Kael's POV
Scene: Living Room, Evening
I sat on the edge of the couch, hands nervously gripping the fabric as I stared at him, my heart heavy with confusion. He was pacing in front of me, his phone in hand, eyes flickering between the screen and the floor. His body language screamed irritation, but I couldn't ignore it anymore.
"Hon, we need to talk," I said, voice soft but steady, trying to keep it together. "I can't just keep letting this slide."
He stopped, sighed dramatically, and looked at me like I was ruining his night. "Ano na naman? Ang dami mo talagang arte, parang wala tayong pwedeng gawin na tahimik."
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my calm. "I saw you checking him out again kanina. Hindi na to first time, and... I don't know, it's starting to feel wrong."
He rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Pucha, yun lang? Kaya mo ginawang big deal? Hindi naman tayo exclusive, di ba?"
I felt a sudden pang in my chest, like he had punched the air right out of me. "Not exclusive? I thought we were serious. All this time, I thought—"
"Hay nako," he interrupted, cutting me off with a wave of his hand. "You're overthinking. Tingin lang yun, wala naman akong ginagawa. You know, minsan parang you're just looking for reasons to fight."
"It's not just 'tingin lang.' It's the way you do it—how your eyes linger. It's like you're always looking for something else," I tried to explain, my voice trembling just slightly. "And the guys you follow online... it's like, am I not enough for you?"
He groaned loudly, throwing his hands up. "Tangina, hindi ko nga sila kilala! Bakit ba lagi mo na lang ginagawang issue ang mga bagay na walang kwenta?"
I felt my stomach twist as his words hit me, but I fought to stay calm. "It's not about kilala or hindi kilala. It's about how it makes me feel when you keep doing this. It's like you don't care how your actions hurt me."
He shot me a glare, stepping closer. "So what? Masama na bang tumingin? Pucha, gusto mo ba di na ko tumingin sa kahit kanino? Ganon ka na ba ka-insecure?"
I winced. There it was again—the accusation that I was the one being unreasonable. "I'm not asking you to stop looking at people. I'm asking for respect. You don't need to make me feel like I'm competing with every guy you check out."
"Respect?" He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You're being toxic as hell. Nakakasakal ka na. This isn't a big deal, pero every time we go out, parang kailangan akong bantayan ng mata mo."
"I'm not trying to control you. But when you're constantly looking at other guys, when you follow them and like all their pictures, it feels like I'm not enough for you." I hated how small my voice sounded, but it was the truth.
He stared at me, his eyes narrowing. "Wow, so now I'm the villain? Ang simple lang ng mundo ko pero ikaw lagi mong pinapalaki mga bagay na 'di naman dapat problema. Hindi ko kasalanan na attractive yung ibang lalaki!"
I felt my throat tighten as I fought back the tears threatening to spill. "I'm not blaming you for thinking someone's attractive, but when you make it so obvious, like you're checking them out in front of me, it hurts. Can't you understand that?"
"Eh di ikaw ang mag-adjust!" He spat the words out like they were venom. "Kung ayaw mo ng ganito, edi umalis ka. Hanap ka ng ibang jowa na kaya mong i-micromanage kasi ako, ayoko sa ganun. You're suffocating me!"
I stared at him in disbelief, the words hitting me harder than I expected. "Suffocating you? Ako pa ngayon ang masama?"
"Yeah!" He shot back, voice rising in anger. "Pucha, you're always checking my phone, nag-a-assume ka ng kung ano-ano. Lahat na lang ng kilos ko, may mali sa'yo. Alam mo ba gaano ka toxic mag-isip minsan?"
My heart dropped. Was he serious? "Toxic ako? I'm the one who's trying to make this work. Ikaw, you don't even seem to care that I'm hurting."
"Eh bakit, kelan ba ako nag-cheat? I've never cheated, pero parang sa utak mo, I'm already guilty just because I looked at someone! Sobrang over ka. You need to chill."
I took a deep breath, my voice shaky as I tried to make him understand. "I never said you cheated. Pero every time you look at other guys like that, it makes me feel like I'm not enough. It feels like you're looking for something I'm not giving you."
He laughed, harsh and cold. "Drama mo, seryoso ka? Pucha, ikaw yung di na kaya ang sarili mong insecurities. Ako na nga yung nandito, ikaw pa yung nasasaktan?"
"I'm not asking for much," I whispered, barely able to get the words out. "I just want to feel like I'm the only one you see when we're together."
"Pucha, hindi ako robot!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the small room. "I'm not gonna stop being who I am just because you're jealous. If you can't handle it, edi ikaw na bumitaw! Simple lang."
I felt the tears finally spill over, but I didn't wipe them away. I just looked at him, the person I thought I knew, realizing that maybe he had never really understood me at all.
"I don't want to leave," I said softly, choking on the words. "But I can't keep doing this. I'm trying to understand you, but it feels like you don't even care how I feel."
He shrugged, as if my words meant nothing. "Ayoko na rin ng ganyang drama. If you can't deal with it, wala akong magagawa. Sawa na ako."
With that, he grabbed his jacket, heading towards the door. I watched him, my heart breaking with every step he took. The door slammed shut, and the silence that followed felt unbearable. I was left sitting there, staring at the door, wondering how everything had gone so wrong.
Maybe it was time to stop trying to understand someone who wasn't willing to change. Maybe it was time to let go.
Early Morning
I hadn't slept at all. My eyes were burning from both exhaustion and tears, and I lay curled up on the couch, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The words he'd thrown at me last night echoed in my head, over and over. I felt torn—part of me still loved him, still wanted to believe things could get better, but another part was so tired of being hurt.
A soft knock on the door broke through my thoughts. It was almost 4:30 a.m. My heart skipped a beat. I knew it was him.
Slowly, I got up, dragging my feet across the cold floor as I went to open the door. Sure enough, there he was. He stood there, looking tired, his eyes slightly red, but his face was unreadable.
"Hon, can we talk?" His voice was soft, almost pleading.
I hesitated for a moment but eventually stepped aside, letting him in. He walked past me and stood in the middle of the living room, his hands shoved into his pockets, as if unsure of what to say.
"I couldn't sleep," he began, his voice low. "I kept thinking about last night."
I crossed my arms and stood a few feet away from him, still guarded. "And?"
He sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. "Hon, I didn't mean for things to get that bad. I didn't want to hurt you."
"You did hurt me," I said, the pain from last night still fresh in my voice. "You said I was suffocating, that I was toxic. And you acted like my feelings didn't matter."
He looked down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was just angry, okay? I wasn't thinking straight. You know how I get when I'm frustrated."
"That's not an excuse," I shot back. "You always blame it on being angry, but you don't realize how much it hurts when you talk to me like that. You made me feel like I'm the problem, like I'm the one who's asking for too much."
He stepped forward, his expression softening. "Hon, I didn't mean it like that. You're not the problem. I am. I was just overwhelmed, you know? Work, stress, everything… it all just came out wrong."
I shook my head, feeling the frustration rising again. "Every time it's the same. You mess up, I try to talk to you, and then suddenly I'm the one who's overreacting or being insecure. Do you even hear yourself?"
He raised his hands in surrender. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. You have every right to be upset. I just... I don't want to lose you over this, okay? I know I said things I shouldn't have. I was just trying to protect myself. I don't know why I said all those things. Maybe I was scared."
"Scared of what?" I asked, genuinely confused. "Scared of having to be accountable? Of actually respecting my feelings?"
"Scared of losing you," he said quietly, his eyes finally meeting mine. "I know I'm not perfect. I know I've messed up a lot, but I love you, hon. And I don't want us to end over something like this."
I stared at him, my arms still crossed over my chest. Part of me wanted to believe him, wanted to take comfort in those words. But I'd heard them before. "Do you really love me? Because it doesn't feel like it when you keep treating me like this."
He took another step closer, his hand reaching out to take mine. "I do love you. And I know I haven't been good to you lately, but I want to fix this. I'm willing to change, okay? I'll stop checking out other guys. I'll stop making you feel like you don't matter. I'll try harder."
I bit my lip, trying to keep my emotions in check. "How do I know this isn't just another empty promise? You always say you'll change, but nothing ever happens."
"Because this time, I mean it," he said, his voice earnest. "I don't want to lose you. I know I need to do better. I know I need to make you feel like you're enough for me—because you are. I just need you to give me another chance."
I looked at him, searching his face for sincerity. He looked tired, vulnerable even, like he was pleading for a second chance. But I was tired too—tired of always being the one to forgive, the one to make things okay.
"I just don't want to keep going through this," I whispered. "It hurts too much, and it's draining. I don't know how much more I can take."
"I promise, hon, I'll do better," he said, his voice soft and urgent. "I know I've said it before, but I'll prove it this time. Please, just… give me one more chance. I can't lose you."
I sighed, the weight of the conversation pressing down on me. "Okay," I said quietly, after a long pause. "But things have to change. You can't keep making me feel like I'm overreacting when I'm just telling you how I feel."
He nodded quickly, relief washing over his face. "I promise. I won't do that again. I'll listen to you more, and I'll work on it. I don't want to hurt you anymore."
We stood there in silence for a moment, the tension easing but still lingering. He reached out, gently pulling me into a hug. His arms around me felt familiar, safe even, but I couldn't shake the nagging feeling in the back of my mind—wondering how long this peace would last.
"Thank you, hon," he whispered into my ear, holding me close. "I won't let you down this time."
I nodded against his chest, too tired to say anything else.
After a while, I pulled back slightly, glancing at the clock. "I need to go," I said, my voice heavy with exhaustion. "I haven't slept yet. I came straight here after work."
He looked at me, surprised. "You came here right after work? You haven't rested?"
I shook my head. "No, I just... I couldn't sleep after our fight. I needed to talk to you, to figure this out."
"Hon, I didn't know," he said softly, guilt flickering across his face. "You should've told me. You must be exhausted."
"I am," I admitted, my body aching for rest. "But I couldn't leave things like that. I couldn't stop thinking about it."
He nodded, looking genuinely apologetic. "I'm really sorry. I didn't want to keep you up all night."
"It's okay," I replied, giving him a small, tired smile. "But I really need to go now. I have to get some sleep."
He stepped back, letting me go. "Yeah, of course. You should rest. You've had a long night."
I grabbed my bag and headed toward the door, feeling the weight of exhaustion hit me all at once. I paused before opening it, turning back to him one last time. "We'll talk more later, okay?"
"Yeah, later," he said, nodding. "Thanks again, hon. I'm really grateful you're giving me another chance."
I gave him a brief nod before stepping out the door. As I walked out into the early morning air, I felt a strange mix of relief and uncertainty. I had forgiven him, again, but I couldn't help but wonder if things would really change this time. The familiar cycle of hurt and apologies lingered in the back of my mind, but for now, all I wanted was to go home and rest.
Maybe tomorrow, I'd have more clarity. Or maybe, I'd just be back where I started.