Chapter 4
1143 Words
Pagkarating sa bahay, hindi pa rin mapakali si Mikaela.
She dumped her bag on the couch, kicked off her heels, at diretso sa kusina para kumuha ng malamig na tubig. But even the cold glass pressed against her lips couldn’t wash away the heat rising in her chest. Hindi dahil sa init ng panahon. Hindi dahil sa pagod.
Dahil kay Brent.
“Put*ngina talaga,” she muttered, slamming the glass down a bit harder than necessary sa kitchen counter. “Of all people…”
For years, she made sure she’d never cross paths with him again. She stayed away from social circles they both used to be part of, declined invitations, even changed her route going home noon kapag may chance siyang makita siya. She crafted her entire life — every choice, every boundary — para lang hindi na niya makita ang taong ‘yon.
And yet, here they were.
He walked into her life again like he owned the damn place — and well, technically, now he did.
“CEO,” she scoffed under her breath. “Of course he’d come back successful. Of course he’d look even more polished, more confident, more… ugh.”
She hated the way her chest reacted at the sight of him — the way her heart betrayed her with that single stutter, like some muscle memory she couldn't erase. She hated the way his voice still lingered in her ears, smooth and low, like a song she used to love but now couldn’t stand hearing.
At higit sa lahat, she hated that after all these years, just one look from him could make her unravel like this.
“Hindi pa rin siya deserving,” she told herself as she paced her small apartment. “Hindi pa rin sapat ‘yung sorry niya. After everything? After what he did?”
She remembered the nights she cried herself to sleep, waiting for a message, a call, kahit isang simpleng ‘sorry’. Pero wala. Brent left her when she needed him most, vanishing without a word. No closure. No goodbye. Just silence.
And now he comes back with a perfectly pressed suit, a rehearsed speech, and one damn apology?
Mikaela clenched her fists.
“You don’t get to walk back in like nothing happened. You don’t get to act like we’re some chapter you can just reopen.”
Her phone buzzed.
Martin.
Hey, you okay? Want me to bring food?
She stared at the message for a long moment, guilt twisting inside her. Martin. The one who stayed. The one who loved her quietly, patiently, without grand gestures but with a constancy Brent never managed to give.
No, it's okay. I just need to rest. Thanks, love.
She hit send, then put the phone face-down on the table.
It wasn’t Martin’s fault. He didn’t deserve the emotional hurricane she was caught in. But how could she explain that seeing Brent again felt like a wound reopening — one she thought had healed but clearly hadn't?
She walked toward the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the hot water scald her skin. Maybe if she scrubbed hard enough, she could wash off the feeling of today. The discomfort. The rage.
But the thing about anger — especially the kind you buried deep — is that it doesn’t just wash away.
As she stood under the spray, her thoughts drifted back to the way Brent looked at her. Hindi ‘yun tingin ng isang taong nakalimot. It was familiar. Heavy. As if he was searching for something — or maybe someone — he lost.
"Putangina mo talaga, Brent," she whispered, her voice cracking. “Bakit ngayon pa?”
The next morning, she tried to act like everything was normal.
Nagblow-dry siya ng buhok, naglagay ng light makeup, and wore her most neutral expression. She couldn’t afford to look shaken. She had a reputation in the office — composed, efficient, dependable.
Hindi puwedeng masira ‘yon ngayon. Lalo na ngayong siya na ang boss.
Pagpasok sa opisina, she kept her head down and focused on her screen. Chinky was already by her desk, sipping iced coffee.
“Girl,” bulong nito, excited. “May memo agad si Sir Brent. May town hall next week, tapos magkakaroon daw ng restructuring. Grabe, ang bilis ng mga galawan. Sabi ni Sir David, gusto raw ni CEO makilala ang lahat. One-on-one daw with each department head and senior support staff. Ikaw ‘yun, ‘di ba?”
Mikaela’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Yeah! Ikaw raw this Friday. May email from his office kanina. Nakita ko sa shared calendar.”
She forced a nod, pero para siyang binuhusan ng malamig na tubig. One-on-one? With Brent?
No.
No. No. No.
She checked her email, and sure enough — there it was.
From: Office of the CEO
Subject: Scheduled One-on-One Meeting
Dear Ms. Mikaela Salvador,
Mr. Philips would like to schedule a brief one-on-one meeting this Friday at 3:00 PM in the Executive Boardroom. Kindly confirm your availability.
Her stomach churned.
Why did he want to see her again? What else was there to say?
Naiinis siya. Galit. And the more she thought about it, the more the resentment she'd kept buried for years started clawing its way to the surface.
You left me.
You didn’t explain.
You didn’t even say goodbye.
And now, you’re asking for my time?
She didn’t confirm the invite. Not yet. She couldn’t. Because even just thinking about being alone in a room with Brent again made her feel like the floor was shifting beneath her feet.
Thursday night.
She still hadn’t replied.
She sat on her bed, laptop open, the email blinking back at her. Confirm or decline — simple options, but neither felt right.
She opened an old journal from three years ago — the one she only wrote in during sleepless nights. And there it was, written in messy ink:
I hate him. I hate that I still wonder if he ever regretted leaving. I hate that no matter how strong I try to be, some days, I still miss the way he used to hold my hand like I was the only thing that mattered.
Mikaela closed the journal slowly.
She wasn’t that girl anymore. She had built herself up again. Piece by painful piece. And Brent didn’t get to bulldoze his way back into her life just because he felt like it.
She hit Reply on the email.
Subject: Re: Scheduled One-on-One Meeting
Dear Ms. Jimenez,
Noted on the meeting request. I will be available on Friday at 3:00 PM.
Regards,
Mikaela Salvador
Send.
She shut the laptop and lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. If Brent wanted to talk — really talk — then fine.
But she wasn’t the same woman he left behind.
And she wasn’t afraid of him anymore.
- Writer
