Chapter 5
1160 Words
Friday came faster than expected.
Mikaela stared at her reflection in the mirror, fixing the last strand of hair into place. Her white blouse was crisp, buttoned perfectly up to the collar. Her navy slacks hugged her frame just right, professional but sharp. Her heels added two inches to her height — not that she needed it to feel taller today.
Today, she needed armor.
And this — this was hers.
Sa loob ng elevator paakyat sa executive floor, she kept her posture straight, shoulders back, chin slightly lifted. Pero kahit gaano siya ka composed sa labas, hindi niya maikakaila ang lamig sa dibdib niya. The kind that came with memories. The kind that crept in when you least expected it.
Brent.
He had always been the storm. Beautiful, devastating, and gone before the damage could be assessed.
Pagbukas ng elevator, tahimik ang paligid. No noise, no chatter. Parang lahat ng empleyado ay nawalan ng boses sa floor na ’to. The hallway leading to the boardroom stretched in front of her like a runway — o isang battlefield.
Every step she took echoed. Each one calculated. Firm.
You’re not that girl anymore, Mikaela.
When she reached the door, she knocked once. Clean. Controlled.
“Come in,” came the voice from the other side.
Hindi niya in-expect na may tumalon sa dibdib niya at humigpit ang hawak niya sa doorknob. She inhaled once — sharp and quiet — then opened the door.
There he was.
Seated at the head of the long conference table, Brent stood as soon as she entered. Just like he always used to do dati — nung sila pa. Parang muscle memory sa kanya ’yung pagtayo. Parang automatic.
“Mikaela,” he said, voice soft. Familiar. Too familiar.
She met his gaze but didn’t smile. “Sir,” she replied, formal, sharp, intentional.
He gestured to the seat across from him. “Thanks for agreeing to this.”
She walked calmly to the chair, sat down with a grace that was practiced. Her back straight, hands folded on the table, gaze steady.
“What is this meeting for, exactly?” she asked, tone clipped.
Brent looked at her, then leaned forward slightly, his fingers interlocking. “I wanted to talk. Really talk. I know I said sorry the other day, but it didn’t feel right just… leaving it there.”
Mikaela’s expression didn’t change. Her eyes stayed on him, but her jaw tightened ever so slightly.
“You think a conversation will fix what you broke?”
He didn’t flinch this time. Instead, he looked down briefly, then back at her. “No,” he admitted. “I just didn’t want to ignore what we had. Or what I did.”
A heavy silence settled between them.
“You have no idea what it took for me to put myself back together,” she said. Her voice was low, but each word carried weight. “You don’t know the nights I cried, thinking I did something wrong. The way I questioned everything about myself.”
Brent’s expression flickered — pain, maybe guilt.
“I was scared,” he said. “Of failing. Of dragging you down with me. My father’s company was crumbling, and I was being forced to leave the country. I thought disappearing would spare you.”
“Spare me?” Her voice cracked slightly at the edge. “You didn’t spare me. You destroyed me.”
He looked away. Swallowed hard.
“I wrote you letters,” she continued, her voice shaking now. “Emails. Messages. Calls. Lahat. Do you know how humiliating it was to keep hoping? Waiting for a reply that never came? Para akong tanga.”
“I read them,” he said quietly. “Every single one.”
Mikaela froze.
“I was in New York. Living in my uncle’s basement. Walang pera, walang direksyon. I didn’t reply because I didn’t know what to say. How do you explain running away?”
“Try,” she snapped. “Try explaining it now.”
Brent looked at her, really looked. “I was drowning, Mikaela. And I didn’t want you to drown with me. That’s the truth. I thought leaving was the only way to protect you.”
“Then maybe next time,” she said bitterly, “don’t fall in love with someone you’re just going to leave behind.”
A beat.
Neither of them moved.
“I don’t expect forgiveness,” Brent finally said. “But I needed to acknowledge the hurt. Your hurt. And I needed you to know… I never stopped thinking about you.”
Mikaela’s throat tightened. Stop it, she told herself. Don’t let him see you shake.
“You don’t get to romanticize this,” she said. “Hindi ito pelikula. Hindi ito love story. This is me, doing the work to rebuild what you shattered.”
“I know,” he said. “And I see that. You’ve changed. You’ve grown.”
“I had to,” she said. “I didn’t have the luxury of disappearing.”
Another silence.
“May partner na ako ngayon,” she said, lifting her chin. “Someone who stayed. Someone who didn’t disappear when things got hard.”
Brent’s face didn’t show much, but his eyes flickered. “Sino?"
She nodded. “Si Martin. He’s not perfect. But he’s honest. And he’s real. I don’t look at him and wonder if one day he’ll vanish without a word.”
“I’m not asking for a second chance,” he said, though something in his voice — in his eyes — said otherwise. “I just… I wanted to look you in the eye and tell you that I’m sorry. And that I remember everything. Every little thing.”
Mikaela stood. Her chair scraped back slightly, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
“Well, thank you for the apology,” she said, her voice smooth. “But I don’t need your memories.”
He looked up at her, eyes shadowed with regret.
“I’ve made peace with mine,” she finished.
Brent nodded, slow and steady. “Then I’ll respect that.”
She turned toward the door. Every step she took felt like lifting a thousand pounds, but she kept her back straight, head high. No falter. No glance backward.
But just as her hand touched the door handle, she heard him say — soft, almost like a breath:
“You were always stronger than I deserved.”
She paused.
Didn’t move. Didn’t respond.
Just breathed.
And then, with one final push, she opened the door and walked out.
Her heels echoed on the marble floor — click, click, click — steady as a drumbeat.
When she reached the elevator, her hand trembled as she pressed the button. She folded her arms across her chest, hugged herself tight.
But her chin stayed lifted.
Because this time, she got to walk away.
This time, she chose herself.
- Writer
