A wave of self-consciousness washed over me as I sat in the jeepney, the too-short hem of my dress a constant reminder of my vulnerability. Cramped between strangers, mostly men, I couldn't shake the feeling of being on display. We were headed to Jeneel's birthday party, an event that promised a world of extravagance I barely knew. I'd already caught the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror, a lingering look that made me shift uncomfortably.
"Hey, are we almost there?" I asked Gael, my cousin, my voice laced with barely suppressed impatience. She was lost in the meticulous application of her makeup, seemingly oblivious to my mounting anxiety. A quick glance out the window, and she was back to her reflection. "Almost. What's the big rush?" She shoved her cosmetics back into her overflowing bag. "Don't forget the gift, okay? You'd forget your own name if you could." I clutched the brightly wrapped present a little tighter, a silent reassurance.
Finally, the jeepney screeched to a halt in front of a massive, ornate gate. I practically leaped out, grateful for the escape. A quick swipe of lipstick – a nervous habit – and I slung my bag over my shoulder. 5:30 PM. Thirty minutes late. "Wow, this place is something else," I murmured, taking in the manicured lawns and imposing architecture as we were waved through by the security guard. "The last time I was here, the gate wasn't nearly this…fortified."
"Yeah, well, rich people are rich," Gael quipped, ever the pragmatist. "They've got the money to flaunt it." Stepping into the Main Hall was like entering another dimension. The air thrummed with wealth, an almost palpable aura of privilege that made me feel instantly out of place.
"This is so out of my league," Gael muttered, her usual confidence wavering. I couldn't help but agree. Despite being friends with Jeneel, I felt a pang of intimidation seeing the well-heeled guests, their designer clothes radiating an unspoken price. Oh, to be born with a silver spoon. Spotting Jeneel across the crowded room, we made our way over, offering our gift and belated birthday wishes. She'd transformed. Thinner, fairer, almost ethereal. She looked stunning in her figure-hugging dress, a masterpiece of fabric and illusion. At least she carried it well.
"Oh my gosh, I've missed you guys so much!" she exclaimed, enveloping us in a hug. "We've missed you too! Look at you, all fancy and throwing this amazing party!" Gael gushed. "Who are all those people outside?" I asked, gesturing towards the line of luxury cars parked near the entrance. "Ah, those are Gary's friends and business partners. Don't worry, they're mostly harmless," she said with a dazzling smile.
"Speaking of the devil! Hey, future husband of my best friend!" Gael's shout cut through the chatter, drawing Gary's attention as he headed towards the stairs. I cringed, always embarrassed by her lack of tact. He turned, a smile spreading across his face as he recognized us. "Oh! Gael, long time no see!" He hugged her warmly. "Gianna!" He hugged me, too. It was hard to reconcile this polished, seemingly reformed man with the notorious playboy I remembered. In fairness, he seemed to have turned over a new leaf. Almost…innocent.
"Listen, Gary," Gael said, her voice dropping to a mock-serious tone, "you take care of our friend, and don't even think about messing her around, or I swear…" She left the threat hanging, earning a laugh from both Gary and Jeneel. "I know, Gael. I promise I won't repeat my past mistakes. That was five years ago, anyway," Gary said, his smile sincere. "Just making sure," Gael replied, her eyes narrowed.
"Anyway, girls, I need to mingle. Lots of guests to greet," Jeneel said, glancing around the room with a practiced eye. "Make yourselves at home. There's plenty of food, so help yourselves." With a final dazzling smile, she left us to navigate the party on our own. We found an empty table, directed by a silent maid, and settled in. The buffet was a feast for the eyes, a decadent spread that both tempted and intimidated. I wanted to dive headfirst into the lechon, but the thought of all those judging eyes held me back. I settled for a small plate, mindful of my figure and the constricting dress.
"I'm just going to the restroom," I told Gael, pushing back my chair. Thankfully, it was still in the same spot at the end of the hall. The surroundings had probably been updated, but the layout remained familiar. I hadn't even reached the door when I caught sight of a familiar figure in the mirror. My steps faltered. Paulo. My ex. I froze, unsure whether to advance or retreat. It had been four years, but the pain was still so raw. Every time I saw him, the memories of that night came flooding back, the betrayal a fresh wound.
Unbidden, tears pricked at my eyes as I watched him, my ex, kissing someone in the restroom. My fists clenched. I wanted to run, to escape the suffocating memories, but my feet were rooted to the spot. Suddenly, they broke apart as his phone rang. As they moved to leave, I ducked behind a potted plant, seeking refuge in the shadows. I watched him walk away, but then I noticed someone else, a man watching me with an unreadable expression.
Francis? What was he doing here?
Paulo approached Francis and said something, but Francis's attention was fixed on me. I quickly wiped away my tears, hoping he hadn't noticed my distress, and resolved to leave this place. I found myself crying in the backyard, clutching a glass of stolen wine. How could I have forgotten that Paulo was friends with Jeneel? Of course he'd be here. Why did it still affect me so deeply? It was over. Get a grip, self. You're pathetic.
"Hey." The unexpected voice startled me. I was hidden in the most secluded corner of the garden. Who knew I was here? I turned to face him, surprised once again. It was Francis. What was he doing here? Why was he invited? "What are you doing here, Sir?" I blurted out, the question escaping before I could stop it.
"Is it that surprising? I was invited, of course," he replied, stepping closer and leaning against the wall. "Who in their right mind would invite you? I didn't even know you were friends with Jeneel." I didn't seem to be able to filter my words. "Mr. Gary is one of our new investors, remember?" he said, his tone laced with amusement.
I frowned, trying to recall the details. How had I forgotten that? "Oh," was all I managed to say.
I straightened up, pushing away from the wall. "I'm leaving," I announced. But I'd barely taken a step when I stumbled, nearly falling. Francis caught my arm, steadying me. "Sorry. My fault," I mumbled, the words tumbling out. I felt a need to apologize, even though I wasn't sure why. "It really is my fault," I added, my voice barely audible. "You're drunk," he stated flatly. I looked up at him, startled. "Me?" I asked, pointing to myself. "Drunk? No way, Sir," I protested weakly.
"Where's Gael? Maybe you should go home," he suggested. "Not yet. I don't want to. I can handle it." I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. "I can handle it." My voice broke, and tears welled up, spilling down my cheeks. "I'll take you home." He reached for my arm, but I jerked away, recoiling from his touch. "What? I said I can handle it! What don't you understand?" I turned to face him, my voice rising. "I always have to handle things! It's always my fault anyway! You wouldn't understand. You're all the same!" I poked him hard, causing him to stumble back.
"You're all the same!" I repeated, jabbing him again. I knew I was being unfair, but he just stood there, letting me vent my anger. "Do you really hate him?" he asked suddenly, his voice quiet. I stopped, surprised by the question. He looked serious. "Then make him realize he made a mistake when he hurt you," he continued, as if he somehow understood the depth of my pain. "I-I can't," I whispered, admitting my weakness. "It's because you're letting your emotions decide. Go now," he said, gesturing towards the house. "Make him regret it." I looked in the direction he indicated, my heart pounding.
I wanted to do what he said, to confront Paulo, to make him pay. But I couldn't. The fear was too strong.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked, a hint of impatience in his voice. I looked down at my feet and slowly shook my head. "You're weak," he said, his words cutting deep. "I-I... I can't," I repeated, my voice trembling. "Very unprofessional," he commented dryly. I glared at him, my anger flaring. "You don't know anything," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "Move!" I pushed past him and stormed off.
I went back inside, searching for Gael.
"I'm going home," I announced, not waiting for her response. "Hey, where are you going? The party's not over!" she called after me. But fate seemed determined to mock me. As I stepped outside, I came face to face with Paulo.
"Gianna?" he said, recognizing me. I saw his Adam's apple bob nervously. "Gianna, I think we should go home," Gael said, taking my hand and pulling me away. As we rode away in the jeepney, I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. I sobbed, my cousin offering what comfort she could. I knew people were staring, but I was beyond caring.
"Are you okay? Do you want me to stay with you?" Gael asked, her voice full of worry. We reached my apartment. The tears had stopped, but I felt drained, empty. Paulo's presence had ripped open old wounds. The trauma he'd inflicted still lingered, a shadow that haunted my every step.
I was so traumatized by what he did to me. That's why until now I still can't see or hear his voice. It all comes back. The pain. Everything he did.
I was traumatized to the point that I almost lost my life. I don't know how he manipulated me to repeatedly forgive him despite everything. He destroyed me and my whole being. Not just mentally but physically as well. I experienced being slapped by him, but because I loved him then I endured it. That's why now every time I see him I feel like my trauma is coming back.
"I'm okay. I'm just going to sleep," I said, closing the door. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't changed. He was still the man I'd loved, the man I thought I'd spend my life with.
"I don't want to anymore, Gianna. I'm tired of you."
The words echoed in my mind, and fresh tears streamed down my face as I remembered that night, his final words before leaving me in the rain. I sat up and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I wiped away the endless tears. "It's okay. He doesn't even know what happened to you after he left you that night. It's okay," I whispered to myself. It's okay, Gianna. I'll be content if I never see him again.
Because I really don't want to anymore. My heart might not be able to handle it.