The Problem with Enzo

Chapter 12: Back to Reality

Hers...

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• Wannabe – Spice Girls

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• Brave – Sara Bareilles

Three weeks after we got back from Cebu, life had slipped back into its rhythm. But that Saturday afternoon, I carved out time for the Bahite Gang.

Our usual spot was a tucked-away café on a quiet side street—one of those hidden gems that smelled of roasted beans and freshly baked pastries the moment you stepped in. Wooden tables gleamed under the soft glow of hanging lights, walls lined with books and little potted plants. The hum of conversation mixed with the low strum of acoustic music playing in the background. It always felt like stepping into a friend’s living room—warm, familiar, safe.

The moment I arrived, Pao was already holding court, animatedly talking about his new tenant.

“Grabe, mga Mars,” he said, waving his caramel latte like a scepter, “may nag-rent na naman sa unit ko. Ang pogi! As in tipong hindi ka papakainin buong araw para lang tumingin sa kanya.”

(“Guys, another tenant just moved into one of my units. He’s so handsome! The type who could make you forget to eat all day, just staring at him.”)

“Baka naman delulu ka lang, Pao,” Kaeli shot back, flipping her laminated planner open like a sword. “Remember the last time? Yung akala mong single, yun pala married with three kids.”

(“Maybe you’re just being delusional, Pao. Remember the last time? You thought he was single, but he was actually married with three kids.”)

The table erupted in laughter. Even Jem almost snorted her iced Americano out her nose.

Bhong leaned forward with a wicked grin. “Eh ikaw, Ana? Kamusta na? Any pogi neighbors or tenants you want to confess about?”

I sipped my coffee, hoping the foam could hide my face. “Ako? Wala. Busy sa work, busy sa anak.”

“Hmm.” Rica arched an eyebrow. “Busy sa anak… o busy kay Tito Enzo?”

That earned a chorus of gasps, cheers, and dramatic table-slapping.

“Hoy!” I protested, nearly spilling my latte. “Saan niyo nakuha ‘yan?” (“Hey! Where did you even get that idea?”)

“From Lia!” Sharmaine chimed in between giggles. “She told us last week na si Tito Enzo daw taught her how to do volleyball stance. Tapos kinikilig pa siya nung nagkuwento.” (“From Lia! She told us last week that Tito Enzo taught her how to do a volleyball stance. And she was even blushing while telling the story.”)

I groaned, covering my face with both hands. “Traitor yung anak ko.”

“Hindi naman siya ang traitor…” Pao sing-songed. “Ikaw ‘yung hindi nagku-kwento!” (“She’s not the traitor… you are, for not telling us anything!”)

They all leaned in closer, eyes sparkling, hungry for chismis.

“Wait lang ha,” Kaeli jumped in, her eyes narrowing at me. “Si Enzo ba ‘to? As in the same Enzo you ranted about before? Yung nag-offer sa’yo ng ten times your salary para sumama sa Cebu and Siargao?” (“Hold up—are we talking about the same Enzo you complained about before? The one who offered you ten times your salary just to go with them to Cebu and Siargao?”)

I threw my hands up. “Exactly! That one! Remember how insulted I was? Like hello, sino ba siya para bayaran ako ng gano’n?!” (“Exactly! That one! Remember how insulted I was? Like, hello, who is he to just pay me off like that?!”)

Pao clapped his hands together dramatically. “And yet, by fate and destiny, saan ka nag-end up? Cebu! As his personal driver pa, courtesy of your boss.”

The table exploded in laughter, Kaeli almost choking on her cold brew.

“Grabe, Ana,” Rica teased. “Kung teleserye ‘to, title na: From Insulto to Inlove.” (“Wow, Ana. If this were a TV drama, the title would be: From Insult to In Love.”)

“Hindi ah!” I protested, waving my straw at them. “Don’t get carried away. Wala ‘yon. And besides, he didn’t even ask for my number.”

“So spill, Ana,” Jem said, voice soft but insistent. “What really happened in Cebu? Did sparks fly under the stars, or are we just imagining?”

My heart skipped, remembering the sand, the sea, and his hand pressing into my back. For a second, the taste of salt and longing came rushing back. But I forced a laugh instead.

“Wala. As in nothing. You’re all imagining things.”

They groaned in unison, though I could see the disbelief painted across their faces.

“Fine,” Kaeli said with a smirk. “But don’t think we’ll stop asking. Tito Enzo is now officially on our watchlist.”

Before I could protest, Pao leaned forward, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Wait, important question. Naghalikan ba kayo?” (“Wait, important question. Did you two kiss?”)

“Yun na! Yes or no lang, Ana!” Bhong chimed in, wagging his brows like a telenovela villain. (“That’s it! Just yes or no, Ana!”)

Heat rushed to my cheeks before I could stop it. I looked down, fumbling with my cup, but it was too late.

“AYYYY! She’s blushing! She’s blushing!” Rica squealed, half-standing from her chair.

The whole table erupted—squeals, gasps, and exaggerated shrieks echoing through the café. Even Jem, usually the calmest, slapped the table and covered her mouth in mock shock.

“Confirmed!” Sharmaine declared, pointing dramatically at me. “Mga Mars, naghalikan sila sa Cebu!” (“Confirmed! Guys, they kissed in Cebu!”)

I buried my face in my hands, groaning. “Hindi kayo normal!” (“You’re all not normal!”)

“Normal naman kami…” Kaeli said between laughter, “…ikaw lang ang hindi normal kasi hindi mo kinwento agad!” (“We’re normal… you’re the one who’s not normal for not telling us right away!”)

The teasing rose to another round of giggles and shrieks, and though I kept insisting “wala ‘yon,” my traitor blush had already told them everything.

The teasing rose to another round of giggles and shrieks, and though I kept insisting “wala ‘yon,” my traitor blush had already told them everything.

I finally set my cup down and shook my head. “Okay fine, sige na. But listen—don’t get carried away. Kasi after all that, wala naman talaga. He never asked for my number, never asked for my socials. Nothing. Two weeks na, and not a single word.”

The table grew quieter, the laughter softening into something gentler. “And on the day na paalis na kami,” I added, staring into my coffee, “he was so… quiet. The entire despedida lunch, halos hindi nagsalita. Just… sitting there, watching. I thought maybe he’d say something, but he didn’t.”

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Bhong sighed dramatically, breaking the tension. “Kung ako ‘yon, hindi kita patatahimikin, Ana. As in everyday may memo ka from me—text, call, DM, lahat!” (“If that were me, Ana, I wouldn’t let you breathe. You’d be getting memos from me every day—texts, calls, DMs, everything!”)

The gang laughed again, but softer this time, throwing jokes to lighten the mood. I smiled and joined them, grateful for their noise, their love. But deep inside, I knew I was still carrying the silence Enzo left behind.