more accurately, hindi niya pinapansin.

“And,” Sheena continued with a knowing look, “because watching you two in class has been like watching the world’s most intense academic foreplay.”

My face burned with embarrassment. “What? No way!”

“Saffron, you literally get flustered every time he sits next to you now. And your recitations when you’re arguing with him? There’s so much sexual tension I’m surprised our professors haven’t told you both to get a room.”

“Oh, my god.”

“So? What’s going on there?”

I buried my face in my hands. “I may have a slight crush.”

“We noticed.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“The entire block.”

“Fuck.”

Sheena laughed. “It’s not that bad. Actually, it’s kind of cute. You get all intense and competitive when you like someone.”

“That’s not cute, that’s psychotic.”

“It’s very you,” sagot niya. I peeked at her through my fingers. “So, what’s the status there? With you and Milo?”

“There is no status. We’re friends. That’s it.”

Sheena laughed. “Aww, is that disappointment I heard in your voice?” I frowned at her. Sheena chuckled. “Does he know about the crush?”

“God, I hope not.”

“Have you thought about telling him?”

“Have I thought about jumping off a bridge? Because that’s basically the same thing.”

Sheena rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being realistic. Did you see the girls all over him out there?”

“The ones he’s been ignoring all night?”

“He’s not ignoring them!”

“Saffron, he’s barely acknowledged their existence. He’s been too busy scanning the room looking for someone.”

“Looking for who?”

“Take a wild guess.”

Before I could process what she meant by that, Sheena grabbed my hand.

“Come on,” she said, pulling me toward the door.

“Where are we going?”

“You want to know if Milo likes you back?”

“Sheena, no—”

“Trust me.”

She dragged me out of the bathroom and straight onto the dance floor, where the music was loud enough to make conversation impossible. Before I could protest, a guy I didn’t recognize appeared next to me.

“Want to dance?” he shouted over the music.

I started to shake my head, but Sheena caught my eye and winked at me. I realized what she was doing.

Testing Milo’s reaction.

Of course—the oldest trick in the book.

The guy was cute enough—tall, decent smile, nice eyes. Under normal circumstances, I might have said yes just for fun.

But these weren’t normal circumstances.

Still, Sheena was watching me expectantly, and I’d just gotten my friend back. If she thought this was a good idea… then why the hell not?

“Sure,” I said, and let him pull me deeper into the crowd.

The guy—I couldn’t even hear his name because it was too loud—was a decent dancer, and under the influence of alcohol (lots of it) and newfound confidence from my successful apology, I found myself actually enjoying it.

We’d been dancing for maybe five minutes when I felt a hand on my shoulder, firm and insistent.

I turned around to find Milo standing behind me, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“Saffron,” he called. Naka-tingin sa kanya iyong kasayaw ko, but Milo wasn’t even acknowledging his existence—he was only looking at me. Wow, so naalala niya pa na nag-e-exist ako ngayon?

“We’re in the middle of a song,” the guy protested.

Milo’s grip on my shoulder tightened slightly. “I need to talk to you.”

Without waiting for a response, Milo pulled me away from the other guy and closer to the edge of the dance floor.

“What’s your problem?” I asked, pretending to be drunker than I was. “I was just having fun.”

“Did you forget why we’re here?” he said into my ear, his voice low enough that I had to lean in to hear him.

His breath was warm against my neck, and I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach.

“Mission accomplished,” I said, pulling back to look at him. “Sheena and I are good na. Right, Sheena?”

I looked around for her and spotted her a few feet away, giving me an encouraging thumbs up and even blowing me a flying kiss.

“See? We’re all good now.”

I started to move back toward the guy I was dancing with, but Milo’s hand shot out and caught my wrist.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to dance. He is cute.”

“He can find someone else to dance with.”

“Why should he? We were having fun.”

“You were making a scene.”

“I was dancing!”

“You were—”

I tried to pull away from him again, but he tugged me back, and suddenly I was pressed against his chest, close enough to smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating from his body.

We were both breathing hard, and I could feel his heart beating fast against my chest. The music seemed to fade into the background as we stared at each other.

This was it.

This was the moment I’d been building up to without even realizing it.

The alcohol had given me just enough liquid courage, and the successful apology to Sheena had given me just enough confidence. Milo was looking at me with an intensity I’d never seen before, his usual walls temporarily down.

I could do this. I could finally tell him how I felt.

Or better yet…

I could show him… right?

The thought hit me like lightning, sudden and terrifying and exhilarating all at once. This was my chance. This was the moment I’d been unconsciously building toward for weeks—through all our conversations, our friendship contract, our pares dinner, every single interaction that had brought us to this point.

I tilted my face up toward his, my heart pounding so violently I was sure he could hear it over the music. My hands were shaking against his chest, and I could feel every inch of space between us like a physical thing.

This was it.

This was really happening.

His cologne filled my senses, that familiar scent I’d been obsessing over, and I could see every detail of his face this close—the way his dark eyes reflected the party lights, the sharp line of his jaw, the lips I’d been staring at without realizing it for weeks.

I was maybe a quarter inch away from the corner of his mouth when I saw it.

The exact moment his eyes widened.

Not with desire.

Not with surprise at finally getting what he wanted, too.

But with shock.

And something that looked dangerously close to panic.

No.

The realization hit me like ice water. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want me .

But I was already committed, already leaning in, already past the point of no return. I couldn’t stop now without making this a thousand times more humiliating.

Fuck.

At the last possible second, just before my lips would have brushed against his skin, I let my entire body go limp and collapsed against his chest, pretending to pass out from too much alcohol.

The impact of his rejection felt physical—like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it stopped beating. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to melt into the floor and never have to face him again.

I almost kissed him.

He didn’t want me to.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

“Shit,” I heard him mutter above me, his arms automatically coming up to support my dead weight. “Saffron?”

I kept my eyes squeezed shut, grateful for the excuse the fake fainting gave me. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t bear to see pity or awkwardness or worse—relief that I’d stopped myself in time.

How could I have been so stupid? How could I have misread everything so completely?

The protective way he pulled me away from the guy—that was just him being a good friend, keeping his promise to watch over me. The intensity in his eyes—that was probably annoyance at having to babysit me all night. The way he’d held me close—that was just him trying to keep me from falling over.

And I’d interpreted all of it as romantic interest.

Pathetic.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentler now, concerned instead of panicked. “Come on, let’s get you some water.”

He thought I’d passed out from drinking too much. He thought this was just alcohol-induced behavior that we could both pretend never happened.

Maybe that was better. Maybe it was easier to let him think I was just drunk rather than face the humiliation of him knowing I’d tried to kiss him and he’d rejected me.

As he guided me toward a quieter corner, one arm around my waist to keep me upright, all I could think about was how this felt like every romantic scenario I’d been imagining, except completely wrong.

His arm around me felt like pity instead of affection.

His concern felt like obligation instead of care.

And the almost-kiss that had felt like the natural culmination of everything between us had actually been me making a complete fool of myself.

Never again, I promised myself as he settled me into a chair and went to get water. Never again would I mistake friendship for something more.

But even as I made that promise, I could still feel the ghost of how close we’d been, how for just one second, I’d thought he might want me back.

And that made everything so much worse.

Because I finally understood what it felt like to be the person who thought ‘I have to have him’ —desperate and breathless and willing to risk everything.

But he didn’t feel that way about me.

This story is already at Chapter 31 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 20

I woke up with a pounding headache and the crushing weight of my own stupidity pressing down on my chest like a concrete slab.

The first coherent thought that managed to penetrate the fog of my hangover was— I almost kissed Milo Delgado last night.

The second thought, equally devastating— He didn’t want me to.

I groaned and rolled over, burying my face in my pillow—the one that still smelled faintly of his cologne because I was apparently that pathetic. The scent that had once been comforting now felt like salt in an open wound.

Everything came flooding back in excruciating detail. The way I’d leaned in, heart pounding, thinking this was it, this was our moment. The exact second his eyes had widened—not with desire, but with something that looked dangerously close to panic. Horror, even. Like I was about to destroy something precious.

The way I’d had to fake passing out just to save us both from the humiliation of a rejected almost-kiss.

“Fuck,” I whispered into my pillow. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

How had I gotten it so wrong? I replayed every interaction we’d had over the past weeks, searching for signs I’d misread. The way he’d pulled me away from that guy at the party—protective, I’d thought. Jealous, even. But maybe it was just him fulfilling his promise to watch over me. Nothing more.

The intensity in his eyes when we’d been pressed close together—I’d interpreted it as desire, but what if it had been discomfort? What if he’d been trying to figure out how to extract himself from the situation without hurting my feelings?

God, I was such an idiot.

Puro imagination ko lang naman pala ang lahat.

I grabbed my phone, hoping against hope that maybe he’d texted. Maybe he’d checked in to see if I was okay after my ‘fainting spiel.’ Maybe there was some indication that last night hadn’t completely destroyed whatever we’d built.

No messages.

Of course there were no messages.

Bakit naman niya ako ite-text?

I stared at the empty notification screen, feeling pathetic. This was Milo we were talking about—the guy who treated daily texting like a contractual obligation, who responded to ‘good morning’ with a question mark. Did I really expect him to send me heart emojis and ask how I was feeling?

But still. Some acknowledgment that last night had happened would have been… something.

The silence felt like an answer in itself.

I considered staying in bed. Seriously considered calling in sick and spending the day wallowing in my own embarrassment. I could claim food poisoning from the party, hide under my covers, and avoid facing the reality of what I’d done to our friendship.

But that would only make things worse. I am Saffron Rose Borromeo. I didn’t hide from my mistakes—I faced them head-on and found ways to fix them.

Even when those mistakes involved trying to kiss your only friend in law school while drunk at a party.

Especially then.

---

By the time I dragged myself to the library at noon, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Not just from the hangover, but from the constant replay of last night’s events that had been torturing me all morning.

I’d analyzed every second of our interaction from at least six different angles, and they all led to the same conclusion—I’d completely misread the situation and made a fool of myself.

I was hunched over my Constitutional Law book, pretending to read the same paragraph about presidential succession for the twentieth time, when someone slid into the seat across from me.

“You look like death,” Sheena announced, dropping her study materials on the table with more force than necessary.

“Thanks. That’s exactly what every girl wants to hear.”

“I’m serious, Saff. You look awful. Natulog ka ba?”

I glanced up at her, taking in her concerned expression. Sheena had always been direct, but there was something gentler in her voice today. Something that made my chest tighten with the threat of tears.

“Not really,” I admitted.

“Want to talk about what happened sa club?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “I was drunk. I don’t really remember much.”

“Right,” she replied but sa tono pa lang ng boses niya, I already knew—she saw what was arguably one of the most embarrassing moments in my life…

My stomach dropped. “You saw?”

“I saw enough.” Her expression softened. “Saff, what happened? You looked like you were about to cry when he was walking you out.”

The memory hit me like a physical blow. Milo’s arm around my waist, guiding me toward the exit while I pretended to be too drunk to walk straight. The careful way he’d avoided looking at me directly. The silence that had stretched between us in the car.

“It’s nothing,” I said quickly, faking a smile. “Just… mixed signals. My fault for reading too much into things.”

“His fault for giving mixed signals in the first place,” Sheena said fiercely. “God, I could strangle him. The way he was acting all possessive, pulling you away from that guy like he had some claim on you, and then—”

“And then what? He’s not obligated to kiss me just because I wanted him to.”

“No, but he’s obligated not to mess with your head. You don’t act like that with someone unless you’re interested.”

I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to believe her so badly it physically hurt. But I’d seen his expression up close. I’d felt him tense up when I leaned in. That wasn’t the reaction of someone who wanted to be kissed.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re friends. That’s it.”

“Are you though? Still friends?”

The question I’d been avoiding all morning. Because the truth was, I had no idea.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, and saying it out loud made it feel more real. More terrifying.

Sheena was quiet for a moment, studying my face. Then she reached across the table and covered my hand with hers.

“Listen to me, okay?” she said seriously. “If Milo Delgado doesn’t want you, that’s his loss. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re funny when you’re not being a perfectionist psycho—”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“—and any guy would be lucky to have you interested in him. If he can’t see that, then he’s an idiot.”

I felt tears prick at my eyes. Not because of her words, exactly, but because of the pity in her voice. The way she was looking at me like I was some wounded animal that needed to be nursed back to health.

Is this what I’d become?

The girl who fell apart because a guy didn’t want to kiss her?

I’d always prided myself on being independent, on not needing validation from boys to feel good about myself. Because I had always known who I am—and I love who I am.

Kaya ano ang nangyayari sa akin ngayon?

And now here I was, sitting in the library looking ‘like death’ all because Milo Delgado had recoiled from my attempted kiss.

The embarrassment was overwhelming. Not just about last night, but about what it revealed about me. How much I’d let him matter. How much I’d built my happiness around stolen moments and imagined connections with someone who’d never asked for any of it.

“God, I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” I said, pulling my hand away from Sheena’s. “Getting this worked up over a guy.”

“You’re not pathetic. You’re human.”

“Same thing, apparently.”

“Saff—”

“No, seriously. Look at me. I’m sitting here analyzing every conversation we’ve ever had, wondering if I imagined the whole friendship, ready to skip school because things got awkward with a boy.” I laughed, but it came out bitter. “My parents raised me better than this.”

“Your parents didn’t raise you to be a robot. It’s okay to have feelings.”

“Not when those feelings make me look like this.” I gestured vaguely at myself—the dark circles under my eyes, the way I’d been picking at my cuticles, the general aura of defeat that seemed to be radiating from my entire being.

Sheena was quiet for a moment, and I could see her choosing her words carefully.

“You know what?” she said finally. “Forget him. Come sit with us sa class if you want para ’di na kayo tabi ni Milo. James was asking about you yesterday—he thinks you’re cute.”

“James?” I asked, a bit confused.

“Yeah. And he’s not emotionally unavailable and mysterious. He’s nice, he’s smart, he actually shows interest when he likes someone.”

The suggestion should have been flattering. James was cute, and he’d always been friendly to me in class. But the idea of trying to be interested in someone else, of pretending I didn’t care about Milo, felt exhausting.

“I’m not really in a dating headspace right now,” I said.

“I’m not talking about dating. I’m talking about remembering that there are other people in the world who might actually appreciate you.”

“Right. Okay.”

But even as I said it, I knew I’d spend the entire lunch period looking around for Milo, hoping for some sign that things weren’t completely ruined between us.

Because apparently, that’s who I was now.

---

When I walked into Constitutional Law that evening, my stomach was in knots. I’d spent the entire day mentally rehearsing different scenarios for how this might go. Would Milo act like nothing happened? Would he be cold and distant? Would he try to address what had happened between us?

He was already there when I arrived, sitting in his usual general area, reading something in his textbook. For a split second, our eyes met across the room, and I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach—followed immediately by a wave of nausea as I remembered why that flutter was now completely inappropriate.

He looked away first.

I stood there for a moment, debating where to sit. The logical thing would be to take the seat next to him, like I had been doing lately. Like friends would do.

But I couldn’t. The thought of sitting that close to him, of pretending everything was normal when I could still feel the ghost of how close we’d been last night, was unbearable.

Instead, I walked over and sat one seat away from him, reinstating the buffer zone we’d had before our friendship contract. Before I’d gone and ruined everything by developing feelings and acting on them.

If Milo noticed the change—and he had to have noticed—he didn’t comment on it. He just kept his eyes on his textbook, as if I didn’t exist.

Which hurt more than it should have.

I pulled out my own materials and tried to focus on preparing for class, but I was hyperaware of his presence just one seat away. I could see him from my peripheral vision, the familiar way he held his pen, the neat handwriting I’d once complimented.

The silence between us felt loaded, heavy with everything we weren’t saying.

“Good evening,” Sir announced, walking into the room with his usual no-nonsense energy.

I tried to focus on taking notes, but my mind kept drifting. Was Milo thinking about last night, too? Was he regretting our friendship? Was he planning to go back to completely ignoring me like he had at the beginning of the semester?

Ano ba ang nasa isip niya?

“Delgado,” biglang pagtawag ni Sir. “ Philippine Rabbit Bus Lines, Inc. v. People ?“

Milo stood up smoothly, and I found myself watching him despite my best efforts not to. He looked perfectly composed, completely unaffected by the tension radiating from me.

“In the case of Philippine Rabbit Bus Lines, Inc. v. People, the employer argued that they were deprived of due process when denied the right to appeal independently of their convicted employee, Sir. They claimed their subsidiary liability should be subject to separate constitutional protections.”

His voice was steady, professional.

Like nothing had changed.

Ako lang naman iyong apektado.

“And how did the Supreme Court address this due process claim?”

“The Court held that due process was not violated because the employer had participated in the criminal proceedings and was adequately represented. The Court emphasized that the right to appeal is not a natural right nor part of due process—it’s merely a procedural remedy of statutory origin.”

“That will do,” Sir said. He shuffled again… and of course—“Borromeo, do you agree with the Court’s interpretation of due process in this context?”

I stood up, my heart beating faster than it should have been. This was just class discussion. Academic debate. The same thing we’d been doing for months.

But somehow, with Milo sitting right there, every word felt loaded.

“I respectfully disagree with the Court’s reasoning, Sir.”

I felt rather than saw Milo turn to look at me.

“On what grounds?”

“While the Court correctly states that appeal is not a constitutional right, the due process clause requires that parties with substantial interests in a case be given meaningful opportunity to be heard. The employer’s subsidiary liability creates a direct financial stake that should warrant independent procedural protections.”

“Interesting. Delgado, care to respond?”

Agad na kumunot ang noo ko. What the fuck? Kailan pa kailangan ng opinyon ng classmate ko tungkol sa sagot ko sa recit?

Milo was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was carefully neutral. “Ms. Borromeo’s interpretation expands due process beyond its constitutional bounds. The employer’s liability is derivative—dependent entirely on the employee’s conviction. To grant independent appeal rights would essentially allow parties to circumvent the finality of judgments through subsidiary claims.”

I chewed on my lower lip.

Fine.

Pwede naman siguro akong sumagot—recit naman ’to.

“But that’s exactly my point,” I countered, surprising myself with the edge in my voice. “Constitutional protections shouldn’t be diminished simply because one party’s interest is derivative. If we allow procedural rights to be limited based on the nature of liability, we’re essentially creating a hierarchy of constitutional protection.”

“The Constitution guarantees equal protection under law, not identical procedural treatment for fundamentally different legal positions. The employer’s subsidiary liability serves a specific purpose—ensuring victim compensation—not creating independent parties with full procedural rights.”

“At the cost of meaningful due process protections,” I quickly shot back.

As the words left my mouth, I realized how they might sound. How the concept of being denied meaningful protection and having interests dismissed might resonate in a context that had nothing to do with Constitutional Law.

Milo was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Not the admiring look he’d sometimes given me during our past academic sparring sessions, but something more intense. Almost searching. Like he was trying to figure something out.

“Borromeo,” Sir interjected, “are you suggesting the Court should have created new procedural rights for subsidiary parties?”

Huminga ako nang malalim. I fisted my hands. I should focus on the case I was reciting. “I’m suggesting that due process requires meaningful participation for all parties with substantial interests, Sir. The Constitution’s protection shouldn’t be weakened by the technical classification of one’s legal standing.”

As I sat down, I caught Milo still looking at me, that strange expression on his face. There was something almost… knowing in his gaze. Like my arguments about meaningful protection and not being dismissed based on technical classifications had struck some deeper chord.

For a moment, I thought he might say something—address the tension between us, acknowledge that something had shifted.

But he just turned back to his notes, and the moment passed.

The rest of the discussion continued around us, but I could barely focus. The energy between us felt different. Not hostile, exactly, but charged. Like we were debating something far more personal than constitutional interpretation.

Like we were strangers who somehow knew each other’s secrets.

---

After class, I packed my things slowly, hoping Milo might linger, might give me some indication of where we stood. But he gathered his materials efficiently and headed for the door without so much as a glance in my direction.

Fine, whatever.

As if naman required kaming sabay lumabas ng classroom.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the empty seat beside me—the buffer seat I’d deliberately chosen. It felt symbolic somehow. Like I’d literally put distance between us when what I really wanted was to close it.

But I’d lost that right when I’d tried to kiss him.

Guilt gnawed at my stomach as I finally gathered my things and headed out. This wasn’t his fault. He’d agreed to be my friend, nothing more. I was the one who’d developed feelings and made things weird. I was the one who’d almost kissed him without knowing if he wanted me to.

He didn’t owe me romance just because we’d become friends.

But he also didn’t owe me this cold distance, did he? Couldn’t we at least acknowledge what had happened and move past it?

Kasi mas lalo lang magiging awkward if we’ll both pretend that nothing happened… kahit wala naman talaga.

I found myself walking toward the smoking area, drawn by habit and the desperate hope that maybe we could find our way back to normal. That maybe I could apologize for making things awkward and we could pretend last night never happened.

Milo was there, as I’d known he would be, but something was different about the way he was smoking. It looked almost ritualistic—the way he held the cigarette, the deliberate timing of each drag, like he was following some internal rhythm only he understood.

There was something melancholy about his posture, something that made him look younger and older at the same time.

“Hi,” I said softly, approaching the bench.

He glanced up at me, his expression guarded. He didn’t even say hi or anything. Naka-tingin lang siya sa akin. Fine. Maybe I deserved that.

“Can I…?” I gestured to the other end of the bench.

He shrugged, which I took as permission.

I sat down, leaving plenty of space between us, and tried to think of how to begin. How do you apologize for feelings you can’t control? How do you ask someone to forget that you almost kissed them?

The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren’t saying.

“About last night—” I started finally.

“You were drunk,” he said quickly, cutting me off. His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. “It’s fine.”

But it didn’t sound fine. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as me.

“I know, but I wanted to—”

“You don’t remember anyway, right?”

The question hung in the air between us. He was giving me an out. A way to pretend it never happened, to salvage whatever was left of our friendship.

I should take it. It would be easier for both of us.

“Right,” I said quietly, hating myself for the lie. “I don’t remember.”

“Good.”

But the way he said it—clipped, almost relieved—made my chest tighten with hurt. Was the idea of me wanting to kiss him really that terrible? Was our friendship so fragile that even the suggestion of something more would destroy it?

We sat in silence, the smoke from his cigarette creating a barrier between us.

“Are we okay?” I asked finally, unable to stand the tension anymore.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

The casual indifference in his voice was like a slap. After everything we’d shared—the late-night texts, the pares dinner, the moments when I’d thought we were really connecting—he could just switch it off like that?

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. “You just seem… different.”

“I’m the same as always.”

But he wasn’t. There was a coldness in his voice that hadn’t been there before, a wall that seemed to have gone up overnight.

“Is it because of what I said in class? Iyong sa recit?”

Milo took a long drag of his cigarette, and I watched the smoke curl around his face.

“You argued your position,” he said finally. “That’s what we do.”

“It felt different though. More…”

“More what?”

“I don’t know. Intense.”

“Did it?” He looked at me directly for the first time since I’d sat down, and there was something in his eyes I couldn’t read. “Maybe you’re just more aware of it now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

But I couldn’t forget it. There had been something in the way he’d said it, like there was a deeper meaning I was missing.

“Milo, if I did something—”

“You didn’t do anything.” His voice was final, cutting off any further discussion. “We’re good, Saffron. Everything’s fine.”

But everything wasn’t fine. The way he said my name was different—formal, distant. Like we were acquaintances instead of friends who texted each other daily and sat together in class.

“So we’re just going to pretend nothing happened?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Nothing did happen,” he said, crushing his cigarette under his foot with more force than necessary. “You were drunk, you don’t remember, and now we’re back to normal.”

“Cool,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Got it.”

He stood up, brushing ash off his clothes. “I should go. Early morning tomorrow.”

“Right. Of course.”

But as I watched him walk away, I felt something crack inside my chest. Not just disappointment, but genuine hurt. We’d built something over the past few weeks—tentative and fragile, maybe, but real. And he was willing to throw it all away rather than acknowledge that last night had meant something.

Even if it hadn’t meant what I’d hoped.

I sat there alone in the smoking area, breathing in the lingering scent of his cigarette and trying not to cry.

Because this was what I got for breaking the rules. For letting myself believe that friendship could be enough when what I really wanted was so much more.

And now I had neither.

This story is already at Chapter 32 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 21

I stared at my phone for the third time that morning, reading Maya’s text about their impromptu Cebu trip.

‘Last minute beach getaway! Flying out tonight. You sure you can’t come? We miss you, Saffie our future lawyer!’

I’d already declined twice. Law school was consuming my life, I’d told them. Too much studying, too many responsibilities. The truth was messier—I’d been too wrapped up in my own drama to even consider taking a break.

But sitting in my room on a Saturday morning, still replaying Friday night’s disaster with Milo for the hundredth time, I realized something that made my stomach clench with embarrassment.

When was the last time I’d done something that wasn’t about law school?

When was the last time I’d hung out with people who knew me before I became this anxious, competitive version of myself?

More importantly—when was the last time I’d gone a full day without thinking about Milo Delgado?

The answer was pathetic.

I grabbed my phone and typed quickly before I could change my mind.

‘Where’s the accommodation nga? Will book a flight and follow you guys!!! Miss you!’

---

“Saffron Rose Borromeo!” Maya screamed when she saw me sa may hotel lobby. Napa-tingin tuloy sa amin iyong ibang guests. “I cannot believe you actually came!”

Neither did I!

When I decided to enrol in law school, I kind of accepted na na doon iikot ang buhay ko. Although I did promise myself before na I’ll balance school and outside school stuff, still, it’s hard. Gusto ko kasi talaga ng mataas na grades—non-negotiable ko ’yon.

But I guess I had to make adjustments kasi feel ko mababaliw ako kung sa school lang talaga iikot ang buhay ko.

“I can’t believe it either,” I said, letting myself be engulfed in hugs from my college friends. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe properly. I like my newfound law school friends but… we’re not there yet. I hope one day, magiging super close ko rin sila. But to get there, I knew that I needed to exert effort din. After all, friendship is a two-way street.

Ashley pulled back to look at me. “You look stressed, babe. Like, really stressed.”

“Law school,” I said simply, which was partially true.

“Well, good thing we’re kidnapping you for the weekend,” Kris announced, linking her arm through mine. “No law books, no case digests, no thinking about boring legal stuff.”

If only she knew that the ‘boring legal stuff’ was the least of my problems.

---

The weekend was exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

We spent Saturday on the beach in Bantayan Island, the kind of perfect white sand paradise that made you forget Manila existed. I let the sun warm my skin until I was properly tanned, something I never allowed myself during the school year because I was always rushing from air-conditioned library to air-conditioned classroom.

“Remember when you used to be fun?” Maya asked, flopping down beside me on the sand. “Before you became super serious law student Saffie?”

“I’m still fun,” I protested.

“When was the last time you went out? Like, really went out?”

I thought about the club night that had ended in disaster. “Recently, actually.”

“And?”

“It was… complicated,” I replied, sighing in the process.

“Guy complicated or life complicated?”

“Both.”

Maya studied my face. “Want to talk about it?”

For a moment, I considered telling her everything. About Milo, about the almost-kiss, about how I’d been building my entire emotional life around someone who could barely tolerate my existence.

But then I realized something that hit me like a physical blow—I was ashamed.

Not of having feelings for him, but of how completely I’d lost myself in those feelings. How I’d gone from being confident, independent Saffie to someone who spent hours analyzing text messages and spraying cologne on pillows—like a fucking creep.

“Nah,” I said finally. “I’m good. This weekend is about having fun.”

And for the rest of Saturday, I did exactly that.

We swam in the sea, ate entirely too much seafood, and danced at a beach bar until 4AM. I flirted with a cute guy from Davao who bought me drinks and told me I had a beautiful smile. I didn’t think about law school once.

Most importantly, I didn’t think about Milo.

Sunday was more of the same—sun, sand, and the kind of carefree fun I’d forgotten I was capable of having. As I watched the sunset from our resort balcony, I felt something shift inside me.

This was who I used to be. Someone who could enjoy herself without overthinking every interaction. Someone who had friends who loved her, who could laugh until her stomach hurt, who didn’t need anyone’s validation to feel good about herself.

Somewhere along the way, I’d let law school—and one frustratingly complicated guy—make me forget that.

“You look better,” Kris observed, joining me on the balcony. “More like yourself.”

“I feel better,” I admitted with a genuine smile. “I think I needed this reminder.”

“Reminder of what?”

“That there’s more to life than… you know. The things I’ve been stressing about.”

“Good,” she said, squeezing my shoulder. “Because you’re Saffron fucking Borromeo. You don’t need to stress about anything.”

She was right.

I am Saffron Borromeo. Daughter of two successful lawyers, academic achiever, someone who’d never had trouble making friends or achieving her goals. I’d let a few months of law school drama make me forget who I am.

But not anymore.

---

Monday morning arrived with the jarring reality of having to return to Manila. Our flight landed at 4PM, so I decided to just screw it and dumiretso na ako sa school. Super nahilo ako on the ride to school, but I pushed through dahil sayang iyong time na pwede naman akong magbasa. I mean, whatever. I chose to spend my weekend having fun, so I deserve na mahilo kaka-review while in the plane and now, dito sa car ride papunta sa school.

I probably should have skipped class— probably . I hadn’t reviewed anything over the weekend, hadn’t even looked at my class group chat once! Wala akong alam sa mangyayari ngayon, and that was pretty reckless of me. For the first time since starting law school, I was going to class completely unprepared.

Strangely, I wasn’t panicking about it—I mean, kinda but… the old me would have been in full crisis mode, frantically trying to read all the case digests in the car. But weekend-in-Cebu me just… couldn’t bring myself to care that much.

One weekend of not being perfectly prepared wasn’t going to destroy my academic career—I needed to repeatedly remind myself of that. And if it did, then maybe my priorities were more messed up than I’d thought.

Baka kailangan ko na siguro ng therapy because honestly, I refuse to go on like this.

I walked into the campus with my skin still warm from the Cebu sun, wearing a sundress instead of my usual formal blouse and slacks. Nagpadala na lang ako sa driver ng blazer na mamaya ko na isusuot because I was still kind of sunburnt. My hair was in loose waves from the beach, and I could see the tan lines on my shoulders.

I looked like someone who’d had a life outside these walls.

“Saffron!” Sheena called out loudly as I approached our usual section. “Who was that guy in your IG story?!”

I blinked, confused. “What guy?”

“The one from your beach trip! He was so cute! Spill!”

Oh. Right. Maya had posted stories all weekend, tagging all of us, so I reposted a few. I vaguely remembered the guy from Davao—Leon?—appearing in some group photos.

I could see what Sheena was doing. Making a public show of asking about other guys, probably hoping Milo would overhear. The same way she’d pushed me to dance with that random guy at the club.

“It’s not—” I started, then stopped myself.

Actually, why was I correcting her? Why was I so quick to shut down any suggestion that I might be interested in someone else?

“His name’s Leon… I think,” I said instead, loud enough for nearby classmates to hear. “He’s a doctor in Davao… I think.” Hindi ako makapagbigay ng diretsong sagot simply because the whole weekend was a blur.

Sheena’s eyes lit up with approval. A few other blockmates gathered around, asking about my weekend, complimenting my tan, making the kind of friendly conversation I’d been missing.

I found myself actually enjoying it. Not because I was trying to make anyone jealous, but because it felt good to be social again. To remember that I could have normal interactions with my classmates.

“Bathroom,” I told Sheena after a few minutes, needing to escape before the conversation went too deep into fabricated details about Leon—kasi nga wala naman akong maalala na details about him! I was like drunk the whole time.

She followed me, as I’d known she would.

“So?” she asked the moment we were alone in the CR. “Leon the doctor? Tell me everything.”

“Sheena,” I said, checking my reflection in the mirror. The tan really did make me look healthier, happier. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Do what?”

“The whole ‘let’s make other guys interested in Saffie’ thing. It’s sweet, but I’m fine.”

“Are you though? Because last week you looked like—”

“Like a pathetic mess pining over a guy who doesn’t want me. I know.” I turned to face her directly. “But that was last week. This week, I’m remembering that I don’t actually need anyone’s validation to feel good about myself.”

Sheena studied my face. “You do look different.”

“I had a good weekend. I remembered that there’s more to life than law school drama.”

“And more to life than Milo?”

I hesitated for just a moment. “Yeah. More to life than Milo.”

It wasn’t entirely true—I couldn’t just flip a switch and stop caring about him. But it wasn’t entirely false either. The weekend had reminded me that I was capable of happiness that had nothing to do with him.

“Good,” Sheena said. “Because you deserve someone who’s sure about wanting you.”

“I deserve a lot of things,” I agreed.

But mostly, I deserve to stop making my happiness dependent on other people.

---

When we got back to the classroom, I took my usual seat—still maintaining the buffer zone I’d established Friday. I wasn’t ready to pretend everything was normal between Milo and me, but I also wasn’t going to keep torturing myself by sitting next to him.

I pulled out my Constitutional Law textbook and tried to do a quick review before class started. I’d read the assigned cases before the weekend, but the details were fuzzy after two days of beach-induced brain fog.

“What?”

I looked up to find Milo staring at me with an unreadable expression.

“What, what?” I replied, genuinely confused. Gets ko na siya. Nakakainis nga pala talaga kapag naka-tingin sa ’yo tapos walang sinasabi like, ano ba’ng kailangan mo?

“You look…” He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Different.”

“Different how?”

“Tanned. You went somewhere.”

It wasn’t really a question, more like an observation. But there was something in his tone that suggested he wanted an explanation.

The old me would have immediately wondered how he knew, would have been secretly pleased that he’d noticed, would have read too much into his interest.

The new me—or rather, the me I was trying to remember how to be—just answered the question.

“Cebu. Beach trip with college friends.”

“Nice. Buti may time ka. Akala ko nag-aaral ka lang palagi.”

I scoffed. “I know. It was a last-minute decision.”

He was still looking at me with that strange expression, like he was trying to figure something out. What? I was trying to have a normal conversation! Ganito naman talaga ako makipag-usap—swerte pa nga siya hindi ko siya sinusungitan. Medyo masungit daw kaya ako sabi ni Sage—in my defense, sa kanya lang naman ata because he could be annoying at times.

“Why?” I added, raising an eyebrow. “Is that against school policy?”

“No, it’s just…” He stopped himself, shook his head slightly. “Never mind.”

I wanted to ask what he’d been about to say. The old me would have pushed, would have tried to analyze what his concern might mean.

Instead, I just shrugged and went back to my reading.

If Milo wanted to tell me something, he could use his words. I was done trying to decode every glance and half-finished sentence.

---

Class proceeded normally. For once, I found myself genuinely focused on the legal concepts rather than being distracted by Milo’s presence.

When recitation time came, I held my breath out of habit, preparing for my name to be called.

It wasn’t.

For the second class in a row, I made it through without having to stand up and demonstrate my knowledge. Under normal circumstances, this would have made me paranoid. Was our professor avoiding calling on me? Had my academic reputation been damaged somehow?

Today, though, I was mostly relieved. I knew the material well enough to participate if called, but I also knew I wasn’t at my sharpest. The weekend had been worth it, even if it meant being slightly less prepared than usual.

After class ended, I packed my things quickly. I was exhausted—the weekend had been fun but not exactly restful, and the afternoon flight (plus the whole travel from the island) was catching up with me.

“Uuwi ka na?” Sheena asked.

“Yeah, I’m beat. Super tired from the flight.”

“Want to grab dinner first? We’re going to that Korean place near—”

“Rain check?” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “I really need to sleep.”

“Sure. Sama ka na lang next time.”

“Definitely,” I replied with a small smile.

As I walked toward the parking lot, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. Not because anything had been resolved with Milo, but because I’d reminded myself that my life didn’t have to revolve around unresolved tension with him.

I had friends who wanted to spend time with me. I was capable of having fun without overthinking every moment. I could be happy on my own terms.

As I settled into the backseat of the car, I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes. For the first time in weeks, I felt genuinely at peace.

No phone buzzing with texts I’d overanalyze. No wondering what Milo was thinking or doing. No push and pull games that left me feeling more confused than before.

Just quiet.

And it felt good.

---

When I got home, I headed straight for my room, dropping my bags and kicking off my shoes. I felt like I could sleep for twelve hours straight. Bukas na ako magpapakita sa pamilya ko na nagulat din nung bigla akong magsabi na pupunta ako sa Cebu. They should be fine—not the first time I did that.

After taking a long shower, I remembered that there was something I needed to do.

I stripped the sheets off my bed, including the pillowcase that still held the faint scent of Milo’s cologne—the cologne I’d borrowed from Sage in a moment of pathetic desperation.

The smell that had once been comforting now just reminded me of how far I’d let myself fall into this mess.

I bundled everything into the laundry hamper and put on fresh sheets. Clean, neutral-smelling sheets that belonged to me and only me.

As I was smoothing out the new pillowcase, my phone buzzed.

’ Article 1’

I stared at the message for a long moment. Of course. The friendship contract. Our daily communication requirement.

Even after the cold distance, even after shutting down every attempt I’d made to address what happened between us, he was still going to invoke our ridiculous agreement like it was some kind of legal obligation.

The old me would have immediately texted back, grateful for any acknowledgment of our friendship, any sign that he still wanted to maintain some connection.

But lying there on my fresh, Milo-free sheets, I realized something important—I didn’t owe him a response just because we’d made some ridiculous agreement when I was desperate to maintain any connection to him.

I wasn’t desperate anymore.

I was still hurt, still confused about what had happened between us. But I wasn’t going to let that hurt turn me into someone who settled for breadcrumbs of attention from someone who couldn’t decide what he wanted from me.

I set my phone aside without responding and closed my eyes.

Tomorrow, I’d go back to being the version of myself I’d rediscovered in Cebu. Confident, social, focused on building the law school friendships I’d originally wanted instead of obsessing over one complicated guy who couldn’t give me a straight answer about anything.

I am Saffron Rose Borromeo, and I deserved better than this push-and-pull nonsense.

Starting tomorrow, I am going to act like it.

This story is already at Chapter 33 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 22

I stood in front of my closet Tuesday morning, surveying my new purchases from yesterday’s shopping spree with Sage. Dark academia aesthetic, the sales lady had called it when I’d described what I was going for. Structured blazers, high-waisted trousers, knit vests, and the pièce de résistance—dark-rimmed glasses that I definitely didn’t need but somehow made me feel more put-together.

“Naubos pera ko,” Sage said when he saw me bago ako umalis papunta sa school. He’s eating his… I guess his staple meal—cornflake cereals.

“You know, what’s the sense of having money if hindi mo gagastusin, right?”

“Pera mo?”

“We’re twins—what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine only,” I said as I stuck my tongue at him. He slowly shook his head like he couldn’t believe my audacity. What? He doesn’t spend a lot! Sayang naman ’yung money! I was so willing to spend it for him!

I’d forced him to go with me sa mall kasi siya lang naman ang available na kasama ko—and honestly, I needed someone to drag me out of my room. The shopping had been therapeutic in a way I hadn’t expected. Not because I was trying to reinvent myself, but because I was finally investing in looking like the version of myself I wanted to be.

Confident. Put-together. Someone who had her life figured out.

I settled on a black knit sweater with a subtle collar detail, paired with cream-colored wide-leg trousers that hit just above my ankles. The dark-rimmed glasses completed the look—very ‘serious law student who has her life together.’ I’d even styled my hair in a low, neat bun that felt both professional and effortless.

As I got ready, I found myself actually looking forward to school. Not because of any particular person or drama, but because I had plans with Sheena and the others after class. Real plans, with people who seemed genuinely happy to include me.

For the first time in months, school felt like it could be about more than just surviving until graduation.

---

“Love the new look!” Sheena exclaimed when she saw me approaching our usual classroom. She was surrounded by Rica, James, and a few other blockmates, everyone chatting animatedly about something.

“Thanks,” I said, adjusting my glasses self-consciously. “Thought I’d try something new.”

“Very university student abroad vibes,” Rica added with a grin. “Parang yung mga naka-scholarship sa Harvard.”

“That was what I was going for!” I replied, laughing. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I was part of their conversation instead of hovering awkwardly at the edges.

“Where did you shop?” Sheena asked, reaching out to touch the fabric of my vest. “I love this style.”

“Greenbelt! I’ll send you later the name of the shop,” I excitedly shared. I love sharing where the good shopping spots are.

“You look great, Saff,” Jame suddenly said while I was in the middle of talking to Sheena and the girls about the shopping I did.

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to read too much into the compliment. James was nice—really nice—but I wasn’t ready to think about anything romantic right now. I was still in recovery mode from my last disaster.

“Grabe, ang dami kong readings hindi ko pa natatapos,” Rica groaned, pulling out her phone to check the time. “May quiz ba ngayon?”

“No news from other class,” Sheena replied. “Pero recit for sure. Lagi namang may recit.”

I glanced toward the door and saw Milo walking in, looking as composed as always. Our eyes met for a brief second, and I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach—but it was smaller now, more manageable. Like an old injury that only ached when the weather changed.

“I’ll just go sit na,” I told the group, gathering my things.

“See you later!” Sheena called out. “Korean restaurant pa rin tayo, right?”

“Yup,” I replied, meaning it.

As I walked toward my usual seat, I noticed Milo was already there, reading something in his notebook. I took my spot—still maintaining the buffer seat between us—and pulled out my Constitutional Law materials.

“Hi,” I said casually as I settled in.

He looked up, seeming slightly surprised by the greeting. “Hi.”

“Ready for today’s mental torture?” I asked, gesturing toward the stack of cases we’d been assigned.

He gave a small shrug. “As if may choice.”

It was such a normal exchange. The kind of casual pre-class banter I might have with any classmate. And somehow, that felt like progress.

The old me would have been analyzing every word, every facial expression, looking for hidden meaning. But this version of me—the one who’d remembered who she was during a weekend in Cebu—just appreciated that we could talk without the weird tension that had been suffocating us both.

He wasn’t the first guy I’d had a crush on. He wouldn’t be the last. Life would go on.

I am going to be fine.

---

“Delgado,” Sir called out during recitation, and I watched as Milo stood up with his usual composed confidence.

My palms were slightly sweaty, but not with the usual panic I felt during recit time. I’d studied the assigned cases thoroughly last night—old habits die hard, and studying was still part of who I am. But I wasn’t obsessing over every detail the way I used to—I mean… I was still obsessing. I try my best to reign it in, though. I was trying to figure out how to obsess over my grades in a ‘healthy’ manner.

If I got called on, I’d handle it. If I didn’t know something perfectly, I’d admit it and move on. The world wouldn’t end—paulit-ulit na sinasabi ko sa sarili ko.“

“Explain the Supreme Court’s ruling in Salumbides v. Ombudsman regarding the accountability of public officers,” Sir said.

“The Supreme Court held that the Constitution mandates accountability for all public officers and employees, Sir,” Milo began, his voice steady and clear. “In this case, the Court emphasized that public office is a public trust, and public officers must be accountable to the people at all times. The Court ruled that the failure to hold public officers accountable violates the constitutional principle that public office is a public trust under Section 1, Article XI.”

“And what specific constitutional provisions did the Court invoke to establish this accountability framework?”

“The Court primarily relied on Section 1, Article XI, which declares that public office is a public trust, and Section 2 of the same article, which mandates that public officers must serve with responsibility and integrity, Sir. The Court also referenced Article II, Section 27, which adopts the policy of full public disclosure for transactions involving public interest.”

Sir just nodded.

As Milo sat down, I found myself nodding slightly. He really was brilliant—there was no denying that. His answers were always precise, comprehensive, and delivered with the kind of confidence that came from thorough preparation. Nagcite pa ng Articles. Tss. Show-off.

“Borromeo,” Professor Santos said suddenly, and I felt my heart skip. “Explain the Court’s ruling in Lecaros v. Sandiganbayan regarding crimes in relation to public office.”

I stood up, took a breath, and organized my thoughts. This was one of the cases I’d read carefully last night. Okay. Kaya ko ’to.

“The Supreme Court held that for a crime to be considered ‘in relation to office,’ there must be an intimate connection between the offense charged and the discharge of official duties, Sir,” I began. “In Lecaros, the Court established that the offense must be committed by a public officer while performing, or in relation to, his official functions. The Court ruled that mere coincidence of time between the commission of the crime and the performance of official duties is insufficient.”

“And what test did the Court apply to determine this ‘intimate connection’?”

“The Court applied a two-pronged test, Sir. First, the offense must be committed by a public officer. Second, the offense must have been committed in relation to his office—meaning there must be such an intimate connection between the offense and the officer’s discharge of duty that the former cannot be separated from the latter. The Court emphasized that the relationship between the office and the offense must be direct and not merely incidental. The distinction between crimes committed by public officers and crimes in relation to public office is crucial in determining jurisdiction.”

As I sat down, I realized I felt… normal. Competent but not perfect. Prepared but not obsessive. It was a strange but welcome feeling.

I caught Milo glancing at me with what looked like mild surprise, as if he hadn’t expected me to handle the question so smoothly. For a moment, I wondered what he was thinking, then deliberately redirected my attention to Sir’s next question.

His opinion of my academic performance was no longer the most important thing in my world.

---

After class, I was packing my things when I heard Sheena’s voice behind me.

“Korean restaurant tayo!” she announced to the general vicinity. “Sama na kayong lahat. I’m craving kimchi jjigae.”

“Sama ako,” James said immediately.

“Ako rin,” Rica added. “Pero split the bill ha. Wala akong pera.”

“Yes, let’s go!” I said, pretty excited kasi ito ’yung first dinner ko with the block na okay na talaga kami.

“Saff, finally!” Sheena exclaimed. “First time mo sumama sa group dinner namin.”

“I know, I’ve been antisocial. Sorry about that.”

“Better late than never,” James said with that smile again.

I was about to respond when I heard another voice behind us.

“May space pa ba?”

We all turned to see Milo standing a few feet away, looking slightly awkward but determined.

The surprise on everyone’s faces was obvious. Milo never joined group activities. He was friendly enough in class, but he always disappeared immediately afterward. I mean, he was the one who did say na he’s okay with being an ‘outsider.’

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Sheena said, recovering first. “The more the merrier.”

“Cool,” he said simply, but I caught him looking at me as if gauging my reaction.

I kept my expression neutral. If he wanted to join our dinner, that was fine. It didn’t have anything to do with me.

But even as I thought it, I couldn’t help wondering what had prompted this sudden interest in socializing. Milo didn’t do things without a reason.

---

The Korean restaurant was loud and warm, filled with the scent of grilled meat and fermented vegetables. We’d managed to snag a large table in the back, and I found myself sitting between Sheena and Rica, with James directly across from me.

Milo had taken a seat at the far end of the table, close enough to participate in conversation but far enough away that we wouldn’t have to interact directly.

“Okay, so spill,” Sheena said once we’d ordered. “How was Cebu really? And I want details about this Leon guy.”

I laughed, taking a sip of my water. “Honestly? It was mostly a blur. We were drunk half the time.”

“The best kind of vacation,” Rica said approvingly.

“And Leon?” James asked, and I thought I detected something in his tone—curiosity mixed with something else.

“He was sweet,” I said truthfully. “But it was just vacation flirting, you know? Nothing serious.”

“Sayang,” Sheena said dramatically. “Doctor pa naman.”

“I’m not really looking for anything serious right now,” I admitted. “Law school is complicated enough.”

“Agreed,” James said, but his smile suggested he might be filing that information away for later.

As the conversation flowed around the table, I found myself genuinely enjoying the dynamics. Rica was hilarious, making dry observations about our professors that had us all laughing. James was charming without being pushy, asking thoughtful questions and remembering details from previous conversations.

And Milo… Milo was quieter than usual, contributing to the conversation when directly addressed but mostly observing. I caught him looking at me a few times, his expression unreadable.

“Saff, you should come with us to that new study cafe this weekend,” Rica suggested as we waited for our food. “They have those aesthetic private rooms na perfect for Instagram.”

“I’m in,” I said without hesitation. “I need new study spots anyway. Nakaka-boring na yung library.”

“Great! Group study session it is,” Sheena said. “James, Milo, kayo?”

“Sounds good,” James replied quickly.

“I’ll think about it,” Milo said, which was probably his version of a polite decline.

When the food arrived, the conversation shifted to safer topics—upcoming deadlines, professor quirks, complaints about the law school’s WiFi. I found myself relaxing completely for the first time in weeks.

This was what I’d wanted when I’d started law school. Friends to eat with, people to study with, a sense of belonging somewhere.

It had just taken me a while to remember that I was capable of building this for myself.

---

About halfway through dinner, James leaned forward and caught my attention.

“That vest really suits you,” he said quietly, while the others were debating whether to order dessert.

“Thanks,” I replied, adjusting my glasses. “I’m going for distinguished law student vibes.”

“Mission accomplished,” he said with a grin.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks—not because I was particularly attracted to James, but because it had been a while since someone had flirted with me so openly. It was… nice. Uncomplicated.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I said lightly.

“Good to know,” he replied, and I caught Sheena watching our exchange with barely concealed glee.

From the corner of my eye, I also noticed Milo’s jaw tighten slightly, though his expression remained neutral.

Interesting.

But whatever.

---

After dinner, we all walked out to the parking area together. Nauna na iyong iba. I was still waiting for my driver, but James offered to drop me off.

“I’m waiting for my driver,” I said, checking my phone for updates.

“I’ll wait with you,” Milo said suddenly, and everyone else looked slightly surprised.

“Oh,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. “Okay.”

“Text us when you get home!” Sheena called out as she climbed into her car. “And think about this weekend!”

“Will do!” I replied, waving as they drove off.

And then it was just me and Milo, standing in the parking lot under the fluorescent lights.

“So,” I said after a moment of silence. “That was fun.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “How was Cebu?” he asked again.

“Super fun,” I honestly replied.

“Good.”

We fell into silence again, but it wasn’t as awkward as I’d expected. Maybe because I wasn’t trying to fill every quiet moment with conversation or analysis.

“Milo,” I said finally. “About what happened at the club…”

I saw him tense slightly. “Saffron—”

“No, let me say this,” I interrupted gently. “I think we should address it so we can move forward properly.”

He was quiet, waiting.

“I was drunk, and I was having a hard time, and I made things weird between us,” I said simply. “But I’m good now. And I think we can really be friends without all the weirdness.”

“You don’t need to—”

“I want to,” I said firmly. “You were my first real friend here, and I don’t want to lose that over my own drama.”

Milo looked at me for a long moment, something shifting in his expression.

“You’re not losing anything,” he said quietly. “And it wasn’t all your fault.”

“Maybe not, but I’m taking responsibility for my part. Clean slate?”

“Clean slate,” he agreed, and I thought I saw relief in his eyes.

“Good.” I smiled at him—a genuine, uncomplicated smile. “So how are your classes going? Still getting the highest grades?”

“Most of the time,” he said, and I caught the hint of a smile. “Competition is getting tougher though.”

“Good thing you like a challenge,” I replied with a small grin.

“Challenge? What challenge?” he said in an annoying way.

I frowned at him. “Excuse me, mas mataas iyong recit ko sa ’yo kanina.”

“In your dreams?”

“Nakita ko sa stroke ng pagsusulat ni Sir sa classcards natin. 75 binigay sa ’yo—pampalubag loob sa attendance mo.”

He smirked like he knew that there’s no way that was possible because he knew that his recit was solid. Tss.

My phone buzzed with a text from my driver saying he was five minutes away.

“My ride’s almost here,” I said.

“Okay.”

“You want na sumabay? We can drop you off on the way.”

Milo looked surprised by the offer, then shook his head. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure? It’s already late,” I said, glancing around the dimly lit parking lot. I was torn—I didn’t want to force him, but it was past 11PM and Manila at night could be unpredictable.

“I’m sure. Thanks though.”

“Okay,” I said, though part of me still felt weird about leaving him there. “Be safe.”

He just gave a small nod. When my car arrived, I gave him one last look. “Text when you get home? Just so I know you made it okay.”

He seemed surprised by the concern. “You don’t have to—”

“Friends look out for each other, right?”

A small smile crossed his face. “Right. I’ll text.”

As I got into the car, I pulled out my phone to check messages. Sheena had already sent photos from dinner to our group chat, along with commentary about how cute James and I looked together.

I rolled my eyes but found myself smiling. Having friends who cared enough to meddle in my love life was… sweet, actually.

About an hour later, my phone buzzed.

’ Home safe.’

’ Good. See you in class tomorrow.’

The old me would have spent the rest of the night analyzing that brief exchange, looking for hidden meaning in his willingness to text me.

The new me just settled back and started planning what to wear to the study cafe this weekend.

Because for the first time in months, I had better things to think about than Milo Delgado’s complicated feelings.

And it felt amazing.

This story is already at Chapter 34 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 23

“Thanks, Lulu!” I called out as I got out of the car in front of the study cafe. He frowned when I called him his nickname. It’s cute kaya! He’d been at our house playing video games with Sage when I mentioned my study session, and since he was heading to the same direction anyway, he offered to drop me off.

I was adjusting my bag when I heard the car window roll down behind me.

“Saff! Nahulog yung lipgloss mo,” Lucho called out, holding up my Charlotte Tilbury lipgloss.

“Oh, my god. Thank you!” I said, walking back to get it. That thing cost me a fortune—Sage’s fortune, but still. “I would’ve cried kung nawala ’to.”

As I leaned down to take the lipgloss from him, I caught sight of someone across the street. Milo was standing near the cafe entrance, his phone in hand, watching our interaction with an unreadable expression.

“Thanks again!” I told Lucho, waving as he drove off.

I turned toward the cafe and caught Milo’s eye. He looked like he’d been caught staring, but I pretended not to notice.

“Good morning!” I called out cheerfully as I crossed the street.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice neutral but his eyes taking in my outfit. I’d chosen a navy blue sleeveless vest with pearl-like buttons down the front, paired with a black pleated mini skirt that hit mid-thigh. The look was finished with white ankle socks and black pointed-toe flats—very preppy meets dark academia. I’d left my hair down in loose waves and kept my jewelry minimal with just a delicate chain necklace. Just to be safe, I brought a cardigan with me dahil baka lamigin ako habang nagrereview kami.

I just wanted to look cute, sue me. Ni hindi na nga ako nakaka-labas dahil sa sobrang busy sa school, so if there’s na opportunity to dress cutely, trust me, I’ll take it.

“Early ka rin,” I observed as we walked toward the cafe entrance together. What a weird coincidence na nasa labas din siya sakto na pagdating ko.

“Wanted to get here before the good spots were taken.”

“Smart. Though knowing our blockmates, we’ll probably end up fighting over who gets the aesthetic corner anyway.”

“You mean the corner na puro fairy lights and plants?”

Medyo kumunot ang noo ko. How did he know? Akala ko kakadating niya lang? Whatever. Maybe he checked it online sa very secret instagram account niya.

“Exactly. Very Instagrammable. Important for maintaining my dark academia aesthetic,” I said, gesturing to my outfit.

“Right. Can’t forget the aesthetic,” he said, and I caught a hint of amusement in his voice.

---

The study cafe was exactly as Instagram-perfect as Rica had promised. Exposed brick walls, vintage furniture, plants hanging from every corner, and soft jazz playing in the background. The kind of place that made you feel productive just by sitting there.

“Oh, my god, this place is so cute!” Sheena exclaimed as our group gathered around a large table near the window. She immediately started taking photos of the setup—our textbooks artfully arranged next to aesthetic coffee cups and scattered highlighters.

I started to take photos as well, but it didn’t take me long. I didn’t like very curated photos, anyway. Mas mahilig ako sa candid photos—also, I didn’t want to spend too long taking photos. Mas balak ko pa rin mag-aral—hence the big-ass bag that I brought kahit clash sa aesthetic ng outfit ko.

“Very Pinterest,” Rica agreed, already pulling out her ring light for better selfie lighting.

James had managed to secure the seat next to me and was being his usual helpful self—offering to share his color-coded highlighters, pushing the plate of cookies closer to my side of the table, making quiet observations about our Constitutional Law readings.

“This case is confusing,” he said, leaning slightly closer so I could see his notes. “Do you understand yung distinction sa jurisprudence na ’to?”

“Yeah, it’s tricky,” I replied, pulling my own notes closer. I began to explain to him the differences. Gets ko naman na nakaka-lito siya. It took me like three times reading the whole case bago ko fully na-grasp ’yung idea. Hindi ako tumigil hanggang hindi ko siya gets kasi baka bigla akong tanungin sa recit. I wanted to be able to explain this kahit lituhin pa ako ni Sir sa clarifying questions niya.

“Ah, that makes sense. Thanks, Saff.”

At the end of the table, Milo was quietly working through his own case digest, occasionally glancing up when our conversation got animated. He seemed focused on his own work, which was typical.

“Guys, order ulit tayo,” Sheena announced after we’d been studying for a few hours now. “I need more caffeine.”

“I’ll get everyone’s orders,” James offered, standing up and pulling out his phone to take notes. “What does everyone want?”

As he went around the table collecting orders, I found myself comparing him to Milo. James was definitely the safer choice—straightforward, clearly interested, easy to read. The kind of guy who would text back promptly and remember your coffee order and never make you wonder where you stood.

“Iced americano, extra shot,” I told him when he got to me.

“Got it. Milo?”

“Just black coffee.”

The moment James walked away to place our orders, Milo stood up and smoothly slid into the seat beside me.

“Hey,” he said casually, as if this were completely normal.

“Uh… hi,” I replied, slightly confused by the sudden move. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask you something.” He pulled his Constitutional Law textbook closer, flipping to a page marked with several sticky notes. “’Yung case sa recit mo. You mentioned something about the interplay between constitutional and statutory requirements that I wanted to clarify.”

I stared at him. We’d discussed this case extensively during the recitation, and I was pretty sure he’d understood it perfectly. In fact, he’d answered several follow-up questions about it without any trouble.

“Uh, sure,” I said, trying to figure out why he was asking about something he clearly already knew. “What specifically do you want me to clarify?” I asked him although I was kind of weirded out kasi super random ng tanong niya sa ’kin, but maybe nalilito lang talaga siya. Tss. He better admit that between the two of us, I was the better student.

As I started explaining the case again, I noticed that Milo was listening intently, nodding at appropriate intervals, but there was something in his eyes that suggested he was more interested in the conversation itself than in the legal concepts we were discussing.

When James returned with a tray of drinks, he stopped short when he saw that his seat was occupied.

“Oh,” he said, looking between Milo and his original spot.

Without missing a beat, Milo gathered James’ things—his highlighters, notebook, and the plate of cookies he’d been sharing with me—and handed them over with a pleasant smile.

“You can take my seat,” Milo said, gesturing toward the now-empty chair at the end of the table. “’Di pa kami tapos ni Saffron.”

James looked like he wanted to object, but making a scene in front of everyone would be awkward. He forced a smile and accepted his relocated belongings.

“Sure, no problem.”

As James settled into Milo’s former seat, I caught Sheena and Rica exchanging meaningful glances. Rica was trying not to laugh, while Sheena looked like she was mentally taking notes for later gossip.

“So,” Milo continued our conversation as if nothing had happened.

I found myself drawn back into our discussion despite the weirdness of the situation. This was the Milo I’d missed—the one who could engage in complex legal discussions, who challenged my thinking, who made studying feel less like work and more like intellectual exploration.

“I think the Court was right to emphasize that concept,” I said, warming to the topic. “But I also think there’s a valid argument that…”

As we talked, I noticed that James kept trying to interject from across the table, offering his own insights or asking questions that would draw me back into group conversation. But somehow, Milo always had a follow-up question or observation that kept our discussion going.

“Ice is melting,” Rica pointed out after we’d been talking for about twenty minutes.

“Right,” I said, taking a sip of my iced americano. “Thanks, James.”

“No problem,” he replied, but his smile seemed a bit strained.

---

The rest of the study session continued with this subtle undercurrent of competition that I was trying very hard not to overthink. James would offer to help me with a case, and Milo would chime in with additional context. James would suggest we work together on our next assignment, and Milo would mention a relevant law review article he could share with me.

I found myself responding naturally to both of them without reading too much into anyone’s motivations. James was being nice, as he always was. Milo was being more social than usual, which was… unexpected but not necessarily meaningful. Baka kagaya ko ay nagkaroon lang siya ng enlightenment that law school’s definitely better with friends around.

“Guys, I need a bathroom break,” Sheena announced around 3PM. “Rica, samahan mo ako?”

“Sure,” Rica replied, gathering her purse.

As they walked away, I heard Rica whisper something that sounded like “musical chairs” and Sheena’s muffled laughter in response.

When they returned fifteen minutes later, Sheena had a barely suppressed grin on her face.

“What?” I asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” she said innocently. “Just… interesting dynamics today.”

“What dynamics?”

“Oh, you know. Just observing how different people behave in different settings.”

I shot her a look that said ‘we’ll talk about this later,’ and she just smiled wider.

By 6PM, we’d accomplished a decent amount of work. Everyone had finished at least 20 case digests—I mean, at least they did. Sa dami ng questions sa akin ni Milo and James, naka-five na case digests lang ako. But it’s fine since we shared insights on the more challenging cases.

“This was productive,” James said as we started packing up our things. “We should definitely do this again.”

“Definitely,” Sheena agreed. “Same time next week?”

“Works for me,” I said, sliding my laptop into my bag. I was kind of worried na magdadaldalan lang kami, but it was surprisingly productive. I should trust my blockmates more.

“I’m in,” Rica added.

We all looked at Milo, who had been surprisingly participative all day.

“Sure,” he said, not really sounding excited about the idea. “Why not.”

As we walked out of the cafe together, James fell into step beside me while the others walked ahead.

“I had a good time today,” he said. “It’s nice studying with you. You explain things really well.”

“Thanks. You’re not bad yourself.”

“Maybe we could study together sometime? Just the two of us? I feel like I could learn a lot from you.”

Before I could respond, Milo appeared on my other side.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” Milo said, as if he hadn’t just interrupted a conversation between James and me.

James’s jaw tightened slightly, but he remained polite. “Oh, sure. I’ll just… catch up with the others.”

As James walked ahead to join Sheena and Rica, Milo and I found ourselves walking a few steps behind the group.

“What did you want to ask?” I said.

“Case digest pool,” he said casually. “For Crim Law. Interested?”

My forehead creased. “Tayong dalawa lang?”

“You said it yourself before na walang kwenta ’yong digests nila.”

I had said that, during one of our earlier conversations when I was still trying to impress him with my academic standards. But that felt like a lifetime ago.

“Right, I did say that. Pero dati pa ’yon.”

“Are you really willing to risk your grades?” Milo asked, his tone casual but his eyes serious. “Sir has a reputation for doing random checks sa digests. And if malaman niya na nagkopyan, he’ll mark both students with failing grades.”

I thought about this. He wasn’t wrong. Our blockmates were fun to study with, but their digest quality was… interesting. And Sir was notorious for his surprise digest checks.

“So, what are you proposing?” I asked.

“We pool our digests. Split the work, share the quality control. You know my work; I know yours. No one else needs to know.”

“What about the others?”

“They can work together if they want. This is just about ensuring we both maintain our academic standards.”

We’d reached the parking area where everyone was saying their goodbyes. I noticed James lingering nearby, probably hoping to continue our interrupted conversation.

“I’ll think about it,” I told Milo.

“Fair enough.” He paused, then added, “Let me know by Monday?”

“Sure.”

Just then, a car pulled up to the curb and honked twice. I looked over and saw Kylo behind the wheel of his BMW, windows down, music playing softly.

“That’s my ride,” I said, waving at him. Bakit nga nandito si Kylo? I thought si Sage ang susundo sa akin but whatever. Pinagpasahan na naman ako ng mga ’to.

I caught the immediate change in Milo’s expression—confusion mixed with something that looked suspiciously like irritation. His jaw tightened as he watched Kylo get out of the car.

Kylo walked over to our group with his easy smile and relaxed demeanor. At 6’2“ with an athletic build and that effortless charm that seemed to run in his family courtesy of Tita Katherine, he had a way of commanding attention wherever he went.

“Hey, Sapsap,” he said, messing my hair, so I quickly slapped his hand away. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just saying bye to everyone.” I turned to the group. “Guys, this is—”

Kylo’s phone rang loudly, cutting me off. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “Sorry, I have to take this. Mom’s calling.”

He stepped a few feet away, leaving me standing there awkwardly while my blockmates stared at him with obvious interest.

“Oh, my god, he’s so cute,” Rica whispered, not even trying to be subtle.

“Ang tangkad,” Sheena added appreciatively. “And those arms—”

“Guys,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Behave.”

“Is he single?” Sheena asked.

“He’s—” I started, but Kylo was already walking back, sliding his phone into his pocket.

“Sorry about that,” he said with a very charming smile that he uses whenever he tries to get what he wants. “We should go, Sapsap. Sage just texted.”

“Right, okay.” I turned back to my blockmates, who were still staring at Kylo like he’d stepped out of a magazine. “I’ll see you guys Monday!”

“Wait, sino siya?” Sheena whispered quickly bago ako maka-alis.

“I’ll explain later!” I called out as Kylo was already guiding me toward the car.

As we walked away, I caught a glimpse of Milo’s expression. It was completely unreadable now—his usual mask firmly back in place—but there was something in the way he was watching us that made my stomach flutter.

“Bye!” I waved at the group one last time before getting into Kylo’s car.

“Your classmates seem nice,” Kylo said as he started the engine. “Though that one guy looked like he wanted to set me on fire.”

“Who, Milo?” I said quickly, trying to sound casual. “Nah, that’s just his face. He always looks like that.”

“If you say so,” Kylo replied, but his tone suggested he wasn’t convinced.

“Wala nga kasi,” I said, immediately shutting down that line of conversation. The last thing I needed was for Kylo to mention this to Sage, who would then make it his mission to interrogate me about my love life. “He wasn’t glaring at you. That’s just his default face, okay? Marami siyang problema sa life.”

“Mm-hmm,” Kylo said, clearly not buying it, but he let it drop.

---

I’d posted a cute selfie earlier in my IG story—just me in my navy vest, hair slightly messy from the day, with the caption “study sesh outfit”—and was checking the responses when I noticed something.

A new follower on my Instagram.

I mean, it wasn’t odd that someone followed me but… this was making me feel odd, for some reason.

The username was ’ nominalxiam ’ and the account was completely blank—no profile picture, no posts, no followers, just following me.

I stared at the screen for a moment. Something about the username felt familiar, though I couldn’t quite place why. I tried to think about it, but then stopped because it was making my head hurt. Enough thinking for the day.

Instead, I took another cute selfie—this time while I was in my pajamas and I was wearing my facemask because just because I was stressed in law school didn’t mean that I had to look it.

As soon as I posted it, I saw that profile picture-less account. I checked the activities in my story. True enough, it was that same account. This account had been the first person to view my story. And not only that—they’d hearted it.

I clicked on the story viewers again, just to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. Yep, there it was at the top of the list— nominalxiam , with a little heart next to the username.

Someone was paying very close attention to my social media activity.

This story is already at Chapter 35 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 24

Monday morning arrived with the same routine I’d maintained since the semester started. 7AM sharp, I was already settled in my usual corner of the law library, textbook open, highlighters in hand, ready to tackle the day’s readings before the chaos of classes began.

Some things never changed, no matter how much my social life had evolved. I still needed these quiet morning hours to process complex legal concepts, still craved the structure of arriving early when the library was mostly empty except for other equally obsessive students.

I’d been there for almost an hour when my phone buzzed with a text from Sheena.

‘OMG dapat pala nag-aral na rin ako. Nakita kita sa lib sa story ni Rica. Super sipag!’

Rica had apparently posted a candid shot of students studying in the library, and I was visible in the background, completely absorbed in my readings. I quickly typed back, ‘Early bird gets the good grades!’ before putting my phone away and returning to my case analysis.

The morning flew by in a productive blur of Supreme Court decisions and jurisprudence. By the time I needed to pack up for my first class, I’d finished all my readings for the day and even started on tomorrow’s assignments.

This was why I loved my early morning routine—it gave me a sense of control and preparation that lasted throughout the day.

---

Class proceeded normally, with the usual mix of recitations, more recitations, and note-taking. During our quick break in between class, I found myself gravitating toward Sheena and Rica, who were huddled over Rica’s phone looking at something with intense concentration.

“What are you guys looking at?” I asked, settling into the chair beside them.

“Just stalking some cute guys on Instagram,” Sheena said without looking up. “The usual.”

“Speaking of cute guys,” Rica said, suddenly turning to me with bright eyes, “we need to talk about Saturday.”

“What about Saturday?”

“Hello? The mystery guy who picked you up?” Sheena said, finally putting the phone down. “Kylo? We’ve been dying to know more about him since we didn’t get proper introductions.”

“Oh, right.” I’d forgotten that I never got to explain who Kylo was. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“So, sino nga siya?” Rica pressed. “Boyfriend? Ex? Random hot guy you’re secretly dating?”

I laughed at their dramatic speculation. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s…” I paused, pulling out my phone. “Here, let me show you guys.”

I scrolled through my photo gallery until I found some recent family gathering photos. “This is Kylo,” I said, showing them a group shot from last month’s family barbecue. “And this is Lucho, Haniel, Laslo, and Kyler. But they’re not exactly family—more like family friends. Our parents are super close, so we all grew up together.”

“Oh, my god, they’re all hot,” Sheena breathed, zooming in on the photo. “It runs in their circle pala.”

“Wait, what if ikaw pala and one of them in the end?” Rica asked excitedly. “Since you basically grew up together and know everything about each other? That’s so romantic!”

I burst out laughing. “Trust me, I couldn’t even begin to imagine. They’re basically my brothers. I saw them when they were in diapers and vice versa. Super walang romantic tension.”

“But that’s the best foundation for love!” Sheena insisted. “Childhood friends to lovers!”

“You guys watch too many dramas,” I said, still laughing.

“What about their love lives?” Rica pressed. “Any of them single?”

“Honestly, I don’t really keep track of that,” I admitted. Some of their past flings or whatever got jealous of me, so I try to keep my distance from that aspect of their lives.

“Introduce us next time!” Rica said excitedly.

“Yeah, sure,” I stopped mid-sentence as I accidentally swiped to a photo of Sage and me at one of our family vacations. “Oh, this is my twin brother.”

Both girls went completely silent.

Then Rica screamed. Actually screamed.

“THAT’S SAGE BORROMEO!” she practically shrieked, causing half the classroom to turn and stare at us. “ THE Sage Borromeo!“

“Shhh!” I hissed, looking around nervously as other blockmates started whispering and looking in our direction.

“You’re twins with Sage Borromeo and you never mentioned this?!” Sheena whisper-yelled, her eyes wide with shock.

“It never came up?” I replied like hindi ba mas weird if I’ll just bring that up?

“Never came up?! Saff, he has like 3 million followers on Instagram. He’s literally famous!” Rica was still looking at my phone in disbelief.

“And you’re just casually his twin sister?” Sheena added, looking at me like I’d been hiding some massive secret.

“I mean, yeah. He’s just Sage to me. Annoying twin brother who steals my food and basically my grab driver.”

“This is insane,” Rica muttered, zooming in on the photo. “You guys look exactly alike. Same eyes, same smile.”

“Introduce us!” Sheena demanded. “Please! I’m literally begging you!”

“Guys, chill. He’s just a normal person—”

“Normal?! Saff, he’s gorgeous and famous and did I already say gorgeous—”

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet him. He’ll just disappoint you.”

But they weren’t listening anymore. They were too busy gawking at more photos of Sage, asking questions about his personality, his dating status, whether he ever mentioned what his ideal type was.

I was saved from their interrogation when Sir walked into the classroom, signalling the end of our break.

“We’re not done with this conversation,” Sheena whispered as we scrambled to put our phones away.

“Yeah, you’re definitely introducing us to your hot twin brother,” Rica added under her breath.

Great. Now I had to deal with my blockmates crushing on my brother. Just what I needed.

---

The week continued with the usual rotation of classes, recitations, and quizzes.

After class, I was exhausted but still had one more commitment—meeting with Milo about our case digest collaboration. I texted him but he wasn’t responding. I decided na pumunta na lang sa usual spot niya and true enough, he was there, smoking.

“Hi,” I said, “I texted you.”

He grabbed his phone from his pocket. “Di ko nabasa.”

“Obviously,” I replied. “So,” I said, “I thought about your case digest proposal.”

“And?”

“I’m in. You’re right about maintaining quality standards. And honestly, some of our blockmates’ digests are…” I paused, trying to find a diplomatic way to phrase it. I actually like them and I didn’t want to be mean but also, my grades are important.

“Questionable?” Milo supplied.

“I was going to say ‘independent creative interpretations of legal reasoning,’ but sure, questionable works, too.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Diplomatic.”

“I try.” I sat on the bench and I opened my laptop and pulled up my notes. “So, how do you want to do this? I was thinking we could just send the digests to each other online for review. More efficient that way.”

“Actually,” Milo said, leaning forward slightly, “I think it would be better if we meet in person to work on these.”

“Really? Why?”

“Accountability buddy system,” he said, his tone logical and matter-of-fact. “It’s easier to maintain quality when you’re reviewing together. Plus, we can catch errors in real-time, discuss complex concepts on the spot, bounce ideas off each other. Online review is fine for basic feedback, but for the kind of quality we both want, face-to-face collaboration is more effective.”

I considered this. The reasoning made sense—there was definitely something to be said for immediate discussion and real-time clarification. And I had to admit, our academic conversations were always more productive when we could see each other’s reactions—kitang-kita kasi sa mukha niya if nabobobohan siya sa sagot mo. Offensive, but helpful. At least alam mo na walang kwenta iyong sinasabi mo.

“Okay,” I agreed. “That actually makes sense. How often were you thinking?”

“Twice a week? We can split the cases, work on them separately, then meet to review each other’s drafts and finalize them together.”

“Hmm, okay. Sounds good. Where do you want to meet?”

“Wherever you want,” he said.

“What if super layo ng gusto ko puntahan?”

He just shrugged. Tss. As if naman. What if gusto ko somewhere in the south? Pupuntahan niya ako para lang magdigest kami? If he said yes, I’d begin to think that he’s having mental breakdown sa dami ng ginagawa namin sa school.

“Fine, I’ll look for a coffee shop na tahimik.”

“Somewhere far from school,” he said.

“Why?”

“More private,” he said.

“More private?” I raised an eyebrow. “Why do we need privacy for case digests?”

“So, we can discuss them freely without worrying about other students overhearing our analysis. You know how competitive everyone gets about grades.”

Again, the logic was sound. I nodded in agreement.

As we continued discussing the logistics of our collaboration—which cases to tackle first, how to divide the workload, quality standards we both wanted to maintain—I found myself noticing how engaged Milo seemed. More animated than usual, more invested in the planning process.

“One more thing,” Milo said as we finished organizing our materials. “Let’s keep this between us.”

“Why?”

“Because if the others find out we’re pooling our work, they might want to join, and then we’re back to the same quality control issues we’re trying to avoid.”

“Right. Our secret academic alliance.”

“Exactly.”

As we packed up our things, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Milo had put a lot of thought into this arrangement. The choice of location, the insistence on meeting in person, the emphasis on privacy—it all felt very deliberate.

But then again, maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe he was just being practical about maintaining his grades.

---

The day came faster than expected, and I found myself arriving at the ‘private’ coffee shop fifteen minutes early, which was unusual for me. I’d told myself it was because I wanted to scope out the location and find a good table, but honestly, I was just looking forward to our study session.

I just really like studying with Milo. Sue me, I like people who challenge me intellectually.

I chose a table in the back corner, away from the main traffic flow but still near a window for natural light.

Milo arrived exactly on time, carrying his usual leather messenger bag and looking like he belonged in this artsy, intellectual coffee shop setting.

“Iced americano, extra shot?” he asked, settling into the chair across from me. I nodded. “Got it. I’ll be right back.”

I watched him walk to the counter and found myself appreciating how he seemed to remember my coffee preference. Such a small thing, but somehow it felt significant.

When he returned with our drinks—my iced americano and his usual black coffee—we dove straight into our case digests.

“So, I finished the cases you assigned me,” I said, pulling out my drafts. “But I’m struggling with the main issue in this particular case.”

“Let me see,” Milo said, scooting his chair closer so he could read my notes.

As he leaned in to review my work, I caught a whiff of his cologne—the same scent I’d gotten so familiar with. Being this close to him in the intimate setting of a quiet coffee shop felt different from our usual classroom interactions.

“Your analysis is solid,” he said after reading through my draft. “But I think you’re overcomplicating this concept. Look at it this way…”

For the next hour, we worked through the cases together, discussing jurisprudence, debating interpretations, and refining our analysis. The conversation flowed naturally, but there was an underlying tension I couldn’t quite place.

Milo seemed more attentive than usual—noticing when my coffee was running low and offering to get me another order, adjusting the angle of his laptop so I could see the screen better, making small observations about my study habits.

“You always write your initial notes by hand before typing them up,” he observed as I reached for my pen to make another annotation.

“Yeah, it helps me process the information better. Old school, I know.”

“Not really. It’s more organized. I noticed you do the same thing in class—handwritten notes first, then organized digital versions later.”

The fact that he’d been paying attention to my study methods made me feel shy. How long had he been observing these details about me?

“You notice a lot of things,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual.

“I’m observant.”

“About everyone, or just…”

“Yeah. Everyone.”

The way he said it, while maintaining direct eye contact, made my stomach do that familiar flutter thing. But before I could respond, his phone rang.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he said, glancing at the screen with a frown.

I just nodded. He stepped away from our table, walking toward the front of the coffee shop for privacy. When he returned, there was tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. His easy demeanor had shifted to something more guarded.

“Everything okay?” I asked gently.

“Yeah.”

But his tone suggested it was definitely major, whatever it was. I wanted to ask more, to offer support if he needed it, but something in his posture warned me not to push.

Instead, I redirected our attention back to our case digests, and we spent another hour refining our work. But I found myself paying more attention to the small details I’d never noticed before.

Like how he only orders hot black coffee, like how his textbooks were borrowed from the library—which was a complete opposite of my initial impression of him being ‘rich.’ I felt really bad kasi siya iyong umoorder ng coffee ko. He even got me cake. I offered to pay, but he said it’s fine. Ayoko naman siya kulitin kasi baka ma-offend siya. It was totally fine if ako na magbabayad ng food namin. Sage won’t even notice kahit ako pa magbayad ng bill ng lahat ng tao sa coffee shop na ’to.

By the time we finished our session, we’d completed solid drafts of 20 case digests—more productive than I’d been during any of our group study sessions.

“This was really helpful,” I said as we packed up our materials. “I think the in-person format definitely works better than online review.”

“Told you so,” Milo replied, but his tone was warm rather than smug.

As we walked out of the coffee shop together, I found myself reluctant to end our time together. The academic collaboration had felt natural and comfortable, but there’d been moments—when he’d leaned in close to read my notes and when he’d made observations about my study habits.

“Same time?” I asked as we reached the point where we’d part ways.

“Definitely.”

“And Milo? If you ever want to talk about whatever’s going on… I’m here. We’re friends, right? You know you can talk to me about anything, even outside topics sa school.”

Something flickered across his expression—surprise, maybe gratitude, possibly something deeper.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As I looked at his face, I realized that our study sessions were quickly becoming the highlight of my academic week. And it wasn’t just because of the productive work we were accomplishing.

---

The next session followed a similar pattern—productive academic work punctuated by moments of unexpected… thoughtfulness. Milo had somehow remembered that I preferred studying in natural light and had secured a table by the window before I arrived.

I once again offered to pay for our order, but Milo just asked if iyong usual iyong order ko. I nodded. Tapos… wala na kasi pumunta na siya sa counter to order. Tsk. Next time nga dadating na ako nang maaga and will place order in advance na.

Our case discussions were becoming more animated, with both of us challenging each other’s interpretations and building on each other’s insights. It was the kind of intellectual stimulation I’d been craving since starting law school—someone who could match my analytical thinking and push me to consider new perspectives.

“You know,” I said during a break in our case analysis, “I think you’re actually making me a better student.”

“How so?”

“You ask the kind of questions that force me to really understand the material, not just memorize it. Like earlier, when you challenged my interpretation—I had to go deeper into the reasoning to defend my position.”

“And?”

“And I realized my original analysis was surface-level. Your questions helped me identify the gaps in my understanding.”

Milo seemed pleased by this assessment. “Good. That means our accountability buddy system is working.”

“It is. Although I have to admit, I didn’t expect studying together to be this…” I paused, trying to find the right word.

“This what?”

“Enjoyable, I guess. Usually, academic work feels like work. This feels more… enjoyable. Which is weird, I know. Law school is supposed to be super stressful.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Definitely good. Learning should be engaging, right? Not just a grind to get through.”

As we returned to our case analysis, I noticed that Milo seemed more relaxed during our study sessions than he did during group activities. More willing to share his thoughts, more animated in his explanations, more… himself.

It made me wonder what he was like when he wasn’t maintaining his usual guarded demeanor. What he was like when he felt completely comfortable and safe.

Our session was interrupted by another phone call—the same stressed conversation I’d overheard on Tuesday. This time, when he returned, I decided to address it directly.

“Milo, seriously, if something’s going on, you can talk to me. Whatever it is, I’m not going to judge or make it weird.”

He looked at me for a long moment, and I could see him weighing whether to open up.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, but not unkindly. “But thanks for offering.”

I wanted to push, to insist that friends support each other, but something in his tone told me he wasn’t ready for that conversation yet.

Instead, I filed the information away and made a mental note to be more sensitive when we made plans or suggestions as a group.

---

The next weeks passed in a blur of classes, assignments, and an increasing awareness that something had shifted in my dynamic with Milo. He seemed to be showing up in places where I usually went—arriving at the library kapag patapos na ako and then sabay kaming pupunta sa classroom and then he’ll wait for me after class and he’ll walk with me papunta sa parking lot.

Friday evening, our group met for our usual end of week dinner. I arrived to find that Milo had strategically positioned himself directly across from where my usual seat would be—not next to me like he’d been doing lately, but in a spot where he could maintain eye contact during conversations.

“How was everyone’s week?” Sheena asked once we’d ordered our usual round of dishes.

“Productive,” James replied. “Finally caught up on all my readings.”

“Same,” Rica added. “Though I’m already stressed about next week’s recits.”

“Speaking of recits,” Sheena said, turning to me with a mischievous grin, “when are you going to introduce us to your famous twin brother?”

What? Ano’ng connect ng recit ko kay Sage?

I groaned. “Are you guys seriously still thinking about that?”

“Thinking about it? We’ve been planning it,” Rica said with a laugh. “We’ve already decided what to wear when we meet him.”

“Guys, he’s just a normal person—”

“Normal people don’t have 3 million Instagram followers,” Sheena interrupted.

“And normal people don’t look like that,” Rica added, scrolling through her phone to show the table a screenshot of Sage’s Instagram. “Look at this face!”

I caught Milo glancing at Rica’s phone with mild interest, but he didn’t comment on my brother’s social media presence the way some of our other blockmates did.

“Come on, Saff,” Rica pleaded. “Just one introduction? We promise to be cool about it.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me when you realize he’s not as impressive in person.”

As the conversation shifted to other topics, I noticed that Milo continued to engage with the group discussions, but he always seemed to direct his comments toward me. When James made a joke, Milo would catch my eye to see my reaction. When Rica shared a story about her weekend, Milo would ask follow-up questions that somehow brought the conversation back to topics I was interested in.

It was subtle, but consistent. Like he was participating in group social activities but really he was focused on maintaining a connection with me specifically.

After dinner, as we were walking to the parking area, I found myself falling into step beside Milo while the others walked ahead.

“Question,” I said casually.

“Answer,” he replied in the same tone.

“Are you interested in me?” I asked him as I stared directly into his eyes. 

This story is already at Chapter 36 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 25

The question hung in the air between us like a live wire— are you interested in me?

I watched Milo’s face carefully, noting the exact moment his eyes widened, the way his lips parted slightly like he was about to say something important. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but I kept my expression steady.

I’d asked the question—now, I needed to hear his answer.

But then his phone rang.

Of course it fucking did.

Milo glanced at the screen, and immediately, his entire demeanor shifted. The openness that had been building in his expression slammed shut like a door.

“I have to take this,” he said tersely, already stepping away from me.

“Milo—”

“Sorry.”

I stood there watching him walk several feet away, his voice low and tense as he answered the call. From his body language—the rigid set of his shoulders, the way he ran his free hand through his hair—whatever was being discussed was clearly stressing him out.

When he returned five minutes later, he looked visibly upset. There were lines of tension around his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and his jaw was clenched tight.

“Everything okay?” I asked gently.

“Yeah. Fine.” But his tone suggested it was definitely not fine.

We stood there in awkward silence for a moment. I waited for him to bring up my question, to address the conversation that had been interrupted. Instead, he just gathered his things.

“I should go,” he said without meeting my eyes.

“Wait, what about—”

“I really need to go,” he said. “We’ll talk about this again.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me standing alone in the parking lot with my question unanswered and a growing sense of frustration building in my chest.

Seriously? After weeks of mixed signals and carefully orchestrated study sessions, he was just going to leave me hanging?

Fine.

Two could play this game.

---

Sunday afternoon found me at our family’s monthly gathering, surrounded by chaos and laughter at Tita Katherine’s house. The usual suspects were all there minus the others na busy sa kung anuman ang ginagawa nila. But the ones I needed—Kyler, Kylo, Haniel, Lucho, and Laslo—were there. Perfect timing.

“Sap, picture tayo!” Kylo called out, already positioning himself for a selfie by the pool.

“Wait for me!” I said, quickly making my way over to them.

What followed was an impromptu photo session that I documented extensively on my Instagram stories. Group shots by the pool, candid laughs during our barbecue lunch, videos of the guys being ridiculous during karaoke—the works.

Usually, I only post my outfits and food I like in my Instagram account—contrary to Milo’s opinion na nilalagay ko doon ang buong buhay ko. I rarely post my cousins kasi super stalker nung ibang mga tao. Hindi naman sila ‘online celebrity’ like Sage. A lot of them are super private—like Kuya Sandro na one time, he got scared kasi may mga babae na sumusunod sa kanya. Apparently, they saw him in one of my Instagram stories. That’s it. Nakita lang nila and they thought it was okay to follow him around in public.

I mean, to ask for a picture is fine… but to follow the poor guy to the point that he thought he was being stalked? Tsk.

After that, I rarely post about them… until now.

I made sure each story showcased just how much fun I was having, surrounded by attractive, charming guys who clearly adored me. Not because I was trying to make anyone jealous, of course. I was just… documenting a lovely family gathering.

Okay, fine. I was totally trying to make someone jealous.

As I posted each story, I found myself checking the viewer list obsessively. And sure enough, without fail, that mysterious ’ nominalxiam ’ account was always among the first to view them. Sometimes within minutes of posting.

At this point, I was 100% convinced the account belonged to Milo. The timing was too consistent, too immediate for it to be anyone else. He really thought he was being slick with his anonymous stalking, but joke’s on him—I’d figured it out.

And as if mahirap hulaan! It was like he was baiting me!

“Selfie pa!” Lucho said, appearing beside me with his usual charming grin.

“Always,” I replied, leaning into him as he snapped several photos of us.

I posted the best one immediately, adding a casual caption about “Sunday with my favorite people.”

Within three minutes, nominalxiam had viewed it.

I couldn’t help but smirk. So, Milo wanted to avoid answering my question directly but was perfectly fine with obsessively monitoring my social media activity? Interesting strategy.

Around 3PM, my phone buzzed with a text from an actual phone number I recognized.

‘Saffron.’

Just my name. Nothing else.

I stared at the message for a moment, then deliberately turned on my read receipts and left him on read.

If he wanted to communicate, he could use his words like a grown-up.

---

The rest of the afternoon continued with more family bonding, more photos, and more deliberate social media documentation. I posted videos of Kyler teaching me some complex card game, pictures of Lucho and me attempting to grill burgers (keyword—attempting), and a group shot of all of us in the pool during sunset.

Each post was genuine—I really was having an amazing time with my extended family. But the fact that each story was also clearly annoying someone made it even more satisfying.

Around 8PM, another text from Milo.

‘About our case digest session tomorrow.’

I read the message, then set my phone aside without responding. If he wanted to discuss case digests, he could start by addressing the elephant in the room.

After helping with cleanup and saying goodbye to everyone, I was getting ready for bed when I finally replied.

‘Answer my question first.’

His response came almost immediately.

‘In person.’

‘Cool. See you in class then.’

---

Monday morning arrived with the delightful surprise of me waking up feeling like absolute shit. My throat was scratchy, my head was pounding, and I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.

“You’re not going to school,” Sage declared after taking one look at me at breakfast—na dinner for him because of course, matutulog pa lang siya.

“I have to. May class ako.”

“You look like shit. Stay home and rest.”

“One day lang naman. I’ll be fine.”

But just minutes later, I felt even worse. My fever had spiked, and I could barely keep my eyes open. Still, I’d made a commitment to myself—I was going to get an answer from Milo, and I wasn’t going to let a stupid cold derail my plans.

At 5:30PM, I dragged myself out of bed and got ready for my 6PM class.

“This is insane,” Sage said as I stumbled around my room looking for my shoes. “You’re sick. Stay home.”

“One class lang. Promise.”

“Bakit ba parang may tao na gusto mong makita sa school?” he asked suspiciously. Tsk! Sino kaya kay Lucho and Kylo ang naglaglag sa ’kin?!

“Wala nga!” I protested a little too quickly. “I just don’t want to miss anything important.”

Sage gave me a look that suggested he wasn’t buying it, but he grabbed his keys anyway. “Fine. But I’m driving you, and we’re leaving the second class ends.”

---

I arrived at school looking and feeling like a walking disaster, but I was there. That had to count for something.

Milo was already in the classroom when I walked in, and his eyes immediately tracked to me. I could see him taking in my appearance—the slightly flushed cheeks, the way I was moving more slowly than usual.

He started to stand up, probably to talk to me, but Sir followed directly behind me into the classroom, so we all settled into our seats as class began.

Thankfully, I wasn’t called on to recite. My luck was finally cooperating with my poor life choices.

After class, as I was slowly packing my things, Milo appeared beside my desk.

“Saffron, we need to—”

“Next time,” I cut him off, slinging my bag over my shoulder. My head was pounding, and Sage was waiting in the parking lot. “I’m not feeling great.”

“May sakit ka?” he asked, his tone shifting to concern.

“Yeah, so let’s talk next time.”

But instead of accepting this reasonable explanation, Milo looked visibly annoyed.

“Why did you come to class if you’re sick?”

“Why? So I can get called sa recit and get a 65?”

“You could have just—”

“Just what? Risk my grades because I have a fever?” I started walking toward the exit, and he fell into step beside me. “I’m not going to sabotage my academics for anything.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Then what did you mean?” I asked, turning to face him as we walked. “Because it sounds like you think I should have stayed home and missed class.”

“I think you should take care of yourself,” he said, his voice getting louder. “Not drag yourself to school when you can barely stand up straight.”

“I can stand up fine, thank you.”

“Saffron, you’re swaying.”

“I am not—”

I stopped mid-sentence because I’d noticed Sage standing by his car about twenty feet away, watching our argument with his forehead creased in confusion and what looked suspiciously like protective concern.

Shit.

Before I could say anything—or more importantly, before I could deny whatever conclusions Sage was obviously drawing—I heard familiar voices calling my name.

“Saff!” Sheena and Rica appeared seemingly out of nowhere, practically bouncing with excitement. “Perfect timing!”

They reached us just as I was trying to figure out how to explain to Sage why I was arguing with a classmate in the parking lot while looking like death warmed over.

“Hi!” I said weakly, trying to muster some enthusiasm.

But both girls weren’t looking at me. They were staring directly at Sage, who was still standing by his car looking like a protective brother ready to intervene in whatever drama was unfolding.

Then I remembered—they’d been begging me to introduce them to Sage for weeks.

“Oh,” I said, realizing this was actually perfect timing… or whatever. Did they purposely follow me here kasi nakita nila si Sage? I could never really tell with these two… “Guys, this is my brother, Sage.”

“Hi,” Sage said politely, walking over to join our little group. His eyes immediately went to Milo, sizing him up with obvious suspicion.

“Oh my god, hi!” Sheena said, her voice going up about three octaves. “I’m Sheena, and this is Rica. We’re Saffie’s blockmates.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sage replied, but his attention was still partly focused on the tension between Milo and me.

“Actually,” I said, suddenly remembering something that might kill two birds with one stone and might shift Sage’s attention because he was really staring at Milo like he was studying him, “there’s a party this Friday. Celebration for Sage’s recent tournament win… I think. You guys should come!”

“Really?” Rica asked excitedly. Tumingin siya kay Sage. “Okay lang if we come?”

I waved my hand. “Yeah, definitely. It’ll be fun.” This wasn’t the first time I invited my friends sa parties ni Sage. Plus nandon rin naman sila Lucho, so it’ll be fine. Para tigilan na rin ako nila Sheena dahil gusto ata nila na iintroduce ko sila sa lahat.

I turned to Milo, who had been standing there silently through this entire exchange. “You should come, too.”

Milo looked surprised by the invitation. “I don’t really—”

“Come on, it’ll be good for you to do something that’s not school-related,” I said. Also, it would be weird if I invited our other blockmates but not him, especially since he was standing right there.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great!” I said, then immediately felt a wave of dizziness that reminded me why I needed to get home. “Sage, can we—?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said immediately, his protective instincts kicking in. “Nice meeting you.”

As we walked toward the car, I caught Milo watching us with an unreadable expression.

---

Later that evening, as I was settling into bed with tea and medicine, my phone buzzed.

‘If you’re still sick tomorrow, don’t come to class.’

I stared at the message for a moment before typing back.

‘No way. What if matawag ako sa recit?’

‘I’ll explain to Sir.’

‘Ayoko. What if bigyan pa rin ako ng 65? No way I’ll risk that.’

‘Fine. Pag binigyan ka ng 65, if I get called, I’ll trash my recit para pareho tayong 65.’

I couldn’t help but smile at this ridiculous offer.

‘75 kaya kapag present kahit pangit recit.’

‘Unbelievable. Fine. I’ll absent next class para pareho tayong 65. Happy now?’

I was actually grinning now despite feeling terrible.

‘You would really do that?’

‘Yes.’

Something warm spread through my chest that had nothing to do with my fever. There was something incredibly sweet about Milo being willing to sabotage his own perfect attendance record just so I wouldn’t feel bad about staying home sick.

“Bakit nakangiti ka?” Sage asked, appearing in my doorway with more tea.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

He gave me a knowing look. “Yung classmate mo kanina?”

“Just a friend.”

“Right.”

“He’s just a classmate—” I stopped myself before I could protest too much. “Whatever. I wanna sleep. Go away.”

I pretended to close my eyes and settle in for the night, but really I was trying to hide the fact that I was still grinning because of the conversation that I just had with Milo.

---

I ended up being absent Tuesday and Wednesday, spending most of my time sleeping off whatever virus had decided to attack my immune system. On Thursday afternoon, Sheena called to update me on what I’d missed.

“Oh, and the sweetest thing happened,” she said during our catch-up conversation. “Milo personally talked to both your professors to let them know you were sick and that you’d submit a medical certificate when you get back.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I saw him standing outside the classroom both days, waiting to intercept the professors before they went inside. It was actually really sweet.”

I felt that same warm feeling in my chest. The image of Milo standing outside each classroom, making sure my professors knew I had a legitimate reason for being absent—it was incredibly thoughtful.

“That was nice of him,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual.

“Nice? Saff, that was beyond nice. He didn’t have to do that.”

She was right. He really didn’t have to do that. But he did it anyway.

After we hung up, I found myself staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, thinking about everything that had happened over the past few weeks. The study sessions, the coffee orders, the strategic seating arrangements, the territorial behavior around other guys, and now this—going out of his way to make sure I didn’t get penalized for being absent.

There was no way Milo didn’t like me.

There was just no way.

I was done waiting for him to figure out how to articulate his feelings. Friday’s party was going to be the perfect opportunity to get my answer, one way or another.

---

Friday finally arrived, and with it, my return to school. I felt mostly human again, though still a bit tired.

During class, Milo asked quietly if I was feeling better, and I nodded. But really, I was thinking, ’ I’ll be okay once malaman ko na yung sagot sa tanong ko.’

After class ended, I told everyone, “See you later sa party, guys. I need to go home and change first.”

As soon as I got home, I headed straight for my closet. Tonight required strategic fashion choices.

I settled on a black lace mini dress with delicate spaghetti straps and a sweetheart neckline that hugged every curve perfectly. The intricate lace pattern was feminine but edgy, sophisticated enough for the venue but definitely designed to turn heads. I completed the look with black pointed-toe heels that added just enough height to make my legs look endless, kept my signature black-rimmed glasses, and left my hair in loose waves. My makeup was carefully applied to look effortless while still being obviously deliberate.

Because if I was going to push Milo’s buttons tonight, I was going to look damn good doing it.

The party was in full swing by the time I arrived at the venue—a trendy rooftop bar that Sage’s management had rented out for the celebration. The place was buzzing with energy, filled with people from the gaming community, family friends, and now my law school blockmates.

I immediately spotted my target audience. Kyler, Kylo, Haniel, Lucho, and Laslo were all there, looking predictably attractive in their various states of party attire. And sitting at a table near the bar, nursing a beer and looking slightly out of place, was Milo.

Perfect.

I could tell immediately that he was not comfortable. His jaw was tense, his eyes kept scanning the room, and every time one of the guys laughed loudly or got too close to me during conversations, I could see his grip tighten on his beer bottle.

This was going to be fun.

“Lucho,” I said, sidling up to him during a lull in the music. “You owe me.”

“For what?”

“For the time I covered for you when you broke Tita Katherine’s vase.”

“That was like ten years ago!”

“Exactly. Interest has been accumulating.”

He looked at me suspiciously. “What do you want?”

I glanced over at Milo, who was definitely watching our conversation despite pretending to be interested in his phone.

“I need you to flirt with me.”

“What? Yuck.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fake flirt. Just for a little while. Touch my arm, laugh at my jokes, look at me like you’re interested.”

“Why would I—” Lucho followed my gaze to where Milo was sitting. “Oh. Ohhhh. This is about law school guy?”

“Maybe.”

“Saff, he looks like he wants to murder me just for talking to you right now.”

“Perfect. That means it’s working.”

“I don’t know about this…”

“Please? I’ll owe you one.”

Lucho sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I get punched tonight, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.”

For the next thirty minutes, Lucho played his part perfectly. He leaned in close when I talked, laughed a little too loudly at my stories, and kept his hand on my arm or the small of my back. To anyone watching, we looked like two people who were definitely interested in each other.

And Milo was definitely watching.

Every time I glanced in his direction, his jaw was clenched tighter, his posture more rigid. At one point, I caught him gripping his beer bottle so hard I was worried it might break.

“Yeah, I think he’ll actually punch me,” Lucho whispered during what looked like an intimate conversation but was actually him panicking.

“I wish,” I replied with a grin.

“What?!” Lucho’s eyes went wide. “We didn’t agree that I’d get punched tonight!”

“Relax, I won’t let him actually hurt you—”

But as I was speaking, Lucho’s face went pale. “Uh, Saff?”

“What?”

“He’s coming over here.”

I turned to look, but Milo wasn’t heading toward us. He was walking toward the restrooms.

“False alarm,” I said, turning back to Lucho.

But he wasn’t there anymore. Somehow, while I’d been distracted, he’d managed to disappear into the crowd, leaving me standing alone near the bar.

Coward.

I decided this was a good time for a bathroom break anyway. All this fake flirting was exhausting, and I needed to reapply my lipgloss.

I was halfway to the restrooms when someone grabbed my wrist—firm, desperate, like they were afraid I might disappear.

Milo.

The music from the party seemed to fade into background noise as he pulled me into the dimly lit hallway leading to the restrooms. Away from the crowd, away from prying eyes, away from everything except the electric tension that had been building between us for weeks.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice rougher than I’d ever heard it.

In the muted lighting, I could see everything I’d been looking for in his expression. His usually composed mask had completely cracked. His hair was disheveled like he’d been running his hands through it all evening. His jaw was tight, his breathing slightly uneven. But it was his eyes that made my pulse race—dark, intense, focused entirely on me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.

This wasn’t the carefully controlled Milo from our study sessions. This was someone who’d been pushed past his breaking point.

“About your question,” he continued, stepping closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “The answer is yes.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. “Yes?”

His eyes dropped to my lips, lingered there for a moment that felt like eternity, then slowly traveled back up to meet mine. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, but every word hit me like lightning.

“I have to have you.”

The same words from weeks ago, but now there was no confusion, no room for misinterpretation. The way he was looking at me—like he was seconds away from losing control completely—made something deep in my stomach clench with anticipation.

He was so close now that I could count his eyelashes, could see the slight tremor in his hands as he reached up to cup my face. The hallway felt smaller, the air thicker. Everything had narrowed down to this moment, this space between us that felt charged with weeks of unresolved tension.

“Saffron,” he breathed my name like a prayer, like a confession.

This time, when he leaned in, there was no hesitation, no panic in his eyes. Just pure, focused intent.

And this time, I wasn’t pulling away either.

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Chapter 26

This time, when he leaned in, there was no hesitation, no panic in his eyes. Just pure, focused intent.

And this time, I wasn’t pulling away either.

Never.

The moment our lips met, it was like everything I’d been holding back for weeks finally exploded. All the tension, all the wondering, all the careful analysis—none of it mattered anymore because Milo was kissing me, and it was everything I’d imagined and absolutely nothing like I’d expected at the same time.

His lips were softer than I’d thought they’d be, but the way he kissed me was anything but soft. There was desperation in it, like he’d been starving and I was the first meal he’d had in weeks. His hands tangled in my hair, messing up the careful waves I’d spent an hour perfecting, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I pressed closer to him, my back hitting the wall of the hallway as he deepened the kiss. The distant sound of the party seemed to fade completely—all I could focus on was the way he tasted like beer and something uniquely him, the way his cologne filled my senses, the way his body felt pressed against mine.

“Fuck,” he breathed against my lips, and the sound sent shivers down my spine.

This was so much better than any of the scenarios I’d imagined in my head during those late-night moments when I’d let myself wonder what it would be like to kiss him. This was real—his hands on my waist, his breath against my neck, the way he was looking at me like I was the most important thing in the world.

I reached up to cup his face, feeling the slight stubble on his jaw against my palms. “Took you long enough,” I whispered, trying to maintain some semblance of the confident persona I’d worked so hard to project, but my voice came out breathier than I’d intended.

“I’m here now,” he said simply, and then he was kissing me again, and I forgot all about trying to sound composed.

We were completely lost in each other when I heard familiar voices approaching down the hallway.

“—saw her go this way with someone—”

Sage’s voice.

Shit.

I broke away from Milo, my eyes going wide with panic. “Sage,” I hissed, grabbing Milo’s hand and pulling him deeper into the hallway, away from the main entrance.

We pressed ourselves against the wall in a small alcove just as Sage appeared around the corner with Kylo and Lucho in tow, all three of them scanning the area.

“Saff?” Sage called out. “Nandito ka ba?”

I held my breath, acutely aware of how close Milo was, how I could feel his chest rising and falling against my back. His arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me steady, and despite the panic of almost being caught, I felt safer than I had in weeks.

“Maybe she went back to the main party?” Kylo suggested.

“Parang sinabi niya na uuwi na siya ,” Lucho added. “She wasn’t feeling great earlier, right?”

Very good, Lulu.

I needed to remind myself to treat Lucho to a meal or something.

“No, she’s still here. I just saw her,” Sage said, his voice carrying that protective tone that meant he was worried. “And who was that guy she was with?”

My heart hammered against my ribs. Of course Sage had seen us. Nothing escaped my twin brother’s attention when it came to potential threats to my well-being.

“She was just walking alone,” Lucho said.

“No, may nakita akong kasama niya kanina,” Sage replied flatly.

I squeezed Milo’s hand, trying to communicate silently that we needed to stay hidden until they moved on. He squeezed back, and I could feel him trying not to laugh at the situation we’d gotten ourselves into.

“Come on, let’s check the other side,” Lucho finally suggested. “Maybe they went to get some air on the balcony.”

Their voices gradually faded as they moved away from our hiding spot. I waited another minute before relaxing, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“Close call,” Milo murmured against my ear, and the sensation made me shiver.

“Too close,” I agreed, turning in his arms so I was facing him again. In the dim lighting of the alcove, he looked even more attractive—hair messed up from my fingers, lips slightly swollen from our kisses, eyes dark with an intensity I’d never seen before.

I couldn’t resist reaching up and pulling him down for another kiss, shorter this time but no less intense.

“We should get out of here,” I said when we broke apart. “Before Sage comes back with a search party.”

“San tayo pupunta?”

Tayo?

Wow.

That… sounded so good.

But the question still hung between us, loaded with possibility. I could suggest we go back to the party, pretend this hadn’t happened, return to our careful dance of mixed signals and unspoken feelings. Or I could be brave and take what I wanted.

I’d spent weeks analyzing every interaction, every glance, every text message. I was done overthinking.

“Wait here,” I said, stepping away from him reluctantly. “I need to get something from inside. Don’t move.”

“Saffron—”

I silenced him with another quick kiss, unable to resist. “Just trust me. Don’t go anywhere.”

I made my way back into the main party, trying to look casual despite the fact that my hair was messed up and my lipgloss had been thoroughly kissed off. The music seemed louder now, the crowd more chaotic, but I had a mission.

I spotted Sage near the bar, talking animatedly with Kyler about something. Perfect—he was distracted.

I approached him with what I hoped was a innocent expression. “Sage, can I borrow your car keys?”

He turned to look at me, his eyes immediately narrowing as he took in my appearance. “San ka galing?” he asked.

“Was dancing with my friends,” I said as casually as I could. I faked a yawn. “I want to go home. I’m tired,” I said, which was technically true. I was exhausted from weeks of emotional confusion.

“I’ll drive you—”

“No, stay. This is your party. Pahatid ka na lang kay Kylo.” I held out my hand expectantly.

Sage studied my face carefully, and I could see him cataloging every detail—my slightly smudged makeup, the way my hair was more tousled than it had been when I’d arrived, the fact that I was standing closer to the exit than I’d been all evening.

I’d done what I could to repair the damage, but there was no hiding it—I knew I looked thoroughly kissed and everyone with eyes could definitely tell.

“Saff,” he said slowly, “where’s the guy you were with?”

“What guy?” I asked innocently.

“The classmate. ’Yong kasama mo sa hallway.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” His tone suggested he absolutely wasn’t buying it. “And you just want to go home by yourself?”

“Yes. Can I please have the keys?”

We stared at each other for a moment, engaged in the silent communication that only twins could master. He was trying to figure out what I was up to, and I was trying to project an aura of innocent exhaustion.

Finally, he sighed and pulled the keys from his pocket. “Text me when you get home safely.”

“Promise,” I said, grabbing the keys before he could change his mind.

As I turned to leave, I spotted Lucho near the DJ booth, nursing a drink and looking thoroughly relieved that his fake-flirting duties were over.

I walked over to him quickly. “Hey, I need a favor.”

“Another one?” he groaned. “Saff, I already almost got murdered by your boyfriend tonight—”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said automatically, then caught myself. “Yet. Anyway, I need you to keep an eye on Sage.”

“Why?”

“Just… if he leaves the party or starts looking for me, text me immediately. Please?”

Lucho looked at me suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing dangerous. I promise. I just need some time without my overprotective brother hovering.”

“Fine. But you’re going to owe me big time for this.”

“I’ll owe you whatever you want. Thank you!”

I gave him a quick hug and hurried toward the exit, my heart pounding with anticipation and nerves.

---

When I stepped back into the hallway, I half-expected to find it empty. Part of me was convinced that Milo would have disappeared, that the whole thing had been some kind of fever dream brought on by too much tension and not enough sleep.

But he was still there, leaning against the wall where I’d left him, scrolling through his phone with a slight frown.

The relief that flooded through me was so intense it was almost dizzying.

“You waited,” I said, walking toward him.

He looked up, and the expression that crossed his face when he saw me made my stomach flutter. Like he’d been worried I wouldn’t come back, like seeing me again was the best part of his evening.

“I said I would.”

Such a simple response, but somehow it meant everything. Milo didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand and lacing our fingers together. “Let’s get out of here.”

He didn’t ask where we were going. He just followed me through the building and down to the parking, his hand warm and steady in mine.

When we reached Sage’s car—a black Mercedes-Benz GLC that he was probably going to regret lending me—I turned to face Milo.

“So,” I said, suddenly feeling shy despite everything that had happened. “Want to go for a drive?”

“Yes.”

The simplicity of his answer, the way he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, made something warm bloom in my chest.

I unlocked the car and we got in, but instead of heading to the front seats, I found myself pulling Milo toward the back.

“Saffron,” he said, his voice carrying a note of warning, but his eyes were dark with the same want I was feeling.

“What?” I asked innocently, settling into the backseat and pulling him down beside me. “We’re just talking.”

“Are we?”

“We’re definitely talking,” I said, moving closer to him. “Unless you have something better to do with your mouth.”

The words came out bolder than I’d intended, but I didn’t regret them. I was done being the careful, analytical version of myself. Tonight, I wanted to be the girl who took what she wanted without overthinking the consequences.

Milo’s eyes widened slightly at my directness, but then he was reaching for me, pulling me closer until I was practically in his lap.

“Actually,” he said, his voice rough, “I think talking is overrated.”

And then he was kissing me again, and I forgot all about being shy or careful or anything that wasn’t the way his lips felt against mine.

The kiss was everything I’d imagined and nothing like I’d expected all at once. His lips were warm and surprisingly soft, and he tasted faintly of beer and something uniquely him. When his hands cupped my face, his thumbs traced across my cheekbones like he was memorizing the feel of my skin.

I’d been kissed before—awkward teenage fumbles, college makeouts that left me feeling nothing—but this was different. This was Milo kissing me like he’d been thinking about it for weeks, like he’d been holding himself back and was finally letting go.

When we broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, and I could feel the rapid beat of his pulse where my fingers pressed against his neck.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the word barely audible.

I’d never heard him swear before. The fact that I’d made composed, controlled Milo lose his verbal filter sent heat racing through my entire body.

“Good fuck or bad fuck?” I whispered against his lips.

Instead of answering, he kissed me again, deeper this time. His hands slid from my face to my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space between us. I could feel the heat of his body through his shirt, could smell his cologne. My hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, and when I tugged him closer, he made a low sound in the back of his throat that made my knees weak.

We were completely lost in each other when the sound of loud voices and car doors slamming penetrated our bubble. The party was obviously winding down, and people were starting to leave.

“Shit,” I said, reluctantly pulling away from him. My lips felt swollen, and I could see that his hair was messed up from my fingers. “We should probably move bago pa tayo mahuli ni Sage dito.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but his hands were still on my waist, his thumbs tracing small circles that made it hard to think clearly.

“I’m serious,” I said, even as I leaned in to steal another kiss. The taste of him was addictive—I couldn’t seem to get enough. “Sage is going to come looking for me soon.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Mm-hmm,” I agreed, but instead of moving, I kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the way he responded immediately, the way his grip tightened on my waist.

It took another round of car doors slamming nearby to finally motivate us to separate.

---

Thirty minutes later, we were parked on a hillside overlooking the city, the lights of Manila spread out below us like stars.

“Paano mo nalaman ’to?” I asked as we got out of the car. I asked earlier if he wanted to drive Sage’s car but he immediately shook his head and looked at me like I was insane. Ako na lang ang nagdrive. I mean, it’s fine. But honestly, I’d prefer it more if he’s the one driving and his hand was gripping on my leg as he manoeuvres the wheel.

But pwede naman ’yan sa future.

“I come here sometimes.”

It was such a Milo answer—simple, revealing just enough to make me want to know more. I filed away the information that he had a place he went when he needed to think, wondering what kind of thoughts had brought him here before.

I moved to sit on the hood of the car, tapping the space beside me. When he joined me, he immediately noticed my slight shiver in the cooler air.

Without a word, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around my shoulders. It was warm from his body heat and smelled like his cologne. I pulled it closer, feeling ridiculously pleased by the automatic gesture.

“Thanks,” I said softly.

He just nodded.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the city lights twinkle below us. Eventually, I laid my head on his shoulder, and he shifted to accommodate me, his arm coming around to hold me closer. The solid warmth of him against my side made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t expected.

“So,” I said finally, when the silence became too loaded with unspoken questions. “What now?”

Milo was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was careful.

“Don’t know,” he said honestly. “Never done this.”

“This?”

“Any of it.” He paused, seeming to weigh his words.

The confession sent warmth spreading through my entire body. Milo didn’t share personal information easily, and the fact that he was being vulnerable with me felt significant.

“Me neither,” I admitted. “Not like this.”

“Really?”

I turned my head to look at him. “Really. I’ve had crushes, but they were never… like this.”

He reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together, and brought my knuckles to his lips. The gesture was so soft, so tender, that it made my breath catch. His lips were warm against my skin, and I could feel his breath when he spoke.

“Want to try,” he said against my knuckles. “With you.”

It wasn’t a grand declaration of love or a promise of forever. It was careful and honest and perfectly Milo—an acknowledgment that whatever this was between us was worth exploring.

“I want to,” I said, surprised by how certain I sounded. “I really want to.”

“Good,” he said simply, but I could hear the relief in his voice.

“But I have conditions,” I added, because even in the midst of romantic bliss, I am still Saffron Rose Borromeo, and I still believed in clear expectations.

Milo raised an eyebrow. “Conditions?”

“No more mixed signals. No more hot and cold behavior. If something’s bothering you, you talk to me about it instead of shutting down.”

“Okay.”

“And no more mysterious phone calls that make you disappear. I’m not asking you to share everything with me right away, but if something’s affecting your mood, I need to know it exists.”

Milo was quiet for a moment, and I could see him weighing something in his mind.

“There are things,” he said finally. “Not ready to talk about them.”

“That’s fine. I just need to know that when you’re weird or distant, it’s not about me.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

“Then we’re good.”

“Good,” he agreed, and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“Can I ask you something?” I said after a while.

“Yeah.”

“What changed your mind? You’ve been so careful to keep things just friends. What made you finally admit you were interested?”

Milo was quiet for so long that I started to wonder if he was going to answer at all. When he finally spoke, his voice was thoughtful.

“Tonight. Watching you with him,” he said. “Realized I was going to lose the chance.”

“You were jealous.”

“Yeah,” he said simply, but there was an edge to his voice that made me shiver. “Wanted to punch him.”

The possessiveness in his tone should probably have bothered me, but instead it sent a thrill through my entire body. There was something intoxicating about the idea that calm, controlled Milo had been driven to jealousy over me.

“So you only realized you wanted me because you saw that others also want me?” I asked, needing to know.

“No.” His response was immediate, almost sharp. “I always knew.” He was quiet for a moment, then he continued. “I just kept fighting it. Tonight made me stop being stupid about it.”

The admission hit me harder than any flowery declaration could have. The idea that he’d been aware of his feelings all along, that he’d been actively fighting them, made everything click into place—the study sessions, the territorial behavior, the way he’d pulled back after our almost-kiss.

“Good,” I said, settling more comfortably against his side. “I was hoping that would work.”

“You did that on purpose?”

“Obviously. I’m not subtle, Milo.”

He made a sound that might have been a laugh. “No, you’re not.”

“Is that a problem?”

For answer, he tilted my chin up and kissed me again, slow and thorough, like he had all the time in the world to explore the taste of me. When we broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine.

He didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. The way he was looking at me said everything.

As the last traces of the night faded from the sky, I realized that this was exactly where I wanted to be. Not just physically, but emotionally. After weeks of uncertainty and confusion, I finally felt like I was exactly where I belonged.

“We should probably head back soon,” I said reluctantly. “Sage is going to start sending search parties if wala pa rin ako sa bahay.”

“Five more minutes?” he asked as he stared into my eyes.

“Five more minutes,” I agreed, getting lost in them.

But five minutes turned into ten minutes, then twenty, as we got lost in each other again. Milo’s hands tangled in my hair as he kissed me like he was trying to memorize the taste of me. I pulled him closer, closer, until I was practically in his lap on the hood of the car, my legs wrapped around his waist.

His lips moved from my mouth to my neck, pressing soft kisses along my pulse point that made me gasp. When I tugged on his hair, he made that low sound again—the one that sent heat straight through me.

“Milo,” I breathed, and felt him shiver against me.

“Yeah?”

But I didn’t have words for what I wanted to say, so I just kissed him again, pouring everything into it—all the weeks of wanting him, all the confusion and frustration and desperate need that had been building between us.

We stayed like that as the clear sky slowly began to appear. My lips were swollen, my hair completely messed up, and I could feel the beginning of beard burn on my neck, but I didn’t care.

Every time one of us suggested we should leave, the other would pull them back in for just one more kiss, just one more touch. Milo’s hands on my waist, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the way he said my name against my skin like a prayer.

By the time we finally, reluctantly separated, the first hints of dawn were painting the horizon pink and gold.

“Fuck,” I said, looking at the sunrise. “What time is it?”

Milo checked his phone. “Almost six.”

“Sage is going to kill me.” But even as I said it, I couldn’t bring myself to care. This had been worth the interrogation I was about to get.

“Worth it?” Milo asked, his voice rough from hours of kissing.

I looked at him—hair completely disheveled, lips red and swollen, his shirt wrinkled from my hands—and felt my heart do something complicated in my chest.

“Definitely worth it,” I said, stealing one last kiss before we finally climbed back into the car.

Everything else could wait later.

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Chapter 27

I slipped into the house as quietly as possible, my heart still racing from the night with Milo. The clock in the hallway showed 6:47 AM, and I was praying everyone was still asleep. Maybe I could sneak up to my room, shower, and pretend I’d been home all night.

No such luck.

“Saffron Rose Borromeo.”

Sage’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. I turned to find him sitting in the living room, still wearing his clothes from last night, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was somewhere between worried and furious—fingers crossed that he’s more worried because… well, nakaka-takot si Sage kapag galit. Saw him mad once and made a mental note to never piss him off.

“Hi,” I said weakly.

“Hi?” he repeated, standing up. “That’s it? Hi?”

I tried to smooth down my hair, acutely aware of how I must look. My makeup was smudged, my hair was a complete disaster, and my dress was wrinkled beyond repair. I’d attempted damage control in the car before coming inside, but there was no hiding what I’d been doing for the past several hours.

“I texted you that I got home safe,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Yet you weren’t home.” His eyes swept over my appearance, taking in every detail. “Where were you?”

“Umuwi kaya ako kanina but then I decided that sayang naman ’yung outfit ko, so I went out again.”

Yeah.

I was just digging my grave deeper at this point—even I wouldn’t believe my crappy lies.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” He moved closer, and I could see the genuine concern in his eyes beneath the anger. “You look like you’ve been—” He paused. Like he didn’t want to continue kung anuman iyong susunod na sasabihin niya. Good! Save us both from the embarrassment.

“Akyat na ako—” I said, but then I stopped on my tracks when he continued what he was saying.

“Making out with someone for hours.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right. And the guy I saw you with sa hallway? The one you were arguing with sa parking lot? Wala ring kinalaman?”

My stomach dropped. Of course Sage had connected the dots. My twin brother never missed anything when it came to my safety and well-being.

“That was just a classmate,” I said, which was technically true.

“A classmate you disappeared with for hours.”

“Sage—”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

The question hung in the air between us. I didn’t know how to answer it because I honestly didn’t know what Milo and me were. We’d kissed, we’d talked about wanting to try, but we hadn’t defined anything yet.

“It’s complicated,” I said finally.

“Complicated how?”

“Just… complicated. Can we not do this right now? I’m exhausted.” I paused, then decided to take advantage of his obvious concern for my wellbeing. “Actually, speaking of complicated… I need to ask you for a favor.”

Sage raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “What kind of favor?”

“Can I have your car? As my gift?”

“What? I already gave you a car for your birthday—”

“I know, but I want your car, too.”

Sage looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Do you want to switch cars?”

“No, I want both cars.”

“Both? Bakit kailangan mo ng dalawang sasakyan?” he asked, now confused because he knew that I didn’t really like driving. It’s either hinahatid ako ng driver namin or I force him or any of our cousins to drive me around. It’s so easy.

I shrugged casually. “Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“The dashboard cam,” I said suddenly, completely ignoring his question. “Does it work?”

Kumunot iyong noo ni Sage and then his eyes widened as realization dawned on his face. “Why are you asking about the dashboard cam?” he asked. I just gave him a smile. “Saffron!” he said, his voice rising slightly.

I grinned at him, already backing toward the stairs. “Thanks for the car! I’ll keep the keys na, okay? Thank you. I love having a rich twin!” I paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Also, please don’t tell our parents about this.”

And with that, I ran upstairs toward my room, leaving him standing there with his mouth hanging open and probably regretting every life choice that led to having me as a sister.

---

The weekend passed in a blur of stolen moments and constant texting.

Saturday morning, while I was pretending to study Constitutional Law in my room:

’ Are we doing flash cards via text now?’ I texted because why was Milo asking me to define concepts habang magka-text kami? Couldn’t we just flirt?

‘You started it,’ he replied.

‘When did I start it?’

’ Friday night when you quoted a jurisprudence while I was kissing your neck.’

I nearly choked on my coffee. I had done that, hadn’t I? In the heat of the moment, when his lips had found that sensitive spot below my ear, I’d apparently recited case. In my defense, hindi ko rin alam kung bakit ko ginawa ’yon.

‘That was an involuntary response to stimulation.’

‘What kind of stimulation?’

My cheeks burned as I typed back.

‘You know what kind.’

‘Want to test that theory again?’

‘Are you flirting with me via constitutional law?’

‘Is it working?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Good. Because I have a lot more cases I want to discuss with you.’

Damn.

I love studying.

---

That evening, I was having dinner with my family when my phone vibrated on the table. I glanced down and saw a notification from ‘M’ that made me smile automatically. I’d debated what to save his contact as—‘Milo’ seemed too obvious and would definitely prompt questions from my nosy family. ‘M’ was safer. Worse, he’s a Milo seller and I like Milo. So, what? Illegal na ba magka-contact number ng seller ng favorite drink mo?

‘Finished the digests for tomorrow.’

I nearly choked on my rice. ‘What? Akala ko hati tayo sa workload?’

‘Changed my mind.’

‘Why?’

‘You said you wanted better time management.’

The fact that he’d remembered my offhand comment about balancing studying and spending time with him made something warm flutter in my chest. Trust Milo to find the most practical solution to my time management problem.

‘You didn’t have to do that.’

‘I know.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You can make it up to me later.’

The simple message made my cheeks warm, and I had to bite back a smile.

The smile was apparently obvious enough that Sage looked up from his pasta and glared at me.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“Mukha kang tanga.”

“As if.”

---

Monday morning came, and I found myself practically bouncing with excitement as I got ready for school. I’d been looking forward to seeing Milo all weekend, to having actual conversations instead of flirting via constitutional law.

But as I was applying my lipgloss, I realized something that made me pause.

Milo always came to school right before class started. Which meant if I wanted to see him before class, I’d have to sacrifice my usual study time.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, weighing my options. On one hand, I wanted to spend every possible moment with him. On the other hand, academics were still my priority. I hadn’t worked this hard to get into law school just to let my grades slip because of a guy.

Even a guy who could make me forget my own name when he kissed me.

“But I also like kissing him,” I said to my reflection, then immediately felt ridiculous for talking to myself.

The solution came to me as I was packing my bag. Better time management. If I wanted to have Milo and maintain my grades, I needed to be more efficient with my study time.

Starting now.

I threw myself into my readings with laser focus, determined not to waste a single minute. Every case I analyzed, every note I took, was done with maximum efficiency. If I was going to spend time with Milo after class, then every minute before class needed to be dedicated to studying.

No daydreaming. No Instagram scrolling. No trashtalking Sage in his streams. No thinking about the way Milo looked at me Friday night.

Okay, maybe a little thinking about that last one.

---

I walked into the room and immediately felt Milo’s presence, even though I forced myself not to look in his direction right away. When I finally allowed myself a glance, he was already watching me, and the slight smile that crossed his face made my stomach flutter.

Throughout the entire class, we exchanged meaningful looks. When Sir called on someone else to recite, Milo would catch my eye and raise an eyebrow, as if to say, “Could you have answered that better?” When I took notes on a particularly complex concept, I could feel him watching, and I found myself writing a little neater, as if his observation mattered.

“The case of Lagman v Medialdea ,” Sir was saying as he began to shuffle the classcards. I was confident. I read that case. Sana matawag na ako para tapos na. “Delgado,” Sir called. Lucky.

Milo stood up. “The case reinforced the principle that judicial review is not only a power but a duty of the courts when constitutional questions arise, Sir. It clarified the parameters of when courts can and cannot exercise this power, particularly in cases involving political questions.”

“And what specific test did the Court apply?”

“The Court applied the political question doctrine but narrowed its scope, establishing that courts must distinguish between political questions that are non-justiciable and constitutional questions that require judicial interpretation, regardless of their political implications.”

As he sat down, I caught his eye and mouthed, “Show-off.”

He mouthed back, “Always.”

“Borromeo,” Sir called. Automatic na napa-tayo ako nang marinig ko iyong last name ko. Narinig ba kami ni Sir? Bawal na bang mag-usap ngayon? Nasa martial law na rin ba kami sa classroom na ’to? “Do you agree with Delgado’s analysis?”

I took a deep breath. My heart beating faster—not from nerves about the recitation, but from the challenge in Milo’s expression.

“I agree with the general principle, Sir, but I think Mr. Delgado’s analysis oversimplifies the Court’s reasoning,” I said, earning a surprised look from him. “The case didn’t just narrow the political question doctrine—it fundamentally redefined the relationship between judicial review and democratic accountability. The Court recognized that avoiding constitutional questions in the name of political restraint can actually undermine democratic principles.”

“Elaborate.”

“The ruling emphasized that judicial review serves as a check on majoritarian excesses, Sir. When courts refuse to review governmental actions that arguably violate constitutional rights, they’re not exercising restraint—they’re abdicating their constitutional duty. The case established that the political question doctrine should be applied sparingly, only when there are textually demonstrable constitutional commitments to other branches or when manageable judicial standards are genuinely absent.”

When I sat down, Milo was looking at me with something that might have been admiration mixed with challenge. The same look he’d given me during our early debates, but now with an undercurrent of something warmer.

After class, I was packing my things when my phone buzzed.

‘Smoking area.’

I looked up to find his seat already empty.

The man certainly didn’t waste time.

---

Five minutes later, I found him in the smoking area, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers but not yet lit.

“Nice analysis in there,” he said as I approached.

“Just ‘nice’? I thought I was brilliant.”

“Okay lang.”

I gasped in mock offense. “Okay lang? I just destroyed your entire argument!”

“You expanded on it,” he corrected, lighting his cigarette. “There’s a difference.”

“I corrected your oversimplification.”

“I gave a concise summary; you gave a dissertation.”

“Are you saying I talk too much?”

“I’m saying you never use fifty words when five will do,” he arrogantly said.

Okay.

Why was that so hot of him?

I moved closer to him, close enough that I could smell his cologne over the cigarette smoke. “Is that a criticism?”

“It’s an observation.”

“And what else do you observe?” I asked, my voice dropping to a flirtier tone.

His eyes darkened slightly. “I observe that you’re standing very close to me.”

“I observe that you like it when I stand close to you.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? After Friday night, we’re still at ‘maybe’?”

Instead of answering, he took a drag of his cigarette and tilted his head, studying me. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Studying.”

“After studying.”

“More studying.”

“Saffron.”

The way he said my name, low and slightly impatient, made heat race through my body.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

“Movie.”

“What kind of movie?”

“The kind where we don’t actually watch the movie.”

The blunt honesty of his response made my cheeks burn and my stomach flutter at the same time.

“That sounds like a terrible waste of money,” I said.

“I’ll buy you popcorn to make up for it.”

“Just popcorn?”

“May iba ka pa bang gusto?”

The question was simple, but the way he asked it—like he was prepared to give me anything I asked for—made my breath catch.

“You,” I said simply.

His cigarette stopped halfway to his lips. “You already have me.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.” He dropped the cigarette and stepped closer to me. “You do.”

“Good,” I said, reaching up to brush an imaginary piece of lint off his shirt, just for the excuse to touch him. “Because I was thinking we could discuss cases some more.”

“Were you?”

“Mm-hmm. I have some thoughts about your interpretation of the political question doctrine.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Specifically, I think your analysis lacks nuance.”

“And you want to enlighten me?”

“I want to educate you.”

He laughed—actually laughed—and the sound made something warm bloom in my chest.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s watch a movie.”

“What’s playing?” tanong ko.

“Does it matter?”

“Not really.”

---

Three hours later, we were sitting at the back of a nearly empty movie theater, trying to focus on the screen instead of the way his thigh was pressed against mine in the narrow seats.

The movie was some generic horror film about haunted dolls—the kind of thing that was more funny than scary—but I was having trouble following the plot because every time Milo shifted beside me, my entire body went on high alert.

We’d started the movie sitting normally, but during the first jump scare, I’d grabbed his arm without thinking. Instead of pulling away, he’d moved his arm around my shoulders, and now I was curled into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Ang boring naman nito,” I whispered during a particularly ridiculous scene where the doll was somehow driving a car. “No wonder tayo lang ang nanonood.”

“Mm-hmm,” Milo agreed, but his voice sounded distracted.

I looked up at him and realized he wasn’t watching the screen at all. He was watching me.

“What?” I whispered.

Instead of answering, he leaned down and kissed me, soft and quick.

The taste of him, the familiar scent of his cologne, the way his hand tightened on my shoulder—it all hit me at once, and suddenly I couldn’t remember why I’d thought we’d be able to sit through an entire movie without touching each other.

When he pulled away, we were both breathing harder than the brief kiss warranted.

“Milo,” I whispered, and something in my tone made his eyes go dark.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t care about this movie.”

“Good,” he said, his voice rough. “Neither do I.”

This time, when he kissed me, there was nothing soft or quick about it. His lips were warm and demanding, and I could taste the mint from his gum and something that was just him. I turned in my seat to face him better, my hand fisting in the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer.

The kiss deepened, and I forgot completely that we were in public, that there were other people in the theater, that there was supposed to be a movie playing. All I could focus on was the way Milo’s hand had moved to cup the back of my neck, the way his thumb was tracing patterns against my skin that made me want to melt into him completely.

When we broke apart, both of us breathing hard, I realized we’d both slid down in our seats and turned toward each other as much as the armrest would allow. I was practically leaning into his chest, and his hand had somehow found its way to rest on my knee where it was angled toward him.

“Fuck,” he breathed against my lips, and the word sent shivers down my spine.

“We should probably—” I started, but he was kissing me again before I could finish the thought.

This time, his lips moved from my mouth to my jaw, pressing soft kisses along the line of it that made my breath catch. When he reached the sensitive spot just below my ear, I had to bite my lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

“Saffron,” he whispered against my neck, and the sound of my name in his voice, rough with want, made something hot and desperate unfurl in my stomach.

I pulled back just enough to look at him, taking in his disheveled hair, his slightly swollen lips, the way his eyes were dark and focused entirely on me.

“This is crazy,” I whispered.

“I know.”

“We’re in a movie theater.”

“I know.”

“People could see us.”

“I don’t care.”

The admission sent heat racing through my entire body. Controlled, careful Milo didn’t care if people saw us. Controlled, careful Milo was looking at me like he wanted to devour me, public setting be damned.

“Okay,” I whispered, “Please kiss me again,” I breathed and he didn’t need to be asked twice.

This kiss was hungrier than the others, like we’d been starving and were finally allowed to feast. His hand tightened on my thigh, and I pressed closer to him, wishing there weren’t armrests between us, wishing we were anywhere but a movie theater where I had to be careful about how much noise I made.

When his tongue swept across my bottom lip, I opened for him immediately, and the taste of him, the feel of him, made me dizzy with want. This was what I’d been missing all those weeks of careful friendship and academic discussions—this heat, this desperation, this feeling of being completely consumed by someone.

My hands found their way into his hair, and when I tugged gently, he made a low sound in the back of his throat that made me want to climb into his lap right there in the theater.

“Fuck, Saffron,” he breathed against my mouth, and the way he said my name—like it was something precious and necessary at the same time—made my entire body light up.

We were so lost in each other that we didn’t notice the credits rolling until the lights came up, suddenly and blindingly bright.

We sprang apart like teenagers caught by their parents, both of us blinking in the harsh fluorescent lighting. I could feel that my hair was messed up, that my lips were swollen, that my shirt had somehow gotten wrinkled during our makeout session.

“Shit,” I said, trying to smooth down my hair while Milo ran a hand through his own, which was sticking up at odd angles from my fingers.

“We should go,” he said, his voice still rough.

“Yeah. Before they kick us out for public indecency.”

As we gathered our things—when had my bag ended up on the floor?—I caught sight of our reflection in the theater’s mirrored wall. We looked exactly like what we were—two people who’d spent the last hour and a half making out like their lives depended on it.

“Do I look okay?” I asked, trying to fix my makeup without a mirror.

Milo stopped walking and turned to look at me, his gaze sweeping over my face with an intensity that made my stomach flutter.

He simply nodded, and the matter-of-fact way he did it made my breath catch.

“Even with my makeup all smudged?”

“Especially with your makeup all smudged.”

---

We made it all the way to the parking garage before Milo pressed me against the side of Sage’s car and kissed me again, deeper and more desperate than before. I was just so thankful that the mall was already closed and it was just us in an almost empty parking.

“I can’t stop,” he said against my lips, his hands gripping my waist like he was afraid I might disappear.

“Then don’t,” I whispered back, and kissed him again.

This time, there was no pretense of restraint. His hands were in my hair, mine were fisted in his shirt, and we were kissing like we were trying to make up for all the weeks we’d spent pretending we didn’t want each other.

When his lips moved to my neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against my pulse point, I had to grip the car door handle to keep my knees from giving out.

“Milo,” I gasped, and felt him smile against my skin.

“Like it matters,” he murmured, his voice muffled against my throat.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like it matters.”

The simple admission made something warm spread through my chest. Because my name did matter—at least to him. And his mattered to me in a way I was still trying to understand.

“It does matter,” I said quietly, and felt him smile against my skin.

He pulled back to look at me, his expression soft and a little wondering.

“This is crazy,” he said.

“What is?”

“How much I want to kiss you all the time now.”

“Now that you know you can?”

“Now that I know you want me to,” he said as he caressed my cheek with his thumb. “I should probably get you home,” Milo said eventually, though he made no move to step away from me.

“Actually,” I said, suddenly feeling shy, “Can I drive you home? Since it’s already late?”

I tried to keep my tone casual, but inside I was holding my breath. We’d been making out for hours, but asking where he lived felt like crossing into different territory—more personal, more real.

Milo looked at me for a long moment, and I could see him weighing something in his mind. The silence stretched long enough that I started to backtrack.

“I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine. I know we’re still figuring things out and—”

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“Okay?”

He gave a small nod. The relief that flooded through me was probably disproportionate to the situation, but I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.

“Okay. Good.”

We stood there for a moment, fixing each other’s appearance in that intimate way that felt more personal than all the kissing we’d been doing.

“Better?” I asked after smoothing down his hair.

“Better,” he agreed, but his hand lingered in my hair. “Though I kind of like you looking like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like this,” he simply said as he stared at me, like he was breathing it all in the same way that I did.

The simple admission made my cheeks burn. There was something about the way he said it—not possessive or claiming, just… pleased. Like he was happy to be the reason I looked disheveled.

“I like it, too,” I admitted quietly.

---

Twenty minutes later, I was pulling up in front of a decent apartment building in the center of Manila. It wasn’t fancy, but it was clean and well-maintained, the kind of place a responsible college student might live.

I turned off the engine and looked at the building, filing away this new piece of information about him. His apartment. His neighborhood. Another small window into who he was outside of law school.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said.

“Thanks for letting me,” I replied, meaning it. I knew that this was all new for him—pero sa akin din naman. I was just thankful that he was true to his word of not shutting me out. Kahit mabagal, I was thankful that he’s letting me in.

We sat there for a moment in the quiet of the car, both of us seemingly reluctant to end the evening.

“I should let you go,” I said finally, though what I really wanted was to ask if I could come up, if we could keep talking, if this night had to end at all.

But I didn’t. We were still figuring this out, still learning each other’s boundaries.

“Okay,” he agreed, but instead of getting out, he leaned over and kissed me again, soft and lingering.

“Drive carefully,” he said against my lips. “Text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

As I watched him walk toward his building, I realized that this was completely new territory for me. I’d never felt this desperate for someone’s touch, this hungry for more even when we’d been together for hours. I’d never been with someone who could make me forget where I was, who could make me want to throw caution to the wind.

It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

But as I started the car and pulled away from the curb, I realized I didn’t care about the terror part.

I was exactly where I wanted to be.

This story is already at Chapter 39 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 28

I woke up Tuesday morning with a smile already on my face, my phone buzzing with a text that I knew would make my day better.

‘Good morning,’ Milo texted. In fairness… una na siyang nagtetext ngayon.

‘Good morning! Ready for another day of academic domination?’

‘Is that what you’re calling it?’

‘What would you call it?’ I asked.

‘Showing off.’

‘Says the guy who quoted three different Supreme Court decisions in yesterday’s recitation.’

’ That was necessary context. Saka ‘di naniniwala si Sir na nagbasa ako.’

’How could he think that? Super tama kaya ‘yung sagot mo. Just admit that that was you being a smart-ass.’

‘You like my ass.’

Kung umiinom lang ako ng kape, I would’ve choked on it. Direct flirtation via text was still new territory for us, but I definitely wasn’t complaining—definitely not.

‘I like your brain more.’

‘Just my brain?’

‘And your face. And your hands. And the way you—’

I paused mid-text, suddenly thinking about something more… normal. I erased what I just typed. Tsk. Umagang-umaga, Saffie!

‘Actually, speaking of brains… how are you reviewing for finals? Like, balancing everything?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, you’re working din kaya. How do you manage your time?’

There was a longer pause before his reply came.

But he’s working, right? Hindi ko pa lang alam exactly kung saan. I wanted to ask but somehow, when it came to Milo, hindi ko pa rin alam kung paano itanong exactly iyong mga bagay na gusto kong malaman.

‘I work around it.’

‘Does your boss know you’re a law student? Like, do they give you time to study?’

‘Yes.’

I stared at his answer, sensing I was treading into territory he wasn’t comfortable discussing. But before I could decide whether to push or let it go, another text came through.

‘Thanks for worrying about me.’

‘Always.’

‘Don’t worry too much though. I’ll still get higher grades than you.’

‘Excuse me???’

‘I said what I said.’

‘We’ll see about that, Delgado.’

‘Looking forward to it, Borromeo.’

The confidence in his response made me grin despite myself. This was the Milo I’d fallen for—competitive, sure of himself, never backing down from a challenge.

---

By 7:00AM, I was already settled in my usual library corner, textbooks spread out in front of me in organized chaos. I had my highlighter system laid out precisely—green for terms, pink for definitions, purple for very important need-to-remember concepts, yellow for enumerations, and orange for jurisprudence.

Most people thought it was excessive—I called it efficient.

“Very type A of you.”

I looked up to find Milo approaching my table, his familiar messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He was supposed to be heading straight to our classroom for our 6PM class, but here he was.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, though I was secretly pleased to see him.

“Thought we could walk to class together.”

I pursed my lips. Grabe… ganito ba kapag may something? Sabay kaming papasok sa class? Because I definitely could get used to this!

“Oh, okay. Pero mamaya pa ’yung class,” I said kasi it was only 5:05PM. Based on my sched, 5:30PM pa ako pupunta sa classroom. It’s my preferred schedule—I have enough time to do small talks with my blockmates but not long enough na mawawala ako sa focus sa kung anuman ’yung ni-review ko.

“I know.” He settled into the chair across from me, studying my elaborate color-coding system. “This is very… systematic.”

“Don’t mock my methods. They work.”

“Green for…?”

“Terms. Pink for definitions. Purple for very important things I need to remember. Yellow for enumerations. Orange for jurisprudence.”

“And if something is both a term and jurisprudence?”

“I use both colors, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He was trying not to smile. “Very you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re exactly who you are, and it’s…” He paused, seeming to search for the right word. “You.”

The way he said it, matter-of-fact and warm at the same time, made my stomach flutter.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I said, trying to hide how much his words affected me.

“Good to know.”

We settled into comfortable study mode, though I found myself stealing glances at him as he worked through his own notes. He was focused in that intense way of his, like every case, every concept, was crucial to memorize perfectly.

“Nervous?” I asked after watching him reread the same page three times.

“Always.”

“You don’t look nervous. You look determined.”

“Same thing, different expression.”

While we were studying, some students were talking about the final examinations.

Right. Finals. My stomach dropped. That’s one-third of our final grade. That was… significant.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

“Language, Borromeo,” Milo said, but there was amusement in his voice.

“Says the guy who drops f-bombs during makeout sessions.”

“That’s different.”

“How is that different?”

“Context.”

“Oh, so swearing during academic stress is inappropriate, but swearing during… other activities is perfectly fine?”

“Exactly.”

I was about to respond with something equally ridiculous when I noticed several other students glancing in our direction.

“We should probably continue this conversation somewhere else,” I said.

---

We went to class shortly after. For some reason, super agit si Sir magpa-recit kasi gusto niya ata na matawag kaming lahat. I was so stressed dahil sa bilis niya magtawag sa recit. I almost wanted to throw up dahil ang tagal kong matawag and karamihan nung cases na ni-review ko, natawag na sa iba naming classmates.

“Delgado,” Sir called suddenly.

Milo stood up with his usual composed confidence, but I caught him glancing at me briefly before he began. My hands were literally shaking due to nerves because I knew that any time now, matatawag na ako… and I wasn’t very confident! I didn’t expect na ganito kabilis iyong recitation!

“Elaborate on the Court’s reasoning,” Sir said. Fuck. Case na naman!

Milo began his recitation… and I knew exactly what Milo was doing. His usual recitations were precise and concise—he’d answer the question thoroughly but efficiently. Today, he was drawing it out, giving detailed explanations, citing additional cases, expanding on every point.

“And how does this relate to our previous discussion?” Sir asked.

Milo kept going, weaving in references to related cases, discussing the historical development of the doctrine, analyzing different constitutional provisions. I could see Sir getting slightly impatient, but Milo was being so thorough and accurate that there was no reason to cut him off.

Twenty minutes. Milo recited for twenty full minutes until Sir finally looked at the clock and realized class time was almost over.

“That will suffice, Mr. Delgado.”

As Milo sat down, I caught his eye and mouthed “Thank you.” He just gave me the slightest nod.

“We’ll continue with recitations next session,” Sir announced, packing up his things. “Class dismissed.”

The relief that flooded through me was so intense I nearly slumped in my chair. Milo had deliberately saved me from what would have been a disaster recitation when I was too nervous to think straight.

After class, as we were gathering our things, I waited until the classroom had mostly cleared before turning to him.

“You did that on purpose,” I said.

“Did what?”

“The twenty-minute recitation. You usually answer in five minutes max.”

“Maybe I was feeling particularly articulate today.”

“Milo.”

He looked at me directly then, and I could see the hint of amusement in his eyes.

“You looked like you were about to pass out,” he said simply. “Figured you could use a few more minutes to collect yourself.”

The casual way he said it, like it was no big deal, made my chest tighten with emotion. He’d noticed my stress and found a way to help without making it obvious or embarrassing.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “Really. I was spiraling.”

“I know.”

“How did you know?”

“You were death-gripping your pen. And you kept checking the classcards like you were calculating when your turn would come.”

The fact that he’d been paying that much attention to my state of mind, that he’d cared enough to intervene, made something warm spread through my chest.

“I owe you one,” I said.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. That was—”

“Saffron.” His voice was gentle but firm. “You don’t owe me anything.”

The way he said it reminded me of our previous conversations, of his insistence on paying, of his pride about not needing help from anyone. But this was different—this was him helping me, protecting me, without being asked.

“Coffee?” he suggested, changing the subject before I could analyze the moment further.

“Yeah,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “But I’m paying this time.”

He just gave me a small nod.

---

Our usual coffee shop was busier than normal, filled with other students who’d apparently had the same post-class idea… totoo nga na finals na. No more time for slacking. Kahit after class, magrereview pa rin. We managed to find a small table in the back corner, away from the main crowd.

“Same order?” I asked as we approached the counter.

“Yeah.”

I reached for my wallet with determined purpose, but Milo’s hand shot out to stop me.

“I’ve got it,” he said firmly.

“Milo, after what you just did for me, I should definitely be buying coffee.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“How what works?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between us. “You don’t pay me back for things like that.”

“But—”

“Saffron.” His tone was final. “I’ve got it.”

I let it go, but filed away the observation. Even when I had a legitimate reason to insist on paying—gratitude for literally saving my academic reputation—he still wouldn’t let me. This pattern was becoming impossible to ignore.

As we waited for our drinks, I found myself really looking at him. His clothes were nice—well-fitted, good quality—but I was starting to realize it was the same rotation of maybe five or six outfits. His textbooks were all borrowed from the library, I’d noticed, with those plastic protective covers and due date stamps.

Not that any of this mattered. Hindi naman ako nag-judge based on money. But the pieces were starting to form a picture that made me understand why he was so insistent about paying for things. And honestly? Whatever he wore, he looked good. Gwapo naman kasi talaga si Milo—he just carried everything well.

“Here,” Milo said, handing me my iced americano.

“Thanks.”

We’d barely settled at our table when I heard familiar voices approaching.

“Saff!” Sheena’s voice rang out across the coffee shop. “Andito ka pala!”

I turned to see Sheena, Rica, James, and Kevin making their way toward our table, all of them carrying coffee cups and study materials.

“Hi, guys,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Milo and I had planned this as our private study session—basically our version of a study date—but clearly the universe had other plans.

“Mind if we join?” James asked, already pulling out a chair. “We saw you from across the shop and thought we could make it a group study session.”

“Sure,” Milo said before I could respond, though I caught the slight tightness around his eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” I added, though internally I was sighing. There went our quiet, intimate study time.

As our blockmates settled around the table, spreading out their notes and books, I felt Milo’s hand find mine under the table. His fingers laced through mine, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my skin, and suddenly the disappointment of our ruined study date didn’t seem as important.

“So,” Rica said, opening her Criminal Law textbook, “sino nakagets ng discussion yesterday sa Crim?”

“Which part?” Kevin asked, flipping through his notes.

“The whole thing,” Rica replied dramatically. “I swear, minsan I think Sir just likes watching us suffer.”

“Criminal Law isn’t that hard,” James said. “You just need to understand the fundamental principles and how they apply to different cases.”

“Easy for you to say,” Sheena muttered. “Some of us didn’t grow up in families of lawyers.”

I felt Milo’s hand tighten slightly on mine at that comment, though his expression remained neutral.

“Anyway,” Rica said, “let’s focus on the cases for finals. May mga specific na ba tayong dapat i-prioritize?”

For the next hour, we worked through various law concepts, with everyone contributing to the discussion. I found myself stealing glances at Milo, watching the way he engaged with the group while still maintaining that subtle connection with me under the table.

His thumb never stopped its gentle caresses, and every so often he’d squeeze my hand when I made a particularly good point or when James would lean a little too close while explaining something to me.

“Speaking of finals,” Kevin said during a lull in our case discussion, “what are everyone’s plans for sembreak? Kayo, Saff?”

“I don’t know yet,” I said automatically, then realized I had no idea what Milo’s plans were either. I looked at him, suddenly curious. “What about you, Milo?”

“Work,” he said simply.

“Work?” Sheena asked. “Like, part-time work or what?”

“Something like that.”

I felt a little pang of disappointment. Work meant he’d be busy during our break. “You don’t work 24/7 naman, right?” I whispered, trying to keep my tone light. “We can still meet up?”

Milo nodded, squeezing my hand under the table. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” I said, relieved.

“San ka nagta-trabaho?” James asked with genuine curiosity.

Milo just shrugged and then proceeded to ask James a question about class. I noticed how he deflected personal questions without being rude about it. It was a skill he’d perfected, I was realizing.

“Lucky,” Rica said. “I wish I had the motivation to work during breaks. I’m probably just going to sleep for two weeks straight.”

“Same,” Sheena agreed. “After finals, my brain is going to need a complete reset.”

The conversation moved on to other topics—professors they loved and hated, cases they were struggling with, plans for the next semester. But I found myself only half-listening, my attention focused on the way Milo’s thumb continued its gentle caresses on my hand, the way he would catch my eye occasionally and give me small, private smiles.

When our study session finally wrapped up around 2AM, our blockmates packed up their things and said their goodbyes.

“See you tomorrow—I mean see you later!” Sheena called out as they headed toward the exit.

“Bye!” I waved back, then turned to Milo. “Drive around?” I asked him kasi wala pa kaming personal time together!

“Yeah.”

But before we could head out, James caught up with us sa parking area.

“Hey Saff,” he called out, jogging slightly to reach us. “Are you driving Milo home?”

I froze. The question hung in the air between us, and I could feel Milo tense beside me. I had no idea how to answer. Would he be embarrassed? Would it hurt his pride na alam ng blockmates namin that he doesn’t have a car?

I mean, it was totally fine with me to drive him around. It was bonding time for us, and I genuinely enjoyed it. But I couldn’t gauge his reaction, and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“Uh,” I started, glancing at Milo who was looking at me with an unreadable expression.

“Yeah,” I said finally, forcing a casual tone. “I brought him here kaya I’ll bring him back din.”

It was a lie, and we all knew it. We’d walked together from the library to the coffee shop. But it gave Milo an out, a way to save face.

“Cool,” James said, oblivious to the tension. “Drive safe! See you guys tomorrow.”

“See you,” I replied, waiting until James was out of earshot before turning to Milo.

“Ready?” I asked quietly.

He just nodded.

We were about halfway to his apartment when he finally spoke.

“Why did you lie to James?”

The question caught me off guard. “What?”

“About bringing me to the coffee shop. We walked together from the library.”

Oh. I felt heat creep up my neck. “I just… I didn’t want to make it awkward.”

“Awkward for who?”

“For you,” I said quietly.

“You think I’m embarrassed that I don’t have a car?”

I glanced at him, trying to read his expression. “Are you?”

“No.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “But apparently you are.”

“I’m not—”

“Then why lie?”

I didn’t have a good answer for that. The truth was, I’d panicked. I’d seen James’s casual question and immediately assumed it would embarrass Milo, so I’d tried to protect him. But now I was realizing that my protection implied I thought he needed protecting.

“I was trying to help,” I said lamely.

“By making it seem like something to be ashamed of?”

“No, that’s not—”

“That’s exactly what you did.” His tone wasn’t angry, just… disappointed. “You think I need you to cover for me.”

“Milo, I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t have a car because it’s not a priority right now. That’s not a secret; it’s just a fact.”

The way he said it, so straightforward and unapologetic, made me feel even worse about my reaction.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have lied.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

We drove the rest of the way in tense silence. When I pulled up to his apartment, he turned to look at me.

“I don’t need you to protect me, Saffron. Especially not from things I’m not ashamed of.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do it again.”

The firmness in his voice, the way he said it like a warning, made it clear that this was about more than just a car. This was about respect, about not treating him like he was something fragile that needed to be handled carefully.

“I won’t,” I promised.

He studied my face for a moment, then nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

As I watched him walk toward his building, I realized I’d learned something important about Milo tonight. His pride wasn’t about insecurity—it was about dignity. He didn’t want my pity or my protection. He wanted my respect.

And I’d have to be more careful not to confuse the two.

This story is already at Chapter 40 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 29

I woke up Wednesday morning without my usual smile, staring at my phone screen na walang mga texts waiting for me. For the first time since we’d been… whatever we were, wala akong good morning message from Milo.

The silence felt loud.

I started typing a message three different times, deleting each attempt. What was I supposed to say? Sorry for… what exactly? I still wasn’t entirely sure what I’d done wrong, just that Milo had been disappointed in me, and that feeling sat heavy in my chest.

My phone buzzed.

‘Good morning.’

Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by guilt. He was still texting first, still making the effort, even after whatever had happened between us last night.

‘Morning. How are you?’

‘Okay. You?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’

‘For last night. For whatever I did wrong.’

‘We’ll talk later.’

That was it. No reassurance, no “it’s fine,” just “we’ll talk later.” Which somehow made everything feel worse.

I tried to focus on getting ready for school, but my mind kept replaying our conversation in the car. The disappointment in his voice when he’d said “Don’t do it again.” The way he’d looked at me like I’d fundamentally misunderstood something important.

Maybe I had.

---

By 7AM, I was settled in my usual library corner, but instead of my normal productive morning routine, I found myself staring at the same page for twenty minutes without processing a single word.

This was ridiculous. Why was I letting a boy drama affect my academic performance?

But apparently, I also didn’t know how to handle my first real relationship conflict.

Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Our first fight as a… couple? Whatever we were calling ourselves.

I pulled out my phone and typed another message.

‘Can we talk? I know you’re at work but maybe on your break?’

I hit send before I could overthink it, then immediately regretted it. What if he was busy? What if I was bothering him?

I knew he was busy at work, but also, I couldn’t focus on studying with this hovering over my head. I looked around the library, suddenly aware that taking a personal call here wasn’t exactly appropriate. I gathered my things quickly and headed toward the back section—the Filipiniana collection na nobody ever used. It was quiet and private, perfect for conversations I didn’t want anyone overhearing.

I dialed his number… hanggang matapos iyong pagriring. I felt my heart getting heavier, but I kept on telling myself na nasa work lang si Milo. Of course it would be illogical of me to expect na magrereply siya agad-agad.

But then my phone rang.

I felt my stomach twisting when I saw M on the screen of my phone.

“Saffron?”

“Hi,” I said, relieved to hear his voice.

“Sorry, I had to go outside. Hindi pwede personal calls sa work.”

“Oh.” Guilt hit me immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble—”

“You didn’t. I just needed to step out.”

There was something in his tone that made my chest warm. He’d left work, walked outside, just to talk to me.

“Are you okay?” he asked when I didn’t respond immediately.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I feel like I messed up last night and I don’t even know how to fix it.”

“What do you think you messed up?”

“I—” I paused. “Lying to James? Making you think I was ashamed of you not having a car? I honestly don’t know, Milo. I just know you were disappointed and I hate that feeling.”

There was a pause before he spoke again.

“Did we fight?”

“Duh,” I said, then immediately felt bad for the sarcastic tone. “I mean, yes. Didn’t we?”

“Ah.” I could almost hear him thinking. “I thought we were just stating what we’re comfortable with and what we’re not.”

“That… that’s what you call it?”

“What would you call it?”

“A fight? An argument? You were upset with me.”

“I was disappointed that you felt the need to lie. But upset with you? No.”

Hindi ko alam if that made me feel better or worse. If he wasn’t upset, then why did I feel like something had fundamentally shifted between us?

“Saffron,” he said gently, “we don’t really know each other yet. Not completely. It’s going to take time before we can really understand each other’s boundaries, each other’s triggers. During that transition, I hope you won’t think every honest conversation is a fight. Because it’s not.”

His words should have been reassuring, but something about his tone still felt off to me.

“Okay,” I said, though I was pouting even though he couldn’t see me. “But your tone kasi. You sounded… cold.”

“I always speak like that.”

“Hindi kaya. You sound different when you’re explaining cases versus when you’re talking to me. Last night you sounded like you were explaining cases.”

There was another pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer.

“I wasn’t trying to be cold. I was trying to be clear.”

“Clear about what?”

“About what I need from you. Which is respect for who I am, including the parts of my life that might be different from yours.”

“I do respect you—”

“I know you do. But sometimes your instinct to protect me comes across as thinking I can’t handle things myself.”

I wanted to argue, to explain that protection and respect weren’t mutually exclusive. But maybe he had a point. Maybe my intentions didn’t matter if the impact was making him feel like I saw him as fragile.

“I’m learning,” I said quietly.

“I know. We both are.”

The admission that he was learning too made me feel slightly better.

“Saffron, I need to get back to work.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah. Library at 5?”

“Okay.”

“And Saffron?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you want to apologize, just tell me what you’re apologizing for first. Blanket apologies don’t actually fix anything.”

Oh.

He’s right—as always, he’s right again.

After he hung up, I sat in the empty Filipiniana section for a few more minutes, processing our conversation. The fact that he’d had to step outside work just to talk to me made something flutter in my chest. He could have just texted back or ignored my call completely, but instead he’d prioritized making sure we were okay.

That had to mean something, right?

---

The rest of my day was spent trying to focus on studying with limited success. I kept replaying our conversation, analyzing every word choice, every pause. By the time 5 PM rolled around, I was anxious to see him, to gauge whether things were really okay between us.

I was already in the library when I saw him approaching my table, and the relief that washed over me when he smiled—a small, real smile—was almost overwhelming.

“Hi,” he said, settling into the chair across from me.

“Hi.”

“Better day?” he asked, noting the textbooks actually open in front of me instead of the single page I’d been staring at that morning.

“Much better. You?”

“Good. Ready for class?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Walking to class together felt normal again, the tension from the night before mostly dissolved. We fell into our usual comfortable conversation about the day’s cases, our weekend plans, normal things that made me feel like we were back on solid ground.

After class, we grabbed dinner at a small restaurant near campus, and then headed to our usual coffee shop for more studying. Finals were approaching fast, and the pressure was mounting for everyone in our college.

We’d been reviewing cases for about an hour when I decided to bring up something I’d been thinking about all day.

“So,” I said during a natural lull in our discussion, trying to keep my tone casual, “are you free this weekend?”

“Not sure,” he said, not looking up from his notes.

“Okay but what about Sunday? Like Sunday dinner? My family does this thing where we all get together, and I thought maybe…” I trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid for even asking.

“Not sure.”

“Oh.” I tried not to let the disappointment show on my face. “What about Saturday evening? We won’t have classes so you’ll have time after work, right?”

Milo looked up at me then, and I could see him weighing something.

“What kind of family dinner?” he asked carefully.

“Nothing formal. Just… dinner. Or maybe you could meet Sage? He’s been asking questions and I thought it might be easier if he could just meet you instead of imagining the worst.”

“Your brother’s been asking questions?”

“He’s protective. Annoying, but protective.”

Milo studied my face for a long moment, and I could see the internal debate happening behind his eyes.

“Just your brother?” he asked finally.

I nodded. “Just Sage. Not my parents or anything. I know that might be… a lot.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I can meet your brother.”

The relief and excitement that flooded through me was probably disproportionate to what he’d actually agreed to, but I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Part of me had been expecting another deflection, another vague excuse about work. The fact that he’d said yes, that he was willing to meet Sage, felt like progress.

Even if meeting my twin brother was probably just as intimidating as meeting my parents.

---

We studied for another two hours, the atmosphere between us finally feeling completely back to normal. When we finally packed up our things, I was surprised when Milo made an unexpected request.

“Can we stop somewhere on the way?” he asked as we walked toward the parking area.

“Sure. Where?”

“Gas station.”

I figured he needed to buy something from the convenience store, so I pulled into the first gas station we passed. But instead of getting out, Milo just looked at me expectantly.

“What?” I asked.

“Your gas tank.”

“What about it?”

“It’s almost empty.”

I looked at my gauge. He was right—I was running on fumes. I’d been so distracted by our relationship drama that I’d completely forgotten to fill up.

“Oh, thanks for noticing. I’ll get it tomorrow—”

“Let me pay for it now.”

I stared at him. “Milo, no. It’s fine.”

“Just let me pay.”

“But—”

I stopped myself before I could finish the protest. This was about last night, wasn’t it? About dignity and respect and not making him feel like charity case.

But the guilt that washed over me was almost overwhelming. I could easily afford to fill up my tank—it was pocket change for me. For Milo, who had to work hard for every peso, it was probably a significant expense.

“Okay,” I said quietly.

“Thank you.”

The simple gratitude in his voice made me feel even worse. He was thanking me for letting him spend money he couldn’t afford, and I was supposed to feel good about this?

I watched as he handed his payment for the gas. The bills were crisp—na para bang kaka-withdraw niya lang mula sa sweldo niya. I felt so bad, but I tried to remind myself that this was what he needed. That letting him contribute in whatever way he could was more important than the practical economics of who could better afford it.

But it still felt wrong.

---

After the gas station, I drove him home in relative silence. Not uncomfortable silence, just… thoughtful silence. I was processing the day, the conversation, the small gestures that felt loaded with meaning.

When I pulled up to his apartment, instead of getting out immediately like he usually did, Milo turned in his seat to face me. He reached over and cupped my face with one hand, his thumb tracing across my cheekbone in that gentle way that always made my heart race.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Then he leaned in and kissed me, soft and sweet and perfect.

When he pulled away, I must have looked as conflicted as I felt because his expression immediately grew concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…” I struggled to find the right words. “I hate that you feel like you have to pay for things to prove something to me.”

“I don’t. I want to.”

“But why? You’re a working student. It doesn’t make sense for you to pay for my gas.”

I tried really hard to choose my words, but I didn’t know what words to choose to describe our situation. It wasn’t as if I was looking down on him—not at all. I just understand that he’s working—he’s a working student. I knew how hard that could be kasi naging working student din ang parents ko. They kept on reminding us to appreciate being full time students because working while studying wasn’t easy at all.

So, I just wanted to ease the burden for him…

“It makes sense to me.”

“But—”

“Saffron.” He was quiet for a moment, then asked something that completely surprised me. “Do you want to come inside?”

My eyes widened. In all our weeks of dating, he’d never invited me up to his apartment. I’d dropped him off dozens of times, but the invitation had never been extended.

“Yes,” I said immediately.

“It’s small,” he said, seeming suddenly self-conscious. “Saka hindi ako nakapaglinis kasi nagmamadali ako kanina.”

“I don’t care,” I said, probably too eagerly.

His apartment was on the third floor of a well-maintained building. It wasn’t fancy, but it was clean and clearly cared for. The space was small—a studio basically, with a bed in one corner, a tiny kitchen along one wall, and a small table that doubled as both dining area and study space.

But it was neat and organized, with law textbooks stacked carefully on shelves and a few personal touches that made it feel like home.

“It looks cozy,” I said, and I meant it.

“Hmm.”

I was taking everything in, trying to learn more about this person I was falling for through the space he’d created for himself. Law books dominated most surfaces, but there were a few other things—a coffee mug with a law school logo, a small plant on the windowsill that looked well-cared for, and on the small table, a framed photo.

I moved closer to look at it. The photo showed a young couple, probably in their thirties, standing together and smiling at the camera. The woman had Milo’s eyes, and the man had his strong jawline.

“Are these your parents?” I asked softly.

“Yeah.”

There was something in his voice that made me turn to look at him. He was standing by the door, hands in his pockets, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“They look happy,” I said.

“They were.”

“Were?”

“They’re gone.”

The simple statement hit me like a physical blow. I’d known there was something about his family situation that was complicated, but I hadn’t expected this.

“Milo, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It felt like forever.”

But looking at him now, seeing the careful way he was holding himself, I could tell it wasn’t okay. Maybe it never would be completely okay.

All the guilt I’d been feeling about the gas, about money, about our different circumstances, suddenly intensified. Here I was, worried about him spending money on my gas, when he didn’t even have parents anymore. When he was completely alone in the world, working to support himself through law school, trying to build a future without any family safety net.

Without thinking, I crossed the small space between us and wrapped my arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered against his chest.

I felt him smile against the top of my head as his arms came around me.

“For what? You didn’t kill them,” he said, his tone deliberately light.

“Milo, that’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

I pulled back to look at him, and sure enough, there was amusement in his eyes. Not sadness, not the heavy emotion I’d expected. Just… Milo being Milo, deflecting with dry humor.

“How can you joke about that?”

“Because if I don’t, you’ll start crying and then I’ll have to comfort you about my own dead parents. Which seems backwards.”

Despite myself, I felt a small smile tug at my lips. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m practical.”

“Are you okay though? Like, really okay?”

He nodded. “I’m fine.”

The matter-of-fact way he said it, like he’d long since processed this grief and moved on, was somehow both reassuring and heartbreaking… but also it sounded like he had no choice but to move on.

“Besides,” he added, still holding me close, “feeling sorry for me isn’t going to bring them back. And it’s definitely not going to help me pass finals.”

“Is that your way of saying we should get back to studying?”

“No, that’s my way of saying stop looking at me like I’m a tragic orphan character from one of those shows you watch.”

I laughed despite myself. “You kind of are though.”

“Tragic, maybe. But definitely better looking kaysa sa mga lalaki sa following list mo sa Instagram.”

My eyes widened. “I knew it! You were stalking me talaga!”

Milo just shrugged. I pinched his nose and he was smiling and I couldn’t help but stand on my tippy toes and kiss him.

What started as a playful kiss quickly turned into something deeper. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer as I melted against him. This felt different from our usual stolen moments in parking lots or empty hallways—here in his apartment, surrounded by his books and his life, everything felt more intimate, more real. His lips moved against mine slowly, deliberately, like we had all the time in the world. When he traced his thumb along my jawline, I sighed into his mouth, and I felt him smile against my lips.

There was no urgency, no fear of being caught—just us, finally having a space that was completely ours, even if only for tonight.

And then somehow we were sitting on the floor, with our backs against the edge of his bed, my head resting on his shoulder while his arm stayed wrapped around me. Neither of us had suggested moving there—it just happened naturally, like we both wanted to stay close but also wanted to talk, really talk.

I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want this moment to end—this feeling of finally being somewhere private with him, somewhere that felt completely ours. There in his small apartment, with the soft glow of his desk lamp and the sound of Manila traffic fading outside, I realized this was the most honest conversation we’d had yet. Not about law school or our classmates or surface-level things, but about who we actually were underneath all the careful politeness we usually maintained.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on my arm as we talked about everything and nothing—his favorite coffee shops in the city, my ridiculous highlighter obsession, the way we both felt like outsiders sometimes even when surrounded by people. Small confessions that felt bigger in the quiet intimacy of his space, like we were finally letting each other see the real versions of ourselves instead of the polished facades we wore everywhere else.

This story is already at Chapter 41 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 30

The next day fell into our usual routine—good morning texts, me reviewing in the library while Milo worked, him showing up at 5PM so we could walk to class together. Class proceeded normally with the usual recitations and note-taking, but when it ended, instead of suggesting our usual coffee shop study session, I had a different idea.

“Want to go back to your apartment?” I asked as we gathered our things.

Milo looked at me with raised eyebrows. “My apartment? Bakit?”

“I just feel like it’s more comfortable there,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“My studio apartment? More comfortable?” he asked, confused.

I nodded quickly, but I could see him starting to question my reasoning. His expression was getting more skeptical by the second.

“It’s just… the coffee shops are so noisy kasi,” I said, scrambling for excuses. “And super cold din, like Arctic-level air conditioning. Plus ang daming tao, it’s hard to concentrate—”

“Saffron.”

“—and ’yong music is always too loud, and—”

“Saffron.”

“—people keep talking and—”

“What’s the real reason?”

I stopped mid-ramble, caught. The truth was, I loved the intimacy of his apartment. The way we could sit close together without worrying about our blockmates seeing us, the way we could take “study breaks” that involved kissing without fear of being caught. But saying that out loud felt embarrassing.

“Fine,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up. “I like the privacy. Okay? I like that it’s just us there.”

“Privacy for what exactly?” he asked, clearly enjoying watching me squirm.

“For… studying. Without distractions.”

“What kind of distractions?”

“Milo!”

“I’m just trying to understand why my cramped studio apartment is suddenly more appealing than a spacious coffee shop.”

“Because…” I trailed off, my face burning.

“Because?”

“Because I like being able to kiss you without worrying about people seeing us, okay?!”

Milo’s grin widened. “Ah. So you want to use my apartment as your personal makeout spot.”

“That’s not—I mean—we’ll study, too!”

“Mm-hmm. And when we take ‘study breaks’?”

“Milo!” I hit his chest as he started laughing, clearly enjoying how flustered I was getting.

“What? I’m just asking.”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being honest. You want to come to my apartment so you can distract me from actually studying.”

“I do not!”

“So if I said we could only study—no kissing, no touching, just pure academics—you’d still want to come over?”

I opened my mouth to say yes, then closed it again.

“That’s what I thought,” he said smugly.

“Fine! Yes, I want to be able to kiss you while we study. Sue me!”

“There we go. Honesty.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe. But at least now I know why you suddenly find my apartment so appealing.”

Inirapan ko siya. “So can we go or not?”

“We can go. But you have to admit that you’re planning to distract me.”

“I’m planning to motivate you.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

But despite his teasing, he agreed, and we ended up spending the evening at his apartment, actually studying (mostly) and enjoying the quiet intimacy of being in his space.

---

Friday came and went, as we were packing up after class, I made the same suggestion.

“Your apartment again?” I asked hopefully.

“Won’t we see each other tomorrow?” Milo asked. “May dinner tayo kasama ’yung kapatid mo?”

“Right…” I paused, then looked at him pleadingly. “But that’s different! Kasama natin si Sage.”

“So?”

I pouted, hoping he’d understand what I meant without me having to spell it out.

“So you just want to make out with me?” he asked with that same amused expression.

I felt my face burn. “Hindi! Well… not just that.”

Milo laughed and pulled me close, kissing the top of my head. “Come on. But we’re getting food first.”

We stopped at a drive-thru on the way to his apartment, and despite my attempts to pay, Milo insisted on covering it. I was starting to recognize this as a battle I wasn’t going to win, so I let it go.

Back at his apartment, we settled on the floor, our backs against the edge of his bed with his laptop propped on the small table, planning to watch a movie while we ate. Milo had found something that looked interesting—some action thriller that had gotten good reviews—and he seemed genuinely invested in the plot.

I, on the other hand, was more interested in the fact that we were cuddled under a blanket with complete privacy.

About twenty minutes into the movie, I started pressing soft kisses to the side of his neck.

“Saffron,” he said, his voice slightly strained but his eyes still on the screen.

“Mm?” I continued my trail of kisses, moving to the spot just below his ear that I’d discovered made him tense up in the best way.

“Maganda ’yong movie,” he said.

“Mas interesting ba yung movie kaysa sa akin?” I asked against his skin.

Milo laughed, finally giving up on the movie and turning to face me properly. “You’re terrible.”

“But more interesting than the movie?”

Instead of answering, he kissed me, and I immediately pressed closer to him, more aggressive than usual. The privacy of his apartment made me bolder, more willing to show him exactly how much I wanted him.

The kiss deepened, and I found myself practically climbing into his lap, my hands fisting in his shirt. I could feel his heart racing against my chest, could hear the slight change in his breathing that told me he was just as affected as I was.

When his hands moved to my waist, pulling me even closer, I made a soft sound against his lips that seemed to break something loose in both of us. The careful restraint we usually maintained in public places dissolved completely.

His hands were everywhere—tangling in my hair, tracing the line of my spine, pulling me impossibly closer. When I shifted in his lap, he groaned against my mouth, and the sound sent heat racing through my entire body.

My hands worked at the buttons of his shirt while his fingers found the hem of mine, and when his skin touched mine, I thought I might actually combust from the heat building between us.

It was only when his hand started to move under my shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin that made me arch against him, that I felt him hesitate. His touch was reverent, careful, like he was memorizing every inch of skin he encountered.

“Saffron,” he breathed against my neck, and I could hear the struggle in his voice.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered, my hands already working at the rest of his shirt buttons.

But even as I said it, I could feel him pulling back, his breathing ragged.

“Wait,” he said, catching my hands with his. “We need to—we should talk about this.”

I was still trying to catch my breath, my lips feeling swollen and my heart racing. The space between us felt cold after the heat we’d been generating.

“About what?”

“About… what happens next. About boundaries. About what we both want.”

The serious tone in his voice made my heart race for different reasons, and I could see him struggling to regain his composure even as his eyes stayed dark with want.

“What do you want?” I asked quietly.

“You,” he said immediately, then paused. “But I want to be smart about it.”

“Smart how?”

“I want to be careful,” he continued. “I’m not ready for… complications.”

“Like what kind of complications?”

“Like the kind that involve diapers and midnight feedings and completely changing the trajectory of both our lives.”

I nodded, understanding, though part of me was still tingling from his touch. “I want to be careful, too.”

“Good. Because we’re both in law school, we’re both working toward futures that matter to us, and we’re both too young to—”

“I get it,” I said, though I couldn’t help but smile at how practical he was being even when we’d both clearly been ready to throw caution to the wind minutes ago.

“Do you? Because I was about ten seconds away from not caring about any of that.”

The admission made my stomach flutter. “Really?”

“Really. Which is why we need to talk about this now, when we can still think clearly.”

“Okay. So… what are we talking about exactly?”

“Protection. Boundaries. Making sure we’re both on the same page about what we want and when we want it.”

I felt my cheeks heat up, but I appreciated his directness. “I want you, too. But you’re right about being careful.”

“So if—when—we decide we’re ready, we’ll be responsible about it.”

“Definitely.”

But then, because I was apparently incapable of leaving well enough alone, I asked, “But what if… hypothetically… just what if something happened anyway?”

Milo was quiet for a moment, studying my face.

“It won’t happen because we’ll be careful,” he said firmly. “We’ll use protection, we’ll be smart, we’ll make sure we’re both ready.”

I felt a stab of disappointment at how definitive he sounded, like the idea of any kind of future complications was completely unthinkable.

He must have seen something in my expression because his voice softened.

“But of course, if—if something did happen despite our precautions—I’d be with you. You know that, right?”

The reassurance made something warm bloom in my chest. “Really?”

“Really. We’d figure it out together. But it won’t come to that because we’re both smart enough to be responsible about this.”

“Right,” I agreed. “I’m definitely not ready to be a mom yet either.”

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.”

He kissed me again, softer this time but no less intense, and I felt some of the tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying dissolve. Whatever this was between us, we were figuring it out together.

“So,” I said when we broke apart, “does this mean we’re going to…?”

“When we’re both ready. When we’ve talked about it more. When we’re prepared.”

“How will we know when we’re ready?”

“I think we’ll know,” he said, pulling me closer again. “But for now…”

“For now?”

“For now, I think we should probably stick to this,” he said, kissing me again, and I melted into him, content with taking things slow even as my body was clearly ready for more.

---

I must have fallen asleep sometime after that, exhausted from the long day of classes and the emotional intensity of our conversation, not to mention the physical toll of constantly stopping myself from doing exactly what I wanted to do with him. It took so much energy to maintain that kind of self-control, and combined with the late nights of studying and the stress of finals approaching, I was completely drained.

The next thing I knew, Milo was gently shaking my shoulder.

“Saffron. Hey, wake up.”

I blinked groggily, trying to orient myself. I was still in his bed, still wearing my clothes from earlier, though they were now thoroughly wrinkled. The laptop was closed and the room was dark except for the light from his desk lamp.

“What time is it?” I mumbled.

“3AM. You need to go home.”

“Mm, five more minutes,” I said, burrowing deeper into his pillow. Everything smelled like him, and I was comfortable and warm and definitely not ready to face the drive home.

“No. Kailangan mo ng umuwi.”

Something in his tone made me open my eyes properly. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, looking serious.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. But you can’t sleep over.”

“Why not? It’s late, and I’m comfortable, and—”

“Saffron.” His voice was firm. “Your pouting won’t work here.”

I was indeed pouting, and the fact that he’d called me out on it made me pout even more.

“Come on,” he said, standing up. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I can walk myself,” I grumbled, but I got up anyway.

As we headed down to my car, I expected him to say goodbye at my car like usual. Instead, he opened the passenger door and got in.

“Sasama ka?” I asked, confused.

“Yeah.”

“Huh?”

“Baka makatulog ka habang nagmamaneho. Maggrab na lang ako pabalik.”

“Milo, I’m fine—”

But the look on his face told me this wasn’t up for discussion. There was something protective in his expression that reminded me why I’d fallen for him in the first place.

So I drove home with him in the passenger seat, both of us quiet but comfortable, and when I pulled into our driveway, he kissed my forehead and booked a Grab to take him back to his apartment.

---

Saturday night found me stressing over the restaurant Milo had chosen for dinner with Sage. When he’d texted me the name, I’d looked it up online and nearly choked at the menu prices.

This was not the casual, affordable place I’d had in mind.

I was pacing outside the restaurant when Sage arrived, and immediately pulled him aside.

“Listen,” I said, grabbing him by his collar before we went into the restaurant. “Don’t order anything expensive, okay? Just drinks and maybe the cheapest thing on the menu.”

Sage looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Ha?”

“Just trust me. Please.”

“Okay… Sana sinabi mo kanina para kumain na muna ako sa bahay.”

“Look, I’ll feed you later, okay? Just—” I paused. I took a deep breath, realizing I needed to be honest with him. “I really like him, okay? Like, really really like him. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

“Okay…”

“And I want this to work out. I want you to like him, and I want him to feel comfortable with our family, and I’m just… I’m stressed about it.”

Sage’s expression softened. “Saff—”

“I know you think I’m being dramatic, pero this matters to me. He matters to me. And I need you to give him a chance.”

“Why do you think I’m even here?” he asked, his usual sarcastic tone once again present. “But why are you worried about the menu?”

I hesitated, not sure how to explain without getting into details about Milo’s financial situation that weren’t mine to share.

“Just… trust me on this one, okay? Can you please just order something simple?”

Sage studied my face for a moment, and I could see him putting pieces together.

“Fine,” he said.

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

The relief that washed over me was immediate. “Really?”

“Really. Though I reserve the right to threaten him if he hurts you.”

“That’s fair.”

“Good. Now stop stressing. Lumalabas wrinkles mo,” he said and I glared at him. Wala pa akong wrinkles kaya!

When Milo arrived, looking oddly confident and super gwapo in what I recognized as his nicest clothes, I tried to project calm despite my anxiety about everything going smoothly.

“This looks like a nice place,” I said as we were seated, trying not to wince at the menu prices.

“Ayaw mo ba dito?” Milo asked, noticing my expression.

“No, it’s perfect! Really nice choice.”

The dinner proceeded with Sage’s typical protective brother routine, asking questions about law school and his plans for the future. Mabuti naman nakinig siya when I briefed him last night about what he can and cannot ask.

About twenty minutes into dinner, Sage called my name.

“Saff, I left something in my car. Can you grab it for me?” He tossed me his keys. “It’s in the glove compartment.”

I didn’t want to leave them alone, but Milo squeezed my hand under the table, silently telling me it was okay.

I spent several minutes searching through Sage’s glove compartment, looking for whatever mysterious item he’d supposedly left there. I couldn’t find anything that seemed important, which made me suspect this was just an excuse to talk to Milo privately.

When I returned to the restaurant, both of them looked up at me with serious expressions. They’d clearly been having some kind of intense conversation.

“Did you find it?” Sage asked.

“Find what exactly? There’s nothing in your glove compartment except registration papers and mints.”

“Oh, right. I think I left it at home.”

I was about to call him out on his obvious lie when I reached for my purse to check my phone. The bag was sitting precariously on my lap, and when I shifted to grab it, it tipped over completely.

Everything spilled out onto the restaurant floor with a sound that seemed to echo through the entire dining room.

My textbooks, highlighters, various school supplies, lip gloss, keys, and—to my absolute, complete, earth-shattering horror—a small box of condoms tumbled out and scattered across the floor, the box landing with a decisive thud right next to Sage’s feet.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I looked up to see Milo staring at the box with an expression of pure mortification, his face flushing red. Sage looked like he’d been physically struck, his mouth hanging open. Other diners at nearby tables had stopped eating to stare at the spectacle we’d created.

A little old lady at the table next to us actually gasped audibly.

This was, without question, the most humiliating moment of my entire existence.

“Oh, my god,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“Well,” Milo said after what felt like an eternity, his voice strangled.

“I can’t—” I started, but no other words would come out.

“Ma’am?” A server appeared beside our table, looking concerned. “Is everything alright? Do you need assistance?”

“NO,” I said, much too loudly, causing even more heads to turn in our direction.

I scrambled to shove everything back into my bag as quickly as humanly possible, my hands shaking so badly I could barely function. The condom box seemed to glow like a neon sign as I reached for it last, and I swear every person in the restaurant was staring directly at it.

“I have to go,” I announced, standing up so fast I nearly knocked over my chair. “I have to leave. Now. Immediately.”

Without another word, I bolted for the exit, leaving Sage and Milo to deal with the aftermath of my spectacular public humiliation.

I made it to the parking lot before Milo caught up with me, leaving Sage to probably apologize to half the restaurant.

“Saffron, wait.”

“I can literally never show my face in public again,” I said, leaning against a car and covering my face with my hands. “I’m going to have to transfer schools. Maybe move to another country. Change my name. Get plastic surgery.”

“It’s not that bad—”

“Not that bad? Milo, condoms just fell out of my purse in front of my brother, half the restaurant, and probably someone’s lola who’s now going to light candles for my soul. That server looked like she was about to offer me a prayer card.”

Milo was making a suspicious sound, and when I looked at him through my fingers, I could see his shoulders shaking.

“Are you laughing?”

“No,” he said, clearly lying.

“It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“How is this funny?!”

“Because you look like you want to dig a hole and live in it forever, and honestly, it’s kind of adorable how mortified you are.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. I hate you and I hate my purse and I hate condoms and I hate restaurants and—”

“Saffron.”

“—and I hate gravity for making things fall out of bags and I hate—”

“Saffron.”

“What?”

“Breathe.”

Before I could argue, Sage appeared in the parking lot, holding the infamous box and looking equal parts amused and traumatized.

“You forgot this,” he said, holding it out like it might explode.

I wanted to disappear into the asphalt.

“Keep it,” I mumbled.

“I definitely don’t want to keep it.”

“Then throw it away! Burn it! Bury it!”

“Saff,” Sage said, his voice gentler now, “it’s… fine. It’s weird, yes. Mortifying? Yes. But… glad to know, I guess.” Pwede bang kunin na ako ng lupa?! “I just didn’t need and want the visual confirmation in front of half of Manila.”

“The old lady at table six is probably still praying for her,” Milo said.

“She asked if you needed spiritual guidance,” Sage said.

“Oh, god,” I uttered.

“I told her you were just nervous about your first time dining at a fancy restaurant.”

“SAGE!”

“What? Mas gusto mo ba na sinabi ko sa kanya na nahulog mo ’yung condoms mo?”

Milo completely lost it at that point, doubling over with laughter.

“It’s not funny!” I said again, but even I was starting to see the absurd humor in the situation.

“You’re right,” Milo said, trying to compose himself. “It’s hilarious.”

“In ten years, this is going to be a great story,” Sage added.

“In ten years, I’ll still be in therapy.”

“Come on,” Sage said, “let’s call it a night before anything else traumatic happens—baka kung ano pa mahulog d’yan sa bag mo.”

My eyes widened and my face reddened even more. “Sage!”

---

As we said our goodbyes—Sage surprisingly gracious about the whole thing, all things considered—I realized that despite the mortifying ending, the evening had actually served its purpose. Sage and Milo had survived each other, and maybe, eventually, they might even like each other.

Oh, my god. I couldn’t believe they’d bonded over my humiliation!

Though I was definitely investing in a purse with a zipper and multiple compartments after this.

“So,” Milo said nung umalis na si Sage—well, pinaalis ko na siya. We both agreed we needed space after… what happened. “That went well.”

“Define ‘well.’”

“I mean, all things considered, at least he knows we’re being safe.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But I still think you’re worth the embarrassment.”

Despite everything, I felt myself smiling. “Really?”

“Really. Though next time, maybe double-check your bag before dinner.”

“Ugh! I know! I will burn this bag!”

Milo laughed and pulled me close and hugged me.

“Milo?” I called as my face was burrowed against his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for not running away screaming when my condoms fell out of my purse.”

“Thank you for carrying condoms in your purse.”

“Milo!”

“What? I’m just saying, I appreciate the forward thinking.”

As we walked towards the parking, still laughing at his own joke, I realized that whatever challenges our relationship might face, at least we could laugh about them together.

Even when those challenges involved mortifying public displays of my safe sex practices.

  This story is already at Chapter 42 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 31

The notification sound from my phone made me smile before I even looked at the screen. Finally, natapos na rin ’yung finals, and somehow, despite all the academic pressure and relationship drama, both Milo and I had managed to excel in our first semester of law school.

Honestly? What a feat! Nung first week, parang gusto ko na lang siyang itulak sa building tuwing makikita ko siya.

“Congratulations, future lawyer,” I said, waving my phone at him as he emerged from his tiny kitchen with two cups of coffee. “I just saw my Consti grade.”

“How’d you do?” he asked, settling beside me on his bed with that small smile that always made my stomach flutter.

“92. Duh,” I said, trying to sound casual about it but failing completely. “You?”

“93.”

I groaned dramatically and flopped back against his pillows. “Of course you got higher. Of course.”

“You did better in Criminal Law,” he pointed out, handing me my coffee and lying down beside me. “And sa StatCon.”

“Mas mataas kaya ’yung units ng Consti,” I countered, curling into his side automatically. “And you’re probably going to get Dean’s List.”

“So will you.”

We lay there in comfortable silence, both of us processing the fact that we’d successfully completed our first semester. It felt surreal, if I was being honest. Five months ago, I’d been terrified that law school would destroy me. Now, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

And I couldn’t imagine doing it without him.

“So,” I said, trailing my fingers across his chest absently, “One month of freedom. What should we do?”

“Sleep,” he said immediately, making me laugh.

“Sleep? That’s your grand plan for our semester break?”

“Sleep. Study for next semester. Work.”

I tilted my head to look at him. “Work? Akala ko may break ka rin from work?”

“I do, pero two weeks lang. I’ll be working the last two weeks of break.”

Right. Sometimes I forgot that while I had the luxury of a completely free semester break, Milo still needed to work to support himself. The reminder always made me feel slightly guilty about my privilege, but I’d learned not to voice that feeling. Milo didn’t like it when I felt bad about things which weren’t in my control.

“Well, then,” I said, pressing a kiss to his neck, “we’ll have to make the most of the next two weeks.”

“And what did you have in mind?”

“This,” I said, gesturing to our current position—him lying on his back, me curled against his side, both of us in comfortable clothes with nowhere we needed to be. “Exactly this. For as long as possible.”

The truth was, we’d been practically living together for the past month—or at least in my imagination. I’d started staying at his apartment more and more frequently, until it became the default rather than the exception. My clothes were mixed in with his in the small closet, my toiletries had found permanent spots in his bathroom, and we’d developed routines that felt natural and domestic.

I loved waking up next to him—although I wish I’d wake up next to him tuwing umaga, but that’s impossible. Sage will kill me and drag my corpse back home. But I loved the way he made coffee—stronger than I usually preferred, but somehow perfect when he handed it to me. I loved studying at his small table while he cooked our food, the way we could work in comfortable silence, how he’d massage my shoulders when I’d been hunched over textbooks too long.

“Sage is getting suspicious,” I said, remembering the interrogation I’d endured earlier this week.

“Tungkol saan?”

“About why I’m never home anymore.”

Milo was quiet for a moment. “Ano’ng sinabi mo?”

“That I’m studying with classmates. Which isn’t technically a lie.”

“Technically.”

“I might have also bribed him to cover for me with our parents.”

“Bribed him how?”

“Hmm… wala pa for now. Wala siyang gusto, so I bribed him with a future favor.” I paused, then grinned. “Plus I had to listen to a whole lecture from him and Ate Kallie about ‘priorities’ and ‘being careful.’”

“Ate Kallie?”

“She’s like my sister. She was there when Sage was being his usual overprotective self. Annoyingly, she was taking his side.” I shifted to look at him properly. “Ate Kallie was like, ‘Saff, just make sure he’s worth all this sneaking around,’ and Sage was like, ’She doesn’t even know this guy properly.”

I felt Milo’s body tense slightly beneath me, but his voice remained neutral. Na-guilty agad ako. Fuck. Why did I even have to say that? I knew that Milo’s trying his best to let me in. Compared to when I first met him, marami na akong alam sa kanya ngayon, so it was unfair of me to tell him about Sage’s little comment.

“Is that something you worry about?”

“Not with you,” I said immediately. “I mean, we’re still getting to know each other—boundaries and all.”

“Right.”

“But it’s sweet that Sage worries. Overprotective, but sweet. Ate Kallie finally told him to stop being a hater and that I’m old enough to make my own choices.” I laughed. “Though she did threaten to hunt you down if you hurt me, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Noted.”

We fell into another comfortable silence, and I let my mind wander to our future plans. “You know what I love about being with you?” bigla kong tanong.

“What?”

“We both actually care about being good lawyers. Like, really good lawyers. Not just successful, but also morally good lawyers.”

Milo’s arm tightened around me slightly.

“I mean, my parents always taught me that being a lawyer isn’t just about winning cases or making money. It’s about justice, about doing what’s right even when it’s hard.” I traced absent patterns on his chest as I spoke. “My dad always says that every case he’s ever been proud of was because he stood up for someone who needed it, someone who couldn’t fight for themselves.”

I felt Milo go completely still beneath me.

“He sounds like a good man,” he said carefully.

“He is. Both my parents are. That’s why I want to join BGY Law eventually—I want to be part of that legacy, you know? I want to be the kind of lawyer who actually makes a difference.”

“And what kind of difference do you want to make?”

“Hmm… hindi pa ako sigurado. But I want to do something that will make a difference—whatever that may be.” I lifted my head to look at him. “What about you? What kind of lawyer do you want to be?”

Milo was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

“I want to help people who’ve been wronged by the system,” he said finally. “People who’ve had their lives destroyed by lawyers who care more about money than justice.”

Something in his tone made me study his face more carefully. “That’s really specific.”

“It’s important work.”

“It is. And you’d be amazing at it.” I pressed a kiss to his chest. “See? This is what I mean. We both want to be lawyers for the right reasons. We both believe in justice, in doing what’s right. That’s not as common as you’d think.”

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s not.”

“I mean, there are lawyers out there who would sell their souls for money, who would destroy innocent people if the price was right. But that’s not us. That’s not who we want to be.”

I felt him take a sharp breath beneath me.

“Saffron—”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just…” I felt him holding me tighter. “You’re right. That’s not who we want to be.”

There was something strange in his voice, but before I could analyze it, he was rolling us over, pressing me into the mattress and kissing me with an intensity that made my thoughts scatter completely.

This kiss was different from the sweet, lazy ones we’d been exchanging all day. This one was hungry, desperate, like he was trying to pour something into it that he couldn’t say out loud.

I responded immediately, my hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer. When his lips moved from my mouth to my neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my pulse point, I had to bite my lip to keep from making embarrassing sounds.

“Milo,” I breathed, and felt him shiver against me.

His hands were everywhere—tangling in my hair, tracing the line of my spine, slipping under the edge of my shirt to find warm skin. When his thumb brushed across my ribs, I arched against him, and he made that low sound in the back of his throat that always made me lose my mind.

I pulled at his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel more of him, and he helped me tug it over his head before capturing my lips again. The feeling of his skin against mine, warm and smooth and perfect, made me dizzy with want.

“I love touching you,” I whispered against his lips, my hands exploring the planes of his chest, the definition of his shoulders.

“Yeah?” His voice was rough, strained.

“Yeah. I love the way you feel. I love the way you respond to me.”

“Saffron,” he groaned, and the sound sent heat racing through my entire body.

His lips found that sensitive spot just below my ear, and when he sucked gently, I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped. The sound seemed to break something loose in both of us, because suddenly we were moving with more urgency, hands and mouths desperate to touch and taste and claim.

When he lifted my shirt over my head, his eyes went dark as they swept over my skin. The way he looked at me—like I was something beautiful and precious and his—made me feel more confident than I’d ever felt in my life.

“Come here,” I whispered, pulling him back down to me.

This time, when our skin met, the sensation was overwhelming. Every point of contact sent electricity through my body, and when he pressed kisses along my collarbone, I threaded my fingers through his hair and held him close.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, exploring each other with careful hands and eager mouths, learning what made the other gasp and sigh and arch with pleasure. It was sweet and hot and perfect, and when we finally collapsed together, breathing hard and thoroughly disheveled, I felt more connected to him than I’d ever felt to another person.

“Fuck,” he breathed against my neck, and I laughed softly.

“Good fuck or bad fuck?”

“Definitely good fuck.”

I traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling completely content and utterly satisfied. “I love this,” I said quietly.

“What specifically?”

“All of it. Being here with you. Being able to touch you whenever I want. Not having to worry about being interrupted or caught.”

“The privacy is nice,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Very nice. But I think kailangan ko ng umuwi mamaya. We’ll be having our monthly gathering,” I said. How I wish dadating ’yung time na pwede ko isama si Milo sa family gatherings namin. I know they will love him! “Also pala, Sage is starting to ask pointed questions.”

“What kind of pointed questions?”

“The kind where he asks if I’m ‘being safe’ and if I ‘need anything from the pharmacy.’”

Milo laughed. “Your brother is going to kill me.”

“My brother likes you. He’s just being protective. Besides, I told him you’re a perfect gentleman.”

“And he believed that?”

I snorted. As if! After nung condom fiasco? Every time he’d look at me, there’s that… horrified look on his face—like he was replaying that horrid memory! If pwede ko lang i-erase ’yon from his memory! From all our memories!

“Absolutely not—but I’m sure he appreciates the effort.”

We lay in comfortable silence for a while longer, watching the light from outside grow dimmer as evening approached. Eventually, my stomach growled loudly enough that we both laughed.

“I should feed you,” Milo said, starting to sit up.

“I can cook,” I protested, though I made no move to get up either.

“You can barely make toast without burning it.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“Is it?”

“It’s a slight exaggeration.”

“I’ll cook. You can sit there and look pretty.”

“I don’t just look pretty. I provide excellent moral support and food critics commentary.”

“Right. Essential services.”

As he got up and started pulling on clothes, I watched him with complete contentment. This—the easy banter, the domestic comfort, the way we moved around each other in the small space—felt so natural… like this is where I am meant to be.

“You know,” I said, pulling his shirt over my head as he headed toward the kitchen area, “I keep thinking about what we talked about earlier. About being ethical lawyers.”

Milo didn’t say anything, but I knew that he was listening.

“I just… I love that we’re on the same page about that. I love that you care about justice as much as I do.” I curled up in his bed, watching him move around the small kitchen. “I think that’s really important in a partner. Having the same values, you know?”

Milo paused in his food preparation, his back to me. “What values matter most to you?”

“Honesty. Integrity. Standing up for what’s right even when it’s difficult.” I thought about it for a moment. “My parents always taught me that your reputation is everything in law. That once people can’t trust you, you’ve lost the most important thing you have.”

“And you believe that?”

“Absolutely. I mean, look at my dad. He’s a judge now because people respect him, because they know he’s fair and honest. He’s never compromised his principles for money or politics or anything else.”

I saw Milo’s shoulders tense slightly, but he just nodded.

“That’s the kind of legacy I want to have,” I continued. “I want people to know that when they hire a Borromeo, they’re getting someone who will fight for them with integrity. That’s why even when I get married, I’m keeping my last name. Can’t lose the ‘B’ in BGY Law, right?”

I meant it as a joke, but I felt the energy in the room shift somehow. When Milo turned around, his expression was carefully neutral.

“You’ve really got your whole life planned out,” he said.

“Is that bad?”

I chewed on my lips as I awaited his reply. Shit. Why did I have to mention getting married? It’s too early! Besides, my mind wasn’t there—at least not yet! I was just enjoying what we have. Bakit ko ba kailangang sabihin ’yon?

“No. It’s just… organized. Very you.”

There was something in his tone that I couldn’t quite identify, but before I could analyze it further, he was turning back to the stove.

“Milo?” I said softly.

“Hmm?”

“Everything okay? You seem… I don’t know. Distant, suddenly.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and I watched his shoulders rise and fall with what looked like a deep breath.

“Just thinking,” he said finally.

“About what?”

“About what you said. About integrity. About doing what’s right.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing. Just… sometimes it’s complicated, isn’t it? What’s right.”

I frowned, sensing something deeper in his words. “What do you mean?”

“I mean sometimes good people do bad things. Sometimes people you trust turn out to be… different than you thought.”

“Are you talking about someone specific?”

Milo turned around then, and for just a moment, I saw something raw and painful in his expression before he shuttered it again.

“No one specific,” he said. “Just… life, I guess.”

I wanted to push, to ask what was really bothering him, but something in his demeanor told me to let it go. Instead, I got up and padded over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind.

“Hey,” I said softly, pressing my cheek against his back. “Whatever you’re thinking about, we don’t have to figure it out tonight, okay?”

I felt him relax slightly in my arms.

“Okay.”

“Besides,” I continued, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade, “I have complete faith in both of us. We’re going to be good lawyers. Good people. We’re going to make a difference.”

“You sound so sure.”

“I am sure. Because I know you, Milo. I know your heart. And I know you’d never do anything to hurt innocent people.”

He remained silent.

“What are we having for dinner?” I asked, changing the subject to something lighter.

“Adobo. At saka kung anumang gulay ang meron pa sa ref.”

“Hmm, okay. Excited na ako,” I said, hugging him tighter because I just didn’t and couldn’t let go.

“Adobo lang naman ’to.”

I pouted. “But I love your adobo.”

“I know you do.”

When he brought me a plate a few minutes later, I curled into his side and felt that same sense of rightness settle over me again.

“Milo?” I said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really happy. Like, really, really happy.”

He turned to look at me, and despite whatever had been bothering him earlier, his expression was soft.

“Ako rin,” he said quietly.

“Good. Because I plan to keep you around for a very long time.”

“How long?”

“Forever, probably. Hope you’re okay with that.”

For a moment, something flickered across his face—an expression I couldn’t quite read. But then he was smiling, and I convinced myself I’d imagined it.

“I’m okay with that,” he said.

As we ate together in the comfortable intimacy of his small apartment, I felt that familiar sense of everything being exactly as it should be. We were both excellent students, we shared the same values, we care about each other deeply, and we were building something beautiful together.

In the golden light of his apartment, surrounded by the warmth of his presence and the promise of a future together, I was completely and utterly content.

I was exactly where I belonged.

And so was he.

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Chapter 32

The first day of second semester felt different the moment I spotted Milo waiting for me outside the library. We’d spent most of our semester break together, but seeing him in the academic setting again made everything feel more real somehow.

Ewan.

I love staying in his apartment but that place felt like a bubble… and being with him outside that bubble reminded me that we’re really together.

Na hindi ko lang delulu lahat ng ito.

“Ready for second sem?” I asked as I approached him, adjusting my bag strap.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, falling into step beside me as we headed towards the stairs.

We walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both of us processing the fact that we were halfway through our first year of law school. Law school felt more familiar now—no more of that overwhelming newness that had characterized our first semester. We knew which professors were strict, which spots in the library had the best lighting, where to get the strongest coffee.

But as we approached his usual smoking spot near the back of the building, I felt a sudden surge of… determination.

“Wait,” I said, stopping abruptly.

Milo turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “Bakit?”

“Nothing. I just…” I chewed on my lip, suddenly feeling nervous about what I was about to say. “I want you to ask me something.”

“Ask you what?”

“You know what.”

He looked genuinely confused. “I really don’t.”

“Milo,” I said, crossing my arms and giving him my most serious expression. “We’ve been… whatever this is… for months now. We spend practically every day together, we’re completely comfortable with each other, everyone already assumes we’re together…”

Understanding dawned on his face, followed immediately by that small smile that always made my stomach flutter.

“Ah.”

“Yeah, ah. So ask me.”

“Ask you what, specifically?”

“You know exactly what I want you to ask me, Maximiliano Jose Delgado.”

He laughed at my use of his full name, the sound warm and genuine. “You want me to ask you because…?”

“Because!” I said, probably too loudly.

“Because what?”

“Basta. Ask me na.”

Milo took a step closer to me, and suddenly the air between us felt charged with something significant. This wasn’t just about putting a label on what we already had—this was about officially choosing each other, about making a promise.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer until there was barely any space between us.

“Saffron Rose Borromeo,” he said softly, his voice carrying that serious tone he used when something really mattered to him.

“Yes?”

“Will you please be my girlfriend?” he asked.

The simple question sent warmth flooding through my entire chest. We both knew what my answer would be—had known for weeks, really—but hearing him actually ask made it feel official in a way that mattered.

“Yes,” I said, probably grinning like an idiot. “Duh.”

Instead of responding with words, he leaned down and kissed me, soft and sweet and perfect. When we broke apart, both of us were smiling.

“There,” I said, straightening his collar unnecessarily. “Was that so hard?”

“Terrible. The worst experience of my life.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m traumatized. I might never recover.”

I hit his chest lightly, which just made him laugh again.

“Come on, boyfriend,” I said, enjoying the way the word felt on my tongue. “Let’s go to class. Ayokong ma-late sa first class natin this sem.”

“Girlfriend,” he replied, like he was testing how it sounded.

“Better get used to it.”

As we walked toward our classroom, now that it was official, I felt that familiar sense of everything clicking into place. We were official now. Milo Delgado is my boyfriend, and I am his girlfriend, and everyone would know it.

---

“Good evening, class,” Sir said as he shuffled his classcards for Legal Ethics.

I was seated next to Milo, as had become our natural arrangement in all our classes. The difference was that now, when our classmates looked at us, they’d see an official couple rather than whatever undefined thing we’d been before.

I hoped! Or do I need to make an official announcement pa sa friend group namin? Hmm. Mamaya ko na nga isipin.

But I think Rica had immediately noticed when we walked in together, and I’d caught her nudging Sheena and grinning. The news would probably be all over our block by tomorrow, but I didn’t mind. I was proud to be Milo’s girlfriend.

“Tonight we’ll be discussing the nature of the practice of law,” Sir continued, his voice carrying that authoritative tone that made everyone sit up straighter. “Specifically, whether it’s a right, a privilege, or merely a business venture.”

Sir pulled a classcard from his stack. “ Bongalonta versus Castillo .“

The room held its collective breath as he read the card.

“Delgado.”

Milo’s shoulders tensed. Kahit ako naman siguro. Bakit ba lagi na lang siyang unang natatawag? What’s wrong with his classcard?

But I watched him with the familiar mixture of pride and slight competitiveness that had become my default state during his recitations. But now there was something else too—the specific pride of watching my boyfriend excel.

“In the case of Bongalonta versus Castillo ,” Milo began, his voice clear and confident. “The Supreme Court reiterated that the practice of law is not a right but a privilege granted by the state. The practice of law is not a property right that can be claimed by virtue of citizenship or constitutional guarantee,” Milo continued. “It’s a privilege that must be earned through competency and moral fitness, and can be revoked when the lawyer proves unworthy of the trust and confidence reposed in him by the public.”

Sir nodded. “And what was the specific issue in this case?”

“The respondents were engaged in the unauthorized practice of law, Sir. They were providing legal services without proper authorization, treating the practice of law as a mere business venture rather than a profession governed by strict ethical standards.”

“Correct. Now, why do you think the Court emphasizes that law practice is not a business?”

Milo paused for just a moment, and I could see something flicker across his expression—something deeper than academic analysis.

“Because the moment lawyers start treating law as a business, they lose sight of their duty to justice, Sir,” he said, his voice carrying an edge that only I seemed to notice. “When profit becomes the primary motivation, lawyers may compromise their ethical obligations. They might take cases not because they believe in the cause, but because they’re profitable. They might use questionable methods to win, regardless of the harm caused to innocent parties.”

I felt my breath hitch. There was something personal in the way he was discussing this, something that went beyond textbook understanding.

“And what safeguards does the legal profession have against such abuses?”

“The Integrated Bar, the Code of Professional Responsibility, and the disciplinary mechanisms of the Supreme Court, Sir. But ultimately, it depends on the individual lawyer’s commitment to ethical practice.”

“That will do.”

As Milo sat down, I caught his eye and saw that same shadow of something I couldn’t identify. But before I could analyze it further, Sir was calling the next student.

---

After class, as we walked toward the parking area, I found myself thinking about Milo’s recitation.

“You sounded really passionate about that case,” I said as we reached my car.

“Bakit?”

“Nothing… It just sounded like may personal experience ka or something.”

Milo was quiet for a moment as I started the engine. “I just think it’s important. The distinction between law as service versus law as business.”

“Totally agree. My dad always says that the moment you start thinking of clients as income sources instead of people who need help, you’ve lost the essence of what it means to be a lawyer.”

Milo didn’t say anything, but he just nodded.

“Want to grab food first?” I asked, instead.

“Okay.”

But as we drove, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there had been something significant in his response to that case. Something that felt more personal than academic.

---

The next few weeks fell into comfortable routines. Being official didn’t change much about our day-to-day interactions—we’d already been acting like a couple for months—but there was something satisfying about the labels. I loved being able to introduce him as my boyfriend when we met new people. I loved the way he’d smile when he called me his girlfriend.

Our academic schedule had adjusted to the new semester subjects: Obligations and Contracts, Criminal Law II, Constitutional Law II, and Basic Legal Ethics. All night classes, as always, which meant I maintained my routine of library study from 7AM to 5PM while Milo worked during the day.

“I still can’t believe you wake up at 6AM every day,” Rica said one afternoon as she found me in my usual library corner, surrounded by Constitutional Law textbooks. Again.

“Discipline, Rica. It’s called discipline.”

“It’s called insanity.”

“Says the girl who pulled an all-nighter for Criminal Law last week.”

“That was different. That was desperate cramming. You do this voluntarily.”

I laughed, but the truth was that I enjoyed my morning study routine. The library was quiet, I could focus completely, and by the time Milo arrived at 5PM, I felt accomplished and ready to spend time with him without academic guilt.

“Speaking of Milo,” Rica continued, settling into the chair across from me, “you two are disgustingly happy. It’s actually kind of cute.”

“Disgustingly happy?”

“You practically glow when you’re around each other. Watching you two makes me want to throw up, but in a good way.”

I felt my cheeks warm. “We’re just… really compatible.”

“Compatible. Right. Is that what we’re calling it?” she said with a small grin on her face.

“Rica!”

“What? I’m just saying, you two have serious chemistry. Everyone can see it.”

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a text from Milo.

‘On my way. See you soon.’

I smiled automatically, which made Rica roll her eyes.

“See? It’s disgusting.”

---

“Ready?” Milo asked when he found me in the library at exactly 5PM, like always.

“Ready,” I said, packing up my highlighters and notes.

As we walked toward our classroom, I found myself appreciating how natural everything felt between us. No more wondering about intentions or mixed signals. We were together, officially and completely, and it felt exactly right.

“How was work?” I asked as we climbed the stairs.

“Fine. Busy.”

“What exactly do you do again?” I asked, realizing that despite being together for months, I still didn’t have clear details about his job.

“Paralegal works. Filing, organizing documents, some research.”

“Boring.”

“Not really,” he said.

“I just wish ’di ka na nila ginugulo kapag weekend.”

Natawa si Milo. “That happened once. Also kasi may emergency sa work.”

“Kahit na! Weekends na nga lang ’yung pwede na kasama kita the whole day.”

“Greedy.”

I scrunched my nose. “Hmp.”

Milo just laughed hanggang sa makarating kami sa classroom namin.

---

Friday evening found us in his apartment, sprawled across his bed with textbooks scattered around us. We’d been reviewing Obligations and Contracts for the past two hours, and my brain felt like it was about to explode from all the provisions we’d been analyzing—na connected daw lahat sabi ng prof namin. I was so confused! Super daming terms!

“I still can’t believe we’re halfway through first year na,” I said, closing my book with a satisfied thud.

“Time flies,” Milo agreed, not looking up from notes.

“Do you think we’ll still be blockmates next year?” I asked, the question that had been nagging at me for weeks finally spilling out.

This time he did look up, one eyebrow raised. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know. What if they reshuffle? What if they decide to mix up the sections?”

“Unless you fail your grades and get kicked out of Section S, we’ll be fine,” he said with that small smile that always made my stomach flutter.

“As if I’d fail,” I scoffed. “You’re more likely to fail than me.”

“Right. The girl who needed my help with cases last week.”

“I didn’t need your help. I wanted your perspective.”

“Sure.”

I grabbed a pillow and hit him with it, which led to him grabbing me around the waist and pulling me down on top of him, both of us laughing.

“Seriously though,” I said, settling against his chest, “I don’t want to be separated. Academic-wise, I mean. We work well together.”

“We do,” he agreed, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.

“Plus, kung hindi tayo magka-block, how will I make sure you’re not flirting with other girls?”

“Other girls? From your imagination?”

“Don’t act innocent. I see how some of our schoolmates looks at you sometimes.”

“Again, girls from your imagination.”

“They’re not from my imagination!”

Milo laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest beneath my ear. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m protective of what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?”

“You,” I said simply, lifting my head to look at him. “You’re mine.”

The expression that crossed his face was soft and wondering, like he still couldn’t quite believe I was real.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m yours.”

Instead of responding with words, I leaned down and kissed him, slow and sweet. But like always happened when we kissed, things quickly escalated. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, and I shifted until I was straddling his waist.

“Saffron,” he breathed against my lips, his voice already rough with want.

“Mm?”

“We’re supposed to be studying.”

“We studied,” I said, pressing kisses along his jawline. “For two hours. That’s enough.”

“May quiz tayo bukas.”

“We’ll ace it. We always do.”

His protests stopped when I found that sensitive spot just below his ear and sucked gently. The sound he made—low and desperate—sent heat racing through my entire body.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands gripping my waist.

“See? I’m much more interesting than jurisprudence,” I murmured against his neck.

“Way more interesting,” he agreed, rolling us over so I was beneath him.

This time, when he kissed me, there was nothing gentle about it. It was hungry and desperate, like we hadn’t seen each other in weeks instead of hours. I responded immediately, my hands working on shirt while his mouth moved from my lips to my neck.

We’d become experts at each other’s bodies over the past few months. He knew exactly where to touch me to make me arch against him, and I knew exactly how to make him lose control completely. Our physical relationship had developed into something intense and passionate, yet still tender.

When his shirt was finally gone and his hands were working at mine, I felt that familiar rush of want and love and complete rightness that always came when we were like this.

---

Saturday afternoon, we decided to take a break from studying and go for a drive. I’d been wanting to explore more of the city, and Milo seemed to know all the best hidden spots.

We ended up at a small park overlooking the bay, sitting on a bench with coffee and pandesal from a nearby bakery.

“This is nice,” I said, leaning against his shoulder. “Peaceful.”

“Better than the library.”

“Everything’s better than the library at this point. I think I’ve memorized every case sa syllabus.”

“That’s the point.”

“I know, but still. Sometimes I wonder if we’re missing out on life by being in law school.”

“You mean like going to parties?”

“Not really parties per se, but you know? I feel like my friends are all… doing life. And I’m stuck in law school. Like my life’s on pause until maging lawyer ako.”

Milo was quiet for a moment. “Do you regret it? Going to law school?”

“No,” I said immediately. “Not at all. I just wonder sometimes.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t wonder?”

“I don’t regret it. This is exactly what I want to be doing.”

There was something definitive in his tone, like being a lawyer wasn’t just a career choice for him—it felt like it was all or nothing for him.

“What made you so sure? About law, I mean.”

He was quiet for so long that I thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“Just… seeing what happens when people don’t have good legal representation,” he said finally. “Seeing how the system can fail people who need it most.”

“That’s really specific. Did something happen to someone you know?”

Another long pause. “Something like that.”

I wanted to push, to ask more questions, but something in his demeanor told me he wasn’t ready to share more details.

“Do you have other family?” I asked instead, keeping my tone gentle and casual. “Like, aside from your parents?”

“Why?”

“Just curious. I know you said your parents are gone, but I wondered if you have lolo or lola or tita and tito or cousins. People you’re close to.”

“I have relatives,” he said carefully. “But I don’t really consider them family.”

“What do you mean?”

“Family isn’t just about blood. It’s about choice. About the people who actually show up for you when you need them.”

There was something bitter in his voice, like his extended family had disappointed him somehow.

“That makes sense,” I said softly. “My family’s close, but I know not everyone’s that lucky.”

“No. Not everyone is.”

We sat in comfortable silence after that, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of orange and pink. I could feel that there were things Milo wasn’t telling me, secrets he was carrying, but I also sensed that pushing wouldn’t help. He’d share when he was ready.

What mattered was that he was here with me now, and that whatever shadows he was carrying, he didn’t have to carry them alone anymore.

---

Sunday at home was the usual chaos of the Borromeo family. Sage just finished livestreaming, Mom was telling us about some latest Court decision, Dad was grading papers, and Ate Lily was texting on her phone or whatever.

“Kamusta ang school?” Dad asked as I helped myself to more rice.

“Good. Challenging, but good.”

“And your classmates? Getting along with everyone?”

I felt my cheeks warm slightly. “Yeah, everyone’s nice.”

“Anyone special?” Dad asked with that casual tone that parents use when they’re fishing for information.

“Dad,” I said, trying to sound exasperated rather than flustered.

“What? Nagtatanong lang naman ako. Bawal na ba?”

I glared at Sage, but he just rolled his eyes at me. May sinabi ba siya?

Mom looked up, but she didn’t say anything.

“So, may boyfriend ka na ba, Saffron Rose?” Dad asked—I knew he was asking on behalf of Mom like he’s her spokesperson.

I groaned.

“What? It’s a reasonable question,” Dad said. “Halos ’di ka na nga namin makita dito sa bahay. Aba, naging law student din naman kami. Nakaka-uwi pa rin naman kami… maliban na lang nung may kalokohan na kaming ginagawa ni Cha.”

I caught Ate Lily making a face. Sage faked a gag. I glared at Sage but he just rolled his eyes again at me. He knew about Milo, of course, but he’d been surprisingly good about not saying anything to our parents. Though I suspected that had more to do with not wanting to deal with the inevitable parental interrogation than with being considerate of my privacy.

“There might be someone,” I said carefully. Fine. As if naman pwede ko ’to itago forever.

“Might be?” Dad raised an eyebrow.

“There is someone. But it’s still… new. We’re taking things slow.”

Which wasn’t entirely true—we’d been together for months and had just made it official—but I wasn’t ready for the full family inquisition yet.

“What’s he studying?” Mom asked immediately.

“He’s in law school too. Same year.”

“Blockmate?” Dad’s tone became more interested.

“Yes.”

“Okay naman?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Very good grades. Top of the class, actually.”

“Impressive,” Dad said. “Ano’ng pangalan?” Dad asked.

“Milo. Milo Delgado.”

I watched Dad’s face, but there was no recognition there. Why would there be? It wasn’t like the name Delgado would mean anything to him.

“Delgado,” Dad repeated thoughtfully. “Don’t think I know any Delgados in legal circles.”

“He’s from a different background,” I said. “Not a legal family.”

Dad nodded. “Those are often the ones who become the best lawyers. They’re not doing it because it’s expected—they’re doing it because they believe in it.”

If only he knew how much Milo believed in justice. If only he knew how passionate Milo was about protecting people from lawyers who’d lost their way.

If only he knew.

“I think you’ll really like him, Dad,” I said, and I meant it. “He’s… he’s good. Really good.”

“I’m sure I will. Sama mo naman siya dito minsan.”

“Okay, dad. Kapag hindi na siya busy. Super daming ginagawa,” I said, though I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Milo still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of meeting my family, and I didn’t want to push him before he was ready.

But someday. Someday, he’d be ready, and my parents would see what I saw in him. They’d love him just as much as I did.

---

The weeks continued to pass in a blur of classes, study sessions, and stolen moments together. We fell into comfortable rhythms—my library sessions, his work, our evening classes, late-night study sessions that inevitably turned into more intimate activities.

Our grades remained excellent. We both aced our Obligations and Contracts midterm, performed well in Criminal Law II, and dominated Constitutional Law II. In Legal Ethics, we’d developed a particular expertise, often engaging in passionate discussions about professional responsibility and the duties lawyers owed to their clients and society.

“You know what I love about this subject?” I said one evening as we walked from class to the parking area.

“Legal Ethics?”

“Yeah. It’s like… it’s the moral foundation of everything we’re going to do as lawyers. Without this, all the other knowledge is just technical skill.”

“Exactly,” Milo agreed. “Lawyers who ignore ethics aren’t really lawyers at all. They’re just… people with law degrees who use their knowledge to harm others.”

“That’s a pretty harsh way to put it.”

“Is it? When a lawyer takes advantage of someone’s trust, when they use their position to enrich themselves at the expense of their clients or the justice system… what would you call that?”

I thought about it. “Betrayal, I guess. Of everything law is supposed to represent.”

“Exactly.”

We’d reached the car, but neither of us moved to get in. Something about this conversation felt important, like we were circling around something significant.

“Have you ever met lawyers like that?” I asked. “The kind who’ve lost their way?”

Milo was quiet for a long moment, his expression shadowed in the parking lot lighting.

“Everyone has,” he said finally. “They’re not as rare as we’d like to think.”

“That’s depressing.”

“It’s realistic. But it’s also why people like us matter. People who still believe in doing the right thing.”

“People like us,” I repeated softly.

“Yeah. People who won’t sell their souls for money or status or convenience.”

The way he said it—with such conviction, such barely contained anger—made me study his face more carefully.

“Milo—”

“We should go,” he said abruptly. “May dinner ka pa sa inyo, ’di ba?”

He was right, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d been on the verge of something important. Some revelation or confession that might help me understand the shadows I sometimes saw in his eyes.

But like always, the moment passed, and we drove home in comfortable silence, both lost in our own thoughts.

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Chapter 33

“Milo,” I said during one of our late-night study sessions before finals, looking up from my Constitutional Law II notes. “Can you file for leave next Friday?”

He glanced up from his Civil Law codal, eyebrows raised. “Bakit?”

“Because,” I said, closing my book and moving closer to him on his bed, “I want us to go on a vacation. Like, a real vacation. Just the two of us.”

“A vacation?”

“Yes. Somewhere na walang makakagulo sa ’yo. No work calls, no emergencies, no ‘Milo, kailangan mo pumasok ngayon kahit weekend.’”

Milo laughed, that warm sound that always made my chest flutter. “That happened once.”

“Once is one time too many!” I protested. “I feel like we’ve never had uninterrupted time together. Real time where you’re not worried about work or I’m not stressed about exams.”

“So, a vacation,” he repeated, but I could see him considering it.

“A vacation. Just us. No distractions.” I paused, then added, “I’ll arrange everything.”

“Saffron—”

“No arguments. It’s my idea, so I’m arranging for it.”

Milo was quiet for a moment, studying my face. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. But I’ll handle the arrangements.”

“But I just said—”

“I know what you said. But if we’re doing this, I want to plan it.” His tone was gentle but firm.

I wanted to argue, wanted to insist that I didn’t want him spending money he worked so hard for… but I understand… kinda… kung bakit siya ganito.

“Okay,” I said softly.

“Good,” he replied as he gently patted my head.

---

The Friday after our finals ended, I found myself in the car with Milo, driving toward the mountains. For once, he asked me if pwede na siya iyong magdrive. When I asked, he said it’s far and I might be unfamiliar with the road, so he’d prefer it kung siya iyong magda-drive. I asked about the location, but he’d been mysteriously secretive about our destination all week, only telling me to pack casual clothes and to bring a jacket.

“Seriously, where are we going?” I asked for the tenth time as we turned onto a smaller road lined with trees.

“You’ll see.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”

I pouted, but I was too excited to be genuinely annoyed. We’d both finished our exams strong—another semester of excellent grades to add to our transcripts—and the thought of having uninterrupted time with him made me practically vibrate with anticipation.

After another hour of driving through increasingly scenic view, Milo finally turned onto a dirt road that led to a small wooden cabin nestled among trees, with a view of rolling hills stretching into the distance.

“Milo,” I breathed, staring at the picturesque scene. “Wow… ang ganda dito.”

“Come on,” he said, grabbing our bags from the backseat. He unlocked the cabin door and gestured for me to enter first. The moment I stepped inside, I gasped.

The small space was decorated with balloons and flowers, and on the bed was a cute cake with ‘Happy Birthday, Saffron’ written on the middle.

I turned to stare at him, my eyes already filling with tears. “Milo…”

“I know your birthday was last week, but we were so busy with finals that we didn’t get to celebrate properly.” He set down our bags and walked over to me. “Happy birthday, Saffron,” he said, looking at me and smiling.

The tears spilled over then, because I was thinking about how much this must have cost him. The cabin rental, the cake, the flowers, the gas for the drive—all of it representing hours of work, money he’d earned helping other people with legal documents while pursuing his own dreams.

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling me into his arms. “Bakit ka umiiyak?”

“Because,” I sobbed against his chest, “I know how hard you work for everything. And you spent all this money on me.”

“Saffron.” His voice was gentle but firm.

I pulled back to meet his eyes.

“You know I work hard because I want my own money to spend on whatever I want, right? And right now, I want to spend it on you.”

“But—”

“No buts. Just say thank you and eat some cake.”

I laughed despite my tears, reaching up to cup his face. “Thank you. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss me softly. “Now, are you hungry? Kasi kanina pa ako nagugutom.”

---

During the day, we explored the area around the cabin. The location Milo had chosen reminded me of pictures I’d seen on Pinterest—lush greenery and pristine natural beauty that felt untouched by the chaos of Manila. There were ATV trails that wound through the forest, and Milo had somehow arranged for us to rent one.

After an afternoon of racing through dirt trails, we found ourselves at a small stream that cut through the forest, the water crystal clear and surprisingly cool despite the summer heat.

“This is amazing,” I said, sitting on a large rock beside the water and dipping my feet in. “How did you find this place?”

“Research,” Milo said, settling beside me. “Also, you told me na gusto mo tayong dalawa lang,” he continued. “We’re literally the only two people here.”

I scrunched up my nose. “It is perfect.” I leaned against his shoulder, watching the water flow over smooth stones. “Just us and nature. No classmates, no professors, no work calls.”

“No work calls,” he agreed, though something in his tone made me glance up at him.

“You’ve been getting more of those lately.”

“It’s summer. Busy time.”

“For paralegal work?”

“For all legal work.”

I studied his profile, noting the slight tension in his jaw. “Milo, is everything okay? With work, I mean?”

Instead of answering, he turned to face me, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “Right now, I don’t want to think about work. I just want to think about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His thumb traced across my cheekbone, that gentle touch that always made my breath catch. “Bakit ang ganda mo?”

I felt my cheeks heating up.

Milo… I’d long accepted that he’s not the sweet, mushy type… Like he’d rather do stuff for me kaysa magsabi ng kung anumang sweet words sa akin. Kaya kapag ganito iyong sinasabi niya? I shortcircuit talaga!

“Even when I’m sweaty and covered in dirt from ATV riding?”

“Especially then.”

Before I could respond, he was leaning down to kiss me, soft and sweet at first, but quickly deepening as I responded. My hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around my waist.

“Milo,” I breathed against his lips, and felt him shiver.

“Hmm?” he murmured, his mouth moving to my neck, pressing gentle kisses along my pulse point.

“I don’t know… I forgot kung ano ’yung sasabihin ko,” I replied, my head falling back to give him better access.

We stayed like that for a while, kissing and touching with the sound of running water providing a natural soundtrack to our intimacy. There was something about being in nature, away from everything and everyone, that made every touch feel more significant.

“We should head back,” he said eventually, though he made no move to pull away from me.

“Should we?”

“The sun’s getting lower. Naka-schedule tayo for bonfire.”

“In a minute,” I said, capturing his lips again.

He laughed against my mouth but kissed me back, deeper this time, his hands spanning my waist and pulling me closer until I was practically in his lap on the rock.

“You’re dangerous,” he said when we finally broke apart.

“How am I dangerous?”

“You make me want to forget about being responsible.”

“Maybe being responsible is overrated.”

“Says the girl who plans every minute of her day.”

“Maybe you’re a bad influence on me.”

“Good,” he said, smiling against my lips. “You need a bad influence.”

---

That night, as we lay in the small bed, everything felt different. The day had been perfect—adventurous and romantic and intimate in ways that went beyond the physical. But now, in the quiet darkness of the cabin with only the sound of crickets outside, I was acutely aware of every point where our bodies touched.

“Saffron,” Milo whispered, his voice carrying a question I’d been asking myself all day.

“I know,” I whispered back, turning in his arms to face him properly.

His hand found my face in the darkness, fingers tracing the line of my jaw with reverent gentleness. “Are you sure?”

I thought about everything that had brought us to this moment—months of growing trust, deepening love, the intimacy we’d built through conversations and shared experiences and quiet moments like this.

“I’m sure,” I said softly. “I love you. I want this. I want you.”

“Me, too,” he replied, and there was something in his voice—wonder and gratitude and desire all mixed together—that made my chest tight with emotion.

When he kissed me then, it was different from all our previous kisses. Slower, more intentional, like he was trying to memorize the taste of me. I responded with the same careful attention, my hands exploring the planes of his chest, the strength of his shoulders, the way his breath caught when I traced patterns on his skin.

“Saffron…” he murmured against my neck, his lips pressing soft kisses along my collarbone.

In the dim light filtering through the cabin windows, he looked like something out of a dream—all sharp angles and gentle eyes and careful hands.

We took our time learning each other, mapping new territory with careful touches and whispered reassurances. When his shirt came off, I pressed kisses across his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against my lips. When mine followed, his hands shook slightly as they traced my skin, like he couldn’t quite believe I was real.

“Okay?” he asked repeatedly, his voice gentle and careful.

“More than okay,” I assured him each time, because it was true. This was Milo—the person who’d become my everything, who made me laugh and challenged my thinking and held me when I was stressed. This was the person I trusted completely.

When we finally came together, it was with a tenderness that made my eyes fill with tears—not from pain, but from the overwhelming rightness of it all. This was how it was supposed to feel, I realized. Not rushed or desperate or performed, but natural and loving and perfect.

Afterward, we lay tangled together in the small bed, both of us quiet and content.

---

Driving back to Manila the next day felt like returning from another world. The cabin had been our private universe, a place where nothing existed except the two of us and our growing love for each other. But as we navigated the increasingly familiar streets of the city, reality began to reassert itself.

“Back to the real world,” I said with a sigh as we pulled up to his apartment.

“Back to the real world,” he agreed.

But as we unpacked our things and settled back into his small space, I realized that something fundamental had shifted between us. We were more connected now, more intimate in ways that went beyond the physical. We moved around each other differently, touched each other more naturally, spoke to each other with a new kind of ease.

“So,” I said that evening as we shared takeout on his bed, “what’s the plan for the rest of summer?”

“Work. You. Work. And more you.”

I pouted. “Duh,” sabi ko. “But like, specifically. Do you have to work a lot? Any trips planned? Family obligations?”

Milo was quiet for a moment. “Actually, there’s somewhere I want to take you. If you’re okay with it.”

“Where?”

“To visit my parents.”

The words hung in the air between us, significant in a way that made my chest tighten with emotion.

“I’d love that,” I said softly.

---

The cemetery was… just what I expected. For some reason. Milo led me to a modest grave marker near the back, where two names were etched in simple script.

“Mama, Papa,” Milo said quietly, crouching down to place the flowers we’d brought. “Si Saffron. Girlfriend ko.”

The formal introduction made my eyes well up with tears. This felt significant, like being welcomed into a family I’d never have the chance to meet.

“Hello po,” I said softly, feeling slightly foolish but wanting to honor the moment. “It’s nice to meet you.”

We stood in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Milo began to speak again.

“Mama used to tell me stories about when she was younger,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “Before I was born, before things got… complicated. She grew up with money, you know. Not the obscene kind of wealth, but comfortable. Her family had nice houses, she went to good schools, wore nice clothes.”

I listened without speaking.

He was finally opening up… letting me in.

“Even after… even when we didn’t have much, she was still obsessed with looking rich. She’d spend hours thrifting for designer clothes, teaching me how to spot quality pieces that other people didn’t recognize. That’s why I always wear decent brands—she found them for me at secondhand shops and taught me how to take care of them.”

That explained something I’d wondered about but never asked. Milo’s clothes were always well-fitted and good quality, which had seemed inconsistent with someone supporting himself through school.

“She’d tell me stories about the ‘good old days,’” he continued. “About family dinners and vacations and feeling secure. She’d get this look in her eyes when she talked about it, like she was remembering a dream.”

“What happened?” I asked gently.

Milo shrugged, the gesture carrying more weight than words. He let out a long sigh, and something in his expression told me I shouldn’t push for more details.

“Life happened,” he said simply.

I reached for his hand, squeezing gently. “She sounds like she loved you very much.”

“She did.”

We stayed a while longer, with Milo sharing small memories and stories while I listened and tried to imagine the family he’d lost. When we finally left, I felt like I understood him better—not just the facts of his life, but the emotional landscape that had shaped him.

“Thank you,” I said as we drove back to his apartment. “For sharing that with me.”

“Thank you for coming with me,” he said and I squeezed his hand and hoped that he knew that I would always be here for him.

---

As June progressed into July, I noticed changes in our routine. Milo’s work seemed to become more demanding, with longer hours and more frequent weekend calls. He’d get texts at odd hours that would make him frown, or take phone calls he couldn’t discuss.

“Everything okay?” I asked one evening after he’d spent twenty minutes on what sounded like a very serious work call.

“Yeah, just busy season,” he said, but his expression remained troubled.

“What kind of busy season does paralegal work have?”

“Document filing deadlines, case preparation. Legal requirements.”

It was a reasonable explanation, but something about his tone made me feel like there was more to it. I’d started noticing that his knowledge of legal procedures seemed more advanced than what I’d expect from someone in his position. During our casual conversations about law school topics, he’d sometimes reference cases or precedents that seemed beyond basic paralegal work.

“Are you thinking about applying for different positions?” I asked. “Like, with more responsibility?”

“Maybe… but then I’ll be busier,” he said and then looked at me. “Baka magtantrums ka na.”

I pouted. “Tss. Magwork na rin kaya ako sa firm ni Mom para busy ako—or like volunteer work sa chamber ni Dad. Pwede ba ’yon?” I asked because hindi ko talaga alam ’yung sagot. But Milo just shrugged.

Another non-answer. I was starting to recognize when he was deflecting… And I felt like I knew why but I just didn’t have the heart to ask the questions I wanted to ask.

Despite his increasingly busy work schedule, we still spent most of our free time together. I was practically living at his apartment again, only going home when absolutely necessary to maintain appearances with my family. We’d developed new routines—morning coffee together when his schedule allowed, long conversations about our plans for second year, late-night study sessions as we prepared for the increased workload ahead.

“You know,” I said one afternoon as we reviewed the syllabus for our upcoming Property class, “I still can’t believe we’re going to be sophomores.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“Is that what this is? Fun?”

“Some of it. The best parts are fun.”

I leaned over to kiss him, still marveling at how natural it felt to be affectionate with him. The intimacy we’d discovered at the cabin had become a regular part of our relationship, though we were always careful about protection.

“Speaking of fun,” I said, settling back against his side, “my parents asked about you again yesterday.”

I looked at him, looking for specific reaction, but I didn’t see any. “Bakit daw?”

I shrugged. “I guess they’re just curious since lagi akong wala sa bahay,” I told him. “But I told them the same thing I always tell them. That you’re busy with work but that they’ll meet you soon.” I paused.

“Okay,” he said. “Kapag hindi na busy sa trabaho.”

I gave him a small nod and smiled. “Okay,” I said. “But just so you know, they’re going to love you. My dad especially—he’s always respected people who work hard to support themselves through school.”

Milo nodded, but I caught something that looked almost like pain flash across his expression before he turned back to his textbook.

---

As July progressed, I found myself spending less time at Milo’s apartment. Not because I wanted to—I missed our lazy mornings together, our routine of shared coffee and comfortable silences—but because I was dealing with something I wasn’t ready to face.

My period was late. Not just a few days late, but really late. Late enough that I couldn’t convince myself it was just stress or a change in routine from summer break.

The realization had been building slowly over the past week, a nagging awareness that turned into growing dread. At first, I’d tried to ignore it, to distract myself with other things. But as the days passed, the possibility became harder and harder to dismiss.

I wasn’t ready to confirm it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

So instead of dealing with it, I’d been making excuses to stay home. “Family dinner tonight,” or “Sage needs help with something,” or “Mom wants me to help her organize files.” All technically true, but really just ways to avoid being alone with Milo when I felt like I was carrying this huge secret.

“Saff, are you okay?” Ate Lily asked on a Thursday afternoon when she found me lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. “You’ve been weird all week.”

“I’m not weird.”

“You’re definitely weird. Also, it’s weirder that you’re here… Is everything okay with you and Milo?”

I sat up, looking at my sister. “Ate,” I said carefully, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Hypothetically speaking, if someone thought they might be… pregnant… but they weren’t sure, and they were scared to find out, what would you tell them?”

Ate Lily’s expression immediately became more serious. “I’d tell them that not knowing is usually worse than knowing.”

“Even if they’re terrified of what the answer might be?”

“Especially then.” She studied my face carefully. “Saff, is this hypothetical?”

I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Maybe.”

“When was your last period?”

“I don’t know! That’s the problem. I’ve been so busy with school and then summer break that I wasn’t really keeping track. But it’s been… a while.”

Ate Lily was quiet for a moment. “Do you want to find out?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want to find out?”

I thought about it. About spending another day staring at the ceiling, avoiding Milo, spiraling with hypothetical scenarios. About the relief of actually knowing, one way or another.

“Yes,” I said finally. “I think I do.”

“Okay. Get dressed. We’re going for a drive.”

---

An hour later, we were pulling into a gas station along SLEX, far enough from our usual areas that there was no chance of running into anyone we knew.

“I’ll wait here,” Ate Lily said, handing me the test that she bought earlier. “Take your time.”

I headed to the rest room. Five minutes later, I was staring at a single line on the test.

Okay… that meant I wasn’t pregnant… right?

My hands were trembling as I searched online. I just needed to be sure. Hindi ko alam kung ano ang ginagawa kapag ganito.

But then it got confirmed—one line meant negative.

Hindi ako buntis.

I should have felt pure relief. Instead, I felt a confusing mix of emotions—relief, yes, but also something that might have been disappointment. Which didn’t make sense, because I definitely wasn’t ready to be a mother.

When I got back to the car, Ate Lily took one look at my face and started the engine.

“Negative?” she asked.

“Negative.”

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

“Confused,” I admitted. “I should be relieved, right? And I am. But also… I don’t know. Is it weird that part of me feels disappointed?”

“Not weird at all,” Lily said, navigating back onto the highway. “It’s normal to have complicated feelings about these things. Even when it’s not what you want, there’s something about the possibility of creating life with someone you love that can feel… significant.”

“I know… And I love him so much, Ate… But I’m not ready to be a mom.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean the idea doesn’t have some appeal in the abstract.”

We drove in comfortable silence for a while before Ate Lily took the exit for Tagaytay.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Dinner,” she said. “It’s been awhile since we bonded na the two of us lang, right?”

---

An hour later, we were sitting at a small café overlooking Taal Lake, both of us nursing iced coffees and enjoying the cooler air.

“So,” Ate Lily said, “do you want to talk about what’s really going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been dating this guy for… quite a while, you’re clearly serious about him, but we still haven’t met him. And now you’re having pregnancy scares that you’re dealing with alone instead of talking to him about it.”

I stirred my coffee absently. “It’s complicated.”

“How complicated can it be? Either you trust him or you don’t.”

“I trust him. It’s not about trust.”

“Then what is it about?”

I thought about how to explain it. “He’s… private. About his family, about his past, about personal stuff. And I don’t want to push him before he’s ready.”

“Has he met Sage?”

“Yes. They had dinner together a few months ago.”

“So he’s okay meeting your brother but not me? Or our parents?”

When she put it like that, it did sound strange. “I guess.”

“Saff, you’re in love with this guy, right?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s in love with you?”

“Yes… I mean, I know he is.”

“Then what’s he waiting for? If you’re serious about each other, meeting the parents is a normal step. Unless…” She paused. “Unless he’s not actually serious about you.”

“He is serious about me,” I said immediately. “I know he is.”

“Then prove it. Stop letting him avoid meeting our parents. If he really sees a future with you, he should want to meet the people who are important to you.”

“What if he’s just not ready? Kasi ’di ba hindi naman lahat same ng pacing sa life?”

“Saff, you’ve been together for almost a year. You’re sleeping together, you’re practically living together, you’re making plans for the future. How much more ready does he need to be?”

I couldn’t argue with her logic. “But he even brought me to his parents’ grave! That’s got to mean something, right?” I asked, but I was met with Ate Lily’s silence. “So… what do you think I should do?”

“I think you should stop accepting vague replies and start asking for specific answers. And if he keeps deflecting, then maybe you need to figure out what he’s really avoiding.”

---

That evening, I finally went back to Milo’s apartment. He was clearly relieved to see me, though he tried to play it casual.

“Hey,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “Muntik ko nang makalimutan mukha mo. Busy few days?”

“Something like that.” I settled against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.”

“My parents have been asking about you again. They want to meet you.”

I looked at his face. There was… nothing there. Maybe Ate Lily was wrong—he wasn’t hiding anything. He’s just busy. “I know. You mentioned that.”

“I was thinking maybe we could have dinner with them next weekend? Nothing formal, just family dinner at home.”

“Next weekend?” He was quiet for a moment. “I might have to work.”

“On a Sunday?”

“It’s possible. Sinabi ko sa ’yo dati na magiging busy ako sa trabaho, ’di ba?”

Another deflection. I pulled back to look at him. “Milo, are you avoiding meeting my parents?”

“I’m not avoiding anything. I’m just busy with work.”

“You met Sage.”

“That was different.”

“How was it different?”

“It just was.” He looked uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “Can we talk about this later? May gagawin pa ako.”

I stared at him, Ate Lily’s words echoing in my mind. Here I was, offering him a concrete opportunity to take the next step in our relationship, and he was deflecting with work excuses and vague promises.

“Fine,” I said. “But we are going to talk about this. Soon.”

“Of course. When the timing is better.”

As he turned back to his work materials, I made a decision. I was tired of accepting non-answers and vague promises. If Milo wouldn’t tell me what was really going on, I’d have to find out for myself.

I loved him too much to let whatever this was destroy our relationship without at least understanding what we were fighting.

But first, I needed to figure out what exactly I was looking for.

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Chapter 34

Saturday morning felt different from the moment I woke up. Maybe it was the way the sunlight streamed through Milo’s apartment windows, casting everything in a golden glow that should have felt peaceful but instead felt ominous. Or maybe it was the empty space beside me in bed, the coolness of sheets that told me Milo had been gone for a while.

I reached for my phone, squinting at the bright screen. 9:47 AM. Two missed calls and a text from Milo.

‘Emergency at work. May kailangan asikasuhin. Sorry. I will text you kung makaka-uwi ako before lunch.’

I stared at the message, that familiar knot of confusion settling in my chest. Emergency paralegal work? On a Saturday morning? We’d planned to spend the entire day together—reviewing cases, ordering takeout, maybe watching a movie. Just us, no interruptions, no mysterious work calls.

I set the phone aside and padded to his small kitchen, going through the motions of making coffee. But as I waited for the water to boil, Ate Lily’s words from the other night echoed in my mind with uncomfortable clarity.

“Stop accepting vague replies and start asking for specific answers. And if he keeps deflecting, then maybe you need to figure out what he’s really avoiding.”

The thing was, I’d been trying to ask for specific answers. Every time I brought up meeting my parents, every time I questioned the nature of his work, every time I tried to dig deeper into his past—I was met with the same gentle deflections, the same promises that we’d talk.

Pero kailan?

Hanggang kailan ako tahimik na maghihintay?

I poured the hot water over the instant coffee, watching the granules dissolve and turn the water dark. The familiar ritual should have been comforting, but instead it felt hollow. How many mornings had I made coffee in this kitchen, content to exist in our bubble of domestic bliss, never pushing for more information about the man I loved?

The man I loved but apparently didn’t really know.

I settled on his bed with my coffee, laptop open in front of me with the intention of reviewing Property Law cases. But the words on the screen blurred together as my mind wandered. More than a year since I’d known Milo , and what did I actually know about Milo Delgado?

I knew he was brilliant—smarter than anyone in our class, probably smarter than anyone I’d ever met. I knew he was kind but guarded, generous despite his financial struggles, passionate about justice in a way that sometimes seemed personal. I knew he loved me, even if he’d never actually said the words out loud. I knew the way he took his coffee, the way his breathing changed when he was falling asleep, the spot on his neck that made him shiver when I kissed it.

But I didn’t know why he’d never introduced me to any friends from work. I didn’t know why his legal knowledge seemed far more advanced than what I’d expect from a paralegal. I didn’t know why his eyes sometimes went dark when we discussed ethics cases in class. I didn’t know why the thought of meeting my parents made him tense up like he was facing an interrogation.

I closed the laptop with more force than necessary, frustrated with my own spiraling thoughts. This was ridiculous. Bakit ba masyado kong pinagdududahan si Milo? Hindi rin naman niya kilala lahat ng mga kaibigan ko… And it was my own doing kaya maraming alam sa akin si Milo because I wouldn’t stop talking about the things that I like… and fine, my life’s probably a bit out there in the public. Hindi naman kasalanan ni Milo na private siyang tao.

Everything had a logical explanation.

But as I looked around his apartment—this space I’d spent countless hours in but had never really examined—I realized how little of himself Milo actually revealed, even here. The law books could belong to any student. The coffee mug was generic. The few clothes visible were carefully maintained but unremarkable. It was like he’d deliberately created a space that revealed nothing personal about who he was.

Except…

My eyes fell on the small table where the framed photo of his parents usually sat. The photo was still there, but behind the small table was a small box.

I shouldn’t.

I absolutely should not.

But my feet were already carrying me toward the table before my brain caught up with my actions.

The box was heavier than it looked, made of dark wood that felt smooth and worn under my fingers. There was no lock, just a simple latch that opened with the slightest pressure.

‘This is wrong,’ the rational part of my mind whispered. ’ You’re violating his privacy. You’re betraying his trust.’

But the other part of my mind—the part that was tired of deflections and half-answers and feeling like I was in love with someone who only existed halfway—that part was stronger.

‘You love him,’ I told myself as my fingers hesitated on the latch. ’ You’re doing this because you love him. Because relationships require honesty, and if he won’t be honest with you, then you need to understand why. The sooner you figure out what’s happening, the better for both of you.’

The rationalization felt flimsy even as I thought it, but it was enough to make me lift the lid.

The first thing I saw were photographs—old ones, the kind with slightly faded colors that suggested they were from decades ago. I lifted them carefully, my heart hammering as I realized I was about to see glimpses of Milo’s family history that he’d never shared with me.

The top photograph showed a family of three: an older man and woman flanking a young woman who looked to be in her twenties. The young woman had Milo’s eyes, and I realized with a start that this must be his mother. But the setting was… unexpected.

They were standing in front of what looked like a mansion—not just a nice house, but an actual mansion with white columns and manicured gardens. All three were dressed in expensive-looking clothes, and the older man wore what looked like a Rolex. These weren’t people who had struggled financially. These were people who had been wealthy.

Very wealthy.

I flipped to the next photo: the same young woman, but older now, standing next to a man I didn’t recognize. They were at what looked like some kind of social event, surrounded by other well-dressed people. The woman—Milo’s mother—was wearing jewelry that probably cost more than my car.

Another photo: the same mansion, but this time with a “For Sale” sign in front of it.

My hands were shaking now as I continued through the photos, watching what seemed to be the story of a family’s fall from grace. Pictures of luxury cars, then pictures of modest apartments. Pictures of social events and family gatherings, then pictures that became fewer and farther between, with faces that looked increasingly strained.

The last photo in the stack was one that made my chest tighten with sudden understanding. It showed Milo as a young teenager, maybe thirteen or fourteen, sitting next to a woman who was clearly his mother. But this woman looked nothing like the confident, wealthy young woman from the earlier photos. This woman looked… broken. Hollow. Like something essential had been drained out of her.

They were sitting on what looked like a public bench, and both of them looked like they were trying to smile for the camera but couldn’t quite manage it. On the back of the photo, someone had written in faded ink: ‘I love you, my little boy. I wish life could have been better for you.’

Just five years before he started law school. Five years before I met him.

I set the photos aside with trembling hands and looked deeper into the box. There were letters—bills that had “FINAL NOTICE” stamped in red, legal documents that were too complex for me to understand at a glance, and what looked like medical paperwork.

And then, at the bottom of the box, folded newspaper clippings.

The first one was from the business section of a major newspaper, dated before I was even born. The headline read: “Family Disputes Multi-Million Peso Inheritance Case.”

But it was the second article that made my blood run cold.

‘BAR Topnotcher Iñigo Borromeo Leads the Win in Complex Inheritance Dispute.’

My hands went numb as I read my father’s name, printed in black and white in a newspaper article that was clearly about Milo’s family. The article was accompanied by a photo of my father—younger, but unmistakably him—standing outside a courthouse with a satisfied expression.

I forced myself to read the article, even as my vision started to blur with panic.

’In a stunning legal victory, rising star attorney Iñigo Borromeo successfully challenged the validity of businessman Eduardo Delgado’s will, securing a multi-million peso inheritance for his clients. The case, which has been closely watched in legal circles, hinged on questions of the will’s authenticity and the mental capacity of Delgado at the time of signing.

“The deceased’s daughter, Sofia Delgado, had been the primary beneficiary of the contested will, inheriting the family’s substantial real estate holdings and business interests. However, Borromeo’s clients—distant relatives of the deceased—presented evidence that the will had been forged and that Sofia Delgado had unduly influenced her father in his final years.’

“‘Justice has been served,’ Borromeo said outside the courthouse. ‘The evidence clearly showed that the original will was fraudulent, and my clients are the rightful heirs to Eduardo Delgado’s estate.’

I read the article three times before the full implications sank in.

My father had destroyed Milo’s family.

The wealth in those early photos, the mansion, the luxury cars, the jewelry—all of it had belonged to Milo’s family until my father took it away from them. The broken woman in that last photo with teenage Milo wasn’t just someone who had fallen on hard times. She was someone whose entire world had been ripped away from her by legal maneuvering.

By my father.

I looked at the next clipping with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. This one was from a different newspaper, dated two years later:

‘Sofia Delgado, 45, Dies by Suicide After Years of Legal Battles.’

The article was short, clinical in its description of a woman who had “struggled with depression and financial difficulties following a lengthy inheritance dispute.” It mentioned that she was survived by a teenage son.

Milo.

Milo, who had watched his mother’s world collapse because of my father. Milo, who had grown up hearing about the lawyer named Borromeo who had destroyed everything his family had built. Milo, who had spent his teenage years watching his mother sink into despair until she couldn’t fight anymore.

Milo, who had probably recognized my last name the very first day we met and had known exactly who I was this entire time.

The box slipped from my nerveless fingers, contents scattering across the floor. Photos and letters and newspaper clippings—evidence of a tragedy that I had been unknowingly connected to for my entire relationship with him.

How long had he known? How long had he been looking at me and seeing the daughter of the man who had killed his mother?

Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Maybe not legally, maybe not literally, but my father’s actions had led directly to his mother’s death. To Milo growing up alone, working to support himself, carrying anger and grief that I was only now beginning to understand.

The passionate way he spoke about unethical lawyers in class. The darkness in his eyes when we discussed cases about legal manipulation. The way he sometimes looked at me like he was fighting some internal battle.

He’d been fighting the battle between loving me and hating what I represented.

And I’d been too blind to see it.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The voice came from behind me, low and dangerous in a tone I’d never heard from Milo before. I spun around, still kneeling on the floor surrounded by the contents of his private box, and met his eyes.

He was standing in the doorway, still wearing his work clothes, and the expression on his face was something I’d never seen before. Not just anger—though there was plenty of that. Hurt. Betrayal. And underneath it all, something that looked like devastation.

“Milo,” I whispered, scrambling to my feet. “I can explain—”

“Explain?” The word came out like a whip crack. “Explain what exactly? How you decided to go through my private things while I was gone? How you violated my trust? How you—” He stopped abruptly, his eyes falling on the newspaper clippings in my hands.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“So you know,” he said quietly, and all the anger seemed to drain out of him, replaced by something that looked like resignation.

“I know,” I whispered. “Milo, I’m so sorry—”

“Sorry?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You’re sorry? For what, exactly?”

“For looking through your things… I know na hindi ko dapat ginawa,” I said immediately. “I shouldn’t have—I know I shouldn’t have, but I was confused and you won’t talk to me and I just—”

“You just what? Decided you had the right to go through my things because I wasn’t moving fast enough for you?”

“That’s not—it’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like, Saffron?” He stepped into the apartment fully, closing the door behind him with deliberate calm. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you went through my private things while I was at work. You violated the one place I thought I could trust you.”

The words hit me like physical blows. He was right—I knew he was right—but the hurt and confusion were making me defensive.

“I wouldn’t have had to if you’d just been honest with me!” The words came out louder than I’d intended. “Almost a year, Milo! Almost a year we’ve been together, and you never told me! You let me talk about my father like he was some kind of hero when you knew—when you knew what he did to your family!”

“Because I needed time!” he shot back, his own voice rising. “Because this isn’t easy for me! Because figuring out how to love someone when their last name makes you want to punch something isn’t exactly straightforward!”

“So you just… what? Decided to lie to me forever?”

“I didn’t lie to you. I just—” He ran his hands through his hair, looking suddenly exhausted. “I just needed time to figure out how to tell you.”

“How much time? Another year? Two years? When exactly were you planning to mention that you’ve known who I was this entire time?”

“When I was ready!”

“When is that, Milo? When?”

He was quiet for a long moment, staring at the floor where his private memories were still scattered. When he looked up, his eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“When I could finally reconcile the fact that I’m in love with the daughter of the man I grew up hating,” he said quietly. “When I could figure out how to be with you without feeling like I’m betraying my mother’s memory.”

The words should have been romantic—a declaration of love I’d been waiting months to hear. Instead, they felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

“Is that what you think of me?” I whispered. “The daughter of the guy who destroyed your family?”

I saw him flinch, saw the immediate regret cross his features. “Saffron, that’s not—”

“That is what you think of me.” The realization was settling over me like ice water. “Every time you look at me, that’s what you see.”

“No,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. “I love you. I do love you, I—”

“But loving me feels wrong.”

The silence stretched between us, heavy with truths neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

“Yes,” he whispered finally. “Sometimes it does.”

I felt something break inside my chest. Not just my heart—something deeper. The foundation of everything I’d thought our relationship was built on.

“I just asked for time,” he continued, his voice barely audible. “I just needed time to work through it.”

“Time to work through loving me,” I said, and it wasn’t a question.

“Time to figure out how to love you without hating myself for it.”

I took a step toward him, wanting to touch his face, to somehow bridge the chasm that had opened between us. But he flinched away from me, and the small movement felt like another blow.

“Do you hate me?” I asked, because I needed to know. Because I couldn’t leave without understanding exactly where we stood.

“No,” he said immediately, and for the first time since he’d walked in, his voice was gentle. “I could never hate you, Saffron. I love you. But…”

“But loving me feels like betraying her.”

He nodded, not meeting my eyes. “I don’t know how to reconcile those things. And I don’t know if I ever will.”

“So what does that mean for us?”

“I don’t know.”

I looked around the apartment—at the scattered photos and newspaper clippings, at the evidence of a tragedy I’d been unknowingly connected to, at the space where we’d built something beautiful that was now falling apart.

“I should go,” I said finally.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “You should.”

I started gathering my things—my laptop, my phone charger, the few pieces of clothing I’d left here over the months. It felt surreal, packing up pieces of a life I’d thought was permanent.

“Saffron,” he said as I reached the door.

I turned back, hoping for… something. An apology, a promise, some indication that we could work through this.

“I really did need more time,” he said instead.

“I know,” I whispered. “But I needed honesty.”

The walk to my car felt like moving through water. Everything seemed distant and muffled, like I was experiencing it from underwater. I drove home on autopilot, my mind struggling to process what had just happened.

The man I loved—the man I’d given everything to—had known who I was from the beginning. Had been carrying this secret, this anger, this grief, every single day we’d been together. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered endearment had been colored by his knowledge of what my father had done to his family.

How many times had I talked about my father’s integrity, his commitment to justice, his ethical standards? How many times had Milo sat there listening, knowing the truth, saying nothing?

And how many times had he looked at me and seen not Saffron, the girl who loved him, but Saffron Borromeo, daughter of the man who had destroyed everything he should’ve had?

---

I pulled into our driveway and sat in the car for several minutes, trying to compose myself. The last thing I wanted was to face my family while I was falling apart. But as I walked toward the front door, I could hear voices from the living room—my parents were home.

Perfect.

I tried to slip upstairs unnoticed, but Dad’s voice stopped me before I reached the second step.

“Saffron? Ikaw ba ’yan?”

“Hi, Dad,” I called back, not trusting my voice to remain steady if I had to hold a conversation.

“Tara muna dito.”

I closed my eyes, summoning every ounce of self-control I had left. “Actually, I’m kind of tired—”

“Saffron.” His voice carried that gentle authority that meant this wasn’t a request.

I found him in his study, grading papers at his desk. He looked up when I entered, and I watched his expression change as he took in my appearance.

“You look upset,” he said, setting down his pen. “Okay ka lang ba?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look like you’ve been crying.” He stood up, moving closer with that concerned parent expression I’d seen countless times growing up. “Is everything alright with school? O sa inyo ng boyfriend mo?”

The casual mention of Milo—my father referring to him as “boyfriend” like he was just some normal guy I was dating—made something snap inside me.

“What did you do?” The words came out sharper than I’d intended.

Dad blinked, clearly taken aback. “What did I do about what?”

“What did you do to Milo’s family?”

I watched as confusion flickered across his features, followed quickly by wariness. “Milo’s family? Saffron, what are you talking about?”

“Delgado,” I said, and the moment the name left my lips, I saw recognition cross his face. Saw his shoulders tense. Saw the careful blankness that meant he was shifting into lawyer mode.

“Delgado,” he repeated slowly.

“Sofia Delgado. Eduardo Delgado. Ring any bells?” My voice was getting louder, but I couldn’t seem to control it. “The inheritance case you won years ago? The case that made your career?”

Dad was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. “Saan mo narinig ’yan?”

“Because Sofia Delgado was Milo’s mother!” The words exploded out of me. “Because the family you destroyed—they were his family! Because the woman who killed herself after losing everything—that was his mother!”

“Saffron—”

“How could you?” I was crying now, months of suppressed doubts and fears pouring out all at once. “How could you do that to them? How could you, Dad?!”

“Stop.” Dad’s voice carried the authority of a judge, and I found myself obeying despite my emotional state. “Sit down. Let me explain.”

“Explain what? How you ruined innocent people’s lives for money?”

“Sit. Down.”

I collapsed into the chair across from his desk, my entire body shaking with adrenaline and grief.

Dad was quiet for several minutes, and when he finally spoke, his voice was careful and measured. “The Delgado case was complicated—”

“Complicated how?”

“The will in question was… questionable. There were legitimate concerns about its authenticity, about whether Eduardo Delgado had been mentally competent when he signed it. My clients had valid claims to the inheritance.”

“Valid enough to destroy a woman’s life?”

“I didn’t destroy anything,” Dad said firmly. “I presented evidence in a court of law. I did my job.”

“Your job was to steal a family’s inheritance!”

“My job was to represent my clients’ interests within the bounds of the law. Which I did.” His voice was getting harder now, more defensive. “I didn’t do anything illegal, Saffron. I didn’t fabricate evidence or suborn perjury. I used legal technicalities and precedent to build a case for my clients.”

“Legal technicalities.” I stared at him in disbelief. “You destroyed a family with legal technicalities.”

“I won a case using legitimate legal strategies.”

“And Sofia Delgado killed herself because of it!”

“Sofia Delgado killed herself because she couldn’t accept the court’s decision,” Dad snapped, and immediately looked like he regretted the words.

The silence that followed was devastating.

I looked at my father—my hero, the man I’d admired my entire life, the person who’d taught me about justice and integrity and doing the right thing—and saw someone I didn’t recognize.

“Do you even care?” I whispered. “That she’s dead? That her son grew up alone because of what you did?”

“Of course I care. But Saffron, you don’t understand the complexities—”

“I understand enough.” I stood up, my legs shaky but holding me. “I understand that you knew the case was ethically questionable and you pursued it anyway. I understand that you used legal manipulation to steal from a family. And I understand that you’ve never felt guilty about it.”

“I followed the law—”

“You followed the letter of the law while completely ignoring its spirit!” The words came out like an accusation. “You taught me that being a lawyer means fighting for justice, but what you did—that wasn’t justice. That was just winning.”

Dad’s face was getting red now, his own temper starting to show. “You don’t get to judge decisions you weren’t there for—”

“I get to judge the man who raised me to believe in integrity and then threw it away for career advancement!”

“Enough!”

The word cracked through the air like a whip.

I flinched from where I was standing.

I stared at him in shock.

This was the first time he’s ever raised his voice at me.

“I’m sorry,” mahina niyang sabi. “We can discuss this some other time—”

But I was already backing toward the door, my face burning and my eyes filling with tears again.

“Saffron, wait—”

I didn’t wait. I ran upstairs to my room, slamming the door behind me and turning the lock. Almost immediately, I heard footsteps in the hallway, followed by knocking.

“Saff? Saff, what happened?” Sage’s voice, concerned and urgent. “I heard shouting. Are you okay?”

I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. “Go away, Sage.”

“Like hell. What happened? Why were you and Dad yelling?”

More knocking, more concerned questions that I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I went to my bed and pulled a blanket over my head, trying to block out the sound of my brother’s voice, trying to block out everything that had happened in the last few hours.

The man I loved had been carrying a devastating secret about my family for our entire relationship. My father—my hero—had destroyed innocent people and felt no remorse about it. And I was caught in the middle, connected to both of them, loyal to both of them, and completely lost about what any of it meant.

How was I supposed to choose between them? How was I supposed to love Milo knowing that loving me caused him pain? How was I supposed to respect my father knowing what he’d done?

And how was I supposed to live with the knowledge that my family’s success had been built, at least in part, on another family’s destruction?

The knocking continued for another few minutes before I heard footsteps retreating down the hallway. I stayed curled under the blanket, crying until I had no tears left, wondering how everything I’d thought I knew about my life had turned out to be a lie.

In the space of a few hours, I’d lost my boyfriend, my faith in my father, and my understanding of who I was. All because I’d opened a box looking for answers and found more truth than I could handle.

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Chapter 35

I woke up to sunlight streaming through my bedroom windows and the immediate, crushing realization that everything that happened yesterday wasn’t a nightmare. The events came flooding back in painful waves—the newspaper clippings, Milo’s devastated expression, my father’s defensive explanations, the way everything I thought I knew about my life had shattered in the span of a few hours.

My eyes felt like sandpaper, swollen and burning from crying until I’d finally collapsed into exhausted sleep sometime after 3AM. I’d cried until there were no tears left, until my chest ached from the force of my sobs, until my pillow was soaked and my throat was raw.

The first thing I did was reach for my phone, hope fluttering in my chest despite everything.

Maybe Milo had texted.

Maybe he’d had time to think and decided we could work through this somehow.

Kasi… hindi ko alam kung ano ang gagawin ko kung… ito na ’yon.

My heart sank when I saw the empty notification screen. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.

The silence felt louder than any argument could have been.

I wished we argued.

I wished we shouted.

This silence was hurting me.

I set the phone aside and stared at the ceiling, trying to summon the energy to get out of bed. The thought of facing another day—of pretending everything was normal, of going to classes and seeing Milo and acting like my entire world hadn’t imploded—felt overwhelming.

But before I could spiral too deeply into my own misery, I heard footsteps in the hallway. Quick, deliberate footsteps that stopped right outside my door.

The moment I sat up, my bedroom door swung open to reveal Sage standing there na para bang kagabi niya pa ako hinihintay doon, like he’d been waiting for any sound that indicated I was awake.

“Saff,” he said immediately, stepping into my room without invitation. “What the hell happened last night?”

I pulled my blanket up to my chin, suddenly self-conscious about my swollen eyes and tear-stained face. “Nothing. Just… tired.”

“Bullshit.” Sage closed the door behind him and crossed his arms. “Narinig namin kayo ni Mama na sumisigaw. And then you locked yourself in here and wouldn’t talk to me no matter how much I knocked. So don’t tell me it was nothing.”

Looking at my twin brother—his concerned expression, the way he was clearly prepared to camp out in my room until he got answers—I felt a stab of something that might have been envy. Sage still lived in a world where our father was a hero, where our family’s success was built on integrity and hard work. He didn’t know that Dad had destroyed innocent people. He didn’t carry the weight of knowing that our comfortable life had been paid for with someone else’s suffering.

Part of me wanted to tell him everything. To share this devastating burden so I wouldn’t have to carry it alone. But looking at his face—still soft with innocence, still trusting and uncomplicated—I couldn’t bring myself to destroy his faith in our father the way mine had been destroyed.

“It was just a misunderstanding,” I said finally. “Dad was being overprotective. You know how he is sometimes. OA.”

Sage studied my face, clearly not buying the explanation but also recognizing that I wasn’t going to give him anything more substantial. “Are you okay though? You look like shit.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Bakit mukha kang kinagat ng bubuyog?” he asked, trying to be a smart-ass, but I knew that he was just trying to lighten the mood… The genuine concern in his voice almost broke my resolve. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t be the one to tell him that our hero had feet of clay, that our family’s legacy was more complicated than we’d ever imagined. Let him keep his innocence for a little while longer.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Just… tired. Super hassle ng second year.”

Sage looked like he wanted to push further, but something in my expression must have warned him off. “Okay. But if you need to talk—”

“I know. Thank you.”

After he left, I forced myself out of bed and into the shower, hoping the hot water would help reduce the swelling around my eyes. As I stood under the shower, I found myself wondering what else my father might be hiding from us. If he could keep something this significant secret for years, if he could build his career on the destruction of innocent people and never mention it, what else didn’t we know about him?

The thought made me feel sick.

When I finally made my way downstairs, I was surprised to see Dad sitting at the kitchen table with his coffee, still in his pajamas. On a normal Monday, he would have been gone by 7AM, already at the court or his chambers preparing for the day’s cases.

He had always loved being a judge… sabi niya sa amin dati, kapag lawyer ka pero corrupt iyong judge, wala ka pa ring laban kahit gaano mo pa galingan… So he really fought to be a judge—left the comfort of having his own law firm to help give justice to those who deserve it.

But maybe he was just full of lies.

Ewan.

“Saffron,” he said as soon as he saw me, setting down his mug. “Pwede ba tayong mag-usap?”

“I’m going to be late for school,” I said immediately, not meeting his eyes.

“Pwede ba? Kahit ilang minuto lang?” he asked.

I remained silent for a while. “You’ll be late for work.”

“Took an emergency leave.”

“What?”

“This can’t wait,” he said with a painful smile on his face. I felt my chest tightening. I hated this. I hated everything about this.

I wished… I didn’t know about this.

“I don’t want to talk,” I said, grabbing a piece of bread and heading for the door.

“Saffron, please.” There was something in his voice that made me pause. “Iyong sinabi mo kagabi… Alam ko galit ka, pero marami ka pang hindi alam.”

“I understand enough.”

“No—”

I turned around to face him, and the pleading expression on his face almost made me waver. Almost.

“I understand that you destroyed a family,” I said quietly, hearing my own heart shatter once again. “I understand that a woman killed herself because of what you did. And I understand that you’ve never once, in all the years I’ve known you, expressed any regret about it.”

Dad flinched like I’d slapped him. “That’s not fair—”

“Isn’t it?”

“I followed the law, Saffron. I did everything by the book. I didn’t break any rules or cross any ethical lines. I represented my clients’ interests to the best of my ability, which is exactly what lawyers are supposed to do.”

“And that makes it okay?”

“It makes it legal. And sometimes, that’s all we can do. Sometimes the law and perfect justice don’t align, and we have to choose.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. This was my father—the man who’d taught me about justice, about fighting for what was right regardless of the personal cost. And here he was, defending actions that had led directly to someone’s death by hiding behind legal technicalities.

“I can’t,” I whispered. “I can’t talk about this right now.”

“Saffron,” he called my name.

But I couldn’t.

We’ll just both disappoint each other if we talk now.

So, I was running away. I was avoiding the conversation because I was terrified of what else I might learn about him, about our family, about the foundations my entire life had been built on.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just… I need time.”

Dad was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentler. “I love you, Saffron. Kayo ni Sage, ni Lily, ng Mama mo… kayo ’yung buhay ko. Iyong nangyari dati…”

I didn’t even know that it was possible to physically hurt like this.

Me watching tears pooled in my father’s eyes—knowing full well that I caused it.

“Alam ko disappointed ka. I’m sorry. Pero hindi ko na mababago ’yung nangyari.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It did change things.

It changed everything.

“I’m going to be late,” I said… I couldn’t even look at him.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, leaving him sitting at the kitchen table with his explanation. I couldn’t face any more revelations about my family right now. I was already carrying more truth than I knew how to handle.

---

I drove aimlessly for almost an hour, not ready to face school but not wanting to stay home either. Eventually, I found myself at a small coffee shop near campus, one that was usually empty during morning hours. I ordered a large coffee and found a corner table where I could hide behind my laptop and try to make sense of my notes.

But concentration was impossible. Every few minutes, I found myself checking my phone, hoping for some sign from Milo. A text, a missed call, anything to indicate that he was thinking about me, that maybe we could find a way through this.

The silence was deafening.

I knew I had no right to expect communication from him. I’d violated his privacy, forced him into a conversation he wasn’t ready for, pushed him to confront feelings he’d been trying to process on his own timeline. But knowing I was wrong didn’t make the silence hurt any less.

He’d said he loved me. In the middle of all the anger and pain, he’d finally said the words I’d been waiting to hear for months. But they’d come wrapped in so much anguish—loving me felt like betraying his mother’s memory—that they’d broken my heart instead of healing it.

How do you fight for a relationship when your very existence causes the person you love pain?

I stared at my phone screen, typing and deleting messages I didn’t have the courage to send. What was I supposed to say? Sorry for being the daughter of the man who destroyed your family? Sorry for existing? Sorry for falling in love with you when you already knew it was impossible?

By 5PM, my eyes had returned to something closer to normal, and I couldn’t avoid school any longer. I gathered my things and drove to campus, my heart hammering with anxiety about seeing Milo.

Instead of heading straight to our classroom, my feet carried me to the area where Milo smokes. It was his usual spot for processing difficult emotions, and part of me hoped I’d find him there, that maybe we could talk away from the pressure of classmates and academic obligations.

But the area was empty.

I stood there for several minutes, staring at the bench where I’d often found him during our first semester, remembering how mysterious and unreachable he’d seemed back then. Now I understood why. He’d been carrying this massive secret, this devastating connection between us, from the very beginning.

The realization that he’d never really let me know him—not fully, not honestly—made my chest ache with fresh grief.

I forced myself to walk toward the building, each step feeling heavier than the last. As I approached the main entrance, I saw a familiar figure emerging from the library—Milo, carrying a stack of books and looking as exhausted as I felt.

Our eyes met across the field, and for a moment, neither of us moved. He looked like he’d slept about as well as I had, with dark circles under his eyes and that careful blankness that meant he was holding himself together through sheer willpower.

He’d been in the library. During the time when he usually came to find me at my usual study spot. Did that mean he’d been looking for me? Or just avoiding the places where he might run into me?

We walked toward the building together, maintaining careful distance, neither of us speaking. The silence between us felt different from our comfortable quiet moments of the past. This silence was loaded with everything we weren’t saying, everything we couldn’t figure out how to address.

In the classroom, we took our usual seats next to each other, but the familiar comfort of our shared space felt strained. I was hyperaware of every inch of distance between us, of the way Milo kept his attention focused straight ahead, of how carefully we avoided any accidental contact.

The class began. I tried to take notes, tried to focus on the lecture, but I kept stealing glances at Milo. His jaw was tight, his posture rigid, and I could see the tension radiating from him like heat. When Sir suddenly mentioned a case involving disputed wills, I saw Milo’s hand tighten on his pen until his knuckles went white.

The hour dragged by with excruciating slowness. Every minute felt like an hour, every case citation felt like another layer of pain between us. By the time the class was dismissed, I was ready to bolt from the room just to escape the suffocating tension.

But as I gathered my things and headed for the door, I realized Milo wasn’t behind me. I turned to see him still sitting at his desk, staring at his closed notebook.

I hesitated in the doorway, torn between giving him space and wanting to check on him. The decision was made for me when he finally looked up and met my eyes.

Slowly, deliberately, he packed up his things and followed me out of the classroom.

I expected him to walk away, to head toward the parking area or the library or anywhere that wasn’t near me. Instead, he stopped just at the end of the hallway and looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read.

“Are you mad?” I asked, because I needed to know where we stood.

“Disappointed,” he said simply.

His honesty shouldn’t have surprised me—Milo had always been painfully direct—but it still felt like a punch to the chest. I’d hoped for disappointment that had cooled overnight, for some indication that he was ready to work through this.

Instead, I got confirmation that the hurt was still fresh, still raw.

“I’m sorry,” I said, the words feeling inadequate but necessary. “I know what I did was wrong. I know I violated your trust and I know there’s no excuse for that. But I felt like I was going insane trying to think about answers to questions I couldn’t even ask.”

Milo was quiet for a long moment, studying my face with that intense attention that had always made me feel seen. Then, unexpectedly, he reached up and touched my cheek, his thumb tracing gently under my eye.

“You cried,” he said softly. It wasn’t a question.

The gentleness in his touch, the concern in his voice despite his anger, almost undid me completely. “You didn’t even text me,” I whispered. “Hindi mo man lang inalam kung nakauwi na ako.”

“I know you got home,” he said, his hand still cupping my face.

I looked at him in confusion. “How did you know?”

“I texted Sage.”

“Sage?” The revelation caught me off guard. “Kailan pa kayo naging magka-text?”

Milo didn’t answer the question directly, which I was starting to recognize as typical for him when it came to anything that might reveal too much about his feelings. Instead, he dropped his hand from my face and asked, “What happened with your dad?”

The shift in topic made my chest tighten. The last thing I wanted was to discuss my father with Milo, to bring up the man whose actions had caused so much pain between us. It felt like touching a sore spot, like deliberately pressing on a bruise.

“It’s fine,” I said, though we both knew it wasn’t.

“Saffron—”

“It’s fine,” I repeated more firmly.

Milo studied my face for another moment, then sighed. “You know why I didn’t tell you about this, right? This—” he gestured between us “—is exactly what I was trying to avoid.”

The words hit harder than I’d expected. “What do you mean?”

“I know how close you are with your father. I’ve seen the way you talk about him, the way you look up to him. I was trying to find a way to be okay with everything before I had to watch you process the truth about him.”

The realization that he’d been protecting me—trying to shield me from the pain of learning who my father really was—made me feel somehow worse instead of better. How could he be so considerate when he had every right to hate me? How could he worry about my feelings when his own family had been destroyed?

“As I got older,” Milo continued, his voice careful and measured, “especially after I became a paralegal, started law school, I began to understand how complicated things can be. Legally, I mean. I started to see the gray areas, the ways that someone can follow the law while still causing tremendous harm.”

I wanted to interrupt, to defend my father or apologize for him or somehow bridge the gap between Milo’s pain and my own confusion. But something in his expression told me to stay quiet, to let him say what he needed to say.

“But understanding it intellectually and being okay with it emotionally are different things,” he said. “I can acknowledge that your father probably believed he was doing his job, that he was representing his clients’ interests within the bounds of the law. But I’m also my mother’s son. And no matter how much I understand about legal technicalities and complex cases, that woman was my mother. And she’s dead because of what he did.”

The stark simplicity of the statement made my eyes fill with tears. There was no anger in his voice, no accusation. Just fact, delivered with the kind of painful honesty that made it impossible to argue or deflect.

“When I was growing up,” Milo continued, “my mother would smoke on the balcony of whatever apartment we were living in, and she’d tell me stories about the life she could have given me. About the house we used to live in, the schools I could have attended, the opportunities that had been taken away from me.”

I watched as he unconsciously reached for the cigarettes in his pocket, his fingers tracing the outline of the pack through the fabric.

“She’d smoke and talk about her regrets—how she couldn’t give me the future she’d planned, how she’d failed to protect what should have been mine. And after she died, when I needed to feel close to her memory, I started smoking too. Because that was my strongest memory of her—the way she’d hold a cigarette between her fingers and tell me with fondness and regret about the life we should have had.”

The image he painted was devastating—a young boy listening to his mother’s regrets, growing up with the weight of a stolen future, finding connection to her memory through the very habit that symbolized her pain.

“Milo,” I whispered, reaching for him.

But he stepped back slightly, maintaining the careful distance between us. “This isn’t something you can fix, Saffron. This isn’t a problem we can solve together or work through with enough communication and good intentions.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that this is my issue to process; my feelings to work through. And I need you to let me do that on my own, without trying to help or fix or make it better.”

The words felt like a door closing between us. “So what does that mean for us?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I love you. I do love you, and that’s not going to change. But loving you feels complicated right now, and I need time to figure out how to reconcile that.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know that either.”

I stared at him, this person I’d thought I knew completely, realizing that I was seeing him clearly for the first time. Not just as my boyfriend, not just as the brilliant law student who challenged me academically and made me laugh and held me when I was stressed. But as Milo Delgado—son of his mother, survivor of a tragedy, someone who’d been carrying this impossible burden while trying to love the daughter of the man who’d caused it.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, though the words felt completely inadequate.

“I know you are. And I’m sorry, too. For not telling you sooner, for letting you find out the way you did, for not being ready to handle this better.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for—”

“I do. Because I’ve been unfair to you, too. I should have told you who I was from the beginning, should have given you the choice about whether you wanted to be involved with someone carrying this kind of baggage. Instead, I let you fall in love with me while hiding the most important thing about my life.”

The honesty in his admission made my chest ache. Even now, even while processing his own pain, he was thinking about how his choices had affected me. How could someone be so generous, so thoughtful, when they had every reason to be bitter and angry?

“I don’t regret falling in love with you,” I said firmly. “Whatever else happens, I don’t regret that.”

Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, or gratitude. “I don’t regret it either. That’s what makes this so complicated.”

We stood there in the hallway as other students moved around us, both of us trying to figure out how to navigate this impossible situation. I wanted to reach for him, to bridge the physical distance between us the way we’d always done when words weren’t enough. But I could see the careful control in his posture, the way he was holding himself together through sheer willpower, and I didn’t want to be the thing that made him fall apart.

“I should go,” I said because the conversation felt too big for a hallway between classes, too complex for stolen moments between academic obligations.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “Me, too.”

But neither of us moved. We stood there looking at each other, both of us trying to memorize this moment—whatever it was, whatever it meant. Because we both understood that something had changed between us, and neither of us knew what came next.

“Saffron,” he said as I finally turned to leave.

I stopped.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you know. I’m tired of carrying it alone.”

The admission broke something loose in my chest. “You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

“Maybe. But I need to figure out how to carry it differently first.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I understood what he meant. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

As I walked toward the parking lot, I felt the weight of everything that had happened settling over me like a heavy blanket. The exhaustion I felt wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, spiritual, the kind of bone-deep tiredness that comes from having your entire understanding of your life turned upside down in the span of twenty-four hours.

I sat in my car for several minutes before starting the engine, trying to summon the energy to drive home and face whatever conversations were waiting for me there. But mostly, I just felt empty. Drained by the effort of trying to hold everything together, trying to figure out how to move forward when every step seemed to lead to more pain.

The girl who’d woken up yesterday morning thinking she understood her life was gone. In her place was someone who knew that truth was complicated, that love wasn’t always enough, and that some wounds were too deep to heal with good intentions and hopeful hearts.

And I had no idea who that person was supposed to be.

This story is already at Chapter 48 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 36

The exhaustion was bone-deep by now. I could feel it in the way my shoulders hunched forward as we walked, in the careful way Milo and I navigated conversations that used to flow naturally, in the deliberate effort it took to smile at each other when everything felt like it required so much work.

Kakatapos lang ng klase namin… and normally, this would be when we’d grab dinner somewhere quiet and spend the rest of the evening studying together, but nothing had been normal since that night when everything exploded.

It had been almost two weeks since our fight, since the world shifted beneath our feet. Two weeks of trying to find our footing again, of attempting to rebuild something that felt sustainable.

We were both trying so hard, maybe too hard, to prove that we could work through this.

“Saffron,” Milo said as we approached the parking area, his voice carrying that careful tone he’d been using lately. Not cold, but measured. Like he was weighing every word before he spoke it—na para bang ayaw niya akong masaktan sa mga salita niya. Because we both knew how words could hurt. “We should talk about this.”

I stopped walking, turning to face him. The post lights were casting shadows and in that soft illumination, I could see the tiredness etched into his features. The dark circles under his eyes that matched mine, the way he held his shoulders like he was carrying something heavy.

“I know,” I said, and I meant it. I’d been wanting to have this conversation for days, but also dreading it. Because talking about it meant acknowledging how hard everything had become, how much effort it was taking to love each other through this.

“I keep thinking about what you said the other day,” he continued, setting his bag down on a nearby bench and gesturing for me to sit. “About how you felt like you were going insane trying to find answers to questions you couldn’t ask.”

I settled beside him, maintaining the careful distance we’d unconsciously started keeping—close enough to talk privately, far enough apart that we weren’t constantly reminded of the physical intimacy we’d lost. “I know it wasn’t fair to you. Going through your things, violating your privacy like that,” I quietly admitted.

“That’s not what I mean.” Milo ran his hands through his hair, a gesture I recognized as him trying to organize his thoughts. “I… understand why you did it. And I hate that I put you in a position where you felt like you had to.”

The admission surprised me. I’d been expecting another conversation about boundaries and trust, not this.

“You didn’t put me anywhere, Milo. I made that choice.”

“But I created the circumstances that led to that choice.” He looked at me then, really looked at me, and I saw something in his expression that I hadn’t seen in weeks—the unguarded openness that had made me fall in love with him. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. About how unfair I’ve been to you.”

“You haven’t been—”

“I have.” His voice was firm but not harsh. “I let you build your understanding of our relationship on incomplete information. And then when you found out the truth, I acted like you were the one who’d done something wrong.”

I felt tears pricking at my eyes, not from sadness but from relief. This was the first time since everything happened that he’d acknowledged his own role in the situation, that he’d admitted the impossible position he’d put me in.

“I love you,” he continued, and the words came out with more certainty than he’d spoken anything in weeks. “I love you so much that it sometimes feels like it’s going to tear me apart. And that’s exactly why this is so hard.”

“What do you mean?”

Milo was quiet for a moment, staring at his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more vulnerable. “When I first recognized your name, nung narinig kong sinabi mo ’yung pangalan mo nung enrollment, nung na-realize ko kung sino ka, I told myself I could handle it. After all, it’s been years… I didn’t want to live every day of my life just stewing in hate.”

I wanted to reach for him, to close the physical distance between us, but something in his posture told me he needed to say this without distraction.

“But it’s not that simple,” he said. “Every time you talk about your father—every time you mention family dinners or quote something he said or smile that particular way you smile when you’re proud of him—there’s this moment where I forget. Where I just see you, the girl I love, talking about someone who matters to you. And then I remember, and it’s like getting punched in the chest all over again.”

The pain in his voice was almost unbearable. “Milo—”

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty,” he said quickly. “I’m telling you this because I need you to understand that this isn’t about you. It’s not about whether I trust you or whether I think you’re worth fighting for. It’s about me trying to figure out how to love you without feeling like I’m betraying my memories.”

The way he said it—with such raw honesty, such devastating vulnerability—made my chest tight with emotion. This was Milo as I’d never seen him before, completely stripped of the careful control he usually maintained.

“I understand,” I whispered. “I do understand. And I’m not asking you to be okay with this overnight. I just… I need to know that you’re willing to try. That you want to find a way to make this work.”

“Of course I want to make this work.” The answer came immediately, without hesitation. “Saffron, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the only good thing that’s come out of the last few years. But wanting something and being able to achieve it aren’t the same thing.”

I looked at him with fear in my eyes.

“I wish I could give you a timeline, but I can’t. All I can tell you is that I’m going to try. Every day, I’m going to try to find a way to be with you that doesn’t make me feel like I’m drowning.”

The honesty of it, the complete lack of false reassurance, was both heartbreaking and somehow comforting. He wasn’t making promises he couldn’t keep or pretending this would be easier than it was.

“And in the meantime?” I asked.

“In the meantime, we take it one day at a time. We keep talking, keep being honest with each other, keep trying to build something that can survive this.”

I felt some of the tension I’d been carrying for weeks start to loosen. Not disappear—the problem was still there, still as complicated as ever—but the feeling that we were finally addressing it honestly instead of trying to pretend our way through it.

“I love you, too,” I said, and the words felt more real than they had in days. “I love you enough to wait while you figure this out. I love you enough to have difficult conversations instead of pretending everything’s fine.”

“Good,” he said, and for the first time in weeks, he smiled at me—a real smile, small but genuine. “Because I think we’re going to have a lot of difficult conversations.”

I was about to respond when the sound of a car door slamming made both of us look up. Across the parking lot, I saw a familiar figure getting out of a black SUV, and my stomach immediately dropped.

“Oh, no,” I breathed.

Milo followed my gaze, and I watched his entire body tense as he recognized my father walking purposefully toward us.

“Saffron.” Dad’s voice carried across the parking lot, and I could hear the carefully controlled tone that meant he was nervous but trying not to show it.

I stood up quickly, my mind racing. This was literally the worst possible timing. Milo and I had just started to find our footing again, just begun to have the kind of honest conversation we needed, and now—

“Hi, Dad,” I called back, hoping my voice sounded more casual than I felt.

As he got closer, I could see the careful way he was watching Milo, the slight tension in his shoulders that meant he was preparing for something difficult. When he reached us, he stopped a careful distance away, like he was giving us space to decide how this would go.

Fuck.

I wanted them to meet… but not like this.

“Di kita naabutan kanina sa bahay,” Dad carefully said. The past weeks, maaga akong umaalis sa bahay… Hindi ako masyadong pumupunta kay Milo… But also, I couldn’t stay at home. It was conflicting. “Itatanong ko lang sana kung free ka para magdinner,” he said, addressing me but keeping Milo in his peripheral vision.

I glanced at Milo, who had gone completely still beside me, his expression carefully neutral, but I felt how uncomfortable he was.

“Dad, this isn’t really a good time—”

“You must be Milo,” Dad said, turning to face him directly, finally recognizing his existence.

And I watched something flicker across my father’s face. He knew. Of course he knew. We’d just had that argument about the Delgado case days ago. He’d recognized the name immediately.

“Sir,” Milo replied, his voice carefully respectful. “Milo Delgado.”

I watched Dad’s face for any visible reaction to the surname, but his legal background served him well. His expression remained politely interested, though I could see the slight tightening around his eyes.

“Iñigo Borromeo,” Dad said, extending his hand. “I’m Saffron’s father.”

Milo shook his hand, and I could see the effort it cost him—being polite to the man who had destroyed his family, maintaining composure when every instinct was probably screaming at him to walk away.

“Sana wala pa kayong plano,” Dad continued, glancing between us. “Kung wala pa, gusto niyong magdinner tayong tatlo?”

The invitation hung in the air like a challenge. I could see Milo’s internal struggle, could practically feel the war happening inside him. Every fiber of his being probably wanted to refuse, to avoid spending an evening in close quarters with Iñigo Borromeo. But he also knew that refusing would hurt me, would make things even more complicated between us.

“Okay po,” Milo said finally.

The lie was so smoothly delivered that if I hadn’t known him as well as I did, I might have believed it myself.

---

The restaurant Dad chose was upscale but not ostentatious—the kind of place where I knew Tito Yago often took clients for important conversations. As we were seated at a corner table with white tablecloths and low lighting, I felt like I was watching a carefully choreographed performance.

Dad was being the perfect host—asking Milo about his academic interests, his plans after graduation, his thoughts on various legal developments. Milo was responding with polite interest, giving thoughtful answers while revealing absolutely nothing personal about himself. And I was sitting between them, hyperaware of every pause, every careful word choice, every moment of tension that neither of them acknowledged.

I was sick of the surface politeness.

Gusto ko ng matapos ’to.

The conversation continued in this vein for several minutes—both of them performing civility while I sat there feeling like a live wire.

Then, about halfway through our dinner, something shifted.

Dad set down his fork and looked directly at Milo, his expression becoming more serious. “Milo, I owe you an apology.”

The words dropped into the conversation like a stone into still water. Milo went completely still, and I felt my own heart stop.

“Sir?” Milo’s voice was carefully controlled, but I could hear the edge underneath.

“Sa nangyari sa pamilya mo dati.” Dad’s voice was steady, professional, but I could see the cost of the words in the way his hands gripped his napkin. “I know this must be… difficult for you.”

I stared at my father in shock. Just days ago, he’d been defending his actions, insisting he’d done nothing wrong, hiding behind legal technicalities. Now he was sitting here apologizing?

“Dad,” I started, but he held up a hand.

“Please, let me finish.” Dad turned back to Milo. “I was young, ambitious. I told myself I was just doing my job, representing my clients’ interests within the bounds of the law. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about the… human cost of that case. And I’m sorry for the pain it caused you and your family.”

The silence that followed was deafening. I could see Milo processing this unexpected apology, trying to figure out how to respond to something he’d probably never expected to hear.

“I know legal cases are complicated. There are always multiple perspectives,” Milo replied like it was rehearsed… na para bang paulit-ulit niyang sinasabi sa sarili niya hanggang sa makabisado niya na.

“There are,” Dad agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t regret the harm that was done, even if it was legally justified.”

I watched this exchange with growing confusion and something that might have been hope. This was not the man who’d argued with me in his study, who’d defended his actions and refused to acknowledge any wrongdoing. This was someone who seemed genuinely remorseful, genuinely interested in making amends.

But why now? What had changed?

The rest of dinner passed in careful conversation. To an outside observer, it might have looked like a normal dinner between a father and his daughter’s boyfriend, but I could see the effort it was costing both of them.

And underneath it all, I could feel the weight of everything that wasn’t being said. The full extent of what the case had cost Milo’s family. The years of anger and grief he’d carried. The impossible position this put all of us in.

When dinner finally ended, we walked out to the parking lot together, the evening air cool against my skin. Dad lingered beside his car, clearly wanting to say something more but not sure how.

“Thank you for dinner, sir,” Milo said politely.

Dad gave him a small nod… and then he looked at me. I waited for him to say something, but whatever it was that he wanted to say got lost in the moment.

But I knew that there was something in his expression—a vulnerability I wasn’t used to seeing from him, a genuine desire to repair what had been broken between us.

After Dad drove away, Milo and I stood in the parking lot. Milo was quiet for a long moment, staring at the spot where Dad’s car had been.

“Your father loves you very much, Saffron. That was obvious tonight.”

“I know,” tahimik kong sagot. “He loves all of us.”

I never once doubted that my father loves us… that’s why this was so hard for me.

“You should go home,” Milo said suddenly. “Talk to him.”

The suggestion caught me off guard. “What about us? I thought we were going to your apartment.”

“Magkikita naman tayo bukas,” sabi niya.

“Nakita ko na sila buong linggo,” I told him. “Can’t I just go to your apartment?”

“Tomorrow,” he said. “You can stay over tomorrow.”

There was something in his tone that made my chest tighten with anxiety. Something final, like he was saying goodbye instead of goodnight.

He reached out and touched my face, his thumb tracing across my cheek in that familiar gesture that always made my heart race. I wanted to argue, wanted to insist that tonight, I belonged with him, not with my family. But something in his expression stopped me. There was a sadness there, a resignation that I didn’t understand but that scared me.

“Okay,” I said finally. “But we’ll talk tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

As I drove home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something important. The evening had gone better than I’d dared to hope—Dad had apologized, Milo had been gracious, no one had stormed out or said anything unforgivable. So why did I feel like something was ending instead of beginning?

---

When I pulled into our driveway, I was surprised to see lights still on throughout the house. Normally by this time, Dad would be in his study grading papers or preparing for the next day’s cases, and Mom would be reading in bed.

Instead, I found the living room empty, the kitchen clean but unused. I called out but got no response, which made me curious enough to go looking.

I found them in the garden.

Dad was sitting on the small stone bench that overlooked Mom’s roses, and for the first time in my life, I saw him smoking. His hands were shaking slightly as he brought the cigarette to his lips, and even from a distance, I could see the tension in his shoulders.

Mom was sitting beside him, closer than usual, and Dad’s head was resting on her shoulder in a gesture of vulnerability I’d rarely seen from him. They were talking quietly, their voices too low for me to make out words, but I could hear the exhaustion in their tones.

I stood in the doorway, uncertain whether I should interrupt or leave them to their private moment. But as I watched, fragments of their conversation drifted to me on the evening air.

“Di ko alam kung paano ’to aayusin, Cha,” Dad was saying, his voice rougher than usual. “Hindi pa rin ako kinakausap ni Saffron.”

“Just give it time,” Mom simply replied.

“It’s been two weeks, Cha.”

“Then two more weeks.”

“Cha—”

“You know how Saffron looks up to you—kaya nga siya nasa law school. She’s just taking things in. Babalik din sa dati lahat.”

Dad took another shaky drag from his cigarette. “Ang hirap makita ’yung disappointment sa mukha niya, Cha. Kahit kanina sa dinner… kung wala lang siguro si Milo, iniwan na ako ni Saffron sa parking lot.”

“You were doing your job—”

“We both know that wasn’t true,” Dad interrupted. “Maybe legally, but I still destroyed lives. And she knows it now.”

The pain in his voice was devastating. This was my father—the strongest person I knew, the man who’d always seemed unshakeable—falling apart because he thought he’d lost me.

“You already said your apologies, Iñigo. All we can do is wait.”

I felt tears starting to gather in my eyes. This was what my choice to be with Milo was costing—not just Milo’s peace of mind, but my father’s as well. I was watching him break apart from guilt and regret, and I knew that my relationship with Milo was making it worse.

“I don’t deserve her forgiveness,” Dad continued. “But I need it. God, Cha, I need it.”

I backed away from the doorway quietly, not wanting to intrude on their private pain. But as I climbed the stairs to my room, I felt the weight of an impossible choice settling over me like a heavy blanket.

I could choose Milo, and continue to watch my father destroy himself with guilt and regret. I could choose my family, and lose the person who’d become the most important part of my world. But I couldn’t choose both without asking one of them to carry a burden that might break them.

Maybe loving someone sometimes meant making choices that felt impossible. That wanting to be with Milo and wanting to protect my family weren’t necessarily compatible goals, no matter how much I wished they could be.

The tiredness I’d been feeling for weeks was more than physical exhaustion—it was the bone-deep weariness of fighting a battle that might not have a winning side.

Of loving people whose wounds were too deep for good intentions to heal.

This story is already at Chapter 49 at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 37

Home didn’t feel like home anymore.

I sat at our kitchen table, staring at my book that I really needed to read but not really seeing the words. The house was quiet except for the sound of Mom moving around upstairs and the distant murmur of Dad’s voice from his study—probably on a work call… o kausap si Tita Gracey. Normal sounds of our normal family life, but nothing felt normal to me anymore.

Three days had passed since the dinner with Dad and Milo. Three days of carefully polite “good mornings” and “how was school” conversations with my parents, three days of avoiding any mention of Milo or the case or the complicated mess our family had become.

Three days of pretending everything was fine when I felt like I was drowning.

The worst part was the guilt.

Every time I looked at Dad, I saw the man from the garden—broken, vulnerable, smoking with shaking hands because he thought he’d lost me. But I also saw the lawyer who had destroyed Milo’s family, who had built his career on others’ suffering. Both versions of him existed in the same space, and I didn’t know how to reconcile them.

And then there was Sage.

My twin brother had been watching me with increasing concern, asking questions that I deflected with increasingly elaborate lies. He knew something was wrong—we’d always been able to read each other—but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. How do you explain to someone that your father, their hero, had done something that led to someone’s death? How do you destroy someone’s faith in their family just because yours had been shattered?

So I carried the secret alone, and it felt like it was eating me alive.

I was tired.

Pagod na pagod na ako.

Mom appeared in the kitchen doorway, already dressed for work in one of her usual work attire. Had this been different, I’d probably crack a joke… Na marami kaming mamanahin nila Ate Lily and Sage dahil wala namang ginagastos siya para sa sarili niya. I’d always seen my mom in her usual black blazer and pantsuit.

But the atmosphere felt tensed.

Mom stopped walking and stood beside me. She looked at me as I was hunched over my book, my highlighters scattered across the table in disorganized chaos—so different from my usual color-coded system.

“You’re up early,” she observed, pouring herself coffee. “Akala ko sa library ka mag-aaral.”

“Just wanted to get a head start on studying. Second year is beating my ass,” I said, forcing my voice to sound casual.

Mom nodded, but I could feel her studying my profile, the weight of unasked questions hanging between us. I knew she wanted to ask about what was happening—about the tension with Dad, about why I’d been so distant, about the boyfriend who’d caused such a shift in our family dynamics. But I also understood why she hesitated.

This had to be impossible for her, too. She was watching her husband suffer from guilt and regret, watching her daughter pull away from the family, caught in the middle of a conflict she hadn’t created but couldn’t fix. If she loved Dad the way I loved Milo—with that deep, complicated devotion that survives even when you learn difficult truths about someone—then she was living her own version of my struggle. Torn between supporting the man she’d chosen to build a life with and comforting the daughter who was drowning in disappointment and confusion.

I wondered if she lay awake at night the way I did, trying to figure out how to love people whose actions had caused so much pain. Trying to reconcile the person she’d married with the lawyer who’d destroyed a family, the same way I was trying to reconcile my love for Milo with the weight of being Iñigo Borromeo’s daughter.

“Everything’s fine,” I responded to her unasked question, but the words felt hollow in the space between us.

She was quiet for a moment, and I could sense her weighing whether to push or let it go.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you later for dinner.”

After she left, the house felt even more oppressive. I tried to focus on my reading, but the words kept blurring together. Legal jargons that should have been second nature to me felt foreign, complicated. I found myself reading the same paragraph three times without retaining anything.

My phone buzzed with a text from Milo.

‘On my way to work.’

I stared at the message for a long moment before typing back.

‘Okay. I’m on my way to school na rin.’

‘Take care. Will see you later.’

The brevity of our exchanges had become another source of anxiety. We used to text constantly—long conversations about cases, random observations, silly jokes. Now our messages felt careful, purposeful, stripped of the easy intimacy we’d once shared.

I gathered my things and headed for campus, grateful to escape the suffocating atmosphere of home.

---

The library was bustling with students preparing for upcoming exams, but I found a quiet corner and spread out my study materials.

I really tried to study, but today felt like one of those days when nothing right goes your way. Wala akong maintindihan sa binabasa ko. I felt like I was wasting my time. I couldn’t retain anything.

“Rough morning?”

I looked up to find Rica settling into the chair across from me, her own study materials in hand.

“Something like that,” I said, grateful for the distraction.

“Everything okay?”

The question was innocent enough, but it made me realize how much I’d been isolating myself from our usual study group. Rica, Sheena, James—all the blockmates I’d grown close to over the past year and a half. I’d been so consumed with my own drama that I’d barely noticed I was pulling away from everyone else.

“Just stressed about exams. It’s true what they said na super hirap ng second year,” I said, the lie coming easier with practice.

Rica nodded, but I could see the concern in her eyes. “Well, if you need anything…”

“I know. Thanks.”

We studied in comfortable silence for a while, but I could feel my concentration slipping again. The words on my laptop screen might as well have been in a foreign language. I found myself staring out the window, watching students walk across the school, letting my mind drift to anything except what I was supposed to be studying.

When my phone rang at exactly 5PM, I was almost relieved for the excuse to pack up my things.

---

Alam ko na pupuntahan ako ni Milo sa library, but I just needed to find any excuse para lumabas na ako doon. I wasn’t able to study anything… but I couldn’t leave. I felt like I would betray myself more kung lalabas ako without trying to review some more. Pero wala akong maintindihan.

Immediately, I found Milo in our usual spot near the back of the library. Naka-upo siya sa may bench. His bag was still slung over his shoulder na para bang naupo lang siya sandali—like he just needed a second to himself to have some peace and quiet.

I wanted to give him peace and quiet because I knew I needed those, too, but he probably felt my presence. He looked towards my direction.

“You look tired,” he stated nang makita niya ako nang malapitan.

“Ikaw din.”

We were walking towards our classroom. We were talking about the topic for our recitation and I was asking him to discuss one of the cases to me dahil hindi ko siya naintindihan kanina—not for the lack of trying—when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his expression immediately darkened.

“Sorry, I need to take this,” he said, but his voice was tight with annoyance.

He took a few steps away from me. I tried to give him space, but with everything that’s happening lately, I didn’t even know how I could give him that. Our relationship felt so fragile—like we were one more secret away from breaking.

Even from a distance, I could hear fragments of the conversation. His voice was low but firm, carrying the edge of barely controlled anger.

“I already told you, I don’t need your help.”

A pause.

“No, I don’t care. Paulit-ulit na lang tayo.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“I heard you before.”

I felt my stomach clench. For some reason, I knew that this was about his mother, about his family. And about people who had abandoned him when he needed them most and were now trying to assuage their guilt.

“I said no. ’Wag niyo na akong tawagan.”

He ended the call abruptly and stood there for a moment with his back to me, his shoulders rising and falling with deep breaths. When he finally returned, his expression was carefully controlled, but I could see the storm brewing underneath.

“Sorry about that,” he said, settling back into his place beside me.

“Was that…?” I started to ask, then stopped myself. We’d been so careful about boundaries lately, so cautious about pushing each other into conversations we weren’t ready for.

But something in his expression told me he was tired of pretending, too.

“Si Tita,” he said finally. “Paulit-ulit na tumatawag. Tinatanong ako kung may kailangan ba ako sa school, sa apartment, kung gusto ko bang tumira sa isa sa mga condo nila dito sa Manila.”

I stayed quiet, sensing there was more.

“They all disappeared when she lost the case,” Milo continued, his voice carefully level. “When she needed support, when we needed help rebuilding our lives, they were nowhere to be found. But now that she’s dead, now that I’m doing well in law school, suddenly they want to be family again.”

“Maybe they—”

“Maybe they what? Maybe they’re genuinely sorry?” He scoffed. “They’re not sorry about what happened to her. They’re sorry about how it looks now, sorry that they have to live with the guilt of abandoning her when she needed them most.”

I watched him struggle with emotions that went far deeper than anything he’d shared with me before. This wasn’t just about his mother’s death or the lost inheritance—this was about a pattern of abandonment, of people who called themselves family but disappeared when things got difficult.

“They keep saying they want to help, that they want to make things right. But you can’t make things right after someone’s dead. You can’t pay for my law school and pretend that erases the years she struggled alone.”

The pain in his voice was raw, unguarded. “She used to talk about them sometimes, especially toward the end. She’d wonder where they were, why nobody called anymore. She died thinking her everyone had abandoned her—kasi ganon naman, ’di ba? Nakaka-alala lang sila kapag may pera ka.”

“Milo…” I whispered, reaching for his hand.

“I don’t want their guilt money,” he said firmly. “I don’t want them to feel better about themselves by throwing money at me now. They need to be accountable for what they did, not just try to buy their way out of the guilt.”

I squeezed his hand, not knowing what to say. The depth of his hurt was staggering—not just the loss of his family’s wealth or his mother’s death, but the betrayal by people who should have stood by them. The knowledge that his mother had died feeling completely alone.

And suddenly, with devastating clarity, I understood something I’d been trying not to acknowledge.

This wasn’t just about my father’s role in the case. This was about Milo’s fundamental understanding of family, loyalty, abandonment. This was about wounds that ran so deep that no amount of love or good intentions could heal them completely.

He could tell me all he wanted that he didn’t blame me, that he didn’t blame my father, that he was working through his feelings. But deep inside, in a place that maybe even he didn’t want to acknowledge, a part of him would never be fully okay with my connection to the man who had destroyed his family.

And knowing that was killing me.

---

That evening, I found Sage in his room. I learned better than to stand in front of his computer dahil baka mapasama na naman ako sa livestream niya. I knocked on his doorframe and he looked towards my direction, immediately closing whatever he’d been working on.

“Bakit?” he asked, gesturing for me to come in.

I sat on the edge of his bed, suddenly unsure how to phrase what I wanted to ask. “Hypothetically,” I started, then stopped.

Sage raised an eyebrow. “Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically, would it be possible for someone to stay at your condo for a while?”

“Someone?”

“Me.”

He sat up straighter, his expression shifting from casual interest to concern. “Why would you want to stay at my condo?”

“Just… hypothetically.”

Mas lalong lumalim iyong kunot sa noo niya. “What’s happening?” he asked, finally, outright. I could hear the worry in his voice, the frustration of being shut out of something he knew was important. Part of me wanted to tell him everything—about Dad, about Milo, about the impossible situation I’d found myself in. But I couldn’t bear the thought of watching his faith in our father crumble the way mine had.

“I just need some space,” I said finally. “Ang hirap mag-aral dito. Ang daming distraction.”

“Distraction? Sa kwarto ka lang naman nag-aaral. Lock the door and put some noise-cancelling headphones.”

When I didn’t say anything to his smart-ass suggestion, Sage got up from his seat and sat next to me.

“Whatever’s going, hiding from it isn’t going to fix it,” he said like he wanted me to know that he knew what was going on. “Distance is just going to make everything worse.”

“Maybe distance is what’s needed right now,” I replied, hearing the exhaustion in my own voice.

“Says who?”

I looked at my twin brother—my other half, the person who’d known me longer than anyone else in the world—and felt the weight of everything I couldn’t tell him.

“I can’t focus on anything with everything that’s happening,” I admitted. “My grades are slipping, I can’t study at home, I feel like I’m suffocating here.”

“Then talk to them. Talk to Dad. Whatever fight you had—”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not? You’d always been someone who can just say what’s on her mind.”

I opened my mouth to explain, then closed it again. How do you tell someone that the problem isn’t just a fight that can be resolved with communication? How do you explain that some conflicts don’t have solutions that work for everyone?

“Can you just… not ask questions? Please?”

Sage studied my face for a long moment, and I could see him weighing his options. Finally, he sighed.

“Fine,” sabi niya. “You can stay at the condo, but I think you’re making a mistake.”

“Maybe.”

But I really needed space to breathe.

---

The next day at school, I tried to throw myself into studying again. I found a quiet corner of the library and spread out my materials, determined to catch up on everything I’d been falling behind on.

But it was like my brain had developed some kind of resistance to academic work. I’d read a paragraph of the case and realize ten minutes later that I hadn’t retained a single word. My carefully organized notes looked like chaos, my outlines incomplete and scattered.

I watched other students around me. Everyone else seemed to be managing just fine while I felt like I was drowning in quicksand.

My phone buzzed with a message from Milo.

‘Nasa library ka pa?’

I looked at the time—it was past 5PM already. The entire afternoon had vanished while I’d accomplished virtually nothing.

I packed up my things and met him outside the library, trying to project an energy I didn’t feel. When he saw me approaching, he smiled—a real smile, not the careful ones we’d been exchanging lately.

“How was your afternoon?” he asked, falling into step beside me.

“Productive,” I lied. “You?”

He shrugged. “Studied during lunch break.”

The ease with which he’d managed to focus, to be productive, made me feel even worse about my own struggles. Here he was, dealing with family trauma and financial stress and the complicated mess of our relationship, and he was still managing to excel academically. Meanwhile, I couldn’t even get through a single case without my mind wandering.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and I realized I’d been quiet for too long.

I looked at him—really looked at him. His dark eyes full of concern, the way he was studying my face like he was trying to solve a puzzle. This person who loved me, who was trying so hard to make things work between us despite everything.

Instead of answering his question, I stepped closer and hugged him, burying my face against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me immediately, and for a moment, I let myself pretend that this simple gesture could fix everything that was broken.

“I’m fine,” I said against his shirt. “Pagod lang ako. Sana hindi ako matawag sa recit.”

I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head, and the tenderness of the gesture almost broke me.

“Ano’ng gusto mo sa dinner after class?” he asked when I finally pulled away.

The question was simple, normal, the kind we’d asked each other hundreds of times, but suddenly it felt loaded with complications I couldn’t voice.

“Sa apartment mo? You’ll cook?” I asked instead.

Umiling siya. “Wala akong pagkain don. I was thinking takeout.”

“Oh.” I tried to hide my disappointment. The thought of going to a restaurant, of spending his hard-earned money on me when I knew how much every peso cost him, made my stomach churn with guilt.

“Don na lang sa drive through na madadaanan natin,” he suggested.

We went to class. I felt like my heart was in my throat the entire time. Milo noticed how nervous I was. Nilagay niya iyong notes niya sa may table ko. Napa-tingin ako sa kanya. I tried to give it back to him dahil notes niya ’to, mas kailangan niya ’to, pero nilagay niya lang ulit sa table ko.

Once again, I felt my heart breaking.

How could I hurt someone like him? Someone who just wanted to love me without all these complications?

---

The class ended. I got called—of course I got called. Naka-sagot ako dahil sa notes ni Milo. His notes were very organized. I wanted to make a joke na dahil lagi kaming magkasama, nakuha niya na kung paano ako mag-organize ng notes…

But I had no energy to crack a simple joke.

We got out of the classroom and headed towards the parking lot. Milo offered to drive and I nodded. I stared out the window and tried not to think about the money in his wallet—money he’d earned working long hours at a job he had to take. Every meal he bought me, every coffee, every small gesture of generosity was paid for with money he wouldn’t have needed to earn if not for what my dad had done to his family.

“Ano’ng gusto mo?” he asked as we pulled up to the drive-through.

I studied the menu board, looking for the cheapest options. “Just… whatever’s fine. Maybe just a drink.”

“Ano’ng kinain mo nung lunch?”

“Sandwich,” I lied.

“San mo binili?”

“Outside.”

“San? Masarap? I’ll try.”

I knew he was just trying to corner me into admitting na hindi ako naglunch. I just wasn’t hungry. And I felt like I would be rewarding myself with food kahit na wala naman akong naaral na matino.

But the concern in his voice made me want to crawl out of my own skin. “I’m not really hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. I was watching the person I loved spend money on me that he’d had to earn because of what my father had done to his family. I was lying to everyone I cared about, hiding secrets that were eating me alive. I was failing at law school again because I couldn’t focus on anything except the weight of impossible choices.

As we waited for our order, the pressure that had been building inside me for weeks finally reached a breaking point. The tears came suddenly, violently, and once they started, I couldn’t stop them.

I pressed my hands to my face, trying to muffle the sobs that were tearing out of me, but it was no use. Months of suppressed emotion poured out all at once—the guilt about snooping through his things, the pain of learning the truth about my father, the exhaustion of trying to hold everything together, the crushing realization that love might not be enough to fix what was broken between us.

“Hey, hey,” Milo said softly, reaching for me across the center console. “Saffron, what’s wrong?”

But I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t tell him that I was drowning in guilt every time he spent money on me, that I was lying to my family to protect them from truths they weren’t ready for, that I was failing at everything I’d ever been good at because I couldn’t stop thinking about the impossible situation we were all trapped in.

“I can’t—” I gasped between sobs. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?”

“Any of it. All of it. I don’t know.”

He pulled me closer, and I buried my face against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne. His hand rubbed soothing circles on my back while I cried out weeks of suppressed emotion.

When the employee at the drive-through window tried to hand us our order, Milo quickly got the food, tossed them on the backseat, and pulled into a parking space instead. He turned off the engine and just held me while I fell apart.

“Talk to me,” he said quietly when my sobs had finally subsided into hiccups. “Please? We promised we’ll talk even when it’s hard.”

I pulled back to look at him, taking in his worried expression, the way his dark eyes searched my face for answers I didn’t know how to give.

“I feel like I’m failing at everything,” I whispered. “My grades are slipping, I can’t focus on studying, I’m lying to my family, I feel guilty every time you spend money on me, and I don’t know how to fix any of it.”

“Why do you feel guilty about me spending money on you?”

The question was gentle, but I could hear the confusion underneath. Of course he was confused—I’d never explained the connection my brain was making between his financial struggles and my father’s role in causing them.

“Because you have to work so hard for everything,” I said, not quite able to voice the deeper truth. “And I know you can’t afford—”

“Stop,” he said firmly.

“But it’s true—”

“It’s not about what I can or can’t afford. It’s about me wanting to take care of you. And if you start tallying up every peso I spend on you, it’s going to make me feel like shit about being poor.”

The bluntness of his words made me flinch, but I could see the hurt in his expression. Another way I was failing—even my attempts to be considerate were making things worse.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant. But you need to stop doing that, okay? Stop treating me like I’m too broke to buy my girlfriend dinner.”

I nodded, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. But the guilt was still there, twisted up with all the other emotions I didn’t know how to process.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked after a moment, his voice gentler now.

I looked at him—this person who loved me despite everything, who was trying so hard to make our impossible situation work. I thought about the conversation with Sage, about the condo that could offer me space to breathe. I thought about my parents at home, probably wondering where I was, probably worried about me. I thought about the assignments I wasn’t completing, the cases I couldn’t focus on, the future I was jeopardizing because I couldn’t figure out how to balance love and loyalty and guilt.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I really don’t know.”

And that was the most honest thing I’d said in weeks.

**

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Chapter 38

The conversation I’d been dreading for weeks happened on a Saturday morning over coffee and toast that none of us really wanted to eat.

I sat across from my parents at our kitchen table, the same table where I’d studied for countless exams, where we’d celebrated my law school acceptance, where we’d shared thousands of family meals. Now it felt like foreign territory.

“I want to move out,” I said, the words coming out more abruptly than I’d planned.

Dad’s coffee mug froze halfway to his lips. Mom continued buttering her toast, but I saw her shoulders tense.

“Move out?” Dad repeated, setting down his mug with deliberate care. “Saan?”

“Sa condo ni Sage. Just for a while. I need some space to focus on my studies.”

The lie felt thin in the air between us, but it was easier than explaining the real reasons—that I couldn’t breathe in this house anymore, that every family dinner felt like walking through a minefield, that I was drowning in guilt and confusion and needed distance from everything that reminded me of how complicated my life had become.

Dad was quiet for a long moment, and I watched his face cycle through various emotions—shock, hurt, something that might have been panic. Finally, he seemed to settle on resignation, and I watched him plaster on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Okay,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “Ano’ng plano mo?”

The easy acceptance somehow hurt more than an argument would have. I’d been bracing myself for protests, for questions I couldn’t answer, for the kind of emotional confrontation that had become our new normal. Instead, he was treating this like a practical matter to be discussed calmly.

“I’ve already talked to Sage. He said I can use the condo for as long as I need it.”

“Sa tingin mo ba kaya mo na?” he asked, and I could hear him trying to inject parental concern into his tone. “I mean, si Sage, alam natin na hindi pa kaya mag-isa, pero si Ate mo kaya naman. Pero ikaw—” he paused as if he knew his voice would break kung ipagpapatuloy niya iyong sasabihin niya.

“I’ll figure it out,” I said, though the truth was I’d never lived anywhere except this house. The thought of waking up in an unfamiliar room, of having to navigate daily life without the comfortable routines I’d known my entire life, was terrifying. But it was less terrifying than staying here and watching our family slowly fracture under the weight of secrets and guilt.

“Okay,” Dad said again, and I could see him struggling to find the right words. “Kung ’yan ang gusto mo… we’ll support you.”

The careful politeness of it all was excruciating. Here was my father—the man who’d taught me to ride a bike, who’d helped me with homework, who’d been so proud when I’d gotten into law school—treating me like a polite stranger whose decisions he had no right to question.

“I need to make some calls,” he said finally, standing up from the table with movements that seemed suddenly older, more fragile.

After he left, the kitchen felt even more oppressive. Mom continued eating her toast in silence, and I found myself studying her profile, trying to read whatever she was thinking. Charisse Faith Borromeo had never been an easy person to read—she was controlled, analytical, the kind of lawyer who revealed nothing she didn’t want to reveal.

“Are you disappointed in me?” I asked finally, because the silence was unbearable.

Mom looked up from her plate, studying my face with those sharp eyes that had made opposing counsel nervous for decades. Instead of answering directly, she stood up and carried her dishes to the sink.

“We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” she said, her tone brisk and practical. “Tanungin mo na rin si Sage kung meron bang kailangang bilhin para sa condo.”

It wasn’t the answer I’d been looking for, but it was somehow exactly what I needed—proof that even if she was disappointed, even if she was hurt by my decision, she was still my mother.

---

The next day, moving my things felt like dismantling a life I’d thought was permanent. Dad helped carry boxes to the car with the same careful politeness he’d shown at breakfast, making conversation about traffic and parking as if we were discussing the weather. Mom was just quietly watching the navigation like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Sage drove his own car, loaded with additional supplies Mom had insisted I’d need—extra blankets, a coffee maker (she got me the same model na nasa bahay namin because she knew I always drink coffee in the morning), cleaning supplies that suggested she expected this arrangement to last longer than the “temporary” situation I’d described.

The condo felt different with my family there. Larger, somehow, but also more impersonal.

“Ganito pala itsura nito kapag hindi madumi,” Dad said to Sage as we set down the last of the boxes.

“Hindi naman madumi. Hindi lang ako nakapaghugas ng plato nung pumunta kayo dati,” Sage replied. I rolled my eyes. He’s such a liar. When I told him that I’d be moving here, I forced him to hire a cleaning crew because there’s no way I’d step foot in here after ko makita before. Akala mo petri dish for growing bacteria.

We spent the next hour setting up my room, unpacking clothes and books and the few personal items I’d brought with me. Mom organized everything while Dad and Sage assembled a bookshelf I hadn’t even realized I’d need.

When everything was arranged to Mom’s satisfaction, she surveyed the room with the same critical eye she used to review her cases. “This will do,” she said finally, and I could hear the subtext—this will have to do, because this is what you’ve chosen.

“We should head home,” Dad said, glancing at his watch. “May trabaho pa ako.”

They hugged me goodbye with the kind of careful affection that families use when they’re trying not to acknowledge that something fundamental has changed. Dad held me a beat too long, and I felt him take a deep breath like he was trying to memorize the moment.

“Call us if you need anything,” Mom said as they waited for the elevator.

“I will.”

But we all knew I probably wouldn’t, at least not right away. This separation was about more than just needing space to study, and everyone understood that even if nobody was willing to say it directly.

After they left, Sage and I stood in his living room, surrounded by the boxes and bags that represented my attempt at independence. The silence felt different than the careful politeness of the past few hours—more honest, somehow, but also heavier.

“You sure about this?” he asked for the third time in two days.

“No, but I’m sure I can’t stay there anymore.”

Sage nodded, accepting my answer the way he’d learned to accept most of my decisions over the years—with skepticism but without judgment.

“I’ll stay tonight,” he said. “First night in a new place can be weird.”

I felt a rush of gratitude so intense it almost brought tears to my eyes. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to. Besides, it’s been a while since we had a proper sleepover.”

That evening, we dragged comforters and pillows out to the living room and spread them on the floor in front of the massive windows that overlooked the Manila skyline. It reminded me of when we were kids and would camp out in our bedroom during thunderstorms, staring at the ceiling and talking about everything and nothing until we fell asleep.

“Remember when we used to do this?” Sage said, echoing my thoughts as we lay side by side, looking up at the modern light fixtures instead of the glow-in-the-dark stars we’d stuck to our childhood ceiling.

“Every time there was lightning.”

“You were such a scaredy-cat.”

“I was cautious. There’s a difference.”

We fell into comfortable silence, the kind that only comes with someone who’s known you your entire life. The city lights twinkled beyond the windows, and I found myself thinking about all the other people out there dealing with their own impossible situations, their own complicated choices.

“Is it worth it?” Sage asked finally, his voice quiet in the darkness.

I considered the question seriously. Was it worth disrupting our family, worth the pain I’d seen in Dad’s eyes, worth the careful distance Mom was maintaining to protect herself from whatever this was?

“It’s worth my mental health,” I said finally. “I couldn’t think straight there anymore. I couldn’t focus on anything except all the ways everything was falling apart.”

“Okay,” Sage said simply. “You know I’m always on your side, right? Even when I think you’re making mistakes.”

“Am I making a mistake?”

“Probably. But they’re your mistakes to make.”

The next morning, Sage left early for a sponsorship meeting, and I found myself alone in the condo with nothing but silence and the weight of my own decisions. I made coffee in the expensive machine and sat at the kitchen island, trying to convince myself that this felt like freedom instead of exile.

The days that followed blended into each other in a haze of attempted studying and restless anxiety. I’d wake up in the unfamiliar room, make coffee in Sage’s kitchen, and spread my law books across his dining table. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t focus. The words on the page seemed to float around without meaning, and I found myself reading the same passages over and over.

At school, things weren’t much better. During the class, when Sir asked a question about something I should have known by heart, I found myself stumbling through an answer that barely made sense. The look of confusion on his face was almost worse than outright criticism would have been.

“That will do,” he just said like he gave up on me.

I took my seat and felt my face burn with embarrassment.

After class, Milo caught up with me in the hallway.

“Rough day?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“You could say that.”

“You’ll do better next time.”

I wanted to believe him, but the worried expression in his eyes suggested he was more concerned than he was letting on.

---

The weeks continued like this—me struggling through classes, Milo offering gentle reassurance that felt increasingly hollow, both of us dancing around the growing tension between us. My grades started slipping in smaller ways—class syllabus that I couldn’t follow, case digests that lacked my usual thoroughness, and recit grades that reflected my increasing inability to engage with the material.

And then midterms arrived.

I sat in the room, staring at questions that should have been straightforward. These are the very same concepts I’d mastered just months ago now seemed foreign, and I found myself second-guessing answers I would have written confidently before.

When the results were posted online two weeks later, I stared at my laptop screen in my bedroom, unable to process what I was seeing. I closed the laptop and sat in the silence of Sage’s condo, feeling like I’d been hollowed out from the inside. These weren’t just bad grades—they were proof of how my life was falling apart.

My phone showed several missed calls from blockmates, probably comparing results and celebrating or commiserating together. But I couldn’t bring myself to call anyone back. What was I supposed to say? That the girl who used to set the curve had barely managed to stay above average?

For the next three days, I barely left the condo. I ordered food delivery, ignored texts from concerned blockmates, and spent most of my time staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Manila skyline. Sage tried to check on me a few times, but I pretended to be studying whenever he knocked on my door.

On the third day, my mom appeared at the door with coffee and pastries from my favorite bakery. I’d been expecting this visit since I’d moved out, but it still caught me off guard to see her standing in the hallway, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Of course.”

We sat at Sage’s dining table, the pastries between us like a peace offering.

“May kulang ka pa ba?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. Everything’s here. If wala, I’ll just buy it sa mall.”

I waited for her to explain why she was here, but Charisse Faith Borromeo had never been someone who rushed into difficult conversations. She approached emotional topics the way she approached legal arguments—methodically, with careful consideration of all angles.

“Your father is worried about you,” she said finally.

“I know.”

“He thinks he’s lost you.”

The words hit harder than I’d expected. “He hasn’t lost me. I just needed space.”

“Space from him, specifically.”

I couldn’t deny it, so I stayed quiet.

Mom took a sip of her coffee, studying my face with the same intensity she used to evaluate witnesses. “You’re angry with him.”

“Disappointed.”

“Same thing, in the end.”

We sat in silence for a moment, and I found myself really looking at my mother—at the careful way she held herself, at the controlled expression that revealed nothing she didn’t want to reveal.

“Have you ever been disappointed in Dad?” I asked suddenly.

Something flickered across Mom’s face—surprise, maybe, or recognition. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I need to know if it’s possible to love someone and be disappointed in them at the same time.”

Mom set down her coffee cup with deliberate precision. “Of course it’s possible. Love isn’t blind approval, Saffron. It’s choosing to stay even when someone fails to meet your expectations.”

“But what if they fail in a big way? What if they do something that hurts people?”

“Then you have to decide whether you can live with loving someone who’s capable of causing that kind of harm.”

The way she discussed it made my chest tighten. “Have you had to make that choice?”

Mom was quiet for a long moment, and I could see her weighing her words carefully. “Your father isn’t perfect. I’ve known that since we were in law school together. He’s ambitious, sometimes to a fault. He’s capable of justifying decisions that others might find questionable.”

“The Delgado case.”

“Among others.”

The casual admission that there had been other ethically questionable cases made my stomach drop. How much about my father’s career did I not know?

“But I also know that he loves his family more than anything else in the world. I know that the guilt from his past decisions has shaped every choice he’s made since. I know that he became a judge partly because he wanted to be better than the lawyer he used to be.”

“Does that excuse what he did?”

“No. But it explains it. And sometimes, understanding is more important than forgiveness.”

I stared at my mother, this woman I’d thought I knew completely, and realized she’d been living with her own version of my struggle for decades.

“How do you do it?” I asked. “How do you love someone when you know they’re capable of causing that much harm?”

“By remembering that people are complex. By focusing on who he is now rather than who he was then. By recognizing that my love for him doesn’t require me to approve of every choice he’s ever made.”

After she left, I sat alone in the condo, staring at the untouched pastries on the table. The conversation had left me feeling somehow worse instead of better. If Mom—brilliant, analytical Mom—had found a way to live with her disappointment in Dad, what did that say about my inability to do the same? What did it say about my relationship with Milo?

The weight of her words settled over me like a heavy blanket. She’d made it sound so simple, so mature—loving someone despite their capacity for harm. But I couldn’t shake the image of Milo’s mother, alone and desperate, dying by suicide because of what my father had done. I couldn’t reconcile my love for Milo with the knowledge that every success my family had achieved was built on the ruins of his.

I thought about the grades on my laptop screen, proof of how thoroughly I was failing at everything that used to matter to me. I thought about the careful distance in Milo’s eyes lately, the way we both had to work so hard just to be in the same room together. I thought about the phone calls from his relatives that made him withdraw into himself, the smoking habit that connected him to his mother’s pain, the way he flinched sometimes when I mentioned my father.

And I realized that I couldn’t do what my mother had done. I couldn’t find a way to love someone while carrying the weight of my family’s guilt. I couldn’t ask Milo to keep loving me while I fell apart from the impossibility of it all.

But I also realized that I needed to see him. Not to try to fix anything, not to have another careful conversation about boundaries and processing time. I needed to be with him, maybe for the last time, in a way that felt normal and domestic and like the people we used to be before everything became so complicated.

I grabbed my keys and drove to his apartment, using the spare key he’d given me months ago when things between us were simple and full of possibility. His small kitchen felt like a sanctuary as I moved around it, preparing the ingredients for adobo—his favorite dish, the one his mother used to make that I’d learned to cook by watching YouTube videos. The familiar motions of cooking calmed me in a way that studying no longer could, and for the first time in days, I felt like I was doing something right.

I was stirring the pot when I heard his key in the lock.

“Saffron?” His voice carried surprise and something that sounded like joy. “Ano’ng ginagawa mo dito?”

He appeared in the kitchen doorway, still wearing his work clothes, and the smile on his face was the first genuine one I’d seen from him in weeks.

“I cooked,” I said, gesturing at the stove. “Thought we could have dinner together.”

“Ang bango.” He came closer, peering into the pot. “Nakita mo na ’yung grades mo?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“And you’re cooking to celebrate?” The happiness in his voice made my chest ache. “Congratulations, Saffron. I knew you’d do well.”

I turned away, busying myself with setting the table, unable to meet his eyes.

We sat down to eat, and for a few minutes, it felt like old times. Milo talked about his work, about a complicated case they were handling, about our blockmates and upcoming finals. I listened and responded and tried to pretend that everything was normal.

“Ano’ng gusto mong gawin after ng finals? I already put in my leave para pwede tayong umalis agad Friday night tapos Tuesday na tayo bumalik.”

The question was innocent, casual. The kind of thing we’d discussed dozens of times before. But something about it—the assumption that we’d have another summer break together, that our future was something we could plan for—made something inside me snap.

I set down my utensils carefully. “Milo,” I said quietly.

Something in my tone made him look up sharply, and I watched understanding begin to dawn in his eyes.

“Bakit?” he asked, though I could see he already suspected.

“I got 78 in Property. 83 lang ’yung highest ko.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Milo set down his own fork and studied my face with the kind of careful attention that made me feel completely exposed.

“It’s just midterm exam—”

“You know it’s not only about that.” The words came out harsher than I’d intended. “It’s me not being able to focus, not being able to study, not being able to function like a normal person.”

“Saffron—”

“I can’t do this anymore, Milo.”

The words hung between us like a physical barrier. I watched his face cycle through confusion, understanding, and something that looked like panic.

“Can’t do what?”

“This. Us. Trying to make this work when everything around us is falling apart.”

“Your grades don’t mean—”

“It’s not just about grades.” I was crying now, ugly tears that I couldn’t control. “It’s about the fact that I moved out of my parents’ house because I couldn’t handle being there. It’s about the fact that I can’t study at home and I feel guilty studying here and I can’t focus anywhere because my entire life has become about managing everyone else’s pain.”

Milo was very quiet, and I could see him withdrawing into himself the way he did when he was trying to process something too big to understand all at once.

“So what are you saying?” His voice was carefully controlled.

“I’m saying that loving you is destroying me. And I think loving me is destroying you, too.”

“That’s not—”

“Look at us, Milo. Really look at us. When’s the last time we were happy together? When’s the last time being in the same room didn’t feel like work?”

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. We both knew I was right.

“This isn’t what I want,” I continued, my voice breaking. “I don’t want to break up with you. I don’t want to lose you. But I can’t keep pretending that love is enough to fix what’s broken here.”

“We can work through this—”

“How? How do we work through the fact that your mother is dead because of my father? How do we work through the fact that every time I see disappointment in my dad’s eyes, I remember that you grew up hating him?”

Milo was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear him.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to give up? Ayaw mo na?”

The question carried an edge of something raw and desperate, and I realized this was triggering something deeper for him—all those relatives who had disappeared when his mother needed them, all those people who had chosen the easy path of walking away.

“I’m not giving up on you,” I said firmly. “I’m trying to save us both. I’m trying to save what we had before it turns into something ugly and resentful.”

“You’re leaving me.”

“We’re choosing to let each other go before we destroy each other.”

“That’s the same thing.”

I reached across the table and took his hand, and he let me, though I could feel how tense he was.

“I love you,” I said. “I love you so much that I can’t watch you carry the weight of my family’s guilt anymore. I love you so much that I can’t keep asking you to comfort me while I fall apart over something you never asked to be part of.”

Milo looked at me. “I love you,” was all that he said but somehow it felt like a punch in the gut.

He just… loves me.

He loves me enough to stay.

We sat there as I held his hand across his small table, I was silently crying, both of us understanding that sometimes loving someone means knowing when to let them go.

“What happens now?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Will you hate me?”

“Never.”

I nodded, understanding. “Me, too,” I replied. “But if it’s right, it shouldn’t feel this hard…”

“No, it shouldn’t.”

“And it does feel hard. Every day, it feels like we’re swimming upstream.”

I looked at him one more time, trying to memorize his face, the way he held himself, the careful gentleness in his voice even as I was breaking both our hearts.

“I love you,” I said.

He remained quiet.

“And that’s why we have to do it.”

We finished dinner in silence, and I was trying to engrave the moment in my memory—the taste of the food, the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hand in mine. When I finally got up to leave, Milo walked me to the door.

“Take care of yourself,” he said instead.

I looked at him.

I crossed the distance before he could even take a step back. I hugged him close and buried my face against his chest. I stayed there for a few seconds… but I couldn’t let go—I didn’t want to let go. Letting go somehow felt permanent kahit alam ko na makikita ko pa rin naman siya.

“I love you,” I whispered one more time.

I didn’t expect to hear him say it back but the fact that he didn’t broke something in me. I forced a smile on my face. I asked for this.

“Good night, Milo,” I said instead as I began to walk away.

I drove home through blurry tears, and when I finally made it back to Sage’s condo, I crawled into the bed and cried until I had nothing left. But underneath the grief, there was something else—a tiny seed of relief, the exhausted peace that comes when you finally stop fighting a battle you were never going to win.

---

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Chapter 39

I stayed in bed after the… breakup.

Not because I was physically ill, though my body felt heavy and uncooperative.

Not because I had nowhere to go, though the thought of facing our blockmates who would inevitably ask about Milo made my stomach churn…

Fuck. Kailangan ko nga palang sabihin kila Sheena. They’d notice for sure… And I knew they’d have questions, but I just wasn’t ready to answer them yet. I didn’t even want to face the reality.

So, I stayed in bed because moving felt impossible, because getting up meant acknowledging that my relationship with Milo was really over.

And that I was the one who asked for it to be over.

Napa-tingin ako sa pintuan nang marinig ko na bumukas ’yon. Sage was standing there. I ignored his texts before he finally decided to violate my privacy and pumasok na lang dito sa unit.

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” he said, finding me curled under blankets. I didn’t respond. “Wala ka bang balak umalis sa kama?” I remained quiet.

There’s nothing wrong with Sage’s question… he was just concerned, but addressing that concern meant me telling him about my problem—about the fact that my relationship with Milo was over. I didn’t need to be reminded of the reality.

Sage sat on the edge of the bed and waited. He didn’t offer platitudes or try to fix anything. He just stayed there while I quietly tried to keep everything in.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay nga lang ako,” I said as I tried to kick him off the bed. He didn’t budge at first, so I used what remained of my strength and kicked him again—only this time, I was successful.

“Aray naman!”

I removed the blanket over my head to look at my small victory. “Serves you right. Ang ingay mo. I was sleeping.”

He rolled his eyes as he stood up. “I was just checking kung buhay ka pa.”

“You could’ve texted me and I’ll send you a selfie as proof of life.”

“I did.”

I just rolled my eyes. Right. He did text me, I just didn’t have the energy to reply. I didn’t have the energy to do anything. And with what little energy I had, I’d rather use it for studying. I needed at least one aspect of my life to be okay.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I was just not in the mood.”

Sage sat on the edge of the bed once again.

“Break na kayo?” he just asked.

I remained quiet. I didn’t answer his question, but I didn’t really need to. Sage knew me—sometimes probably better than I knew myself.

“I have a question,” I said. “Did… did you think na magbe-break din kami?” I asked… kasi baka alam niya. Maybe I was just the only one who was blindsided? So I tried to hold on to everything until everything felt too heavy, too much…

Sage just shrugged.

“Come on,” I said.

“Di ko talaga alam,” he replied. “I don’t look at couples and wonder kung kailan sila magbe-break. That’s weird.”

I pouted. “But… did you want us to break up?”

“No.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “You really like him,” he replied. “You even ran away from home for him.”

“I did not!” malakas na sabi ko. “Our parents literally helped me move here! You helped me move!”

“They had no choice— I had no choice.”

“You all could’ve said no. I mean, our parents still give me my allowance.”

“Kung ’di ka pinayagan, e ’di mas lalo mong ’di kinausap si Dad.”

Napa-tingin ako sa kanya. “You knew?” I asked without being specific about my question. He gave a small nod.

“Not the specifics but I do get the gist,” he replied. “And you’re dad’s favorite. Obvious na nag-away kayo.”

“I’m not—and we didn’t fight, okay?”

“Sure.”

I grabbed the pillow and hugged it close to my chest. “Are you disappointed?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Told you—your mistakes to make,” he said.

“Aww.” I scooted over hanggang magkatabi na kami ni Sage. I rested my head against his shoulder. “But seriously… I’ll be fine,” I said… probably to myself. I needed to remind myself that I’ll be fine, that this will be over, too. “I made the right choice—I know I made the right choice, but it still feels like I’m dying.”

Sage was quiet for a moment. “Do you want me to call your friends?”

“No.”

“Ate Lily?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay.”

Twenty minutes later, my phone rang. Ate Lily’s voice was calm and practical.

“Sage said you’re having a mental breakdown.”

“What? I wasn’t,” I replied as I glared at Sage who was now laying in bed.

“Are you okay? Actually okay, not just saying you’re okay.”

I shook my head as I tried to draw a deep breath. “No, I don’t think I am.”

“Okay. I just need to finish a few things here, then I’m picking you up. We’re going away for the weekend.”

“Ate—”

“No arguments. Pack a bag. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere that’s not there.”

She hung up before I could protest further. I stared at my phone, then at Sage who was looking way too pleased with himself.

“You really called Ate?” I asked. I mean, I think I did say na tawagan niya… but I didn’t think that he would. I love Ate Lily and of course I wanted to spend time with her, but I guess iba lang talaga kaming dalawa ni Sage. Must be the twin thing.

“I needed backup. I’m just one person, and you’re…” he gestured at my general state of dishevelment, “…a lot right now.”

Before I could argue, Sage was pulling me out of bed with surprising strength for someone who spent most of his time gaming.

“Shower. Now.”

“I don’t want to shower,” I said, pouting.

“I don’t care what you want. Ate Lily is coming, and you smell like heartbreak and sadness. Ang baho.”

“That’s not a real smell.”

“It is, and it’s terrible. Go.”

He physically pushed me toward the bathroom, and despite my protests, I found myself standing under hot water. The steam felt good against my skin, and I had to admit that Sage was right—I did feel slightly more human afterward.

When I emerged, I saw that Sage pulled out my overnight bag. May mga naka-lagay na don. Inalis ko ’yung iba because what the heck? Did Sage really think na isusuot ko ’to? So mismatched.

“Ano ’yung nilagay mo sa bag?” I asked paglabas ko sa kwarto. Sage was fiddling with his phone. Didn’t he ever get tired of gaming? I couldn’t even imagine Sage having a girlfriend… for sure magseselos ’yon with how frequently he plays. I couldn’t even imagine if Milo—

Right.

Why was I even imagining? Milo and I were over.

“I asked Ate Lily. She sent a list,” biglang sabi ni Sage. Napa-tingin ako sa kanya. I was thankful for the distraction.

“Of course she did.”

I continued preparing even though I still was not fully convinced that leaving the condo was a good idea. The thought of facing the world, of pretending to be functional when I felt like I was barely holding myself together, seemed overwhelming.

But an hour later, when Ate Lily appeared at the door looking determined and armed with coffee, I realized I didn’t have much choice in the matter.

“Ready?” she asked, looking me over with the worried eye of an older sister.

“Not really.”

“Perfect. That means you definitely need this.” She handed me the coffee. “Sage, you carry the bags.”

Sage groaned. “What’s new?

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Secret.”

“Do our parents know?”

“Of course,” Ate Lily replied. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them anything too specific,” she assured me.

“Okay…” I replied weakly.

Ate anchored her arm with mine. “Come on, this will be fun! When was the last time we, three, had an adventure?”

“Right…”

“Besides, you need to go out. You look so pale… and disheveled.”

My forehead creased. “What?” I asked, a bit confused since I looked rather presentable at the moment. “Why did you say that?”

“Sage sent photos.”

I turned to glare at my twin brother. “You took photos of me while I was depressed?”

“Evidence for the intervention,” he said, unrepentant.

“Ugh. You’ll see—makaka-ganti din ako sa ’yo.”

Twenty minutes later, we were on the road in Ate Lily’s car, with Sage relegated to the backseat and a playlist of songs that were definitely chosen to improve my mood. I stared out the window, watching Manila traffic crawl by, still not entirely sure how I’d been convinced to leave my blanket fortress.

“So, where are we going?” I asked as we merged onto the expressway.

“Batangas. I booked us a place for three days.”

“Three days? Ate, I have classes—”

“Holiday,” she said. Right… Fuck. Ni wala na akong sense of time. “Besides, when’s the last time you actually retained anything from class anyway?”

She had a point. “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point then?”

I couldn’t answer that, because I wasn’t sure I knew anymore.

The drive took almost three hours with traffic, but somehow it felt both too long and not long enough. Long enough for my anxiety about being away from the safety of the condo to build, but not long enough to fully process what my siblings were trying to do for me.

When we finally pulled into the resort—a modest collection of cottages near a stretch of white sand—I felt something shift in my chest. Not relief, exactly, but something close to it.

“How did you find this place?” I asked as Sage carried our bags toward the main cottage.

“Internet. Also, Dad mentioned this before. Dito daw kayo nabuo ni Sage.”

Both Sage and I gagged at what she said. “Ew!”

Ate Lily laughed. “Kidding! Just saw this online,” she said and then we followed her. When we’re with Ate Lily, hindi na namin kailangang gumamit ng brain because she’ll do everything.

The cottage was small but comfortable, with two bedrooms and a living area that opened onto a small deck facing the ocean. Sage immediately claimed the room with better air conditioning, leaving Ate Lily and me to share the other room.

“This is nice,” I said, settling onto the couch and looking out at the water.

“Right? It’s perfect,” Ate Lily agreed. “No distractions, no law books, no…” She paused, clearly about to say ‘no Milo’ but catching herself.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You can say his name. He’s not Voldemort.”

“No Milo,” Sage finished from the other room. “Although now that you mention it, he does kind of look like he could be in Slytherin.”

“He does not!” I protested automatically.

“Dark hair, mysterious past, ambitious—”

“That doesn’t make him Slytherin!”

“What house would he be in then?” Ate Lily asked, settling beside me on the couch.

I considered this seriously. “Ravenclaw, obviously. He’s brilliant, and he values knowledge and wit.”

“What about you?” Sage asked, appearing in the doorway.

“Gryffindor. Brave, sometimes to the point of stupidity.”

“Hmm… Agreed,” Ate Lily said. “For me, I always thought I was Hufflepuff.”

“You’re definitely Hufflepuff,” I agreed. “Loyal, hardworking, patient with your disaster siblings.”

“And I’m obviously Slytherin,” Sage announced proudly.

“You’re not ambitious enough to be Slytherin,” I told him. “You’re a muggle—a dirty muggle.”

Sage’s lips parted and we continued bickering while Ate Lily checked the food options for lunch. We spent the rest of the afternoon at the beach, not talking about anything important. Sage attempted for us to play volleyball with a net that looked like it had survived multiple storms. Ate Lily took photos of everything, immediately sending them to our family group chat.

Within minutes, Dad had hearted every single photo.

“Wow,” I said, watching the reactions pile up.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be at a meeting?’ Ate Lily typed in response.

’Wala pa ‘yung ka-meeting ko,’ Dad replied immediately.

‘They’re late? Tsk.’

‘Haha baka na-traffic lang. Enjoy and ingat kayo jan.’

I turned my attention to the ocean. I knew that Dad purposely cut off the conversation. Kung wala kaming problema, I knew he’d even sneak in a quick videocall just to see the three of us together.

“You okay?” Sage asked as he sat beside me. I was sitting on the shore. Ate Lily got inside the cabin to check the dinner options. She really couldn’t relax kaya kami na lang ni Sage ang nagrelax on her behalf.

“Yup.”

We were both quiet.

As the sun started to set, we moved to the small deck, armed with beer that Ate Lily had somehow convinced the resort staff to provide despite their limited amenities. The sky was painted in shades of orange and pink that should have been peaceful but somehow made me feel more melancholic.

“So,” Ate Lily said after we’d been quiet for a while, “tell me about Milo.”

I nearly choked on my beer. “We’re not talking about him.”

“We’re going to eventually. Might as well get it over with.”

“Sage probably already told you everything.”

“Nope. Sage’s stingy with information.”

I glanced at Sage, surprised. “Really? You didn’t tell Ate anything?”

He shrugged, suddenly interested in peeling the label off his beer bottle. “Mukha ba akong chismoso?”

“Duh.”

“So what happened?” Ate Lily asked again.

I took a long sip of beer, trying to figure out how to explain Milo without getting into the complicated history with Dad. “It’s… complicated.”

“Most worthwhile things are.”

“This is different. This is like… really complicated. Like, built-into-the-foundation-of-our-families complicated.”

Ate Lily raised an eyebrow. “That sounds dramatic.”

“It is dramatic. It’s so dramatic it could be a soap opera.”

“Try me.”

I looked at Sage, who nodded encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, I launched into a simplified version of the story—Dad’s role in the case, Milo’s mother’s death, the impossible position it put us both in.

When I finished, Ate Lily was quiet for a long moment.

“That’s…” she started, then stopped.

“Complicated,” I finished.

“Yeah. That’s complicated.”

“See? So, I don’t want anyone to tell me that if we love each other, we should fight for it. Because how do you fight for something when being together hurts both of you?”

“I don’t know,” Ate Lily said honestly. “But I do know that running away from it isn’t fighting for it.”

“I’m not running away; I’m being realistic.”

“You’re being scared.”

The words stung because they were true. “Of course I’m scared. Wouldn’t you be?”

“Terrified,” Ate Lily admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’d give up without a real fight.”

“We did fight for it. For months. We tried everything—talking, not talking, giving each other space, being together constantly. Nothing worked.”

“What did work?” Ate Lily asked quietly.

I looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You said nothing worked. But you were together for quite a while. Something must have worked, at least for a while.”

I thought about it—the study sessions that turned into long conversations, the way we could sit in comfortable silence, the way he made me laugh even when I was stressed, how safe I felt when he held me.

“Everything worked,” I said finally. “That was the problem. When we weren’t thinking about the complicated stuff, we were perfect together.”

“So the problem wasn’t compatibility,” Ate Lily said. “The problem was context.”

“Which we can’t change.”

“But contexts can shift. Time can change how we see things, how we process them.”

“You sound like you’re suggesting we get back together.”

“I’m suggesting that if you love someone—really love them—you don’t give up the first time things get difficult.”

“The first time? Ate, we struggled with this for months.”

“You struggled with it for months while still trying to be together. Maybe what you needed was space to process individually before you could figure out how to be together.”

I stared at her. “Are you saying the breakup was a good thing?”

“I’m saying that sometimes you have to step back to see clearly. And if you’re meant to be together, you’ll find your way back to each other.”

“And if we’re not?”

“Then you’ll find your way to something else that makes you happy.”

It was such an Ate Lily response—practical, optimistic, refusing to catastrophize.

“Besides,” she added with a small smile, “you’re at the same school. It’s not like he’s disappearing from your life completely.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said, the beer making me more honest than usual. “What if I have to watch him move on with someone else?”

“Then you’ll survive it.”

“What if someone realizes how amazing he is? Have you seen him? He’s ridiculously good-looking, and he’s brilliant, and he’s kind, and now that he’s single again…”

“Here we go,” Sage muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I’m serious! Do you know how many girls used to flirt with him when we went out? Even when we were obviously together! There was this one time at a bar, and this group of girls kept sending him drinks—”

“Saffron—”

“And that was when he was taken! Now that he’s available, they’re probably lining up! He’s probably already getting their numbers and going on dates and forgetting I ever existed—”

“Wow…” Sage said. “This is painful to watch.”

“You’ll be in my position someday,” I shot back. “And when you are, I’m going to laugh at you.”

“I’m never falling in love. Too much drama.”

“That’s what they all say,” Ate Lily said with a knowing smile.

“I’m different.”

“You’re definitely not different,” I said patronizingly, pinching Sage’s nose. “And when you do fall in love, I hope it’s with someone who’ll drive you crazy so Ate Lily and I can return the favor of watching you lose your mind.”

“It won’t happen.”

“It always happens to the ones who say it won’t happen,” Ate Lily said.

I drew a deep breath. “Milo is genuinely wonderful, and it’s only a matter of time before someone else notices…”

“If he’s genuinely wonderful, maybe you should trust that he’s not going to immediately jump into something else,” Ate Lily said.

“But what if he does?”

“Then he wasn’t as wonderful as you thought.”

“He is wonderful. That’s the problem.”

Sage threw a pillow at me. “Baliw.”

“I’m heartbroken. There’s a difference.”

“You’re drunk and heartbroken, which is even worse.”

“I’m not drunk. I’m tipsy and realistic.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Ate Lily said, but she was smiling. “And also spiraling.”

“Fine, I’m spiraling. But I’m spiraling about legitimate concerns.”

“Are they, though?” Sage asked. “Because from where I’m sitting, gumagana lang imagination mo.”

“I’m being prepared for inevitabilities.”

“You’re catastrophizing.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then realized they were probably right. The beer had loosened my tongue, but it had also loosened my grip on rational thinking.

“Maybe I am catastrophizing,” I admitted. “But it still hurts.”

“Of course it hurts,” Ate Lily said gently. “Breakups are supposed to hurt. That’s how you know it mattered.”

“I just wish it hurt less.”

“It will. Give it time.”

We fell into comfortable silence after that, the three of us sprawled on the small deck looking out at the dark ocean. Despite everything, I felt lighter than I had in days. Not better, exactly, but less alone.

“Thank you,” I said eventually.

“For what?” Sage asked.

“For kidnapping me. For listening to me spiral. For not letting me wallow indefinitely.”

“That’s what siblings are for,” Ate Lily said simply.

“Even when I’m being impossible?”

“Especially when you’re being impossible.”

By the time we moved inside, I was tired in a way that felt different from the exhaustion of the past few days. Not the heavy, depressed tiredness that had kept me in bed, but the good kind of tiredness that comes from laughing with people you love.

We dragged pillows and blankets to the living room, spreading them out in front of the large windows that looked out over the water. It reminded me of childhood sleepovers, when we’d camp out in the living room during storms or on special occasions.

“Remember when we used to do this?” Ate Lily asked, echoing my thoughts.

“Every thunderstorm,” I said.

“You were such a scaredy-cat,” Sage added.

“I was cautious. Storms are dangerous.”

“You made us tell you stories to distract you.”

“They were good stories.”

“They were terrible stories. You just needed the distraction.”

“Maybe I need distraction now, too,” I said quietly.

“That’s why we’re here,” Ate Lily said, settling beside me on the makeshift bed. “Distraction, perspective, and sisterly wisdom.”

“And my reluctant participation,” Sage added, but he was smiling.

We ended up falling asleep there, the three of us tangled together like we used to do when we were kids. For the first time since the breakup, I slept without dreams.

---

The respite ended too quickly. The drive back to Manila felt like returning from another world, and by the time I was walking across campus toward my first class, the weekend felt like something that had happened to someone else.

But something had shifted. Not healed, exactly, but shifted. I felt more myself than I had in days, more capable of facing whatever came next.

Which was good, because what came next was seeing Milo again.

I paused outside the classroom, taking a deep breath before entering.

When I walked into the classroom, I saw Milo sitting in his usual seat. There was an empty chair next to him—the same empty chair that used to separate us before we got together, before everything changed between us.

It was such a small thing, but it felt enormous. We were back to the beginning, to that careful distance we’d maintained when we were still figuring each other out. Full circle, except now the space between us wasn’t filled with possibility—it was filled with the weight of everything we’d tried and lost.

I took my old seat, the one I had when we were still strangers who competed in class and barely spoke outside of it. The empty chair between us felt like a chasm.

As the class began, I found myself hyper-aware of that vacant space. I could see Milo in my peripheral vision, taking notes with the same focus he’d always had… I knew he could see me, but he was deliberately ignoring me. I wished I could do the same. Kung kaya ko lang na hindi siya tignan.

But this was what we’d chosen. This was what moving forward looked like—not sitting together like we had nothing to work through, but not avoiding each other completely either. Just…separate. The way we’d been before everything got complicated.

When the professor asked a question, Milo raised his hand and gave an answer that was as thoughtful and articulate as always. He seemed fine. More than fine. He seemed completely unaffected by everything that had happened between us.

I should have been happy about that. It meant the breakup had been the right choice, that we were both better off apart.

Instead, it made me feel worse.

Bakit parang ako lang iyong hindi okay?

When class ended, I took my time gathering my things, hoping to avoid any awkward interactions. But when I finally made it to the hallway, I found Milo waiting near the stairs.

My heart jumped involuntarily. Maybe he wanted to talk. Maybe the casual distance was just for show, and he was struggling with this as much as I was.

“Hi,” I said carefully as I approached.

“Hi.” He smiled, but it was polite, distant. The kind of smile you’d give an acquaintance, not someone you claimed to love. “How was your weekend?”

“Good. Went to Batangas with my siblings.”

“That sounds nice. Good to spend time with family.”

“Yeah, it was.” I waited for him to ask more, to show some interest in what I’d been doing, how I’d been coping, but he just nodded pleasantly.

“Una na ako,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“Right. Of course.”

“Ingat ka pauwi.”

“Yeah. You, too.”

He walked away without looking back, leaving me standing in the hallway feeling like I’d just had a conversation with a stranger. The casualness of it was almost worse than anger would have been. At least anger would have meant I still mattered to him, that our relationship had left some kind of mark.

This polite indifference suggested he’d already processed the breakup and moved on completely.

I made my way toward the parking area slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. This walk had been something we’d done together. We’d discussed the day’s classes, made plans for dinner, argued about cases we’d studied.

Now I walked alone, hyperaware of the silence where our conversation used to be.

Other students moved around me in pairs and groups, talking and laughing about normal things. I felt like I was watching their lives through glass, separate and disconnected from my own reality.

When I reached my car, I sat behind the wheel for several minutes before starting the engine. The passenger seat looked enormous and empty. I could still picture Milo there, choosing the song or reaching for something in his bag, his presence filling the space in a way I hadn’t fully appreciated until it was gone.

The silence in the car was deafening.

I gripped the steering wheel and tried to summon the strength to drive home. This was what I’d chosen. This was what I’d decided was best for both of us. We were being mature, giving each other space, avoiding the kind of messy post-breakup drama that would make everything harder.

But maturity felt terrible.

I rested my forehead against the steering wheel and let myself cry—not the dramatic sobs of the past week, but quiet tears of exhaustion and loss. The weekend with my siblings had helped, but it hadn’t magically fixed the problem—I still loved him, and I still had to see him every day, and I still had no idea how to navigate a world where he was politely indifferent to me.

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Chapter 40

Three weeks after, and I still felt like I was drowning.

Not dramatically—I wasn’t skipping classes or having public breakdowns. I showed up, took notes, participated when called on. But everything felt muted, like I was experiencing my own life from behind glass. The legal concepts that used to click into place now required effort to understand. Cases I would have dissected with enthusiasm now felt like puzzles with missing pieces.

The worst part was pretending everything was normal. Smiling at blockmates, nodding along to conversations, acting like I wasn’t slowly unraveling inside.

Because Milo’s just always around.

Para akong hindi maka-hinga kapag nandyan siya, pero alam ko na mas malulunod ako kapag wala siya.

There was no winning this break-up.

Sir was discussing something when I realized I’d been staring at the same highlighted sentence in my notes for ten minutes without reading it. I glanced up, hoping I hadn’t missed anything important, and my eyes automatically drifted to where Milo was.

He was leaning forward slightly, completely engaged with the discussion, taking notes in that handwriting I used to tease him about. He looked… fine. Better than fine. He looked like someone who was exactly where he belonged.

Ako lang ata talaga iyong nawawala.

I looked away quickly, focusing on my notes with renewed determination. This was what we’d agreed on—polite distance, mature handling of an impossible situation. I just needed to get better at it—kagaya niya.

After class ended, I packed my things slowly, letting the room clear out. It had become a habit, this careful timing to avoid awkward hallway encounters. But as I reached for my bag, Rica appeared beside my desk.

“Saffron, perfect timing! We have a plan.”

I looked up to find her grinning with the kind of excitement that usually meant something I wouldn’t want to participate in.

“What kind of plan?”

“Surprise party for tomorrow. We heard na birthday ni Sir, and you know how stressed everyone is about the upcoming recit. Sheena and I thought maybe we could organize a party.”

“A party?” I repeated weakly.

“Nothing big! Just the block, some food, games. Because I really will die kapag nagrecit tayo tomorrow.”

The thought of a party—of being in a room with all our blockmates, including Milo, pretending to be festive—made my stomach churn. But saying no would require explanations I wasn’t ready to give.

“Sure,” I heard myself say. “Sounds fun.”

“Great! We’ll discuss sa gc kung ano iyong need na dalhin tomorrow. We need to arrive early to prep the room.”

“Okay.”

The next day, I arrived at our classroom thirty minutes early to find half our block already there, decorating the space with streamers and balloons. Sheena was hanging decorations while Rica arranged the chairs to create more space for activities.

“Saff! Finally!” Sheena called out. “Can you help with these balloons?”

I grabbed the pack of balloons she thrust into my hands and started inflating them. Around me, my blockmates were chatting about the party (wondering if papayag si Sir kasi wala ata sa kanilang nagreview. I wished I could say the same), but their voices seemed to come from far away.

“You look super enthusiastic,” Sheena said. I was tired but the sarcasm didn’t escape my ear.

“Yeah, of course,” I replied, forcing enthusiasm into my voice.

“You okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

She gave me a curious look but didn’t press. I was thankful for that. The last thing that I wanted was to discuss my break-up habang nagpapalobo ako ng balloons. I continued tying balloons, grateful for the simple task that didn’t require much thought.

When Milo walked in fifteen minutes later, I felt the familiar tightness in my chest. He looked around the classroom and saw the decorations.

“Milo! Can you help hang this banner?” Sheena called out.

“Sure.”

I watched him work, efficient and helpful as always, chatting easily with our blockmates. If our situation was affecting him, he hid it perfectly. Wow. Pwede na siyang mag-artista.

Sir arrived exactly on time. He didn’t look ‘surprised’ at all. Why would he? This was probably his tenth surprise birthday party this week.

“Sir, since it’s a special day,” Sheena said with a smile na obvious na nagpapa-cute siya kay Sir, “We would like to celebrate you being born into this world.”

We were all looking at Sir. Honestly… I’d rather that we have a recitation. Pretending to enjoy was harder. I just wanted to dwell in my own thoughts… and perhaps suffer some more because at least I’ll be reminded that I was still living.

“Fine,” Sir said and everyone cheered. I pretended to smile.

The party began. I was quietly keeping to myself. I was waiting for the class to end. Gusto ko ng umuwi.

“Newspaper dance!” Rica said after a while. “Classic!”

“Everyone find a partner,” Sheena called out.

I looked around frantically, hoping to pair up with Sheena or Rica, but they were already moving toward other blockmates. Before I could think of an escape, narinig ko iyong pangalan ko.

“Saff and Milo?”

I felt my entire system freezing.

Napa-tingin ako kay Rica. Sheena quickly elbowed her… like she was aware that something was amiss with Milo and me. But Rica was oblivious. Instead, she called our names again like we were expected to be partners in this game that required proximity.

Naka-tingin sa amin lahat.

Of course.

I stood up and pretended that everything was fine—that it was totally fine that I was about to play newspaper dance with my ex.

“Sure,” I said, my voice coming out steadier than I felt.

Rica distributed sheets of newspaper to each pair while someone set up music on their phone. Rica explained the rules na para bang hindi pa namin alam ’yon—dance on the newspaper, and when the music stops, fold it in half. Last couple standing wins.

The first round was easy enough. The full sheet of newspaper gave us plenty of space to stand without touching. When the music started, we swayed awkwardly, maintaining careful distance while other couples around us laughed and moved more freely.

“Go, guys!” I heard Rica call out from across the room.

I managed to smile and nod, but the muscles in my face felt stiff. Beside me, Milo moved with the same polite distance, both of us going through the motions.

When the music stopped, we stepped off our newspaper and watched Rica fold it in half. The space was noticeably smaller now, but still manageable.

The second round began, and I could feel the walls of my composure starting to crack. The reduced space meant we had to stand closer, our arms occasionally brushing as we moved. Each accidental contact felt like an electric shock.

I focused on the floor, on the music, on anything except the familiar scent of his cologne or the way he moved beside me. But I could feel him there—his presence, his warmth, the careful way he avoided looking at me directly.

When the music stopped again, there were fewer couples left. Rica folded our newspaper once more, creating a space barely big enough for two people to stand together.

“Last round!” Rica announced. “This is where it gets interesting.”

My hands were shaking as the music started again. The newspaper was so small now that we had no choice but to stand close—closer than we’d been since the breakup. I could feel the heat from his body, could count his heartbeats if I wanted to.

This was impossible.

Standing here, pretending everything was normal, when every cell in my body was screaming with the wrongness of being this close to him while having to act like everything was fine and normal.

Other partners around us were laughing, some falling off their newspapers, others embracing the challenge. But we stood rigid and separate, both of us barely breathing.

I couldn’t do this anymore.

When the music stopped, instead of waiting for the result, I pretended to have stepped off our newspaper and to have lost the game.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, not meeting Milo’s eyes. “Labas lang ako.”

I walked toward the door as casually as I could manage. In the end of the hallway, I leaned against the wall and tried to catch my breath.

The sound of laughter and music continued from inside the classroom, but out here everything felt too quiet, too empty. I should go back. I should pretend I was just feeling dizzy or needed water. I should be mature about this.

But I couldn’t move.

“Saffron.”

I looked up to see Milo standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

“You okay?”

The simple question almost broke me. The concern in his voice, the way he’d followed me out here even though we were supposed to be maintaining distance—it was too much.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically.

“You sure?”

Inside, our blockmates were still enjoying the party, their voices creating a soundtrack of normalcy that felt completely at odds with whatever this was.

“You should go back,” I said. “They’ll wonder where you are.”

“They’ll wonder where both of us are.”

Right. Of course they would. We were supposed to be a couple. Our absence together would be noted, probably commented on. More pretense to maintain.

“I just needed a minute,” I said, pushing off from the wall. “We should—”

“Saffron.” His voice stopped me. “This isn’t working.”

I looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“This.” He gestured between us. “You’re obviously not okay.”

“We agreed—”

“We agreed to try. But it’s been weeks, and you’re…” He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “You’re not okay.”

The observation stung because it was true. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not. And I don’t think you will be as long as we’re…” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I remembered from when he was trying to work through difficult problems. “As long as we’re in the same space every day.”

Something cold settled in my stomach. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying maybe we need more distance.”

“More distance? How?” I asked sarcastically.

But even as I asked, I thought I knew what he was suggesting. And the thought terrified me.

Inside the classroom, someone had started a new game. I could hear everyone laughing, could hear Rica organizing teams. Normal, happy sounds that felt like they belonged to a different world.

“We should go back,” I said quietly. Ayokong marinig kung anuman iyong sasabihin niya.

Milo nodded, but neither of us moved toward the door.

“Saffron,” he said after a moment.

“I’m fine,” I just said.

I understood what he was trying to say kahit hindi niya pa sabihin… but understanding didn’t make it hurt less.

We walked back into the classroom together, slipping into the ongoing festivities as if nothing had happened. I smiled when appropriate, laughed at jokes, participated in the remaining games. But the conversation in the hallway sat between us like a weight, and I spent the rest of the party counting minutes until I could leave.

---

Semester break arrived like a relief I hadn’t realized I needed. Two weeks away from school, away from the daily navigation of seeing Milo, away from the exhausting effort of pretending everything was normal.

I spent the break at home, forcing myself to fall back into family routines that felt both comforting and surreal. Dad was still walking on eggshells around me, but the careful distance we’d maintained was slowly closing. We had dinner together most nights, talked about my classes, avoided the subjects that had caused our rift.

“You look tired,” Ate Lily observed one evening after dinner.

“Just stressed about school.”

“Start na ng sem mo?”

“Not yet.”

“Ah…”

“Will it get better?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can’t you give me a timeline?”

Instead of answering, Ate Lily just tousled my hair and tried to change the subject into happier ones. Sage joined us quickly after. When we were younger, we always have dinner together as a family. But as we grew older, of course things were bound to change. Ate Lily had to move to Laguna for college; Sage wanted to try being independent before he was dragged back home; I moved out, too.

We all live our own lives now, but it was comforting to know that my siblings are always here right when I need them.

I spent most of the break in my room, catching up on reading, trying to prepare for the new semester. But mostly, I found myself staring at my phone, drafting messages to Milo that I never sent.

‘How was your break?’

‘Are you okay?’

‘I miss you.’

All deleted before I could talk myself into sending them.

When classes resumed, I felt slightly more prepared to handle whatever came next. The break had given me perspective, space to breathe. I could do this. I could manage whatever “more distance” Milo had been considering.

I walked into our classroom on the first day back with something that might have been optimism.

But Milo’s seat was empty.

I stared at the vacant chair, waiting for him to appear. He was often among the last to arrive, slipping in just before the class began. Maybe he was running late. Maybe he’d had trouble with transportation. Wala pa naman siyang sasakyan… Sinamahan ko siya dati sa pagcocommute. It was so hard.

I wished he’d reconsider getting a car. I just wanted him to be more comfortable.

But as Sir called the class to order and began the class, the empty seat remained empty.

“Where’s Milo?” Rica whispered.

I shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. “Work.”

But even as I said it, something cold was settling in my chest.

After class, I lingered, hoping to catch sight of him in the hallway. I walked around, but there was no sign of him anywhere.

It wasn’t until I was leaving the building that I saw him.

He emerged from a different classroom—one I recognized as belonging to the working student section. Different professors, different schedule, different set of classmates.

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

I stood frozen, watching him walk toward the exit, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. He looked the same—same clothes, same books, same stride.

But he was coming from the wrong classroom.

He was supposed to be with me—we were supposed to figure out how to exist in each other’s space.

“Milo.”

He turned at the sound of his name, and when he saw me, something flickered across his face. Not surprise—like he’d been expecting to have this conversation.

“Hi,” he said carefully.

“What were you doing in there?” The question came out sharper than I’d intended.

“I transferred.”

“Transferred where?”

“Working student section.”

The words hung between us like a challenge. I stared at him, waiting for more explanation, some indication that this was temporary, that there was some other reason. But his expression remained carefully neutral.

“When?” I asked.

“I submitted the request after ng finals.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“We’re not…” He paused, seeming to reconsider his words. “We’re not together anymore, Saffron. I don’t have to clear every decisions with you.”

The way he said it—like I was being unreasonable for expecting basic courtesy—made something sharp twist in my chest.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

I stared at him, this person I’d loved, who I’d thought I knew better than anyone. The careful distance in his expression, the polite tone, the way he was treating this like a casual conversation between acquaintances.

“I meant that we see each other every day. I meant that this affects both of us. I meant that maybe a heads-up would have been decent.”

“You’re right,” he said after a moment. “I should have mentioned it. But I thought…” He trailed off.

“You thought what?”

“I thought it would be easier this way. No long conversations about whether it was the right choice. No negotiations or attempts to change my mind.”

“So you just decided.”

“Yes.”

The simple admission hurt more than a long explanation would have. At least an explanation would have suggested he’d considered my feelings in the decision.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you’re struggling. Because as long as we’re in the same classroom every day, pretending that everything’s fine, neither of us can move forward.”

“Apparently I’m the only one struggling,” I said, hearing the bitterness in my own voice. “You seem fine.”

Something shifted in his expression—a flash of something that might have been pain. But it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

“This is better for both of us,” he said instead.

“You mean it’s better for you.”

“No, I mean it’s better for both of us. I’ve watched you struggle for weeks, Saffron. I’ve seen you barely keeping up with classes that used to be easy for you. I’ve seen you force yourself to pretend everything’s normal when it’s clearly not.”

“And your solution is to disappear?”

“I’m still here.”

“Are you?” diretsong tanong ko sa kanya.

He said nothing, but I heard something breaking.

“Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I guess that’s it, then.”

“Saffron—”

“No, you’re right. This is better. Now I don’t have to pretend to be okay with seeing you every day.”

I turned to walk away, but his voice stopped me.

“That’s not what I wanted.”

“What did you want?”

“I wanted you to be able to focus on school again. I wanted you to stop looking like you were in pain every time you had to sit in the same room as me.”

I felt my chest tightening.

“Take care of yourself, Milo.”

I walked away then, not waiting for his reply, feeling his eyes on my back until I turned the corner. Only when I was out of sight did I allow myself to lean against the wall and process what had just happened.

He was gone. Really, truly gone. Not just broken up with me, but removed from my daily life entirely. No more careful interactions, no more polite distance, no more pretending we were mature enough to handle being in the same space.

I thought about the empty chair beside me, how it would stay empty now. I thought about study sessions without him, breaks where I wouldn’t have to worry about running into him, the absence of his presence in all the small routines that had shaped my days.

It should have felt like relief. This was what he’d promised in the hallway during the party—more distance, space to heal, an end to the exhausting dance we’d been doing.

Instead, it felt like the final door had closed on whatever we’d been trying to save.

As I reached my car, I realized this was what moving on was supposed to feel like. Not the gradual healing I’d imagined, but the sharp, clean break of having no choice but to start over completely.

I sat behind the wheel for a moment, staring at the building where he was probably still somewhere, attending classes with different people, building a routine that didn’t include me at all.

Then I started the engine and drove home, leaving behind the last place where we’d been part of each other’s daily lives.

The empty passenger seat no longer felt like a reminder of what I’d lost. Now it just felt like space I needed to learn to fill with something else entirely.

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Chapter 41

The first month after Milo transferred felt like learning to breathe underwater.

I’d wake up, stare at the ceiling for exactly five minutes, then force myself out of bed. Shower, coffee, drive to school. Sit in my classes with that empty chair next to me—not the deliberate gap we’d maintained when we were broken up but still seeing each other daily, but actual emptiness. No possibility of him walking in late, no chance encounters in the hallway.

It was what I’d thought I wanted.

Complete separation.

Clean break.

It felt terrible.

But by the next month, something started to change—or at least iyon ang gusto kong maramdaman. Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion of being sad all the time, or maybe it was the way I thought my grades would start slipping again and I refused to let that happen.

Either way, I found myself actually listening during class instead of staring at that empty chair. Taking notes that made sense. Participating in class discussions with my blockmates after class… Because I didn’t want to walk by myself after class. It would just remind me of Milo. Kaya sumasama ako sa mga gala nila minsan.

I just needed to be around people.

“Okay, what’s happening?” Sheena asked one Tuesday after class. “You’ve been like… functional lately.”

I packed my notes carefully. “I’ve always been functional.”

“Not like this. You’ve been super OA sa mga recits. And you actually laughed at Sir’s joke yesterday.”

“It was funny.”

“It wasn’t. Ang corny kaya. So, what changed?”

I considered how to answer that. The truth was, I’d had a conversation with myself a month after the breakup… or more like an ultimatum, really. I could keep drowning in the aftermath of my relationship with Milo, or I could remember that I’d had goals before him and I still had them after him.

“I remembered I actually like law school,” I said finally.

Sheena studied my face. “And Milo?” she asked. Alam ko naman na matagal niya na ’tong gustong itanong sa akin.

The question I’d been dreading before. Not just from Sheena, but from all our blockmates who’d noticed that he’d simply disappeared from our block. They’d asked casual questions at first—where was he, may conflict ba sa sched sa work niya, if babalik ba siya sa block namin. I’d deflected for as long as I could, but eventually I’d had to address it directly.

It had been a Thursday afternoon. We’d finished Labor Law 1 and were hanging out in this open space near our building, most of our block sprawled on the benches talking about the weekend. Someone mentioned a party and asked if Milo and I were going.

“We’re not together anymore,” I’d said, the words coming out more easily than I’d expected.

The silence that followed was immediate and complete.

“What?” Sheena had asked.

“Milo and I broke up. He transferred to the working student section. We’re fine, it was mutual, but I’d appreciate it if we didn’t make it a thing.”

“But—” Rica started.

“No buts. Please. I’m okay, he’s okay, we’re both okay. It just didn’t work out.”

“Saffron—” Sheena tried.

“Seriously. I don’t want to talk about it. Not because I’m devastated or angry or whatever you think I should be feeling. I just want to move forward, and talking about it doesn’t help with that.”

The finality in my voice had convinced them to drop it, though I’d caught them exchanging worried looks for weeks afterward.

Now, a month later, Sheena was testing the waters again.

“He’s fine,” I told her. “I’m fine. We’re both fine and living completely separate lives, which was the point.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“No.”

“Are you planning to?”

“Eventually, maybe.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. I knew that theoretically, at some point in the future, I might consider dating again. But the thought felt abstract, like planning what I’d do if I won the lottery. Possible in theory, but not particularly relevant to my current reality.

Because despite everything—despite the breakup, despite the transfer, despite the clean break we’d both agreed was necessary—I hadn’t actually stopped believing that Milo and I would figure this out eventually.

Not immediately, not soon, maybe not for years.

But eventually.

It wasn’t hope, exactly. Hope felt too desperate, too uncertain. This was more like knowledge. Like knowing the sun would rise tomorrow or that my family loved me even when they were frustrated with me.

Just a fact I carried around without examining too closely.

“Good,” Sheena said, apparently satisfied with my answers. “Because my cousin is single and nakita niya picture mo and he’s begging me for an introduction.”

“Sheena.”

“What? I’m just saying. You’re allowed to move on.”

“I’m moving on.”

“You’re moving forward. There’s a difference.”

She wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t ready to examine that difference too closely.

Days passed, and I’d fallen into a routine that felt sustainable. Study during the week, maintaining the academic standards I’d always held for myself. Weekend plans with friends—nothing major, just coffee dates or trips to the mall or study sessions that actually involved studying instead of wallowing.

And tennis.

I’d discovered tennis completely by accident. Sage had mentioned that there’s a tennis court near his condo, and I’d been complaining about needing more exercise. One Saturday morning, I’d gone there with a borrowed racket just to hit balls against the practice wall, and something about the repetitive motion, the focus required to make clean contact, the satisfaction of a well-placed shot had appealed to me immediately.

Within a month, I was playing twice a week with a coach I found online.

“Substitute ba ni Milo ang tennis?” Sage asked. Kakatapos lang ng tournament niya or something. Pinuntahan niya ako dito. I thought we’d play, but he just wanted to annoy me. So, I was just practicing my serve.

“If you’re just going to annoy me, go home.”

“You like tennis the way people like crack.”

“That’s not a real comparison.” Naubos ko na ’yong tennis ball, so I began to pick them up. “Besides, I only play twice a week.”

“You bought three new rackets last week.”

“I’m figuring out my preferences.”

“You have a serve calendar.”

“It’s called being organized.”

Sage rolled his eyes, but he’d stopped commenting after that. Probably because even he could see that tennis was helping. Not fixing, exactly, but helping. It was something that belonged entirely to me, something I’d learned post-Milo, something that had nothing to do with our relationship or its aftermath.

Plus, I was getting good at it. Really good. Good enough that my coach had started hinting about local tournaments, though I wasn’t ready for that level of commitment yet.

“Whatever,” Sage said. “Di ka nagrereply sa GC. They’re asking kung sasama ka sa weekend.”

“Right…” I replied. “I’m actually not sure. May inaayos ako for internship,” I told him.

Sage looked at me like he was trying to figure out if I were telling the truth or if I were just making excuses. If ako lang ang masusunod, of course gusto kong sumama sa kanila sa Subic this weekend, but truth was, busy talaga ako. I needed to finalize some things for my internship.

“Okay, but tell them yourself.”

“Ikaw na.”

“I already told them you’re busy but Lucho was asking kung heartbroken ka ba.”

I groaned. “Why were you even talking about me? Weirdos.”

---

“So what’s the plan for summer?” Sheena asked one afternoon as we reviewed our schedules for finals.

“Internship. Duh.”

“Where?”

“Still figuring it out.”

That was only partially true. I’d been researching internship opportunities since the beginning of the second semester, but I hadn’t confirmed with anyone yet. Part of it was the usual second-year anxiety—internships were important, the connections you made could shape your entire career, the pressure to choose the right firm felt enormous.

But part of it was also more personal. Most of the obvious choices—the prestigious firms, the positions with the best long-term prospects—would involve family connections. Dad’s colleagues, Mom’s professional network, recommendations from professors who’d known our family for years.

I didn’t want that. Not because I was still angry with Dad—we’d been slowly rebuilding our relationship since, having dinner together once a week, talking about school and cases and everything. We were okay. Better than okay, really.

But I needed to prove to myself that I could succeed based on my own merit. That the opportunities I earned were ones I’d genuinely earned, not ones that had been handed to me because of my last name.

“You should talk to your mom,” Sheena suggested. “I bet she has amazing connections.”

“Nope,” I said. “My grades are good kaya. I can get my own internship.”

Sheena laughed. “Brag much?”

“Nope. How is it bragging if it’s the truth?” I asked.

Since I had a lot of free time and I refused to think about sad things, I focused all of my attention on studying. I had good grades— really good grades. I wouldn’t be surprised kung ako ang top student by the end of this year.

I basically live and breathe my law books.

So, I guess that gave me quite a bit of a leeway kaya pwede pa rin ako magdecide kung saan ako mag-i-internship. I mean, who wouldn’t want the top student from SCA College of Law as part of their internship program?

But I guess it was really hard to decide… kasi matatapos na lang ang second sem, hindi pa rin ako makapagdesisyon.

So, when Mom brought it up herself a few days later, I was ready with my answer. I’d come home for our weekly dinner, and we were cleaning up afterward when she mentioned it casually.

“May napili ka na ba for your internship?”

“Yup.”

“Where?”

“Secret.”

Mom’s forehead creased. “Why won’t you tell me? Illegal ba ’yan?”

“What?” I asked and laughed. “Of course not. But… I chose a firm na hindi connected sa ’yo, kay Dad, kila Tito and Tita,” I continued. “Do you know how hard it was? Affiliated yata ako sa halos lahat ng firms!”

I knew I sounded like a brat, but it was true! One way or another, meron akong Tito or Tita na may something sa firm na ’yon. That’s part of the reason why it took me so long to figure out kung saan ko gustong mag-internship.

“Okay. Kung ’yan ang gusto mo,” Mom said. “But if you change your mind—”

“I appreciate the offer. Really. But I want to find something on my own,” I said, politely cutting her off.

“Any particular reason?”

I considered how to explain it without sounding like I was rejecting help out of pride or stubbornness. “I just need to know that whatever I get, I earned it. Not because someone owed Dad a favor or because you or Tito or Tita vouched for me.”

Mom nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“You’re not offended?”

“Why would I be offended? That’s your choice and your career at the end of the day.”

“Some parents might be hurt that their daughter doesn’t want their help.”

“I’m not some parents.”

That was true. Charisse Faith Borromeo had never been the type to take professional decisions personally. If anything, she probably respected my choice to forge my own path.

“Besides,” she added, “being top of your class opens doors regardless of connections. You’ll have plenty of options.”

She was right about that. Most of my blockmates had to apply while I received invitations.

I read the invitations carefully, researching each firm’s reputation, client base, and company culture. I wanted somewhere I could learn practical skills without compromising the ethical standards I was still figuring out for myself.

By the end of the second sem, I finally made a decision. I decided to go to a mid-sized firm called Aguirre Law that specialized in corporate law and regulatory compliance.

It wasn’t the most prestigious option, and the ‘allowance’ was barely even there. Mas hihingi pa ata ako ng pera kay Sage. But during my interview, I’d been impressed by the partners’ emphasis on ethical practice and their willingness to take on pro bono cases alongside their corporate work. Plus, they’d been completely honest about the challenges I’d face as an intern—long hours, demanding clients, steep learning curve.

“We don’t baby our interns,” the Partner had told me during my final interview. “You’ll be doing real work on real cases from day one. But you’ll also get real experience, and if you’re as capable as your academic record suggests, you’ll leave here with skills most law students don’t develop until they’re practicing lawyers.”

That was exactly what I wanted.

Not an easy summer, but a productive one—iyong tipo na matutulog na lang ako pag-uwi ko dahil sa sobrang pagod

My first day started right after I finished my final exams. I didn’t even have time to breathe! Natulog lang ako and then the next day, nasa internship na agad ako. I mean… wasn’t this what I wanted?

“Nervous?” Sage asked on Sunday night as I organized my work clothes for the week. Sage won some tournament or whatever and since may money na naman siya, I asked him nicely if he’d take me shopping. I argued that I’d be starting my internship and I needed new clothes. Sage just looked at me and said it’s either I become rich myself or I marry a very generous man kasi napaka-gastos ko raw na tao. Tsk. I’d be the rich man myself.

“Excited.”

“Same thing.”

“Not really.”

I was excited. For the first time since the breakup, I was looking forward to something that had nothing to do with processing my feelings or rebuilding my relationship with my family or figuring out how to be okay on my own.

This was about my future, my career, my potential as a lawyer.

I was also terrified, but that felt like the good kind of terror. The kind that meant I was about to challenge myself in ways I hadn’t before.

Monday morning, I woke up at 5:30, spent 45 minutes on my appearance (because I believe that I have to look my very best always), and arrived at the Aguirre Law office building in Makati 30 minutes early. I sat in my car for 20 minutes, reviewing my notes one more time, then walked into the lobby at exactly 8:55AM.

The office was everything I’d expected from a corporate law firm—sleek furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, conference rooms with glass walls that made every meeting look important. I checked in with the receptionist, who directed me to the conference room where the other summer interns were gathering.

There were five of us total. I recognized two from Brent although I didn’t know them personally. The other two were complete strangers, though their confident demeanor suggested they thrive in competitive environments.

“Saffron Borromeo,” I introduced myself to the group.

“Wait, Borromeo?” one of them said. “Are you related to Judge Borromeo?”

Did they stalk me? Kasi for sure hindi lang naman si Dad ang Borromeo na judge sa Pilipinas.

“He’s my father,” I said instead. Ayoko naman magkaron ng enemy dito. The last enemy I had—tsk. Ano ba ’yang iniisip ko.

“And Charisse Borromeo is your mom, right?”

“My mother,” I simply said. What’s next? Na kapatid ko si Sage Borromeo? Should we start discussing my family tree because they might also be interested sa doctor side of my family.

I watched their expressions shift slightly, the way they always did when people realized my family connections. Not unfriendly, exactly, but more calculating. Wondering whether I’d earned my position or inherited it.

“Cool,” the same intern said. “I’m Martin Cruz. My dad’s a partner at Villareal & Co.”

Ah. So I wasn’t the only one with family in the legal profession.

Before we could continue the conversation, Atty. Aguirre walked into the conference room, followed by two other associates I recognized from my interviews.

“Good morning, everyone. Welcome to Aguirre Law.”

The next two hours were orientation—office procedures, client confidentiality requirements, introduction to the case management system, assignment of supervisors. I was paired with a Junior Associate, a woman in her late twenties who specialized in merger and acquisition law.

“Tell me what you’re hoping to get out of this internship,” she said when we met privately after the general orientation.

“As much practical experience as possible. I want to understand how the law actually works in practice, not just in theory.”

“Good. What’s your biggest concern?”

“That I’ll make mistakes that matter.”

“You will. Everyone does. The goal is to make mistakes that teach you something useful rather than mistakes that get people sued.”

I appreciated her honesty. “How do I do that?”

“Ask questions. When you’re not sure about something, ask. When you think you understand something, ask for confirmation. When you’re about to submit work, ask someone to review it first. Better to look inexperienced than to be dangerously incompetent.”

Over the next hour, she walked me through my first assignment—reviewing contracts for a corporate client and identifying potential liability issues. It was detailed work that required careful attention to legal language and an understanding of business practices I’d only studied in theoretical terms.

By lunch time, my head was spinning, but in a good way. This was exactly the kind of challenge I’d been looking for.

The other interns and I grabbed lunch together at a nearby restaurant, comparing notes on our first morning experiences.

“Anyone else feel like they’re drowning?” Martin asked.

“Completely,” another intern agreed. “But like, drowning in the good way.”

“Is there a good way to drown?”

“You know what I mean.”

I did know what he meant. It was the same feeling I’d had during my first weeks of law school—overwhelming but exhilarating, the sense of being challenged beyond my comfort zone but in a direction I wanted to go.

The afternoon was more contract review, with my supervisor checking my work and explaining the reasoning behind various clauses. By 6PM, I was exhausted but satisfied with what I’d accomplished.

“How was day one?” my supervisor asked as I packed up my things.

“Intense. But good.”

“Tomorrow will be more of the same, but you’ll start getting the hang of it. See you in the morning.”

The drive back to the condo gave me time to process the day. It had been exactly what I’d hoped for—real work, clear expectations, the sense that I was learning skills I’d actually use as a practicing attorney.

I was thinking about calling Dad to tell him about my first day when my phone rang.

“How did it go?” Mom’s voice was neutral, but I could hear the curiosity underneath.

“Good. Really good. Challenging, but that’s what I wanted.”

“What kind of work are they giving you?”

“Contract review to start. M&A stuff. My supervisor seems great.”

“Atty. Aguirre has a solid reputation.”

“You know her?”

“The world of law is very niche. One way or another, makikilala mo rin lahat.”

“I know. Iyong dalawa sa kasama ko, they’re familiar since from Brent so, so I see them around before.”

“That’s nice.”

Then I started to tell mom about some of the things I did, some na nahirapan ako. She was quietly listening. I could already imagine kung ano ang itsura niya habang nakikinig sa akin. She’d always wait patiently hanggang matapos ako and only then would she give her input.

“Thanks for not saying ’ I told you so ’ about finding my own internship.”

“Why would I say that?”

“Because you probably could have gotten me a position somewhere more… prestigious.”

“Prestige isn’t everything, Saffron. Sometimes the best opportunities are the ones you create for yourself.”

After we hung up, I sat in the condo’s living room, replaying the day. For the first time in months, I’d gone through an entire day without thinking about Milo even once—well, I kind of did, but only for a brief moment. Not because I was avoiding thoughts of him, but because I’d been genuinely engaged with something else.

It felt like progress.

Friday evening arrived faster than I’d expected. The week had been a blur of contract language, client meetings I’d observed silently, and research assignments that pushed me to understand corporate law in ways my law books hadn’t covered.

To celebrate the end of our first week, the firm was hosting a welcome dinner for the summer interns at a restaurant near the office. Nothing formal, just a chance for us to meet more of the associates and partners in a relaxed setting.

I chose my outfit carefully—professional enough to show I took the opportunity seriously, but not so formal that I’d look like I was trying too hard. The restaurant was upscale but comfortable, the kind of place where lawyers probably brought clients for important conversations.

“Saffron, right?”

I turned to find one of the senior associates approaching with a drink in hand. I recognized him from the office but hadn’t been introduced yet.

“Yes. And you’re…”

“Paolo Reyes. I work mostly on corporate compliance.” He gestured toward an empty chair. “Mind if I sit?”

“Of course.”

Paolo was probably in his late twenties, with the kind of easy confidence that suggested he was comfortable in professional social situations. We talked about my first week, his path to corporate law, the cases the firm was currently handling.

“So,” he said after we’d been talking for about twenty minutes, “are you seeing anyone?”

The question caught me off guard, though I probably should have expected it. Office relationships weren’t uncommon in law firms, and Friday night drinks were exactly the kind of setting where people tested the waters.

“I’m single,” I said honestly.

“But?”

“But I’m not available.”

Paolo raised an eyebrow. “Oh,” he replied. “That’s an interesting distinction.”

“Is it?”

“Most people who are single are also available. The two usually go together.”

I considered how to explain it without sounding like I was holding onto false hope or refusing to move forward with my life.

“I’m focusing on my career right now,” I just said. “This internship, finishing law school, figuring out what kind of lawyer I want to be. I don’t have the bandwidth for dating.”

It wasn’t the complete truth, but it wasn’t entirely false either. I was focusing on my career, and I didn’t have bandwidth for dating. The fact that I also couldn’t imagine being interested in anyone who wasn’t Milo was beside the point.

And hindi ko naman kailangang i-explain sa kanya ’yon.

“Fair enough,” Paolo said. “But if you change your mind, let me know. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He seemed satisfied with that answer, and we moved on to talking about weekend plans and favorite restaurants in Makati. But as the evening continued and I watched the easy interactions between colleagues, I found myself thinking about the question he’d asked.

I was single. That was objectively true. Milo and I had broken up months ago, he’d transferred to a different section, we had no contact and no immediate prospect of reconciliation.

But I wasn’t available. Not in any meaningful sense. Because despite everything that had happened between us, despite the clean break and the separate lives we were building, I still carried around the quiet certainty that we weren’t finished.

Maybe that made me delusional. Maybe it was just a more… sophisticated form of denial, a way to avoid the pain of truly moving on.

But it didn’t feel delusional. It felt like the most honest thing about my current situation. I could build a successful career, maintain good relationships with friends and family, develop new interests and skills. I could be happy and fulfilled and productive.

But I couldn’t imagine falling in love with someone else. Not because I was still heartbroken, but because I already knew who I was supposed to be with. It was just a matter of time.

The welcome dinner ended around 11PM, and I drove home through the familiar streets of Manila, thinking about the week behind me and the weeks ahead. Tomorrow I’d play tennis in the morning, maybe have lunch with Sage, definitely spend the afternoon preparing for Monday’s assignments.

It was a good life. Not the life I’d imagined when Milo and I were together, but a good life nonetheless. One I was building deliberately, with intention and hope for the future.

And if that future eventually included Milo again, well. That would be good, too.

But for now, this was enough.

---

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Chapter 42

My second week at Aguirre Law started with a stack of merger documents that made my first week’s contract reviews look simple. Suddenly, I regretted not grabbing food bago ako pumasok. I was so hungry but at the same time, I felt like I’d be wasting precious time kapag lumabas ako ng office to buy food… and I didn’t feel comfortable enough para utusan iyong legal secretary to buy me food.

Tsk. I’d just think of this as me fasting.

“These are for the Sandoval acquisition,” my supervisor explained as she set the documents on my desk Monday morning. “The client wants to finalize terms by the end of the month, so we need to identify any potential issues quickly.”

I nodded, though the sheer volume of paperwork was intimidating. “What specifically should I be looking for?”

“Liability concerns, regulatory compliance issues, anything that could complicate the deal structure. You’ve got a good eye for detail—I saw your work last week.”

The compliment should have felt good, but something in her tone made me pause. Last week, three other interns had been assigned similar contract reviews. I knew because they discussed it sa groupchat naming mga interns. I really wasn’t in the talking mood, so nagbasa lang ako ng messages nila.

This week, I was the only one getting merger work—at least this was what I knew based on the group chats.

“Are the other interns also working on this?” I asked. This felt like a big deal—I mean, it’s merger. Baka lang ganito rin iyong ginagawa ng ibang intern. This case felt like all hands on deck.

“They’re still on basic contract review. This is more advanced work.”

After she left, I stared at the documents, wondering if I’d been given this assignment because of my performance or because of my last name. The thought bothered me more than it should have… kasi alam ko naman na ginagawa ko iyong best ko. I barely get any sleep para lang matapos iyong never-ending tasks na binibigay nila.

By lunch, I’d made significant progress on the merger agreements, but the nagging feeling hadn’t gone away. When one of my co-interns suggested we grab food together, I was grateful for the distraction.

Also, I felt like I was already so close to fainting dahil sa gutom at sa dami ng binabasa ko.

“How’s your week going?” I asked as we walked to the nearby café.

“Slow. Still doing basic contract stuff. You?”

“Merger review.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Already? That’s usually third or fourth week work.”

“Maybe they needed someone on it urgently.”

“Or maybe they know who your parents are.”

His tone was casual, but the implication was clear. I’d been wondering the same thing, but hearing it from someone else made it feel more real. And more annoying because apparently, hindi lang ako iyong nakaka-isip nito. Ganito rin ba ang iniisip ng ibang interns? Ibang associates?

“You think that’s why?”

“Look, I’m not saying you don’t deserve it. Your grades speak for themselves. But come on—you’re Judge Borromeo and Atty. Charisse Borromeo’s daughter. Of course they’re going to fast-track you.”

We found a table in the crowded café, and Martin continued talking. I badly wanted to ignore him, but he wouldn’t stop talking. I already knew what he was saying, but hearing those nagging thoughts being verbalized was just further destroying my day.

“The funny part is watching everyone else try to figure out how to get close to us,” he said, gesturing toward our office building. “Paolo from compliance has been asking me about you all week. And that first-year associate—Ana something—keeps offering to help with my research.”

“Maybe they’re just being friendly,” I said because I didn’t like what he was implying although that was how I felt, too… The only difference was that I found that feeling uncomfortable while he clearly found it entertaining.

“Sure. Friendly because my dad’s a partner at Villareal and your parents are legal royalty.”

“Legal royalty?”

What the fuck?

Who even uses that term?

“You know what I mean. Your mom’s been featured in every business magazine in the country, your dad’s a respected judge—and a BAR topnotcher. In this industry, that’s royalty.”

Martin said it matter-of-factly, like he was commenting on the weather. “At the end of the day, connections matter more than anything else. Doesn’t matter how brilliant you are if you can’t even get your foot in the door.”

“Wow.”

Iyon na lang ang nasabi ko.

I should’ve just fainted from hunger in the office.

“That’s reality. Look, we’re lucky. We got born into families that opened doors for us. Other people have to work twice as hard just to get noticed.”

He was right, and I hated that he was right. I’d worked hard for my grades, spent countless hours studying, earned my academic achievements through genuine effort. But I’d also been born into a family where excellence was almost a given, where intellectual discussions happened over dinner, where the path to law school had been cleared if we ever decided to walk it.

“So what do we do with that?” I asked. I hoped he noticed the sarcasm in my voice.

“We don’t waste it. We use the advantages we have, but we don’t pretend we earned them all ourselves.”

“And everyone else?”

“Everyone else figures out their own way. Or they don’t.”

The casual indifference in his voice bothered me, but I couldn’t argue with his logic. The legal profession was competitive, and connections did matter. Pretending otherwise wouldn’t change anything.

But I hated it so much because it’s true.

When we got back to the office, I threw myself into the merger documents with renewed focus. If I was getting opportunities because of my family name, the least I could do was prove I deserved them.

But as the week progressed, the work itself started bothering me more than the reasons I’d been assigned it.

The merger involved a large manufacturing company acquiring a smaller competitor. On paper, it looked straightforward—due diligence had been completed, financing was secured, regulatory approvals were pending. But as I dug deeper into the employment terms, I started noticing patterns that made me uncomfortable.

The acquisition would eliminate duplicate positions, which was standard. But the severance packages were minimal, and the contract language made it nearly impossible for laid-off employees to seek employment in a similar industry.

I spent Tuesday afternoon researching labor law precedents, looking for ways to suggest more balanced terms. When I presented my findings to my supervisor on Wednesday morning, her response was swift and clear.

“Saffron, can you come to my office please?”

I gathered my notes and followed her, expecting she’d want to discuss my research in detail. Instead, she closed the door and sat behind her desk with an expression I hadn’t seen from her before.

“We need to talk about your approach to this project.”

“Is there a problem with my work?” I asked. I thought I was thorough. I spent the whole night drafting my legal memo because I knew that this needed approval from the Partners kaya I really did do my best.

“Your research is good, but you’re missing the point. Our client is the acquiring company. Our job is to protect their interests, not to ensure fair treatment for the target company’s employees.”

“I understand that, but some of these clauses seem unnecessarily harsh—”

“Unnecessarily harsh according to whom?”

“According to basic labor law principles. These employees are losing their jobs through no fault of their own. I don’t understand kung bakit sobrang higpit ng clause sa non-compete. How do we expect them to earn their living kung 3 years ’yung non-compete?”

Maria leaned back in her chair. “Saffron, what do you think our client is paying us for?”

“Legal representation.”

“Specifically, they’re paying us to structure this deal in a way that minimizes their costs and maximizes their legal protections. The merger will provide good severance package and you do agree that the positions are redundant.”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing. This isn’t law school, where you can argue about theoretical justice and ideal outcomes. This is practice, where real companies pay real money for specific results.”

I felt my face heating up. “So we’re supposed to ignore the human cost?”

“We’re supposed to do our job. Which is representing our client’s interests within the bounds of the law. Everything you’ve suggested is legal. That means it’s fair game.”

“Legal doesn’t always mean right.”

“Right and wrong aren’t our concern. Legal and illegal are our concern.”

Her tone was patient but firm, like she was explaining something obvious to a child.

“Look, I get it. You’re young, you went to law school because you want to fight for justice, you think every case should have a clear good guy and bad guy. But that’s not how this works.”

“Then how does it work?”

“It works like this: the client is the business. We’re in the business of protecting the client. The other side has their own lawyers to protect their interests. Our job isn’t to be fair to everyone—it’s to be effective for our client.”

“And if that means screwing over innocent people?”

“It means doing what our client pays us to do, as long as it’s legal.”

I left her office feeling like I’d been slapped. Intellectually, I understood her point. Lawyers were advocates, not judges. Each side had representation, and the system worked because everyone fought hard for their clients.

But understanding it didn’t make it feel right.

It made me feel like shit.

---

I spent the rest of the week revising contract language to favor the acquiring company, adding clauses that would make it harder for employees to challenge the non-compete clause, and I was even instructed to structure severance packages to minimize costs. Every change I made was legal.

Many were standard practice in merger agreements.

But all of them felt wrong.

By Friday, I was questioning whether corporate law was right for me. Maybe I was too naive for this work, too idealistic to be effective in this kind of environment.

The week ended with a dinner at an upscale restaurant in Makati. Partners, senior associates, and summer interns were all invited—more chance to “build relationships” and “discuss interesting cases” in a relaxed setting.

I sat between Martin and a senior associate named Carlos, listening to conversations that confirmed my worst fears about legal practice.

“The Saguin case was so interesting,” Carlos was saying to the partner beside him. “Opposing counsel thought they had us on the environmental violations, but we found a procedural error in how the investigation was conducted. Got the whole thing thrown out.”

“What about the actual violations?” one of the other associates asked.

“What about them? Our client followed proper disposal procedures according to the regulations that were in effect at the time.”

“But didn’t internal documents show the company knew the disposal method was dangerous?”

“They’re internal documents for a reason,” he replied as a matter-of-factly. “Outsiders need not concern themselves with those documents—unless of course we’re summoned,” he said and then laughed.

Another partner likewise laughed. “Remember, what matters in court is what you can prove, not what actually happened.”

“Exactly. And what they could prove was that our client followed existing regulations—not our fault that the government’s stupid and slow.”

I felt my stomach turning. These weren’t cartoon villains celebrating the suffering of innocent people. They were professional lawyers discussing a successful defense of their client, but the casual dismissal of people who had been harmed, the focus on legal technicalities over actual justice, made me feel sick.

Tumayo ako at saka lumabas. I didn’t think I could stomach another minute in this table as they discussed cases like they’re just… theoretical. As if these didn’t involve real life of real people.

“You okay?” Martin asked.

Great.

Umalis na nga ako doon, sinundan pa ako dito.

“Just thinking,” I simply replied.

“About the Saguin case?”

“About whether I’m cut out for this.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Should I want to get used to it?”

Martin shrugged. “Depends what you want out of your career. If you want to make money and work on interesting cases, you get used to it. If you want to save the world, I guess join those NGOs.”

“Those are the only options?”

“Pretty much.”

Thankfully, Martin finally understood that I wanted to be left alone. I stayed outside for a few more minutes pero pagbalik ko, ganoon pa rin ang pinag-uusapan nila. Some of the partners and associates sharing stories about difficult cases, impossible clients, and legal victories that sounded more like defeats for justice. I listened and smiled and made appropriate comments, but inside I was spiraling.

Was this what legal practice really looked like? Was this what I’d been working toward for the past two years?

By the time I got home to the condo, I felt like I needed to talk to someone who could remind me that good lawyers existed. Someone who could help me make sense of what I’d experienced.

I called Mom.

“How was your week?” she asked when she picked up.

“Confusing.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Can you come over? Or can I come home? I just—I need to talk to someone who’s been doing this longer than me.”

“Of course you can always go here. This is your home,” she said.

For some reason, that made my chest constrict. “Okay… I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“You sure you’re okay to drive? You sound tired. Gusto mong ipasundo kita kay Sage?”

“Nope, it’s fine. Hindi pa naman ako inaantok.”

I didn’t even bother to change clothes dahil may damit naman ako sa bahay. I’d just sleep here. I needed to be reminded na may mga matitinong lawyers pa sa mundo.

“How’s your second week in work?” she asked. We were in the kitchen. It was almost 11PM. Mom prepared chamomile tea for me.

“I think I’m having an ethical crisis.”

“About what specifically?”

I told her about the merger case (I kept it vague because I really couldn’t discuss details with her. I signed non-disclosure agreement for the internship), about my supervisor’s lecture on client loyalty, about the dinner conversation where lawyers celebrated legal victories that felt like moral defeats.

“And now I’m wondering if I’m just naive,” I finished with a sigh. “If this is what legal practice really looks like and I need to accept it, or if there’s something wrong with the system.”

Mom was quiet for a moment, considering her response.

“What do you think the purpose of the legal system is?” she asked finally.

“To ensure justice.”

“Justice for whom?”

“For everyone.”

“But what happens when everyone’s idea of justice is different?”

I thought about it. “That’s why we have courts and laws and procedures. To decide between competing claims.”

“Exactly. And in that system, lawyers serve as advocates for different positions. Your job isn’t to determine what’s just—that’s the judge’s job. Your job is to present your client’s case as effectively as possible.”

“But what if your client’s case is wrong?”

“Wrong how? Legally wrong or morally wrong?”

“Morally wrong.”

“Then you have a choice to make. You can decline to represent clients whose positions you find morally objectionable, or you can separate your personal ethics from your professional obligations.”

“How do you do that?”

“Very carefully. And with the understanding that you have privilege that allows you to be selective.”

Mom set down her cup and looked at me directly.

“Saffron, you’re going to graduate from law school with excellent grades and strong family connections. You’ll have options that most lawyers don’t have. You can choose to work for firms that take cases you believe in, or start your own practice focused on clients you want to help.”

“But most lawyers don’t have those options?”

“Most lawyers have debt, family obligations, and limited opportunities. They take the jobs they can get and represent the clients they’re assigned.”

“Like Dad did.”

“Yes.”

The admission hung between us. We’d been dancing around Dad’s early career choices for months, but this was the first time Mom had acknowledged them directly.

“He didn’t have the luxury of being selective when he was starting out,” she continued. “He took the cases he could get, represented the clients who were assigned to him, built a reputation that eventually led to—” she paused.

“And the cost of that was what happened to Milo’s family.”

“Among other things, yes.”

I felt something settle in my chest. Not forgiveness, exactly, but understanding.

“I’m privileged enough to choose who I represent,” I said.

“You are. Your father worked very hard to give you that privilege.”

“Because he didn’t have it himself.”

“Because he didn’t have it himself.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I watched the tea steep in my cup, the color deepening as the minutes passed, and felt embarrassment seeping through me in the same slow, inevitable way.

This was what Milo had been trying to tell me. That he understood why Dad did what he did. That the world wasn’t as black and white as I’d thought from my moral high ground. But I’d been so sure of my own righteousness, so convinced that there were clear lines between right and wrong, that I couldn’t hear what he was actually saying.

I’d stood in my tower of moral superiority, looking down at everyone who made compromises, everyone who chose survival over idealism. I’d judged my father without understanding the pressures he’d faced. I’d judged the legal system without experiencing its complexities firsthand.

Experience really was the best teacher.

And apparently, I’d been a terrible student until now.

“What should I do about the internship?” I asked.

“Learn everything you can. Watch how different lawyers handle ethical questions. Figure out what kind of practice you want to build.”

“E iyong sa merger case?” I asked. I knew this would bug me for the rest of my life… kasi paano na iyong mga employees na ’yon? Hindi ba masyadong mahigpit iyong 3 years? And judging by what I knew so far, I knew they’d sue those employees who’d breach the agreement.

“Do your job. Represent your client’s interests competently and professionally. But remember what you’ve learned about the cost of legal technicalities,” Mom said. “You’ll make a great lawyer in the future, Saffron.”

“You think so?”

She nodded. “I know so,” she said. “You remind me so much of myself—only better.”

“What? Seriously?” medyo natawa na tanong ko.

She nodded again. “I asked those exact, same questions, but unlike you, it took me a while to come up with the answers.”

“I think it took me quite a while, too…”

Kasi kung mas maaga ko sanang naintindihan, hindi na sana kami umabot ni Milo sa ganito.

Kamusta na kaya siya?

God, I missed him so much.

---

After Mom left, I sat in the living room thinking about our conversation. The week had been difficult, but it had also been educational in ways I hadn’t expected.

I was learning what it meant to practice law in the real world, where perfect justice was rare and competing interests were the norm. I was seeing how lawyers rationalized decisions that harmed innocent people, and how good people could make choices that caused real damage.

But I was also learning that I had choices. That the privileges I’d inherited from my family gave me the freedom to practice law according to my own values, eventually.

Baka tama nga si Martin—swerte nga ako.

For now, I needed to finish the internship and learn everything I could. But I also needed to remember what I’d learned about the cost of those privileges.

Before going to bed, I walked to Dad’s study and knocked on the door.

“Bakit?” dad asked.

He was grading papers at his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose.

“Busy?” I asked.

Napa-tingin siya nang narinig niya iyong boses ko. Kitang-kita ko iyong pagka-bigla sa mukha niya. “Kanina ka pa dito?” he asked, the surprise and delight in his voice very evident.

Instead of answering, I walked over and hugged him. He set down his pen immediately, wrapping his arms around me with the kind of relief that suggested he’d been waiting for this moment.

“I love you,” I said into his shoulder.

I felt him stiffen, but he hugged me back. “Ano’ng meron? May ipapa-bili ka ba? Sabi ni Sage inubos mo na raw iyong pera niya, ah.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to understand,” I said as I hugged him closer.

“Understand what?”

“Why you made the choices you did. What it cost you. What you were trying to build for us.”

Dad’s arms tightened around me, and I felt him take a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry about the choices I made,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry sa nangyari sa inyo ni Milo”

“It’s fine,” I said with a small smile. “If kayo nga ni Mom nagbreak pero nagkabalikan din—”

“What? Hindi kami nagbreak ni Cha.”

“What? I thought when Kuya Dylan—”

“Hindi kami nagbreak,” Dad said. He faced me and that expression on his face told me na magkkwento na naman siya tungkol sa law school life nila ni Mom. “I mean, sure, pumunta sa Alaska si Cha kasama ang Tita Katherine mo, pero hindi kami nagbreak. Kasi alam ko na kami pa rin ang ending.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So… if sure ka sa isang tao, it’s okay to wait, right?”

Biglang natawa si Dad. “Yes, yes, Saffron, okay lang na hintayin mo si Milo.”

“What? I wasn’t talking about him kaya.”

“Hmm. Sige, sabi mo, e.”

“Tsk. Hindi nga. I don’t even know what he’s up to nowadays!”

“Really? Hindi ba sinabi ng Mom mo sa ’yo na nakita niya si Milo sa BGY nung isang araw?”

“What?! Really?! Why daw? Ano’ng ginagawa niya don?”

Dad laughed and he told me hindi niya rin alam. Apparently there’s a meeting and kasama lang si Milo don sa opposing counsel. And knowing Mom, she wouldn’t ask kung bakit nandon si Milo. I was certain na nakita lang talaga ni Mom.

“Well… at least he’s alive and breathing pa habang feel ko mamamatay na ako sa internship ko,” I said and then I began to rant to my Dad about sa dami ng pinapagawa sa akin.

“And I’m proud of the person you’re becoming. The choices you’re making,” he said after my long rant.

“Even when I make mistakes?”

“Especially when you learn from them.”

We stayed there in his study, surrounded by law books and case records and the accumulated wisdom of his legal career. For the first time since learning about his role in Milo’s family’s case, I felt like we were truly okay.

Not because I’d forgiven him—forgiveness was still complicated. But because I finally understood him. The pressures he’d faced, the choices he’d made, the person he’d become in response to those choices.

And because I understood that I had the privilege of making different choices, partly because of the sacrifices he’d made.

“Matulog ka na,” he said when I finally pulled back. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

“It is.”

“Magiging okay din lahat.”

“I know,” I replied with a smile, “Because like you, I’ll wait din.”

Walking back to my room, I felt something I hadn’t felt in months. Not happiness, exactly, but peace. The kind that comes from understanding where you’ve been and where you’re going.

I still missed Milo. I still believed we’d find our way back to each other eventually. But I also believed I was becoming someone worthy of that reunion.

This story is already completed at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 43

The final week of my internship at Aguirre Law felt different from everything that had come before. Not because the work was easier—if anything, I was handling more complex assignments as the Partners trusted me with bigger responsibilities, but my approach had changed completely.

Honestly, I was just doing my best… trying to cater to what the client wants but at the same time, I didn’t want to be too unfair to the employee. Ang hirap. Hindi talaga ako para sa corporate law—I couldn’t turn off my conscience and say that work is just work.

“This employment contract needs review for the client,” my supervisor said as she sent me link to the files that I needed to review. “Same drill as before—identify any liability issues, suggest clauses.”

I looked at the folder, but this time I didn’t feel that familiar knot in my stomach. “When’s the due?”

“End of week—before matapos ’yung internship mo.”

I spent the next three days going through the contract with the same thoroughness I’d always applied, but with clearer boundaries about what I was comfortable recommending. When I found clauses that seemed unnecessarily harsh to employees, I flagged them—not to argue against them, but to note potential litigation risks if the clauses were challenged.

This felt like playing chess against myself.

When I sent my output on Friday, I included alternative language that would protect the client’s interests while being less vulnerable to legal challenges.

“Hmm. Honestly, mas okay na ’yung contract review mo ngayon,” she observed, reviewing my suggestions.

“I applied your suggestions.”

“You did,” she replied. “Interesting comments and suggestions.”

I shrugged. “I can only suggest,” sabi ko. At the end of the day, client pa rin ang masusunod. And what can I say? I hate capitalism.

She studied my work for several minutes. “You know, this might actually fly. I think you covered all bases, but at the same time, you got what you wanted.”

“That was the goal.”

“You’ve learned a lot this internship.”

I had learned a lot, but not just about legal strategy. I’d learned where my own ethical lines were, and how to work within corporate law without completely compromising my values. It wasn’t perfect, but it was sustainable.

On my last day, Atty. Aguirre approached me about joining the firm after BAR exam as an underbar associate.

“You’d start as a underbar associate, obviously,” Atty. Aguirre explained. “But there’s a clear path to partnership for someone with your academic record and family connections.”

I smiled. Of course kasama na naman iyong pamilya ko sa job offer. “Thank you, Atty. I will think about it.”

“Do you have any area of practice you’re interested in?”

“Nothing certain yet,” I said. As much as I wanted to tell her that I absolutely had no interest in corporate law now that I’d tried it, I also understood that I shouldn’t burn bridges. Besides, Atty. Aguirre’s just doing her job… kagaya ng ibang mga abogado. At the very least, hindi ko naman siya narinig mag-brag kagaya nung ibang lawyers dito na akala mo e personal win nila kapag naaapi nila iyong opposing parties.

“Alright, but know that we always have a spot for you here.”

“Thank you, Atty. Will keep that in mind.”

“I hope you enjoyed your internship.”

“I did learn a lot,” I said. I learned a lot but I didn’t particularly enjoy.

“Think about the offer, Saffron. And good luck on your third year.”

“Thank you.”

I stayed for a few more minutes doon sa farewell dinner para sa mga interns. Then I made some excuse about having a family gathering which they didn’t really question. I knew my parents are well-known in legal circles, but now that I’m in the legal circle myself, mas narerealize ko how much of a big deal they actually are…

And it’s weird but also… wow?

But I guess instead of feeling burdened by it, I should just feel grateful that I have great lawyers to look up to. And as I drove home, I felt something I hadn’t experienced in months—genuine excitement about my future as a lawyer.

---

Third year started with a course load that felt like a completely different kind of challenge from anything I’d faced before. Tax 1 with a professor who was notorious for making students cry. Wills and Succession with a professor who expected us to memorize entire sections of the Civil Code. Labor Law 2, Torts and Damages, Intellectual Property Law, and Alternative Dispute Resolution—subjects that required not just memorization but real understanding of how law worked in practice.

“Tax is going to destroy our soul,” Rica ranted during our first week back. “Sir makes the Bar Exam look like a children’s quiz.”

“Wills and Succession isn’t much better,” Sheena added. “Sir expects us to know every single article about inheritance and family obligations.”

I shrugged. I mean, sure this year’s gonna be hard, pero hindi ba mahirap naman every year? And guess what? We’re still here.

“At least Labor Law 2 builds on what we learned last sem,” sabi ko na lang kasi ano? Sabihin ko sa kanila na ’wag na silang kabahan kasi as if may choice naman kami not to take those subjects. “And ADR sounds interesting.”

“You’re weirdly calm about this semester,” Rica observed. “Usually by now you’d have color-coded schedules and backup study plans.”

“I do have schedules. I just don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore.”

It was true. The workload was intense, probably the heaviest we’d faced so far, but I felt more capable of handling it. Maybe it was the confidence I’d gained from the internship, or maybe it was just that I’d learned to trust my own abilities without constantly comparing myself to others—kasi iba-iba naman kami ng priorities and journey. It’s just that hindi ako working student and wala din akong love life—like saan pa ba ako magfofocus?

Three weeks into the semester, as we were walking out of our Labor Law class, Sheena grabbed my arm.

“Okay, spill,” she demanded.

“Spill what?”

“Whatever happened to you over the summer. You’ve been slaying recitations like it’s nobody’s business.”

“I have not.”

“You have,” Rica confirmed. “In Tax, when Sir asked about the difference between tax avoidance and tax evasion, you gave this perfect answer about legal technicalities versus fraudulent intent. He actually smiled. I didn’t know his face could do that!”

“And in Wills, when Sir asked about legitime calculations, you worked through that complex inheritance problem like you’d been practicing family law for years,” Sheena added.

“I just studied.”

“We all studied. But you’re… different. More confident, I guess. Less frantic about being perfect.”

They were right, though I hadn’t really noticed the change myself. I was still working hard, still preparing thoroughly for classes, but the desperate need to be the smartest person in the room had faded. I was more focused on actually understanding the legal concepts than on impressing professors. Kasi in practice, it’s not about if you memorized those provisions verbatim but more of how you can apply those provisions to protect the client.

I guess I just have a new way of how I see things now? Less… bookish but more practical view?

Ha.

Kahit na-challenge iyong morality ko sa Aguirre Law, marami din talaga akong natutunan.

“Maybe I just got comfortable with not knowing everything,” I just said.

“That’s very zen of you,” Sheena said. “Also very unlike the Saffron from first year who had panic attacks when she got ninety-five instead of one hundred.”

“People change.”

“Good change, though. You seem… happier.”

I was happier. Not in the euphoric way that comes from external validation, but in the steady way that comes from feeling aligned with your own values and goals.

---

My weekends had settled into a rhythm that felt both productive and restorative. Saturdays usually started with tennis—I’d found a group of players who met at the court near Sage’s condo for informal matches. The skill levels varied wildly, but the atmosphere was friendly and competitive in a way that had nothing to do with law school stress.

“Ganda na ng backhand mo,” commented my coach after a particularly intense match one Saturday morning.

“Thanks, coach. My consistency really paid off.”

“Oo nga, e. Hindi ba sabi mo magiging busy ka ngayong third year.”

“I mean, yes, but I always have time for my hobbies.”

“Great. Mukhang malapit ka na talagang sumali sa sinasabi ko na informal match, ah. Solid na ng rally natin.”

The compliment made me smile, partly because tennis was one area of my life that was completely separate from academic achievement or family expectations. I was good at it because I enjoyed it and worked at it, not because I was trying to prove anything to anyone.

Saturday afternoons were usually spent with blockmates—group study sessions that actually involved studying, or trips to malls and movies that helped us decompress from the week’s academic pressure.

“Let’s go to Greenbelt after this,” Rica suggested one Saturday as we finished reviewing Torts cases at a coffee shop in Makati. “I need to buy Christmas gifts, and if I don’t start now, I’ll end up buying everything at the last minute like last year.”

“Christmas gifts already?” Sheena groaned. “Ang aga-aga pa.”

“You know what… that’s a great idea. I should start shopping na rin,” sabi ko kasi ang dami ko nga palang bibigyan ng gift! But as a broke law student, as usual, si Sage muna ang bahala sa akin.

We spent the afternoon wandering through shops, not necessarily buying much but enjoying the break from legal concepts and jurisprudence. These weren’t deep, life-changing conversations, but they were exactly what I needed—normal social interaction with people my age who understood the specific stresses of law school… although I miss my friends from outside law school din naman. I guess iba lang iyong bonding ko with Sheena and Rica since they both understood my stress sa law school.

Sunday evenings had become my time with family. No matter what, pupunta talaga ako sa bahay for dinner. It’s a great way to cap the week and start a new week.

“Okay ka na ba sa Tax?” Dad asked one Sunday over dinner at home.

I groaned. “No! It’s so hard! Barely hanging on a thread sa subject na ’yan.”

Dad laughed. “Okay lang ’yan. ’Di ko rin gets ’yan nung nag-aaral ako.”

“The concepts make sense individually, but like as a whole, it’s so confusing? Kaya kapag may recit, I always pray na ’wag akong matawag.”

“Because the tax laws were written by different people at different times with different policy goals, and nobody ever went back to make it all coherent.”

I groaned. “Super annoying.”

“Welcome to legal practice.”

These conversations with Dad had become one of my favorite parts of the week. We could discuss legal concepts without the weight of our personal history, and I could see how much he enjoyed having someone to share his expertise with.

“You seem like you’re finally enjoying law school,” Mom observed as we cleaned up after dinner.

“I know… I mean, it’s still as hard as ever, but it feels different. More sustainable.”

“Good. First and second year are about learning to think like a lawyer. Third year is about learning to be a lawyer.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Thinking like a lawyer is analytical. Being a lawyer is making choices about how to use those analytical skills in service of something larger than yourself.”

And she’s right.

I love having smart parents.

---

The BAR send-off ceremony was scheduled on the Friday before the first day of exam, and the entire law school had been buzzing with excitement. Law graduates who’d be taking the BAR exam were treated like celebrities, and the rest of us were expected to show up in full force to send them off with proper encouragement.

The hallways were transformed into a festival of school spirit—banners hanging from every building, loud beating of the drums, some alumni returning to show support. The energy was infectious but also overwhelming. Super ingay.

“This is so loud,” I complained to Rica as we tried to find our blockmates in the crowd.

“It’s supposed to be loud. It’s a celebration.”

“I know, but my ears are already ringing.”

We found the rest of our block near the area kung nasaan iyong bonfire, and I tried to get into the spirit of things. When the names of the baristers were announced, I cheered with everyone else. When they filed onto the stage to receive blessings from the dean and faculty, I applauded enthusiastically.

But after thirty minutes of non-stop noise—drums, chanting, hundreds of students yelling—I felt my enthusiasm flagging.

“I need some air,” I shouted to Rica over the sound of the marching band.

“Where are you going?”

“Just walking around. Balik ako later.”

I pushed through the crowd, looking for somewhere quieter where I could still hear the ceremony but without the overwhelming sensory assault. My feet carried me almost automatically toward the back of the law building, to the area near the parking lot where—

Where Milo used to smoke.

I realized where I was going just as I turned the corner and saw him standing there, cigarette in hand, looking out at the celebration from a distance.

We both froze.

“Sorry,” I said immediately, taking a step backward. “I was watching the program and it was so noisy and I didn’t know you’d be here—”

“Saffron.” His voice was calm, not surprised or annoyed. “This is your place, too.”

I stopped retreating, stunned by the simplicity of his response. In all the ways I’d imagined running into him—awkward encounters in hallways, tense conversations at school events—I’d never pictured this kind of casual acceptance.

Ito ba iyong sinasabi nila na mature break-up?

Should I be… happy?

What was I even expecting, really?

“I just needed to get away from the noise,” I said, still feeling like I needed to justify my presence.

“Same.”

He gestured to the empty bench nearby, and after a moment’s hesitation, I sat down. He remained standing, finishing his cigarette while we both listened to the distant sound of cheering and music.

This felt surreal. Here we were, months after our breakup, having what might be our first real conversation since that disastrous conversation at the hallway from before. I’d imagined this moment so many times—what we’d say, how it would feel, whether it would be awkward or painful or angry.

But this felt… normal.

Comfortable, even.

Ganito ba talaga dapat?

Kapag ganito ba… ibig sabihin naka-move on na completely?

But… I didn’t want that.

Kung ako lang ang masusunod, I’d call this as us on pause.

Kagaya ni Dad, I’d refuse to acknowledge na nagbreak kami ni Milo.

“How are you?” he asked finally, the kind of basic question you ask when you’re not sure what else to say.

“Good. Busy with third year classes. You?”

“Same. Mas may kaunting leeway kapag working class, but the pressure’s still the same.”

We were talking like polite acquaintances, like we hadn’t attended the same school for years, like we didn’t have a complicated history that made simple conversation feel loaded with meaning. But somehow, that felt safer than trying to acknowledge everything that had happened between us.

“How are your subjects?” I asked.

“Mahirap. I don’t like Tax.”

Agad na napa-tingin ako sa kanya. “Same!” Then I paused. I needed to curve my enthusiasm. This was Milo I was talking to. I took a deep breath. “Tax is hard… but I’m really enjoying ADR more than I expected.”

“Alternative Dispute Resolution?”

“Yup. Sir makes it actually interesting. All these different ways to resolve conflicts without going to court.”

“That sounds like it would appeal to you.”

“It does. You know before, I casually say na ‘I will you sue’ as a joke to my friends, but after my internship? Damn, ang hirap magdemanda. It’s so time-consuming. So, if pwede naman outside court i-settle, you know? At least we won’t clog the dockets.”

Milo looked at me with his forehead slightly creased. For some reason, that made me feel like baka may dumi sa mukha ko.

“What?” I asked, touching my face dahil baka may something.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Seems like your internship was very productive.”

“I mean, yeah. I was there from 9 to 6PM. Ang dami kaya nilang pinagawa sa ’kin.”

The conversation felt stilted, but not hostile. If anything, Milo seemed more relaxed than I’d expected. I studied his face, trying to read his expression, but he’d always been hard to interpret and the months apart hadn’t changed that.

“Are you nervous about the BAR?” I asked, because the BAR exam was something we both had to face.

“Medyo,” sagot niya. “But mostly I’m focused on getting through this year first.”

“Same. Sometimes I think about it and panic, but then I remember we still have two years to prepare.”

“The send-off ceremony is meant to inspire us, but mostly it makes me realize how much work is ahead of us.”

“Right? All those baristers look terrified despite the celebration.”

“They should be terrified. The BAR exam is hard.”

We both fell quiet, listening to the distant speeches and cheering. I found myself wondering if we’d be sitting here in two years, waiting for our own send-off ceremony, still talking like careful strangers.

“I finished my internship,” I repeated, partly to fill the silence and partly because I wanted to tell him about what I’d learned.

“How was it?”

“Educational. In ways I didn’t expect.”

“Good educational or bad educational?”

“Both.” I paused, trying to figure out how to explain everything I’d discovered about corporate law and ethical practice. “I learned what it feels like to be the lawyer on the wrong side of a case.”

Milo looked at me with more interest. “What do you mean?”

“I spent the internship drafting employment contracts that were technically legal but completely unfair to workers. Adding non-compete clauses that would prevent people from earning a living, minimizing severance packages for people who’d given years to their companies.”

“That’s law,” he said like he already knew how it works… na ako lang iyong ngayon lang narerealize how unfair things are.

“I know. But I learned something else.” I took a breath, trying to organize my thoughts. “I learned about privilege. About how I have choices that other lawyers don’t have.”

“Because of your family,” he said as a matter-of-factly.

“Because of my family. Because I don’t have debt or family obligations that force me to take whatever job pays the bills. Because I can choose to represent clients whose cases I actually believe in.”

Milo was quiet, listening.

“I understand now,” I continued. “What you meant when you said you understood why my dad did what he did. Because I saw how lawyers justify decisions that harm innocent people by telling themselves they’re just doing their job.”

“And?”

“And I understand that most of them don’t have the luxury of being selective. They take the cases they can get, represent the clients who pay them, build careers however they can.”

“Your father didn’t have that luxury when he was starting out.”

“No, he didn’t.”

We sat in silence for several minutes, the sound of celebration continuing in the distance. I felt like I’d said something important, but I wasn’t sure if Milo understood the full weight of what I was trying to communicate.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to understand,” I said finally.

“Understand what?”

“Everything. The complexity of legal practice, the pressure people face, the difference between legal and right.” I paused. “If anything, I’m just sad that I understood it too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“For us.”

The words hung in the air between us, more honest than I’d intended to be. Milo finished his cigarette and dropped it, crushing it under his heel.

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe understanding it now is exactly the right timing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that if you’d understood all of this months ago, it wouldn’t have meant as much. You needed to experience it yourself to really get it.”

“So the timing of our breakup was… what? Educational?”

“The timing of our breakup was necessary. For both of us.”

The certainty in his voice reminded me of something he’d said before, about knowing we’d find our way back to each other eventually. But I couldn’t tell if that’s what he meant now.

“We both needed to figure out who we were going to be as lawyers,” he continued. “And we couldn’t do that while we were still trying to figure out how to be together.”

“And now?”

“Now we focus on our third year and then review year and then the BAR. On becoming the lawyers we’re meant to be. On finishing what we started here.”

“And after that?” I asked… hopeful.

Milo looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“After that, we’ll see what happens. But I think… I think we’re both going to be ready for whatever comes next.”

There was something in his tone, something that suggested he wasn’t just talking about career prospects. But he’d always been careful with his words, and I’d learned not to read too much into casual comments.

The sound of applause from a distance indicated that the formal ceremony was ending. Soon, students would start dispersing, and our chance for private conversation would disappear.

“I should get back,” I said, though I didn’t really want to leave.

“Ako rin.”

We stood up together, and for a moment I thought about hugging him goodbye. But the careful distance we’d maintained during the conversation made physical contact seem inappropriate.

“Good luck with your classes,” I said instead.

“Good luck din.”

As I walked back towards the hallway, I felt something I hadn’t experienced in months—hope. Not the desperate, clinging kind of hope that had characterized the early days after our breakup, but something calmer and more sustainable.

Maybe Milo was right about timing. Maybe understanding each other now, after we’d both grown and changed independently, was more valuable than understanding each other when we were still figuring ourselves out.

Maybe some things were worth waiting for.

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Chapter 44

Fourth year felt different from the moment I walked into the law building on the first day. There was a heaviness in the air, a collective understanding that this wasn’t just another academic year—this was the year that would determine whether the past three years had been worth anything at all.

Review year.

BAR preparation.

The final stretch.

Wow.

Parang kahapon lang nagsabi pa lang ako sa parents ko na decided na talaga ako na mag-e-enroll ako sa law school… and now we’re here. Ang bilis nga ng panahon.

Like usual, I’d been waking up at 5:30AM, arriving at the library by 7AM to secure a good study spot before the rush. The library had become a second home to most law school students, and prime real estate—tables near outlets, good lighting, minimal foot traffic—was claimed early and defended fiercely. Or in my case, I felt like I didn’t need to do that at all… First year pa lang, dito na talaga ako naka-pwesto. It’s almost like an unwritten rule na dito naka-pwesto si Saffron Rose Borromeo.

So, I was just doing my thing… and it was during my second week of this routine that I started noticing him.

Almost everyday, ako iyong pinaka-una sa library. Once settled, I’d put my headphones on, play some static noise, and focus my full attention on studying. I rarely pay attention sa ibang nangyayari sa library dahil sa dami ng kailangan kong aralin… but then one afternoon, as I was stretching my neck dahil kanina pa ako nagbabasa, napa-tingin ako sa isang gilid.

And there he was.

Even from a distance, he looked so serious. I gave myself the opportunity to stare at him. Minsan ko na lang kasi siya makita. It wasn’t as if iniiwasan ko siya o iniiwasan niya ako… I was almost always in the library if not in the classroom… and dadating lang siya sa school kapag magsstart na iyong klase niya. There was no chance for us to meet.

So, I guess it was okay for me to stare at him now.

But then the same thing happened the next day.

So, the next day, inabangan ko siya.

He got in the library a few minutes after 8AM. The moment he arrived at the library, nagtama agad iyong mga mata namin—like he knew where I’d be and he wanted to see me first thing… but perhaps that was only all in my mind.

Right.

Kasi mukhang ilang linggo na na nandito siya palagi—

Huh?

Maybe his work schedule had changed. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

But after a week of seeing him there every single day, the questions became harder to ignore… Curiosity was killing me. Ano’ng nangyari sa trabaho niya?

I sat on my usual seat—the opposite side of the library from him, close enough to be aware of his presence but far enough to avoid awkward encounters. We’d nod politely when our paths crossed kapag naglalakad kami o kaya kapag sabay kami na lalabas ng library, but we maintained the careful distance we’d established since the BAR send-off.

He told me to focus on reviewing… and I was doing so well until I realized that finally, he’s around me again.

So, I found myself glancing in his direction more often than I should have. He looked different—more relaxed, maybe, but also more focused in a way that suggested he wasn’t dividing his attention between studying and other obligations.

By the third week, my curiosity finally overcame my hesitation.

I needed to know kung ano iyong nangyari sa trabaho niya.

I just finished three rounds of pomodoro when I saw him alone at his usual table, reviewing what looked like Constitutional Law notes. The area around him was quiet, and for once there weren’t other students hovering nearby waiting for tables.

“Hi,” I said, approaching carefully. Naupo ako doon sa vacant chair near him.

He looked up, and for a moment I saw surprise flicker across his face before his expression settled into polite attention. “Hi.”

“Uh… I’ve been seeing you here a lot lately. Every day, actually.”

“Same could be said about you.”

“Right, but…” I hesitated, not sure how to phrase the question without sounding like I’d been monitoring his schedule. “Hindi ka naman usually nasa library nag-aaral, right? I mean, what about work?” I asked. I just asked. There’s no other way to ask this.

“I resigned,” he said simply.

The words hit me with unexpected force. “You resigned? From your job?”

“Last month. Before magstart ’yung fourth year.”

I stared at him, trying to process this information. Milo had been working since I’d known him—it was such a fundamental part of his identity that imagining him without that obligation felt strange. Heck, he’d work even on weekends… kahit magpa-cute ako sa kanya before, kapag work, he’d really leave me sa apartment niya because… work.

“Why?” I asked, then immediately felt like I was overstepping. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Fourth year is demanding. Gusto kong magfocus sa review at BAR prep.”

It was a logical explanation, but it raised other questions that I wasn’t sure I had the right to ask. How was he paying for school? For living expenses? Had his family situation changed? Okay na ba sila ng relatives niya? He did mention before that they were offering to help him… pumayag ba siya? But knowing Milo, he’d rather resort to working physical labor kaysa lumapit sa kamag-anak niya.

So… nagresign lang talaga siya.

May enough money kaya siya? Was he eating well?

Milo must have seen the questions on my face because he continued without prompting.

“I saved enough over the past two years. Plano ko talaga na magfull time student ng fourth year.”

“You planned this?”

He gave a small nod. “From the beginning. I knew I’d need complete focus for BAR preparation, so I worked extra hours, saved every peso I could.”

The casual way he said it made me realize how carefully he’d orchestrated his entire law school experience. While I’d been struggling with family drama and relationship complications, he’d been preparing and saving up for this moment.

And to think that when we were still together, lagi pa rin siya iyong nagbabayad ng food…

He really was a good boyfriend.

A strange mix of emotions washed over me. Admiration for his planning and discipline. Sadness that he’d had to sacrifice so much just to have what most students took for granted. And something else—something that felt uncomfortably like loss.

If we were still together, this would have been the year I’d imagined. Going to school together, studying together, walking to class together, sharing the intense pressure of BAR preparation. All those small domestic moments I’d pictured but never got to experience.

“That’s smart,” I said, because I needed to say something and because it was true.

“No choice,” he replied.

“I know… demanding ng fourth year.”

Milo just gave me a small nod. I sat there for a moment, both of us clearly aware that this was the longest conversation we’d had since the BAR send-off. It felt significant but also fragile, like we were both being careful not to push too hard.

“Well,” I said finally, “I guess I’ll be seeing more of you around here.”

“Looks like it.”

As I walked back to my table, I tried to ignore the way my heart was beating faster than normal. This changed nothing, I told myself. We were still broken up, still maintaining appropriate distance, still focused on our individual goals.

But the thought of seeing him every day, of sharing the same space during the most intense period of our academic careers, felt like both an opportunity and a dangerous temptation.

---

Over the next few weeks, we settled into parallel routines that felt like an elaborate dance of proximity and avoidance. I’d arrive at 7AM, while he’d arrive a few minutes past 8AM. I’d take breaks for coffee, I’d see him walking in between shelfs while muttering something na para bang may mine-memorize siya. I’d stay until before my class started. He’d still be there when I leave—probably mas late nagsstart iyong class niya. I didn’t ask.

We didn’t talk much beyond polite greetings, but I became acutely aware of his patterns. He took breaks every two hours. He preferred annotated books in the morning, codals in the afternoon. He always brought lunch (usually sandwich) but bought coffee from the café sa may new law building.

It was the coffee observation that gave me an idea I immediately tried to talk myself out of.

“Good morning,” the barista said when I approached the counter on a particularly stressful Thursday morning. I had a brutal review session on tax law with some of my blockmates (which I really hate and despise), and I desperately needed caffeine kasi anong oras na kami natapos kagabi.

“Hi. Can I get an iced coffee, no sugar, and a hot coffee, black?”

The order was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I stood there feeling ridiculous while the barista prepared both drinks, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for why I’d have two coffees.

When she handed me both drinks, I felt like everyone in the café was watching me, though logically I knew no one cared what I was drinking.

I walked slowly back toward the library, my heart pounding with what felt like teenage nervousness. Bakit ba ako kinakabahan? May dala lang naman ako na coffee. I mean, technically bawal magdala ng coffee sa library, but never pa naman ako pinagalitan.

Tsk. Why was I overthinking this? This was stupid. This was presumptuous. This was going to be awkward and embarrassing and I should just drink both coffees myself and bahala na na magpalpitate ako or throw one away or—

“Excuse me.”

Milo looked up from his notes as I approached his table, both coffee cups in my hands.

“The barista heard my order wrong,” I said, the lie coming out smoother than I’d expected. “She gave me two coffees instead of one, and I remembered you always order black coffee, so…”

I held out the hot coffee, trying to look casual despite the fact that my palms were sweating.

Milo looked at the coffee, then at me, then back at the coffee. For a moment I thought he was going to refuse it, and I prepared myself for the humiliation of walking back to my table with both drinks.

Instead, he took the cup and said, “Thanks.”

“No problem. I mean, what was I going to do with two coffees?”

“Right. Thank you, Saffron.”

I lingered for a moment, trying to think of something else to say. Milo looked at me. Wala akong masabi. Milo gave me a small nod before he turned back to his notes. I retreated to my table feeling simultaneously triumphant and mortified.

The next day, I found myself ordering two coffees again.

“Same thing happened,” I told Milo when I brought him the second cup. “I don’t know what’s wrong with that barista.”

This time, he smiled slightly. “Unlucky.”

“Very unlucky.”

By the third day, it had become routine. I’d order two coffees, bring one to Milo with some comment about the barista’s confusion, and he’d accept it with increasing amusement.

“You know,” he said on Friday morning, “you might want to speak to the manager about training their staff better—parang laging may mali sa order mo.”

“I probably should. This wrong order thing is getting ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous,” he agreed, but there was something in his tone that suggested he wasn’t entirely buying my story—I mean, honestly, who would believe me?

The coffee routine evolved over the following week. Sometimes I’d bring him a muffin that had been ‘accidentally included’ in my order. Sometimes it was a sandwich that was ‘definitely not what I ordered.’ Milo accepted each offering with the same slight smile and growing skepticism.

“Hindi pa ba nalulugi ’tong coffee shop?” he asked one morning as I handed him yet another ‘incorrectly prepared’ order.

“I know, right? Magreklamo na ba ako sa manager?”

“You should.”

“I will.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

We both knew I was never going to complain, just like we both knew the orders weren’t actually mistakes. But the pretense gave us an excuse for these small interactions, and neither of us seemed willing to break the fiction.

---

Three weeks into our coffee routine, I was having a particularly difficult morning with Tax Law (my nemesis) when I noticed someone approaching Milo’s table. A girl from our year—I recognized her since konti na lang naman kami ngayong review year, but couldn’t remember her name—was standing next to his chair with a notebook in her hands.

I tried to focus on my readings, but I found myself glancing up repeatedly as their conversation continued. She was standing closer to him than seemed necessary for a simple academic question. And she was smiling too much. And she was touching her hair while she talked.

Why was she touching her hair?

Again, Milo wasn’t even that funny! Bakit ba maraming tumatawang babae sa paligid niya?

The conversation stretched on for what felt like forever but was probably only ten minutes. I watched as she leaned over to point at something in his notes, her arm brushing against his shoulder. I watched as she laughed at something he said, the sound carrying across the quiet library.

I tried to return to my reading, but the words blurred together as I found myself wondering what they were discussing that required such an extended conversation. And such close proximity. And such frequent hair-touching.

Tss.

Fourth year na siya—for sure kaya niyang aralin ’yan mag-isa. Hindi ba niya naisip na baka nakakaabala siya sa nagrereview?

By the time she finally walked away, I was in a thoroughly bad mood that I couldn’t entirely explain or justify.

The next morning, I ordered only one coffee.

“Good morning,” the barista said. “The usual two coffees?”

“Just one today. Iced, no sugar.”

I took my single coffee and settled at my table, pointedly not looking in Milo’s direction. I had work to do. Important work. BAR preparation work that didn’t involve delivering unnecessary beverages to people who were perfectly capable of buying their own coffee.

I made it through the morning without glancing at his table once.

At lunch, I escaped to the small garden behind the law building where I could eat my sandwich in peace and fresh air. The space was usually empty during class hours, so I was surprised when someone sat down on the bench next to me.

“Where’s my coffee?”

I turned to find Milo settling beside me, close enough that I could smell his familiar cologne but far enough that we weren’t touching.

“What?” I asked, though I knew exactly what he was referring to.

He held out his palm expectantly. “My coffee. Saan na?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The coffee you bring me every morning because the barista keeps making mistakes.”

“Oh, that. The barista got my order right today. Finally.”

“Interesting timing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s interesting that the barista suddenly became competent the day after you saw my blockmate talk to me.”

I felt my face heating up. “Hindi ko alam kung ano ’yang sinasabi mo.”

“The girl who was at my table yesterday.”

“I wasn’t watching anything. I was busy studying kaya.”

“You were watching.”

“I was not.”

“You were definitely watching.”

I turned to look at him directly, prepared to deny his accusation more forcefully, but the expression on his face stopped me. He wasn’t angry or annoyed. If anything, he looked amused.

“She was asking about the recitation coverage,” he said. “That’s it. Ten minutes of reviewing which cases we need to know para sa recitation.”

“I don’t care what she was asking about.”

“No?”

“No. It’s none of my business.”

“Then why no coffee this morning?”

“I told you, the barista—”

“Saffron.”

The way he said my name, gentle but direct, made me stop talking.

“She was asking about school. That’s all. And even if she wasn’t…” He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “You shouldn’t be jealous.”

I scoffed. “I’m not jealous.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re jealous, and you shouldn’t be, because no one compares to you.”

The words hung in the air between us, more honest than anything either of us had said since the BAR send-off. I felt my heart do something complicated in my chest.

“Milo—”

“I’m not saying we should get back together now,” he continued quickly. “I’m not saying anything about timing or what happens after the BAR or any of that. I’m just saying that you don’t need to worry about other girls talking to me.”

I stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said and what it meant. “You think no one compares to me?” I asked kasi parang iyon lang ang nagprocess sa utak ko.

“I know no one compares to you.”

“Even though we’re not together?”

“Especially because we’re not together.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense. Breaking up didn’t change how I feel about you. It just changed what I could do about those feelings.”

My coffee cup was suddenly very interesting. “So… what does that mean?”

“It means you don’t have to manufacture wrong coffee orders to have an excuse to talk to me. And it means you definitely don’t have to stop bringing me coffee because other girls ask me about school.”

“The orders really are wrong sometimes,” I said weakly.

“Sometimes?”

“Fine. She’s actually competent. I really just order two coffees on purpose.”

He laughed. Ang gwapo talaga. “I know.”

“You know?”

“I’ve known since the second day. No barista is that consistently incompetent.”

I felt my face burning with embarrassment. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I liked having an excuse to talk to you, too.”

We sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, both of us processing this admission. The garden was quiet except for the distant sound of foot traffic and the occasional voice from students walking between buildings.

“So,” I said finally, “coffee tomorrow?”

“Definitely.”

“And maybe a muffin? I have terrible luck with pastry orders.”

“The worst luck imaginable.”

“It’s really a problem.”

“A serious problem that definitely has nothing to do with wanting to do nice things for people you care about.”

“Nothing at all to do with that.”

As we walked back to the library, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. We weren’t getting back together—that much was clear. But we weren’t pretending to be strangers anymore either.

And for now, that felt like exactly the right place to be.

But, if anything, watching Milo during this intense period of preparation—seeing his discipline, his focus, his quiet confidence—only reinforced everything I’d fallen in love with in the first place.

I also understood, in a way I hadn’t before, that timing really did matter. That some things were worth waiting for. That becoming the people we needed to be individually was more important than rushing back into something we might not be ready for.

The BAR exam was only months away. After that, we’d be lawyers, adults with careers and responsibilities and the kind of clarity about our futures that we’d been lacking when we were just students figuring themselves out.

After that, maybe we could figure out what came next.

For now, it was enough to know that he thought no one compared to me. It was enough to bring him coffee every morning and pretend it was an accident. It was enough to study in the same space and share the pressure of preparing for the most important exam of our academic lives.

It was enough to know that whatever happened next, we’d both be ready for it.

This story is already completed at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 45

The coffee routine had evolved into something that felt both natural and significant—I mean, it was a significant part of my day. Every morning at exactly 8:15, I’d approach Milo’s table with two cups of coffee, and he’d look up with that small smile that made my day feel manageable. We’d established a rhythm that neither of us questioned anymore.

“Wrong order ulit?” he’d ask, even though we both knew the truth.

“You know it. Terrible, terrible service,” I’d reply, and he’d take the coffee with a quiet ‘thank you’ that always sounded more meaningful than it should have.

But by the third week of our honest coffee arrangement, I found myself wanting to do more.

Ganon siguro talaga kapag love mo, noh? You always want to do more for that person. Because honestly, I felt like Milo’s been dealt with bad cards by life… so I guess I just wanted to do something, anything to lessen the burden.

Kaya kahit medyo nalilito ako at naguguluhan sa ganitong set-up na hindi kami pero alam namin both na gusto namin ’yung isa’t-isa, I didn’t want to take any of his attention away from reviewing for the BAR.

And sabi nga nila, all in right time.

I guess I’ll just wait until it’s the right time since alam ko naman na na siya iyong right person.

“Good morning,” I said, approaching his table with the usual cup of coffee plus a small paper bag.

“Ano ’yan?” Milo asked, eyeing the bag.

“Oh, I made too much breakfast this morning. Scrambled eggs and toast. Hindi ko kaya ubusin lahat, and I hate wasting food.”

It was partially true. I had made extra breakfast. What I didn’t mention was that I’d deliberately made enough for two people.

Milo opened the bag and found the food neatly packed in containers, complete with a small bottle of orange juice.

“Niluto mo ’to?”

I frowned a little. “Don’t sound so surprised. I can cook basic stuff.”

“Ha… That’s new.”

I frowned harder. He laughed a little. “I’m learning. Living alone forces you to figure things out.”

He took a bite of the eggs and nodded approvingly. “Edible.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Tss. You can just say thanks, noh.”

He laughed. “Thank you, Saffron.”

I bit the insides of my mouth to stop myself from smiling kasi nagthank you lang naman siya. Bakit ba kilig na kilig na agad ako?

I tried not to let his thank you affect me as much as it did, but the satisfaction I felt watching him eat something I’d made was harder to ignore than I’d expected.

The next day, I brought sandwiches. “Made too many again,” I said with what I hoped was casual indifference.

“You have a portioning problem,” Milo observed, but he was already unwrapping the sandwich.

“Yup. Apparently.”

By the end of the week, it had become routine. I’d arrive with coffee and some variation of breakfast or lunch, always with the excuse that I’d made too much or miscalculated portions. Milo accepted each offering without question, though I could see him growing more worried about it.

“Saffron,” he said one morning as I handed him a container of carbonara I’d made the night before. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yup.”

“Are you spending a lot of money on this? All the food, the coffee every day?”

I felt my face heat up. My first instinct was to joke that it was fine because it was Sage’s money anyway, but I stopped myself. That would sound spoiled and dismissive of his concern. I promised myself na kapag ganito, before saying anything, I would always think twice, thrice before I say anything. If something bothers Milo, I wanted to take it seriously no matter how small they might seem—because if it bothers him, it’s not unimportant at all.

“It doesn’t cost much,” I said instead. “I mean, I’m still learning how to cook, and it’s hard to portion everything correctly. I always make too much, and I don’t really like eating the same thing for days in a row, so you’re actually helping me by eating it. Otherwise, it would just go bad in my fridge.”

I was talking too fast, saying too much, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

I knew I sounded defensive, but it’s partially true…

“Plus, cooking for one person is hard. All the recipes are for multiple servings, and you can’t really halve ingredients like eggs or—”

“Saffron.”

I stopped talking.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said gently. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going out of your way.”

“I’m not,” I lied.

“Okay.”

But we both knew I was going out of my way. The question was whether he minded, and based on the way he always finished everything I brought him, I was pretty sure he didn’t.

What I couldn’t tell him was that beyond wanting to take care of him, I was also trying to help him conserve money in the only way I could without offending his pride. I knew he was living off savings, and while he’d planned for this year, every peso he didn’t have to spend on food was a peso he could use for other things.

But explaining that would mean acknowledging that I was worried about his finances, which would probably make him feel pitied or patronized. So, I stuck with the cooking excuse and hoped he understood the real motivation behind it.

That I wish for his success—always.

So, I hoped it’s okay if I do these little things to help him in my own way.

---

After a while, our interactions weren’t limited to the library anymore.

Sometimes, when our classes ended at the same time, we’d walk to the parking lot together. These weren’t planned encounters—just coincidental timing that neither of us seemed to mind. Ayoko rin naman siyang hintayin sa labas ng classroom niya. I really didn’t want him to feel burdened. I kept on telling myself na enough na na alam niya na gusto ko pa rin siya… and it should be enough for me na alam ko na mahal niya pa rin ako.

I needed to wait.

“How was your class?” I asked one time as we made our way papunta sa parking lot.

“Okay naman, pero ang hirap ng five hours class na diretso. At one point, wala na akong maintindihan.”

“I know! But wala kayong break in between?”

“Wala.”

My lips parted. “What? That’s so hard. Binibigyan kami ni sir ng 15 minutes para maglakad-lakad. He knew na after a while, wala na kaming naiintindihan sa mga nangyayari sa class niya.”

We discussed our subjects, playing around the safe topics. It’s fine. As long as kausap ko siya, we could talk about anything and I would never get bored.

We reached my car, and I found myself not wanting the conversation to end. Milo seemed to feel the same way because he didn’t immediately say goodbye.

“So,” I said, fishing for a reason to extend our time together. “Paano ka uuwi?”

“Commute.”

The urge to offer him a ride was overwhelming, but I held back. We’d found a balance that worked, and I didn’t want to push too hard and ruin it.

“Okay. Ingat ka,” I said finally, “See you tomorrow morning?”

“Coffee at 8:15?”

“If the barista messes up my order again.”

“I’m sure she will.”

I bit my lips, but the smile still won. He smiled back at me. Then I watched him walk toward the main gate, and only when he was out of sight did I get in my car and drive home.

---

“Okay, what’s the deal with you and Milo?” Sheena asked one Thursday night as we packed up our things after the review class.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you two have been talking again. A lot. And yesterday I saw you walking to the parking lot together.”

“We’re just being civil. Mature post-breakup behavior,” sabi ko habang nilalagay pa rin iyong gamit ko sa bag ko.

“That’s not what it looked like,” Rica added. “It looked like flirting.”

“We’re not flirting.”

“You were laughing at something he said. You had that face.”

“What face?”

“The face you used to get when you were crushing on him. All soft and happy.”

I felt my cheeks burning. “I don’t have that face.”

“You definitely have that face,” Sheena insisted. “So, what’s really going on?”

“Nothing’s going on. We’re just… I don’t know. Friendly.”

“Friendly,” Rica repeated, scoffing.

“Friendly,” I insisted.

But even as I said it, I knew they weren’t buying it. Probably because I wasn’t entirely buying it myself.

The truth was, I didn’t know what we were. More than strangers, less than a couple. Something that felt significant but undefined.

And honestly, I was okay with that uncertainty.

For now.

Because the moment na malagay ko ’yung last period sa sagot ko sa BAR exam, best believe that I would be asking him what are we— pride be damned.

“Just be careful,” Sheena said as we walked toward the exit. “I know you still have feelings for him.”

“I’m always careful.”

“No, you’re not. You’re many things, but careful when it comes to Milo isn’t one of them.”

She wasn’t wrong.

But being careful felt less important than being honest about what I wanted.

And what I wanted, increasingly, was more time with Milo.

---

I started posting more on Instagram—nothing obvious, just pictures of my coffee, my study setup, random shots of school. Normal student life documentation—also, people needed to be reminded na may magandang kakambal si Sage.

Then, I noticed that Milo was always among the first people to like my stories.

Always.

Na para bang naka-on iyong notifs niya sa akin.

I’d post a picture of my breakfast at around 9AM, and by 9:05AM, his name would appear in the viewer’s list. I’d share a photo of some random things I bought (since recently, naka-retail therapy ako sa sobrang stress), and within minutes, the little heart would appear with his username.

It was such a small thing, but it felt like a connection. Like he was paying attention to my life in a way that went beyond our daily coffee exchanges.

One evening, I posted a picture of the sky from my condo’s balcony with the caption ‘study break’.

A few minutes later, I received a notification. I immediately clicked on the notif. Ngayon lang ako naka-receive ng notif na nagpost siya. My fingers were even slightly trembling.

It was a photo of the view from his apartment window—the same view I used to stare at for hours nung pwede pa akong magstay sa may apartment niya… The view looked exactly the same, familiar buildings silhouetted against the evening sky. I remembered sitting on his couch, law books forgotten, just watching the lights come on across the city as the sun went down.

I loved that view. The way the light changed throughout the day, how peaceful it looked even though we were in the middle of everything. I’d spent countless evenings there, studying or talking or just being together, always with that view as our backdrop.

Without thinking, I hearted his story.

It wasn’t much of an interaction, but it felt like more than we’d been doing. Like we were slowly rebuilding intimacy in tiny increments—sharing pieces of our daily lives, acknowledging each other’s presence in small but meaningful ways.

---

This month marked the start of Milo’s birthday month.

I stared at the calendar. There was a recurring event—and even when we ‘broke-up’ hindi ko binura sa calendar ’yon. I guess… kahit nung nagbreak kami, I never wanted to remove him from my life.

I’d remembered the date from when we were together, though he’d never made a big deal about it. He didn’t have family to celebrate with, and he’d always been private about personal milestones. But this year felt different.

I felt bad kasi last year, I merely sent him a happy birthday message… kasi weird naman if papadalhan ko siya ng gift.

This year, I wanted to celebrate it.

The problem was figuring out how to do it without overstepping whatever boundaries we’d established.

We weren’t together. We weren’t exactly friends. We were something undefined that included daily coffee and food sharing and increasingly comfortable conversations, but I wasn’t sure where birthday celebrations fit into that dynamic.

I kept on overthinking things.

Then, finally, the day of his birthday arrived.

Earlier today, I went out. I picked-up the cake I custom-ordered for Milo. I also bought a balloon na may naka-lagay na happy birthday.

I already texted Milo ng happy birthday kanina. He already replied with thank you. I wanted to ask him if may plano ba siya for his birthday… I was 99% sure na wala siyang plano. Sure din ako na bukod sa mandatory cake na binibigay sa work niya, wala siyang ibang gagawin for his birthday.

Still, ito ang mahirap kapag hindi ka girlfriend! Ang hirap biglang magpakita sa apartment niya and tell him what? I wanted to celebrate your birthday?

Tsk.

But by 11PM, I found myself in my car, driving toward his apartment with the cake and the balloon I’d bought that afternoon.

The cake was simple—chocolate flavored with ‘happy birthday, atty. delgado’ written in blue icing. The balloon was equally straightforward, just ‘happy birthday’ in silver cursive letters. Nothing too romantic or presumptuous, but something to mark the day.

I parked outside his apartment building and sat in my car for ten minutes, second-guessing everything. This was crazy. This was too much. He probably wanted to spend his birthday alone, and here I was showing up uninvited with cake like some kind of—

My phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Nandito ka ba sa labas?” Milo’s voice came through the speaker.

I looked up at his building and saw him at his window, phone pressed to his ear. What… the fuck? Bakit siya naka-tingin sa labas ng bintana niya? Did I tell him na pupunta ako dito? Or… was he expecting na pupunta ako dito? I had so many questions!

I chewed on my lower lip. “Maybe.”

“Ano’ng ginagawa mo d’yan?”

“Sitting in my car having an existential crisis about whether showing up at someone’s apartment with a birthday cake is appropriate behavior.”

“It’s my birthday?” he asked. He sounded like he was kidding… although with Milo, I wouldn’t be surprised if nawala sa isip niya na birthday niya… kasi fuck wala na nga pala siyang work ngayon! That meant no obligatory birthday cake from work! Good thing na pumunta ako dito. He needed a cake for his birthday kahit hindi siya ma-celebrate na tao.

“It’s your birthday.”

“And you brought cake?”

“I brought cake. And a balloon. The balloon was probably overkill.”

There was a pause, and I held my breath waiting for his response.

“Wait there,” he said finally. “Pupuntahan kita.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Unless you want to eat that cake alone in your car.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

As I waited for him, I checked my reflection on the mirror. I honestly didn’t think too much—at least sa itsura ko. I was just wearing a pair of maong cut off shorts, loose white shirt, and my white Crocs. I didn’t even have any make-up on… Suddenly, I was more thankful than ever for inheriting my mom’s clear complexion.

When I saw Milo approaching, mabilis na binuksan ko iyong box ng cake and sinindihan iyong maliit na candle.

My heart pounding with each of his step. This was either going to be perfectly fine or spectacularly awkward, and I wouldn’t know which until he got here.

“Happy birthday,” I said, holding up the cake and balloon, when he opened the door of the car.

“You actually brought a balloon.”

“I told you it was overkill.”

He just smiled. “Thank you, Saffron.”

I pursed my lips. “No big deal,” I said. “I hope chocolate is still okay. I wasn’t sure if your preferences had changed.”

“I still like chocolate. Though I have to ask—did you make this, or is this another case of ordering too much from a bakery?”

I wrinkled my nose. “I actually bought this one. I’m not quite ready to attempt baking a cake from scratch.”

“Okay,” he said with that smile that I love so dearly.

Milo asked me if I wanted to go to his apartment. My mouth ran faster than my brain. I immediately said yes. I got out of the car. Milo carried the cake and the balloon.

I felt… like I was finally home again when I got inside his apartment. I missed this place so much. It’s been over a year since I was last here… Some things changed, but it still felt the same way. It still felt like home.

“Wait lang,” I said as I gestured toward the cake. Hindi ko pa siya nakakantahan ng happy birthday.

“Bakit?”

Instead of answering him, I went to where he usually places his lighter and grabbed it. Sinindihan ko ulit iyong candle. I began to sing happy birthday. He was looking at me as I sang. God, I love this guy. I love him so much. Sana maging lawyer na kaming dalawa. I wanted to be with him again. Hindi ko naman birthday, pero pwede ba na ako iyong magkaroon ng wish?

“Happy birthday, Milo,” I said after ko matapos kumanta. “Any birthday wish?”

Milo was quiet for a moment, staring at me and seeming to consider the question seriously.

“Just one,” he said finally.

“What is it?”

He looked at me across the small table, and something in his expression made me catch my breath.

“I want to kiss you.”

The words hung in the air between us, honest and direct in a way that was so purely Milo that I felt my heart skip.

“That’s… your birthday wish?”

“That’s my birthday wish,” he confirmed.

I set down the cake and looked at him—really looked at him. The careful distance we’d maintained, the gradual rebuilding of connection, the daily coffee routine and shared meals and Instagram likes had all been leading to this moment.

“Well,” I said, standing up and moving around the table toward him, “birthday wishes are supposed to come true.”

He stood up to meet me, and for a moment we just stood there, inches apart, both of us trembling with the weight of what was about to happen. I could see the want in his eyes, the same longing I’d been carrying for months but had been too afraid to acknowledge.

When our lips finally touched, it felt like coming home and starting over at the same time. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, both of us remembering the shape of each other’s mouths. But then the months of separation, of careful politeness, of pretending we didn’t still love each other, crashed over us like a wave.

His hands came up to frame my face, thumbs tracing my cheekbones like he was memorizing me all over again. I could feel the slight tremor in his fingers that told me he was as affected by this as I was.

“Saffron,” he breathed against my mouth, my name sounding like a prayer.

I responded by pressing closer, my hands fisting in the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him toward me like I was afraid he might disappear if I didn’t hold on tight enough. We kissed like we were trying to make up for lost time, like we were finally admitting what we’d both been feeling but hadn’t been ready to say.

When his tongue swept across my lower lip, I opened for him without hesitation, and the taste of him made me dizzy with want. This wasn’t the desperate, uncertain kissing of our first relationship. We were a bit older now, more sure of ourselves and what we wanted, and that certainty made everything more intense.

His hands tangled in my hair, and I could feel the gentle pressure of his fingers against my scalp, the way he used to touch me when we’d study together and he’d play with my hair absent-mindedly.

“I missed this,” I whispered against his lips when we broke apart for air, both of us breathing hard.

“I missed you,” he said, and the raw honesty in his voice made my chest tight with emotion.

When we kissed again, it was deeper, more urgent. I could feel the longing in the way his hands moved down to my waist, pulling me flush against him. Could feel it in the small sound he made when I bit gently at his lower lip. Could feel it in the way we both seemed afraid to let go, as if breaking contact might break whatever spell had finally brought us back together.

We moved to his couch without breaking the kiss, stumbling slightly because neither of us wanted to stop touching long enough to navigate properly. When we finally settled against the cushions, me half in his lap, we were both trembling.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, needing to hear him say it.

“Are you?” he asked, his forehead resting against mine.

“With you? Always,” I replied.

We kissed again, slower this time, savoring it. His hands were in my hair, on my face, tracing patterns on my arms like he was relearning the geography of my body. And I was doing the same—remembering the texture of his skin, the way his breath hitched when I kissed the sensitive spot just below his ear, the quiet sounds he made that told me he was as lost in this as I was.

The kisses were different than they’d been when we were younger—less desperate, but more intentional. We kissed like we understood now what we’d been too young to fully appreciate before—that this connection between us was rare, worth protecting, worth fighting for.

“I love you, Saffron,” Milo said against my lips, the words barely audible.

“I always love you, Milo.”

And in that moment, with his arms around me, the taste of him on my lips, and the promise of whatever came next hanging in the air between us, I knew that some things really were worth waiting for.

This story is already completed at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 46

Two weeks before graduation, I was a nervous wreck.

I’d been checking my phone every five minutes since waking up, refreshing the law school facebook page repeatedly. I didn’t even want to check the block groupchat kasi mas lalala lang iyong anxiety ko. My hands were actually shaking as I scrolled through social media, trying to distract myself but failing miserably. Not even memes could make me laugh!

“Saffron, relax,” Milo said from across the table of the coffee shop where we’d been attempting to study. Milo was ‘confident’ na gagraduate kami. He said it’s better to prepare na for the BAR.

“What if I don’t make it?” I said for probably the tenth time this morning alone. “What if there was some clerical error? What if I missed a requirement somewhere? What if may bagsak pala ako na subject? Remember nahirapan ako sa finals sa COMM?”

Milo looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not joking,” I said, frowning.

“You’ve been number one in our batch since first year,” he said like he was confused kung bakit ako kinakabahan.

“Pero what if—”

“What if what? What if the entire university suddenly decided to change how grades work just to mess with you specifically?”

I glared at him. “You don’t understand. This is important.”

“I understand that you’re being ridiculous.”

“I am not being ridiculous.”

“You are absolutely being ridiculous. If there’s anyone in this entire law school who’s guaranteed to graduate, it’s you. Hell, they’d probably let you graduate even if you failed half your subjects, kasi ayaw nilang mawala iyong BAR bet nila.”

I looked at him, pouted, and sighed. Milo reached for a cookie and fed me that. Afterwards, I tried to focus on my Constitutional Law notes, but the words kept blurring together. My phone buzzed with a text from Rica asking if the list was up yet, and I immediately switched to the school facebook account again.

“Saffron.”

“What?”

“Put the phone down.”

“I’m just checking—”

“You’ve checked fifteen times in the past hour. The deliberation is scheduled at 1PM. It’s currently only 11:30AM.”

“I know what time it is.”

“Do you? Because you’re acting like someone who’s lost all concept of linear time.”

I set my phone face-down on the table and tried to glare at him, but he was smiling that small, amused smile that always made me feel both annoyed and fond at the same time.

“You know what?” he said, closing his book and standing up. “Let’s go.”

“Go where? We have studying to do.”

“Basta. Tara.”

“Saan nga tayo pupunta?”

Milo looked at me and said, “Date.”

One word.

I immediately felt my face heating up.

I bit my inner cheeks. “Fine…” sabi ko habang inaayos iyong gamit ko. “But if I miss the announcement because we’re out on a date, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.”

---

The mall was crowded with the usual mix of teenagers, families, and people who clearly didn’t have anything better to do on a Wednesday afternoon. Milo seemed determined to keep me occupied, which meant we wandered through stores we’d normally skip—but instead of just looking around aimlessly, he was actually steering us toward clothing boutiques.

“Did… I tell you I wanna go shopping today?” I asked as we entered our third clothing store. I mean, super stressed ko lately that I might forgotten na sinabi ko sa kanya na magsshopping ako? Kasi normally, hindi ko kasama si Milo kapag nagsshopping ako. First, super tagal ko mamili ng gusto kong bilhin. Second, although I want to spend time with him, honestly, I’d rather shop with my friends.

“No.”

“Okay… then, do you need to buy something?” I asked.

I tried—I really did try na bilhan siya ng damit before. Milo’s mom had impeccable taste. Although konti lang iyong damit ni Milo, they’re very good and they’re made to last. Kaso syempre gusto ko pa rin siyang bilhan ng clothes… but then again, I never really could.

So, I was confused by his sudden interest in retail therapy, but I tried to go along with it. I browsed through racks of women’s clothing without much enthusiasm, checking my phone every few minutes to see if it was getting closer to 1PM.

That’s when I spotted it—a navy blue button-down shirt that would look perfect on Milo. It was simple but well-cut, the kind of thing that would work for presentations or job interviews or any occasion where he needed to look professional.

“Try this,” I said, grabbing the shirt and holding it up in front of him.

I expected his usual response—some version of “ di ko kailangan ng bagong damit “ or “ I have enough shirts .“ Milo was practical about his wardrobe, rotating between a few really good pieces rather than accumulating things he didn’t need.

But instead, he just looked at the shirt, then at me, and said nothing.

“What do you think?” I pressed. “This color would look great on you.”

Still nothing. Which was weird, because Milo always had opinions about everything.

“Come on,” I said, pushing my luck. “You could use something new for job interviews after the BAR.”

“Fine,” he said finally.

“Fine?” I asked, a bit surprised.

“I’ll try it on.”

I stared at him. “Really? Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“…why?”

“To keep you distracted.”

The realization hit me like a brick. He wasn’t suddenly interested in shopping—he was trying to keep my mind off the graduation list. We were wandering aimlessly for the past couple of minutes. This was all part of his plan to prevent me from having a nervous breakdown.

Well, if he wanted to distract me by letting me buy him clothes, I was absolutely going to take advantage of this opportunity.

“In that case,” I said, grabbing the shirt and heading toward the men’s section with renewed energy, “we’re really doing this.”

Twenty minutes later, I had accumulated an armful of potential outfits for Milo. Dress shirts in different colors, a few polo shirts, some casual button-downs that would work for everyday wear. I was having the time of my life playing dress-up with Milo, especially since he was being unusually cooperative.

“This one, too,” I said, adding a white dress shirt to the pile. “And this one. Oh, and this gray one.”

“Saffron, that’s a lot of shirts.”

“You said you’d let me distract myself with shopping. I’m being very thoroughly distracted,” I said, grinning.

“I can see that.”

I found a cute cardigan that would match one of his shirts perfectly. “And I need this.”

“That’s not my size,” he said.

“It’s my size. We’re going to match.”

“We’re going to match?”

“Yup. We’re going to coordinate,” I told him.

By the time we made it to the dressing room, I had collected outfits for both of us. Milo disappeared into a changing room with his armload of clothes while I waited outside, holding my own purchases and feeling genuinely excited about something that wasn’t related to graduation anxiety.

This was fun. When was the last time I’d done something purely fun, without any academic purpose or stress-related motivation?

“How’s the first shirt?” I called through the dressing room door.

“Okay naman,” he simply replied. I rolled my eyes. See? This was why I prefer to shop with friends!

“How does it look?”

“Like a shirt.”

“That’s not helpful. Come out and show me.”

“Tignan ko muna kung kasya iyong iba.”

“Fine, but I want to see them all.”

I sat down on the bench outside the dressing rooms, scrolling through my phone—not to check for the graduation list, but to look at the photos of Milo that I took earlier. This was so much fun! Sa future kaya kapag pareho na kaming may magandang work, he’d let me buy him more clothes? Because I want to spend money on him as much as he wants to spend on me. I hope one day he understands that.

It was taking Milo a long time in there. I could hear him moving around, the rustle of fabric, the sound of hangers clinking together.

“Milo? Everything okay in there?”

“Yeah, just… give me a minute.”

More rustling sounds. Then silence.

“Milo?”

The dressing room door opened, and he stepped out wearing one of the dress shirts I’d picked—the navy blue one that had started this whole shopping spree. It looked even better on him than I’d imagined.

But he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at his phone.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, and then I noticed his expression. Not worried, not upset, but something I couldn’t quite read.

He stepped closer to me, still holding his phone, and turned the screen so I could see it.

St. Claire’s Academy College of Law Candidates for Graduation.

My whole body froze.

My eyes scanned the list… but I didn’t have to go that low.

Borromeo, Saffron Rose V. - Class Valedictorian

Delgado, Maximiliano Jose R. - Class Salutatorian

I stared at the screen, reading our names over and over again, not quite believing what I was seeing.

Sobrang anxious ko na ba that I was starting to see things?

“Is this real?” I whispered.

“It’s real.”

“We both made it. With honors.”

“With highest honors.”

“You’re salutatorian, Milo,” I told him.

“You’re first in our entire class,” he said. “I always knew you’re the smartest.”

I felt my cheeks heating up. “So, you do admit that I am smarter?” I teased.

Milo cupped my face, looked around, and when he saw that there weren’t any prying us, gave me a quick peck on the lips. “I always knew you were the smartest.”

I felt like my chest was tightening as the seconds passed by. “We did it,” I breathed.

“We did it.”

And then I was crying again, right there in the middle of a boutique, because we had actually done it. Four years of law school, all the stress and studying and uncertainty and self-doubt, and we had both not just graduated but excelled.

“Baka isipin nila pinapaiyak kita,” Milo said, but he was smiling as he said it.

“I’m not crying.”

“You’re definitely crying.”

“These are happy tears.”

“I know. But you’re still crying in public.”

“I don’t care. We’re valedictorian and salutatorian. I can cry wherever I want.”

He laughed, and I realized this was exactly how I’d wanted to find out. Not anxiously refreshing a facebook page by myself, but with him, sharing the moment, celebrating together.

“We should probably buy these clothes,” he said, gesturing to the shirt he was wearing since it was covered with my happy tears.

“We should definitely buy these clothes. This is going to be your salutatorian shirt.”

“My salutatorian shirt?”

“The shirt you were wearing when you found out you were salutatorian. It’s historically significant now.”

“If you say so.”

“I definitely say so.”

As we headed to the checkout counter with our arms full of new clothes, I felt like I was floating. The graduation list was posted, the anxiety was over, and we had both exceeded every expectation.

Everything else could wait. Right now, we were just two people who had accomplished something incredible, standing in a clothing store, planning to coordinate our outfits like the completely ridiculous people we had apparently become.

And I couldn’t have been happier about any of it.

---

Graduation day arrived faster than I’d expected and slower than I’d wanted. The two weeks had been a blur of speech writing, final arrangements, and the strange feeling of law school actually coming to an end.

Totoo nga iyong sinasabi nila na ang bilis lang ng panahon—parang kahapon lang e nag-e-enroll lang ako sa law school tapos ngayon, graduation ko na.

The ceremony was held in the school’s main auditorium, with families packed into the seats and graduates arranged in neat rows near the stage. I kept looking for Milo in the crowd of caps and gowns, finally spotting him three rows behind me and slightly to the left.

When my name was called as valedictorian, the applause was thunderous. I could hear my family cheering from the audience, could see Dad standing up to clap. But when I looked back at the other graduates, the person I was looking for was Milo, who was smiling that proud, genuine smile that made my chest tight with emotion.

My speech went better than I’d expected. I talked about growth, about how law school had taught us not just to think like lawyers but to question what kind of lawyers we wanted to be. I talked about justice and service and the responsibility that came with our degrees, and of course, thanked my family for the unwavering support… and Milo.

But when Milo took the podium as salutatorian, his speech was different from mine in a way that was purely him.

“Four years ago,” he began, “I started law school with very specific goals. I wanted to understand how the legal system worked. I wanted to learn how to fight for people who couldn’t fight for themselves. I wanted to become the kind of lawyer who could make a difference.”

He paused, scanning the audience.

“I accomplished those goals, but I learned something else along the way. I learned that the most important lessons don’t always come from textbooks or professors. Sometimes they come from the people who challenge you to be better than you thought you could be.”

My heart started beating faster.

“I want to congratulate my fellow graduates, especially our valedictorian, Saffron Rose Borromeo.” He looked directly at me. “No one deserves this honor more than you. You’ve worked harder than anyone I know, and you’ve never lost sight of what this degree is really for—serving others.”

The audience applauded, but Milo wasn’t finished.

“Saffron, you’ve been my girlfriend, my study partner, my opponent, and my biggest supporter. You’ve challenged me academically, supported me personally, and loved me even when I didn’t think I deserved it. Everything I’ve accomplished in law school, I owe to you. Thank you.”

I was crying. Actually crying during graduation, which was embarrassing but completely unavoidable. He’d just publicly declared his love for me, credited me with his success, and done it all with the kind of direct honesty that was so purely Milo that my heart felt like it might burst.

The rest of his speech was about justice and hard work and the importance of using our degrees responsibly, but I barely heard it. I was too busy trying not to sob in front of hundreds of people.

When the ceremony ended and we were officially graduates, the chaos of families and photos began immediately. But before I could get swept up in congratulations, Milo found me in the crowd.

“Nice speech,” I said, still sniffling slightly. “Hindi mo sinabi sa akin na ako pala ang main topic ng speech mo,” I continue but Milo just pinched my cheek.

“You’re crying.”

“I’m not crying.”

“You’re definitely crying.”

“Okay, I’m crying. But it’s your fault for being so… you.”

“Sorry for being me.”

“Don’t apologize. I love you being you.”

“I love you, too.”

We would have kissed again, but we were immediately surrounded by classmates wanting photos and congratulations. Sheena suggested we do a photoshoot together—valedictorian and salutatorian, the top two students in our class.

“We should do it,” I said. “For posterity.”

“For posterity,” Milo said, but I knew that he was just humoring me.

We spent a couple of minutes taking photos in various combinations—serious academic shots, candid laughing ones, formal poses with our diplomas. I posted a few of them on Instagram immediately, tagging them with graduation hashtags and a caption about finishing law school.

After photos with classmates and professors, I spotted my family making their way through the crowd toward us. Mom was carrying a huge bouquet of flowers, Dad looked proud enough to burst, and Sage was taking photos of everything with his phone.

But it was Lily who caught my attention. She was holding a second bouquet—different flowers than what was Mom holding, but still beautiful.

“Congratulations, Saffron,” Mom said, handing me the flowers. “We’re so proud of you.”

“Valedictorian,” Dad said, shaking his head in amazement. “Wow, manang-mana ka talaga sa ’kin.”

I laughed. “I think I got this from Mom,” I said, kidding. “Thanks, Dad.”

Sage tousled my hair which made me frown. “Congrats,” he said. “Sana magka-work ka na para may sarili ka ng pera.”

I stuck my tongue out. “You’re wrong if you think I’ll stop asking you for money kahit may sweldo na ako.”

He frowned at me and my dad just laughed at us two.

As we were laughing, Ate Lily stepped forward, and I realized the second bouquet wasn’t for me.

“Milo,” she called.

He turned, looking surprised to be addressed directly by my sister.

“Congratulations,” she said, handing him the flowers. “Salutatorian. That’s incredible.”

The look on Milo’s face was something I’d never seen before. Surprise, gratitude, and something that looked almost like disbelief. He took the flowers carefully, like he was afraid they might disappear.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “You didn’t have to—”

“Of course we had to,” Mom interrupted, stepping forward to congratulate him as well. “Congratulations, Milo.”

Dad looked at Milo. “Salutatorian. That’s an achievement to be really proud of.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I watched Milo’s face as my family congratulated him, and I could see how much it meant to him. He’d spent most of his life having his achievements go unnoticed, celebrating milestones alone. Having an entire family acknowledge his success, bring him flowers, treat him like someone worth celebrating—it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

“Pictures,” Sage announced, wielding his phone like a professional photographer. Huh. At least may silbi na si Sage. He knew that we needed to take photos for moments like this. I completely forgot na ibilin sa kanya before na kumuha ng maraming pictures—buti nasanay na siya sa akin.

We took photos in every possible combination. The whole group together. Just the Borromeo family. Me, Sage, and Ate Lily. Me, Sage, Ate Lily, and Milo. Me and Milo. Milo with my parents. Each photo felt significant, like we were documenting not just graduation but the integration of Milo into our family.

“Dinner?” Mom asked when we’d exhausted Sage’s photo-taking energy. “We made reservation at that restaurant you like, Saffron.”

“Yes, definitely. Milo, you’ll come, right?” I asked, hopeful. I knew I wanted to celebrate with my family, but I also wanted to celebrate with Milo… pero maiintindihan ko rin kung ayaw niyang sumama ngayon.

I held my breath waiting for his answer. Dinner with my entire family was a big step, and I wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d felt overwhelmed and wanted to decline.

“I’d like that,” he said. “Thank you for including me.”

“You don’t need to thank us,” Mom said. “You’re the class salutatorian. That’s worth celebrating.”

---

Dinner was at a nice restaurant in Makati, the kind of place my family went for special occasions. The conversation flowed easier than I’d expected, helped by the celebratory atmosphere and the fact that everyone was genuinely happy.

“May plano ka na ba for the BAR review?” Mom asked Milo over appetizers.

“Sa Juris po, Ma’am,” Milo said. One of these days sana tanggalin niya na iyong Ma’am sa pagtawag niya kay Mom. But one step at a time.

“Ikaw, Saffron?” Mom asked.

“Hmm… baka sa Legal Verge.”

They didn’t ask further kung bakit sa magkaibang review center kami ni Milo. I think my whole family’s still… walking on egg shells. But that’s fine. Kagaya nga ng sabi ko, one step at a time.

Then we talked about other things. The conversation was natural, comfortable, like Milo had always been part of these family dinners.

After dinner, as we stood outside the restaurant saying our goodbyes, I made a decision.

“Sage, can I borrow your car keys?”

“Bakit na naman?”

“I want to drive tonight.”

“Ilang sasakyan ko ba ang kukunin mo?”

I pouted. “Please? It’s my graduation and I want to drive my boyfriend around and you can ride home with Mom and Dad.”

Sage looked between me and Milo, then sighed and handed me his keys. “She’s very expensive and exasperating,” he told Milo.

Natawa si Milo. “I know. I’ll work hard to afford her.”

I felt my cheeks heating up again. Sage acted like he’s vomiting. Tsk. Kapag talaga nagka-girlfriend ’yan, he won’t hear the end from me!

I hugged my parents goodbye, promising to see them tomorrow and thanking them again for including Milo in the celebration. Then Milo and I walked to Sage’s car, both of us quiet but content.

When I opened my phone, nagulat ako nang makita ko na super daming likes and comments nung pictures namin ni Milo. Apparently, the photos have been shared across multiple social media platforms. Apparently, people found something appealing about the story of valedictorian and salutatorian who were also a couple.

Weird now that I was trending not because I am Sage’s sister but because… I am Milo’s girlfriend?

“We’re trending,” I told Milo.

“Ha?”

“‘Couple goals.’ People are calling us couple goals.”

“That’s weird.”

“That’s cute.”

“It’s weird that strangers are commenting on our relationship.”

“It’s cute that people think we’re inspirational.”

“I guess we are pretty inspiring.”

“We are extremely inspiring,” I told him. “If alam lang nila how hard I worked to get you.”

Milo raised an eyebrow. “You worked hard to get me?”

“Very hard. Do you know how many coffee orders I had to pretend were wrong? How many extra portions of food I had to cook? The mental gymnastics I had to do to justify showing up at your apartment with birthday cake?”

“You showed up at my apartment once.”

“Once was enough. That took months of psychological preparation.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m dedicated. There’s a difference.”

He scrolled through more of the comments on my phone. “Listen to this one: ’ Law school power couple! Goals! ’”

“See? Goals. That’s us.”

“And this one: ’ Imagine studying together and both graduating top of your class. Kaya siguro di ako valedictorian dahil wala akong poging jowa .’”

I laughed. People online could be funny at times.

Milo kept reading. “ ‘I need someone to look at me the way the salutatorian looks at the valedictorian in these photos.’ “

“How do you look at me?”

“Like you’re slightly crazy but I’m fond of you anyway.”

I frowned. “That’s not romantic at all.”

“It’s accurate.”

“You’re supposed to look at me like I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.”

“I do look at you like that.”

“When?”

“When you’re not paying attention.”

I felt my cheeks warming up. “Really?”

“Really. If I looked at you like that when you were paying attention, you’d never get any studying done.”

“I might be okay with never getting any studying done.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You even sulk kapag pakiramdam mo mababa iyong recit grades mo.”

“I would not.”

“You had a panic attack about whether you’d graduate, and you were literally valedictorian.”

“That was justified anxiety.”

“That was neurotic overthinking.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” I said. He laughed and handed me back my phone. “Wait, read one more comment.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to see if anyone else appreciates how hard I worked to get you.”

“Nobody knows how hard you worked to get me except me.”

“And do you appreciate it?”

“I appreciate it every morning when you bring me coffee that you definitely ordered on purpose.”

“Good. Because it was a lot of work.”

“I know. Thank you for working so hard to get me.”

“You’re welcome. You’re worth it.”

“Am I?”

“You’re valedictorian material, too, you know. I just got there first.”

“That’s not how class rankings work, Saffron.”

“That’s exactly how class rankings work in the game of love.”

“The game of love?”

“The game of love. And I won.”

“You definitely won,” he said, leaning in and giving me a soft kiss.

---

After flirting for a while (and after figuring out kung paano gamitin ’tong sasakyan ni Sage), I finally was able to start the engine.

“Where to?” Milo asked.

“Drive around first. I want to see the city.”

“Any particular part of the city?”

“All of it. I want to see all of it.”

We drove through Manila in comfortable silence, both of us processing the events of the day. Graduation was over. Law school was officially finished. We were both graduates, both moving toward the BAR exam, both starting the next phase of our lives.

“I can’t believe you thanked only me in your speech.”

“I meant every word of that speech.”

“I know. That’s why I cried.”

“You cry at everything.”

“I do not cry at everything.”

“You cried watching that action movie.”

“There was a sad part!”

“The main character’s best friend died. That’s standard action movie tragedy.”

“It was emotionally manipulative and effective.”

“You have the emotional fortitude of tissue paper.”

I frowned. “I have appropriate emotional responses to emotional stimuli.”

“Umiyak ka din nung binilhan kita ng donut kahapon.”

“I was stressed about graduation!”

“You cry when you’re happy, when you’re sad, when you’re stressed, when you’re relieved—”

“Okay, fine. I cry easily. But you love that about me.”

“I love everything about you.”

The light turned green, and I drove us through the streets where we’d spent the last four years. Past the university, past the coffee shops where we’d studied countless hours, past the restaurants where we’d grabbed quick dinners after classes.

“Saan tayo papunta?” Milo asked again as I turned down a familiar street.

“You’ll see.”

I parked at the overlook where we’d had our first kiss (makeout session), back when we were just figuring out what we meant to each other. The city spread out below us, lights twinkling like we were looking at a postcard.

“Remember this place?” I asked.

“First kiss.”

“First momol,” I corrected him. I grinned when I saw Milo’s ears turned red. I grinned. Ang cute niya talagang kiligin!

We got out of the car and sat on the hood, looking out at the view that had witnessed the beginning of our relationship.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” Milo said.

“Feels like yesterday.”

“Both.”

“Yeah. Both.”

We sat there in comfortable silence, both of us thinking about how far we’d come. From enemies to friends to lovers to where we were now—law school graduates, BAR exam candidates, people who’d grown up together in all the ways that mattered.

“What happens now?” I asked.

“Now we study for the BAR.”

“And after that?”

“After that, we become lawyers.”

“And after that?”

“I don’t know. But whatever we’ll choose to do, we’ll do it together.”

I leaned against his shoulder, feeling the weight of the graduation flowers in my lap and the promise of everything that was coming next.

“Together?”

“Together.”

We sat there until the city lights blurred together and the night air got too cool, talking about our plans and dreams and the future we were building together. It felt like an ending and a beginning at the same time—the close of one chapter and the start of something even better.

Four years of law school were over.

Everything else was just beginning.

This story is already completed at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 47

Two weeks after graduation, the reality of BAR review began to reshape our entire existence.

Initially, naisip ko na deserve naman siguro namin ng kahit isang linggong bakasyon. I was prepared to make a proposal kay Milo na magbakasyon kami, but then I saw him one time staring intently at his phone. I tiptoed lightly para sana gulatin siya… but then I saw that he was staring at his online bank account.

I really didn’t mean na makita iyong current available balance niya—I never really ask about his finances because that’s a sensitive subject. Hindi pa naman kami magpapakasal—there’s no need to discuss finances at this stage of our relationship. Besides, Milo’s a provider through and through. He’s so generous. I could never ask for more.

Mabuti na lang at hindi niya ako napansin—he really was in deep thought… probably thinking on how to stretch the budget even more dahil may ilang buwan pa kami na magrereview.

I felt guiltier than ever kapag nagrereklamo ako na mababaliw na ako sa condo and inaaya ko siya na magreview kami sa coffee shop. And Milo being Milo, he’d even buy my coffee for me.

I really couldn’t wait for him successful—he deserves to spend money without worrying kung kailan iyong next pay check.

But for now, all I could do was to diligently review beside him. Success will soon be ours—we just needed to persevere. Sabi nga nila, one last push.

Maaga akong dumating sa Legal Verge. It occupied an entire building in Makati, and from the moment I walked through its doors on that first Monday morning, I knew the next months would be unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The subjects I studied for months, now, I’d study in a few days. Kaya expected ko na na masakit ang ulo ko palagi.

Even the coordinator’s welcome speech was brief and terrifying—’ Monday through Saturday, 8AM to 5PM, continuous lectures. Saturday afternoons are mock BAR. That will be your life in the next months .’

Milo was facing the same intensity at Juris. We decided na sa magkaibang review center kaming dalawa not out of any strategic consideration, but simply because ’di lang kami magkasundo sa kung saan kaming dalawa dapat. I liked the repetitive review style and iyong pop quiz sa Legal Verge habang si Milo, mas gusto niya iyong lectures sa Juris.

It’s fine. Hindi naman kailangan na lagi kaming magkasama. We survived more than half of our law school life na hindi kami magka-block. We’d be fine. Bonus na rin na pwede kaming magshare ng review materials.

The first day of the proper review nearly broke me. Akala ko sanay na ako… I mean, I practically lived in the library buong law school life ko. But eight hours of continuous lectures with only brief breaks for meals and bathroom trips was killing me. My fingers cramped from note-taking, my back ached from plastic chairs, and my brain felt like it was operating at maximum capacity with no room for anything else.

Sukang-suka na agad ako.

“How was day one?” I asked Milo when we met for dinner that evening. We’d agreed to meet halfway between our review centers, partly for convenience and partly because we both desperately needed to see each other after surviving our first day—at least that’s the reason for me. Pagod na pagod na agad ako, but seeing Milo’s face would make my day a little better.

“Pagod,” he said, looking as drained as I felt. “Diretso ’yung lecture sa Rem. Buti may recording nung lecture kasi half-way, hindi ko na naiintindihan iyong sinasabi ng lecturer.”

I reached for his face and caressed his cheek with my thumb. “Same sa LV. We did have a quiz, tho. Buti na lang pinilit mo ako magreview last week, so naka-sagot ako kahit papano.”

We ate in exhausted silence, both processing the reality of what we’d committed to. This wasn’t law school anymore, where we had semesters to absorb material gradually. This was intensive cramming designed to prepare us for a single exam that would determine our professional futures.

Talk about immense pressure.

Nakaka-suka talaga.

The pressure was different for each of us, but equally overwhelming. As valedictorian and daughter of BAR topnotchers, everyone expected me to sail through review and pass easily on my first try. The weight of those expectations felt heavier with each passing day.

For Milo, the pressure was more… heavy and suffocating. Kahit hindi niya sabihin sa akin, I knew that he thought that he couldn’t afford to fail. He’d depleted his savings during our final year of law school, and there was no family money to fall back on for a second attempt at the BAR.

He’s probably thinking that this was his one shot.

“At least tomorrow’s Tuesday,” I said as we prepared to leave the fast food resto.

“What’s so special about Tuesday?”

I shrugged as I anchored my arm with his and bahagya kong sinandal iyong ulo ko sa braso niya habang naglalakad kami. “I guess… a day closer sa weekend?”

“We have mock BAR on Saturday.”

I groaned. “I’m trying not to think about tthat.”

He tousled my hair. “Not thinking about that won’t make it go away.”

“I know. I can’t wait na matapos na ’tong BAR season.”

By the end of the first week, we’d developed a survival routine. Review center during the day, dinner together in the evening, then studying at one of our places until we were too exhausted to absorb any more information. Most nights, we were both too tired for much conversation, but being in the same space helped remind us that we weren’t going through this alone.

The first Saturday mock BAR was a preview of what we’d be facing in September. Four hours of essay questions not just knowledge but the ability to think quickly under extreme pressure.

I stared at the first essay question—I felt like this was supposed to be a ‘basic’ civil procedure question—but I felt my mind go completely blank. This was my worst fear: knowing the material but freezing when it mattered most.

I was so fucking tired.

“I know this,” I whispered to myself. “Just think, Saff.”

Slowly, the relevant legal principles came back to me. I started typing, and once I began, the knowledge flowed more naturally. By the end of four hours, I’d managed to answer all questions with legal basis and felt cautiously optimistic about most of my answers.

When results were posted Monday morning, both Milo and I had scored in the top percentiles at our respective centers. The relief was enormous, but short-lived. This was just the first of many mock BAR, and the real test was still months away.

“Good job on the mock BAR,” I told Milo over dinner that Monday night.

“Thanks,” he replied and planted a soft kiss on my cheek. “You, too, as expected.”

“Of course. Duh. Power couple kaya tayo,” I said as I rested my head against his shoulder. Damn. Pagod na pagod ako. Parang ito iyong everyday mood ko. “But I’m so tired. Baka ang ika-bagsak ko sa BAR ay hindi dahil I don’t know the answer, but because I passed out while taking the exam.”

“Just pace yourself,” Milo said.

“I’m trying. This review is so demanding.”

“I know. Matatapos din ’to.”

“Baka mas mauna akong matapos.”

Milo just quietly rubbed my arm. That felt so comforting. This BAR season was extremely hard and demanding but knowing that I was doing this with Milo? It made everything a lot more bearable…

“We’re going to pass,” I told him.

“I can’t afford not to pass,” he said. The seriousness in his voice immediately caught my attention. Hindi ako nagsalita. I quietly listened to his words. This… was the first time he was talking about the BAR. I knew the risk, what’s at stake, but it’s different when he’s opening up about this.

I knew that he loves me, he cares about me, but I also knew that he’s not the kind of person who can just easily talk about his problem. I felt like this was because he grew up na hindi humihingi ng tulong dahil sa relationship niya with his relatives.

But I knew that Milo’s doing his best to unlearn those.

Kasi alam niya na nandito lang ako lagi para sa kanya.

All he has to do is ask.

“If I fail, that’s it—at least for a while. I can’t take another year off, can’t pay for another review center.”

The weight of his situation hit me again. My family could support another year of review if necessary. For him, failure meant delay of his dream of becoming a lawyer.

“You’re not going to fail,” I said firmly. “You’re scoring well, you’re working harder than anyone, and you’re smart enough to handle whatever they put in front of you.”

“I know but—”

“No ‘what ifs.’ We’re both going to pass, and then we’re going to be lawyers, and we’ll look back on this as the worst months that led to the best outcome.”

He reached and squeezed my hand. “When did you become the optimistic one?”

“When I realized that panicking isn’t going to help either of us pass the BAR.”

He looked at me and smiled. “Right.”

“Right, so you know? Let’s just do our best. One day at a time just like when we were in law school.”

---

As the weeks progressed, the intensity only increased, but so did the support from my family. Mom started preparing care packages for both of us—homemade meals, vitamins, fruits, always with notes reminding us to take care of ourselves (I know Dad wrote those notes).

“Please tell Tita na salamat sa pagkain,” Milo said one evening as he unpacked his weekly care package at my condo. Dumaan kanina sila Mom dito. Hindi na namin sila naabutan kasi first of all, hindi naman sila nagsabi na dadaan sila… although I should’ve expected kasi weekly naman sila pumupunta to bring food para sa amin ni Milo.

“Is that okay?” I asked, pertaining to the fact na family na rin ata ang turing sa kanya ng family ko… Sage sometimes refer to him as brother-in-law.

“It’s more than okay. I’ve never had someone worry about whether I was eating enough.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I worry about your meals kaya!” I said and pouted.

Milo laughed. “I mean, other than you.”

“Tss. You’re taking me for granted na.”

“Never,” he said as he grabbed my hand, pulled me close, and began kissing me… and just like that, nakalimutan ko na kung anuman iyong sasabihin ko sana.

---

During our Sunday family dinners, which had become routine, Dad would check on both our progress. They were just casual questions like he just wanted to know kung okay lang kami. Surprisingly, we both didn’t feel any pressure sa mga tanong ng parents ko. Never ko rin narinig from them na kailangan kami pumasa o dapat top kami sa BAR—lagi lang nila kami kinakamusta—mas worried pa nga ata sila kung complete meals kami every day.

By week six, we’d found our rhythm within the exhaustion. The routine was punishing but sustainable—review center from morning until evening, quick dinner together, then study sessions at my condo or his apartment until we couldn’t absorb any more information.

We were freaking dead.

My condo had become our primary study space, partly because it was larger and partly because I had better Wi-Fi for streaming lectures. Most evenings, we’d settle into our respective spots—Milo on the couch with his codals and annotated books, me either at the dining table with my notes spread out or curled up nearby with headphones, listening to recorded lectures while reviewing flashcards.

One evening in the seventh week, I was particularly exhausted after a gruelling day of Tax Law (fucking hate this. I will never be a Tax Lawyer) and Commercial Law lectures. My brain felt fried, but there was still so much material to cover before Saturday’s mock BAR. I’d been sitting at the dining table for three hours, making notes and cross-referencing cases, when my neck started cramping from looking down at my books.

Milo was on the couch, deeply focused on reading through Civil Code provisions, occasionally making notes in the margins. I decided to take a break from writing and switched to listening to an audio lecture instead.

“Can I…” I gestured toward the couch.

He looked up from his book and nodded, shifting slightly to make room. I lay down with my head on his lap, closed my eyes, and put in my earphones. The lecturer’s voice filled my head with discussions, and I tried to focus on absorbing the information while enjoying the first comfortable position I’d been in all day.

Milo’s free hand found its way to my hair, fingers running gently through it as he continued reading. The combination of the lecture, his touch, and the relative comfort after hours of sitting upright was almost meditative.

I must have been lying there for twenty minutes, half-listening to lectures and half-enjoying the simple physical comfort of being close to him, when I felt something different. Milo had leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

I opened my eyes and pulled out one earphone, looking up at him. “What was that for?”

“I couldn’t resist.”

I pouted. “I’m supposed to be studying.”

“You are studying.”

“Not effectively if you’re going to distract me with kisses.”

“Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t look sorry at all.

When he started to pull back, I reached up and put my hand on the back of his head, holding him in place. “I didn’t say I didn’t like the distraction.”

This time when we kissed, it was deeper, more intentional. I could taste the coffee he’d been drinking and feel the slight tension in his shoulders from hours of studying. When we broke apart, we were both breathing harder.

“We should get back to studying,” I said, but I didn’t move from his lap.

“We should,” he agreed, but his hand was still in my hair and his eyes were focused on my mouth.

“Ang lapit na ng BAR.”

“I know.”

“We can’t afford to slack off.”

“I know.”

But when he kissed me again, all thoughts of Tax Law and Commercial Law disappeared. The stress and pressure and exhaustion of the past weeks melted away, replaced by the simple need to be close to each other, to remember what we were working toward beyond just passing an exam.

I sat up and kissed him properly, my hands framing his face, and felt him respond immediately. His arms came around me, pulling me closer, and I could feel how much he’d needed this, too—not just the physical connection, but the reminder that we were more than just study partners grinding through review materials.

“Saffron,” he murmured against my mouth, and the way he said my name made something tighten in my chest.

“I know,” I said, because I could feel the same urgency, the same need to connect with each other in a way that had nothing to do with legal memorization or exam preparation.

We moved together with the kind of desperate tenderness that comes from months of high stress and limited intimacy. My hands traced the familiar lines of his shoulders, reacquainting myself with the body I’d barely had time to properly touch in weeks. His skin was warm under my fingertips, and I could feel the tension he’d been carrying from hunching over textbooks and sitting in uncomfortable review center chairs.

“I missed this,” I whispered against his neck, breathing in the scent that was uniquely him—coffee and soap and something that was just Milo. “I missed you.”

“I’m right here,” he said, but his voice was rough with emotion because he understood what I meant. We’d been together every day, but we’d been so consumed by studying that we’d forgotten how to just be with each other.

His hands found my face, thumbs brushing across my cheekbones as he looked at me like he was seeing me clearly for the first time in months. Not as his study partner or fellow BAR candidate, but as his girlfriend, the woman he loved. The realization seemed to surprise both of us—that we’d become so focused on our shared goal that we’d almost lost sight of why that goal mattered.

Every touch felt heightened, more significant, like we were remembering something important about ourselves that had gotten buried under codal provisions and jurisprudence. When he kissed me, really kissed me, I could taste not just the coffee we’d both been surviving on, but something deeper—relief, love, the acknowledgment that we were still us underneath all the pressure and preparation.

“We’ve been living like monks,” I said, laughing softly against his mouth.

“Monks with law degrees,” he corrected, and I could feel him smiling.

“Monks trying to get that dot.”

“Same thing.”

But it wasn’t the same thing, and we both knew it. We were two people who loved each other, who’d been supporting each other through the most challenging period of our lives, but who’d forgotten somewhere along the way that love needed tending, too.

There was urgency in the way we moved together, but also a profound gentleness. Like we were both desperate to connect but also afraid of breaking something precious. His hands shook slightly as they mapped familiar territory that had become foreign through weeks of neglect, and I could feel my own trembling as I responded to touches I’d almost forgotten I craved.

“I love you,” he said against my ear, and the words carried the weight of everything we’d been through together—not just the past months of review, but all of it. The fighting, the breaking up, the finding our way back to each other, the decision to build something real and lasting despite all the obstacles.

“I love you always,” I said, and meant it with every part of myself that wasn’t occupied with memorizing legal principles.

We moved together with a rhythm that felt both familiar and new, rediscovering each other in the space between who we’d been as students and who we were becoming as almost-lawyers. The stress and worry that had been constant companions for months melted away, replaced by something simpler and more essential—the basic human need to be known and loved and held.

Afterward, the silence between us felt different than it had in weeks. Not the exhausted quiet of two people too tired to speak, but the satisfied peace of two people who’d remembered why they were doing all of this together in the first place.

“We should probably get back to studying,” I said, but I didn’t make any move to get up from the couch.

“Probably,” Milo agreed, but he was running his fingers up and down my arm in a way that suggested studying was the last thing on his mind.

“Oh, shit. Hindi ko na-pause ’yung audio lecture.”

“You can rewind it.”

“E ’yung binabasa mo?”

“Tanda ko pa kung saan ako tumigil.”

But even as we talked about returning to our review materials, neither of us moved. The break had been necessary, I realized. We’d been so focused on preparing for the BAR that we’d forgotten to take care of ourselves or our relationship.

Eventually, reality reasserted itself. Milo’s phone buzzed with a reminder about the mock BAR the next day, and we both remembered why we were here, surrounded by legal textbooks and review materials.

“Alarm,” Milo said suddenly, reaching for his phone. “We need to set the alarm.”

I frowned. “It’s only 9PM.”

“Maaga pa ’yung review natin bukas. ’Di tayo pwedeng ma-late.”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but I understood. We’d worked too hard and come too far to let anything interfere with our preparation now. He set multiple alarms—6AM, 6:15AM, 6:30AM—with the kind of precision that showed just how seriously he took our shared responsibility to succeed.

“There,” he said, putting the phone back on the coffee table. “At least sigurado na magigising tayo bukas.”

“Duh. For four years, 5:30AM ako gumigising. Don’t worry, babe, I got you.”

“Hindi mo kailangan ng alarm?”

“Nope. Sanay na ’yung body clock ko.”

“Kahit pagod ka?”

“Yeah kasi—” but then I saw that expression on his face. My eyes widened. “Maximiliano Jose Delgado! Aren’t you tired?!”

He shook his head as he flipped me over and once again, my boyfriend was hovering over me.

I mean… ’di naman siguro namin ikaka-bagsak kapag hindi kami nagreview just for tonight.

---

By week twelve, when our review centers entered what they called ‘hell month,’ we were exhausted but stable. The intensive preparation was nearly over, and we’d managed to maintain both our academic focus and our relationship.

When the final week arrived, surprisingly calm after months of intensity, we felt as ready as we could be. We’d studied everything, practiced every type of question, and prepared for every possible scenario.

“Are you ready?” I asked Milo on the Thursday before the first day of the BAR exam.

“As ready as I’m going to be.”

“Scared?”

“Terrified. You?”

“Same.”

But we were ready. Not just individually, but together. We’d supported each other through months of the most intensive studying either of us had ever done, and we’d managed to become stronger as a couple in the process.

Sunday couldn’t come fast enough and couldn’t come slowly enough. We were prepared, but we’d never be prepared enough. We’d done everything possible, and now it was time to trust that it would be enough.

But damn, I couldn’t wait to call him Atty. Delgado— my Atty. Delgado. 

This story is already completed at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 48

Saturday afternoon, the atmosphere in our house felt different. Buong review period, either sa condo ko o sa apartment ni Milo kami nagsstay. Ewan. I guess emotional support? Super draining ng review center, so I really needed to fall asleep in his arms dahil kung hindi, baka nabaliw na talaga ako sa sobrang stress.

Also, technically, today’s the final day of the review period. It’s usually my parents who extend invitation na magdinner kami sa bahay. I was actually surprised when Milo asked kung pwede kaming sa bahay magdinner ngayon.

Pamilya na ba ang tingin niya sa pamilya ko?

Because if yes… that I’d be the happiest.

My family’s the most supportive—and Milo deserves nothing but the most supportive family.

When we arrived at the house, I told myself to be a little upbeat, but I was just really tired from the months of constant review. I knew na naiintindihan naman ako ng parents ko—they’d been here before.

At 5PM, the entire family, including Milo, first attended the special mass at SCA. The school always held this send-off mass for BAR examinees, where the monks would offer prayers and blessings for all the people taking the exam. The chapel was packed with nervous-looking examinees and their families, everyone wearing expressions that ranged from determined to terrified.

Me? I was both—determined to pass but terrified to my core.

I sat between Milo and my parents, trying to focus on the homily about trusting in God’s plan and having faith in our preparation. But my mind kept wandering to tomorrow’s exam schedule: Political Law in the morning, Labor Law in the afternoon. Had I reviewed enough? Did I cover all the topics included in the syllabus? O may nakalimutan ba ako?

I was spiraling once again.

But Milo’s hand found mine during the prayer, and I squeezed it gratefully. He looked as nervous as I felt, but there was something steady about his presence that helped ground me.

After mass, we went to an early dinner at a restaurant in Makati. Our family’s not really the kind na adventurous pagdating sa pagkain. As a family, we have restaurants we frequent. Today though, I was surprised dahil bago iyong pinuntahan namin.

“Thank you,” I told my Mom as I hugged her kasi na-realize ko agad na kaya kami nandito kasi nabanggit ni Milo before na gusto niyang ma-try ’yung pagkain dito.

Mom just hugged me back, no words needed.

I love that they love the person that I love.

The conversation during dinner was normal. It felt like any other family dinner, except for the underlying tension that everyone was trying to ignore. Ramdam na ramdam na ata nila iyong kaba namin kaya hindi sila kusang nagtanong tungkol sa exam bukas.

As we finished dessert, I couldn’t help myself. “So,” I said, looking at my family with a half-smile, “any final tips for tomorrow?”

Mom and Dad exchanged a look, and I could see them both trying to find the right words.

“Just do your best,” Mom said finally.

“And remember,” Dad added, looking at both me and Milo, “we’re already proud of you—both of you. Sasalubungin namin kayo sa Linggo.”

The sincerity in my parents’ voice made my chest tight with emotion. This was what I’d wanted for so long—Milo feeling like he belonged with my family, my family accepting him completely. And here we were, on the eve of the most important exam of our lives, and it felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

---

Umuwi na sila Dad habang naka-sunod naman sa amin sina Ate Lily and Sage. Pagdating namin sa condo, Sage and Ate Lily had already set up camp in the living room. They’d brought overnight bags and had transformed my coffee table into a command center with alarms, lists, and everything Milo and I would need for tomorrow.

They volunteered na sila iyong ‘BAROPS’ namin for this week—I really didn’t ask them kasi parang sobra na iyong nagawa nila for us the past few months. Every week, meron kaming delivery ng pagkain para hindi na kami nag-iisip ng kung ano iyong meals namin. Then sila rin nagpapa-photocopy ng ibang kailangan namin na resources.

Honestly, who needs sorority and fraternity kung may Borromeo Family BAROPS ka?

“Okay, briefing time,” Ate Lily announced as we walked in. “Sage and I are staying here tonight to make sure you two don’t oversleep, forget anything important, or have nervous breakdowns.”

“We’re not going to have nervous breakdowns,” I said. Ang dami ko na kayang alarms sa phone ko. Milo looked at me like I was insane nung nakita niya kung gaano kadami iyong alarms ko, but better be safe than sorry!

“Milo, perhaps not, but you? You’re already having a nervous breakdown,” Ate Lily observed. “Look at you. You’re wringing your hands.”

I looked down at my hands and realized she was right. “Fine. Maybe I’m a little nervous.”

“A little?” Sage raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, a lot nervous,” I replied as I rolled my eyes. Nandito ba si Sage para inisin ako?

“That’s why we’re here,” Ate Lily said. “We’ll wake you up at 2AM, make sure you eat breakfast, double-check that you have all your things, some last minute review, and then drive you to SCA. All you have to do is show up.”

“No pressure,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

“None at all,” Ate Lily agreed cheerfully.

We reviewed the checklist one more time: Notice of Admission, IDs, laptops, chargers, reviewers, water bottles, food for break time. Everything was packed and ready in our respective bags.

“Alright, you two,” Ate Lily said, checking her watch. “Time for bed na. We’ll wake you up at 2AM.”

“What if 1AM?” I bargained. Tumingin ako kay Milo. “1AM lalabas ba ’yung LMT? I wanna read everything kasi baka lumabas.”

“2AM,” Milo said, then looked at Ate Lily. “Thank you, Ate,” he continued and then held my hand and gently dragged me papunta sa room.

“I don’t think I can sleep,” I said while I was being dragged.

“Try.”

“I really think 1AM tayo dapat magpa-gising. What if mahaba ’yung LMT?”

“We reviewed enough,” he said as he pushed me papasok sa room. “Kung anuman ang lalabas sa LMT, I’m certain that we covered those already.”

“But—”

“Saffron,” he said in that serious voice that made me stop.

“Fine,” I said, pouting.

In the dim light of my bedroom, Milo and I lay facing each other, both of us wide awake despite the early hour. I tried to sleep… I really did… Pero ang hirap matulog whilst fully knowing that a few hours from now, we’ll literally take the exam that will change the course of our lives.

I felt like throwing up—ito na ata iyong mood ko the past few months.

“I’m so nervous,” I whispered.

“Let’s just treat this as one of the exams you usually perfect,” he whispered back.

I frowned, even though he probably couldn’t see it in the darkness. “Wala pa akong na-perfect na exam.”

“Oh, sorry. Sa mga 99/100 exams mo.”

My frown deepened. “That’s not helpful.”

Milo laughed softly, and the sound made some of the tension in my chest ease.

That’s when we heard Sage’s voice booming from the living room: “Matulog na kayo!”

We both stifled giggles like teenagers caught talking after lights-out.

“He’s so annoying,” I whispered.

“He’s just looking out for us.”

“I know. I’m grateful. For all of this. For them being here, for your being here, for—”

“Saffron.”

“What?”

“You’re spiraling.”

“I’m not spiraling.”

“You’re definitely spiraling.”

He was right. I was starting to list all the things I was grateful for, which was what I did when I was trying to distract myself from anxiety.

“What if I forget everything tomorrow?” I asked. “What if my mind goes completely blank? What if I freeze up like I did during that mock exam in week three?”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re you. You’ve never failed an exam. You’re not going to start now.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Not for you.”

In the darkness, I felt him reach for my hand and bring it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles.

“We’re going to be okay,” he said. “Both of us.”

“Promise?”

“I promise we’re going to do everything we can. The rest is out of our control.”

I moved closer to him, until our foreheads were almost touching. “I love you.”

“I love you always.”

We kissed, soft and sweet, the kind of kiss that felt like a promise and a blessing all at once.

“Good night, Atty. Borromeo.”

“Good night, Atty. Delgado.”

---

I woke up at 1:47 AM, thirteen minutes before my first alarm was set to go off. My body felt like it had been hit by a truck, but my mind was instantly alert.

Today was the day.

Milo stirred beside me as I sat up, immediately awake as well.

“Time?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“Almost 2.”

We looked at each other in the light from the moon filtering through my curtains. The weight of what we were about to do hung in the air between us.

“Ready?” he asked.

“No. You?”

“Not even close.”

But we got up anyway, moving through our morning routine with quiet efficiency. Walang nagsasalita, but the tension was so thick I felt it. I showered quickly in my en suite bathroom while Milo used the guest bathroom. I just wore my most comfortable pair of jeans and polo shirt provided by the school. At least may school spirit ako na maffeel—but it also felt like a double-edged sword dahil lagi kong naririnig na BAR bet ako.

I really couldn’t fail.

Fuck.

I gently shook my head and took a deep breath. I was spiraling. Tama si Milo. I needed to focus on what mattered—and that’s breakfast.

Ate Lily had prepared a simple meal: scrambled eggs, toast, fresh fruit, and coffee. Not too heavy, nothing that might upset our stomachs during the exam.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” Ate Lily asked as we sat down to eat.

“Like I’m about to throw up,” I said honestly.

“That’s normal,” she said. “Ganyan din ako before nung exam.”

“Did it help?” Milo asked.

“The throwing up?” Ate Lily asked. Napa-tingin din ako kay Milo. Was he seriously curious if helpful if masuka siya? “Uh… Not really. You need food. Whole day ’yung exam niyo. Naglagay din ako ng chocolates sa bag niyo para you can eat while answering.”

Milo gave a small nod. “Thank you, Ate.”

We ate in relative silence, both of us picking at our food despite knowing we needed fuel for the long day ahead. After breakfast, we sat on the couch and reviewed our last-minute tips one final time—freshly printed papers with the most crucial information we might need to remember.

At 3:30AM, Ate Lily handed us our bags, already packed and double-checked.

“Laptop?” she asked.

“Check,” I said.

“Charger?”

“Here.”

“Notice of Admission?”

“Here.”

“Confidence?”

“Working on it,” I said but Ate Lily just smiled at me and tousled my hair.

The drive to SCA was quiet. Milo and I sat in the back seat, holding hands, both lost in our own thoughts. Manila’s Sunday morning traffic was light, but every red light felt like an eternity.

“Buti maaga tayo. Wala pang masyadong traffic,” Ate Lily observed, trying to fill the silence.

“Mm-hmm,” I managed.

Ate Lily kept on looking behind from the passenger seat, probably trying to gauge our stress levels. Sage also kept on glancing at us in the rearview mirror with worried look that I appreciated but couldn’t quite answer.

As we approached SCA, I could see other cars dropping off students, families saying goodbye, people walking toward the gates with the same tense expressions we definitely also had.

“We’ll pick you up later sa gate 3,” Ate Lily said as Sage pulled up to the drop-off area.

I nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Ate. Thank you, Sage.”

“Good luck,” Sage said, and for once, his voice was completely serious.

“You got this, you two,” Ate Lily added. “We’ll see you later.”

Milo and I got out of the car, shouldering our bags and walking toward the gates. The security process was thorough—bag checks and verification of our admission notices. Everything we’d been told to expect, but it still felt surreal.

When we reached the point where we had to go to our respective rooms, we stopped.

“See you at lunch break?” I asked.

“Definitely,” Milo replied.

“Good luck.”

“You, too.”

Milo did a quick look around and when he noticed na wala pang masyadong tao because it was barely 5AM, he leaned over and kissed my forehead, a gesture so tender that I almost started crying right there in the hallway.

“Go be brilliant,” he said.

“Duh,” I replied and I heard his crisp laughter.

---

The room I was assigned to was on the second floor, and my assigned seat was in the middle section, third row. As I settled into my chair and arranged my things, I tried to take stock of my fellow examinees. Some looked calm and confident. Others looked like they might pass out. A few were frantically reviewing notes.

Me?

I definitely looked like I was about to pass out.

I closed my eyes and tried to center myself. I’d prepared for this. I knew the material. What I’d studied would appear on this exam. All I had to do was demonstrate what I already knew.

Tahimik lang ako habang naghihintay na magsimula iyong exam. I tried to read earlier, but I felt like I was about to throw up once again. Ilang beses ko na rin namang nabasa ’yon na halos kabisado ko na ata iyong mga salita. In the end, I chose to remain quiet while waiting.

“Good morning,” the proctor’s voice filled the room at 7:50AM. “You have four hours to complete this examination. The password is written on the board. You may begin the exam now.”

Fuck.

My fingers were trembling so badly as I typed the password na nag password incorrect pa ako sa una kong try. I paused for a second. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I prepared for this. I gave my fingers a shake and then typed the password once again.

Okay.

Here went nothing.

The first question was about constitutional interpretation, and I felt a surge of relief. This was familiar territory—something I could work with. I started typing, letting my preparation guide my fingers across the keyboard.

As the morning progressed, I found myself settling into a rhythm. Some questions were easier than others, but nothing felt impossibly difficult. Milo had been right—this was like any other exam I’d taken in law school, just with higher stakes.

The four hours passed more quickly than I’d expected. When the proctor called time, I felt reasonably good about my answers, though I couldn’t shake the nagging worry that I’d missed something important.

---

I found Milo waiting for me near the stairwell that led to our usual meeting spot—a quiet area at the far end of the hallway where fewer people congregated during breaks.

“How was it?” I asked as we found an empty spot to sit.

He shrugged. “Okay, I think. Some questions were tricky, but nothing I hadn’t seen before in practice exams.”

“Same. I’m trying not to overthink it.”

“Good,” he said as he tucked a portion of my hair behind my ear. I smiled gently at him. He really is my anchor.

We ate our packed lunches mostly in silence, quietly reviewing notes. We didn’t really discuss the previous questions and answers—we discussed this before pa. What’s done is done and we’d like to focus sa mga susunod na exams.

The break was only an hour, not enough time to really decompress, but sufficient to recharge for the afternoon exam.

“Game?” Milo asked as we heard the bell signaling the end of lunch break.

“We don’t have a choice anyway,” I replied.

He smiled and tousled my hair. “Kung sino maunang matapos sa exam, kita tayo sa garden sa likod ng building.”

I nodded. “Deal.”

---

Labor Law was always one of my stronger subjects, and the afternoon session felt more manageable than the morning. I worked through questions about employee rights, collective bargaining, and employment termination with growing confidence.

But then something strange happened—I finished early. Not just a few minutes early, but a full hour before time was called. I read through my answers thrice, checked for any questions I might have missed, but I couldn’t find anything else to do.

This was bad. In law school, finishing early usually meant I’d missed something important or hadn’t analyzed deeply enough.

I wanted to stay, but it felt like my anxiety was getting worse kapag naririnig ko iyong pagta-type ng mga tao sa paligid ko.

Once again, I scanned my answers.

Wala akong gustong baguhin.

But why did I have this nagging feeling inside of me?

Begrudgingly, I submitted my exam, collected my things, and made my way to the garden behind the building, my hands clenched into fists as anxiety began to build. What if I’d skipped questions? What if I’d misread instructions? What if—

“Saffron?”

I looked up to see Milo approaching, his expression concerned.

“You finished early, too?” I asked.

He gave me a small nod. “Kanina ka pa dito?” he asked, but his eyes were looking straight to my hands kaya napa-tingin din ako doon.

And it was only when he reached for my hands that I realized my nails had been digging into my palms hard enough to leave marks. There were small crescent-shaped indentations, and one spot was actually bleeding slightly.

“Hey,” he said gently, prying my hands open. “What’s wrong?”

“I finished early,” I said, and I could hear the hysteria creeping into my voice. “What if I missed questions? What if I didn’t read the instructions properly? What if—”

“Saffron, breathe.”

“I can’t breathe. This is bad, Milo. This is really, really bad.”

“This isn’t the first time this has happened,” he said calmly, holding both my hands in his. “You always do this. You always think you’ve messed up, and then you get the highest score in the class.”

“This is different. This is the BAR exam.”

“And you’re still you. There’s no way you skipped questions—that’s not how your brain works. You’re methodical. You check everything thrice.”

“But what if—”

“No what ifs. You finished early because you knew the answers to the questions and you answered efficiently. That’s it.”

I wanted to believe him, but the anxiety was like a living thing in my chest, growing larger with each passing second.

“Kamusta ’yung exam mo?” I asked, partly to distract myself and partly because I genuinely wanted to know.

Milo shrugged. “Some questions were harder than others, but I answered everything—no blanks, remember?”

His calm acceptance made me feel guilty. Here I was, spiraling about finishing early, while he was dealing with the same pressure I was—arguably more, since he couldn’t afford to retake the exam if he failed.

“I’m sorry,” I said suddenly.

“For what?”

“For freaking out when you’re just as stressed as I am. I shouldn’t be dumping my anxiety on you.”

“You’re not dumping anything on me,” he said firmly. “You’re my girlfriend. You’re supposed to tell me when you’re scared. That’s what we do—we support each other.”

“But you don’t freak out like this.”

“Because that’s not how I handle stress. But if I needed to freak out, you’d listen, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then stop apologizing.”

He was right, and I felt some of the tension in my chest begin to ease. We had different ways of coping with pressure, and that was okay.

---

Ate Lily and Sage were waiting for us at Gate 3, as promised. The moment I saw them, I felt like I could finally breathe properly again.

“How did it go?” Ate Lily asked as we got into the car.

“Okay, I think,” I said. “Hard to tell.”

“Parang finals exam din sa law school,” Milo added.

Sage was on a call with his manager and they were arguing about something. I really didn’t understand kung ano iyong pinag-uusapan nila, but honestly, I was just thankful to hear words na hindi legal adjacent.

Back at the condo, dinner was already waiting—takeout from our favorite Thai restaurant. We’d planned to watch a movie afterward and maybe do some light reviewing for Wednesday’s exam, but we were both so exhausted that we fell asleep on the couch halfway through the opening credits.

---

Second day of the BAR exam followed the same pattern, though by now we’d settled into the rhythm of exam days. Wake up early, quiet breakfast, silent drive to SCA, separate into our respective rooms, meet during breaks, go home exhausted.

The subjects were different, but the experience was becoming familiar. The intense focus required for four-hour stretches, the careful time management, the mental fatigue that accumulated as the day progressed.

Nagrereview lang naman ako palagi, but damn, I felt like I got into a physical fight with someone!Definitely needed a massage—heck, a spa day—after this! Super sakit ng katawan ko!

By the final Sunday, we were both running on autopilot. Three days of intensive examination had left us looking like zombies, but we were almost at the finish line.

The last day covered Remedial Law and Criminal Law, subjects I’d always felt confident about, but even my strongest areas felt challenging after nearly a week of testing. My brain felt like it was operating at maybe 70% capacity, and I could see the same exhaustion in the faces of examinees around me.

Some people were crying between sessions. Others seemed eerily confident, as if they’d transcended the need for human emotion. Most of us just looked tired and ready for this to be over.

“Last day,” Milo said during our final lunch break.

“Last day,” I agreed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck that was carrying textbooks.”

Milo laughed and pinched my cheek.

We were too tired for our usual anxiety— my usual anxiety freakout. We were just quiet. We just wanted to survive the next four hours.

When the proctor called time on the final exam, the silence in the room was deafening.

We were done.

Actually, officially, completely done with our legal education.

Let this be the first and only BAR exam that we’ll take! Hindi ko na kayang ulitin ’to! This was probably the hardest thing I’d done in my entire existence!

I checked that my exam was properly submitted, closed my laptop, and sat back in my chair for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. After four years of law school and months of BAR review, it was over. No more studying, no more preparation, no more chances to learn something new that might help us pass.

Now we just had to wait.

I wished I could wait in peace.

The walk to our meeting spot felt different this time. There was no next exam day to prepare for, no tired silence that we shared between us.

“So,” I said when I found Milo waiting by the garden. “That’s it.”

“That’s it.”

Then there was silence.

Four years in school.

Four months of review.

Now… we’re just… done.

We were finished.

Ito… na ’yon?

It felt weird.

“How do you feel?” he asked, looking at me like he’s worried kahit pareho lang naman kami na nagtake.

“I actually don’t know. You?”

“Terrified but relieved at the same time.”

I nodded as I reached for his cheek and caressed it with my thumb. “I know.”

We started walking toward Gate 3, moving slowly because there was no rush anymore. Around us, other examinees were having similar conversations, everyone processing the surreal experience of being done with something that had consumed their lives.

As we approached the gate, I could hear drums in the distance, growing louder as we got closer. The traditional “salubong”—families and friends waiting to welcome the examinees home after their final test.

“Ready for this?” I asked kasi alam ko na hindi big fan si Milo ng mga maiingay na lugar.

“Not really,” he said as he reached for my hand and held it tightly.

When we walked through the gate, the noise hit us like a wall. Drums, cheering, air horns, people calling out names and congratulations. It was chaotic and overwhelming and exactly what we needed after the quiet intensity of the past week.

I scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces, and then I saw them—my entire family, holding up tarps that read ‘Congratulations , Atty. Borromeo !’ ‘Congratulations , Atty. Delgado !’ There was one for me and one for Milo, both decorated with photos na feel ko si Sage iyong pinagawa nila because… what the fuck were those even?

“There they are!” Ate Lily shouted when she spotted us, jumping up and down and waving like we might miss them in the crowd.

Mom was smiling. Dad was beaming. Sage was taking photos of everything. And Milo looked completely overwhelmed by the fact that all of this celebration was partly for him.

Did he honestly expect na wala siyang ganito? Tsk.

“We did it,” I said to Milo as our family surrounded us with hugs and congratulations.

Milo looked back at me, smiling as he held my hand ever so tightly.

We were surrounded by the people who loved us and the drums celebrating our completion of something that had seemed impossible four years ago. Now, waiting didn’t seem so scary.

We were done. Whatever happened next, we’d done everything we could.

And we’d done it together.

This story is already completed at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Chapter 49

It had been three days since we walked out of the BAR venue, and the relief was beginning to give way to something else. Emptiness, maybe. Or restlessness. Ewan ko na.

Earlier, I woke up at 5AM like clockwork.

And like an instinct, agad akong napaupo sa kama. I was about to stand up to take my morning shower nang bigla akong mapa-hinto kasi… we were done. Tapos na pala. We had no schedule to follow, no reviewer to read, no mock exam to prepare for.

We were done.

I knew I was supposed to feel relieved, but for some reason, I felt… nothing—or at the very least, I felt somehow lost kasi ano na ang gagawin ko ngayon? To wait? That’s it?

And so, for the first time in months, Milo and I were sitting on my couch with absolutely nothing to do. No review materials spread across the coffee table, no legal provisions to memorize, no practice exams to prepare for.

Just… silence.

“This is weird,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Why?” Milo asked from his spot beside me. He was reading a novel—an actual novel, not a law book—but I could tell he wasn’t really concentrating on it. Maybe he was feeling restless din kagaya ko? Na hindi sanay na walang ginagawa, walang binabasa?

“We should celebrate,” I said suddenly. Milo will be going back to work in two weeks. Actually, dapat this week na talaga… I just really made a strong case na he’s human and he needed rest. He’s in agreement naman yata sa akin kasi I didn’t really need na pilitin pa siya. “Like, properly celebrate. We just finished law school and took the BAR. That deserves more than takeout pizza and Netflix.”

“Ano’ng gusto mong gawin?”

I shrugged as I snuggled closer to him. I anchored my arms with his and rested my head against his arm. “I don’t know. Maybe… a trip somewhere?”

The moment I said it, I felt that familiar flutter of anxiety in my stomach. Not about traveling—I loved to travel—but about the logistics. Specifically, the financial logistics.

Milo had been living off savings for months during the entire BAR review—kahit nung fourth year namin. I’d seen the way he checked his phone when he thought I wasn’t looking, probably monitoring his bank account. The way he’d started declining when I suggested eating at restaurants instead of cooking at home. The careful way he budgeted every expense.

I felt so bad… but I didn’t want to say anything. Wish ko lang talaga na maka-pasa na kami and maging lawyer na. I wanted him to have money—to never worry about money again.

He couldn’t afford a vacation right now, but I knew he’d never admit that. And if I suggested one, he’d insist on paying for it himself even if it meant maxing out whatever money has.

“Hmm… Okay. Pag-isipan mo muna kung saan,” he said.

“Okay.”

But over the next few days, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. We’d worked so hard, been through so much stress, supported each other through the most challenging period of our academic lives. Didn’t we deserve to mark this achievement with something special?

Also… I was really itching to travel. One and half year na akong walang travel because fourth year was very, very demanding and more so iyong BAR review.

I started researching vacation options obsessively, the way I used to research jurisprudence. Beach resorts in Batangas. Staycation in Tagaytay. Even near international destinations—Vietnam, Taiwan, Thailand. I made spreadsheets of costs, compared flight prices, read hotel reviews.

But every time I started to bring up specific options with Milo, I stopped myself. How could I suggest a trip to Taiwan when I knew he was worried about rent money? How could I propose a beach trip when he was probably calculating how long his remaining savings would last?

Ganoon ba ako ka-inconsiderate?

‘Just pay for it yourself,’ the privileged part of my brain whispered. ‘Or surprise him. Girlfriend ka naman. You can treat him once in a while.’

But I knew Milo well enough to know that wouldn’t work. His pride was part of what made him who he was, part of what I loved about him. He’d worked his entire adult life to be self-sufficient, to never be in a position where he had to depend on others for basic needs. Springing an expensive vacation on him, even with the best intentions, would make him feel diminished rather than celebrated.

“Maybe somewhere local?” I suggested one evening as we walked around the mall, trying to fill time that used to be devoted to studying.

“Saan?”

“Tagaytay? Or Baguio?”

“Hmm. Pwede.”

But even as he agreed, I could see him mentally calculating costs. Hotel, food, transportation. Even a local trip would strain his budget right now.

I was getting frustrated with the entire situation. We’d just finished law school. We’d taken the BAR exam. We deserved to celebrate, and I had the money to make that happen. Why was this so complicated?

“You know what your problem is?” Sage said when I complained to him about the situation the next day. We were in my parents’ kitchen, and I was stress-eating leftover cake while explaining my vacation planning dilemma.

“Enlighten me.”

“You’re overthinking this. As usual.”

“I am not overthinking this. I’m being considerate of my boyfriend’s financial situation.”

“You’re being considerate to the point of paralysis. Just ask him what he wants to do.”

“I can’t just ask him. He’ll say yes if sabihin ko sa kanya na gusto kong pumunta sa Thailand bukas. But I don’t want that, okay? I don’t want to burden him.”

“So, what’s your plan? Never go anywhere until he makes more money? In three months pa ’yung results, ’di ba?”

“I don’t know!” I threw my hands up in frustration. “I just want to celebrate with him without making him feel bad about his finances.”

Sage was quiet for a moment, finishing his own piece of cake.

“Oh,” he said finally, “Naalala ko lang. I have that Thailand trip I won from the tournament.”

I looked up at him. “The what?”

“Remember? I won that esports tournament last month. Part of the prize was a trip to Bangkok. Four nights, five days. Hotel and flights included.”

My heart started beating faster. “What about it?”

He shrugged. “Do you want it?” he asked.

“Are you being for real?”

He nodded. “Hindi ko rin magagamit. Not interested in going to Bangkok at the moment.”

“For real? Or baka sinasabi mo lang ’yan because you feel bad—” then I grinned. “Never mind. I don’t care if you’re just feeling bad. I’ll take it!”

Sage rolled his eyes. I hugged him and kissed his cheek. He acted like he was grossed out by it.

“Thanks, twin! It’s transferrable naman, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, confirm it! So I can tell Milo na!”

---

I was waiting for Sage to confirm with whoever was in charge if transferrable ba ’yung trip niya. While waiting, I practiced kung paano ko sasabihin ’to kay Milo. I waited until that evening to bring it up with Milo. We were at his apartment, and I was trying to figure out how to present Sage’s offer in a way that he’d agree with me.

“So,” I said, sitting cross-legged on his couch while he made coffee in the kitchen. “Sage told me something interesting today.”

“Tungkol saan?”

“Remember he won that tournament last month?”

He nodded. “Iyong nanalo siya at saka dinalhan natin siya ng cake?”

I nodded. “Remember the prize? He also got a trip. To Thailand. Four nights in Bangkok, flights and hotel included.”

Milo emerged from the kitchen with two mugs, looking curious. “That’s nice.”

“Well, here’s the thing. He can’t use it. Schedule conflict,” I lied… white lie naman.

“Sayang naman.”

“But he can transfer it to family members.”

Milo set down the coffee mugs and looked at me with an expression I recognized—the one that meant he was trying to figure out where this conversation was going.

“Saffron.”

“What?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that maybe we could use Sage’s trip. As our post-BAR vacation.”

“The trip he won.”

“The trip he won and can’t use.”

“For free.”

“Not really, ha! We’d have to pay for meals and stuff we want to do there kaya.”

Milo sat down across from me, and I could see him processing this information.

“May schedule conflict si Sage?” he asked. The fact that he asked this showed how well he knew my family and our tendency to try to take care of people we loved.

I gave a curt nod. “Yup. Checked his calendar and everything.”

Naka-tingin lang siya sa akin.

I even raised my right hand. “His manager already confirmed na may conflict talaga.”

Milo was quiet for several minutes, drinking his coffee and thinking.

“It would just be food and activities?”

“Just food and activities.”

“Which I’d pay for.”

I bit my tongue. “Yup.”

“And Sage is really okay with this?”

“He says it’s better than letting it go to waste.”

More silence. I tried not to fidget while he considered.

“Thailand,” he said finally.

“Thailand.”

“I’ve never been out of the country.”

My eyes widened. “Wait, do you have a passport ba?”

He nodded. “Required for work,” he said.

“Okay. Good. That’s good to hear.”

“Kailan tayo aalis?”

“I’ll check,” I said but I was already scheming na gusto ko umalis na kami as soon as possible. I didn’t care, at this point, kung magkano iyong additional na babayaran ni Sage sa ticket na pinaka-malapit. I really wanted to go!

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s go to Thailand.”

I may have squealed a little bit.

---

The planning phase turned out to be almost as enjoyable as I’d hoped the actual trip would be.

After months of focusing exclusively on legal concepts and exam preparation, researching Bangkok attractions felt like the most fun thing I’d done in ages. We spent evenings on his couch or mine, laptops out, reading about temples and markets and restaurants.

“We have to go to the temples,” I said, scrolling through photos of ornate golden buildings.

“Okay.”

“And street food tours. I want to try everything with you.”

“Everything? Naka-punta ka na don, ’di ba?”

“Yes, but it’s different with you syempre.”

Milo blushed. I planted a kissed on his cheek. He laughed. I realized I hadn’t heard him laugh like that in months. The sound made my chest warm.

We made lists of places to visit, restaurants to try, activities that looked interesting. We researched the best places to explore, figured out transportation options, even started learning basic Thai phrases from YouTube videos.

I also started researching Bangkok’s nightlife. I was certain na nakapag-explore na ako sa Bangkok, but I was also certain that I was dead drunk kaya wala akong recollection sa mga nangyari.

“Look at this,” I showed Milo a photo of a club with an amazing view of the city skyline. “It’s supposed to have the best music and cocktails in Bangkok.”

“You want to go clubbing?”

“Yup, ayaw mo ba? When’s the next time we’ll be in Bangkok?”

“Okay.”

“But stay close sa akin! What if may lumapit sa ’yo na cute na Thai girl? You should say na may girlfriend ka!”

Milo laughed. “Baliw.”

“I’m so serious!”

“Okay. Kapag may lumapit din sa ’yo—”

“I’ll immediately say that I’m not interested because I’m so in love with my boyfriend.”

Milo’s face quickly reddened. I laughed. Okay, I won again!

---

Bangkok hit us like a sensory explosion.

The heat, the humidity, the noise, the smell—street food and exhaust and flowers and something indefinable that was just ‘foreign city.’ Our hotel—thank Sage!—was right in the middle of the city. The view was incredible, but what caught my attention immediately was the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that looked out over the city. The room was modern and sleek, with a king-sized bed facing the panoramic window.

“Wow… It’s so nice here,” I said, staring at the view outside our window.

We’d arrived in the evening, too tired from travel to do much exploring, but even the train ride and walk from the airport had been an adventure.

“Shower?” Milo suggested, dropping his luggage on the floor.

“Together?” I asked, suddenly feeling bold in this new environment.

He looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Kung gusto mo.”

“Duh!” sagot ko. Milo laughed.

The bathroom was as impressive as the rest of the room, with a deep soaking tub and a separate glass-walled shower. But we were both too tired to do anything more adventurous than a quick rinse before falling into bed.

On our first full day, we decided to start with the obvious tourist attractions, but first—breakfast. We found a small street-side restaurant. It’s like hitting two birds with one stone! I wanted to just discover hole in the wall stalls, but at the same time, I really didn’t want Milo to spend a lot of money.

My favorite Thai dish, pad kra pao, finally arrived. Gosh, this is life! Good food! Perfect boyfriend!

“Oh, god, I missed this,” I said, taking another bite. Natawa si Milo. I frowned at him. “What? Ang sarap kaya.”

“Better than me?” he asked.

My eyes widened. “Milo!” I said habang ramdam na ramdam ko iyong pamumula ng buong face ko. Gosh! Was it the Bangkok air?!

After breakfast, we decided to just walk around. We spent the entire day wandering through Bangkok, soaking in everything the city had to offer. At Wat Pho, we walked barefoot through halls filled with golden statues and the sound of chanting monks. I took photos of everything—the intricate murals that covered every wall, Milo looking contemplative in front of enormous statues, both of us trying to fit the massive reclining Buddha into a single frame.

“Tignan mo,” Milo said, pointing to intricate carvings that covered every inch of available space. “Gaano kaya katagal ’to ginawa?” he asked. He sounded like a curious child… so adorable.

“Years. Maybe decades.”

“Can you imagine having that kind of patience?”

“After BAR review, I think I can imagine having any kind of patience.”

At the Grand Palace, I went slightly crazy with my phone camera, taking videos of us walking, photos of the detailed architecture, and way too many selfies of us looking amazed by everything we were seeing.

“Di pa ba ubos ’yung storage mo?” Milo asked as I took my fifteenth photo of the same golden spire.

“That’s what cloud storage is for. Duh.”

We visited two more temples throughout the day, each one different but equally stunning. I made Milo record a video of me trying to describe the view.

“Bangkok is…” I said to the camera, “absolutely incredible and I can’t breathe and this is the best day ever.”

“Pwede ka ng travel vlogger,” Milo said from behind the camera.

“Shut up, I’m documenting our adventure.”

And then we were, once again, in the market. Why did we even bother planning? Parang we’re just here to eat good food—no complaints, tho!

“Dare I say mas masarap ’yung mango here,” I declared.

“Everything tastes better when you’re not stressed about memorizing civil procedure rules,” Milo added.

I groaned. “Don’t mention Civpro. We’re on vacation.”

“Sorry. You’re right. No legal talk.”

“No legal talk,” I confirmed, but I was smiling as I said it.

We stayed out until late afternoon, wandering through markets and side streets, trying street food and taking photos of everything that caught our attention. By the time we made it back to our hotel, my phone was full of memories and we were both exhausted in the best possible way.

“Shower and dinner?” I suggested as I fought the urge to collapse onto the carpeted floor.

“And nap,” Milo said.

“Quick nap!”

He laughed as he groaned. “Okay.”

That evening, after a dinner of authentic Thai food at a restaurant the concierge had recommended, we found ourselves walking through Bangkok’s nighttime streets with no particular destination in mind. The city was completely transformed after dark—neon signs reflecting in puddles from an earlier rain shower, street vendors setting up for the evening crowd, music spilling out of bars and clubs.

We walked hand in hand through busy streets, window shopping and people watching, both of us reluctant to end what had been a perfect day. That’s when I spotted the club I’d researched earlier in the week.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Milo asked, following my gaze up to the rooftop bar with lights visible from the street.

“I have an idea.”

The club I’d researched was on the top floor of a hotel in the city center, with panoramic views of Bangkok’s skyline. The music was loud, the kind that made you want to move without thinking about it, and the crowd was a mix of locals and tourists all there to have a good time.

“Iinom ka?” Milo asked as we found a spot at the bar.

“Can I?”

Milo nodded and caressed my cheek with his thumb, as if he was telling me that I could let loose—that it’ll be fine since he’s here with me.

“You look good in a club,” I said, checking him out in the dim lighting. He’d worn a dark button-down shirt that fit him perfectly, and the colored lights made his eyes look almost luminous.

“You look incredible,” he flirted back, and the way he looked at me made my skin tingle.

I’d chosen a short black dress that hugged my curves, my hair in loose waves. I didn’t really bother to wear a lot of make-up, just my red lipstick for tonight—the smudge-proof one.

We ordered drinks—something fruity and strong that tasted like vacation—and found ourselves gradually moving to the rhythm of the music. Milo had been right about not being much of a dancer, but what he lacked in technique he made up for in enthusiasm.

“You’re terrible at this,” I laughed as he attempted some move that looked more like martial arts than dancing.

Milo frowned. I planted a kiss on his cheek.

The alcohol and the music and the energy of the crowd loosened us up in ways that months of studying hadn’t allowed. We danced badly and laughed about it, ordered more drinks, danced some more. At some point, the terrible dancing evolved into something that looked almost coordinated.

“Better!” I shouted over the music as Milo managed to match my rhythm.

“I have a good teacher!” he replied. I told him to have a drink. I wasn’t planning on getting wasted—and I wanted Milo to have fun din.

The song changed to something slower and more sensual, and suddenly we weren’t just dancing—we were pressed against each other.

“Saffron,” Milo said, his voice rough.

I looked up at him, and the intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. Without thinking about who might be watching or where we were, I reached up and kissed him.

He responded immediately, his arms tightening around me as we kissed in the middle of the dance floor. The music pounded around us, but all I could focus on was the taste of him, the feeling of his hands on my back, the way he kissed me like he’d been wanting to do it all day.

We made out shamelessly, lost in each other and the music and the freedom of being somewhere no one knew us. Other couples around us were doing the same thing, and for once I didn’t feel self-conscious or worried about appearances.

I love Thailand!

“We should go back to the hotel,” I said when we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard.

“Yes,” he immediately agreed.

---

The tuk-tuk ride back to our hotel was torture in the best possible way. We sat close together in the back, and every time we hit a bump or took a sharp turn, Milo’s hand would tighten on my thigh or I’d end up pressed against his side.

The warm night air rushed past us as our driver navigated through Bangkok’s late-night traffic, and the combination of the alcohol, the adrenaline from dancing, and the anticipation of what was waiting for us back at the hotel had me feeling reckless.

“Come here,” Milo murmured, pulling me closer to him.

I didn’t need any encouragement. I leaned into him, and when he tilted my chin up to look at him, I kissed him without hesitation. The tuk-tuk hit a pothole at exactly that moment, making us both laugh against each other’s lips.

“Did you read Thailand laws? May public indecency violation ba dito?” I asked as my lips were almost touching his. Damn. Would I be an international criminal?

“I… don’t know,” he replied, but then perhaps he was in agreement that we would be criminals tonight.

He kissed me again, softer this time, and I could taste the sweetness from our drinks mixed with something that was purely him. The city lights blurred past us as we kissed, and I felt like we were in our own private bubble despite being in the back of a public vehicle.

When we pulled up to our hotel, I was surprised by how quickly the ride had passed. Milo paid our driver while I tried to smooth down my hair and look presentable enough to walk through the lobby.

The elevator ride to our floor felt endless. We stood on opposite sides of the small space, ostensibly giving each other room, but the tension was so thick I could barely breathe. Every time our eyes met, I saw the same desperate want that I was feeling.

When the doors finally opened on our floor, we walked quickly down the hallway, and Milo fumbled with the key card while I pressed myself against his back, unable to keep from touching him.

“Almost,” he muttered, finally getting the door to beep open.

The moment we were inside our room, with the door closed behind us, all pretense of restraint disappeared. Milo turned around and pinned me against the door, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that was desperate and hungry and months of pent-up tension finally being released.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he said against my lips.

“What stopped you?”

“Common decency.”

“Overrated,” I managed to say before he kissed me again.

His hands were everywhere—in my hair, on my face, tracing the lines of my dress—and I could feel the urgency in his touch. We stumbled across the room, kissing and pulling at each other’s clothes, until we ended up against the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the Bangkok skyline.

“The view,” I said breathlessly, looking out at the city lights spread below us.

“I have a better view,” Milo said, his eyes fixed on me.

He pressed me against the glass, and I could feel the coolness of the window against my skin through the thin fabric of my dress. The contrast between the cool glass and his warm hands made me shiver.

“Someone might see,” I said, but even as I said it, I was arching into his touch.

“We’re twenty floors up,” he said, his lips finding the sensitive spot below my ear. “Do you care?” he asked.

“No,” I breathed. “No, I don’t.”

The combination of the height, the city lights below us, and the way he was kissing my neck made me feel dizzy with want. I reached for his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine.

“Wait,” he said, pulling back to look at me. “Are you sure about this? Here?”

Instead of answering with words, I reached behind me and slowly pulled down the zipper of my dress. The fabric slipped down my shoulders, and I watched Milo’s eyes darken as he took in the sight of me in the dim lighting from the city below.

“Yes,” I breathed.

He made a sound that was half groan, half laugh, and then his mouth was on mine again, more urgent this time. His hands roamed my body as if he was trying to memorize every curve, every sensitive spot that made me gasp against his lips.

I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finally getting it open and pushing it off his shoulders. The feeling of skin against skin, combined with the cool glass at my back and the warmth of his body pressing against me, was overwhelming.

“Saffron,” he breathed my name like a prayer as his lips traveled down my throat.

The city sparkled below us, completely oblivious to what was happening twenty floors above, and I felt wild and free in a way I never had before. This wasn’t the careful, quiet intimacy we’d shared in Manila, always mindful of thin apartment walls or other people nearby. This was raw and desperate and completely uninhibited.

When he lifted me up, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and the change in angle made us both gasp. The glass was cold against my back, but I barely noticed because all my attention was focused on the way he was looking at me, like I was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen.

“I love you,” he said, and the intensity in his voice made my chest tight with emotion.

“Show me,” I whispered back.

And he did. The months of relentless studying, of stolen moments between review sessions, of exhaustion that left little room for anything but memorization, all melted away in that instant. This was us reclaiming ourselves, reclaiming what we’d had to sacrifice for the BAR exam.

Against the window overlooking one of the most beautiful cities in the world, with Bangkok’s lights twinkling below us like stars, we made love with a desperation born from months of deprivation. His hands roamed my body as if he was rediscovering territory he’d been forced to abandon, relearning every curve and sensitive spot that had been neglected during our intensive preparation.

“I missed this,” he breathed against my neck, his voice rough with want. “I missed you.”

“We’re here now,” I whispered back, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he pressed closer. “We’re finally here.”

Every touch felt electric after so long without this kind of intimacy. His lips found mine again and again, as if he couldn’t get enough, and I understood the feeling completely. We’d been surviving on quick kisses between study sessions, brief touches while passing each other coffee. Now we had all the time in the world, and we were both determined to make up for what we’d lost.

“Saffron,” my name was a prayer on his lips as we moved together, and I could feel tears starting in my eyes from the intensity of it all—not just the physical pleasure, but the emotional release of being close to him again without the weight of studying hanging over us.

We made love with a passion that took my breath away, every kiss deeper than the last, every touch more meaningful because we’d been denied this for so long. I lost myself completely in the feeling of being wanted this desperately, needed this much, loved this completely.

When we finally reached that peak together, it was with a intensity that left us both shaking, clinging to each other as if we were afraid the moment might disappear. Afterward, we stood there catching our breath, still pressed against the glass, still wrapped around each other. The city continued to pulse with life below us, but in our hotel room, time seemed to have stopped.

“That was…” I started to say, but couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Overdue,” he said, understanding exactly what I meant.

“Long overdue.”

He kissed me again, softer now but no less meaningful. “I missed you.”

“I know,” I replied as I planted a soft kiss on his lips. “I missed you so much even when you’re right here in front of me…”

He kissed me again, gentler this time, and I could taste satisfaction and love and something that felt like pure happiness.

“Bath?” he suggested after a while.

“Definitely.”

We sank into the hot water together, and I immediately felt the tension from months of studying and exam stress begin to melt away. The water was perfectly hot, and the bubbles from the jets created a relaxing atmosphere.

“Wow… It’s super relaxing,” I sighed, settling back against Milo’s chest.

I tilted my head back to look at him, and the expression on his face made my heart skip. In the soft light in the bathroom, with his hair damp from the steam and his eyes soft with contentment, he looked like something out of a dream—my dream.

“Ano’ng iniisip mo?” I asked.

“How different everything feels now.”

“Different how?”

“Can’t point out exactly.”

I nodded, understanding completely. “I know,” I just said.

The warm water and his gentle touches were making me drowsy in the most pleasant way, but also awakening something deeper. This was different from the urgent passion we’d shared against the window—this was slow and sensual and intimate in a way that felt almost sacred.

“Milo,” I said softly.

“Hmm?”

I turned around in the water so I was facing him, our legs tangled together in the spacious tub. “I love you.”

“I love you always.”

“No, I mean… I really love you. Not just law school us, or BAR exam preparation us, but this us. The us that exists when we’re not worried about grades or performance or meeting expectations.”

He smiled and kissed the top of my head.

“This us is everything,” I continued.

When he kissed me this time, it was with the kind of tenderness that made my chest ache with emotion. There was no urgency, no desperation, just pure love and the luxury of having all the time in the world to express it.

The water lapped gently around us as we kissed, and I could feel every point where our skin touched magnified by the heat and the bubbles. When his hands began to explore my body under the water, every touch felt heightened, more sensitive, like the warm water had made every nerve ending more responsive.

“I love you, Saffron,” he murmured against my neck, and the combination of his voice and the warm water made me shiver despite the heat.

We made love in that tub with a slowness that would have been impossible during the stressed months of BAR preparation. Every kiss was savored, every touch deliberate, every moment stretched out until it felt like we existed in our own private universe where nothing mattered except the way we made each other feel.

And when we finally emerged from the bath, both of us relaxed and happy in a way that felt almost illegal, I couldn’t remember why we’d ever thought we were too busy for this kind of intimacy.

“We should take baths together more often,” I said as we dried off.

“Wala tayong bath tub.”

I frowned. “Then for our next place, we definitely need a bathtub.”

“Okay.”

My eyes widened. I was just… blabbering, but did he agree na magkaka-place kami? Not even now, but soon! When we’re both financially doing well, of course…

“A place together?” I asked. I just really needed to hear it again.

“Eventually,” he said. “Kailangan ko munang mag-ipon para sa bathtub mo.”

“Okay. Ako rin. I will save money.”

He smiled. “Okay,” he said in agreement even though we both knew that once he earns good money, he’d pay for everything—ngayon pa nga lang na hindi malaki iyong sweldo niya, he’s already paying…

I really hit jackpot with this one.

We fell asleep tangled together in the hotel bed, exhausted and more content than either of us had been in months.

---

Our second full day in Bangkok started late and lazy. We ordered room service breakfast and ate it in bed, planning our day with no particular urgency.

“Chatuchak Market?” I suggested, scrolling through tourist recommendations on my phone.

“Ano ’yon?”

“Huge weekend market.”

“Okay,” he said. I asked him kung may gusto pa siyang puntahan but it seemed like okay na siya sa temple run na ginawa namin yesterday.

The market was exactly as described—enormous, crowded, and filled with everything imaginable. We spent hours wandering through narrow aisles, looking at things. I wanted to buy some, but stopped myself. Nagpromise nga pala ako na mag-iipon ako. Kahit na for sure si Milo ang bibili ng house namin, I will force him to at least let me buy the furnitures, noh!

On the evening, we found a nice place that served traditional Thai food. The food was incredible, as always. After that, we just walked around, hand in hand, and for some reason, it just felt perfect. Parang perfect naman lagi basta kasama ko siya.

And on our final day in Bangkok, I decided na pumunta ulit kami sa temple since iyon talaga ang interest ni Milo apparently. There was a small shrine where visitors could make offerings and prayers. I watched other tourists and locals lighting incense, leaving flowers, taking moments of quiet contemplation.

“Do you want to make a prayer?” I asked.

Milo nodded. I bought incense sticks and found a quiet spot at the shrine. Closing my eyes, I tried to figure out what I actually wanted to ask for.

‘Please,’ I prayed, not sure who I was addressing but needing to say the words anyway. ‘Please let Milo pass the BAR exam. He’s worked so hard, and he deserves this chance to build the life he wants. Let him become the lawyer he’s meant to be.’

I paused, then added, ‘And please let me pass, too, so we can build that life together.’

When I opened my eyes, Milo was watching me with a gentle expression.

“What?” I asked with a smile.

He took his time, standing quietly with his eyes closed for several minutes. When he finished, he looked more peaceful than I’d seen him since before BAR review started.

“What did you pray for?” I asked as we walked back down the temple stairs.

“Nagpasalamat lang ako.”

“For what?”

“For you,” he said. My lips parted at the way he said it so casually.

I pressed my lips together. “Iyon lang ang pinagpasalamat mo?”

He nodded. “All the good things in my life are tied to you, so it was more of a general thank you.”

I bit the insides of my cheek. Tsk. Kainis!

Near the exit of the temple complex, there was a small stand kung saan may red string bracelets.

“Can we?” I asked Milo.

“Okay,” he replied.

We got two simple red strings, and the monk blessed them. Standing in the shade, I tied the string around Milo’s wrist while he held completely still.

“There,” I said when I’d finished the knot. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise me that no matter what happens with the results, no matter what jobs we get or where we end up working, we’ll remember this. We’ll remember how we felt right now.”

“I promise.”

“And promise me that we’ll come back here someday. When we’re both lawyers, when we’ve figured out our careers, when we’re older and more settled. Promise me we’ll come back and remember what it felt like to be young and in love and figuring everything out together.”

“I promise.”

The red string felt strange around my wrist, but also comforting. A physical reminder of the commitment we’d just made to each other, to whatever future we were building together.

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Chapter 50

The months between September and December felt like living in suspended animation.

After the adrenaline of the BAR exam wore off and we returned from Thailand, reality settled in with an uncomfortable weight. Hindi na kami law student pero hindi pa rin kami lawyer. We existed in this strange liminal space, waiting for three months to find out if everything we’d worked for had been worth it.

We were stuck in a limbo.

Nakaka-baliw.

Milo went back to work after we returned from Bangkok, slipping back into his old routine at the firm like he’d never left. I could see the relief in his shoulders when he had structure again, something concrete to focus on instead of just waiting and wondering.

For me, the transition was more complicated.

Job offers had started coming in even before we took the BAR exam, law firms wanting to secure promising candidates early. But most of them required signing contracts contingent on passing the BAR, and I found myself paralyzed by the decision.

What if I signed with a firm and then failed?

What if I passed but hated the job I’d committed to?

Ayoko lang magcommit sa work na hindi ko pala talaga gusto… kagaya nung nangyari nung internship ko. I was more thankful than ever sa parents ko. Had my situation been any different, I would’ve been forced to find a job na baka hindi ko pala talaga magustuhan.

Mom’s right—I have a choice.

And I am really grateful for that.

“You’re overthinking this,” Sage said during one of our Sunday family dinners in October. “Just pick one.”

“It’s hard, okay? When I read the emails, they all seem okay naman,” I said, pushing food around my plate. “The corporate jobs pay more but the work will be boring for sure. The firms do more interesting cases but the hours will definitely kill me.”

“So, which do you prefer?” Sage asked. “To be bored or to be exhausted?”

“Tss. ’Yan lang options ko?”

“Yup. You chose the lawyer life.”

“Tsk. Not everyone can make money while playing games!”

“I know,” he said smugly.

I rolled my eyes and then sighed. “I just… I want to make the right choice.”

“May time ka pa naman to decide,” Sage replied. “Results don’t come out until December.”

But that was exactly the problem—December felt both forever away and terrifyingly close.

---

The weeks of indecision were making me restless. Every morning, I’d open my laptop and read all the emails of job offers. All of them were good offers for underbar associate… but still, hindi pa rin ako makapagdesisyon. I knew I’d be working as underbar associate for just two months at most, pero mahaba pa rin ang two months! My internship alone felt so long kahit summer lang naman siya nangyari.

So, I knew that I needed to be smart about this.

Hindi na ’to basta internship—this is my legal career already.

Wow, that felt so mature of me.

One afternoon when I couldn’t concentrate on anything productive (I was literally doing a table of pros and cons), I decided to visit Mom at BGY Law just to get out of my condo.

The BGY office was impressive—floor-to-ceiling windows, marble lobby, the kind of place that screamed success and prestige. I mean, they did work for it. I remember growing up, kahit nasa vacation kami, parang extension lang ng office kasi lagi kong nakikita sila Tito Jax, Yago, and Dad na may kausap pa rin na clients. It’s basically a 24/7 job tending to clients… well, in their defense, they did pay for it. Ang laki kaya ng retainer fee ng firm.

I wanted to have lunch with Mom, but she was in a meeting. I waited in the reception area, flipping through magazines and trying not to think about BAR results. I could’ve waited in her office, pero puro legal books doon. Trying not to look at those, thank you very much.

“Saffron?”

I looked up to see Tito Yago emerging from the elevator.

“Tito Yago! Hi!”

“Visiting your mom?” he immediately asked.

I nodded. “Yup, but she’s in a meeting. I’m just here para mangggulo. Just killing time while waiting for results.”

“Ah, the waiting period. I remember that torture.” He settled on the couch across from me. “Kamusta?”

“Not well. I’m supposed to be deciding on job offers, but I can’t commit to anything when I don’t even know if I passed.”

“From which firms?” Tito asked.

I listed the firms, the corporate opportunities, watching his expression grow more proud.

“All good options,” he said finally. “Wala ka bang gusto?”

“That’s the problem. They’re all fine, but nothing feels… right. Plus most of them want me to sign contracts now, contingent on passing, and what if I don’t pass? What if ayoko pala doon? I can’t just decide one day not to show up, right?”

Tito Yago was quiet for a moment, then smiled in the way that meant he was about to say something either very wise or very troublesome.

“Why can’t you just work here?”

I blinked at him. “Here? At BGY?”

Tito shrugged. “Why not? You need a job, we’re always looking for bright associates.”

“Tito, wouldn’t that be… nepotism?”

He laughed. “Saffron, you literally graduated valedictorian from SCA. Ask yourself—if you applied here like any other candidate, are we insane enough to reject you?”

“But still…” I shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t want to take someone else’s spot.”

“We’ve already accepted our planned number of underbar associates for this year—you can ask the HR to confirm kung ayaw mong maniwala sa akin. If anything, we’d create a new position for you, so you wouldn’t be taking anyone’s spot.” He leaned forward. “Look, this is just something to consider. I’m certain na tatanggapin ka kahit saan mo pa gustong mag-apply.”

“I just… I don’t know.”

“Think about it. No pressure,” he said. “And if I were being honest, if the valedictorian of SCA or Brent sent us an email asking for a spot here? We’ll definitely make space for them—we’ll be crazy not to, don’t you agree?”

That evening, I brought up the conversation with Milo over dinner at his apartment.

“Tito Yago offered me a position at BGY today,” I said, twirling pasta around my fork.

“Your parents’ firm?”

“It’s actually Tito—” I said and then paused. “Yup,” I continued. I knew what he meant.

“What do you think?”

“I’m worried about the nepotism thing. You know how I feel about that.”

Milo set down his fork and looked at me seriously. “Can I say something?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry for calling you a nepo baby when we first met.”

I laughed. “Milo, I was just kidding around when I mentioned—”

“No, I’m serious. I know that bothered you, and I’ve seen how hard you work in class. You deserve everything you’ve achieved. I was being an ass because I was—” he paused. I looked at him and waited for him to continue what he was saying, but… silence was enough. Alam ko naman kung ano iyong gusto niyang sabihin.

“I know you didn’t mean it,” I said in his stead.

“I did mean it at the time, and I was wrong. That’s what I’m apologizing for.”

I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Thank you. But you know, the concern still stands. What if people think I only got the job because of connections?”

“Can I play devil’s advocate?”

“Sure.”

“If you accept an offer anywhere else, won’t it be the same? You’ll be taking someone’s spot. But at BGY, they’re creating a new position specifically for you. Technically, you’re not taking anything away from anyone.”

I considered this. “I mean… you’re right.”

See? This is why I love having a smart boyfriend. He’s right. If I accept a position somewhere else, meron pa rin namang mawawalan ng spot dahil sa akin. Why didn’t I realize this? Because I was too busy overthinking and Milo, once again, was the voice of reason.

“Exactly.”

“And the salary is actually better.”

Milo nodded. “Mas mabilis na natin mabibili ’yung bathtub.”

I laughed. “Are you trying to convince me to take it?”

“I’m trying to help you think through your options without the guilt that’s clearly eating at you,” he said as he gently caressed my knuckle. It felt so comforting.

The next day, I immediately called Tito Yago and accepted the position.

---

Working at BGY turned out to be everything Tito Yago had described—challenging, educational, and completely free of special treatment. Mom even sat me down nung malaman niya na sa BGY din ako magwowork. She specifically told me not to ask for any special treatment and that she most likely will not work with me. I was fine with it. Wala naman talaga akong balak mag-ask ng special treatment.

I was assigned to work under Tito Jax. Tito Jax briefly introduced me to a senior associate—it was all very formal. I even called him Atty. Yuchengco!

For the whole day, I was assigned for research tasks first. It was hard and demanding since I needed to familiarize myself with the facts of the case, but it was fine. I liked being busy kasi na-realize ko na hindi talaga ako for idle time! I was so bored nung first week after the BAR. Feeling ko agad nagdedecompose iyong braincells ko.

So, safe to say that I loved working in BGY—iba pala talaga kapag big firm compared sa midsized. It’s like everything’s happening all at once that you need to keep up or else maiiwan ka.

With Milo, our relationship had settled into something that felt genuinely adult for the first time. I’d wake up in the morning, shower and dress for work, then head to whichever place we’d decided on the night before. Some nights I’d drive to Milo’s place after work, other nights he’d come to my condo. We’d cook dinner, watch TV, talk about our days like actual working adults instead of stressed students.

“I like this version of us,” I told Milo one evening in November as we cooked pasta in my kitchen. He was stirring the sauce while I attempted to time the pasta correctly.

“What version?”

“Working people version. Where we talk about office drama instead of recit.”

“You have office drama?”

I eagerly nodded. “And I’ve heard some people whispering about why I’m there.”

“Sigurado ka?”

I nodded. “Well, they’re looking at me while whispering, so I’m kinda sure na ako nga iyong pinag-uusapan nila,” I told him. “But it’s just the usual ’Siya ba ’yung anak ni Atty. CVB? ’ or ’Must be nice to be her. ’”

Milo stopped stirring the sauce and looked at me. “Okay ka lang ba?”

I shrugged. “I think it bothers me more than it should. I know I’m qualified, but hearing people question whether I deserve to be there…”

“Saffron, listen to me.” He set down the wooden spoon and turned to face me completely. “You deserve to be there. You deserve to be anywhere you want to be. And I’m not saying that because I’m your boyfriend and I have to say nice things about you.”

I looked at him. “Then why are you saying it?”

“Because I’ve watched you work for four years. I’ve seen how you think, how you analyze problems, how you never give up until you understand something completely. You’re the smartest person I know, and that has nothing to do with who your parents are.”

“But—”

“No buts. Those people whispering? They’re probably intimidated by you and looking for reasons to dismiss your qualifications. Don’t give them that power.”

I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease. “You really think I’m smart?”

“I think you’re brilliant. And more importantly, I know that you know you’re brilliant, even when other people try to make you doubt it.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I hate that you know me so well sometimes.”

“You’re right. When you’re all I think about, it’s easy to notice everything.”

I felt my cheeks heating up. Tsk. Pakilig na naman ’to! “Whatever,” I said, sucking my cheeks in. “But I guess it’s better na ito iyong problem ko kaysa nagwoworry ako about BAR.”

“You worry?” he asked in a lighthearted manner.

I pouted again. “Duh!” I said. “Also, didn’t we agree not to talk about BAR results?”

“You brought it up.”

“Tss.”

He laughed and then wrapped his arms around. “Okay. Hindi na. Iba na lang pag-usapan natin,” he said. “Where do you want us to live? I was thinking somewhere in the Metro pa rin since nandito iyong family mo.”

“I know, but ang mahal pala ng lupa dito!”

He laughed. “Ngayon mo lang nalaman?”

“Tsk. Yeah. Welcome to adulthood, I guess.”

“Welcome,” Milo said, hugging me closer, “You’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’m right here with you.”

---

December arrived with the kind of nervous energy that made my skin feel too tight.

The rumors about passing rates didn’t help. Every day, someone had heard something new about how the BAR chair wanted na mahigpit sa checking, how the passing rate might be lower than usual, at kung anu-ano pang chismis na hindi nakaka-tulong sa anxious self ko.

“Don’t listen to gossip,” Milo said when I mentioned the latest rumor I’d heard about a less than 20% passing rate. “Nobody knows anything until the Supreme Court releases the official results.”

“But what if—”

“No what ifs. We did our best. We answered every question. We’re either lawyers or we’re not, and worrying about it won’t change the outcome.”

I sighed.

Tama na naman siya.

His calm rationality was both comforting and infuriating. I wanted to share his zen approach, but my brain seemed incapable of anything except worst-case scenario planning.

Work provided some distraction, but even Tito Jax seemed to understand that I was operating at maybe 75% capacity during December. I mean, hindi lang naman ako. Lahat ng underbar assocs, ramdam na ramdam na iyong stress sa papalapit na announcement ng results.

However, my first paycheck as an underbar associate arrived that same week—arguably the only good thing na nangyari ngayong December so far. I decided to do something that felt appropriately momentous. I planned an elaborate dinner for Milo and me, something that would celebrate both my first earned income and our survival of the waiting period.

I made reservations at the nicest restaurant I could afford with my paycheck (after I bought gifts for my parents), then sent Milo a formal invitation via email, complete with dress code specifications and RSVP requirements.

“Seryoso ba ’tong RSVP?” he called to ask after receiving it.

“Dead serious. This is a formal dinner celebration.”

“Of what, exactly?”

“My financial independence and our continued sanity.”

He laughed. “Okay.”

“Dress nicely. I’m talking actual dress shirt and slacks, not your usual post-work uniform.”

“I don’t have a post-work uniform.”

“You have maybe five shirts you rotate in between.”

“Ten,” he said. “Kasama na sa rotation ’yung binili mo sa akin.”

“Right. Maybe on my birthday, let me buy you shirts again.”

“Pag-iisipan ko.”

“Tsk.”

“They’re good shirts.”

“They are good shirts! Kaya let me buy you sa birthday ko, okay? Birthday girl ang masusunod,” I said. “But tonight calls for your best shirt.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

The restaurant was exactly the kind of place I’d dreamed of being able to afford with my own money. Not necessarily expensive by my family’s standards, but expensive by the standards of a new law graduate earning her own salary for the first time.

Milo showed up in a navy button-down that I’d never seen before, looking handsome and slightly nervous.

“New shirt?” I asked.

He nodded. “Dumaan ako sa mall bago pumunta dito.”

“For me?”

He nodded.

Tsk.

Siya naman ’yung bumili para sa sarili niya, pero bakit parang ako iyong kinilig?!

For me, I’d chosen a red dress that struck the right balance between celebratory and sophisticated, and I could see Milo’s appreciation in the way his eyes lingered on me as I walked toward him in the restaurant lobby.

“You look beautiful,” he said, offering me his arm.

“You look pretty good yourself.”

Dinner was perfect. We ordered wine, shared appetizers, talked about everything except BAR results. I told him about the office politics, he told me about the cases he was working on (I did ask him about office politics sa work niya but Milo being Milo, he said na hindi siya aware… Although baka wala lang siyang pakielam which, really, good for him!), and for two hours we were just two young professionals enjoying an expensive meal together.

“I can’t believe I’m paying for this with my own money,” I said as we waited for dessert. “Like I actually earned the right to be here instead of just having it handed to me.”

I was super thankful that Milo didn’t wrestle the bill out of my hand. Ito siguro ang technique? Sabihin in advance na ako ang magbabayad?

“You’ve always earned everything you’ve gotten.”

“Not the same way. This is money I made by working, not money I had because of who my parents are—or you know, I blackmailed kay Sage.”

Milo laughed. “I’m proud of you.”

“For working?”

“For becoming independent, for making your own money.”

“Tito Jax isn’t easy.”

He laughed again kasi alam niya iyong reklamo mo kay Tito Jax since napaka-arte niya sa pleadings!

When we got back to my condo, I put on soft jazz music from my vinyl collection and we danced slowly in my living room, just swaying to the rhythm. This felt more intimate than any fancy restaurant—just the two of us, in my space, celebrating small victories while waiting for bigger answers.

“Thank you,” I said with my head resting against his chest.

“For what?”

“For being patient with my anxiety. For not making me feel crazy for worrying about results.”

“You’re not crazy.”

“I feel crazy sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m right here.”

We kissed slowly, tasting wine and contentment, and I felt more relaxed than I had in weeks. The music continued around us, and I closed my eyes, letting myself get lost in the moment.

That’s when I felt something cool against my skin.

I opened my eyes to find Milo fastening a delicate gold chain around my neck, his fingers gentle at the nape of my neck as he worked the clasp.

“Ano ’to?” I asked, reaching up to touch the pendant.

Milo gave a small nod, as if urging me na tignan iyong hawak ko.

I held the small charm up to catch the light, and my breath caught. It was a tiny saffron flower, detailed and beautiful, hanging from the gold chain like something precious.

“Milo…”

“I had it made kasi wala palang nabibili na saffron pendant,” he said, and I could hear nervousness in his voice. “It took three different jewelers before I found someone who could do a saffron flower properly.”

“You had this made?”

“My first salary after going back to work.”

I felt tears starting in my eyes. “Milo…”

“And I want you to know that when I get my first salary as a lawyer—when we both get our first salaries as lawyers—I’m going to get you something even better.”

“Pero super okay na ’to… This is already perfect, Milo.”

“You deserve more than perfect.”

He cupped my face in his hands, and I could see how serious he was.

“Thank you for sticking with me through everything,” he said. “Through law school, through the breakup, through BAR review, through all of this waiting. I know the sacrifices you made, the ways you supported me even when I didn’t ask for help. I promise I’m going to work hard to give you a better life, better experiences, everything you deserve.”

“I don’t expect anything,” I said, though my voice was thick with emotion. “I’m just happy to be with you.”

“Exactly. All the more reason I want to give you everything.”

He smiled, and there was something playful in his expression despite the serious conversation.

“I can’t promise you the life your parents gave you—masyado silang mayaman—but I’ll try to come close,” he said in a light tone.

I laughed despite my tears. “Don’t worry. When we get married, I’ll keep my name so we can hijack the B in BGY Law.”

“Settled ka na sa work mo?”

I shrugged. “Yeah… it’s surprisingly okay. I didn’t have any expectation, but malaki iyong firm and wala talagang favoritism na nangyayari. I barely even see my own mother dahil lagi siyang nasa meeting. I think it works perfectly.”

“Good to hear,” Milo said.

“Also… it doesn’t hurt na malaki ’yung sweldo.”

He laughed. “For the bathtub?”

“Definitely for the bathtub.”

We kissed again, slow and sweet, and I felt the weight of the saffron pendant against my chest like a promise of everything we were working toward together.

---

December 21st arrived with all the subtlety of a natural disaster.

BAR results were scheduled to be released at 4PM, which meant the entire day was an exercise in controlled panic. I woke up at 6AM despite having no reason to be up early, my heart already racing with anticipation and dread.

“Who decided to release results three days before Christmas?” reklamo ko kay Milo as we ate a breakfast I was too nervous to taste. “It’s either going to be the best Christmas ever or the worst Christmas ever.”

“Humor ni Justice Reyes.”

“Hindi funny ’yung humor niya.”

“It’s a little funny—in a dark way.”

I had already decided I couldn’t handle waiting alone, but I also didn’t want to inflict my anxiety on Milo if he preferred to wait by himself.

“You don’t have to stay here with me,” I said as we settled on my couch with a movie queued up on Netflix. “I know I’m going to be impossible to be around today,” sabi ko sa kanya. I’d for sure be spiralling the entire day hanggang sa makita ko ’yung pangalan namin sa results.

“I want to be here to hold your hand.”

“What if we both fail?”

“Then we’ll figure out what’s next.”

“What if I pass and you don’t?”

“Then I’ll be happy for you and figure out what’s next.”

“What if you pass and I don’t?”

“Then I’ll help you figure out what’s next.”

“What if—”

“Saffron.”

“What?”

“Let’s just watch the movie.”

I’d turned my phone off completely, unable to handle the anxiety of every notification sound. The plan was to check results together on my laptop when they were officially released, but I couldn’t even look at the device without my heart rate spiking.

The movie was a romantic comedy we’d seen before, something light and distracting that required no emotional investment. But I couldn’t concentrate on anything except the time stamp in the corner of my screen.

1:47PM. Two hours and thirteen minutes.

Every time Milo stood up, I jumped.

“Punta lang ako sa CR,” he said after I’d grabbed his arm when he tried to get off the couch.

2:23PM. One hour and thirty-seven minutes.

“Kuha lang ako ng tubig,” he explained when I startled again as he reached for his empty glass.

By 3:30PM, I’d stopped reacting to his movements. The anxiety had reached a point where I felt almost dissociated from it, like I was watching someone else have a panic attack rather than experiencing it myself.

“Five more minutes,” Milo said, checking his phone.

“I don’t think I can look.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll look first.”

“What if my name isn’t there?”

“Then we’ll deal with it.”

“What if your name isn’t there?”

“Then we’ll deal with it.”

“What if neither of our names are there?”

“Then we’ll really need to deal with it.”

At exactly 4:02 PM, Milo’s phone buzzed with a notification. He picked it up, and I watched his face change as he read whatever was on the screen.

“What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer immediately, just stared at his phone with an expression I couldn’t read.

“Milo, what is it?”

He stood up and walked toward me, and I felt my heart stop completely.

“My very smart girlfriend,” he said, settling beside me on the couch.

I stared at him, not understanding.

“Congratulations, Saffron. I never doubted you.”

He turned his phone screen toward me, and I saw the Supreme Court’s official live stream showing the BAR examination results. At the top of the list, in bold letters:

1. BORROMEO, SAFFRON ROSE V. - 88.77%

2. DELGADO, MAXIMILIANO JOSE R. - 85.21%

I stared at the screen for several seconds, not quite believing what I was seeing.

“…seryoso ba ’to?” I asked, staring at Milo. My brain was not functioning. “We… passed?”

“We passed.”

“We both passed.”

“We both passed.”

“I got the highest score,” I said in pure disbelief. “ You got the second highest score,“ I immediately added dahil mas focused ata siya sa score ko and hindi sa score niya.

He was still silent.

Was he in pure disbelief, too?

“Milo, you got the second highest score!” I shouted. “Oh, my god! Pwede na ba tayo magdemand ng higher salary?!”

“I got the second highest score,” he just said.

I looked at him, and damn, I was so proud of him.

My boyfriend.

My smart and hardworking boyfriend.

And then I was crying, huge gulping sobs that came from somewhere deep in my chest. All the stress and anxiety and fear of the past months poured out of me at once, leaving me feeling emptied and relieved and overwhelmed.

Milo wrapped his arms around me and held me while I cried, and when I finally calmed down enough to look at him, I saw that his eyes were wet, too.

“We’re lawyers,” I said.

“We’re lawyers.”

“Top notchers,” I told him.

He smiled, he cried, and he hugged me.

My phone started ringing from the kitchen counter where I’d abandoned it, probably family members calling with congratulations. In a few minutes, we’d need to answer those calls, accept congratulations, make plans for celebration dinners and oath-taking ceremonies.

But for now, it was just us, sitting on my couch, holding each other and processing the reality that everything we’d worked for had actually happened.

“So,” I said after a while, “what do lawyers do on their first day of being lawyers?”

“Stare at the ceiling in disbelief?”

“After that?”

“I think they celebrate.”

“How do they celebrate?”

“However they want. They’re lawyers now. They can do anything.”

I looked at him, this person who’d been my rival and my partner and my support system and my love, who’d worked harder than anyone I knew and deserved this success more than anyone I could imagine.

“Attorney Delgado,” I called.

“Attorney Borromeo,” he called back.

And sitting there in my living room, holding the results that proved we’d both made it through the most challenging thing either of us had ever attempted, I knew that whatever came next—job decisions, career paths, the house with the perfect bathtub—we’d figure it out together.

We were lawyers now. We could handle anything.

The future was waiting, and for the first time in months, I wasn’t afraid of it at all.

** This story is already completed at patreon.com/beeyotch. Subscription starts at $3 per month for all stories. You can also join the patreon facebook group. You can email beeyotchpatreon@gmail.com for assistance :) Thank you!

Epilogue

Akala ko hindi na naman ako makaka-bisita. I’d been really busy with work—I was drowning in work, but it’s fine. I did ask for it—literally. I emailed the partners to assign more cases. They did ask me why. I was honest about my reason.

Hinawi ko ’yung mga dahon sa taas ng puntod. I should probably ask the office here kung mayroon bang pwedeng bayaran na caretaker para linisin iyong puntod. I could afford it now. I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself. Wow. Ang layo na rin pala talaga ng narating ko.

“Hi, Ma,” I started, the way I always did. “Sorry kung ngayon lang ulit ako naka-balik. Busy sa work. I know you’d understand.”

Tahimik pa sa sementeryo. Siguro dahil maaga pa. Gusto kasing pumunta agad dito para sabihin kay Mama ’yung balita.

“I passed, Ma. I’m a lawyer now.” The words still felt surreal even after five years. Parang kahapon lang pinag-iisipan ko pang mabuti kung mag-e-enroll ba agad ako—kung kakayanin ba ng sweldo ko. I was grateful that I just decided to go for it. Hindi ko maisip kung ano ang buhay ko ngayon kung hindi ako pumasok sa law school.

I wouldn’t be a lawyer now.

And I wouldn’t have Saffron in my life.

I can’t even begin to think what my life would be without her… probably quiet… and boring.

“Second place. 85.21%,” I told her. “If you were alive, you’d probably be curious kung sino ’yung tumalo sa akin sa first place,” I continued. “I wasn’t surprised—I’d always known that she’s smarter.”

I paused, running my thumb over the edge of the headstone.

“Oo nga pala. Tumawag sila Tita.” I drew a deep breath. “They congratulated me. Said they always knew I’d make it. That I got my intelligence from their side of the family.”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

“You’re probably still angry about what happened, Ma. I know you’ll always wonder about the what ifs.”

The anger sat heavy in my chest, the way it always did when I thought about them.

“I told them thank you. I was polite. But Ma…” I briefly closed my eyes. “I can’t carry the anger the way you did. It weighs too much. It’s too heavy to bring into the life I’m building. So, I’m not going to be mad anymore—not the way you wanted me to be. But I’m not going to forget either. I’ll remember exactly who they were when it mattered. And I won’t let them pretend they were there.”

I let the silence settle between us, the way she used to let me work through my thoughts.

“But I didn’t come here to talk about them.” I shifted, settling into a more comfortable position. “I came to tell you about Saffron.”

Just saying her name made something in my chest loosen.

“I know I mentioned her before. The girl from law school. The one I said I’d tell you more about later.” I smiled despite being by myself. “Well, it’s later now. And Ma… there’s a lot to tell.”

---

I saw her for the first time during enrollment.

The registrar’s office was packed—puno ng mga kagaya ko na gustong pumasok sa law school. The thing that differed me from them probably was that I was counting inside my head kung magkano iyong kakailanganin ko para matapos ko ’yung buong four years. Four years lang. I couldn’t afford to extend even for a sem longer. Kaya ko kayang gawing 3.5 years? Possible ba ’yon?

I was quietly waiting in line when I heard her voice.

“Saffron Rose Borromeo,” she said to the staff, clear and confident.

I froze.

Borromeo.

The name hit me like a punch to the gut. How many times had I heard that name growing up? How many times had my mother said it with bitterness in her voice, explaining why we lived the way we did while other people had everything?

Hinding-hindi ko makakalimutan ’yung apelido na ’yon.

I turned to look at her, and saw exactly what I expected. Designer bag. Expensive watch. The kind of effortless put-together look that screamed money. She was laughing at something the staff said, completely at ease, like she belonged everywhere she went.

Of course she was a Borromeo.

I felt something cold and sharp settle in my chest. Anger. Resentment. All the years of struggling while people like her glided through life on family connections and inherited wealth.

It was like I was a child again listening to his mother tell him about the what could have beens.

And right there and then, I told myself right then that I wasn’t going to like her.

On the first day of class, maaga akong dumating sa school. Tinapos ko agad lahat ng kailangan kong tapusin sa trabaho—iyong mga hindi ko matatapos, iuuwi ko na lang. Ma-swerte na rin ako sa trabaho dahil naiintindihan nila na nasa law school na ako. I just needed to inform them kung may exams ako. They’d accommodate me. Pero ayokong umabuso. I still needed to do my best at work.

I already knew my way around the school. Nag-ikot na ako dito dati. I just wanted to see kung saan napunta iyong pera ko. They said that this was the best law school in the Philippines—and if I wanted to be something in this field, mas maganda na dito ako mag-enroll. They said it would open wider doors for me kumpara sa kung sa ibang school ako papasok.

Fine.

Papasok na lang din ako sa law school, might as well go to the best one—I knew my mother would approve.

I was walking toward the classroom when someone stepped out of the hallway, not looking where they were going.

I bumped into her.

Coffee splashed everywhere—almost.

“Oh, my god!” she gasped.

The apology was already forming in my mouth. I was not an asshole. I was raised to apologize when I made mistakes. But then I saw her face.

Saffron Rose Borromeo.

The apology died on my tongue.

She was staring at me, waiting for me to say something—anything. Her expression shifted from surprise to disbelief as the seconds ticked by and I said nothing.

I should have apologized. Any decent person would have.

Instead, I walked away.

I heard her make a sound of frustration behind me, but I didn’t look back. I told myself I didn’t care. She probably had a dozen other expensive clothes at home anyway. Saka hindi naman siya natapunan. OA lang siya.

When I walked into the classroom, I scanned for an empty seat. Most were already taken—people clustered in groups, already forming friend groups.

There was one seat in front. I headed for it.

Tahimik akong naupo doon. I was reading my notes. Sabi naman nila walang recit sa unang araw… but then again, you’d never know. I didn’t want to be caught with nothing to say kung sakaling biglang magka-recitation.

I was fine by myself nang biglang may maupo malapit sa akin.

Napa-tingin ako doon.

Her.

She was about to put her things on the empty chair between us when she paused. When she saw me, her expression changed. She raised an eyebrow—not questioning, but challenging. Pissed off, rightfully so.

I looked away and ignored her. I forced myself to focus. I wasn’t here to make friends. I was here to learn, to pass, to become a lawyer. To prove that I could do it without family connections or money.

I wasn’t here for her.

After class—na mukhang wala naman nga kagaya ng sinabi sa akin—lumabas muna ako. Agad na nakita ko na kausap niya iyong Dean namin. They looked acquainted with each other. Of course they would be.

“Tito—I mean Dean,” I heard her say, her voice bright with familiarity.

Tito.

She called the Dean ‘Tito.’

When her friendly conversation ended, she almost ran into me. I must have been standing there longer than I thought.

“What?” she asked, noticing my expression.

I should have kept walking. Should have kept my mouth shut.

Instead, I scoffed and said, loud enough for her to hear, ’ Nepo baby .’

Her eyes widened. “What the heck is your problem?!”

I didn’t answer. I just walked away, that cold satisfaction settling in my chest.

She had everything handed to her. Family connections. Money. A safety net I’d never had.

I wasn’t going to feel bad about pointing it out.

---

“I was such an asshole to her,” I told Ma now, guilt threading through my words. “I was hostile to her from day one, and she didn’t even know why. She didn’t do anything to deserve it except have her last name.”

I ran a hand through my hair.

“I told myself I had good reasons. That she represented everything wrong with the system. That she didn’t earn her place the way I had to earn mine. That she was privileged and spoiled and didn’t understand what real struggle looked like.”

I drew another deep breath.

“But the truth is… I was just scared. Scared that even after everything—all the work, all the sacrifice—it still wouldn’t be enough. That people like her would always have an advantage I could never overcome.”

---

She invited me to dinner once.

“Dinner daw,” she said, using that polite tone that was clearly forced. “With blockmates.”

She paused, then added quickly, “I mean, after all, we’re still block mates naman.”

I could see she was trying. Despite everything—the coffee incident, the hostility, me calling her a nepo baby—she was still trying to be civil.

“No, thanks,” I said.

“Whatever,” she replied, but I caught the flicker of something in her expression. Hurt, maybe. Or frustration.

I told myself I didn’t care.

After an hour, Sir still hadn’t shown up. Free cut. Everyone started packing up, making plans.

One of our blockmates approached me. “Sama ka sa dinner?”

“San ba?”

“Cristo’s.”

Cristo’s. I’d seen the prices on that restaurant’s menu once. A single entrée cost more than my food budget for a week.

“Pass,” I said.

“Okay. I think we’ll drink after dinner. Sunod ka na lang.”

“Okay,” I said, already knowing I wouldn’t go.

After they left, I headed to the library. I had reading to catch up on, and the library was free. Plus, it was air-conditioned, which meant I wasn’t wasting electricity at my apartment.

I was halfway through a case when I sensed someone watching me.

I looked around.

She was standing in the doorway—Saffron—staring at me with this expression I couldn’t quite read.

Our eyes met for a second, then she mouthed something I couldn’t make out and left.

I stared at the empty doorway for longer than I should have.

“Nerd,” I imagined her thinking. Kasi kakatapos lang ng klase tapos nandito na naman ako para mag-aral. But who was she to judge? Lagi ko rin naman siyang nakikitang nagbabasa.

I went back to my reading, but the book suddenly seemed less interesting.

Hours later, I found myself in a club.

I didn’t do clubs. Clubs were expensive—door charges, overpriced drinks, the expectation that you’d keep buying drinks. But the block invited me, and I’d calculated that I could afford one beer. Just one. I’d nurse it all night if I had to.

I was standing by the railing on the second floor, beer in hand, when I saw her.

Saffron.

She was on the dance floor, moving to the music with a confidence that seemed at odds with the nervous, proper girl I’d seen in class. She looked… free. Unguarded.

Was this her outside school?

I couldn’t look away.

She must have felt my stare because suddenly she was looking right at me. Our eyes locked across the crowded club, the music and lights and people fading into background noise.

I should have looked away. The polite thing would have been to avert my gaze.

But I didn’t.

She raised an eyebrow at me—a challenge.

I didn’t react. Just kept looking at her, this infuriating girl who took up way too much space in my head.

A full minute passed. Neither of us looked away.

Finally, she mouthed, ’ Fuck you .’

Something sparked in my chest—amusement, maybe. Or admiration for her boldness.

I mouthed back, ’ You wish .’

Her expression shifted—surprise, then something else I couldn’t name.

Then she turned back to our blockmates, and I was left standing there, wondering what the hell had just happened.

I told myself that I wouldn’t go near her. She’s… not someone I should get involved with. I should be okay with just looking from a distance. But then some idiot decided that it was a good idea to bother her. Sinabi ko sa sarili ko na hindi naman ako gago para bayaan lang siya.

“Mind your own business,” the drunken idiot said.

I didn’t want to get into a fight—more so makipag-away sa lasing. Baka mas lumaki lang iyong gulo at mapunta pa kami sa presinto. I had no rich family who’d bail me out. Mabuti na lang at meron kaming HMO sa trabaho kaya pwede naman siguro akong masuntok… but then again, ayokong mag-explain sa trabaho kung bakit may pasa ako, kung sakali mang masuntok ako. ’Di naman ako expert sa pakikipag-away. I knew I’d get punched if I ever tried to get into a brawl.

So, I did what I thought was the smarter choice—I dragged Saffron with me.

I dragged her through the dance floor to the fire exit hanggang sa makalabas kami. She was asking me about Prim. Wala namang Prim. Iyon lang ang unang pumasok sa utak ko dahil nanood ako ng Hunger Games kagabi.

“Let’s wait sa may entrance,” I said nang sabihin niya sa akin na susunduin siya ng kapatid niya.

She looked at me like she was trying to figure out if I was real.

I pulled out my phone, pretending to be busy, but I was hyperaware of her presence. She was staring at me—not even subtle about it.

“You’re seriously just gonna ignore me?” she finally asked.

“Do you really think silence will kill you?” I replied without looking up.

“It might. I’m not used to people not wanting to talk to me.”

“What a tragedy for you,” I said, the sarcasm automatic kapag siya ang kausap ko.

“I know, right? Usually people find me charming and delightful.”

“Usually people lie to make you feel better,” I said, glancing up to see her reaction.

Her eyes flashed. “Wow, harsh. And here I thought you were being nice by rescuing me.”

“I wasn’t being nice. I was being practical.”

“Practical how?”

“Preventing you from causing a scene and embarrassing our entire block.”

She gasped, feigning offense. “Excuse me? Me? Embarrassing?”

I just looked at her—let my expression do the talking.

“What’s that look supposed to mean?” she demanded.

I shrugged, going back to my phone.

“Oh, so now you’re back to ignoring me? Real mature.”

“You wanted to know why I helped you,” I said without looking up. “I told you.”

“You told me you were being practical. That’s not really an answer.”

“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”

“Why? Because admitting you might actually have a decent bone in your body would ruin your whole mysterious asshole vibe?”

That made me look up. “Mysterious asshole vibe?”

“Yeah, you know—brooding, antisocial, too cool for conversation. Very ’ I’m smarter than everyone else’ energy.”

Something about the way she said it irritated me more than it should have.

“Because I am smarter than everyone else,” I said.

She laughed.

Laughed.

At me.

“What?” I asked, feeling my forehead crease.

She gave me the sweetest, most condescending smile I’d ever seen. “Nothing. It’s cute how you actually believe that.” She paused, then added, “Oh, look, my brother’s finally here.”

And she walked away like she’d just won something.

I stood there, beer forgotten, watching her climb into a car.

Cute.

She’d called me cute.

That’s all my stupid mind could focus on.

And somehow, that felt more devastating than any insult she could have thrown at me.

---

“She got under my skin,” I said. “From day one, she got under my skin in a way I couldn’t shake. I tried to hate her. I tried to see her as just another privileged rich kid who didn’t deserve to be there. But she was… more than that.”

I looked up at the clouds moving across the sky. It seemed like today’s gonna be a good day.

“She is smart. Really smart—not just book smart, but sharp. Quick. She’d challenge my recitations in class, and I’d find myself looking forward to it. The back-and-forth. The way her mind works.”

---

The quiz was straightforward. Nabasa ko na ’to dahil dahil sa trabaho. Law school was definitely hard, but it wasn’t impossible—mas mahirap pa maghanap ng oras kung kailan ako mag-aaral.

I finished the quiz with time to spare.

“Exchange your paper to the person beside you,” Ma’am instructed.

I looked to my right.

Of course.

Saffron.

We handed each other our papers without speaking.

Ma’am started reading the answers, and I began checking her work. Her answers were good—as expected. She wouldn’t hear the end of it from me kung pangit ang sagot niya.

Then I looked at my own paper in her hands.

I could see her checking my answers, her expression focused. She was being fair and professional.

But when I looked back at my paper, I felt something shift in me.

One of her multiple choice answers, she probably wrote ‘A’ but her handwriting had made it look slightly ambiguous.

I could have given her the benefit of the doubt—I mean, it’s Saffron. Madali lang naman iyong tanong kaya dapat alam niya iyong sagot.

But in the name of fairness, I marked it wrong.

Kasalanan ko ba na pangit siya magsulat?

“Hey,” she whispered. “That’s obviously an A.”

“Looks like a 4 to me,” I said, not looking up.

“Are you serious right now?”

“I’m being objective.”

“Why would I put 4?! A, B, C, and D are the choices!”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I was actually wondering. Why did you put 4?”

I could feel her staring at me, could sense her anger radiating across the space between us.

For her essay, I’d like to say that I graded it accordingly—nakinig ako sa sinabi ni Ma’am na mga sagot. Kapag may kulang na sagot, binabawas ko agad. I was being fair and objective.

Ma’am called for the papers to be passed forward.

Saffron looked like she wanted to argue, to change her grading of my paper in retaliation.

Before she could, I grabbed my paper from her desk and walked it to the front.

When I came back, I couldn’t help myself.

“Thanks for the perfect score, Saffie,” I said, letting just enough smugness into my tone to make sure she heard it.

The look on her face was worth it.

Should have taken a photo of it.

---

“I was an asshole to her,” I admitted. “I was competitive and petty and I told myself it was because she needed to earn her place, that I was teaching her something. But the truth was simpler than that.”

I paused, the confession heavy.

“I was trying not to like her. And the harder I tried, the more impossible it became.”

---

I noticed she was struggling before anyone else did.

How could I not? She was all I ever thought about.

She’d gotten into an argument with someone from our block—I’d overheard parts of it in the hallway. Her recitations were getting shakier. She’d stopped raising her hand in class as much, stopped challenging my answers.

She was spiraling, and I could see it happening right before my very eyes.

One night after class, nakita ko na muntik na siya mahulog sa hagdanan. I quickly moved to help her, instinct overriding everything else.

“I’m fine!” she snapped at me, pulling away before I could reach her.

Sinundan ko siya papuntang parking lot kahit na alam kong sisigawan niya lang ako kapag nakita niya ako. I didn’t even know why. I just knew something bad was about to happen.

When she got in her car, I thought she’d at least stay there for a while to calm herself down. She was clearly upset. Instead, she turned the engine on. Agad na lumabas ako at pumara ng taxi. Sinabi ko sa taxi na sundan iyong sasakyan niya.

I had no plan—definitely no idea where she was going or what I’d do when we got there. I just knew I couldn’t let her face whatever was coming alone.

The club was packed. Loud music, flashing lights, bodies everywhere.

I never liked going to clubs but because of Saffron, I often found myself in clubs lately.

Agad na hinanap ko siya sa paligid. Ang daming tao. Where the heck—

My chest immediately tightened when I spotted her.Two guys were crowding her against the bar. She looked unsteady, drunk, vulnerable in a way I’d never seen her before.

What was going on?

May iba pa ba siyang problema bukod sa school? This couldn’t be just about school… right?

“She said let go,” I heard myself say, my voice cutting through the noise.

She turned, and even through the alcohol haze, I saw the shock in her eyes.

“Sino ka ba?” one of the guys asked. “Mind your own business.”

“She is my business,” I said, the words coming out before I could think about what they meant.

The guy stepped forward, getting in my face. “Says who? Girlfriend mo ba ’to?”

“None of your fucking business.”

He pushed my chest.

I felt my hands start to clench into fists, felt the anger rising. These assholes had been trying to take advantage of her—

“Stop!” Saffron moved between us, her hands pressing against my chest. “Just stop.”

Her touch cut through the anger instantly.

“It’s not worth it,” she said, looking up at me. “Please.”

And I realized she was right. A fight could mean arrest, a criminal record, the end of everything I’d worked for. I didn’t know what I was even thinking trying to start a fight.

I guess my logic didn’t work when it came to her.

The guys disappeared back into the crowd.

“What are you doing here?” Saffron demanded, her words slurring together.

“Your blockmates were worried,” I said. “They said you’ve been… off lately.”

“ My blockmates? Which blockmates? The ones I’ve been avoiding?“

“Sheena mentioned that you left school looking upset—”

“So what, you appointed yourself my bodyguard?” Tumaas lalo iyong boses niya. “Since when do you care what happens to me?”

“I don’t—” I stopped myself. “Look, they just asked me to check if you were okay.”

“They asked you? Why would they ask you?”

“Because I was the last person who talked to you before you left.”

She looked at me like she hated the fact that I was the one who saw her when she was falling apart. I felt guilty. Kaya ba ayaw niya na nandito ako ay dahil doon? Because I’d been an ass to her this whole time. Of course ayaw niyang makita ko siya na ganito.

“I’m fine!” She tried to push past me. “You can report back to the block that the princess is perfectly fine.”

I caught her arm.

“Hindi kita iiwan dito. You’re too drunk.”

She yanked away and nearly fell. I caught her, steadying her against my chest.

That’s when she broke.

“Why are you here?” Her voice cracked. “Why do you care what happens to me?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. Didn’t know how to explain that I’d been watching her fall apart for weeks and it had been killing me—because I felt guilty. Because I knew that somehow, I contributed to that. Kahit wala naman siyang ginagawa sa akin.

Ako lang naman ang may problema.

She’d been nothing but perfectly nice—until I pushed her too far.

“Because,” I said finally, “you looked like you were about to collapse earlier.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice getting louder. “You don’t understand what it’s like to fail at the one thing you’re supposed to be good at.”

“Saffron—”

“No, you don’t!” She was shouting now, tears streaming down her face. “You show up to class looking half-dead and still answer every question perfectly. You get the highest exam scores without even trying. You probably think it’s hilarious that the privileged princess is finally getting exposed as a fraud!”

“That’s not what I think at all.”

“Then what do you think?” The tears were coming faster now. “Tell me what you think about the girl who studies every waking moment and still can’t remember a footnote!”

I looked at her—really looked at her—and saw past the privilege, past the last name, past everything I’d been projecting onto her.

I saw a girl who was drowning under the weight of expectations. Who was terrified of failing. Who was so tired of trying to be perfect that she’d come to a club to drink herself stupid just to feel something.

“I think,” I said carefully, “that you’re being too hard on yourself.”

She laughed bitterly. “Too hard on myself? I had a panic attack in class today because I couldn’t answer one question!”

“Everyone has bad days—”

“Not everyone is supposed to be perfect!” The words poured out. “Not everyone has parents who are judges and lawyers. Not everyone has every advantage handed to them on a silver platter. When you fail, people say ’ oh well, he tried his best .’ When I fail, people say ’ what’s wrong with her? She has everything going for her .’”

I felt something shift in my chest. All this time, I’d resented her for her privilege. But I’d never considered that privilege came with its own kind of prison—the prison that Saffron’s been trapped in for who knows how long.

Her chest started heaving. She clutched her chest like she couldn’t breathe. I tried to say something but she tried to walk away again, to escape this conversation and my gaze, but I caught her wrist.

“Saan ka pupunta?”

“Anywhere but here!” She tried to pull free, but I held firm. “I just want to disappear! I want to go somewhere where nobody expects anything from me!”

“You don’t need to do that,” I said quietly. “You just need to breathe.”

“Don’t tell me what I need!” She was crying harder now, the alcohol making everything more intense. “You don’t know anything about what I need!”

But even as she said it, I noticed she wasn’t trying as hard to get away anymore. Part of her wanted to stay. I could feel it in the way she’d stopped pulling against my grip.

“You’re right,” I admitted. “I don’t know what you need. But I know you shouldn’t be here alone, drinking yourself stupid where guys are trying to take advantage of you.”

She looked around, as if seeing the club for the first time. The thick crowd, the deafening music, the predatory eyes. She was too drunk to properly defend herself.

“I just wanted one night,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “One night where I didn’t have to be perfect. Where I didn’t have to think about footnotes and cases and whether I’m smart enough to be there.”

“You are smart enough,” I said, and I meant it. Every word.

She looked up at me, searching my face.

“Then why can’t I compete with you?” The question came out raw and desperate. “Why do you make everything look so easy when I’m killing myself just to keep up?”

I was quiet for a long moment, studying her face in the flashing lights. All this time, she’d thought it was easy for me. That I just glided through law school effortlessly while she struggled.

She had no idea how many nights I’d stayed up studying because I couldn’t afford to fail. How many meals I’d skipped to save money for textbooks. How many times I’d felt like an impostor surrounded by people who belonged there more than I did.

Kadalasan, pakiramdam ko pinipilit ko lang iyong sarili ko sa law school.

Why was I even there in the first place?

To prove something?

And for what?

Would that even change anything?

“It’s not easy,” I said simply, my voice softer than I’d ever let it be with her.

Before she could process what I meant, someone bumped into her from behind, sending her stumbling forward into my chest. The crowd was getting more packed, more aggressive.

“I can’t… there’s too many people,” she gasped, the panic rising again. “I can’t breathe.”

I didn’t hesitate. I wrapped my arms around her, creating a protective barrier against the crowd.

“It’s okay,” I said into her ear, my voice calm and steady even though my heart was pounding. “I’ve got you.”

And something about the way I said it—so sure, so certain—made her believe me.

I didn’t even recognize that voice.

It sounded so foreign yet so familiar.

And I also believed that voice.

She let herself cry then. All the stress and pressure and fear she’d been holding in poured out against my chest. The panic about failing, the terror that she wasn’t smart enough, the exhaustion from trying so hard and still not being good enough.

I didn’t try to stop her or tell her it would be okay. Kasi hindi ko rin naman alam. Even I didn’t know if I’d be okay. I was just trying to live day by day. I was just trying to survive as well.

So, I just held her there in the middle of the dance floor, letting her fall apart while I kept the world at bay.

“I’m so tired,” she sobbed against my shirt. “I’m so tired of trying so hard and still not being enough.”

“You are enough,” I said quietly, my voice barely audible over the music. “But you’re killing yourself trying to prove it.”

“I don’t know how to stop.”

“Then don’t stop. Just… slow down.”

She pulled back to look at my face, and I could see her trying to understand. Why I was being kind. Why I wasn’t taking advantage of seeing her at her lowest point. Why I wasn’t walking away.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked through her tears.

The honest answer was too complicated, too dangerous. That I couldn’t not help her. That watching her hurt made me hurt. That somewhere along the way, she’d stopped being the enemy and become something I couldn’t name.

“I told you—our blockmates asked me to follow you,” I said carefully.

She looked at me like she was trying to read the truth behind the lie.

“I don’t understand you,” she whispered.

“I don’t understand you either,” I admitted. “But right now, that doesn’t matter. What matters is getting you somewhere safe.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but something in her expression shifted—acceptance, maybe. Or just exhaustion.

“Okay,” she said quietly, her voice almost lost in the music. “Okay.”

And I knew in that moment that everything had changed between us.

---

“After that night, things changed,” I told Ma. “She’d show up where I usually smoked. We’d talk. And I knew—I wasn’t stupid. I knew she liked me. It was too obvious not to notice.”

I picked at the grass.

“But I thought… as long as no one admitted to anything, it would be fine. I could keep pretending nothing was happening. I could keep my walls up. I could keep her at a safe distance where she couldn’t hurt me, where I didn’t have to accept that I fell for her—of all people I could fall for.”

---

Until one night in yet another club.

I’d been standing off to the side, nursing another single beer I’d budgeted for, when I saw her on the dance floor.

She was dancing with some guy. Too close. His hands on her waist.

Something hot and sharp twisted in my chest.

Jealousy—an already all too familiar feeling.

Before I could think about what I was doing, I was moving through the crowd.

“Saffron,” I called.

She turned. The guy she was dancing with looked annoyed, but I didn’t even acknowledge his existence. I was only looking at her.

“We’re in the middle of a song,” the guy protested.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “I need to talk to you.”

I pulled her away, toward the edge of the dance floor.

“What’s your problem?” she asked. “I was just having fun.”

“Did you forget why we’re here?” I said into her ear, close enough that she had to lean in to hear me.

Close enough that I could smell her perfume.

Close enough that I could feel her body heat.

God, I missed her.

Why was everything so complicated?

Why couldn’t I just like her?

Why did I have to worry about all these things?

Why couldn’t I just live?

“Mission accomplished,” she said with a fake smile on her face. “Sheena and I are good na.”

She started to move back toward the guy, but I caught her wrist.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to dance. He is cute.”

“He can find someone else to dance with.”

“Why should he? We were having fun.”

“You were making a scene.”

“I was dancing!”

“You were—”

She tried to pull away, but I tugged her back.

And suddenly she was pressed against my chest. Close enough that I could feel her heartbeat. Close enough that the noise of the club faded into nothing.

We stared at each other.

Her eyes were bright with alcohol and emotion. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were parted.

And then I saw it.

The moment she decided to do something.

She tilted her face up toward mine, and I realized—

She was going to kiss me.

My mind went blank with panic.

This would change everything. Once we crossed this line, there was no going back. Once I let her in, really let her in, she’d see all the parts of me I’d kept hidden.

I saw her face get closer—

And then she went limp, collapsing against my chest like she’d passed out.

“Saffron?” I caught her, my heart pounding. “Hey—”

But she wasn’t responding. She’d just… passed out.

The alcohol, I told myself. It was just the alcohol.

Not that she’d read my panic and decided to save us both the humiliation.

---

“I dodged it,” I admitted, shame coloring my voice. “She tried to kiss me and I panicked, and she… she passed out. Or pretended to. I think she pretended to. To save me from having to reject her.”

I closed my eyes.

Fuck.

Sometimes, I couldn’t believe she’s still with me—pagkatapos ng lahat ng ginawa ko sa kanya. Was she a masochist at heart? Because Saffron could do way better than me…

And for that, I would always be thankful na ako iyong pinili niya at pipiliin niya.

“And I’m sorry, Ma. I’m sorry that I can’t feel the anger you wanted me to feel. I’m sorry that I can’t carry that hatred forward.” I took a breath. “Because I love her. I love her a lot. I love her so much that I always find myself smiling when I think about her.”

The confession felt like a weight lifting.

I didn’t even know why it took me so long to tell my mother about Saffron. Because even from day one, I knew… that she would be an important part of my life—either as the person I’d build everything with or the person who’d prove me that I’d been a fool to let my walls down.

Either way, she’s destined to be someone important to me.

And I’d been a fool to deny it for so long.

“It’s been five years since we’ve been together, and it feels like just yesterday when I realized I was in love with her. Really, properly in love—the kind of love that makes you want to be better. The kind that makes you brave enough to be vulnerable.”

I drew a deep breath and smiled.

“I understand now, Ma. Now that I’m a lawyer, now that I know how the system works—Tito was really just doing his job. He was representing a client, following the law. It wasn’t personal. It was just… the law,” I continued. “Next time, ku-kwentuhan kita tungkol sa mga kaso na hawak ko. You’d probably be… surprised. I handle all kinds of cases. I can’t even complain because I requested na mabigyan ng maraming kaso. May mga bagay na pinag-iipunan ako, Ma. Pero sa susunod ko na lang sasabihin sa ’yo.”

I touched the headstone one more time.

“Saffron isn’t her family’s history. She’s her own person. And she’s… she’s everything. She’s smart and kind and she challenges me to be better. She sees past the walls I put up. She makes me want to let her in.”

I took a step back and smiled.

“I’ll visit again soon. I promise. I’ll finally bring Saffron with me. You’ll love her.”

---

The apartment was quiet when I got home.

Agad na hinanap ko si Saffron and I found her on the bed, napping. She was curled up on her side, her hair spread across the pillow. She was wearing one of my shirts—or as she’d like to call, our conjugal shirts. One of her arms was tucked under the pillow, the other draped across her stomach. She looked exactly like she did every time she came home exhausted from work and collapsed for a twenty-minute power nap that inevitably turned into an hour.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, just watching her breathe.

How did I get this lucky?

Five years ago, I’d convinced myself that people like her—people who came from money and family connections and everything I didn’t have—were the enemy. That loving her would be a betrayal of everything I stood for.

I was an idiot.

Mabuti na lang talaga hindi niya ako sinukuan.

I walked over carefully, not wanting to wake her. She looked peaceful like this, without the stress of work or the weight of expectations on her shoulders. Without the anxiety that sometimes crept into her eyes when she thought I wasn’t looking.

I leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

She stirred slightly, her nose scrunching up in that way it always did when she was half-asleep.

“I love you,” I whispered. She smiled in her sleep. Akala niya siguro nananaginip siya.

I changed out of my clothes, took a quick shower, at saka tumabi sa kanya.

---

I woke up to the smell of coffee and something cooking—eggs, maybe. Pancakes. Saffron’s here, so there were definitely pancakes.

Saffron’s side of the bed was already empty. I checked my phone. 7AM on a Saturday. She never woke up this early on weekends.

Tumayo ako at naglakad papunta sa kusina.

She was at the table, two plates of food already set out. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon. She was scrolling through her phone, her coffee mug steaming in front of her.

Normal naman iyong ginagawa niya… but something felt off.

“Good morning,” I said, walking toward her. “You’re up early.”

“I know.” She didn’t look up from her phone.

I moved to kiss her good morning—our usual routine—but she shifted slightly, just enough that my kiss landed awkwardly on the side of her head instead of her lips.

May… nagawa ba ako?

But I didn’t have the time nor the energy to piss her off—I was literally drowning in work. Lead associate ako sa maraming kaso. Even in my dreams, I was drafting pleadings and preparing for hearings.

“You made breakfast,” I said, sitting down across from her.

“Yup.” She set her phone down. Finally looked at me.

And I knew immediately that something was wrong.

“Who’s Tanya?” agad na tanong niya.

The question hit me like cold water. My mind scrambled. “Ha?”

“Tanya.” Her voice was too calm, too controlled. “Nakita ko nagtext siya sa ’yo. Sino siya? May bago kayong hire sa firm?”

Fuck. The real estate agent.

“When did you—” I started.

“Your phone kept buzzing last night while you were in the shower. I wasn’t snooping, it was just… there. On the table. Face up.” She picked up her fork, pushed some eggs around her plate without eating. “So. Who is she?”

My mind went blank. I hadn’t prepared for this. The loan wasn’t finalized yet. The house options weren’t narrowed down. I couldn’t tell her. Not yet.

“It’s—” I stopped. Started again. “It’s work related.”

The way her expression shifted—from guarded hope to something darker—made my stomach drop.

“Work related,” she repeated flatly.

“Yeah.”

“Ah… okay.” She was still pushing food around her plate, not looking at me. “Ang demanding pala niyang client—tumatawag kahit gabi pati umaga, noh?”

“Saff—”

“What?”

“I love you,” I said.

She finally looked up at me, and I could see it—the fear in her eyes, barely masked by the forced calm in her voice.

“Yeah, I know. I love you, too, but you’ve been working late almost every night for the past months. You’ve been stressed. Distracted. And now there’s some woman named Tanya na tawag nang tawag sa ’yo.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking—”

“What am I thinking, Milo?” She set her fork down. “Because I’m trying really hard not to think anything. I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. So tell me. Who is she?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. I couldn’t tell her without ruining everything. But the lie—or the omission—was already ruining things anyway.

“A client,” I said.

“Saang case?”

“You know I can’t discuss cases with you.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

She nodded slowly, her jaw tight. “Okay.”

“Saff—”

“It’s fine.” She picked up her fork again. Started eating, mechanical. “If you can’t tell me, you can’t tell me.”

“It’s not like that—”

“I said it’s fine, Milo.” Her voice was sharp now. “Let’s just eat breakfast.”

We ate in silence. Every bite tasted like ash in my mouth.

When she finished, she stood up, took her plate to the sink, and told me na uuwi muna siya sa condo.

I sat there, staring at my half-eaten pancakes, my heart sinking.

That wasn’t fine.

Nothing about that was fine.

---

Over the next two weeks, I watched her spiral.

She didn’t bring up Tanya again. Didn’t ask me about work. Didn’t push.

But I could see it eating at her.

She’d go quiet sometimes, staring at nothing. She’d check her phone more often, like she was waiting for something—or looking for something. She’d look at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention, her expression guarded, searching.

The physical distance was worse. She’d pull away when I tried to kiss her. Make excuses not to touch. Come to bed after I was already asleep.

It was killing me.

“You okay?” I asked one night while we were cooking dinner together. She was on the other side of the kitchen, as far from me as possible in the small space.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’ve been quiet lately.”

“Just tired from work.” She didn’t look at me.

“Saff—”

“Pwede pakuha ng tubig?”

Inabutan ko siya ng tubig.

“If something’s wrong—”

“Nothing’s wrong.” She finally looked at me, and her smile was too bright, too forced. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

We both knew that was a lie.

---

Three days before I’d planned to propose, I gave up and called Sage.

“I think I fucked up,” I said as soon as he answered.

“Doubt it, but what’s up?”

“Saffron saw texts from the real estate agent. She asked me about it and I—I panicked. I told her it was work related. Now she thinks—I don’t know what she thinks, but she’s been pulling away ever since. Won’t talk to me. Won’t even look at me.” I was pacing inside my office at work, the door locked. “Sabihin ko na lang ba sa kanya iyong tungkol sa proposal?”

Sage was quiet for a moment. “Hindi ba malapit ka ng matapos don sa inaayos mo?”

“Three days. Maybe four if the agent can’t get the final paperwork together in time.”

“Then don’t tell her.”

“But she’s spiraling—”

“It won’t kill her to overthink for a few more days,” Sage said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Trust me. I know Saff. She’s probably already convinced herself of ten different scenarios, none of them good. Let her spiral. When you propose and she realizes what’s actually been going on, matatawa na lang ’yon na parang baliw.”

“That’s terrible advice.”

“You’re just feeling guilty.” He paused. “Look, the whole family knows you’re proposing. We’re all rooting for you. Don’t ruin the surprise now because you can’t handle three more days of Saffie being in her feelings.”

“She thinks I’m cheating on her.”

“She doesn’t think that.”

“She does. I can see it.”

“Okay, maybe she does a little bit,” Sage admitted.

“Sasabihin ko na.”

“Tsk. ’Wag na. Malapit naman na.”

“But she’s thinking that I’m cheating!”

“But you’re not.”

“Doesn’t matter—what matters is what she thinks,” I told him.

“Just push the agent to finalize everything faster,” Sage continued. “Get it done in three days instead of four. The sooner you can propose, the sooner you can put her out of her misery.”

“And you’re okay with your sister suffering for three more days?”

“I’m okay with my sister getting the proposal of her dreams and having a great story to tell at your wedding.” He laughed. “Besides, she’s fine. She’s spiraling, but she’s not like, actually in danger. She’ll survive.”

---

So I pushed.

I called Tanya three times in two days, asking if there was any way to speed up the process.

“Mr. Delgado,” she’d said on the third call, her patience clearly wearing thin. “I’m doing everything I can. The paperwork takes time.”

“I understand, but—”

“Is everything okay?”

“My girlfriend saw your texts and calls. She thinks—” I stopped. “She doesn’t know about the house. About any of this. And now she thinks something else is going on.”

There was a pause. Then Tanya laughed. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll try my best. I’ll try to have the final three options for you by tomorrow morning, and the loan approval should be finalized by tomorrow afternoon. Will that work?”

“Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry for being—”

“Persistent?” She laughed again. “It’s fine. I can tell this is important to you.”

“It is. She is.”

“Then I’ll make sure everything is ready.”

---

The next day, as soon as I’d gotten the final documents, I’d designed the e-vite.

Formal. With an RSVP option. Dress code specified.

Just how Saffron liked it—all planned, my type-A girlfriend.

“You’re invited to dinner,” it read. “Friday, 7PM. Dress code: Formal. RSVP required.”

I’d sent it to Saffron’s email and waited.

Saffron just clicked going.

She didn’t even reply.

Fuck.

Galit nga talaga siya sa akin. I shouldn’t have listened to Sage and just came clean. Kasi ano’ng gagawin ko sa bahay kung wala si Saffron?

---

Friday finally arrived.

I’d taken the entire day off work—something I never did—and spent it setting up. The restaurant I’d booked was small, intimate, the kind of place where you could actually hear each other talk. I’d called ahead three times to confirm the reservation, to make sure they had the private corner table I’d requested.

Kagaya nga ng sinabi ni Sage, Saffron would talk about this proposal for a lifetime… She’d tell the story to our kids, our grandkids… So, I just wanted to give her the perfect story to tell.

The ring was in my jacket pocket. The documents—the loan approval and the three house listings—were in an envelope sitting on the chair I’ll sit on.

When Saffron arrived, she was wearing a dark blue dress I’d never seen before. Her hair was done up. She looked stunning—but it was hardly surprising. She’d always been beautiful.

But I could see the tension in her shoulders. The worry in her eyes.

“This better be worth the e-vite,” she said as she sat down, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It will be,” I said.

We ordered food. I tried to make conversation, but I could tell her mind was elsewhere. She kept fidgeting with her napkin. Glancing at me, then away.

“Saffron,” I said finally. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” But her voice was too quick, too bright.

“You’ve been quiet all week.”

“I’m just tired.”

“It’s more than that.”

She looked down at her plate. “Are we okay?”

My chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She took a breath. “Are we okay? You and me?”

“Of course we are. Why would you think—”

“You’ve been so busy lately. Working all the time. And that Tanya person keeps texting you.” She finally looked up at me, and I could see tears threatening to spill over. “I’m not—I’m not accusing you of anything. I just need to know if something’s wrong. If you’re… if you’re not happy anymore.”

“Saff—”

“Because if you’re not, if you want to end things, just tell me. Don’t—” Her voice cracked. “Don’t drag it out. Don’t invite me to a formal dinner to break up with me. Just tell me.”

She thought I was breaking up with her.

I reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m not breaking up with you.”

“Then what is this?” She gestured at the restaurant, at the formal setup. “What’s going on?”

I grabbed the envelope and slid it across the table.

She stared at it, her forehead creased in confusion. “What is this?”

“Open it.”

With shaking hands, she opened the envelope and pulled out the papers inside. The house listings. Three of them.

Her eyes went wide as she looked at the photos. “Milo, what—”

“Tanya is a real estate agent,” I said. “Not a coworker. Not someone from work. A real estate agent.” I leaned forward. “I’ve been meeting with her for the past three months because I wanted to find us a house. A real house. Not just an apartment. Something that’s ours.”

She looked up at me, tears spilling over now.

“And I’ve been working extra cases because I needed more money for the down payment. I got approved for a loan—” I pulled out that document too, handing it to her. “Everything’s ready. All you have to do is choose which house you want.”

“Milo—”

“All those houses have the bathtub we wanted.”

She was crying fully now, clutching the papers. “You’re not breaking up with me.”

“Hindi pa ako nababaliw. I’m not breaking up with you.” I stood up from my seat and walked around the table to where she sat.

And then I knelt down in front of her.

The restaurant seemed to go quiet. Or maybe it was just that all I could hear was my own heartbeat and her sharp intake of breath.

I pulled the small box out of my pocket.

“Saffron Rose,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Five years ago, you tried to kiss me in a club, and I panicked.” I saw the exact moment the memory hit her—the way her eyes filled with fresh tears, the way her breath caught. “I was scared. Scared that I wasn’t enough for you. Scared that once you really saw me—all the parts I’d kept hidden—you’d realize you could do better.”

“Milo, that’s not—”

“Let me finish,” I said gently. “I was wrong. About all of it. You’ve seen every part of me now. The good, the bad, the insecure, the proud. You’ve seen me at my worst—remember that time I got food poisoning and you had to take care of me for three days?”

She laughed through her tears. “You were so dramatic about it.”

“I thought I was dying.”

“Were you really worried about that o dahil marami kang kailangang i-submit na drafts?”

“Same thing.” I took a breath. “You’ve seen me scared and struggling and stubborn. You’ve put up with my pride and my tendency to shut down when things get hard. And you’ve stayed. You’ve chosen me, over and over again, even when I’ve given you reasons not to.”

I opened the box, watching the light catch on the ring.

“I love you, Saffron. I want to build a life with you. I want to come home to you every day. I want to fight about new developments in law and cook dinner together and fall asleep with you in my arms. I want to be the person you call when you’re having a bad day. I want to be there for every good day, too.”

She was sobbing now, her hand over her mouth.

“I asked your family for their approval. Don ako pumunta dati nung hindi tayo sabay nagdinner. They all gave me their blessing.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Sage told me no return, no exchange , but then he helped me pick the ring.”

She laughed and cried at the same time. “He helped?”

I nodded. “I just wanted to give you the perfect ring.”

I looked up at her—this woman who’d challenged me from day one, who’d seen past all my defenses, who’d chosen to love me despite everything.

“Will you marry me?” I asked, echoing the question that had defined our entire relationship—from law school rivals to lawyers to this.

“Yes,” she managed through her tears.

“Do you swear?”

“Yes, yes, obviously yes.”

I took the ring from the box—my hands steady now—and slid it onto her finger. It fit perfectly, thank god.

Then she was pulling me up, wrapping her arms around me, crying into my shoulder while I held her tight.

“I love you,” she said against my neck. “I love you so much.”

“I love you always.”

She pulled back to look at the ring, holding her hand up to the light. Fresh tears spilled over. “It’s perfect. Milo, it’s perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” I said, and I meant it.

She laughed and cried at the same time. “I thought you were breaking up with me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know that, too.”

She kissed me then, and I could taste the salt of her tears.

When we finally broke apart, she was still holding the house listings in one hand, the ring catching the light on her other hand.

“When?” she asked. “When’s the wedding?”

“Whenever you want,” I said honestly. “Tomorrow, if you want. Next week. Next month. We can elope if you want. Or we can do the whole thing—big wedding, all of your relatives and our friends invited, whatever makes you happy. Or we can have a long engagement, focus on establishing our careers first, take our time with everything.”

I cupped her face in my hands, brushing away tears with my thumbs.

“Whatever you want, Saffron. I’m here. I’m not leaving. We can do this on your timeline.”

She cried harder at that.

“Hey, hey,” I said softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” She gripped my wrists, holding my hands against her face. “Everything’s right. That’s why I’m crying. You’re just—you’re perfect. This is perfect.”

I kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. “So, what do you want?”

She took a shaky breath. “Okay. Let’s get married as soon as possible. I don’t want to wait. I want to be your wife.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She looked up at me seriously. “But—” She paused, and I could see her gathering courage. “No babies first. I want to be your wife and only baby for a few years. Is that okay? I just want it to be us for a while. Just us building our life and our careers and figuring out marriage before we add anyone else to the mix.”

I laughed, the sound surprised out of me. Relief flooded through my chest. “Deal. Absolutely deal.”

“You promise?” She searched my face. “You’re not disappointed?”

“Never.” I pulled her closer. “I want just you for a while. I want to be selfish with you. I want lazy Sunday mornings and spontaneous trips and the freedom to focus on just us.”

“Really?”

“Really. Just you and me first. Building our life together. Learning how to be married. And when we’re ready—if we’re ever ready—we’ll figure out the rest.”

She nodded, satisfied, then pulled me down for another kiss.

And there, in that restaurant with the ring on her finger and our future spread out in documents on the table, I kissed my fiancée and knew that every struggle, every sacrifice, every moment of doubt had been worth it.

Because this—her in my arms, choosing me, building a life with me—this was everything.

“I love you,” she whispered against my lips.

“I love you, too,” I whispered back. “First, hardest, always.”

And when she smiled—that bright, beautiful smile that still made my heart race after years of being together—I knew we were exactly where we were supposed to be. 

** Thank you for reading Milo and Saffie’s story! xx