Chapter 16: Lines That Should Not Blur
1291 Words
The drive back to Tarlac felt unusually quiet.
Rain followed them along the highway, streaking silver across windows while distant fields disappeared beneath darkness.
Bella sat in the backseat scrolling through photographs and humming softly.
Matteo had driven separately.
Which meant—
unfortunately—
Gabriel and Lola occupied the front seats alone again.
Silence settled between them.
Not peaceful.
Not uncomfortable.
Only careful.
The restaurant conversation lingered too heavily to ignore.
Gabriel watched the rain.
And replayed her question.
What exactly do you want from me, Gabriel?
The problem was—
he still did not know how to answer.
Because wanting her company sounded too simple.
Wanting to understand her sounded too vulnerable.
And admitting that her absence already unsettled him—
that felt dangerous.
Beside him, Lola drove steadily.
Her expression remained unreadable.
But inwardly—
she was tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The growing tension between them had become impossible to dismiss.
And somehow—
that disappointed her.
Because she had hoped Gabriel might remain uncomplicated.
Arrogant perhaps.
Curious.
Temporary.
Instead—
he had become difficult.
And difficult men often reached dangerous intersections between desire and entitlement.
The memory of his hand on her wrist returned unexpectedly.
Not painful.
But remembered.
And memory, she knew, rarely vanished simply because forgiveness existed.
Bella eventually broke the silence.
“You both look tragic.”
Lola sighed.
“That sounds dramatic.”
“It’s observational.”
Gabriel nearly smiled.
Bella continued shamelessly,
“If this car carried more unresolved tension, it would qualify as hazardous cargo.”
“No one asked,” Lola said.
“Yet I persist.”
The rain softened.
Then Bella, apparently incapable of mercy, added—
“You know, Matteo likes you very much.”
Lola looked at the road.
“I’m aware.”
“He’s patient.”
Gabriel looked outside.
Very hard.
Bella continued.
“And kind.”
“I know.”
“And emotionally available.”
“Bella.”
“What?” she said innocently.
“I support healthy options.”
Gabriel exhaled quietly.
Healthy options.
Interesting phrase.
Because irrationally—
he disliked hearing Lola described as someone with options.
Ridiculous thought.
Entirely unreasonable.
And yet—
it stayed.
The estate welcomed them with midnight quiet.
Most lights had already dimmed while rain drifted softly through old acacia trees.
Bella escaped immediately toward the guest wing.
Coward.
Leaving Gabriel and Lola beneath the covered entrance.
The silence returned.
Heavy this time.
Lola adjusted her shawl.
“I should sleep.”
He looked at her.
And before logic intervened—
“I don’t like him.”
She paused.
Rain tapped softly beyond the veranda.
“Matteo?”
“You know who I mean.”
Interesting.
The honesty surprised her.
No games.
No disguise.
She studied him carefully.
“You don’t need to.”
His jaw tightened.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“And your dislike isn’t my responsibility.”
The words landed firmly.
Not cruel.
Only true.
He looked toward the rain.
“I know.”
But frustration still lingered.
Not with her.
Perhaps with himself.
Because jealousy felt beneath him.
And yet—
he could not deny it anymore.
“You trust him.”
There it was again.
The same observation.
The same wound beneath pride.
Lola looked toward the gardens.
“Yes.”
The answer arrived quietly.
And somehow—
it hurt more because she did not hesitate.
Gabriel’s expression sharpened.
“You trust him that easily?”
“No.”
Her gaze moved back to him.
“Trust isn’t easy for me.”
The remark softened something unexpectedly.
Then she added—
“But he’s never asked for something I didn’t freely offer.”
The words landed between them like careful warning.
Gabriel understood immediately.
And guilt surfaced.
The veranda.
Her wrist.
The disappointment in her eyes.
His voice lowered.
“You still think about that.”
She looked at him calmly.
“Yes.”
The honesty stripped away defensiveness.
And suddenly—
he hated himself a little.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Rain drifted between silence.
“I said I was sorry.”
“I know.”
“And it matters to me.”
“I know that too.”
The problem, he realized, was not apology.
It was consequence.
And perhaps—
trust once unsettled never returned unchanged.
Lola stepped toward the staircase.
But he spoke again.
“Why him?”
She stopped.
The question sounded quieter now.
Not possessive.
Only painfully honest.
“Why does Matteo feel safer?”
The word lingered.
Safer.
Interesting choice.
Lola looked at him.
And for a second—
she almost answered fully.
Because the truth was not romance.
Not preference.
Not even attraction.
Safety, she had learned across lives, was not excitement.
It was consistency.
Kindness.
Respect for boundaries.
So she said softly—
“Because he doesn’t make me defend my peace.”
The words struck harder than anger would have.
Gabriel stood very still.
Rain filled the silence.
And suddenly—
he understood something he had been avoiding.
This was no longer about Matteo.
No.
This was about the uncomfortable realization that Lola had begun associating him not with comfort—
but with caution.
The thought unsettled him deeply.
She looked at him a moment longer.
Then quietly—
“Goodnight, Gabriel.”
And walked upstairs.
Leaving him beneath rain-shadowed lantern light.
Alone.
Sleep avoided him again.
Near one in the morning, Gabriel wandered toward the western veranda carrying untouched whiskey.
The estate looked ghostly beneath rain.
And his thoughts—
worse.
He replayed everything.
The restaurant.
The jealousy.
Her saying:
He doesn’t make me defend my peace.
Damn.
The truth of it felt unbearable.
Because he had never intended to become someone she guarded herself against.
He leaned against the railing.
And unexpectedly—
heard footsteps.
Alejandro.
His father approached carrying coffee.
“You brood loudly.”
Gabriel almost smiled.
“That sentence makes no sense.”
“It does when you’re my son.”
Silence followed.
Then Alejandro said—
“You care about her.”
Straightforward.
Infuriating.
Gabriel looked toward the gardens.
“It’s complicated.”
“No.”
His father sipped coffee.
“You complicated it.”
The remark stung.
Good.
Perhaps it should.
Alejandro studied him carefully.
“I know that look.”
“What look?”
“The one men wear when pride discovers fear.”
Gabriel remained silent.
Because unfortunately—
his father was close to truth.
Alejandro’s voice softened.
“Lola has lived carefully.”
The words caught his attention.
“You speak as though she survived something.”
His father looked toward the rain.
“People survive many things.”
Interesting answer.
Too interesting.
Before Gabriel could ask further—
Alejandro added quietly—
“If you care for her, learn the difference between wanting closeness and demanding it.”
The words lingered heavily.
And somehow—
Gabriel knew his father was not merely giving advice.
He was warning him.
Upstairs, Lola stood by her bedroom window unable to sleep.
Rain silvered the gardens below.
And despite herself—
she thought about Gabriel.
Not romantically.
Not foolishly.
Only honestly.
Because beneath jealousy and pride—
she had seen something tonight she had not expected.
Regret.
And perhaps confusion.
Dangerous combination.
A memory surfaced.
Another century.
A man once apologized beautifully before repeating harm anyway.
She closed her eyes.
No.
She would not ignore warning signs for chemistry.
Not again.
Not in this life.
And yet—
standing by the rain-lit window—
she admitted something reluctantly.
The disappointment she felt toward Gabriel existed only because somewhere along the way—
she had begun hoping for better from him.
The realization unsettled her.
Because hope—
she knew too well—
was where storms usually began.
- Writer
