Miss Perfectly Imperfect

MAYBE

Gavin asked Miss De Castro to stay behind after the meeting.

Shane sat quietly at the far end of the conference table, hands folded neatly over her notes. She hadn’t spoken much during the discussion—hardly at all, really. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his presence or if this was simply how she handled formal settings now.

Still, he noticed.

How her gaze followed every speaker, sharp and deliberate. How she took down notes even when it wasn’t required. There was precision in the way she moved, a quiet discipline. Maingat. Reserved. Different from before.

When the meeting finally wrapped, people began filing out one by one, murmuring about next steps as they went. A few stayed behind to clarify timelines, but soon, the room emptied until it was just the two of them.

Gavin cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“Miss De Castro,” he began, resting his hands on the edge of the table. “Can I have a minute?”

She nodded wordlessly, waiting.

He stood and walked toward the window, the late afternoon sun spilling across the city skyline. For a moment, he pretended to study the view, but all he could feel was the weight of her presence behind him.

“You don’t talk much,” he said finally, his voice low but steady, still facing the glass. “What’s wrong?”

There was a beat of silence, followed by the faintest sound of her breath. He almost thought she wouldn’t answer.

“Ganito naman po ako dati, ‘di ba?” she said at last, her tone quiet but composed. “I can’t even have decent talks with you, remember?”

That pulled his gaze back to her.

Shane’s eyes met his for just a second before darting down to her hands, now clasped tightly on the table.

“But that was before,” he said softly, the edge gone from his voice. “You’ve… way past that.”

She gave a small, almost imperceptible smile—one that never reached her eyes. And in that fleeting expression, Gavin felt a strange distance.

Like he was talking to someone he used to know. Or maybe… someone entirely new.

“People change,” Shane murmured, her words more like a reminder to herself than a response to him.

And for the first time in a long while, Gavin didn’t know what to say back.

“Yes,” Gavin said, trying to keep his voice steady, “pero sana changes for the better. And once you’ve achieved it, stay and focus on that lane… ’wag ka nang umikot pabalik.”

He didn’t mean for it to sound pointed—but maybe it was. Because he honestly didn’t know where else to put all the resentment he’d been carrying, the kind that clung quietly and refused to let go.

He looked away, pretending to gather his things, even though he had no real intention of leaving just yet.

Across the table, Shane let out a quiet breath, the kind that carried more weight than words, but she didn’t answer right away. So Gavin studied her instead—the poised set of her shoulders, the way her fingers rested neatly over her folder, as if steadying herself.

“I hope you know,” he said after a beat, his voice lower now, “hindi ko ‘yon sinasabi bilang boss mo.”

That made her look at him. Finally.

“You’ve come a long way,” he continued, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “And if you think I don’t see that… then I’ve been doing a poor job leading this team.”

For a moment, Shane said nothing. But something in the air shifted. Her expression didn’t harden; her gaze didn’t waver. Yet there was something new behind her eyes—something sharp, clear, unshaken.

“Hindi po ‘yan ang sinabi niyo kay Miss Agnes,” she said evenly.

The words landed with precision, cutting cleanly through the space between them.

Gavin blinked, caught off guard.

She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to.

The silence stretched, taut and fragile, like a thread pulled too tight. It was dangerous, this kind of honesty—the kind that left no place to hide.

He opened his mouth, ready to explain, to deny, maybe even to apologize… but nothing came out.

And then, just like that, she looked away, gathering her things without hurry, without hesitation.

“Salamat po, Boss,” she said softly, almost formally. “Labas na po ako. Still have work to do.”

She rose from her seat, smoothed her skirt, and walked toward the door.

Gavin stayed where he was, silent, watching her leave.

This time, he didn’t stop her.

The door closed with a muted click, leaving Gavin alone in the conference room.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared at the empty chair she’d left behind, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Shane’s words kept replaying in his head, each one hitting harder than he expected.

“Hindi po ‘yan ang sinabi niyo kay Miss Agnes.”

It shouldn’t have stung the way it did. But it did.

Because she was right.

Because he remembered exactly what he’d told Miss Agnes. How he’d dismissed the idea without even giving Shane a chance. How he’d called her unqualified for the Butuan project when, clearly, she had all the qualities he’d been looking for—had them all along.

And yet, some part of him… didn’t want her there. Bagay na hindi niya lubusang naiintindihan.

He leaned back against the chair, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

It wasn’t just guilt gnawing at him. It was something else—something heavier, messier. Something he couldn’t name without crossing a line he’d drawn years ago.

Because the truth is... Shane isn't just a simple employee now.

But Did Shane overhear that conversation?

Gavin leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the closed door. That day, he’d been frustrated. Overworked. Drained. He’d let his temper slip and said things he shouldn’t have—especially knowing how close Shane was to Tita Agnes. He thought it would stay between them. Akala niya, safe siya behind closed doors.

But now, facing her earlier—calm, composed, yet sharp in the quietest way—he felt the weight of every word he had carelessly thrown. Shane hadn’t raised her voice. She hadn’t confronted him outright. She didn’t need to. With one line, one measured response, she’d reminded him—subtly but unmistakably—of the damage he’d done.

And Gavin couldn’t decide which stung more:

the guilt of what he’d said, or the fact that she didn’t have to cry, didn’t have to get angry… and yet he felt every ounce of it.

She had heard him.

One way or another, she did.

And the worst part? He couldn’t take it back.

His gaze lingered on the door, muscles tense, jaw tight. The air in the room felt heavier, as if carrying the weight of words left unspoken. His hand drifted toward the folder she’d left on the table but stopped halfway, fingers curling back. He couldn’t focus on anything written there—not now.

Instead, Gavin reached for his phone, the cold glass grounding him for a moment.

He needed to clear his head.

Gavin scrolled through his contacts, thumb hesitating only briefly before tapping on one name.

Xander.

It rang twice before his friend picked up.

“Kararating ko lang sa office, migs. Don’t tell me kailangan mo na agad ‘yung final layout?”

Typical Xander. Calm. Composed. Straight to the point.

“Hindi,” Gavin said quietly, walking toward the window. “This isn’t about the deck.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Okay… then what’s up?”

“I just…” Gavin exhaled sharply. “Did Shane ever mention anything to you? Ilang minuto ka bang nanatili sa office nila?”

A beat of silence.

Then Xander scoffed—soft, almost inaudible, but there. “Oh,” he said, his tone shifting, “so it’s all about Miss De Castro again.”

Gavin froze, caught off guard.

“I thought you weren’t affected,” Xander added smoothly. “Bakit siya na lang lagi ang topic natin, Gav?”

The words landed heavier than Gavin expected.

“I—” he started, but nothing coherent followed. Maybe he had an answer, but he wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

“You keep saying it’s not personal,” Xander pressed, firmer now. “But let’s be honest—every time her name comes up, you don’t react like a boss. You react like something else is going on.”

And that stung—kasi totoo.

“I think she overheard us,” Gavin admitted finally. “My conversation with Tita Agnes.”

“Paano mo nalaman?”

“‘Cause I talked to her after the meeting,” he said, pacing his office. “I wanted to ask her personally if she wants to join the team for the site visit.”

“Finally! Nakinig ka rin,” Xander teased lightly.

“Yeah…” Gavin muttered.

“And?” Xander asked, already sensing where this was going.

“I tried to ease into it. Complimented her, told her she’s come a long way,” Gavin paused, rubbing his temple. “Pero binara niya ako. Calmly. She said, ‘Hindi po ’yan ang sinabi niyo kay Miss Agnes.’”

There was a sharp inhale from Xander’s end.

“She said it like she wasn’t angry,” Gavin continued softly. “Pero ramdam mo. May hinanakit.”

Silence on the line. Then Xander murmured, “Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“No,” Gavin replied, voice low. “Tumayo lang siya, nagpasalamat, tapos umalis. No confrontation. No drama. Just facts.”

Xander clicked his tongue. “Which, honestly, makes it worse.”

“I know.”

“Gav,” Xander said carefully, “sa nakikita ko, Shane isn’t the type who seeks validation. If she confronted you, malamang nasaktan talaga siya.”

Gavin didn’t respond, jaw tightening.

“Kung ako sayo,” Xander added finally, “I’d find her. Now.”

Gavin ended the call without replying and grabbed his coat.

He stepped out of his office and caught Lexi’s attention with a small wave. She hurried over immediately.

“Lexi,” he asked, “did Miss de Castro leave the floor?”

She blinked, surprised by the sudden question, then straightened. “Ah—yes, Boss. Just a few minutes ago.”

“Bumalik na sa Marketing?”

Lexi glanced at her monitor, brows furrowed. “Hmm… not sure po, Boss. Check ko lang sa kanila.”

“Please.”

She picked up the phone, speaking quickly. “Hello, this is Lexi. Pinapatanong po ni Boss G kung nakabalik na si Shane diyan?”

A short silence followed before she nodded faintly. “Ah, okay. Thank you.”

She hung up and turned back to him, lowering her voice. “Boss… sabi ni Gela bumalik daw siya saglit, pero kaagad ding umalils. Hindi na rawsinabi kung saan siya pupunta. She just grabbed her tablet and stepped into the elevator.”

Gavin exhaled slowly. “Alright. Got it.”

Sana hindi pa siya nakalabas.

He moved quickly—almost too quickly for someone trying to look composed. His hand shot out to press the elevator button, but the digital numbers above the door kept climbing instead of descending.

Damn it.

Stairs.

He shoved open the stairwell door, the metallic clang echoing behind him, and started down fast. One floor. Two.

By the time he hit the 8th floor landing, his breath was uneven—not from exhaustion, but from anticipation. He slowed, instinct pulling him to a stop.

Through the narrow glass panel of the stairwell door, he saw her.

SHANE.

She sat alone on one of the benches by the floor-to-ceiling window, her tablet resting idly on her lap. But she wasn’t working. She wasn’t even moving. Just… staring out, lost somewhere far from here. Calm. Still. Detached.

For a moment, Gavin froze, uncertainty rooting him in place. Maybe she didn’t want to see him. Maybe she wouldn’t even look his way.

But he stepped forward anyway.

Pushing the door open, he let the soft click announce him before he found his voice.

“Miss De Castro,” he called gently, almost tentative.

She turned, composed as ever, not a hint of surprise on her face.

“Yes, Boss?”

Boss.

The word landed heavier than it should have, a quiet reminder of the distance between them—of the lines they’d drawn, the boundaries they’d learned to live within. Mas lalo lang nitong idinidiin kung gaano ka propesyonal ang kanilang relasyon.

He slowed his pace, forcing calm into his steps until he stopped a few feet away.

“Can I sit?”

Shane’s gaze lingered on him for a second—long enough to feel like an eternity—before she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

He settled beside her, careful to leave just enough space between them.

“Kanina…” he began, his voice low, hesitant. “About what you said. You were right.”

Shane stayed quiet—not dismissive, just… waiting.

“I don’t know if you overheard it, or if Tita Agnes told you,” Gavin continued, choosing his words carefully. “But either way… I said things I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry.”

No reaction. Her gaze remained fixed on the wide expanse outside the window, hands folded neatly over her tablet as if anchoring herself to something solid.

“I was unfair,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I judged you based on my perspective, without seeing the bigger picture. And honestly?” He let out a quiet breath. “You proved me wrong. In every possible way.”

The silence stretched between them, thick and unbroken, until finally—finally—she turned to face him.

“Thank you, Boss,” she said.

Not sarcastic. Not cold. Just… formal.

But her eyes—there was something there. Not anger. Not quite forgiveness. Something softer. Fragile, almost like a door left slightly ajar.

“I’m not expecting anything,” Gavin added, his tone steady but quieter now. “I just… needed you to hear that from me. Not from a report. Not through performance reviews. But from me.”

For a moment, Shane simply held his gaze, searching for something unspoken. Then, she gave the smallest nod.

“Okay,” she said simply.

And somehow, that single word carried more weight than any apology ever could.

Gavin leaned back slightly, finally breathing easier. But there was still one more thing.

“Tita Agnes wants you to join us on the site visit,” he said steadily. “Pero hindi ko alam kung gusto mo rin bang sumama.”

She glanced at him, brief and unreadable, then turned her eyes back to the window. Silent.

“Now I’m asking,” Gavin clarified, his tone deliberate, “not because Tita told me to, and not dahil nakokonsensya ako…” He hesitated, then pressed on. “I’m asking you as your boss—who sees your growth, your capabilities, your eye for detail.”

For the first time, she shifted slightly toward him—not fully, but enough for him to notice the faint c***k in her composure.

“Will you care to join us?” he asked softly.

He didn’t rush her. Didn’t try to fill the silence with more words.

Because this wasn’t about making things right for him anymore.

This was about giving her the choice he should have given her long ago.

But there was hesitation in Shane’s eyes—a flicker of something he couldn’t name. Fear? Doubt? Or something deeper?

Was she avoiding the site visit? The project?

Or… was it him?

Her fingers began tapping lightly on the edge of her tablet, steady and rhythmic, as if she needed the motion to steady her thoughts.

Gavin wanted to ask, Is there something I should know?

But he stopped himself. Because he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

So he just sat there, waiting.

Hoping.

Then, at last, Shane drew in a slow, measured breath. Her grip on the tablet tightened—just slightly—before she eased it again.

“I’ll… think about it,” she murmured, so soft he almost missed it.

But there was something in her tone—something unspoken, uncertain—like she wasn’t just thinking about the site visit.

Gavin caught it. Felt it.

And for the first time that day, he let himself smile—small, fleeting, fragile.

Because maybe… just maybe… that was enough.