Objection

Chapter Four

Bar @1951 was buzzing, bass thumping, glasses clinking, laughter spilling over the sound of someone drunkenly singing “Let It Go” at the corner table.

At a booth tucked away from the chaos sat Mariella, second-year Juris Doctor student, certified heartbroken woman on a mission. Around her sat her usual partners in crime, Nancy, Elliot, and Jasmine, the holy trinity of gossip, sarcasm, and bad decisions.

The table was chaos: fries, shot glasses, a half-eaten platter of sisig, and Mariella’s wounded pride scattered among it all.

Mariella slammed back another shot. “I can’t believe he cheated on me. Three years. Three years! I wasted my youth on a man who can’t even spell jurisprudence.”

Elliot sipped his mojito. “Jonas Fuente is the type of man who thinks foreplay is opening your casebook for you. You should’ve left him at orientation.”

Nancy raised her drink. “To men who don’t deserve women with working brains!”

They all clinked glasses.

Mariella sighed, voice thick with tipsy determination. “I need a plan. I can’t just let Jonas walk around campus like he didn’t commit emotional homicide.”

Jasmine gave her a patient look. “Mariella, revenge isn’t healthy.”

Mariella grinned, cheeks flushed. “I’m not going for healthy. I’m going for legendary.”

Elliot’s eyes lit up. “Yes, queen. Channel that rage. What’s the move?”

Mariella leaned forward, whispering like it was state secret. “I want him to see what he lost. I want him to realize that cheating on me was the dumbest thing he’s ever done. He needs to feel it, deep in his mediocre soul.”

Nancy nodded. “Okay, psychological warfare. Classic.”

Elliot twirled his straw dramatically. “All you need to do is get with someone way out of his league. Someone superior. The male ego can’t survive comparison.”

Mariella frowned. “Superior? Like who? Jesus Christ?”

Nancy’s lips curled into a smirk. “No. Like Paul Razon.”

Mariella blinked. “Again, who the hell is Paul Razon? You talk like he is someone famous,” as she rolled her eyes.

The entire table went silent. Elliot clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “You don’t know who Paul Marcus Razon is?”

Nancy gasped. “The San Beda Red Lion? Law prodigy? Walking testosterone case file?”

Jasmine laughed. “He’s the one who used to play for the Red Lions, power forward. And rumor says he was top of his class too.”

Elliot nodded vigorously. “Played alongside Alexander Almeda, who is also on track to graduate this year with him. Alexander and Paul were the faces of San Beda for years. Law genius. Athlete. Arrogant. Untouchable. Basically the Philippine version of Harvey Specter, but taller.”

Mariella raised an eyebrow. “Sounds exhausting.”

Nancy grinned. “You say that now, but wait till you see his pictures.”

She unlocked her phone, opened i********:, and pulled up @paulmarcusrazon. The man’s feed looked like it belonged in a magazine, half basketball nostalgia, half power-suit perfection. A photo of him in a red jersey. Another in court, sleeves rolled up, tie loose, that deadly serious expression on his face.

Mariella leaned closer.

Her brows knit together. “Okay,” she admitted slowly. “He’s… very attractive.”

Elliot laughed. “Girl, that’s not attractive. That’s divine architecture.”

Mariella tilted her head, studying the screen. “He also looks… untouchable. Like he only dates women who pronounce ‘meritocracy’ correctly.”

Nancy giggled. “Exactly! That’s part of the appeal, he’s unreachable. Like a scholarship you’ll never qualify for.”

Jasmine smiled softly. “Still, imagine if you ended up with someone like him. Jonas would implode.”

Elliot clapped his hands. “Not just Jonas. Half the insecure men at UE would short-circuit.”

Mariella rolled her eyes. “Okay, relax. I don’t even know this guy. He probably doesn’t even know people like us exist.”

Nancy suddenly gasped. “Wait. Oh my God. You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I saw him on Tinder.”

Elliot almost dropped his drink. “You what?!”

Nancy nodded vigorously. “I swear! Like a week ago. I was swiping for fun, and there he was, Paul Razon. Same face. Same photos. Same smirk that screams ‘I bill by the minute.’ I swiped right, of course, but we didn’t match.”

Elliot slapped the table. “Hold on, I saw that profile too! I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me!”

Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure it was real?”

Nancy hesitated. “Honestly? I don’t know. Could be a poser. Most of the pictures looked like they were lifted from his Instagram.”

Elliot nodded. “Yeah, people catfish all the time. There’s no way the Paul Marcus Razon needs Tinder. That man could date a senator’s daughter just by existing.”

Mariella laughed, shaking her head. “So you’re both out here thirsting over a fake Tinder profile? You two need Jesus and hobbies.”

Nancy groaned. “Hey, it could’ve been real!”

“Or,” Mariella said, smirking, “you’re both delusional. The guy probably doesn’t even know we exist. He’s out there arguing billion-peso cases while we’re here fighting over wi-fi signals.”

Elliot clinked his glass against hers. “Touché. We’re literally not in his tax bracket or moral jurisdiction.”

Jasmine chuckled. “Still, can you imagine? You, Mariella David, ending up with Paul Marcus Razon?”

Nancy sighed dreamily. “Jonas would explode. Like, spontaneous combustion level of ego death.”

Mariella smiled wryly, finishing her drink. “Please. That man lives in a different world. We should all touch grass and stop aiming for the moon.”

Elliot raised his glass. “To our delusions, may they keep us entertained.”

Nancy joined in. “And to the unreachable men we’ll never date!”

They all laughed, glasses clinking, their voices half-lost under the sound of the band playing in the background.

Mariella smiled, half bitter, half amused. “Seriously though, you’re all crazy. Someone like Paul Razon wouldn’t even glance in our direction.”

But as the laughter faded, the thought lingered.

Paul Marcus Razon.

The man who was too perfect, too distant, too unreal.

The man who’d probably never even know her name.

For now.