There was a knock on my door
.
I nearly dropped my hair roller.
Was this it? Was this the beginning of my redemption arc as a functioning adult who knows how to drive?
I practically skipped to the door barefoot, in pink sweatpants, with a single sock hanging off one foot like a sad flag of excitement and opened it.
There he was.
Cairo.
Leaning against my doorframe like a brooding magazine cover. White hoodie, black sweatpants, hair messy in the exact way that makes you question if you should start journaling again just to write about him.
"You're early," I said, hugging the edge of the door like a teenage girl in a sitcom.
He blinked. Slowly. Like his default setting was 'emotionally unavailable.'
"You asked me to help you drive," he said, monotone.
I nodded. "Right. Right! Come in! Or, wait, should we go? Is Red ready?"
He raised a brow. "Red?"
"My car," I said proudly. "She's not pink. She's red. Like a red tomato"
We made our way to the basement parking.
I clicked the key, and there she was—gleaming like a shy tomato.
Still too cute to look intimidating, but i believed in her.
In us.
Cairo walked around the car once, inspecting it like a silent judge on a car makeover show. I half-expected him to pull out a clipboard.
"Alright," he finally said."Let's start with the basics."
We got in.
He sat in the passenger seat, arms folded, while i adjusted everything like i was about to fly a spaceship.
I fumbled with the seatbelt.
It tried to strangle me. Cairo didn't laugh, but his lips twitched.
Progress.
"Hands at ten and two," he said, calm, collected, annoyingly composed.
I held the wheel like it owed me money.
"And foot on the brake."
"Got it."
We rolled out of the basement parking at the speed of a suspicious turtle.
My palms were sweating, and i kept whispering motivational quotes to myself like, You are Elara. You have survived worse. Like high school. And curtain bangs.
He guided me through the streets near our condo, taking turns, switching lanes, parking between cones he made me stop and set up.
He was calm. Efficient. Ruthless.
But at least he wasn't yelling.
Until i almost ran over a pigeon.
"Brake!" he barked.
I screamed.
The pigeon flapped its wings dramatically like it was offended by my existence and took off.
"That was… fine," I said, heart pounding.
Cairo just stared at me.
Then his phone rang.
He picked it up with one hand, still cool and collected, and answered with a brief, "Hello?"
I tried not to eavesdrop.
Which meant, obviously, I listened to every single syllable like my life depended on it.
His face didn't change.
He didn't frown.
He didn't look panicked.
But something about the way he sat up straighter, the way his eyes went still…
"Yeah," he said into the phone. "I'll be there."
He hung up.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Emergency," he said. "At home."
"At your condo?"
"No," he said, avoiding my eyes. "Our house."
He meant the mansion.
The ancestral Deviera place with intimidating stairs and a private koi pond i once accidentally dropped my phone into.
My chest tightened. "Oh. Is everything okay?"
He didn't answer right away. Just looked at me. Blank. Quiet.
"I have to go."
And like that, the lesson was over.
He parked Red carefully back in the basement. Didn't say much. Just handed me the keys like i was a stranger who borrowed his pen.
Then walked off to his black sports car like a dramatic billionaire in a revenge drama, engine purring before he disappeared down the ramp and into the traffic.
I stood there.
Holding my car keys.
Feeling like i just got broken up with even though we weren't even dating.
I didn't know how long i stood in the basement parking lot, clutching my car keys like they were a moral support talisman.
I mean… who just drives off without closure?
Cairo. That's who.
Mr. Emotionless. Mr. I-Have-No-Tone. Mr. Emergency-In-A-Mansion.
I dragged myself back up to my unit like someone walking home after getting voted off a reality show.
The elevator ride felt longer than my will to live.
By the time i stepped back into my condo, Red's keys were still clutched in my hand and my soul was… not here.
Out for delivery, maybe.
I changed into fresh pajamas, tied my hair up into a lopsided bun, and flopped onto the couch like a tragic K-drama heroine.
I even played sad instrumental music in the background. Strings. Maybe a little piano. Very "Why doesn't he love me when i clearly have such good cheekbones?" vibes.
-
The clock hit 6PM.
Then 7.
Then 8:12PM.
Cairo was still not back.
That's when my brain started spiraling.
What if he got into an accident?
What if it wasn't a real emergency and he just didn't want to be around me?
What if… what if it was that Nadine girl again?
OH MY GOD.
Nadine.
That cursed woman with her shiny hair and suspiciously perfect eyebrows.
The audacity.
The nerve.
The fully lined upper eyelid.
If i see that girl again, swear to all saints of parking lot peace, I will snatch her balayage out of her skull.
Fuming, I paced the hallway of my condo like a trapped cat with abandonment issues.
Then panic gave way to another feeling: hunger.
Unfortunately, I cannot eat when i'm sad.
Fortunately, I can call Ari.
I FaceTimed her and gave my best "please save me from my own spiral" look.
"Let's eat," I said. "I can't do this. I can't be sad and hungry. That's just… tragic."
Ari sighed like he had already seen this episode of my life five times. "Give me ten. Where?"
"There's that restaurant near the building. The one with the heart-shaped ice cubes."
"Girl. That's not the main reason we like it—"
"IT IS FOR ME, ARI."
Ten minutes later, we were seated in a cozy corner of the restaurant.
I was swirling my water with a pink straw shaped like a flamingo, refusing to eat until Ari was fully caught up.
"And then he left. Just poof, like a rich ghost," I said, stabbing my fries like they owed me closure.
"Maybe it really was an emergency," Ari said gently.
I narrowed my eyes. "Then why hasn't he come back? Or messaged? Or sent a carrier pigeon?"
"You sound like a clingy wife."
"That's because I am a clingy wife, Ari. In my mind. Spiritually. Emotionally. I'm basically planning our wedding playlist."
Ari covered his face with both hands. "Lord, grant me strength."
Just then—like a slap from the universe—I saw him.
Cairo.
Seated in the far side of the restaurant.
And he wasn't alone.
With him was a woman. Beautiful. Sophisticated. Wearing pearls like she wasn't afraid of choking on elegance.
She looked… expensive.
Like she only ate salad grown on volcanic soil.
My eyes went wide.
I froze mid-fry.
"Oh. My. God," I whispered. "Ari. Ari. Don't look. But LOOK."
Ari turned. Froze. "That's Cairo, right?"
I nodded so hard my neck cracked. "Who is she? A sister? A tita? A sugar mommy?"
Ari looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. "Please don't do what i think you're about to do."
Too late.
I stood up, grabbed my drink like it was a microphone, and stomped over to their table like a woman possessed by all the teleseryes i binge-watched in college.
Cairo looked up, mid-bite.
His expression? Flatline.
Like he was watching weather reports.
I ignored him and turned to the woman.
She blinked at me, mid-fork.
"Hi," I said, sweetly. Too sweetly. "I don't know who you are, but this man—" I pointed at Cairo with dramatic flair, "—is my future husband."
The woman's brows lifted. Elegant. Controlled. Amused?
I was about to say more, but then Cairo calmly set his utensils down, leaned back, and said:
"Elara. That's my mom."
Silence.
Actual silence.
Like the restaurant got vacuumed.
I blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
He nodded. Still flat. "My mom. You just told my mom that i'm your future husband."
I turned to her slowly.
My smile froze. "Hi po… Tita."
She smiled. Smiled. "So you're Elara. I've heard… a lot."
OH.
MY.
GOD.
I wanted the earth to open and swallow me whole.
No, not even that. I wanted it to open, chew me, and spit me directly into Antarctica so i could live the rest of my life raising penguins in shame.
"My… my apologies po," I said, voice suddenly three octaves higher and five times more inutile. "I… didn't realize—no one said—like, there's nothing written in your forehead like "I birthed Cairo"
Cairo's mom simply smiled. Graceful. Unbothered.
As if she got accused of being her son's mistress every day.
She sipped her wine like we were just doing improv theater and i was the comic relief.
Ari, bless his loyal soul, had sprinted over to rescue me and was now doing frantic charades from behind Cairo's mom's seat.
I think he was mouthing "apologize and retreat!" but I couldn't focus.
My brain had entered "dial tone" mode.
"I'm so sorry for the… intrusion," I said, clutching my drink like it was my last defense. "I just thought—because—Cairo and I—uhm…"
I glanced at Cairo.
His expression?
Still. Freaking. Neutral.
I hate that about him.
That unreadable face. That emotionally constipated energy. That "I won't even blink if the building collapses" aura.
I cleared my throat. "I'm gonna go. But you look very young po, promise. Like, K-drama stepmom vibes."
THAT.
WAS.
NOT.
HELPFUL.
I ran.
Like, full-on walk of shame back to my table.
I slumped into the booth, slid down like melted cheese, and covered my face with the flamingo straw. "I am never eating again. I don't deserve food. I'm gonna go on a fast. A humiliation fast."
Ari was wheezing beside me, trying not to laugh but very obviously failing.
"You told his mom he was your future husband," he said between hiccups. "That's the most Elara thing you've ever done."
"I want to die."
"You can't. You have pilates with me on Tuesday."
I groaned. My appetite was gone, murdered by shame. And jealousy. And a little bit of garlic rice that refused to be dramatic with me.
-
That night, I stayed in my room like a recluse. I rejected Netflix. I rejected skincare. I even rejected my own reflection.
Cairo never messaged.
Never checked in.
Not even a 'good luck with your emotional spiral' emoji.
I wanted to delete him from my phone. Actually, I did.
But then i remembered i'd only memorized the plate number of his car out of spite and had zero chance of ever re-adding his contact manually.
So i restored it.
At exactly 10:21PM, there was a knock at my door.
Three soft knocks.
Then a pause.
Then two more.
A pattern. Like code. Like him.
I didn't answer immediately. I just stood there on the other side of the door, forehead pressed against the cool wood like i was in a suspense thriller and the killer was also my situationship.
"Elara," Cairo's voice was calm. Not pleading. Not urgent. Just… Cairo.
I opened the door, slowly, dramatically, like i'd rehearsed it for a student film.
And there he was.
Wearing a plain black hoodie, holding a takeout bag, and looking like a man who had no idea he'd just destroyed me.
"I brought food," he said.
I blinked. "You think you can bribe me with—what is that, lechon sisig?"
He handed it over anyway. "And ube cheesecake."
My hands betrayed me and accepted the bag. "This doesn't mean i forgive you."
He nodded. "Not asking you to."
I hated him for being calm. I hated that i wanted to cry and throw the bag at him and also kiss him all at once.
I stepped aside to let him in.
"Where were you all day?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light.
Like i didn't care.
Like i didn't almost move to Iceland earlier just to avoid ever seeing his mother again
.
He sat on the couch. "With my mom."
"Helping her with what, exactly? An emergency at a spa?"
"She had a business meeting with investors. I had to translate. She doesn't like speaking English under pressure."
"Oh," I said. Quiet. "And Nadine?"
"She wasn't there."
My head snapped up. "Then why'd you say she was the emergency?"
Cairo stared at me.
That unreadable gaze again.
The one that made me feel like i was standing in front of a locked vault with no key.
"Because i knew you'd do what you always do," he said, slowly. "Spiral. Stalk me. Assume the worst."
I blinked. "Excuse me, what?"
"You never ask, Elara. You just assume. Then explode. Then regret it."
He wasn't angry.
He wasn't even raising his voice.
Which was worse.
I sat down, the cheesecake between us like a treaty i wasn't ready to sign.
"I just…" My throat burned. "I just wanted to be important. Just once."
"You are."
"Not like that. Not like your mom important. Or priority list important. Just… I wanted to be the person you don't lie to."
He went quiet.
I didn't realize i was crying until i tasted salt.
"You always act like you don't care," I whispered. "And i'm always the clown. I'm always the dramatic one. The clingy one. The one who says too much, feels too much—"
"Elara."
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
"You think i don't care?" he said softly.
"You never show it."
His jaw clenched. "Because if i show it… I won't be able to stop."
My heart did something stupid.
Like hope.