My Lover Is A Boss

Chapter 2

The rain was an absolute, relentless wall of noise as they stepped out from the shallow sanctuary of the bakery’s awning. Within three steps, whatever dry patches remained on Valen’s light-blue button-down shirt were completely obliterated. Riva, despite her best efforts to shield herself with her plastic expandable folder, felt the cold water penetrate the thin fabric of her corporate blouse. She shivered, her teeth instantly chattering as a gust of midnight wind swept down the narrow, poorly lit avenue.

“Let’s go this way,” Riva called out over the roar of the downpour, gesturing toward a narrow elevated concrete walkway that ran alongside a row of closed sari-sari stores.

Valen followed her closely, his long strides easily keeping pace with her hurried, unglamorous sloshing. He looked remarkably composed, walking with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets as if he were merely taking a casual evening stroll through a manicured park rather than navigating a flooded Manila side street at midnight.

“You know,” Valen shouted back, his rich baritone cutting through the sound of the rain with surprising clarity, “I usually pride myself on my sense of direction, but right now, every single one of these alleys looks exactly the same. It’s like a labyrinth designed specifically to trap out-of-towners.”

Riva glanced back over her shoulder, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite the cold. “Really? Well, this is Manila lifestyle. If you’re not used to it, you’ll be lost. Especially with rain waters, the landmarks are mostly unreadable.” She stepped carefully over a floating plastic bottle, her unglued flats making a pathetic squelch sound with every step. “Where were you really going? Maybe you simply got lost? Tired?”

“Honestly? I’m not entirely sure,” Valen replied smoothly. He didn't sound panicked; his voice carried the casual, slightly embarrassed tone of a guy who had simply lost track of time and mileage. “I just remember getting on the road to clear my head. Work stuff, you know? The next thing I knew, my tire blew out, my phone went black, and I was staring at a convenience store sign. I didn't even realize how far I’d driven until I looked around and realized I didn't recognize a single landmark.”

Riva nodded, accepting the explanation without a second thought. It made sense. Plenty of people from wealthy enclaves or distant provinces took long, aimless drives when they were stressed. Looking at the sheer quality of his clothes and the sharp, aristocratic lines of his profile, she pegged him as a corporate hotshot from Makati or BGC who had simply pushed himself too hard.

They turned into a narrower street, where the water was shallower but the shadows were deeper. A single, rusted tricycle came puttering past them, its headlights cutting weakly through the heavy mist. The driver threw them a curious look but didn't slow down.

“So, Riva,” Valen said, stepping slightly closer to her to shield her from the splash of a passing puddle, “I have to ask. What is a girl like you doing out here at midnight, clutching a plastic folder like it’s a million-dollar lottery ticket?”

Riva let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh, tightening her grip on the folder. “This is worthy than a million. My resumes. I was job hunting, few interviews, then I went to a coffee shop, stayed there until online job portals closed. I am a fresh graduate and I find it difficult to land a job.”

Valen raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely intrigued. “A fresh graduate? What did you major in?”

“Marketing Management,” she replied, a hint of pride mixing with the exhaustion in her voice. “I actually graduated with flying colors, but there are a lot like me looking for a job. Vacant positions here are not just enough for us applicants.”

“Marketing? That’s brutal but rewarding if you find the right niche,” Valen said, his response immediate, full of a professional-sounding confidence that surfaced effortlessly. “Don't let the initial rejections get to you. The market is always saturated around graduation season. It’s a numbers game, really. You just need one company to see the value behind the credentials.”

Riva stopped for a brief second to adjust her slipping footwear, looking up at him through her wet bangs. “Wow. You sound just like a manager. I knew it—you really are from the corporate world, aren't you?”

“Something like that, I guess,” Valen said, giving a small, easy shrug. He gave an amused smile. “But right now, I’m just a guy who can’t even manage a flat tire. So, I think you’re the one holding all the cards tonight, Ms. Marketing Graduate.”

“Kidding me,” Riva teased, shaking her head as she resumed walking. “Oh, watch your step here—there’s a hole in the concrete.”

As they navigated the final stretch of the third block, the initial awkwardness between them began to melt away, replaced by the strange, accelerated intimacy that only a shared midnight crisis could bring. Riva found herself subtly observing him. He was incredibly polite—always ensuring he walked on the side closer to the road where the vehicles might splash water, and treating her with a quiet deference that felt entirely natural to him.

Her mind, fueled by the natural curiosity of a young woman who had spent the last four years focusing solely on academics, began to wander. A guy who looked like him, drove a car like that, and possessed such a charmingly calm demeanor couldn't possibly be single.

“Wait, sir Valen,” she began, trying to sound casual as they neared the rusted iron gates of her apartment compound.

“Just Valen.”

“Oh, Valen,” Riva was hesitant at first but shrugged it off anyway. “Could it be that you’re driving such a long distance to blow off steam after a fight with your girlfriend? I’d be in deep trouble if someone suddenly showed up at my apartment.”

Valen paused for a fraction of a second, looking thoughtful, but his face remained completely open. He smiled, a genuine, completely unforced look of amusement breaking across his handsome face. “A girlfriend? No. Definitely not. There’s no one waiting for me, and definitely no one who’s going to storm your apartment, Riva. I’m completely single.”

Riva felt a strange, entirely unbidden flutter in her chest at his answer. She cleared her throat quickly, turning her head away to hide the slight flush on her cheeks, grateful for the dark and the rain. “That’s good, then. Because if there were, I might just leave you right here on the road.”

“I promise you, you’re safe,” Valen chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But what about you? Is there a protective boyfriend waiting upstairs who’s going to challenge me to a duel for bringing his girlfriend home late?”

“Oh my, looking like this? I look like a drowned rat.” Riva laughed, gesturing to her drenched clothes and messy hair. “I don’t have time for that, Valen. Work comes first for me. Like I told you, I’m really struggling to find a job. A boyfriend can wait. Apartment rent can’t.”

“Spoken like a true pragmatist,” Valen said, his voice dropping to a softer, warmer register. “I respect that. Though, for what it’s worth, I don't think you look like a wet chicken at all. You look... remarkably resilient.”

Riva’s breath hitched slightly at the compliment. She wasn't used to this kind of smooth, unhurried flattery, especially not from someone who looked like he belonged on a corporate billboard. She quickly pointed toward a compound at the end of the alley, where a dim bulb illuminated a large, rusted iron gate.

“We’re finally here,” she announced, relief flooding her voice.

She stepped up to the gate and knocked loudly on the small metal pedestrian door. After a few agonizing moments of waiting under the downpour, a disgruntled older man wearing an oversized basketball jersey and a pair of worn-out slippers opened the door. It was Mang Danilo, her landlord.

“Oh, Riva, why are you only getting here now? You’re completely soaked—” Mang Danilo stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening into large saucers as he took in the tall, soaked, and undeniably wealthy-looking man standing right behind his tenant. “Who is he? Looks like a rich man.”

Riva quickly stepped inside the compound, pulling Valen along by the sleeve of his wet shirt. “Mang Danilo, this is Valen. His car broke down in front of the bakery up the road. He has a flat tire, and his phone is dead. Could we help him get it to Mang Isko’s repair shop tomorrow? He’ll be staying at my apartment for the meantime.”

Mang Danilo looked Valen up and down, sizing up the premium leather watch and the obvious luxury of his bearing. Valen offered a respectful nod. “Good evening, sir. Sorry for the trouble. I just need a place to charge my phone and wait out the storm. I’d be happy to pay for the inconvenience.”

The mention of payment instantly softened Mang Danilo’s grumpy disposition. “Alright, sure! No problem. Tomorrow morning, before seven o'clock, we’ll go see Isko to get your car. In the meantime, you two stay at Riva’s place upstairs. Come on, hurry up—you might get sick out there.”

“Salamat po, Mang Danilo,” Riva said.

She led Valen across the small, flooded courtyard and up a narrow, dimly lit concrete staircase that wound up to the third floor. The stairs were steep and slippery, and she had to hold onto the rusted railing with one hand while keeping her folder secure with the other.

When they finally reached the top, Riva pulled out a brass key from her pocket, her fingers shivering so hard it took her three attempts to align it with the lock. Valen stood quietly behind her, his large frame blocking the cold wind that was whipping through the open hallway.

With a soft click, the door swung open. Riva stepped inside and flicked a plastic switch on the wall. A single overhead fluorescent tube sputtered to life, casting a bright, clinical white light over the small, one-room studio apartment.

“Come in,” Riva said, stepping aside to let him in. “This place is small, okay? Just don't compare it to your house.”

Valen stepped through the threshold, wiping his wet shoes on a faded welcome mat. He looked around the clean, compact space, acting entirely unbothered by its modesty as he offered her an appreciative, comforting smile. To Riva, he simply looked like a grateful, polite gentleman who was relieved to finally find a dry sanctuary in the middle of a storm.