CHAPTER SIX
828 Words
It was almost midnight when Mira woke up thirsty.
She tiptoed out of her room, heading to the kitchen for water — but paused when she heard voices from the living room downstairs.
Her mom’s voice, soft but worried.
“Randy, baka naman si Lance nahihirapan talaga. He’s been quiet lately.”
Lance’s dad sighed. “He’s always been like that since the separation. Akala ko nung nagka-work na siya, okay na. Pero siguro, hindi pa rin siya sanay.”
“Sanay sa?”
“Sa may ibang kasama sa bahay,” Randy said gently. “He’s used to being alone with me. Now, bigla na namang may bago — new people, new routines.”
Mira froze halfway down the stairs.
So that’s why. Hindi pala siya bastos, hindi rin siya masama.
He was just... learning how to exist again.
She tiptoed back to her room quietly, the sound of their hushed voices fading behind her.
---
“Guys, please naman,” Mira groaned, staring at the half-empty Google doc on her laptop. “We’re presenting tomorrow!”
Her groupmates just shrugged through the call.
“Sorry, Mira. Ikaw na lang muna mag-lead. Promise, I’ll edit after,” said one.
The call ended.
Mira slumped on her chair. “Great. Ako na naman.”
Trixie messaged her right away.
>Trixie: Kaya mo ‘yan girl!! Coffee and playlist lang ‘yan.
Andre: Don’t overthink. Submit mo lang kahit simple, at least may maipasa.
She smiled tiredly. “Thanks, guys.”
Still, frustration bubbled up. She wanted to ask someone older, someone who’d been through this — but the only person she could think of was the one person least likely to help.
Lance.
She sighed, shaking her head. “As if.”
---
Past 11 p.m., Mira was still at the dining table, typing furiously. Papers everywhere, highlighters uncapped, coffee half-empty.
Then a voice startled her.
“Wala ka pang tulog?”
She looked up. Lance stood by the counter, holding a glass of water. Hair slightly messy, eyes tired but curious.
“Project,” Mira muttered. “Walang kwenta groupmates ko.”
He leaned on the counter. “Anong topic?”
“Organizational behavior,” she said. “Pero I think ako lang ‘yung behaving.”
A tiny smirk appeared on his face. “Show me.”
“What?”
“The report. Baka may matulungan ako.”
“Wait—tutulungan mo ako?” she asked, eyes wide.
He shrugged. “Bored lang ako. Don’t read too much into it.”
Mira handed him the laptop hesitantly. He sat across her, scrolling silently.
Then, in that calm, analytical tone of his, he began explaining structure, transitions, citations — all the things she didn’t even realize she’d missed.
She couldn’t help smiling. “You’re really good at this.”
“I did it for four years,” he said, still typing. “Walang magic diyan. Just logic and caffeine.”
“Noted,” she said. “So kung gusto kong maging smart, kailangan ko lang ng kape?”
“...and less talking.”
She laughed. “Wow, thanks for the encouragement.”
He looked up — and for a brief second, his eyes softened. “You’re doing fine, Mira.”
The words surprised her. Short, simple, but sincere.
---
When they finally finished, Mira stretched. “Finally! I can breathe again.”
“Good. Baka pati kapitbahay mo magreklamo sa stress mo,” Lance said dryly.
She laughed and stood. “Wait lang, gusto mo cake? Leftover from mom’s meeting.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Cake at midnight?”
“Therapy ‘yan,” she said, already taking two forks.
They ate quietly at the counter — the hum of the refrigerator the only sound.
It wasn’t awkward this time. Just... quiet. Comfortable.
“Bakit mo tinanggap ‘yung offer ng dad mo to let us move in?” Mira asked softly.
Lance paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “Honestly? I didn’t want to make him choose.”
She nodded slowly. “So you let him be happy.”
He glanced at her, something almost like respect flickering in his eyes. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Mira smiled faintly. “You know, for someone na laging suplado, you actually make sense sometimes.”
He gave her a side-eye. “Don’t push your luck.”
She giggled. “Fine.”
---
The next morning, Mira woke up groggy but oddly peaceful.
She trudged down the stairs — and stopped.
On the dining table sat her project, freshly printed and neatly bound.
On top was a sticky note in neat handwriting:
> Good luck. Don’t be late for class.
— Lance
Mira couldn’t help but smile.
For someone who once refused to even look at her, that little note meant more than he’d ever know.
She slipped it into her notebook before heading out, whispering to herself,
“Maybe we’ll be okay after all.”
- Writer
