A LOVE WE LEFT BEHIND

Chapter 6 — The Agreement We Were Not Ready For

A love we left behind

Chapter 6 — The Agreement We Were Not Ready For

The morning sun had barely risen over Batangas when Zielle arrived at the temporary conference room prepared for the relocation negotiations.

She had been awake since five in the morning.

Not because she was nervous about the meeting.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

The truth was, she had spent almost an hour staring at the ceiling after waking up from a dream she couldn't fully remember.

There had been a younger version of herself in it.

A little girl.

A school uniform.

A boy standing beside a gate.

And a voice saying—

“I'll come back, Zai.”

She couldn't remember whether Clert had actually said those words.

Or whether her mind had created them because she needed them to exist.

Zielle hated dreams like that.

They made the past feel closer than it really was.

She placed her folder on the conference table.

“Focus.”

She opened the documents.

The case came first.

The residents came first.

Everything else could wait.

One by one, representatives of the affected households began arriving.

Mang Tomas was among the first.

“Good morning, Attorney.”

“Good morning po.”

“Maaga kayo.”

“Hindi ako mapakali,” he admitted. “Malaking bagay po ito sa amin.”

Zielle gave him a reassuring smile.

“That's why we're here. We need everything documented properly before anyone agrees to anything.”

Mang Tomas nodded.

“Basta, Attorney, hindi naman po kami against sa hotel.”

“I know.”

“Alam namin malaking development iyon para sa Batangas.”

“And that's important,” Zielle said. “Hindi naman natin kailangang gawing parang business versus residents. The company can continue its project, but the people affected by it must also be protected.”

Mang Tomas smiled.

“Ganoon naman po ang gusto namin.”

Zielle nodded.

“That is exactly what we're going to fight for.”

---

Thirty minutes later, the doors opened.

Clert entered with Olcen and several members of the company's legal and development team.

Zielle immediately noticed him.

She hated that she still did.

Even in a room full of people, her eyes somehow found him first.

Clert wore a dark suit, his expression serious and professional.

But when his eyes met hers, something softened.

Only for a second.

Then he looked away.

“Good morning,” he said to everyone.

“Good morning,” the room answered.

Olcen took his seat beside Clert.

He leaned slightly toward him.

“Don't stare.”

Clert didn't look at him.

“I wasn't.”

“You were.”

“I wasn't.”

Olcen smiled.

“Okay.”

Clert glanced at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're smiling.”

“I'm just enjoying your suffering.”

Clert sighed.

“Olcen.”

“Yes, boss?”

“Work.”

“Yes, boss.”

Olcen opened his folder.

But his smile remained.

---

The meeting started with the proposed relocation plan.

A representative from the development team presented the initial site.

Zielle listened carefully.

The land was within Batangas.

It had access to the main road.

There was electricity.

Water installation was underway.

A school was within reasonable distance.

A small commercial area was also planned.

But Zielle wasn't satisfied.

She raised her hand.

The presenter stopped.

“Yes, Attorney?”

“The drainage.”

The representative looked at the document.

“What about it?”

“The drainage system shown here is based on projected rainfall levels. I want the actual engineering assessment, not the preliminary estimate.”

The representative hesitated.

Clert immediately spoke.

“Provide the full engineering report.”

“Sir?”

“All of it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Zielle looked at him.

Clert met her eyes.

“Anything else?”

She looked back at her papers.

“Yes.”

She pointed to the housing section.

“The proposed houses.”

“What about them?” Clert asked.

“Are these standardized?”

“Yes.”

“For all families?”

“Yes.”

Zielle shook her head.

“No.”

Clert leaned back.

“Why?”

“Because twenty households don't have the same needs.”

She turned toward the development team.

“May mga pamilya na six people. May iba na three. May matatanda. May mga bata. May small businesses attached to their homes.”

She pointed toward the proposal.

“You can't just build twenty identical houses and call it proper relocation.”

Clert nodded slowly.

“I agree.”

The room became quiet.

Zielle looked at him.

“You agree?”

“Yes.”

He turned toward his team.

“Revise the housing plans.”

One of the executives looked surprised.

“Sir, that could increase the cost.”

Clert didn't hesitate.

“Then increase the budget.”

The executive nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

Zielle stared at him.

She hadn't expected that answer.

Clert looked at her.

“The goal is to relocate them properly, isn't it?”

Zielle swallowed.

“Yes.”

“Then let's do it properly.”

She looked down at her papers.

“Okay.”

That single word was quiet.

But Clert heard it.

And for him, it was enough.

---

After almost two hours, the meeting reached the livelihood assistance section.

Zielle pushed another document forward.

“This needs clarification.”

Olcen took the document.

“Which part?”

“Temporary livelihood support.”

Olcen read it.

“The company will provide financial assistance for six months.”

“That's not enough.”

Clert looked at her.

“Why?”

“Because relocation doesn't mean people immediately recover.”

She turned toward the residents.

“Some of them have sari-sari stores. Some work from home. Some depend on customers passing through their current location.”

She looked back at Clert.

“When you move them, you don't just move their houses. You move their income.”

Clert nodded.

“Then make it twelve months.”

Zielle stopped.

Olcen looked at Clert.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“That's a substantial increase.”

“I know.”

Clert looked toward the residents.

“If we're asking them to rebuild their lives, we should give them enough time to do it.”

Zielle was silent.

For the first time that morning, she looked at him not as the opposing party.

But as the boy she remembered.

The boy who had always been gentle.

The boy who had once shared his lunch with her because she forgot hers.

The boy who would wait outside her classroom when it rained.

The boy who had once held her hand and promised her things she thought would last forever.

She immediately looked away.

No.

She couldn't let herself go there.

Not now.

---

During the lunch break, the residents gathered outside.

Zielle stayed behind to review the documents.

She didn't notice Clert standing near the doorway.

He watched her quietly.

She had a habit.

She always worked through lunch.

Even when she was younger, she would become so absorbed in something that she forgot to eat.

Clert walked toward the table.

He placed a small paper bag beside her.

Zielle looked up.

“What is that?”

“Lunch.”

“I already ate.”

Clert raised an eyebrow.

“You didn't.”

“I did.”

“When?”

She paused.

“This morning.”

“That doesn't count.”

Zielle stared at him.

“You still remember?”

Clert smiled slightly.

“I remember a lot of things.”

Her expression changed.

“Don't.”

The smile disappeared from his face.

“Okay.”

He stepped back.

Zielle looked at the bag.

“What did you buy?”

“Nothing complicated.”

She opened it.

Rice.

Grilled chicken.

Vegetables.

And a small bottle of water.

She stared at the food.

“You remembered.”

Clert nodded.

“You used to hate eating anything too oily.”

She looked at him.

“And you remember that too?”

“Yes.”

There was something painful about how easily he answered.

Zielle closed the bag.

“You shouldn't remember things like that.”

“Why?”

“Because they're not yours anymore.”

Clert's face became serious.

“Maybe they never stopped being mine.”

Zielle looked at him sharply.

He immediately corrected himself.

“Sorry.”

She looked away.

Clert took a step back.

“I won't bother you.”

He left.

Zielle remained still.

After a few seconds, she opened the bag again.

She took a bite.

It tasted exactly like the food she used to order.

She hated that.

She hated that he still remembered.

And even more—

she hated that she still liked it.

---

Outside, Olcen was waiting.

He looked at Clert.

“She ate?”

“I don't know.”

“You didn't stay?”

“No.”

Olcen nodded.

“Good.”

Clert frowned.

“What?”

“You're finally learning.”

Clert gave him a look.

Olcen shrugged.

“Before, you'd chase her.”

“I never chased her.”

“You practically followed her around high school.”

“She was my girlfriend.”

“Exactly.”

Clert smiled faintly.

Olcen became quieter.

“Are you going to tell her?”

Clert's expression changed.

“Not yet.”

“Clert.”

“I know.”

“She deserves to know.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you waiting?”

Clert looked toward the conference room.

“Because if I tell her now, she'll think I'm trying to make her forgive me.”

Olcen didn't answer.

Clert continued.

“I don't want her forgiveness because she feels sorry for me.”

He took a breath.

“I want her to understand the truth when she's ready.”

Olcen looked at his friend.

“You've carried this for a long time.”

Clert smiled sadly.

“Too long.”

---

That evening, after the meeting ended, Zielle returned to her office.

The revised proposal was already in her email.

She opened it.

Every concern she had raised had been addressed.

Housing customization.

Drainage.

Road access.

School transportation.

Water supply.

Electricity.

Livelihood assistance.

Legal documentation.

Temporary accommodations.

Everything.

She leaned back.

Her phone vibrated.

A message from Clert.

Clert: I sent the revised proposal. Please review it when you have time.

She stared at the message.

Then another arrived.

Clert: And please eat dinner.

She smiled before she could stop herself.

She immediately frowned.

“Why am I smiling?”

She typed.

Zielle: I will review the documents.

She hesitated.

Then added:

Zielle: Thank you for the revisions.

She sent it.

A few seconds later, Clert replied.

Clert: You're welcome, Zielle.

She stared at his use of her name.

Not Zai.

Not the old nickname.

Just Zielle.

Respectful.

Careful.

For some reason, that hurt more.

---

That same night, the Del Rosso family gathered for dinner.

Marco noticed his son was quieter than usual.

“How did the negotiation go?”

“Good.”

“Any problems?”

“Not really.”

Beatrice smiled.

“Did you see Zielle?”

Clert nodded.

“Yes.”

“How is she?”

“Strong.”

Beatrice smiled.

“She always was.”

Clert looked at his mother.

“Mom.”

“Yes?”

“Did you really talk to her mother?”

Beatrice and Marco exchanged a glance.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“A long time ago.”

“About me?”

Beatrice sighed.

“Partly.”

Clert waited.

“What did she say?”

Beatrice looked at him.

“She said something I'll never forget.”

“What?”

“Mahaba pa ang panahon.”

Clert became quiet.

“Marami pang bagay ang mangyayari.”

He lowered his gaze.

“And?”

Beatrice smiled gently.

“Sinabi niya na baka isa rin itong pagsubok na kailangan ninyong pagdaanan.”

Clert looked toward his father.

“Did she hate me?”

“No,” Marco answered.

Clert looked surprised.

“She didn't?”

Marco shook his head.

“Your mother didn't either.”

Beatrice reached across the table.

“We were hurt. We were ashamed. But hatred?”

She shook her head.

“Never.”

Clert swallowed.

“I wish you had told me.”

Beatrice smiled sadly.

“You weren't ready then.”

“And now?”

“Now?”

She looked at her son.

“Now you have to decide what kind of man you want to be.”

Clert nodded.

“I know.”

“You cannot change what happened.”

“I know.”

“But you can change what happens next.”

Clert looked down.

His mother's words stayed with him.

---

Later that night, Clert went into his study.

He opened the bottom drawer of his desk.

Inside was a small box.

He hadn't opened it in years.

He hesitated before taking it out.

When he finally opened it, an old photograph was inside.

Two teenagers.

A girl smiling.

A boy standing beside her.

Zielle.

Clert.

He touched the photograph carefully.

On the back was handwriting.

“For Clert, so you won't forget me when you go.”

He closed his eyes.

He remembered that day.

He remembered the promise he had wanted to make.

He remembered the words he had been f*******n to say.

He remembered the phone call.

The decision.

The silence.

And the unbearable choice that had followed.

Clert closed the box.

Not yet.

He couldn't tell her yet.

Not because he wanted to hide the truth.

But because the truth was bigger than one explanation.

It involved people.

Promises.

Responsibilities.

And a decision he had made when he was still too young to understand how much pain it would cause.

He leaned back in his chair.

“I’m sorry, Zai.”

The room was silent.

Then his phone vibrated.

A message.

From Zielle.

Zielle: I reviewed the proposal. It's acceptable. We can discuss the remaining points tomorrow. Good night.

Clert stared at it.

Then smiled.

She had called the proposal acceptable.

She was still speaking to him.

She was still giving him a chance to work beside her.

Maybe not as the boy she once loved.

Maybe not yet.

But as someone she was slowly learning to trust again.

He typed carefully.

Clert: Good night, Zielle. See you tomorrow.

He put the phone down.

Then looked at the old photograph once more.

For years, he had believed that leaving her was the end of their story.

Now he was beginning to understand something.

Maybe leaving had only created the chapter they were finally brave enough to face.

And somewhere in another house, Zielle was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

She couldn't stop thinking about his parents.

About her mother.

About the words she had overheard.

Mahaba pa ang panahon.

She turned toward her bedside table.

The white roses Clert had sent that morning were there.

Still fresh.

Still beautiful.

She reached out and touched one petal.

“Why did you come back?”

She whispered the question to an empty room.

And for the first time, she wasn't asking why he had returned to Batangas.

She was asking why he had returned to her heart.

She closed her eyes.

Tomorrow, she would see him again.

Tomorrow, they would talk about contracts, relocation, legal documents, and responsibilities.

Tomorrow, she would be his opposing counsel again.

But tonight—

for just one quiet moment—

she allowed herself to remember the boy who once called her Zai.

And somewhere inside that memory was a girl who had never completely stopped waiting for him.