CHAPTER EIGHT
659 Words
The rain hadn’t stopped all night.
It drummed softly against the windows, a steady rhythm that filled the silence of the house.
Mira sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop closed, notes scattered around her. She should’ve felt exhausted after the long day — the nerves, the applause, the relief — but her mind kept wandering back to the car ride.
To the way Lance looked at her.
Not cold, not distant.
Just… there.
Her heart gave a quiet thump.
“Stop it,” she whispered to herself, burying her face in a pillow. “He’s your stepbrother. Stop being weird.”
A soft knock on the door made her jump.
l
“Mira?”
His voice.
She scrambled up, trying to look casual. “Uh—yeah?”
Lance opened the door just enough to peek in. He was wearing a plain gray hoodie, damp hair falling slightly over his forehead.
“Your mom said dinner’s ready,” he said.
“Oh. Okay, susunod na ako.”
He didn’t leave right away.
His eyes flicked to the open window beside her bed, where rain blew in lightly. “You’ll catch a cold,” he muttered, walking over to close it.
Mira blinked. “You don’t have to—”
Too late. He’d already leaned over, his sleeve brushing against her arm as he shut the window.
The brief contact sent an unexpected rush through her — warm, fast, confusing.
When he turned to face her again, she was still staring.
“What?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Wala,” she said quickly, looking away. “Just… thanks.”
He studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod before heading to the door. “Dinner. Bago pa lumamig.”
---
Downstairs, the dining table was already set — their parents’ laughter echoing from the kitchen as they prepared something together.
Mira sat across from Lance, who quietly ladled soup into his bowl. The air smelled of garlic and rain.
“So, how was work?” Alfred asked his son.
“Busy,” Lance said simply.
Her mom smiled. “And Mira had her big presentation today. Tinulungan siya ni Lance, diba?”
Mira’s eyes widened slightly. “Uh—just a little,” she said.
Lance looked up. “She didn’t need much help.”
It was such a simple sentence, but the way he said it — calm, sure, almost proud — made her heart stutter.
Their parents exchanged knowing smiles neither of them caught.
---
Later that night, Mira found herself standing outside Lance’s room, hesitant.
She lifted her hand to knock, then dropped it again.
Bakit kaba nandito? she scolded herself. You just want to say thank you. That’s it.
Before she could overthink further, the door opened.
Lance looked surprised. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just—uh, wanted to return this.” She held out the pen he’d lent her during her project.
He raised an eyebrow. “You came here… at 11 p.m. to return a pen?”
Mira flushed. “Okay fine, and to say thank you. For the note. And for… everything.”
He stared at her, unreadable as always — until the faintest smile tugged at his lips.
“You’re welcome.”
She hesitated at the doorway, heart thudding. “You know… you’re not as bad at this ‘living-with-people’ thing as you think.”
Lance leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “And you’re not as annoying as I thought.”
She grinned. “Wow. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
But there was laughter in his eyes — real, unguarded.
And for the first time since she’d moved in, Mira realized something had quietly changed between them.
It wasn’t just tolerance anymore.
It was… connection.
A fragile, unspoken something that lived in the space between every glance, every quiet night, every almost-smile.
- Writer
