Chapter 3
1749 Words
Three weeks later – Manila, Philippines
Maaga pa lang gising na si Stine.
Nakatitig lang siya sa salamin habang naglalagay ng light makeup. May shoot siya mamaya para sa bagong campaign ng family brand nila — pero wala siya sa mood.
Madalas lately, wala siya sa mood.
Lalo na tuwing bigla na lang sumasagi sa isip niya ang mga nangyari sa New York.
At si Alaric.
Shit.
She almost said it out loud. Pero sa loob lang niya — tahimik, pero galit. Lalo na sa sarili.
Ilang gabi na siyang hindi makatulog ng maayos. She keeps replaying that night. The heat. The pain. The blood. The regret.
And how she ran away like a coward.
Bakit kasi ako bumigay?
Bakit siya pa?
Pinilit kong kalimutan. Tinapon ko lahat ng damit na suot ko noong gabi na ‘yon. Lahat.
Pero hindi ko matapon yung memorya.
Wala pang isang oras na lumilipas na hindi ko siya naiisip.
At kinaiinisan ko ‘yon.
Bigla siyang tinawag ng isang staff.
“Ma’am Stine, ready na po ‘yung car. Nasa baba na rin po sila Sir Theo, Sir Jace, at Sir Ram.”
Her friends. Her constants.
Tatlong lalaking best friend na kailanman ay hindi siya ginulo, pinilit, o ginamit.
Tatlong lalaking palaging nandoon.
At kahit close sila, wala ni isa sa kanila ang nakakaalam sa nangyari.
Because she didn’t tell anyone.
Not even her diary.
And maybe, she never will.
Same day – across the city, inside a corporate boardroom. Alaric sat at the head of the table, listening to a marketing pitch, pero wala talaga siya sa ulirat.
He nodded, acted like he cared, but in reality? His mind was 10,000 miles away — or maybe just three weeks back.
I’ve f*cked a lot of women.
Never once did I think about what happened after.
Until her.
Nasa harap niya ang laptop, pero hindi niya pinapansin.
Instead, ang laman ng utak niya ay kung paano siya hindi makatulog sa gabi dahil iniisip niya kung kamusta na si Stine.
Hindi niya na-contact. Hindi niya na-text. Hindi siya nagparamdam kahit minsan.
At hindi rin ito nagparamdam sa kanya.
Hindi niya alam kung saan siya mas nasasaktan — sa guilt, o sa deadma ni Stine.
After the meeting, lumabas siya para mag-yosi.
Tumawag si Eli — isa sa two closest friends niya.
“O, bro. Tingin mo ba babalik pa siya?”
Alaric didn’t answer. Just stared at the clouds habang unti-unting nauubos ang yosi.
“Three f*cking weeks, man,” Eli added. “Kung ibang babae ‘yan, nag-post na ng buong kwento sa TikTok.”
“Hindi siya ibang babae,” Alaric finally said. Tahimik. Mababa ang tono.
She’s not just a girl.
She’s Stine.
And I screwed it up.
Big time.
Habang nasa car papunta sa shoot, umupo si Theo sa tabi niya.
“Tara, coffee tayo after shoot?” tanong nito, cheerful as always.
“Sure,” she answered, smiling back.
Pero yung mata niya? Empty.
Ang isip niya? Wala sa ngayon.
Nasa isang hotel room pa rin sa New York.
Nasa kama. Kasama si Alaric.
“Mom, bakit kailangan pa talaga ‘tong dinner na ‘to?”
She was standing by the door of their walk-in closet, arms crossed, wearing a sleek beige midi dress — simple, elegant, corporate-chic.
Her mom looked at her reflection in the mirror while fixing her earrings.
“Anak, it's just dinner. Parang dati lang. You love the Ybañez, ‘di ba?”
Stine forced a smile. “Sure.”
Love the Ybañez… except one.
Alaric-f*cking Ybañez.
Her chest tightened at the thought of seeing him again. Three weeks of emotional damage just from one night — and now, here she was, being pushed back into the lion’s den.
She glanced at her phone. Still no message from him.
Not that I’m expecting any… right?
“Dude, paano kung nandun si Stine?” tanong ni Eli habang sinasara ni Alaric ang button ng polo niya.
“Then I’ll eat. Smile. And pretend like she doesn’t haunt my damn dreams every night,” Alaric muttered, brushing a hand through his hair.
He wasn’t ready to see her. Not after everything. Not after what he saw — the blood. The fear in her eyes. The way she ran.
But his parents were insistent.
“Family tradition ‘to, anak. Annual gathering, remember?” his mom had said.
Yeah. He remembered.
He also remembered f*cking up the one girl he wasn’t supposed to.
Later that Night – The Gathering
The venue was one of the Ybañez family’s private function halls — luxurious, understated, and overly intimate for what was supposed to be a “friendly dinner.”
Long table. Wine glasses. Candlelight.
Parang engagement dinner na walang engagement.
Stine arrived first, flanked by her parents.
She greeted everyone politely, even forced a laugh with Alaric’s dad. Until…
“Stine.”
Her body froze.
That voice.
She turned slowly.
There he was.
Sharp in a black button-down, eyes unreadable, smile slight — but her heart dropped to her stomach.
He looked the same.
Damn him for still looking this good.
“Alaric,” she said flatly.
No smile. No spark. Deadpan.
Their parents watched from a distance like proud matchmakers.
Dinner Begins
They were seated right beside each other. Of course.
Every time their arms brushed, a jolt ran down her spine.
Every time she reached for the wine, he’d look — quick, subtle, but always lingering.
She felt his presence the moment he entered. Even without looking.
Then… his scent.
That stupid cologne. Pucha, naalala ko tuloy ‘yung bedsheet sa hotel.
The table talk was loud and cheerful, but between them?
Dead silence.
Alaric leaned in, whispering just enough for her to hear.
“You didn’t have to run.”
Stine stiffened.
“You didn’t have to be an asshole,” she muttered, not looking at him.
“You think I planned that?” he hissed, voice low. “You think I knew?”
“Of course not. You were too busy treating me like just another notch,” she snapped, still not facing him.
He clenched his jaw.
“You think I forgot?” she added. “I didn’t. Every f*cking night, I remember.”
His hand twitched beside his wine glass.
“Me too,” he whispered.
They were surrounded by family, laughter, and warmth — but both sat in an emotional battlefield.
One secret.
One night.
And now, one dinner they couldn’t escape from.
She was glowing. Dressed in soft champagne silk, hair tied in a loose ponytail, exposing the delicate skin of her neck.
Neck he once kissed. Bit.
He swallowed hard.
Focus. Business dinner lang ‘to.
But the tension? Heavy. Suffocating.
Every brush of her arm against his sleeve made his chest tighten.
He tried to stay still. Unbothered. But then… she turned slightly to sip her wine.
Their eyes met.
And the flashback hit him like a freight train.
Flashback – New York, That Night
Soft whimpers. Her nails on his back.
Blood.
Her sharp gasp.
The way she looked up at him with confusion… then pain… then surrender.
Stine quickly looked away, cheeks flushing.
He caught that.
So did their parents.
“Oh, look at you two. Tahimik pero sweet,” Alaric’s mom teased.
Stine almost choked on her wine.
“No, tita, hindi lang po ako sanay sa ganito ka–”
“Ka-intimate,” Alaric cut in, finishing her sentence.
She shot him a glare.
He smirked.
Their knees touched under the table — briefly — but both pulled away as if burned.
Why does he still affect me?
I hate him.
I’m humiliated.
I gave him everything.
Worse… hindi ko alam kung may pakialam siya.
But his stare?
Every damn time I peeked, he was looking.
Hot. Intense. Regretful?
No. Can’t trust that.
Alaric POV
She’s trying to act cold.
But I saw her blush.
And that little tremble when I leaned in?
That wasn’t hate. That was memory.
Sh*t.
What the hell do I do now?
Table Conversation – Parents
“So how was New York, you two?” tanong ng mom ni Stine, innocently.
Kill me now, Stine thought.
Alaric raised a brow. “Eventful,” he said, with a glance at her.
She gripped her fork harder.
“Well, you’re both single, successful, good-looking…” dagdag pa ng dad ni Alaric, teasing.
Stine fake-laughed. “Too bad we hate each other, right?”
Everyone chuckled.
Except Alaric.
His hand brushed against her thigh under the table — accidentally… or not.
Stine flinched.
What the hell was that?
He leaned closer and whispered, low and quiet.
“Still hate me?”
She turned to him, cheeks pink, voice cold. “More than ever.”
Stine sipped her wine, lips twitching in annoyance. Beside her, Alaric was swirling his glass like he was bored out of his mind.
And then it came.
Don Emilio stood and raised his glass.
“To the future of our families.”
Stine’s fork froze mid-air.
Don Ramon followed suit. “To a bond that will last a lifetime.”
Alaric arched a brow. Stine narrowed her eyes.
Doña Clarisse placed a soft hand on Stine’s arm.
“Anak, we have wonderful news.”
Doña Vivian smiled sweetly. “We’re arranging your marriage.”
Silence.
Stine blinked once.
Alaric took a slow sip of wine—then choked.
“s**t,” he coughed, trying to compose himself as his mom patted his back. “I’m sorry—what?”
Stine stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the polished floor.
Her eyes burned into her parents.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Stine, anak, calm down—”
“You can’t just decide my future over dinner!”
Alaric was still coughing, red-faced and stunned. “What the hell is going on?”
“We just want what’s best,” said Doña Vivian. “You two have known each other since you were kids. You’re the perfect match.”
Stine turned to Alaric, fury flashing in her eyes.
“You’re not even worth losing my virginity to.”
His breath caught.
Her voice was shaking, but her eyes never wavered.
“I’m done.”
And without another word, she grabbed her clutch and stormed out—heels echoing sharply across the marble floor.
Alaric sat frozen, stunned, eyes locked on the space she’d just left behind.
No words.
Only the heavy silence of a dinner that just exploded.
- Writer
