Chapter 4: Before the Bitterness (Flashback)
1335 Words
The old theater room on the top floor of the university’s Arts Building smelled like glue, paint, and old velvet curtains. Cleo stood barefoot on a blue tarp, splattered with silver paint, waving a cardboard sword in the air like a true Diwata.
“Behold! The mighty blade of... whatever this thing is supposed to be,” she declared dramatically.
Natasha laughed from the corner, where she was hot-gluing sequins to a faux armor plate. “That’s not Armas ni Amihan, girl. That’s karton ni Santa Claus.”
Kaia, sprawled on the floor with Crine beside her, was flipping through costume sketches. “We need hot warrior guys for this play,” she groaned. “Why are there so many props and zero testosterone?”
Natasha smirked. “The Bachelor boys are outside for ROTC drills. Maybe we should ‘accidentally’ ask them to help carry stuff later.”
Crine giggled. “Seriously, how are all three of them so ridiculously good-looking? I think the family name should be illegal.”
Cleo chuckled, tossing her sword onto the floor and wiping paint off her cheek with the hem of her shirt. “Bachelor by name, heartbreaker by nature.”
Just then, the door creaked open.
Leandro entered, confidently cool in his signature black jacket. “Ladies, meet our newest member. Fresh from engineering—but apparently he prefers drama over numbers.”
Behind him stepped Max.
He looked… completely out of place.
White polo. Black-rimmed glasses. Books hugged to his chest. His stance was stiff, unsure, but his eyes took everything in—especially Cleo.
Kaia leaned to Crine and whispered, “He’s kinda cute… in a lost kitten way.”
Then louder, she grinned, “You sure he’s not in the wrong club, kuya? Math club is two doors down.”
Crine stifled a laugh, and Natasha added, “Or chess. Definitely has pawn energy.”
Cleo raised a brow and joined in. “Aww, don’t tease him. Let’s give the man a paintbrush before he runs back to physics.”
She stepped forward, offering Max a hand with a warm, playful smile. “Hi. Welcome to chaos. I’m Cleo.”
Max blinked, caught off guard by the softness in her voice after the teasing. “Max,” he said quietly, shaking her hand. “I… uh… heard this club needed more backstage help.”
Cleo opened her mouth to respond—but her phone buzzed.
She checked the screen and froze for a second.
Kielo calling.
A smile slowly broke across her lips—uncontainable and giddy. She turned her back to the group as she answered in a lowered voice.
“Hey,” she said, biting her lip.
“Can you come over?” Kielo’s voice, deep and casual, buzzed through the line. “Just finished classes. I got something for you.”
Cleo’s cheeks flushed. “Now?”
“Yeah. Use the basement parking. You know the drill.”
Cleo turned back to the group, barely able to hide her excitement. “Guys, I need to go. Emergency… confidential thing.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You look like you just got asked to prom.”
“I didn’t!” Cleo said a little too quickly, grabbing her bag. “Don’t wait for me for merienda, okay? I’ll catch up later.”
Crine squinted at her, suspicion already blooming. “You’ve been acting weird lately. You sure you’re not secretly dating someone?”
Cleo blew her a kiss. “Only my grades.”
Kaia snorted. “Lies. But okay.”
She bolted toward the door, sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor, grinning like a fool.
She was in love.
And no one knew.
Outside, Cleo slid into her car, phone still in her hand, cheeks still warm. Kielo. The boy she chased—relentlessly, shamelessly, like he was the final page of a book she was dying to finish.
Everyone still thought she was courting him. And technically, she had been. She pursued him first. Made the first move. Took the first risk.
But last week, when he pulled her close on his couch and kissed her for the first time, everything changed.
He was hers now. Secret, thrilling, all-consuming.
As she drove off to his condo, Cleo never once imagined the ache that would grow from this beginning—the ache that would turn her sweetheart sour.
Cleo lay tangled in the soft cotton sheets of Kielo’s condo, the air still warm from the closeness they shared. Her skin glowed, flushed and bare beneath the blanket, her head resting on his chest as his fingers lazily brushed up and down her arm.
She felt safe here.
Loved.
Or at least, she wanted to believe that.
Every first she’d ever held on to—she gave it to him. Her first real kiss. Her first time. Her first I-love-you whispered into skin instead of air.
And as far as she was concerned, he’d be her last too.
“I’ve been thinking,” Cleo began, tracing slow, light circles on his bare shoulder. “Maybe it’s time we stop pretending.”
Kielo's chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. “Pretending what?”
“That you’re just a friend. That there’s nothing between us. I’m tired of hiding, Kielo.”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Cleo sat up slightly, brushing her hair from her face as she looked at him. “I get why we started like this. I get it. Rafa was with my brother. But they’re broken up now. We don’t have to tiptoe anymore. We could just… be together. Like normal couples.”
Kielo rubbed his temples, sitting up against the headboard, eyes away from hers. “Cleo…”
She froze.
That tone. That pause. That hesitation.
She hated it.
“Don’t ‘Cleo’ me. You said you loved me. So why are we still sneaking around like we’re doing something wrong?”
“I do love you,” he said, frustrated now. “But you don’t understand. My sister is not over your brother. If she finds out I’m dating his sister? It'll crush her.”
“She dumped him,” Cleo snapped. “What does that have to do with us?”
“She’s family.”
“And I’m not?”
His face hardened. “That’s not what I meant.”
Cleo’s voice cracked. “Then what do you mean, Kielo? Because I’m starting to feel like I’m not your girlfriend—I’m just your secret.”
He looked away.
That was answer enough.
The silence stretched painfully between them, and she felt something inside her begin to twist.
But she didn’t want to fight.
Not now. Not while the scent of him still lingered on her skin. Not when her heart still clung to the fantasy.
She swallowed down her tears and lowered her voice.
“Fine. Not now. But will you at least come to my play next week? Please? I’ve been working so hard. It’s a big thing for me, and I just…” Her voice faltered. “I want to look out into the crowd and know someone’s there who actually gives a damn.”
Kielo exhaled, rubbing his eyes like she was an exam question he couldn’t answer. “I have a prostho lecture that afternoon,” he muttered. “And a lab quiz the next day.”
Cleo's chest tightened. “So that’s a no?”
“I didn’t say that. I’ll try,” he replied, clearly agitated. “But I can’t promise anything, Cleo. You know how hectic dentistry gets.”
She nodded slowly.
Tried to smile.
Tried to accept “maybe” as if it were good enough.
“Okay,” she whispered, though the disappointment was already swallowing her from the inside out.
He kissed her forehead, pulled her back into his arms.
But Cleo didn’t melt like she usually did.
She just laid there, staring at the ceiling, wondering if maybe love wasn’t supposed to feel this lonely.
- Writer
