Gabie's POV
It's been two months since I last saw Mama. I admit—I miss her. Her voice, her presence, the way she fussed over everything. But I'm still not ready to face her. The words I want to say get stuck in my chest every time I think of her.
I've been staying at August's place since I left. I haven't even seen his sister once. Most of the time, I'm alone—August's either working or sleeping after a long shift.
Today's Mama's birthday.
"How is she? Is Jhay with her? Did she prepare anything? Is she angry at me for leaving and being gone until now?
Those questions loop endlessly in my head. I try to ignore them, but they keep finding their way back.
It's been hard to leave the house to process my ID. August told me that Miggy allegedly offered a reward to anyone who could point out where I was. So, I've been laying low here. In return, even if he didn't ask me to, I volunteered to help around—cleaning, cooking, doing the laundry. It didn't feel right doing nothing while living under his roof. Imagine the shame if I just let him cook after a tiring shift or do laundry on his only rest day.
At first, he told me not to bother—I might get tired, he said—but I didn't listen. He eventually gave up arguing. He still complains when I iron his uniform, though. Says I shouldn't bother. But I do it anyway.
I've also moved into the spare room so his sister can have privacy whenever she visits. And I keep it spotless—just in case.
Since I started living here, I've seen how kind August really is. There's this quiet gentleness about him, especially when he talks to his grandparents over the phone. I often overhear him, and the way he speaks—so soft and warm—you can tell he was raised with love.
He even bought me a phone. Said it was so I wouldn't get bored while stuck at home. I thanked him, of course, but I haven't gone online. I don't want anyone to spot me. Instead, I downloaded games and read through his sister's collection of novels. She has a lot. Apparently, she's a big reader but doesn't have time anymore because of med school. She lives in a dorm, so she rarely comes home.
"Hi!" August greeted as I opened the door for him. I've memorized his schedule by now. Unless there's an emergency, he always comes home around this time.
"Hi! How was your day?" I asked, smiling.
"Nothing much," he replied, kicking off his shoes.
"Are you eating now? Should I serve you dinner?" I always ask first because sometimes he prefers to relax on the couch and watch the news before eating. Other times, he's starving and wants to eat right away.
"What about you?" he asked instead.
At first, I found it odd—someone answering a question with another question. Mama and Jhay weren't like that. But I've learned it's just his way.
"I'm still full. I had lunch late after I finished the laundry and fell asleep."
"Okay. I'll watch the news first," he said, turning on the big TV and propping his socked feet up on the center table—his usual spot. The first time he did it, I was surprised, but now it's just a part of his post-duty ritual. Sometimes he hugs a throw pillow while watching. It's weirdly endearing.
"Hey! I already told you not to skip meals. That's not healthy," he called out, half-distracted by the news. He likes scolding me like he's my older brother.
"Wow, Gabie. Instant big bro? You don't even have a real one. But here you are, hiding from one," I mumbled to myself.
"Yes," I said out loud, avoiding the start of another debate. August likes arguing. You'll never win. He should've been a lawyer, honestly. With his sharp tongue, he could win any case.
"Good." That was it. When he's satisfied, he nods and sometimes pats my head like I'm a toddler.
"Hey, by the way," he said suddenly, "I'll be visiting my grandparents next week. It's Lolo's birthday on Wednesday. I'll stay a couple of days with them. You want to come?"
I blinked, startled. "It feels wrong... I'm not even part of your family."
"Already told them you're coming," he said casually.
"What? You told them?" I gawked.
"Yeah. Why?"
"W-Weren't they mad? I mean... you brought home a girl they don't know?"
"They're not like that," he shrugged.
I fell silent. I didn't know what to say. He was serious, and part of me still couldn't believe it.
"So, are you coming?"
"Uhm... okay. If it's really alright. I'd rather come than be left here alone. What if something goes missing and I get blamed?" I said hesitantly.
"You really love overthinking, huh?" he chuckled. "That's not healthy either."
"I'm just not used to people like you," I said quietly.
"People like me?"
"People who trust too easily."
"Well, you're wrong. I don't trust easily. But there are always exceptions to every rule."
"What's the exception?"
"You. When I saw your profile and background, no criminal records, nothing suspicious—I knew you were safe. I'm a cop, remember? If something was off, I'd drag you to the station myself. So, relax."
"You're so weird when you explain things. You're giving me a headache," I laughed.
"You're weirder."
"Kidding! Don't get grumpy."
"Whatever," he muttered, throwing me a sideways glance.
"I wish you were at least good-looking if you're going to be this annoying," I muttered under my breath.
"What?"
"Nothing! I said maybe you're just hungry and that's why you're cranky," I blurted out in panic.
But before I could escape to the kitchen...
"I heard that. You think I'm handsome and annoying!"
"Gosh, Gabie, you idiot! Whispering doesn't work when the person's right next to you!" I scolded myself.
Avoiding his eyes, I darted to the kitchen to serve dinner. But I was so flustered that I dropped the spoons and forks. Smooth move.
"Hey! Will you calm down, sweetheart" he said calmly.
But for some reason, his words had a strange effect on me. I ignored him, pretending not to hear anything, and busied myself with what I was doing. I saw him standing by the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching me.
"Oh, my gosh, I'm really doing this, huh?" I muttered under my breath. "Fun, fun, yeah right! This guy's acting like he's just watching a movie. Might as well grab some popcorn and soda. Seriously, does he need to supervise every little thing I do?"
"Stop blabbering. Did you really think I couldn't hear that, sweetheart? FYI, I'm not deaf. I heard everything!" he bellowed, half-laughing.
My body froze. I couldn't look at him. My face burned like a red bell pepper — pure shame. I suddenly lost my appetite and wished the floor would swallow me whole to save me from another round of humiliation.
"Sweet Jesus, please forgive me for all my sins. I swear I'll be good from now on," I prayed silently.
Without another thought, I walked—no, bolted—out of the kitchen, headed upstairs, and locked myself inside the room.
"What is wrong with you, Gabie?" I scolded myself, smacking my own lips lightly. "You embarrassed yourself again! You just had to go and talk to yourself in front of him like a lunatic!"
Leaning against the door, I clutched my chest. My heartbeat pounded so hard it felt like I had run ten laps. I was this close to a heart attack.
"If it's not a stray bullet that kills me, it'll be my heart," I muttered.
Then I heard footsteps. My nerves doubled. I panicked, jumped on the bed, and threw the blanket over my entire body.
"Ugh, stupid!" I hissed. "I should've hidden in the bathroom! Why did I run here? You're such an idiot, Gabie!"
The door knob turned slowly. My eyes widened.
"Lord, I know I've sinned, but please don't send me to Lucifer yet!" I whispered frantically.
The door opened—and I heard him laughing.
"What the hell are you doing?" his voice echoed through the room.
Now would be the perfect time for the floor to swallow me whole. Like in those shows on Hiraya Manawari.
I kept quiet as he walked in. The blanket was suddenly yanked off me. My eyes squeezed shut, and I covered my face with my hands.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked again. I said nothing. He sighed, then slowly tried to peel my hands away. I resisted, but his large hands easily overpowered mine, clasping both wrists in one hand.
"Oh, come on. Open your eyes and look at me," he said gently—but the way his voice sounded made the hairs on my arms stand on end.
"No," I muttered stubbornly.
"Sweetheart, look at me. Please."
His voice… there was something about it. Almost like a spell. Against my better judgment, I opened my eyes. He gently lifted my chin with his finger until I was staring into his deep, dark eyes.
I swallowed hard. It was the first time I'd ever looked at him that closely.
"Why did you leave me back there, hmm?" he whispered, his breath brushing against my ear.
I tried to speak, but my throat was dry. Nothing came out.
His scent drifted to my nose — masculine, warm, disarming — and it made my head spin.
"Hey. Are you okay?" he asked.
"Y-yeah," I barely managed.
He looked at me, not convinced. "Okay then. So, why'd you suddenly leave before dinner? Hm?"
I stayed silent. Still couldn't bring myself to say I left because I was embarrassed. His hand was still holding both of mine, like he was cradling a child's.
"Did your tongue get tied?" he teased.
I shook my head.
"Then why can't you talk?"
Again, I just shook my head.
"I, uhm…" My voice faded. Honestly, I didn't know how to tell him that I didn't want to humiliate myself again.
"Why did I even come here? I should've locked the door. I could've avoided this if I just stayed downstairs!" I cursed myself silently.
"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked, softer now.
"I—I'm not… I'm not comfortable being called sweetheart," I stammered. "Because I-I'm not your g-girlfriend… that's… weird."
"Oh?" he smirked. "So, what—do you want to be my girlfriend, then?"
"Huh?!" I squeaked.
He mimicked me playfully. "Huh?" he echoed, grinning.
"You're so full of yourself!" I snapped, slapping his shoulder. He just laughed.
"I thought you were mute," he teased.
He stood up slowly but didn't let go of my hands.
"C'mon, let's eat. I'm starving," he said, gently pulling me up from the bed. Like an idiot, I followed him without protest. "Why did he have this effect on me?"
We walked downstairs without another word. We ate in silence too, though I could feel his gaze on me the entire time. I was too nervous to eat properly.
When he offered to clean up, I didn't argue. I quietly left the table and went back to the room to lock myself in again.
I don't know why this is happening.
Lately, I've been feeling it — this weird, fluttery feeling — but I don't want to ask or make anything awkward. I'm scared. Scared of embarrassing myself again.
***
We had a smooth ride to Laguna, heading to his grandparents' ancestral house. Just like he said, we made a quick stop at a fast-food place for dinner.
I tried to steady my nerves, but my stomach was still tangled in knots. First out-of-town trip with a guy I barely know—and he's taking me straight to meet his grandparents? That's not just bold. That's a high dive.
"Chill," he said with a grin. "They won't bite. Grandpa and Grandma are super kind. You'll like them. Besides, I already told them about you."
"What exactly did you tell them?"
"The truth. Why? What do you want me to say?"
I hesitated, cheeks warming. "I don't know… Maybe that I'm not just some random girl who ended up living in your house? What if they think less of me?"
He gave me a steady look. "Hey, I told them everything. They understand. I've always been honest with them—that's how we were raised. No secrets, no judgment."
I glanced down, feeling embarrassed. "It's just... awkward."
"Nah," he smiled. "They're going to like you. Trust me."