Dangerous Affair

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Message

—

We were all at the dinner table. For the first time in—I don't even know how long—we were having a meal together as a family.

Mama. Papa. Zoei. And me.

You'd think it would be a comforting sight. Like those picture-perfect dinners you see in movies, full of laughter, clinking glasses, and warm conversations.

But ours was anything but.

The only sounds were the clinking of cutlery against plates and the occasional scrape of a chair against the tiled floor. No laughter. No chatter. Just silence—heavy and awkward. The kind that fills the room like thick smoke, choking you even if no one notices you're struggling to breathe.

I kept my eyes down on my food, pushing the rice around my plate like I was drawing invisible shapes. My appetite was gone, but I knew better than to leave it untouched. Mama hated that.

Just ask, Zarina. Ask now. Before you lose your nerve again.

I cleared my throat softly.

"Ma..."

My voice barely broke the silence, but it was enough. Papa glanced up briefly, fork paused in midair. Zoei arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

Mama stopped chewing and turned her head slowly toward me. Her eyes were blank, unreadable. As always.

"What is it?" she asked, tone flat, as if I had interrupted something important. She didn't wait for my answer—just went back to chewing.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"I... I was wondering who's going to attend my graduation."

That made her pause. Just for a second. Then she reached for her water glass.

"When is your graduation again?" she asked, still not looking at me.

"It's still a few months away. But I just thought..."

"Well then," she said, setting her glass down. "Ask again when it's closer. Finish your food first."

That was it. No smile. No "Of course, sweetheart." Not even a simple congratulations in advance.

Just... "finish your food." Like my question had been as trivial as asking for extra salt.

I nodded slowly, keeping my head down so they wouldn't see the sting behind my eyes.

Across from me, Papa cleared his throat like he was going to say something—but he didn't. He just went back to eating, slower now. More carefully.

Zoei gave me a look—half-pity, half-smug—and stabbed a piece of salmon with her fork.

"Don't be so dramatic," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear.

I wanted to disappear. To melt into the chair and slip through the floorboards.

I tried again, this time quieter.

"It's just... it's kind of a big day for me."

No one responded.

Mama reached for the pepper. Zoei took a sip of her juice. Papa didn't look up.

The silence stretched again, longer this time. Heavier.

It's fine, I told myself. It's just dinner. Just another meal where I'm the outsider in my own family.

I clenched my hands in my lap, hiding the tremble in my fingers.

After a moment, Papa finally spoke.

"Let me check my schedule," he said gruffly, eyes still fixed on his plate.

It wasn't a promise. It was a vague maybe. The kind you say to keep the peace.

Still, I nodded. I was used to crumbs by now.

I finished my meal in silence, not because I was hungry, but because there was nothing else to do. No one was going to ask how my classes were going. They probably didn't even know.

And I knew better than to expect them to ask.

After dinner, I quietly stood up from the table. Umakyat na ako ng kwarto di na nag atubiling tawagin pa ako ng pamilya ko. Ganyan naman lagi eh. My existence is invisible to them.

Once inside my room, I closed the door and took a deep breath. My desk greeted me with its usual chaos—readings, notes, a blinking laptop waiting to be opened. I walked over without hesitation, turned on the lamp, and sat in my favorite chair.

There were papers to edit, finalize, and even start from scratch. But instead of feeling overwhelmed, I've trained myself to see everything as a process—not an enemy, but a challenge.

"Okay... priority is the Econ research paper, then Law and Development," I whispered to myself, scribbling my to-do list in my planner.

I've had my fair share of exhaustion, but giving up was never in my vocabulary. I don't talk about it often, but deep down, I know I'm an achiever—not just because I'm smart, but because I choose to work hard.

Sometimes I wonder: What if I had a dad who congratulated me when I got good grades? Or a mom who texted 'I'm proud of you' after every semester?

I smiled a little, twirling my pen in my fingers. "But it's okay," I said under my breath. "They support me in the way they know how. Maybe not emotionally—but at least they provide what I need for school."

I walked toward the window and looked out at the city lights. So many dreams down there. So many people fighting their own battles. And here I was—quiet, but still fighting.

"Economics today, Law tomorrow," I whispered, tapping my chest lightly. "I'm not studying just to pass. I'm doing this because I have somewhere I want to go. This isn't about recognition—it's about knowing my worth."

I returned to my desk, took a sip of water, and lit the small candle beside my laptop. Its scent filled the room softly as I opened my readings and started typing again.

No panic. No breakdown. Just steady hands and a focused mind. The work was plenty, yes—but tiredness is part of the dream, isn't it?

And if this is the road to becoming a lawyer, then I'll walk it—calm, steady, and determined.

Even if I have to walk it alone.

Natapos ko rin, kahit halos pumikit na ang mata ko sa antok. I saved the file, submitted it, then finally let my shoulders drop.

Wala man lang bumati ng "good job."

I stood up, stretching my arms overhead. My bones ached. My chest did too.

Naglakad ako papunta sa banyo. The tiles were cold under my feet, but I welcomed it. Alam kong kailangan ko 'to—ang init ng tubig, ang katahimikan, ang ritual na tanging ako lang ang nakakaintindi.

Binuksan ko ang gripo sa bathtub. I dropped in a lavender bath bomb and watched it fizz, releasing slow swirls of purple into the water. It smelled like peace.

Naghubad ako ng dahan-dahan, parang inaalis ko rin ang bigat ng araw mula sa katawan ko. I slipped into the tub, the warmth instantly calming me. My muscles relaxed, but my heart... it stayed tense.

Ganito na lang ba palagi?

Tahimik. Mag-isa.

I stared at the ceiling. It was cracked near the light. I memorized that c***k years ago. Pinangalanan ko pa nga—"Validation." Dahil kahit kailan, hindi ko 'yon nakuha sa kanila.

Pumikit ako. Huminga nang malalim. Pilit kong pinapakalma ang utak ko. Gusto ko lang ng kapayapaan. Just one night na walang bumabagabag sa isip ko.

Pero bigla kong narinig ang tunog ng notification.

Buzz.

I opened my eyes, confused. I didn't recognize the sound at first. My phone was on silent.

Tiningnan ko ang screen.

1 message received. Unknown Number.

I frowned. Sino naman 'to?

May kaba na agad sa dibdib ko. Pinunasan ko ang kamay at hinila ang phone mula sa towel rack.

Binuksan ko ang message. Simple lang.

"Zarina."

Just my name. Walang kasamang kahit ano. Walang tanong. Walang explanation. Just that.

Napaupo ako nang diretso sa bathtub. My breath caught.

""Who's this?"

Mabilis ang bawat tipa ng daliri ko sa phone. Hindi ko na inisip kung dapat ko pa bang replyan. Basta't gusto ko lang matapos 'to. Gusto kong malaman kung sino ang biglang sumulpot sa inbox ko habang pilit kong ninanamnam ang katahimikan ng gabi. Pagkatapos kong pindutin ang send, marahan kong ibinaba ang phone sa gilid ng bathtub at muling inihiga ang ulo sa malamig na edge.

Bago pa man ako tuluyang makalubog sa init ng tubig, tumunog ulit ang phone.

"Glad you text back."

Napakunot ang noo ko. Nagsisimula nang mabalisa ang isip ko. Hindi pa rin naka-save ang number. I tried to remember kung kanino ko ba posibleng ibinigay ang number ko. I'm not exactly the type na basta-basta nagbibigay. Hindi ako mahilig makipag-usap. Hindi ako mahilig makipagkilala.

Tumipa ako.

"Sino ka ba?"

Mabilis ang reply. Halatang hindi siya nagdalawang-isip.

"It's Solomon."

Solomon.

Nanlaki nang bahagya ang mga mata ko. Hindi ko inaasahan 'yon. For a few seconds, nakatitig lang ako sa screen ng phone. Para bang iniisip kung totoo ba 'to o baka may ibang nagbibiro lang. Pero hindi, kilala ko ang paraan ng pag-type niya. Masyadong diretso. Masyadong simple. Walang emojis. Walang unnecessary punctuation. Parang siya.

I swallowed, then typed.

"Bakit ka nag-text?"

May ilang minuto ang lumipas bago siya sumagot. Baka nagdadalawang-isip siya. Baka naghahanap ng tamang salita.

"I just wanted to talk."

"At kailangan mong gawin 'yon sa ganitong oras?"

"I wasn't sure if you'd reply. I've been thinking about messaging you for days."

Napapikit ako. Hinilot ang sentido ko habang bahagyang humahalo sa tubig ang mga buhok kong basa. This is weird. Why now? What does he want?

"And now that I replied?"

"I want to see you."

Napasinghap ako.

Hindi ko alam kung ano'ng sagot ang dapat isulat. Napatingin lang ako sa screen, tahimik. Parang binilisan bigla ng puso ko ang pagtibok—hindi dahil kinikilig ako. Hindi rin dahil galit ako. Kundi dahil hindi ko inaasahan na magiging ganito ka-direct ang approach niya.

I typed slower this time.

"For what?"

"To talk. In person. Not like this."

"Wala naman tayong kailangang pag-usapan."

"I think we do."

Hindi ko alam kung saan siya humuhugot ng tapang. Ako ba ang iniwas sa kanya, o siya ang sadyang lumapit? Hindi ko alam. Lahat ng ito, gulo.

"Hindi tayo close, Solomon."

"We could be."

I froze.

Parang may humigpit na something sa dibdib ko. Muli kong binasa ang message. Tapos binasa ko ulit.

We could be.

May halong kaba. May halong curiosity. May halong pag-iwas na gusto ko sanang ituloy, pero parang huli na.

Tumagal bago ako muling tumugon. Binura ko ang unang tatlong mensaheng sinubukan kong i-type.

Hanggang sa ito ang naipadala ko:

"Ano bang gusto mo sa'kin?"

Matagal siyang hindi sumagot.

Naibalik ko na ang ulo ko sa edge ng tub. Nakatingala ako sa kisame. Pinipilit maging kalmado. Umiinit ang katawan ko sa tubig, pero nanlalamig ang palad ko. Hindi ko alam kung gusto ko pa ba ng sagot.

Hanggang sa tumunog ulit ang phone.

"I don't know yet. But I want to find out."

Hindi ako sigurado kung dapat ba akong matakot, mainis, o mapangiti.

At iyon ang mas nakakainis—na hindi ko alam.

"Di ba dapat iniiwasan mo siya? Girl, nasan na yung tapang mo? Nasan na yun, stay away from me mo?"

Para akong siraulong pinapagalitan ang sarili ko.

I admit it—Solomon is physically attractive. Annoyingly so. His face is the kind that makes people stare, and I hate that I'm one of them. That annoyingly perfect nose, those stupidly intense eyes that seem to always be watching, calculating. Even his lips—like they were sculpted just to make girls forget how to think—are unfair. Every detail of his face screams effortless perfection, like he was born to be admired, worshipped even. And of course, he's tall. Of course, he moves like the world owes him space and everyone's attention. He's every woman's dream, and that's exactly the problem. Men like him? They're trouble wrapped in charm—danger dressed in good genetics. I should know better. I do know better. But still... there he is, and here I am, noticing him.

Pilit kong winawaksi 'yung thought na I'm physically attracted to him. Wala naman kaming anything. Walang history, walang connection—just one stupid, accidental kiss na ayoko ngang alalahanin.

Girl, matagal na 'yon, bulong ng konsensyang masyadong mapagpatawad. Akala ko ba over ka na? Wala na 'yon, 'di ba?

Pero paano kung hindi pa? Paano kung kahit ilang ulit kong sabihing wala akong pake, nararamdaman ko pa rin 'yung presence niya every time he's near? Ang kulit kasi. Ang itsura niyang parang gawa sa checklist ng "ideal" pero nakakainis. Tall. Composed. 'Yung tipong tahimik pero may dating. At 'yung mga mata niya? Parang alam nila 'yung epekto niya sa'kin—at ginagamit pa niya 'yon.