A LOVE WE LEFT BEHIND

Chapter 8 The Distance Between Us

A love we left behind

Chapter 8 — The Distance Between Us

The morning after Zielle moved into her new home, everything seemed different.

Not dramatically different.

Walang malaking pagbabago sa routine niya. She still woke up early, drank her coffee while reading emails, went downstairs to her law chambers, reviewed case files, met clients, and spent most of the day working.

But there was something comforting about knowing that when the workday ended, she didn't have to drive somewhere else.

She only had to walk upstairs.

Her office was downstairs.

Her life was upstairs.

And somehow, the arrangement felt perfect.

At least, it did until she arrived at her desk and saw the bouquet waiting for her.

Pink tulips.

Zielle stopped.

She looked at her secretary.

“Again?”

Her secretary tried not to smile.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“From?”

The secretary raised the small card.

“I'm pretty sure you already know.”

Zielle sighed.

She took the card.

For a good morning. Nothing more. — Clert

She stared at it.

“Nothing more?”

Her secretary shrugged.

“That's what the card says.”

Zielle shook her head.

“Ang kapal talaga.”

“Ma'am?”

“Nothing.”

She picked up the flowers.

“Put them upstairs.”

Her secretary blinked.

“Again?”

Zielle looked at her.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

As her secretary carried the bouquet upstairs, Zielle watched her go.

She didn't know when it happened.

She didn't know how.

But somehow, Clert's flowers had stopped being something she wanted to reject.

She still wasn't ready to admit what they meant.

But she wasn't throwing them away anymore.

---

By ten in the morning, Zielle was already in a meeting with the residents' representatives.

The relocation agreement was progressing.

There were still several provisions to negotiate, particularly regarding the timeline and the livelihood assistance.

But compared with the first hearing, the situation had changed considerably.

The residents were no longer anxious about whether they would be heard.

They were beginning to feel that there was an actual plan.

Zielle looked around the conference room.

“Before we proceed, I want everyone to understand one thing.”

Mang Tomas and the other representatives listened.

“Hindi pa final ang agreement.”

They nodded.

“We still need to review the legal documents, the construction schedule, the transfer procedures, and the specific house allocations.”

She looked at them one by one.

“But we're moving forward.”

Mang Tomas smiled.

“Salamat po, Attorney.”

Zielle nodded.

“Don't thank me yet. We still have work to do.”

One of the residents laughed.

“Strict talaga kayo.”

Zielle smiled.

“That's why you hired me.”

The room relaxed.

Then the conference room door opened.

Olcen entered.

He was carrying several folders.

“Good morning.”

Zielle looked at him.

“Attorney Navarro.”

“Attorney Rivera.”

He placed the folders on the table.

“Revised documents from the company.”

Zielle opened one.

“Where's Clert?”

Olcen raised an eyebrow.

The room suddenly became quiet.

Zielle realized what she had asked.

“I mean—”

Olcen smiled.

“Good question.”

Zielle narrowed her eyes.

“Attorney Navarro.”

“He's at the construction site.”

“Why?”

“Inspection.”

Zielle nodded.

“Okay.”

Olcen sat down.

Then, very casually, he said,

“You missed him?”

Zielle looked at him.

“No.”

“Okay.”

“No.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You were going to.”

Olcen smiled.

“I like you.”

Zielle stared at him.

“That's unfortunate.”

The residents tried not to laugh.

Olcen placed a hand over his chest.

“Ang sakit.”

Zielle returned to the documents.

“Let's continue.”

Olcen smiled to himself.

He liked teasing her.

But he also understood something.

Zielle was beginning to ask about Clert without realizing it.

And that meant something.

---

Later that afternoon, Zielle visited the relocation site.

She wanted to inspect the latest developments herself.

The site had changed significantly since her last visit.

Several roads had already been prepared.

Drainage construction had started.

The first group of houses was beginning to take shape.

Zielle walked carefully through the area, reviewing the plans with the site engineer.

“How many houses are already under construction?”

“Eight, Attorney.”

“Any delays?”

“None so far.”

“Water connection?”

“Scheduled next week.”

“Electricity?”

“Already coordinated with the provider.”

Zielle nodded.

“Good.”

Then she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Your timing is perfect.”

She turned.

Clert.

He was wearing a white polo shirt with the sleeves slightly rolled up, dark trousers, and a helmet he had apparently been wearing during the inspection.

Zielle looked at him.

“You're here.”

Clert smiled.

“I'm here almost every day.”

“I didn't know.”

“You didn't ask.”

She gave him a look.

“I don't need to know where you are.”

“I know.”

He didn't sound offended.

That somehow made it worse.

Zielle turned back toward the houses.

“What's the update?”

Clert immediately became professional.

“The first eight houses should be ready for inspection in about three weeks.”

“Three weeks?”

“Yes.”

She looked at the plans.

“That's faster than the original schedule.”

“We added another construction team.”

“Why?”

“To avoid delays.”

Zielle looked at him.

“You're really serious about finishing this.”

Clert nodded.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He paused.

“Because people are waiting.”

That answer was simple.

But Zielle felt something shift inside her.

He didn't say it was because of the company.

He didn't say it was because of the lawsuit.

He didn't say it was because he wanted to impress her.

He simply said—

People are waiting.

Zielle nodded.

“Good answer.”

Clert smiled.

“Thank you.”

---

They continued walking.

At one point, they stopped near a house that was almost finished.

Clert opened the door.

“This one is for the Santos family.”

Zielle looked inside.

“How many are in their family?”

“Seven.”

She looked around.

“Three bedrooms?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“There is also a small space in the back.”

“For what?”

“They requested a small sari-sari store.”

Zielle looked at him.

“You remembered?”

Clert nodded.

“They've had one for fifteen years.”

She smiled faintly.

“That's good.”

Clert looked at her.

“You were right.”

“About what?”

“That relocation isn't just about houses.”

Zielle became quiet.

“It took me a while to understand that.”

“You listened.”

“I should have listened sooner.”

She looked at him.

There was something different about his expression.

Something almost vulnerable.

Zielle quickly looked away.

“Let's check the next house.”

“Okay.”

They continued walking.

Neither noticed Olcen watching them from several meters away.

He smiled.

Then he shook his head.

“Finally.”

---

That evening, Zielle returned home exhausted.

She went upstairs, changed into comfortable clothes, and headed directly to the kitchen.

She opened the refrigerator.

Nothing looked appealing.

She sighed.

“Should've bought dinner.”

She was about to order when someone rang the doorbell.

Zielle frowned.

It was already past seven.

She walked downstairs.

Her secretary had already gone home.

The law office was empty.

She checked the security monitor.

Her eyes widened.

Clert.

She opened the gate remotely.

He stood outside holding a paper bag.

When he entered, Zielle crossed her arms.

“What are you doing here?”

Clert lifted the bag.

“Dinner.”

“I can order.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you bring food?”

“You looked tired.”

She stared at him.

“You were watching me?”

“No.”

“Then how did you know?”

“I saw you at the site.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I wasn't that tired.”

“You were.”

“I wasn't.”

“You almost walked into a construction barrier.”

Zielle froze.

“You saw that?”

“Yes.”

She looked embarrassed.

“I was reading.”

“I know.”

He smiled.

“That's why I brought dinner.”

She looked at the bag.

“What is it?”

“Food.”

“I know it's food.”

Clert laughed softly.

“Your favorite.”

She sighed.

“You really remember everything.”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation.

No joke.

Just a simple answer.

Zielle looked away.

“Come in.”

Clert's smile softened.

“Thank you.”

---

They sat in the dining area upstairs.

Zielle had hesitated before allowing him upstairs.

It was her home.

Her private space.

She had never imagined Clert would be sitting at her dining table again.

Not after everything.

Clert looked around quietly.

“It's beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“You designed it?”

“Most of it.”

He nodded.

“It feels like you.”

Zielle raised an eyebrow.

“What does that mean?”

“Simple.”

She smiled.

“I'm not simple.”

“I know.”

He looked around again.

“Warm.”

She became quiet.

“And independent.”

Zielle looked at him.

“Independent?”

“You always wanted something that was yours.”

She stared at him.

“You remember that?”

“I remember.”

She lowered her eyes.

“When we were young, you used to say you wanted your own office someday.”

“I said that?”

“You did.”

“I don't remember.”

“I do.”

She looked at him.

“Of course you do.”

They ate quietly for a while.

Then Clert noticed the vase on the nearby table.

Pink tulips.

His flowers.

His eyes moved toward Zielle.

She followed his gaze.

“Oh.”

“You kept them.”

Zielle immediately became defensive.

“They're flowers.”

“I know.”

“I don't throw away flowers.”

“I know.”

He smiled.

“Thank you.”

She looked at him.

“Don't make it a big deal.”

“I won't.”

And he didn't.

That was what surprised her.

He didn't tease her.

Didn't make a romantic comment.

Didn't say anything that would make her uncomfortable.

He simply continued eating.

And somehow, that made the moment more meaningful.

---

After dinner, Clert stood.

“I should go.”

Zielle nodded.

“Thank you for the food.”

“You're welcome.”

He walked toward the stairs.

Then stopped.

“Zielle?”

“Yes?”

“Your house is beautiful.”

She smiled.

“Thank you.”

He looked at her.

“You worked hard for it.”

She nodded.

“Yes.”

“I'm proud of you.”

Zielle's expression softened.

“Clert…”

He smiled gently.

“Good night.”

Then he left.

Zielle stood at the top of the stairs, watching him walk through the law office below.

When the door closed, the house became quiet again.

She looked at the flowers.

Then at the empty dining table.

For some reason, the house didn't feel as lonely as it had before.

---

The following day, Zielle's brother Zane came to visit.

He arrived around lunch.

Zielle was in her office reviewing documents when he entered.

“Busy?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She looked up.

“What do you want?”

Zane laughed.

“Can't I visit my sister?”

“You can.”

He sat across from her.

“I wanted to see the house.”

“You've already seen it.”

“Not properly.”

He looked around.

“This office is impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“You should be proud.”

“I am.”

Zane nodded.

Then he noticed the flowers.

His eyes narrowed.

“Those are new.”

Zielle immediately continued reading.

“Flowers are common.”

“From him?”

She looked up.

“Who?”

Zane gave her a look.

“Seriously?”

Zielle sighed.

“Yes.”

“Clert?”

“Yes.”

Zane leaned back.

“He's still sending flowers?”

“Yes.”

“And you're keeping them?”

Zielle didn't answer.

Zane looked toward the staircase.

“Where are the others?”

Zielle's eyes widened.

“What others?”

He smiled.

“Ah.”

She glared at him.

“Don't.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You're smiling.”

“Because you're obviously keeping them.”

Zielle crossed her arms.

“So what?”

Zane's expression softened.

“Nothing.”

He stood.

“I just want you to be careful.”

“I know.”

“You don't have to forgive him.”

“I know.”

“You don't owe him anything.”

“I know.”

Zane nodded.

“Good.”

He walked toward the door.

Then turned back.

“But if someday you decide to give him another chance…”

Zielle looked at him.

“Don't rush.”

Zane smiled.

“That's all.”

He left.

Zielle sat quietly.

Her brother wasn't telling her what to do.

None of her family was.

They were simply giving her space to decide.

And perhaps that was exactly what she needed.

---

That evening, Clert was at home with his parents.

Beatrice was arranging flowers on the dining table when Clert entered.

She looked at him.

“You visited Zielle's house?”

Clert stopped.

“How did you know?”

“Your father told me.”

Marco looked up from his newspaper.

“I saw you leaving.”

Clert sighed.

“You two are too observant.”

Beatrice smiled.

“How is she?”

“She's good.”

“Did she let you upstairs?”

Clert nodded.

Beatrice's eyes widened slightly.

“She did?”

“Yes.”

Marco smiled.

“That means she trusts you a little.”

Clert immediately shook his head.

“Don't assume anything.”

His mother looked at him proudly.

“You've learned.”

“I have to.”

Beatrice's expression became thoughtful.

“Clert.”

“Yes?”

“If the time comes when you finally tell her everything…”

He looked at his mother.

“Don't make the truth sound like an excuse.”

Clert became quiet.

“I won't.”

“Tell her what happened.”

“I will.”

“Tell her what you were afraid of.”

“I will.”

“And tell her why you thought leaving was the only choice.”

Clert looked down.

“I will.”

Beatrice reached for his hand.

“But most importantly…”

Clert looked at her.

“Let her decide what to do with the truth.”

He nodded.

“I know.”

---

That night, Zielle stood alone on her balcony.

The lights of Batangas stretched into the distance.

Her house was quiet.

The flowers were still beside her.

She thought about Clert's visit.

The way he had sat at her dining table.

The way he had looked around her home.

The way he had said he was proud of her.

She touched the railing.

Then remembered something else.

The conversation between their mothers.

Mahaba pa ang panahon.

Maybe that was the reason she was beginning to feel less afraid.

She didn't have to decide today.

She didn't have to forgive today.

She didn't have to love him again today.

She could simply let things happen.

One day at a time.

One conversation at a time.

One flower at a time.

Her phone vibrated.

She looked at it.

Clert: Did you get some rest?

She smiled.

Zielle: Yes.

A few seconds later:

Clert: Good.

Then another message.

Clert: Good night, Zai—

The message disappeared.

He had deleted it.

Zielle stared at the screen.

A second later, another message arrived.

Clert: Sorry. Good night, Zielle.

She laughed softly.

For the first time, she didn't feel angry seeing the old nickname.

She actually missed it.

That realization frightened her.

She placed the phone against her chest.

“Hindi pa.”

She whispered.

“Hindi pa ako ready.”

But she was smiling.

---

Across town, Clert sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the conversation.

He had almost called her Zai.

Almost.

But he knew she wasn't ready.

He didn't want to take that name back from her before she gave it willingly.

His phone vibrated again.

He looked at the screen.

A new message from Zielle.

Zielle: Good night, Clert.

He smiled.

Then another message appeared.

Zielle: And thank you for dinner.

Clert stared at it for several seconds.

He didn't reply immediately.

He simply smiled.

Because tonight, something had changed.

Not enough to call it reconciliation.

Not enough to call it love.

But enough to know that the distance between them was becoming a little smaller.

---

The next morning, Zielle entered her law office.

On her desk was another envelope.

Not flowers this time.

She opened it.

Inside was a document.

A personal note was attached.

The revised relocation agreement.

Below it, written by hand:

“No rush. Review it whenever you're ready.”

Zielle smiled.

That sentence was becoming something she recognized.

Clert wasn't rushing her.

Not with the case.

Not with the flowers.

Not with their past.

Not with the truth.

He was simply there.

Waiting.

She placed the note beside her keyboard.

Then she looked upstairs.

At her home.

At the flowers.

At the life she had built.

For years, she had believed that being independent meant never needing anyone.

Now she was beginning to understand that independence didn't mean closing every door.

It simply meant choosing who was allowed to walk through them.

And for the first time in years—

Zielle wasn't completely sure she wanted Clert to stay outside.

She picked up the legal documents.

“Let's see what happens.”

Then she began to read.

Not knowing that the next stage of the Batangas agreement would bring both families closer together.

And with it, the truth Clert had carried for years would slowly begin finding its way toward her.

Because some distances were created by circumstances.

Some by fear.

And some by silence.

But if two people were patient enough—

perhaps even the longest distance could finally be crossed.