BLURB

Blurb

Celestia Sereia Castaliogne is tired of losing to Saint Deimos Rembrandt. Simula pagkabata hanggang sa mga haligi ng Goddard’s prestigious art conservatory ay hindi natapos ang digmaan sa pagitan nila.

Their rivalry is always legendary: dueling canvases, clashing visions, each masterpiece a weapon in their private war. And no matter how hard she fights, Saint always walks away with the victory… and that insufferable smirk.

Pero kung kailan sumuko na siya sa pag-asang manalo laban dito, saka naman siya binigyan ng kapangyarihang makabawi.

The moment Saint’s composure cracks and the jealousy in his eyes bursts when she shares a laugh with his own brother, she realizes his obsession with winning might run deeper than art, and she’s now ready to use it.

If beating Saint means turning his own blood against him, so be it. She’ll use every brushstroke and every whispered word to tip the scales. She will do anything mailampaso lang ito.

But as rivalry blurs into dangerous attraction, Celestia begins to wonder who is really winning, and what it will cost when the game turns against her.

Because every masterpiece demands a price. And hers might be her heart—when she finally masters the art of falling for the enemy.

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Prologue

Prologue

Not Without A Fight

The chandelier above the ballroom glittered like a thousand tiny eyes, all of them watching me. Hindi ko alam kung paano ako napunta sa ganitong sitwasyon at kung anong sumpa ang minana ko mula sa mga ninuno ko para parusahan ako ng ganito. I am helpless. Cursed.

I heaved a sigh as I stood at the edge of the grand staircase, my hand resting stiffly on the banister, my white evening gown suffocating me like a silk trap. May ilang libong sequence ang damit na suot ko katumbas ng ilang libo ring pamumuri sa akin ng pamilya ko pero ni hindi ko naramdamang maganda akong gabi. Tonight wasn’t mine. Tonight belonged to the Castaliogne and Rembrandt families, the powerful dynasties who had decided that art wasn’t enough to unite them, bloodlines must.

My stomach twisted. They called it an engagement party. I called it a funeral. My own fucking funeral.

“Smile, Celestia.” My mother’s voice was sharp, a dagger behind a sweet expression as she came up to me and adjusted the diamond necklace at my throat. “This is the beginning of your legacy, so chin up and smile.”

Legacy. The word tasted like ashes. Gusto kong masuka pero pinili kong ngumiti na lang hanggang sa mawala sa paningin ko si Mommy. Legacy meant she had no choice. Legacy meant Saint Deimos Rembrandt.

Tanginang pangalan ’yan. Pang santong demonyo. Hindi kaya nagkamali lang ang mga magulang niya no’ng lumabas siya? Hindi ba dapat ang pangalan niya Satanas Demonyo? Mas bagay kasi.

While I was consumed by my rage, the devil’s voice slithered up the staircase behind me. My eyes automatically rolled at the back of my head. Speaking of Belzebub.

“Don’t look so mournful, Celestia. People might think you’re being marched to your death.”

My grip on the banister tightened. I didn’t have to turn to know his expression: that insufferable half-smile, arrogance painted into every line of his face, alam ko na kung sino ’yon. Saint Deimos Rembrandt, my rival, my tormentor, the bane of my existence, ang kaluluwang hinugot sa wisdom tooth ng mga hudyo.

Tamad ko siyang sinipat gamit ang gilid ng mga mata ko. Hindi nagpapakita ng interes. He was dressed in a black tuxedo sharp enough to cut, his hair swept back in careless perfection. Parang dinilaan iyon ng kambing sa kintab. Agad kong tinanggal ang pagtingin sa kanya dahil baka mademonyo pa ako. His presence was too much already. Ang hirap maging mabait kapag nakakadilim ng paningin ang kaharap mo.

“You’re late,” I said coldly, still refusing to face him.

“Fashionably,” he corrected, stepping close enough that I could feel the warmth of his demonic presence. “You wouldn’t want your fiancé arriving too early, would you? Leaves no room for anticipation…”

I spun toward him, my eyes narrowing. “You’re not my fiancé. You’re my prison sentence. Literal bilibid.”

“Ouch,” he said, placing a hand over his heart in mock injury. “Harsh words for the man you’ll be kissing in about… five minutes?”

My cheeks heated instantly, fury striking first, followed traitorously by something else I refused to name. I opened my mouth, ready to bully him from the moment his father shoot his rotten seeds on his mother’s womb, but the emcee’s voice thundered from below.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our honored families and tonight’s stars. The newly engaged Celestia Sereia Castaliogne and Saint Deimos Rembrandt!”

The ballroom erupted into applause. My pulse spiked at that. Mas lalo namang nangisi ang peste sa tabi ko.

“It’s showtime, baby.”

Gusto ko siyang sakalin, sabunutan hanggang sa mahila ko pati ang anit niya at utak na gamunggo, pero minabuti kong piliin pa ring maging mabuti.

We descended the stairs together, our arms linked like perfect lovers. To the watching crowd, politicians, patrons, collectors, and critics, we were the perfect couple. But every step only felt like shackles tightening around my ankles. Gusto ko nang maiyak. I fucking hate this.

“Good girl.” Saint murmured playfully.

I still kept my smile frozen, whispering through clenched teeth. “Hindi ka mafia boss para umasta ng ganyan kaya manahimik ka.”

Saint chuckled low, leaning close enough that his lips brushed the shell of my ear. Nahigit ko ang paghinga lalo na nang magsalita siya uli.

“I’m not, but I can be who you want me to be especially in bed, Celestia.”

My nails dug into his arm. “I. fucking. hate. you.” mabagal at may diin kong sagot sa mga salita.

“You’re adorable when you say that. I. fucking. love. it.” he answered, voice dripping with mockery while trying to dig into my nerves.

Flashbulbs went off. Applause swelled as we reached the center of the ballroom. Our families beamed from the front tables. Hindi na ako nakasagot.

“Now,” the emcee continued, “let’s hear from our radiant couple!”

My jaw clenched at that. Radiant couple my ass . I wanted to laugh, scream, or better run away, but I just couldn’t. Letseng buhay ’to.

Saint lifted his champagne flute first. “To legacies uniting, to art and passion, to new beginnings.” His voice was smooth, regal, calculated. He turned, locking eyes with me. “And to my future wife, who will no doubt keep our marriage… interesting.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd. 

I forced my lips into a smile, lifting my glass. “To surviving this marriage without strangling him in his sleep.” Sagot ko dahilan para mas malakas na matawa ang lahat, tuwang-tuwa sa pagbabangayan namin, hindi nila alam na totoo ang lahat ng mga sinasabi ko. I couldn’t wait to kill him with my bare hands.

“Now,” the emcee said with a grin, “seal it with a kiss!”

I froze. Bigla akong nabingi. The room buzzed with expectation, hundreds of eyes started drilling into us. My chest tightened. 

Seal it with a kiss? Ano ’to pelikula?! Sa pagkakaalam ko engagement pa lang ’to, bakit demanding ang letseng emcee na ’to?!

Saint leaned close, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “Relax, Celestia. I’ll make it quick.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I hissed.

“Oh, but I would. Hindi naman ito ang unang halikan natin, ’di ba?” His grin was pure sin.

And before I could stop him, he tilted my chin and pressed his mouth to mine.

The kiss should have been nothing. Polite. Formal. A brush of lips for the cameras. Palabas lang para pagbigyan ang mga bisita lalo na ang pamilya naming dalawa. Besides, tama siya, hindi ito ang unang beses na naghalikan kami, pero hindi ko pa rin gustong halikan siya!

Kinalma ko ang sarili. Isang halik lang. It was nothing. Pwede kong idaan lang sa toothbrush o pagmumog gamit ang bleach o liquid sosa. I expected it to be quick just like what he said, but the devil didn’t do quickly or even politely! In fact, he just let his hand slid to the small of my back, drawing me closer, his lips lingering long enough to make my heart trip against my fucking will!

Heat flared, fury, and something darker tangled inside my chest when Saint’s lips sucked my lower lip like his favorite lollipop!

Nanghihina ang mga tuhod kong napakapit sa kanyang tuxedo. Gusto ko siyang itulak palayo, pero bakit may parte sa puso kong gusto rin siyang hilahin palapit? Wait, nasasakop na ba ako ng dark force?

The crowd erupted into cheers. Saka lang ako nakahinga nang bitiwan niya ang mga labi ko. Cameras flashed. Our parents looked like gods watching their prophecy fulfilled. Masayang-masaya ang lahat habang ako ay gusto nang maglaho na parang bula! 

Saint pulled back after helping me to my feet, his smirk returning as he whispered against my lips, “You always taste like victory, Celestia.”

Agad akong nag-iwas ng tingin. My cheeks were burning. My palm was itching to slap him but instead of doing that, I just smiled for the cameras, whispering back through gritted teeth.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Rembrandt. I’ll burn this entire stupid marriage to the ground.”

“Then we’ll burn together, Mrs. Rembrandt,” he murmured, wicked delight in his eyes, ang ngisi ay abot tainga na. “Wouldn’t that be a masterpiece?”

The applause rolled on, the music flooded the entire place, and to the watching world, we were perfect. But beneath the glittering surface, the war had only just begun. 

I might be forced into Saint Deimos Rembrandt’s arms, but I would never surrender my heart. Not without a fight, so let the fucking war begin.

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This is an interactive story published on Haloreads app. Join us as the story unfolds. 

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CHAPTER 1

Chapter One

The Face Of Corruption

The room smelled of turpentine, paint, and sharpened graphite, the perfume of creation and anxiety. Well, at least for me. Even though I grew up with that smell, I still felt nervous every time I was in a place and crowd like this.

Napatitig ako sa hilera ng mga blankong canvass na naghihintay sa amin. We all shuffled nervously into our place, brushes and pencils trembling in our hands. 

This wasn’t just another school event. This was the Intercollegiate Arts Contest. The competition that launched careers, secured scholarships, and turned anonymous students into names in Manila’s art circles. Goddard’s pride.

Napabuntong-hininga ako nang lumabas sa malaking screen ang tema ng ngayong contest. 

“The Face of Corruption.” mahina kong basa habang ang utak ay lumilipad na kung ano ang iguguhit at ipipinta para masungkit ang unang medalya.

I stretched my back and arms that were clasped together as I stared at my easel, my brushes were neatly arranged like weapons. I had envisioned my piece for weeks, every detail carved into my mind. I felt ready.

Nang sabihing pwede nang mag-umpisa ay nagkumahog ang lahat. We only had four hours to finish our piece. 

I let my self stare at my blank canvass for a little bit more while others rushed to start theirs. Nang hawakan ko na ang fine pointed brush para simulan ang gagawin ay unti-unting kumalma na ang tibok ng puso ko. 

I love doing realistic painting. Sa unang lapat ng brush sa blankong canvass na nasa harapan ko ay bumaha na ng ideas ang utak ko—gaya ng pagbaha sa iba’t ibang bahagi ng Pilipinas dahil sa mga putang inang corrupt sa bawat sulok hanggang sa labas ng gobyerno.

Sa bawat galaw ng kamay ko ay hindi ko namamalayang unti-unting umiigting ang panga ko. I opted for a simple art, but my mind, determination, and anger had other plan. 

Three and a half hours later, I was finally done.

Nanginginig kong binitiwan ang huling paint brush na hawak ko. Saka ko lang naramdaman ang pangangalay ng aking mga kamay kaya iginalaw-galaw ko ang mga ’yon. My eyes didn’t left the piece that I just did. Iniisip ko kung ano pang kulang at kung may dapat pa akong baguhin. 

I glanced at the clock and then back to my art. Kahit na parang nakukulangan ako ay minabuti kong hindi na iyon galawin kahit na may kalahating oras pa ako.

At the top of my canvas would stand a gleaming mansion, its gates plated in gold, its gardens lush and immaculate. May malaking fountain sa pinakagitna ng mansion na gawa sa gold bars at coins ang inilalabas bilang tubig. There was a line of imported cars flocking: Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Bentleys, curved across the driveway like trophies. Inside, I painted faceless officials lounged in opulent suits, glasses of champagne in their hands, their wives glittering with diamonds, their children sprawled across velvet couches opening luxury item hauls in front of the camera for every tax payers to see. Na para bang mga sikat na Hollywood actresses at actors na pinaghirapan ang bawat salaping ipinambili.

All of it shimmering, luxurious. All of it grotesque.

And beneath?

Napalunok ako sa pagbaba ng mga mata ko sa pangalawang parte ng painting na ginawa ko. Hindi ko naiwasang manlumo at masaktan.

The foundation of the mansion was water. Not clean water, but a surging flood, gray and bloated with debris. From that drowning chaos rose the arms of ordinary people, citizens reaching for help that never came. A mother clutching her child above the current. An old man struggling as his home sank. Children’s toys floated beside corpses. Animals were screaming for help as the flood and trash kept sucking them in and killing them.

My piece wasn’t just about wealth. It was about what that wealth cost and that was the lives of the people forgotten so these officials could gorge themselves on luxury.

I gripped my pencil tighter as I swallowed the bile on throat. My heart was thundering. This has to cut. This has to wound. I did it. I’m done. It was perfect. I am happy by what I came up with. I was proud of myself.

Then the laugh came.

That fucking laugh.

Smooth, rich, arrogant, and far too close enough to stiffened my spine. I didn’t need to look. But I did anyway. Pakiramdam ko ay umangat bigla sa utak ko ang lahat ng galit na naramdaman ko habang tinatapos ang painting nang tuluyan nang makita ang sugo ng kadiliman.

And there he fucking was. Strolling in like he owned the place, sketchbook tucked under his arm, his blazer draped casually over his shoulder. His white sleeves were rolled, revealing strong forearms dusted faintly with charcoal, as though he’d been sketching until the last moment. Every step he made was confident, unhurried, the kind that drew every gaze in the room. Bawat hakbang niya ay sumisigaw ng kakisigan, kapangyarihan, respeto.

I fucking hate that man to my core but I wouldn’t deny how good looking he was. Sayang nga lang at hanggang panlabas lang ’yon. 

Natigil ako sa mga pag-iisip nang sa wakas ay nahanap ako ng mga mata niya sa kabilang dako ng studio. I shook my head as I watched him smiled like fate had done him a personal favor. Lumabas ang mapuputi at pantay-pantay niyang ngipin nang mas lalong nangisi nang titigan ko rin.

Lord, from all the evil that surrounds me, defend me. Panalangin ko nang maglakad na ang lalaki palapit sa akin.

Saint dropped his sketchbook onto the easel beside mine. Too close. Always too close.

“Lapitin talaga ako ng demonyo.” I muttered, arranging my brushes as I tried to ignore him.

“Wow, sobrang ganda mo naman.” he said in a mockery tone while leaning in just slightly. 

“Thank you pero hindi mo na kailangan sabihin. Alam ko na ’yan.”

In one swift move he pulled a chair and placed it beside me. Naupo siya bago ako sagutin. Ang mga mata ay nagniningning sa kasiyahan.

“Alam ko namang kanina mo pa hinihintay na mapansin kita.”

I didn’t lift my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. The only reason I’m here is to win.”

His chuckle curled through my chest like smoke. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

“Then good luck.”

I waited for him after that dismissal, but he remained seated in his seat. Sa hindi niya pagsagot ay naobliga akong lingunin siya. His deep set eyes with the purest and blackest orbs were pinning into me. Awtomatikong tumaas ang kilay ko dahil sa pagtitig niya. I was about to say something when his eyes fell on my lips.

Pasimple kong nahigit ang paghinga nang tumagal ang titig niya do’n. Bumilis ang tibok ng puso ko dahil sa pagkakataong ito ay bigla siyang naging seryoso. As if he was trying to memorize every details of my lips so he could finally paint his greatest masterpiece.

Before my heart would burst inside my chest, the organizer wrapped up the session telling everyone to put our finished masterpieces on the stage.

Sa pagtayo ni Saint ay napatingala ako sa kanya. He was six foot three inches or more kaya para akong nakatingala sa poste. 

“Good luck, Celestia. I hope you finally win this time.” aniya dala na ang nakakalokong ngisi dahilan para mapairap na lang ako.

I hate him to my core. Siguro kaya bumibilis ang pintig ng puso ko kapag nasa harapan ko siya ay dahil wina-warningan ako ng universe sa delubyong dala niya. 

Nang magsitayuan ang lahat para ihilera ang mga ginawa namin sa stage ay gumalaw na rin ako. I was becoming anxious looking at my colleagues art. They were all beautiful. May mga ilang hindi nakatapos dahil sa limitadong oras pero sa labing dalawang sumali sa contest mula sa iba’t ibang school ay lahat kami determinadong manalo. 

I scanned the canvases displayed on stage, admiring each and every one, until I paused before a a masterpiece painted with noticeably less color.

His canvas was bold, alive with motion. A massive serpent coiled around a government building, its belly bulging with stolen pesos, its scales shimmering like oily rainbows. From its fangs dripped black poison, spilling into the streets below, infecting everything it touched: unfinished roads, hollow housing projects, broken bridges, old hospitals. The sky above was crimson, burning with the weight of decay.

It was grotesque. Terrifying. Brilliant.

And I hated it.

Hindi ko na kailangang titigan ang signature na nasa ibaba ng sining dahil unang tingin pa lang ay alam ko na kung sino ang gumawa no’n. Saint’s paintings were mostly like these. Hindi siya mahilig gumawa ng mga makukulay na obra pero ang mensahe sa bawat gawa niya ay malinaw at walang paligoy-ligoy.

I hated how sure his strokes were, how confident his movements looked. I hated that his interpretation was so different yet equally damning. I hated that even I couldn’t look away. And most of all, I hated the way my chest tightened again watching his jaw set, eyes blazing, hand steady as if the world would bend to his will as he walked toward me.

“Amazed? Partida medyo tinamad pa ako n’yan,” he said suddenly, not glancing up. His voice was calm, amused.

I couldn’t fine any words to banter with him. Hindi rin naman kasi ako sinungaling at totoong napakaganda rin talaga ng gawa niya. Of course, pipiliin ko pa rin ang gawa ko pero hindi maipagkakaila na maganda rin talaga ang gawa niya. Kahit hindi makulay ay angat ang sining niya sa lahat—maliban sa gawa ko, sympre.

“Ready to lose? again?” 

My jaw clenched at that. “Asa ka.”

Natawa siya. “You’re always grumpy when you realize you’re about to lose.”

“Lose? Compared to my piece, yours looks… boring.”

At last, he turned, smirk sharp as a knife. “Boring, huh… Let’s see about that when the judges announces that I’m the winner.”

Imbes na sagutin ay tinalikuran ko na lang siya. I walked away as fast as I could. Nakakairita! Kahit na gusto kong kalaban ang lalaking ’yon dahil ni minsan ay hindi pa ako nakakabawi sa ilang beses niyang pagtalo sa akin sa mga art contest na pinaglabanan namin simula bata pa lang kami ay hindi ko maiwasang magalit at panghinaan na naman ngayon ng loob dahil mukhang tama siya. Mukhang hanggang sa pagkakataong ’to ay matatalo niya pa rin ako.

I just let the odds choose the rightful winner as the judges swept in like hawks toward the stage, murmuring as they inspected each canvas.

My chest thudded as they paused on mine. One judge leaned closer, muttering about “powerful symbolism” and “political bite.” Another scribbled furiously into his notebook. 

Yes. They saw it. They understood.

But then they turned to his. Nakita ko pa lang ang pagngiti ng isang judge ay gusto ko nang maiyak. They lingered too long on his piece. One pointed to the serpent’s eyes, nodding gravely. Another whispered, “Visceral. Symbolic. Perfect.” The third actually stepped back, as though the canvas itself hissed.

My stomach twisted until they were done inspecting the canvases. Sa bawat paglipas ng minuto habang hinihintay ang resulta ay parang umiikot ang tiyan ko. Kiatchan, the one who was seated beside me from another art school, congratulated me. Aniya ay ang sa akin daw ang nagustohan niya dahil iyon daw ang pinakabuhay na buhay. I returned the favor as her piece spoke volume too. Nagpatuloy kami sa pag-uusap. Kahit paano ay gumaan ang dibdib ko dahil sa kanya. 

After fifteen more minutes, the head judge finally raised his voice. “The results are in.”

The room hushed. Nagsimula siya sa pag-congratulate sa amin pero ang malinaw lang na rumehistro sa utak ko ay ang mga huling sinabi niya.

“We have a tie.”

Gasps rippled through the studio. My mouth dropped open. Mas lalo pang lumala ang pagkagulat ko nang tawagin na ang pangalan ko kasabay ng pangalan ng lalaking habang buhay ko na yatang kasusuklaman!

A tie?! After pouring my fury into every line, I was being placed on the same level as that animal?

My eyes snapped to him, ready to sear him with every ounce of indignation, but he was already looking at me, his grin slow, infuriating. Tila expected na ang nangyayari ngayon at mukhang mas masaya pang tie kami.

“Of course,” he mouthed.

“Congratulations, Celestia.” mahinang bati sa akin ni Kiatchan na halos hindi ko napansin dahil iritang-irita na naman ako.

The judge raised a hand for silence. “Both entries will advance. However, the panel agrees that while each piece is powerful, they demand context. Interpretation. Dialogue. Therefore, both artists will present their works in a public debate round.”

A murmur swept through the hall. Debate?! My stomach lurched. Not only had I failed to crush Saint here, I was tethered to him again! Kota na yata ang mga maligno sa pamba-bad trip sa akin ngayong araw!

“Looks like we’re stuck together, Celestia.” aniyang hindi ko namalayang nakalapit na pala sa akin. 

He leaned close, his breath brushing my ear. I forced a brittle smile even though my pulse roared.

“Oo nga eh. Ang malas ko talaga sa buhay. Sa dinami-rami ikaw pa makaka-tie ko.”

His smirk deepened as his eyes glittered like fire. “Careful. If you tremble this much now, what will you do when it’s just you and me on stage?”

My heart betrayed me with a stutter. Hindi na ako nakasagot. As the hall emptied, my fury simmered into something more dangerous. 

I didn’t just want to beat him now. I wanted to burn with him. And that terrified me more than losing ever could.

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This is an interactive story published on Haloreads app. Join us as the story unfolds.

(Read the advance chapters for FREE. See you there.)

CHAPTER 2

Chapter Two

Spell On Me

“Yesterday was too much, and this day couldn’t get any better.” I thought to myself.

Akala ko magiging madali ang huling parte ng kompetisyong ito pero mali ako. I felt like everything was endless from the moment I heard Saint and I were having a debate until now. I never had a hard time making art, but everything always seemed unbearable when it involved Saint.

Mas lalo akong nasakal nang makapasok ako sa prep room. Kahit na disente ang laki ng kuwarto ay sikip na sikip pa rin ako. There was four white walls, a long table, and two canvases mounted side by side like dueling banners. Supposedly neutral ground, but it didn’t feel neutral. My heart was at war.

I dropped my notebook onto the table with more force than necessary, the sound cut through the silence in the air. Pinigilan kong umikot ang mga mata ko nang matitigan na ang lalaking nauna sa akin sa prep room.

Saint look like an hour early for the preparation. He was sprawled in his chair with the careless ease of someone who thought the world existed for his amusement. His serpent painting loomed behind him, coils gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light.

Hindi naman sa ayaw kong manalo siya dahil maganda rin talaga ang obra niya at talagang magaling siya sa larangang ito, but the irony of it all. Hindi pa rin ako makapaniwala. Like really? Sa labing-dalawang contestants, siya pa talaga? From Goddard until here, siya pa rin ang kasama ko na para bang magkadugtong na ang mga bituka namin at hindi pwedeng mahiwalay sa isa’t isa.

I adjusted my pen, refusing to look at him as I get comfortably in my chair.

“Hi.” He greeted, alam kong nang-aasar lang.

“I still can’t believe they stuck me with you,” I muttered in a low voice, but still intended to make him hear it.

“Hmm,” he drawled, flipping his notebook open with one hand, “Can’t believe my luck either.”

I glanced up just long enough to glare. At gaya ng palaging nangyayari, he was already watching me with that smug half-smile tugging at his lips.

Tinaasan ko siya ng kilay. He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head like he owned the room and I was in his territory.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” panimula ko pero ang ekspresyon niya ay hindi nagbago. “This debate isn’t about you. Or me. It’s about corruption. So, keep your little games to yourself.”

“Games?” His smile deepened. “Haven’t you realized that everything’s a game and you’re constantly playing it?”

Don’t banter with him, Celestia. Huwag mo nang sirain ang araw mo at mag-focus ka na lang sa debate! Sigaw ng utak ko pero may ibang desisyon ang bibig ko.

“I don’t play with snakes.”

Saint chuckled low, a sound that slid down my spine before I could even stop it. “Funny. You’ve been watching mine all day.”

My cheeks burned. I tightened my grip on the pen I didn’t realize I was holding until my knuckles ached. Hindi na ako nakapagsalita nang kumalat ang katahimikan. The silence was thick and sharp. I lowered my gaze. Pick up my notebook and wrote furiously instead of arguing with him.

Focus, Celestia!

I sketched bullet points for my argument. Accountability. Transparency. The way corruption trickled down, flooding lives. I was focused. Doon ko itinuon ang lahat ng galit at inis na nararamdaman ko, at nagpapasalamat akong hindi na ako ininis pa ng sugo ng demonyo.

Many people would wonder why I sympathize so much with the poor especially with the things I wrote for our debate. Bakit apektado ako eh mayaman naman ako? Bakit ganito ako mag-react eh hindi ko naman naranasang maging mahirap sa tanang buhay ko? That in fact, I was born into a wealthy family. I was gifted luxury items, bags, shoes at a young age, and I even had my own car at eighteen. Na parang ang ipininta ko sa contest na ito ay siya ring buhay na mayroon ako. And the only answer I had was because I was thinking smart. I know the obvious, and I fucking hate injustice.

Kahit na mayaman ang pamilya ko ay magkaibang-magkaiba ang pinagmulan ko sa mga taong nasa obra ko. I may have failed to meet the reason we have everything right now, but I am one hundred percent sure our money only came from hard work. Ang lahat ng yaman namin ay mula pa sa aming mga ninuno at lahat iyon ay galing lang sa sariling pagsusumikap at pagod nila. That everything we had wasn’t stolen from the people—we worked hard for it. And even with all that I have, and not being directly affected by this rampant corruption, it would be foolish not to get angry. Kabobohan ang manatiling tahimik para sa kapakanan ng nakararami.

I was still writing so much words, but was interrupted when I felt Saint’s eyes on me. The weight of his gaze was maddening enough to make me snapped my notebook shut.

“Don’t you have something to work on?”

“Already done.” His tone was maddeningly calm.

“So you’re trying to sabotage me now?”

“I’m not even doing anything, Celestia. Why are you always this grumpy?”

“Why are you staring at me?!”

“Does it bother you? May batas bang bawal kang titigan? I have eyes you know.”

“No, but stop it because you’re making me uncomfortable.”

Mabilis ang naging pagtaas-baba ng dibdib ko sa hindi ko rin malamang dahilan. I’m a jolly person and everyone in my circle knew that. Kaya nga lang, talagang nagbabago ang mood ko kapag nasa harapan ko na ang lalaking ’to!

Imbes na sumagot pa ay tumayo lang siya. I watched him cross the room with deliberate slowness until he stood before my canvas.

My stomach knotted at that. Tuluyan na akong nawala sa focus.

Saint’s smile faded as he studied my art with his arms folded, head tilted slightly. He was quiet for too long. I cleared my throat to get his attention. Mas na-bother ako sa pananahimik niya.

“Well?”

“It’s good,” he said finally. His voice was low and thoughtful. “Your piece is harsh. Honest…”

My breath hitched at that. Finally. A compliment. From him. But before I could even process it, Saint added more words.

“But it’s too obvious.”

My head snapped up. “Excuse me?!”

He glanced at me. His eyes gleaming with that damnable challenge. “It spells out the answer for the audience. Rich versus poor. Luxury against death. It doesn’t make them think. Sobrang obvious wala na masyadong wow factor. It tells them what to think already. It screams it.”

My pulse spiked. Napatayo ako sa upuan ko.

“And your giant snake is subtle?”

A slow smile tugged at his lips. “It unsettles. It broadens people’s interpretation because they will see themselves in it. Politicians, contractors, ordinary citizens. They’ll project their own fears onto the serpent and that’s the point. People fear what they can’t name.”

“At least my work has humanity. It may be obvious, but it screams more. Yours is just… spectacle.”

He stepped back to my art and closer to me. His move was unhurried until he was within a breath. His eyes didn’t leave mine. Muli kong nahigit ang paghinga at hindi nakagalaw sa harapan niya.

“Maybe. Or maybe yours hides behind sentiment. Emotion is easy. Fear lasts.”

My throat tightened. His nearness was unbearable especially with the faint scent of graphite and that masculine body wash clinging to him. Kumakalabog na naman ang puso ko!

Nagmamadali akong gumalaw para lagpasan siya bago niya pa ako makitaan ng panghihina. I moved toward the other side of the room, but his presence followed me like gravity.

“You tremble when you’re cornered,” he said softly.

“Asa ka.”

“You do, and you’re trembling right now.”

I scoffed to hide my anxiousness. Kahit na mukhang huli na dahil tama ang mga sinasabi niya. I am fucking trembling again.

“And you…” His smirk curved into something darker as he continued. “You’re addicted to hating me.”

Napaawang ang bibig ko, handa nang magsalita ng mga masasamang salita pero walang lumabas kahit isa sa bibig ko.

Saint stepped closer again, deliberately slow, his gaze flicking briefly to my mouth before meeting my eyes again. His voice dropped to a dangerous murmur. “Tell me, what happens if one day you run out of hate? What’s next, Celestia?”

My chest tightened at that. Heat pooled low in my stomach as he kept walking toward me while I continued stepping back until there was nowhere to go. He was too fucking close! Damang-dama ko na ang init ng katawan niya pero hindi pa rin siya nagpapatinag.

I didn’t know what to say or do. There was something treacherous inside me that wouldn’t let me speak, push, or even slap him.

Nahigit ko ang paghinga nang pumirmi ang mga mata niya sa mga labi ko matapos lumapat ang likod ko sa dingding. He raised his right hand and placed it against the wall, cornering me like his prisoner.

Pinigilan kong mapalunok nang tingalain siya. I felt so small again. I should hate it, but there was something else that I could not explain.

“Do your lips always look this red, or is it just because you’re burning me in your head?”

I tried answering him, but my lips also trembled.

“It looks so… soft, Celestia.”

Wala sa sariling nakagat ko ang pang-ibabang labi na agad ko namang pinagsisihan nang mapalunok siya.

“Stop biting it before it bleeds. Baka sabihin nila kinagat kita, and I don’t bite lips, Celestia, I only worship them.”

The door creaked open right when I was about to close my eyes as he started lowering his face to mine. I thanked the heavens when someone from the faculty entered the room and broke Saint’s devilish spell on me!

Ilang beses na salitang napatitig sa aming dalawa ang lalaki na para bang gulat na gulat sa naabutan pero hindi magawang ipahalata. Saint didn’t move an inch, tila ba wala siyang pakialam kung sino pang Pontio Pilato ang makakita sa hitsura naming dalawa.

“T-Ten minutes left for preparation, guys. The judges are waiting so be ready.”

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CHAPTER 3

Chapter Three

Fire on Stage

Malakas ang ingay sa loob ng auditorium. Hindi gaya kahapon na mga artist at judges lang, ngayon ay mayroon na ring mga estudyanteng handang makinig at husgahan ang debateng magaganap sa pagitan namin ni Saint.

My heart thundered when my eyes saw the front rows filled with professors waiting for us. Students crowded every seat, whispering about the tie that had shocked yesterday’s contest. Marami akong nakitang mga taga Goddard pero marami ring galing sa iba pang university at art school. There was also a handful of journalists hovered near the back, probably sniffing for a headline.

Kinakabahan ako. Hindi ko expected na ganito kalaking crowd ang manunuod sa aming dalawa ni Saint ngayon na para bang it’s a matter of life and death ang mangyayari.

Ah basta, one thing is for sure, kailangan kong galingan at ibigay ang best ko.

Ibinalik ko ang mga mata sa stage. At the center was two canvases loomed. On the left was my mansion of greed: gold gates, cars, faceless elites, all propped above a flood of dying citizens. On the right: his serpent, coiling around city hall, dripping poison into broken streets. Both masterpiece admired by many.

Bahagyang bumagal ang hakbang ko sa sunod-sunod na pag-vibrate ng phone na hawak ko.

Amandachill:

Girl you better win cuz look at this crowd! It’s insane! May the odds be in your favor.

Aniah:

Mananalo ka! Pilitin mo! We’re here for you!

My friends messages gave me a confidence boost but I was still nervous. Sa bawat hakbang ko ay tila lumalakas ang boses ng mga estudyante sa auditorium. My thoughts were swamped with doubts when my head envisioned the man in my head.

Saint may be known as one of the best student artists in Goddard, but he was also known as one of the smartest. Magaling din naman ako at kaya kong makipagsabayan pero sa ilang beses ko nang pagkatalo rito ay hindi ko maiwasang panghinaan ng loob. I felt like I would never won against him no matter what.

I was startled with moderator’s voice that cut through the room for silence. Natigil ako sa pag-iisip. One student guided me on the podium when I reached the stage. Sa kanang bahagi ay gano’n din si Saint. He looked calm and ready. Ang kumpyansang nakikita ko ngayon sa kanya ay mas lalong nagpakaba sa akin.

“Today’s debate is not only about art, but about the meaning behind it. Each finalist will present their interpretation of corruption and respond to one another’s arguments.”

I gripped the podium, my palms were both slick with sweat. My heart raced, but my chin stayed high. Focus. Stay sharp. I reminded myself that as long as I am not backing out, there was a great chance of finally beating him. This is my chance! I can do it!

Then I glanced sideways and nearly cursed when I saw Saint leaning lazily against his podium, one hand is now in his pocket, as though he was getting bored of the speaker in front. When he caught me looking, he winked.

That’s totally a sabotaging move!

Kairita! Inirapan ko siya.

“Miss…” the moderator gestured to me, hindi ko namalayang ako na dapat ang magsasalita dahil na-distract ako.

“Your opening statement.”

I nodded, stepped forward to the podium and fixed the microphone, my voice was steady as I started speaking.

“Corruption isn’t just numbers on a ledger, whispers in back rooms, or a simple viral moment that we usually tend to forget after a while. It’s the crumbling schools, the unfinished roads, ghost projects, deaths in the public hospitals, the floods that drown our cities while officials drink champagne behind tall golden gates. It is insatiable greed made flesh, and it costs lives,

My piece is a mirror. If we look into it and see only wealth, we are blind. What we must see are the bodies beneath the waterline. Ang lantarang paghihirap ng ating mga kababayan dahil sa mga walang kaluluwang hindi mapunan ang kasakiman. Corruption is a death sentence to us and we should stop turning a blind eye to it.“

Applause scattered through the hall. My chest swelled. Parang gusto kong maiyak doon pa lang. My voice didn’t shake, I ended my statement strong and had landed my point.

“Thank you.” The moderator turned to Saint, urging him to start.

“Corruption,” he began, voice smooth as silk and clear as crystal, “Isn’t new. It isn’t shocking. It’s as old as power itself. We can paint villains with faceless shadows and floods just like Miss Castaliogne’s piece, but that’s the easy part. What we don’t want to admit is this: corruption is a snake we all feed. Every bribe, every shortcut, every silent glance away, it grows stronger because of us,

My piece isn’t just about officials. It’s about us. About the way we normalize small acts of dishonesty and then wonder why the system collapses. Corruption is not born in the halls of power alone, but begins in the everyday choices we make. When we say ’ it’s just the way things are’ when we pay to cut the line, when we ignore injustice because it’s inconvenient, that is when corruption thrives. We are not only victims of it, we are enablers.“

A hush fell. Even the professors leaned forward. Parang may dumaang anghel sa pananahimik niya at pati ako ay natulala. I didn’t expect him to be this good. Parang gusto ko nang sumuko at sabihing siya na lang ang nanalo para hindi na ako mapahiya!

Saint smiled wider after looking back at me. “So, tell me… who’s really drowning?” his eyes locking with mine across the stage.

The audience rippled with murmurs. My grip on the podium tightened. He’s twisting it. He’s making it sound clever.

I lifted my chin. “Corruption thrives because people in power choose greed over duty. Ordinary citizens pay the price. Your serpent is dramatic, but it lets the guilty hide in the crowd. My mansion doesn’t let them hide. It names them.”

He tilted his head like he was studying me. “Ah. The crusader.” His voice warmed with mockery. “Always trembling with righteous fire.”

My jaw clenched at that. “I am not trembling.”

“Hmm,” he drawled, “Then why is your hand gripping the podium so tightly?”

Dinig ko ang pagsinghap at munting tawanang bumaha sa audience. Heat scorched my cheeks because of that.

I shot back with a sharp voice. “If I tremble, it’s from rage. Rage at officials who profit while people drown and dying!”

“Or,” he murmured, leaning just enough toward his mic, “From wanting to strangle me.”

Laughter burst from the students. Even some professors smiled. Mas lalong uminit ang magkabila kong pisngi.

How dare he joke about this?

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not that important, Mr. Rembrandt.”

“Hmm…” His grin turned wicked. “You keep telling me how unimportant I am while you can’t take your eyes off me. What is that phrase again? Ah, the more you hate the more you love.”

My throat went dry. The audience laughed again, but it was background noise now. All I could feel was the weight of his gaze, sharp and playful and unbearably close despite the space between us.

Ang kapal mukha! Ako? In love sa kanya? No fucking way! Mas mabuti pang magpalunok na lang ako sa ahas na drawing niya kaysa ma-in love sa kanya!

The moderator cleared his throat to stop the commotion. “Let’s keep it to the artworks, please.”

“Yes, of course,” he said smoothly, turning back to the crowd. “Her mansion bleeds anger. Mine bleeds fear. Both are true. But ask yourself, which lingers longer? Pity for the drowning? Or the nightmare that they could be you?”

My pulse hammered. He was good. Too fucking good. The audience leaned toward him like moths to flame.

“Fear without direction paralyzes. Anger mobilizes. My piece isn’t just about grief, it’s a demand for accountability. If we excuse corruption as inevitable, as you do, then nothing changes.”

Marami pa akong gustong sabihin pero umalis siya at prenteng naglakad palapit sa kinaroroonan ko habang hawak ang mikropono.

“Ah, but here’s the trick. You think exposing corruption is enough. That shining a light kills the snake. But snakes live in daylight too.”

My breath hitched as he stopped at the edge of my podium, leaning in. His voice dipped so low only I could hear it.

“And you tremble beautifully in the light.” aniya matapos ilayo ng bahagya sa bibig ang microphone kasabay ng pagtutok sa aming dalawa ng spotlight.

My chest constricted. For one wild moment, I forgot the audience, the debate, everything but him. His nearness, his voice, the dangerous curve of his smile—ang lahat-lahat maging ang mga pang-aasar niyang talaga namang bumabaon sa pagkatao ko.

I forced myself to snap back, my words were sharp as glass. “At least I stand in the light. You’d rather charm people in the shadows.”

“Maybe.” His smile softened into something darker, almost intimate, na para bang para sa akin lamang ’yon. “Or maybe I just enjoy pulling you into them with me.”

The air between us crackled. The audience murmured, restless, sensing something electric they couldn’t quite name. Saint was staring at me. Again. Hindi lang sa mukha ko kundi partikular muli sa mga labi ko, but this time, his glare was more intense. Na para bang siya iyong ahas na nasa canvass niya at gusto niya akong tuklawin.

The moderator’s voice cut in, almost uneasy. “That concludes the round. Thank you, contestants.”

Saka lang ako nakahinga nang umatras na siya palayo sa akin kasabay ng muling pag-ingay ng lahat. Applause roared. Some clapped for me while others were clearly rooting for him.

I stepped back, my heart was pounding as ever. Saint straightened, offering a mock bow while his eyes never left mine. And as much as I wanted to say something, my mouth didn’t move. Maski ang mga mata ko ay wala ring ginawa kundi ang titigan lang siya hanggang sa makabalik siya sa podium niya.

Shit. Will I ever win against him?

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CHAPTER 4

Chapter Four

Very Wet

Goddard’s Arts Conservatory of San Marcelino was not just a university, but also history. Generations of the country’s most renowned painters, sculptors, and installation artists had passed through its halls. Hindi basta-basta ang makapasok sa Goddard lalo na kung wala ka talagang kakayahan sa paggawa ng sining. Kumbaga ay parang unang version ng big brother house na sinasala muna ang bawat papasok at sasaraduhan naman ng pinto ang mga hindi mapipili.

To graduate from Goddard’s Arts Conservatory was to inherit not just a diploma, but a reputation. Collectors stalked the senior exhibits. Galleries waited to pounce on the most promising portfolios. Malalaking pangalan ang galing dito at isang karangalan ang mapabilang sa mga alagad ng sining na dumaan sa Goddard. And every graduating student knew that one wrong move in their final year could stain a future forever.

I knew that, and I was not about to let Saint Deimos Rembrandt my stain. Except, I hadn’t slept in three nights after I lost that art contest. Ilang araw na akong tulala at nananalanging sana ay masamang panaginip lang ’yon—pero hindi.

The first round was not as intense as the next one. And that was where I fumble. Hindi ko na nakontrol ang galit ko sa debate namin at doon magaling ang lecheng ’yon. He knew how to make me mad. At kapag galit na ako ay saka niya ako lalamunin na parang tigre at ipapaalala sa akin na hinding-hindi ako uubra sa kanya.

And he was right. Tinalo niya na naman ako kahit na ibinuhos ko na ang lahat ng effort at galing ko mula sa pagpinta hanggang sa paglaban sa ginawa kong obra.

I still hate myself after losing again to that devil. Hindi lang galit sa sarili at disappointment ang nararamdaman mo kundi parang ayaw ko na ring pumasok dahil sa kahihiyan. Kahit na pinaalalahanan naman ako ng mga kaibigan kong contest lang ’yon at parehas naman kaming magaling ay hindi ko pa rin matanggap.

I’m tired losing to Saint. Ilang beses na akong luhaan at nakakasawa na rin.

To move on from that, I dragged myself into the main studio every morning. Sa mga bagong obra ko ibinuhos ang lahat ng emosyon ko—gaya na lang ngayon.

I slumped into my usual seat beside Amandachill, my best friend since freshman year, who took one look at my face and sighed. Alam na niya kaagad ang nararamdaman ko.

“You look like you’ve been exorcising demons.” Aniya.

“I have.” I answered, my voice was flat. “And you know his name.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Still?”

Binuksan ko ang notebook ko at nagsimulang magsulat nang mariin, imagining that it was Saint’s face—mas lalo akong nagalit.

“He’s in my head. Parang garapatang nakabaon sa balat ko. When I close my eyes, I see his stupid smirk. When there’s silence, I hear his voice, and I still hear him twisting everything I said in that debate. It’s a nightmare, Amanda. Hindi ko na alam kung paano ako makakatakas sa sumpang ’to at sa masamang hanging dala ng lalaking ’yon!”

Amanda leaned on her elbow, she was patient as ever. “Celestia, listen to me carefully. He. Is. Not. Worth. It. Alam ko namang alam mo ’yan, so please let it go. You’re just letting him take up all your oxygen. He wins twice when you keep fuming like this kaya tama na.”

I groaned, dropping my forehead onto the desk. “Psh, nakakainis lang, but fine. I’ll stop. I’ll move on. He doesn’t exist. Saint Deimos Rembrandt is officially dead to me.”

“Good girl,” Tinapik-tapik niya ang balikat ko. “Kain tayo? My treat!”

Kahit paano ay gumaan ang pakiramdam ko lalo na sa mga huli niyang sinabi. Mas masarap kasi talaga ang libre.

Hindi na ako nakatakas sa kanya hanggang sa mapunta kami sa cafeteria. The place was already buzzing when we got there. The smell of fried chicken and garlic rice drifting through the air. Palingon-lingon ako dahil sa mga tumatawag sa akin para batiin. I am somehow popular at Goddard bukod sa galing ko at sa pamilyang pinanggalingan ko, but ever since that debate, mas lalong maraming nakakilala sa ’kin. Parang naging instant celebrity ako, but not without Saint’s shadow. I became more popular not being a winner, but a loser to that animal.

What’s even funnier was some posts on the internet creating another narrative of us being in a parallel universe where we do not hate each other. Sa hindi malamang dahilan ay may mga baliw na kinakikiligan ang pagbabangayan namin sa stage. Umuugong ang balitang bagay daw kami dahil para raw kaming mag-jowang may LQ.

Sana all baliw!

Humigpit ang kapit ko sa hawak na tray matapos ipilig ang ulo. I balanced my tray. I got some rice, lumpia and a can of soda. If my best friend hates carbs, ako naman ay gustong-gusto ’yon. Speaking of Amanda, I saw her waving from across the room, naghihintay na sa akin dala ang pagkain niya. Matapos kumuha ng pagkain ay naglakad na ako papunta sa sinave niyang upuan sa ’kin.

Mabilis ang bawat hakbang ko. I was smiling the whole time because people kept greeting me. I was minding my own business saying hi to people until one turn too fast, my shoulder collided with a solid chest—making my cold soda exploded down Saint’s white t-shirt!

The next thing I heard was the cafeteria gasping in unison. Natigagal ako sa bilis ng mga pangyayari. I was horrified, my hand was still gripping the empty glass. Tulala ako sa kanya at hindi alam ang gagawin!

I fucking swear I didn’t see him!

Chill went my spine when Saint looked down at his dripping shirt, then up at me. His lips curved slow instead of anger when he saw that it was me na para bang nanalo siya sa lotto.

“Celestia Sereia Castaliogne…” he said, voice pitched just loud enough for nearby tables to hear, “If you wanted me wet, you could’ve just asked. Madali naman akong kausap.”

Laughter rippled. My cheeks burned. Humigpit lalo ang hawak ko sa basong halos wala nang laman.

“I-I didn’t see you! It was an accident!” Nauutal kong sambit. “Bigla-bigla kang sumusulpot!”

“Hmm,” he said smoothly, peeling the shirt away from his chest with two fingers. Tumutulo ’yon. “Basang-basa ako.”

“I-I’m…” hindi ko maituloy ang sasabihin.

I should clearly apologize to him, pero hindi ko malunok ang pride ko kahit na kasalanan ko!

“What?”

Before I could finally apologize, a sharp voice cut in.

“Are you kidding me?!”

I turned to see Saint’s rumored girlfriend—Misha Delgado, a fellow senior with flawless eyeliner and a temper as sharp as her heels. Misha stormed forward. Napaatras ako dahil ang tingin niya ay parang matalim na kutsilyong mananaksak!

“You just had to throw yourself at him, didn’t you? Hindi pa ba tapos ang pagpapapansin mo?”

Napakurap-kurap ako sa gulat. “Excuse me?”

Misha shoved my shoulder, hard enough to jostle my tray. “Pathetic. First you humiliate yourself in that debate, and now this? Desperada ka na ba sa atensiyon ni Saint?!”

Something inside me snapped. Bago pa ako makapag-isip ng matino ay nahawakan ko na’t naitapon sa kabilang lamesa ang tray ding hawak niya.

“Watch you stupid ass mouth, Misha. You think I’d waste my soda on him? Baliw ka ba?! He’s not worth the carbonation.”

The cafeteria roared at that. Phones whipped out, cameras flashing. I bet someone was doing live, but I didn’t give a single fuck.

Misha lunged again, but I shoved back, harder.

“Touch me one more time and I fucking swear—”

“That’s enough,” umangat ang boses ni Saint, pumipigil sa aming dalawa.

He stepped between us, though his grin suggested he was enjoying every second of it. Mas lalo siyang nangisi nang mahuli niya ang mga mata ko.

“If you’re going to fight over me, at least let me grab popcorn first, Castaliogne.”

The crowd howled. Tuluyan nang naabot sa rurok ang galit ko.

“Shut up, Saint! Hindi ako makikipagtalo kung para sa ’yo lang! Hindi ako baliw kagaya niyang girlfriend mo!” I shouted.

“Make me,” he said, his eyes were glittering.

“What?!”

“Shut me up, I dare you.”

Akmang susuntukin ko na ang bibig niya nang magsidatingan ang tatlong professor para paghiwalayin kami.

The cafeteria fell into shocked silence as the three of us—me, Saint, and his animalistic girlfriend were marched out from the cafeteria like convicts.

Walang nagawa si Amanda kundi ang panuorin akong ilabas kasama ang mga sugo ng impyerno.

Hindi nawala ang pagtangis ng bagang ko hanggang sa makarating kami sa guidance office. The place was cool and sterile, the walls lined with student portfolios. Kung sa ibang pagkakataon ay na-appreciate ko na ang mga obra sa dingding dahil unang beses kong nakita ang mga iyon, pero hindi ko magawa.

I sat stiff in my chair, arms crossed, seething. Saint lounged beside me, his shirt was still damp, but he was unbothered. Misha sulked across from us, still muttering curses under her breath.

Dean Figaro, head of the Fine Arts program, pinched the bridge of his nose, sobrang disappointed nito lalo na nang makita kaming dalawa ni Saint. I bet he was tired seeing both of us too, especially after that debate.

“You are both graduating students. The pride of San Marcelino. And this is how you behave? A public spectacle? Filmed and already spreading online?”

I wanted to sink through the floor. Naiisip ko na ang sasabihin ng mga magulang ko. They will not be mad at me, but they will surely be hurt by this.

Damn it, bakit ba kasi ako pumatol pa?

“It was an accident,” I muttered. “The soda—”

“An accident followed by a shouting match and physical altercation.” The dean’s eyes cut to Misha. “Miss Delgado, you will write an apology letter and attend a mediation workshop.”

Nanlaki ang mga mata ni Misha pero imbes na magsalita ay piniling tumango na lang. Then the dean turned to me and Saint, bahagya kong nahigit ang paghinga.

“As for you two… This rivalry has gone too far. It ends now. If you cannot work together, you will not graduate.”

My stomach dropped. “What?!”

Dean Figaro folded his hands. “Your punishment is simple. You will collaborate on a mural for the main courtyard with a theme: Unity Through Art. It will be unveiled during graduation week. Failure to complete it to faculty standards will result in deductions from your final thesis grades.”

My mouth fell open. “P-Po?! You’re forcing us to—”

“Yes,” the dean cut me off firmly. “You will learn to create together so consider it your final lesson.”

Magsasalita pa sana ako para pigilan siya sa desisyon niya pero hindi ko nagawa nang marinig ang mahinang pagtawa ni Saint sa tabi ko.

“A joint mural, huh? I like it. Very… hmm, poetic.”

“Anong pinagsasasabi mo?!” Inis kong bulyaw sa kanya pero lalo lang itong nangisi.

“You will submit design drafts by Monday, you both understand?” Dean Figaro interjects.

“But Sir—”

“You’re all dismissed.”

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CHAPTER 5

Chapter Five

As Hard as You Want

I slammed my sketchpad shut with a groan, nearly toppling my pencils onto the floor. Gulat na gulat si Conrad sa ginawa ko, my nine-year-old brother. Gamit ang nakataas na kaliwang kilay ay tinitigan niya ako.

“Did your pencil do something wrong?”

“It’s not the pencil,” I muttered, shoving it away. “It’s him. That arrogant snake.”

Conrad tilted his head, ngayon ay mas concerned na siya. “Saint?”

Napairap ako nang marinig ang pangalang ’yon. “Don’t say it like that, Conrad.”

“Say it like what, ate?”

I sighed in frustration. Kinalma ko ang sarili dahil baka sa sobrang inis ay pati siya madamay. “Just don’t say it like he’s some angel descended from the heavens because he is not.”

My brother giggled, setting down his pencil. “You talk about him a lot.”

“I rant about him a lot. That’s different, Conrad.”

He smirked, the kind of smirk that made him look far too much like our father. “Same thing, ate. Are you still bitter because you lost to him?”

“I told you it wasn’t a loss. It was…” I faltered. The memory of the auditorium returned to my head, the roar of applause tilting his way, the judges’ votes sealing it. Napabuntong hininga ako.

“Fine. It was a loss. But it wasn’t fair!”

“Why?”

“Because he twists everything! He doesn’t argue. He makes jokes and smirks like nothing matters, and people eat it up! I gave them truth, and he gave them… snakes.”

Conrad scribbled something on his notebook, tongue poking out in concentration. Balewala na sa kanya ang mga ganito at gusto kong mahiya dahil talagang mukhang sanay na siya sa mga reklamo ko patungkol sa lalaki. 

Do I really talk about him a lot? Obvious na obvious ba talaga ang pagkamuhi ko sa demonyong ’yon?

“I am not jealous. I’m just mad because I felt like I got robbed. Ako dapat ang nanalo do’n!”

“Let it go, ate. It’s all in the past now and you can’t change the result even if you keep ranting. Wala nang magbabago.”

I sighed again. He was right. My nine year old brother was more mature than me. 

“Naiinis lang ako dahil pinahiya niya ako. He made me look like a child throwing a tantrum. And he knows it. He’ll never let me live it down, and now we have to do a project together!”

Conrad grinned. “Maybe he likes you.”

My eyes widened. “Don’t ever say that again.”

He only hummed, flipping to the next page of his homework, completely unconvinced.

“Stop it, Conrad!” 

Bago pa makapagsalita ang kapatid ko ay umalingawngaw na ang boses ni mommy galing sa kitchen palapit sa amin.

“Celestia, change into something nice! The Rembrandts will be here any minute.”

I froze, parang nabingi ang magkabilang tainga ko sa narinig. “The who?”

My mother peeked around the corner, apron dusted with flour—she was baking. At gusto ko nang maglaho dahil nagbi-bake lang si mommy kapag may espesyal na bisita. At kabilang sa mga espesyal na bisita na iyon ang pamilya ng taong kinamumuhian ko. 

Fuck my life.

“Saint’s family will be here for dinner. Didn’t I tell you? We invited them for dinner tonight. His parents just came back from Europe, and your father wants to discuss the new exhibit.”

Sunod-sunod ang naging paglunok ko sa sinabi niya. “You invited them?”

“Of course,” my mother answered. “We’ve been friends with the Rembrandts for years. Now go, quickly. And brush your hair.”

I dragged a hand down my face. “This is my punishment for existing. I’m really cursed.”

Conrad snorted, tuwang-tuwa sa mga reaksiyon ko. “This is your punishment for losing and being bitter, ate.”

I snarled at him. Mas lalo lang lumakas ang tawa niya. 

I hate how my world and Saint’s were so small. I hate how our families were close. I hate how my brother knew everything I hated about that man yet still loved him for who he was. Palibhasa sabik magkaroon ng kuya kaya tuwang-tuwa ang kapatid ko sa kanya. Ah basta! I will forever hate everything about that man.

Wala akong nagawa kung hindi ang mag-ayos gaya nang sabi ni mommy. I was on call with Amanda while getting dressed. Wala itong ginawa kung hindi ang pakalmahin ako at sabihing huwag daw akong maging obvious. 

“Just be casual, Celestia.”

“Fuck that.”

“Hoy bibig mo!” puna niya dahil ang totoo ay hindi naman talaga ako palamura. 

Ni hindi masama ang ugali ko at nagiging masama lang talaga kapag nasa paligid ko ang lalaking ’yon! Sumpa!

Kalaunan ay nakapagdesisyon na rin ako nang isusuot. I wore a white summer strap tie dress with mini floral prints all over. Nag-make up na rin ako ng kaunti. I tied my hair into a messy bun para naman kahit paano ay maayos ang hitsura ko kahit pa alam kong magsasabong na naman kami mamaya ni Saint.

By the time the Rembrandt arrived, I had plastered on the tightest smile I could manage. Pinilit kong pasiglahin ang sarili ko at kinumbinsi ang utak ko na hindi ako matatalo ngayong gabi sa kanya. Hindi dahil pagod na akong makipagtalo kundi dahil maraming pagkakataon pa kaming magsasama lalo na sa joint mural na kailangan naming gawin na ayaw ko na munang isipin. 

Nilawakan ko pa ang ngiti habang naglalakad na patungo sa dining area. The house buzzed with warmth and the scent of adobo simmering in the kitchen. The dining room gleamed with polished wood and art hung like jewels on the walls: canvases, sculptures, sketches collected over decades.

Wala sa sariling kumalma ang ngiti ko dahil sa mga nakita. I am grateful to really be part of this family. Hindi ko alam kung namana ko ba talaga ang pagiging artistic ng mga magulang ko at kanuno-nunuan, but art really was an escape for me. My unpaid therapist. It was our family’s lifeblood. 

Naputol ang ngiting iyon nang maalala ang mga bisita. If art was our family’s lifeblood, then it was also the same for the Rembrandts—another dynasty of artists and collectors. That being said, as much as I hated to admit it, they were practically family too. 

I prepared myself when I heard a commotion. Tanda na dumating na ang mga bisita. I plastered a wide smile on my face as I entered the receiving area. My eyes automatically shifted at the man who was strolling in behind his parents, immaculate in a black button-down, his posture loose, always confident. 

My heart thud when his gaze found mine almost immediately, and his grin spread slow and deliberate. Halos kuminang ang mapuputi at pantay-pantay niyang ngipin dahil sa tindi ng pagngisi.

“Celestia,” he drawled, like he was savoring my name. “Still trembling?”

My jaw clenched so hard I nearly cracked a molar. Pinilit ko pa ring panatilihin ang ngiti ko at binalewala siya.

“Saint,” my mother said warmly, drawing him into a hug. “Congratulations on your win. Your serpent was haunting. So striking.”

“Thank you, Tita Cecille,” he said, gracious as ever. Then, as he straightened, he looked straight at me again. “Though I couldn’t have done it without such fierce competition. Celestia kept me on my toes.”

I greeted his parents instead of focusing on him. Tiniis ko ang mga walang kabuluhang salita niya hanggang sa makarating kaming lahat sa dining area. 

Kahit paano ay nakahinga ako nang maluwag nang makaupo na kami sa hapag. I was seated across his mother while Conrad was in front of him. The long dining table was laden with steaming dishes. Conversation flowed easily among the adults talking about exhibitions, galleries, politics. I picked at my rice, half-listening. Masaya ang mga kuwentuhan at kumustahan hanggang sa magsalita uli ang sugo ng kadiliman.

“Of course,” he said, pouring water into his glass, “winning wasn’t easy. Celestia’s work was powerful. Almost… too powerful.” He glanced at me, eyes glittering. “It screamed so loudly, I thought it might drown me out.”

My fork froze mid-air. Is he mocking me? Or complimenting? Both? Hindi talaga natatapos ang kayabangan niya? Stupid.

My father chuckled. “That’s what makes her work unique. Celestia paints with fire.”

“Mm,” Saint murmured, lips curving. “She does. You can almost feel the heat.”

The table laughed. My ears burned at that. Parang hindi ko talaga mapapanindigan ang mga ngiti ko at pagiging mabait.

“Ate said she wants to strangle you.” Singit ni Conrad habang puno nang nginunguyang kanin ang bibig.

“Conrad!”

Saint leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand, utterly unbothered. Tuluyang nang nawala ang ngiti ko nang ititig niya sa akin ang mga matang tuwang-tuwa. 

“Did she now?” His grin widened. 

“Yeah. She’s so mad at you, kuya.”

“Stop it, Conrad! Ikaw ang sasakalin ko kapag hindi ka tumigil!” 

“Nah, it’s alright, Celestia. You can do it to me instead, I don’t mind. I kinda like being choked.” aniya na ang mga huling salita ay may sapat na lakas na para bang ako lang ang gustong makarinig.

The table roared with laughter, assuming it was all in good fun. But Saint’s eyes never left mine, dark and playful, his words was always meant for me alone.

The meal dragged on, a blur of flavors I couldn’t taste. Hiyang-hiya ako. I always rant about Saint to my brother pero ngayon lang niya ako nilaglag ng ganito. Baka nagsawa na rin sa mga reklamo ko sa buhay, nakakahiya. I know it was obvious that I will forever be mad at that man, but I don’t want our parents to see it. As much as possible gusto ko namang maging kaswal at hindi pikon sa paningin nila kahit na napakahirap.

But I couldn’t hide my anger every time I opened my mouth and Saint was there, turning my words into banter, slipping in sly remarks that made my pulse leap. I hate how he praised my brushstrokes but compared them to “claws.” I hate how he asked if my hand had stopped trembling since the debate. He even leaned close once, voice low, to murmur how adorable I was when I am furious.

Tuluyan nang nawala ang mga ngiti ko nang dumating ang dessert, nawalan na ako nang gana. As the adults lingered over coffee and cake, I escaped to the balcony, gulping in the night air. The hum of cicadas filled the silence. I pressed my palms against the railing, trying to steady my breath. 

Kalma Celestia… Kalma. Paulit-ulit ang mga salitang iyon sa utak ko.

“Running away so soon?”

My stomach dropped. I turned to find Saint leaning against the doorway, silhouetted in the soft glow of the dining room behind him.

“You’ve had your fun, Saint,” I snapped. “Go gloat somewhere else. Tantanan mo na ako.”

He stepped onto the balcony, closing the distance between us with lazy strides. “Gloat? No, no. That wasn’t gloating. That was teasing. Masyado kang galit sa ’kin.”

“Because you’re insufferable.”

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

“Excuse me?!”

Ngumisi lang ito. “You can’t stop looking at me, talking about me, hating me. It’s almost flattering, Celestia.”

My pulse raced at that. “Nababaliw ka na kung gano’n.”

“Maybe.” He braced one hand on the railing beside mine, leaning just close enough that I could feel his warmth. “But tell me, when was the last time you lost sleep over anyone else?”

Nahigit ko ang paghinga. Gusto kong umatras palayo sa kanya pero hindi ko magawa, as if my feet was glued to the ground! 

He tilted his head, studying my face like I was the canvas now. “Exactly,” he murmured when I couldn’t find the right words to answer him. Then, with a wicked grin, he straightened and stepped back toward the door. Ako naman ang napakapit nang mahigpit sa railings.

“Goodnight, Celestia. Kung makakatulong sa pagtulog mo ang pagsakal sa ’kin sa panaginip, then do it. Choke me as hard as you want. Sweet dreams.”

---

Advanced chapters are already posted on Haloreads (FREE READ app by Jonaxx) and VIP/Patreon. Message CENG CRDVA facebook page to read all exclusive and new stories.

CHAPTER 6

Chapter Six

Rough Draft

I must admit that I am becoming obsessed with him. Sabihin ko mang gawa lang ’yon ng galit ay obsession pa rin ang tawag do’n. And I realized it was not doing me good. Sa bawat galit at ganti ko nang sagot sa kanya ay ako lang ang napapasama. Tulad na lang ngayon.

Tulala ako matapos magising. Not only because the scenes from the dinner and him on the balcony with me still linger in my head, but because I did dream of him. Hindi ko man siya nasakal sa panaginip ko ay galit pa rin ako at sa huli ay talo pa rin sa kanya. I also realized that my anger got me into a deeper mess, and now I blame myself.

Kung hindi kasi ako pumatol kay Misha at nag-sorry na lang kay Saint nang matapunan ko siya ng soda ay sana natapos na at malayo na uli kami sa isa’t isa, pero hindi. My pride was too hurt to even say sorry to him even though it was entirely my fault. Ang ending tuloy, imbes na mapahinga ako at mapayapa ang puso ko malayo sa kanya ay mas lalo pang lumiit ang mundo namin dahil sa mural na punishment ni Dean Figaro.

I became so lazy after the night with the Rembrandts until Monday morning. I had to dragged myself to the bathroom after thirty minutes of looking at a blank space. Kahit nang matapos akong maligo ay para pa rin akong lantang gulay sa bagal kong kumilos dahilan para ma-late ako sa usapan naming pagkikita para sa draft nang gagawing mural.

Mula sa gate ng Goddard ay lutang pa rin ako. The conservatory’s corridors buzzed with students preparing for finals, but all I felt was dread pooling in my stomach. Imbes na bilisan ang mga hakbang ay parang may mga hollow blocks na nakatali sa magkabilang paa ko sa bawat hakbang ko patungo studio kaya sobrang bagal ko. I clutched my sketchpad to my chest, whispering a silent prayer that this wouldn’t turn into the nightmare I already knew it would. sa huli ay napailing na lang ako dahil imposible iyon.

A mural. With him. Unity Through Art. Napabuntong hininga ako .  Dean Figaro might as well have said, learn to suffer together . 

Bakit ba kasi nadamay pa ako eh kung tutuusin ay ’yong girlfriend niya naman talaga ang nagsimula ng gulo? Why do I feel like the punishment was unfair? Bakit kaming dalawa lang? Bakit hindi na lang silang dalawa? bakit hindi na lang ako pinaglinis ng buong campus kung talagang gusto akong matuto dahil never ko pang nagawa ’yon? Tingin ko nga mas marami pa  akong matututunan sa paglilinis kaysa ang makasama sa isang project ang lalaking ’yon. 

Ipinilig ko ang ulo bago pa muling umakyat ang galit ko. I focused on my steps and forced myself to stop thinking about anything. Sabi nga ni Conrad, wala nang mangyayari dahil nakalipas na ang lahat. Kung may dapat man akong gawin ay tapusin ang mural para makawala na sa presensiya niya. 

Kung kailan namin matatapos at kung gaano katagal? Iyon ang hindi ko alam.

My jaw dropped as I entered the studio we’d been assigned to do the mural. I almost forgot that it was the largest in the building, with a ceiling so high it made me dizzy to look up. One entire wall had been stripped bare, smooth plaster gleaming like the belly of some enormous beast. 

Natigil ako sa pagtingala nang matunton ng mga mata ko ang isang bultong mukhang kanina pa naghihintay. He was already there, as usual. Perched on a scaffold as if it were a throne, sketchbook balanced on his knee, pencil twirling between long fingers. He looked maddeningly at ease, like he hadn’t just been sentenced to forced labor with his greatest enemy.

“You’re late,” he said without looking at me.

I glanced at my phone. “Seven minutes lang.”

“Artists don’t count minutes, Celestia. They count inspiration and you’ve already wasted mine.” masungit niyang sagot habang patuloy na nakatitig sa sketchbook niya.

“Eh ’di sorry. Pasensiya na kung tamad na tamad akong pumunta rito at makipagtrabaho sa ’yo.”

My statement earned me a glance, napalunok ako. His sharp, dark eyes flicked up. Sa unang pagkakataon ay walang ngisi sa kanyang mga labi. He looked like he had woken up on the other side of the bed. Parang may regla. Or maybe, ayaw niya lang na nali-late ako?

“Here’s what I’ve got,” he said, flipping his sketchbook. He was still serious.

Lumapit ako para tignan ’yon. I hadn’t expected much. Maybe some careless doodles, half-baked shapes. But when he shoved the page toward me, my breath caught despite myself.

He drew two colossal figures reached across the wall, hands almost touching, a river curling between them. Spirals of leaves and abstract patterns framed the edges, movement and growth captured in every stroke. It was bold, commanding and infuriatingly good. 

Bigla akong nahiya. I didn’t expect him to create something good and it was my bad. Kailan nga ba gumawa ng pangit ang lalaking ’to? Even if this project was only for our punishment and not some kind of a contest, mukhang pinaghandaan niya at gusto pa ring pag-igihan. 

I hated it. Not because it was bad, but because it was brilliant. Hindi maipagkakailang magaling talaga siya at seryoso pagdating sa mga sining.

“You’re welcome,” he said after I fell silent, staring at his draft. 

Kahit na ayaw ko ay binuksan ko rin ang sa akin at ipinakita sa kanya. “Here’s mine.”

My draft was softer. A silhouettes of students forming a circle, brushes in hand, colors spilling outward like light. Hopeful, communal.

Saint studied it for a long moment. Sa paglipas ng mga segundo ay parang gusto ko nang punitin iyon. I knew he was judging me, and I was right when his lips twitched. Then he laughed. I was truly offended by that.

“Cute. Like something you’d put on a kindergarten wall.”

“Excuse me?!” 

“It’s sweet, Celestia. Too sweet. The dean wants something that screams unity. Yours whispers it.”

“At least mine doesn’t scream pretentious artist with a god complex.”

“Better that than an amateur greeting card maker.”

That shut me up. Inis kong dinampot ang sketch book ko pero hindi na siya sinagot. The air between us vibrated with tension, like a wire pulled too tight. I wanted to claw those dark orbs off his face. But as my eyes slid back to his sketch, a thought struck me. 

Against my will, I saw it, his strong figures merging with my radiant circle, his river bleeding into my colors. I saw a perfect vision that made me yield.

“Fine. We combine our drafts.”

His eyebrow arched. “Didn’t expect you to admit I had a point.”

“I didn’t. Don’t get used to it. Tamad na tamad lang talaga ako kaya hindi ko ’to masyadong napaghandaan.”

I waited for his banter but he was already sketching revisions, pencil moving quick and confident. Wala akong nagawa kundi ang panuorin siyang tahimik na pinagsasama ang mga idea namin. 

We ended up side by side, hunched over the same paper, erasers smudging, tempers flaring. Yet somehow, the lines began to merge. Hands reaching, colors radiating, water dissolving into paint. When we leaned back at last, the rough draft was powerful. It was perfect. Na para bang nakuha niya rin ang gusto kong iguhit nitong weekend na hindi ko magawa-gawa. He fixed everything.

“What do you think?”

“Better.” I answered.

“Good. Ako na ang magpapasa kay Dean Figaro.”

“You think it’s enough?”

He nodded. “We can always revise it if he doesn’t like it.”

“And waste more time?”

Wala sa sariling nagtaasan ang mga balahibo ko sa braso nang sa unang pagkakataon ay bumalik ang nakakalokong pag-ngisi niya.

“You think we’ll finish the mural in two weeks?”

“Kakayanin ’to ng one week. I’ll ask for help—”

“At paano kung makarating kay Dean Figaro na humingi ka ng tulong sa punishment natin?”

“You really expect us to finish this all by ourselves?! Hindi natin matatapos ’to kahit isang buwan, Saint.”

“We’ll work on this until the last day of semester. Hindi pa ba obvious sa ’yo? Tingin mo ba simpleng punishment lang ang gusto ni Dean?”

“Well that’s unfair! Hindi lang naman tayo ang gumawa ng gulo! Isa pa, it’s your girlfriend who started the fight! Gumanti lang ako kaya bakit hindi siya tumulong para matapos tayo kaagad?!”

He shrugged his shoulders, walang pakialam at mukhang ayaw nang pakinggang ang mga rason ko. “Ask the dean because it was his decision and not mine.”

“You ask him! It’s your fault! Kasama ng exaggerated mong girlfriend! I can’t work with you for that long. Kung ayaw mong mapabilis ’to, then bahala ka sa buhay mo. Basta ako, kukuha ako ng tulong!”

Humigpit ang kapit ko sa mga lapis na hawak ko nang marinig muli ang sarkastiko niyang mahinang pagtawa—halatang nauubusan na nang pasensiya sa akin.

Napaatras ako sa kanyang pagtayo. I still challenged his gaze even as my knees were starting to wobble under his sharp stare. Pinigilan kong mapalunok nang malusaw ang ngisi sa kanyang mga labi at unti-unting dumilim ang kanyang presensiya.

“S-Saint—”

“Tingin mo ba gusto kong makatrabaho ka? You think I like seeing you every day just to do a stupid mural when I could be doing so much more with my time? You think I like listening to your annoying, nonsensical rants? No, so don’t flatter yourself, Celestia. Don’t act like a victim dahil hindi lang naman ikaw ang naperwisyo rito. Grow up and shut the fuck up for once.”

---

Advanced chapters are already posted on Haloreads (FREE READ app by Jonaxx) and VIP/Patreon. Message CENG CRDVA facebook page to read all exclusive and new stories.

CHAPTER 7

Chapter Seven

Surprise In His Eyes

Saint’s words really shut me up.

Hindi ko alam kung paano ako nakapunta sa klase ko nang araw na ’yon at kung paano nag-function nang hindi umiiyak. It was the first time I got scolded and cursed by him. Kung noon ay puro pang-aasar lang ang kaya nitong gawin sa akin, ngayon ay parang nahawa na rin ito sa galit ko sa kanya. And I was not used to being scolded or shouted at—not even by my own parents.

Sa tuwing may nagagawa kasi akong mali ay kinakausap lang ako ng mga magulang ko. Wala rin akong natatandaang sigawan na nangyari sa bahay. Everyone was gentle of me and my brother. Kahit sa mga kasambahay ay mababait din ang mga magulang ko kaya totoong naapektuhan ako sa ginawa ni Saint kanina. Swerte na lang talaga na hindi tumulo ang mga luha ko kahit na patuloy na nanikip ang dibdib ko sa sama ng loob.

“Uy! Ano ba, okay ka lang ba?” si Aniah dahil hindi ko namalayang tulala na naman ako.

“Are you okay? Iniisip mo na naman si Saint ’no?” si Amanda naman na nakataas pa ang kilay na para bang gusto akong pigain at paamining hindi na galit ang nararamdaman ko para sa lalaki.

“I’m just tired. Hindi ako nakatulog ng maayos kagabi.”

I lied. Baka kasi kapag sinabi ko sa kanila ang nangyari kanina sa studio ay matulad sila kay Conrad na sawang-sawa na sa pakikinig sa mga reklamo ko tungkol sa lalaking ’yon. I was getting tired of my anger too, and at this point, I did think I really need to shut up, just like what that man had told me.

“Because?”

“Ano pa nga ba? Isa lang naman ng problema n’yan and we both know who.” si Aniah naman.

Imbes na patulan ay natahimik na lang ako. Mabuti na lang at kahit na gusto nilang malaman ang dahilan ng malalim kong pag-iisip ay hindi na sila nagpumilit. Somehow, they both understand what I was going through. Gustohin man nilang tulungan ako ay wala silang magagawa. That punishment was only meant for me and Saint. Again, tama ang lalaki at wala akong magagawa kundi ang pagdaanan, tiisin, at tapusin ang proyekto.

I didn’t eat dinner that day. Talagang sobrang baba ang energy ko kahit nang puntahan ako ni Dio, ang anak ng mayordoma naming halos kaedad ko lang at naging close ko na rin dahil simula pagkabata ay kami na ang magkalaro. She was also one of the Castaliogne’s scholars. Matalino kaya hindi nanghihinayang ang mga magulang kong paaralin siya at ibigay ang lahat ng kailangan niya sa school.

“Okay ka lang? Sabi ni Conrad hindi ka raw kumain?”

Tipid ko siyang nginitian. She sat on my bed. Napanguso ako nang hawakan niya ang noo ko, kinakapa kung may lagnat ako.

“I’m fine.”

“Mukhang hindi. May nangyari ba no’ng dinner? Ang balita lang sa ’kin ni Conrad ay galit na galit ka na naman daw kay Saint. Anong ginawa niya sa ’yo?”

I heaved a sigh. I really didn’t want to tell her my problems because I was getting tired of telling people about them, but I also didn’t want to keep it to myself. Bago pa ako makapagsalita ay tumulo na ang mga luha ko, ngayon lang tuluyang bumuhos ang sama ng loob na itinago ko buong araw.

Agad akong niyakap ni Dio. She was shocked to see me cry. Hindi naman kasi ako iyakin. Kung tutuusin nga ay masayahin akong tao at hindi kailanman naging ganito. Siguro parte na rin ang paglapit ng red days ko kaya masyado akong sensitive. I hate it.

“What happened, Celestia? You can tell me.”

Umiling ako. “I’m okay.”

“Stop telling me that because clearly, you are not. Kilala na kita. Hindi man ako madalas nakakapunta rito dahil sa schoolwork pero wala kang maitatago sa akin. You’re also not a good liar, so please tell me now.”

Hindi pa rin ako nakasagot.

“Is it him again?”

Bigo akong tumango habang pinupunasan ang mga luhang patuloy na tumutulo sa mga mata ko.

“Anong ginawa niya sa ’yo at bakit nagpaapekto ka? Kilala mo na ang lalaking ’yon. Alam kong alam mo kung paano siya suplahin pero bakit ngayon natalo ka na naman?”

Wala na akong nagawa kundi ang sabihin sa kanya ang lahat ng mga nangyari kanina. She was shocked when I told her what Saint had said to me. She was sorry for me. Inalo ako ni Dio hanggang sa kumalma ako at naubos ang mga luha ko. She let me cry it all out. Nang matigil ay kahit paano’y gumaan ang pakiramdam ko.

“You’re stronger that this, Celestia. Huwag na huwag kang magpapatalo sa lalaking ’yon. Don’t even give him the power to make you this weak. Hindi ka mahina. Huwag mong ipakitang under ka niya o natatakot ka sa kanya. Matagal na panahon pa kayong magsasama kaya dapat tatagan mo ang dibdib mo. Don’t even think of losing to him again. Huwag kang magpaapekto sa kanya, okay? Just do your job and that’s it. Hindi mo siya kailangang pansinin.”

Pupungas-pungas akong tumango. Naluluha pa rin ako kahit na nakuha ko naman ang mga payo niya. I thanked her when I finally stopped crying. Maga ang matang nayaya niya akong kumain ng hapunan. We ended up talking about the best moments from these past few weeks, and that made me forget the reason why I cried.

Nagpasalamat ako sa pagbisita ni Dio dahil kung wala siya ay baka maga ang mata kong pumasok kinabukasan.

I felt lighter the next day I woke up. Maaga akong nakapunta sa studio pero nauna pa rin sa akin ang lalaki. I was silent the whole time. I didn’t even greet him good morning. He didn’t say a single word and instead, we faced the blank expanse of wall, buckets of primer at our feet. Ayos na ring magsimula dahil may approval na ni Dean Figaro ang draft ng mural kaya nagsimula na rin ako.

I haven’t tried starting my art at the corner of a canvas, but today was different. Sa pinakadulo’t kaliwa ako nagsimula para malayo kami sa isa’t isa. I put my headphones on and without further ado, I started my thing.

Sa gilid ng aking mga mata ay tahimik din siya pero ilang beses ko ring nahuling pasulyap-sulyap sa akin. Binalewala ko lang ito.

For hours, we worked in silence broken only by the squeak of rollers and the drip of paint. Sweat rolled down my spine, my arms ached, and my patience frayed. When I paused to wipe my forehead, Saint flicked his roller just enough to splatter primer across my shirt. Nanlaki ang mga mata ko. Inis kong tinanggal ang headphones ko at tinitigan siya ng matalim.

“Hey!”

Agad niyang itinaas ang magkabilang kamay sa ere at sinabing, “Accident.”

I rolled my eyes at him. I was about to say a lot of hurtful words, but I reminded myself that it would not do me good. Dapat kong alalahanin ang mga sinabi ni Dio. Hindi ako dapat magpaapekto sa lalaking ’to. He was a waste of breath.

Nang makita ang pagsilay ng malademonyo niyang ngisi ay muli ko siyang inirapan.

“Papansin.” I muttered to myself as I continued my work without minding him.

Mabuti na lang at hindi na ito nangulit hanggang sa iwan ko siya sa studio.

By the end of the week, our outlines stretched across the wall like veins, guiding where color would soon flow. Kahit na malayo pa sa katotohanan ay nagpapasalamat akong nakapagsimula na kami. We clashed over everything: shades of red, placement of figures, thickness of lines. He wanted bold, I wanted soft. He thrived on abstraction, I clung to form. Kahit na walang masyadong pag-uusap na namagitan sa amin ay nagkakasundo pa rin kami sa tinginan lang.

And I was glad that it was working. Pwede naman pala ang ganito, thanks to my head phones na kahit anong sabihin niya ay kunwari wala akong naririnig kahit na may isang beses na suot ko lang iyon at wala akong pinakikinggang kanta. Mabuti at tikom din ang bibig niya the whole time.

It really helped the both of us when we finally stopped bickering and let ourselves paint. Mabilis ang trabaho. Our styles bled into each other like they were meant to. Ang mga matatalas niyang guhit ay nagbibigay ng linaw sa ginagawa ko. My gradients softened his jagged edges. It was infuriating how good it looked. Magaan sa pakiramdam na hindi kami nag-uusap at lalong hindi nag-aaway.

Habang tumatagal ay nagiging kampante na akong katrabaho siya. We worked three times a week. Minsan kapag vacant ko o walang professor ay dumadaan ako sa studio para ipagpatuloy ang mural. There were times that I got to do more especially when he was not around. Minsan nagugulat na lang itong may nadagdag sa trabaho namin. I must say na mas okay ang trabaho nang hindi kami nag-uusap o nagkikita. It was better that way.

On the second week of us doing the mural, I found myself not doing anything but staring at what we worked for.

Wala sa sariling napangiti ako lalo na nang pumasok ang gintong sinag ng araw mula sa bintana at tumutok sa mural. I stepped back, brush in hand, and my chest tightened. Wala sa sariling naiangat ko ang kamay sa liwanag. My hands were tired from working for two hours straight, but the light somehow gave me rest. Hindi pa man tapos ang trabaho at maraming oras pa ang kailangang gugulin pero sobrang proud na ako sa sarili ko.

I was minding my own business, admiring what I did for the day, letting happiness seep into my heart when I heard a commotion that cut my focus.

Natigagal ako lalo na nang marinig ang mga malalanding halinghing papasok sa studio. The next thing I saw was the people swallowing each other’s faces. Para silang mga tigang na animal na wala nang gustong piliin lugar makapagparaos lang.

My heart thud louder when I saw a familiar face—ang mukhang ilang araw ko nang nakikita… ang lalaking ilang araw ko na ring pilit na hindi kinakausap.

I was shocked by the scene lalo na’t mukhang hindi nila ako nakikita o wala silang pake sa akin basta makapaghalikan lang sila. Imbes naman na umalis ako at magtago ay lalo lang akong natulala nang makitang hindi si Misha ang kahalikan ni Saint. It was someone from the freshman year.

Shit. First time kong makapanuod ng live na halikan.

I had never been kissed, and I don’t know what to feel about it lalo na’t rinig na rinig ko ang sarap na sarap na ungol ng babae.

Wala sa sariling napasinghap ako nang sa pagdilat ng mga mata ni Saint ay awtomatikong nagtagpo ang mga mata namin.

There was a split second of surprise in his eyes, but it immediately disappeared when I swallowed hard—still watching them make out in front of me.

Shit.

Ako naman ang muling natigagal nang imbes na ihinto niya ang ginagawa dahil nakita niya akong nanunuod ay mas pinag-igihan lang nito ang paghalik sa babae… habang ang mga mata ay nakatutok sa akin.

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