CHAPTER FOUR
915 Words
The morning light poured through the kitchen windows, bright and a little too cheerful for Mira’s mood.
Her mom was humming, plating eggs and rice. “Anak, gisingin mo si Lance. Late na siya kung may pasok.”
“Ma, di ba graduate na siya?” Mira said, half-smiling. “Wala naman siyang homeroom bell.”
Rose chuckled. “Ewan ko, baka may lakad. Sige, kain ka na.”
A few minutes later, Lance appeared, hair still damp from a shower, expression unreadable. He went straight to the counter for coffee, not even glancing at Mira.
“Good morning,” Mira said softly.
He nodded once. “Morning.”
Silence.
Her mom tried to fill the gap. “Anak, how’s work?”
“Busy,” Lance said, short and polite. “May project akong tinatapos.”
Mira pushed her food around her plate. “Wow, ang early bird ng mga busy people.”
He glanced up, just for a second, then looked away. “Some of us have things to do.”
She smiled thinly. “Good for you.”
The table fell quiet again until Lance stood, rinsed his cup, and said flatly, “I’ll be out all day.”
When the door shut behind him, Mira sighed. “Ma, pagod na akong makipag-civil sa robot.”
Rose shook her head but smiled. “Anak, konting pasensiya pa. Hindi madaling mag-adjust.”
“Hindi rin madaling may kasama na ayaw sayo,” Mira muttered, but loud enough for only herself.
---
The university gates loomed wide and busy.
Mira took a deep breath, clutching her bag strap. Kaya ko ‘to, she thought. New start, new Mira.
Inside the classroom, she spotted an empty seat beside a girl with curly hair and a big smile.
“Hi! Baguhan ka, ‘no?” the girl said immediately. “I’m Trixie.”
“Mira,” she replied, smiling back. “First day ko today.”
“Nice! Don’t worry, mababait mga prof dito, minsan lang magpapabaliw.”
A guy at the next row looked over and grinned. “Depende kung anong subject.”
“Ah, eto si Andre,” Trixie introduced. “Mabait ‘yan, top student dati, pero tahimik. Parang si Kuya Frost.”
“Kuya Frost?” Mira asked.
“Nickname ng isang former student dito. Grabe raw ‘yung IQ, pero zero social skills. Parang ice cube,” Trixie said, laughing.
Mira froze. “Anong name niya?”
“Villareal, I think? Lance Villareal. Kilala ka?”
“Ah, no,” Mira said quickly, looking down. “Narinig ko lang ata dati.”
Andre raised a brow but said nothing.
---
By lunch, Trixie and Andre had officially adopted her.
They ate together sa mini cafeteria, trading stories about professors, horror quizzes, and crushes from the next building.
“So Mira,” Trixie said between bites, “anong course mo ulit?”
“Psych,” Mira replied. “Medyo mahilig akong magbasa ng isip.”
“Magbasa ng isip o magbasa ng tao?” Andre teased, smirking.
“Both,” she said, laughing.
The laughter felt good—easy, warm, normal.
For a moment, she forgot the tension at home.
Then Trixie’s phone pinged. “Uy, may alumni talk daw next week. Guess who’s one of the speakers?”
Andre leaned over. “Don’t tell me… si Villareal?”
“Yup! Si Mr. Ice Cube himself,” Trixie laughed. “Sana this time magsmile siya kahit konti.”
Mira’s stomach dropped. Of course. Hindi ako tatantanan ng universe.
---
By the time she got home, Mira was exhausted.
She found Lance sitting on the couch, laptop open, papers scattered. He barely looked up when she walked in.
“Ang aga mo,” she said lightly.
“Work from home,” he answered, eyes on the screen.
She tried to head upstairs, but his voice stopped her. “May nagsabi sa akin na nag-aaral ka sa St. Bernadette.”
Mira froze. “Yeah. Why?”
“That’s where I graduated,” he said flatly. “Just—don’t bring my name up there. Ayokong pinag-uusapan ‘yung personal life ko.”
She blinked. “Wow. Don’t worry, hindi ko naman planong ipagyabang na related tayo.”
“Good.”
His tone was calm, but every word felt like a push.
Mira crossed her arms. “You know, you make it sound like having me here is some kind of scandal.”
Lance finally looked at her, eyes cold but not angry. “It’s not a scandal. It’s just… unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary?” she repeated, voice rising. “Okay. Noted.”
She turned and went upstairs before her voice could shake.
---
That night, Mira couldn’t sleep. She heard soft voices from downstairs — Lance and his dad talking.
“Work’s been rough,” Lance was saying quietly. “I don’t know if I made the right call leaving the firm.”
“You’ll find your place, son,” his dad said gently. “You always do.”
There was a pause. Then a tired sigh. “I just don’t want things getting messier here, Dad.”
Mira stayed still, listening, unsure if “messier” meant her.
When she finally closed her eyes, she realized something she hadn’t before:
Lance wasn’t just cold—he was tired.
It didn’t excuse how he treated her. But for the first time, she wondered if maybe he was learning to adjust too—just like her.
- Writer
