The days that followed were a mix of reality and something that almost felt like a dream. After that night—the tangled mess of limbs, breathless kisses, and unspoken confessions—Kate and Frooze didn't talk about what had happened.
Not directly. Not seriously.
But they messaged each other. Every single day to the point that it felt like it was already a routine.
Kate didn't know what to call it. It wasn't a relationship. It wasn't casual. It was something in between.
It was frustrating…
It started with his first message: "Good morning, baby. I hope you have a beautiful day today. Study well."
Kate nearly dropped her phone the first time she read it. Baby? He called her baby.
Grrrr! Mahina siya sa callsign na iyon! For some reason, when someone calls her that—even if that person was the same gender as her—she would feel like someone was tickling her in her sensitive spots! Oddly pleasurable tickle if she must say…
Who does that after a one-night stand? After just being in each other's company for a day?
And why did it make her chest feel like it was blooming?
That was Day 1.
On Day 2, he sent another message in the afternoon, just as she was heading into her 3 p.m. class:
"Good luck sa class mo, baby. Huwag mo kalimutan mag-snack ha."
She bit her lip to stop the smile. Baby again. She didn't reply right away because she was too busy fanning herself with her hand.
"Oi ikaw ah, ngiti-ngiti ka dyan ah! Sino yang kausap mo?" Her friend Riz asked her, smirking with a knowing look.
Kate tried to keep her composure, shrugging off the question like it was nothing. "Wala, wala. Group chat lang," she mumbled and walked ahead faster than usual to avoid further questioning.
But Riz wasn't buying it.
"Hmm, sige. But I better meet that 'wala' soon!"
Kate pretended not to hear her.
Day 3, he dropped a voice message. She played it while brushing her hair before class. It was short, simple, and criminally effective:
"Namiss kita today. Ang tahimik ng site kapag hindi kita nakakausap. Miss ka na ng daily asar ko, baby."
Her jaw dropped. She paused mid-brush, stared at her reflection, and just whispered, "What the hell are you doing to me, Frooze? Heck! Frooze nga ba ang itatawag ko sa lalaking ito o Ceath?"
She ended up playing the voice message twice. Okay—maybe five times. Because his voice? Too smooth. Too deep. Too dangerous.
By Day 4, it was a given. The way he greeted her—whether it was "Baby," "Honey," or "Babe"—was already expected, and yet it still made her insides twist in the softest, stupidest way.
She tried to keep her cool.
"Tigil-tigilan mo yang 'baby' na yan, utang na loob. Di ako sanay. Parang ang weird sa feeling," she once replied, trying to sound annoyed.
He just sent a laughing emoji and followed up with: "Kaya nga sinasanay na kita. Kasi you'll be hearing it from me every day. Give it a week."
He was right.
And by Day 5, she didn't even flinch when he said:
"Baby, I dreamt about you last night. Nasa site ka, pero naka-nurse uniform. Ganda mo grabe."
She scoffed at her phone and replied: "Alam mo, weird ka talaga."
And he sent back immediately: "Weirdly yours."
She choked on her water and had to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand while laughing like a lunatic.
Her friend Riz stared at her. "Ano na naman yan, friend?"
"Nothing! Meme lang," she lied, cheeks burning.
Every day, it was something. A line. A meme. A random photo of his coffee with a heart drawn on the foam. "For you, baby," the caption said. She called him corny. He called her cute.
She blushed so much that she started checking her face in the mirror just to make sure she wasn't permanently red.
It was impossible not to anticipate the next time he'd call her baby. She was beginning to wait for it. Expect it. Crave it.
He was slowly planting himself in her routine. In her quiet moments. In her tired nights. In her smiles.
And each time she heard the word "baby," her heart said yes—even when her brain kept warning her no.
Because somehow… somehow it didn't feel like just a nickname anymore.
It felt like something real was starting to grow.
At first, she didn't reply immediately. She wasn't used to it. Her ex never used pet names. It felt foreign. But slowly, the unfamiliar became familiar. And the butterflies stopped being violent; they became a soft flutter. Gentle. Lingering.
Ahhhh basta!
Frooze messaged her daily. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes at random hours when he was on break from work. He sent photos of his office desk, messy with blueprints, coffee cups, and empty pens.
"This is me pretending to be busy," one caption read.
For the info, currently he's an office engineer. That much she learned after a few days of chatting. He worked for a construction firm in Quezon City and often spent his hours juggling numbers and site reports.
Kate found it oddly charming—how serious he could be at work, and how unserious he was when talking to her.
But yeah…frustrating too. Because why was he doing this?! What is his motive? What does he want from her?
In turn, Kate sent him snaps of her notebooks, her thick nursing textbooks, and her overloaded schedules.
"This is me, surviving," she once captioned. She laughed at her dark humour. She had always had that humour in her, that is why she only had one friend, because no one gets her.
He would respond with dramatic emojis, sometimes with badly drawn memes of a stickman drowning in books.
They talked about everything.
Kate told him about her patients during duty days. The good ones. The rude ones. The old man who winked at her when she handed over his meds. The kid who gave her a crumpled candy.
"Super stress! Minsan tinatanong ko nalang sarili ko kung bakit nursing ang nakuha kong course hahahahaha," she once messaged him, complete with a crying emoji.
He told her about his annoying supervisor. About the vendor who always overcharged him for pancit. About how his co-workers teased him whenever he smiled while texting—which, apparently, happened too often lately.
"Ang angas angas ko pero pangiti-ngiti ako. What sorcery is this? What did you do to me, lady?"
Kate would roll her eyes and type, "Sino ba kasi kausap mo at pangiti-ngiti ka dyan? Kawawa naman yun, nasisi pa."
And he would reply: "Ikaw lang naman, baby."
That word again. Baby. It stuck.
Within a week, she had gotten used to it. At some point, she started replying with, "Ingat sa work, Honey," or "Galingan mo sa site mo, Babe."
What was happening to her?
She used to scoff at couples who were cheesy. But now? Now she smiled like an idiot whenever she saw his name pop up on her notifications. Aside from that she would respond as fast as if she was the Flash.
Na buang na si ate girl!
Sometimes, they'd call each other late at night. She'd be in bed, hair tied up messily, lights dimmed, the exhaustion of the day heavy on her shoulders.
He'd be in his condo unit, probably with a cup of instant noodles or a half-eaten sandwich beside him.
"Kamusta ka na, baby?" he'd ask.
And just like that, the day would melt away.
There was comfort in the way he said her name. There was something dangerous about how easily he slipped into her world. How seamless it felt. How natural it became.
Sometimes they'd talk for an hour. Sometimes they'd fall asleep on the phone. Other times, they would just sit in silence, the presence enough.
He shared things she didn't expect. His childhood stories. His dreams. How he wanted to start a small business someday. How he loved old Filipino movies. How he sometimes ate corned beef straight out of the can because he was too lazy to cook.
"But I often just buy fast foods."
Kate found herself opening up too. About her fears. Her insecurities. How she was scared of not making it through nursing school. How she sometimes wondered if she was enough. How she missed her old self before she got into college. How she cried once in the hospital bathroom after a particularly rough duty.
"Minsan sinasabi ko sa sarili ko, sana inenjoy ko yung days na bata pa ako. Nung nasa Elementary pa ako?"
And he always knew what to say. Always found a way to make her laugh.
Ang galing nito mag engage, parang wala dead air kapag nagkakausap sila.
One night, she told him, "Grabe ka, Frooze. Bakit parang ang dali mo lang pumasok sa routine ko?"
He responded, "Kasi I was meant to fit into it."
Kate laughed, blushed, buried her face into her pillow.
"Ang kapal ng mukha mo," she replied.
"Makapal talaga. Pero para sayo lang," he texted back, followed by a winking emoji.
"Ganyan ba kapag tumatanda? Nagiging cheezy?"
"Grabe ka baby, 22 palang ako! And you? 20! Anak ng pating talaga oh. Parang ang tanda ko naman masyado sa paningin mo."
Kate chuckled at his message.
She never thought someone could be this annoyingly charming. But here she was, saving his selfies, listening to voice messages he didn't mean to send twice, and waiting—always waiting—for that familiar buzz of her phone.
Is this all just an infatuation? Mawawala rin naman ito eventually, right?
But what if it doesn't?
What if she's actually starting to want more?
All she knew was—it felt good.
And for now, that was enough.