The Timing Between Us

Terrified

Clara

My stomach dropped the moment I saw the screen.

Mom Calling.

And suddenly the warmth from moments ago disappeared completely.

Reig noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

“You okay?”

No.

Not even slightly.

But I still forced a smile before answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Clara.”

One word.

And immediately I knew something was wrong.

My mother only used that tone whenever she was trying very hard not to get angry.

“Where are you?” she asked sharply.

“Outside.”

“With who?”

I glanced at Reig instinctively.

He stood a few feet away now, hands inside his pockets, giving me space while still watching carefully.

“No one important,” I lied quietly.

My mother ignored that completely.

“Delete the page.”

My heartbeat stopped.

Cold panic crawled down my spine.

“What?”

“That art page of yours.”

My fingers tightened around my phone immediately.

How...

“How did you...”

“Your aunt saw it.”

Everything inside me sank.

Of course.

Of course it had to be a relative.

Filipino relatives moved faster than government agencies when it came to unwanted information.

“She sent it to me this morning,” my mother continued. “Your father hasn’t seen it yet.”

Yet.

The word felt like a threat.

“Mom...”

“Delete it immediately.”

My throat tightened.

“It’s just art.”

“And you stopped your studies for this?”

The disappointment in her voice hurt more than anger ever could.

Because a part of me still wanted her approval.

Pathetic.

“Mom, I’m earning from it.”

“As a hobby, Clara.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

There it was again.

That word.

Hobby.

Like the thing I loved most could never become real.

“Your father already talked to your engineering professor.”

My eyes widened.

“What?”

“We can process your re-enrollment immediately.”

The world around me blurred slightly.

No.

No no no.

“We already agreed on one year,” I said quickly. “I still have three months left.”

“That was before this nonsense.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“It’s not nonsense.”

“Clara.” My mother sighed heavily. “You’re twenty-two already. You cannot keep wasting time pretending drawing will give you a future.”

Pretending.

The word hit so hard I almost laughed.

Because she said it so easily.

Like the hours I spent drawing until my wrists hurt meant nothing.

Like the paintings people paid for didn’t exist.

Like the only version of success worth accepting was theirs.

“I’m not pretending,” I whispered weakly.

“Yes, you are.”

Silence.

I looked down at the pavement because suddenly looking anywhere else felt impossible.

“Your father already paid the necessary fees,” she continued. “You can return next month.”

Next month.

I swallowed hard.

“Mom…”

“Enough, Clara.”

Her tone softened slightly after that.

And somehow that made everything worse.

“We only want what’s best for you.”

There it was.

The sentence every Filipino child hears before giving up another piece of themselves.

“We’re doing this for your future.”

Future.

I almost wanted to ask

What future?

The one where I wake up miserable every day?

The one where I slowly lose myself trying to become someone they can proudly introduce to relatives?

But exhaustion settled into me instead.

Heavy.

Familiar.

Because arguing never changed anything.

Not really.

“I understand,” I whispered finally.

And immediately my mother sounded relieved.

“That’s good.”

I hated how quickly obedience made people happy.

“Delete the page today,” she reminded me gently. “You’ll thank us later.”

Then the call ended.

Just like that.

Like my life had already been decided somewhere else without me present.

For a few seconds, I only stood there staring at the dark phone screen.

Quiet.

Still.

Then suddenly...

I laughed.

A small broken sound escaped me before tears followed immediately after.

Because honestly?

What else was there to do?

Everything felt ridiculous.

Reig’s confession.

My feelings.

My dreams.

All of it crashing into reality so fast it made my chest ache.

I laughed again while wiping my face angrily.

“Clara.”

His voice sounded softer now.

Careful.

And somehow that kindness hurt more than anything.

“Sorry,” I muttered immediately. “This is embarrassing.”

But my voice cracked halfway through.

Great.

Fantastic.

Now I was crying in front of the boy I rejected less than ten minutes ago.

Wonderful.

“Rabbit.”

That nickname broke something inside me completely.

Because suddenly I was tired.

So tired.

Tired of disappointing everyone.

Tired of pretending I was okay.

Tired of feeling like my own life didn’t belong to me.

And before I realized it...

Reig pulled me into him gently.

Warmth surrounded me instantly.

Safe.

God.

He felt safe.

One of his hands rested carefully against the back of my head while the other held me against his chest.

And just like that...

I cried.

Not softly.

Not prettily.

I cried the way exhausted people do after holding too much inside for too long.

My fingers clutched the front of his shirt while tears soaked into the fabric.

“I’m trying,” I whispered brokenly. “I really am.”

Reig didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t tell me to calm down.

Didn’t feed me empty encouragements.

He just held me tighter.

And somehow that made me cry harder.

Because nobody had done that before.

Nobody had ever let me fall apart without immediately trying to fix me.

Minutes passed before my crying finally slowed.

Humiliation immediately followed after.

Oh God.

I pulled back quickly, wiping my face aggressively.

“I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “Oh my God. This is so humiliating.”

Reig looked down at me quietly.

His shirt was slightly wrinkled now from how tightly I grabbed it.

“There’s nothing embarrassing about crying.”

“There absolutely is.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You’re arguing while looking like a sad wet cat.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

Then accidentally laughed through the remaining tears.

Idiot.

Complete i***t.

But somehow the tension in my chest loosened slightly.

Only slightly.

I looked away quickly afterward.

Because suddenly I became painfully aware of reality again.

I had cried in his arms.

In public.

After rejecting him.

And worst of all?

A dangerous part of me didn’t want him to let go earlier.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again more quietly this time.

“For what?”

“For dragging you into my mess.”

Silence.

Then...

“You think caring about you feels like a burden to me?”

My throat tightened instantly.

I looked up slowly.

And unfortunately

Reig was already staring at me with that same calm certainty again.

The kind that scared me.

The kind that made me want to believe impossible things.

“Clara,” he said quietly, “look at me.”

I shouldn’t have.

I really shouldn’t have.

But I did anyway.

And the moment our eyes met, his hand lifted slowly toward my face.

Gentle.

Careful.

His thumb brushed against the corner of my eye, wiping away the remaining tear there.

My breath caught instantly.

Too close.

Again.

Everything with him always felt too close.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” he said softly.

My heartbeat stumbled.

“But I’m not going anywhere this time.”

And somehow...

That terrified me more than if he had.