22

Ingrid felt a mixture of sadness and happiness while riding in Noah's car as he drove her home. She had insisted earlier on commuting back on her own, but Noah had been more persistent and eventually convinced her to let him drive her.

Why did every moment with Noah outside of work have to be so enjoyable? Why did he have to be such a good conversationalist, and why did they get along so well? Why did he have to be so sweet and caring and gentle with her?

If only he had ignored her after what happened between them. If only he hadn't stayed for two days in her apartment. If only she hadn’t gotten to know him even more…

So many “if onlys.” But the truth was, she was also at fault for not being able to emotionally distance herself from her boss. Ingrid let herself enjoy his company. Was it her fault that this was the first time a man had ever treated her that way? And not just that—Noah had even shown her his vulnerabilities despite how embarrassing it must’ve been.

“Are you okay? You’re so quiet,” Noah asked.

“I’m really quiet by nature. I only talk a lot with you,” she replied with a short laugh.

“You should talk more, Ingrid. I like hearing you talk.”

“I like talking to you, too, Sir,” she admitted. “It feels like I can tell you everything. And you’re a really good listener.”

He glanced at her and smiled. “That’s very flattering, thank you.”

Whoever ends up being Noah’s girlfriend would be so lucky; that much was certain. He’d definitely treat her right. She wanted to tell him that, but she held back.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” she asked instead.

Through their conversations, she had learned that he was single, but she was only now curious enough to ask why.

“Is that surprising?” Noah replied with a small laugh.

“Actually, yes. With your good looks and kind nature, it’s kind of hard to imagine you’re not taken.” Not to mention the bonus of being talented in bed.

“I guess I haven’t found the right girl yet.”

“So, you’ve never had a girlfriend, ever?”

“I wouldn’t call the girls I dated my girlfriends.”

“Oh, so you’ve never been in love,” Ingrid concluded.

“You could say that, yes.”

“Wow,” she said softly, even more fascinated by him. “I wonder what it would take for you to fall in love.”

Noah shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. They say there’s no standard when it comes to love.”

“That part s*cks,” she agreed with a frown. “Because you can fall for the wrong person and get hurt in the process.”

“Yes, but in the end, it’s up to us if we stay or not. You should know—you were strong enough to leave your boyfriend before.”

Ingrid smiled and felt a sense of pride. This man really knew how to boost her self-esteem.

When the car finally stopped in front of her apartment complex, they fell silent. She felt the tension in the air, felt that Noah wanted to get out and go inside with her, but he was holding back.

Ingrid decided to break the silence. “Thank you for the lunch and the ride, Sir.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for spending time with me.”

“See you on Monday.”

“Right. You’re going home to your family tomorrow.”

She placed a hand on the car door handle, though it felt heavy to do so. She felt like a kid being told to leave a theme park early.

“I will miss you, Ingrid,” Noah said just before she could open the door.

A tight knot formed in her stomach. “D-don’t do this, please,” she pleaded without looking at him.

She gasped when Noah gently turned her face toward him. There was longing in his dark eyes when she looked into them.

“Can you at least let me kiss you?” he begged softly, brushing her cheek with his fingers.

Ingrid forced a laugh despite the thrill of his touch. “I—I guess that’s okay? Hopefully, a kiss isn’t against RTA’s company rules?” She joked in agreement.

Her boss claimed her lips in a staggering but tender kiss that left her craving more. They found it difficult to pull away. Each time Noah tried to break the kiss, she followed and brought him back. That kiss was more than proof of how much they needed each other, how intensely they desired to have s*x again.

When their tongues finally found each other, Noah cupped her face in his hands and gently pulled her away.

“Not a good idea, princess,” he said, breathless. “Not good at all,” he emphasized, clearly struggling.

“R-right,” she said, her chest pounding. “This is your fault,” she teased.

He laughed and kissed her on the forehead. “Okay, you can go now. And please, do me a favor. Don’t look back.”

As Ingrid stepped out of the car, she tried to obey Noah’s request even though she could still feel his gaze burning into her back. She took five steps away before lifting a hand and waving without turning around. That’s when his car finally drove away. And that’s when she looked back and watched his car disappear into the distance.

“You’ve been smiling like a fool for a while now,” Pat commented as they rode the bus home to their province.

“Huh?” she replied when he smacked her thigh.

“What’s going on with you, you crazy girl?” her cousin asked with a mix of concern and amusement as she just sat there, mouth agape. “You look like someone who’s been possessed.”

Ingrid laughed. “Nothing, okay?” As if she could tell him that she’d been thinking about everything that happened with Noah?

She didn’t want to think about it anymore, but she was bored during the long ride. She couldn’t fall asleep in her seat, so her mind wandered. And just like that, she thought of her boss again. She felt ridiculous because she actually missed him.

Sure, Ingrid had enjoyed his company, but was it really just the hot s*x? Yeah, she kept telling herself that. Because last night, she’d proven herself wrong when she tried to pleasure herself. Sure, she finished. But that was also when she realized that s*x wasn’t the only thing she wanted from him. Somehow, she had become emotionally attached to him even in such a short time, and she was forcing herself not to feel that way. It was easier to accept that she just enjoyed sleeping with Noah, and that’s why she longed for his presence. It would be easier to understand if it were all purely physical.

“Hmm, let me guess…” Pat said playfully, stroking his chin. “You’re happy because you’re going home and might see your ex again? Remember, he’s always invited to Papa’s birthday. He just didn’t make it last year because of a seminar.”

“W-what?” Ingrid’s eyes widened at her cousin. “Do you really think I still care for that son of a b*tch?” she snapped.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa! Relax, cuz. I was just joking, okay? No need to go beast mode.” He laughed. “And wow, what did I just hear? Look at you, dropping ‘son of a b*tch’ like a pro,” he teased.

Ingrid rolled her eyes at him and looked out the window of the bus.

But Pat wasn’t done. “Well, I guess that idiot’s not getting back with you anyway. I heard he has a girlfriend now. I forgot the name they gossiped to me, but I think she’s a teacher at some private school. Oh, wait—didn’t I already tell you that?”

“I don’t care, Patrick! Just stop it already.”

“Whoa, feisty! Doesn’t suit you, dummy!” He poked her side. “Hey, what have you been up to while alone in your apartment? You seem different lately. I can’t quite figure out what, but I know something’s changed.”

She looked at him. “W-what do you mean, different?”

Pat shrugged. “I dunno exactly. It’s like you’ve gone from blooming to fierce or something. Ingrid, don’t make me worry about you, okay?” He exaggeratedly widened his eyes and gaped at her from head to toe. “You’re not smoking mosquito coils or anything, are you?”

She elbowed him and burst into laughter. “You’re insane!”

Ingrid couldn’t deny that she still felt a slight sting in her chest when she saw her ex-boyfriend again at her Uncle Saulo’s birthday party. But she knew that pain didn’t come from sadness or regret that they had broken up. That pain was mixed with anger—anger at herself for allowing this man to do what he had done to her before.

She avoided him when Eric tried to talk to her. He had the nerve to approach her even while he was with his new girlfriend. She wouldn’t even be surprised if that woman was just like her before—submissive. That’s the only kind of woman Eric liked. He would never pursue women who had a mind of their own and were strong-willed.

When Ingrid saw Eric’s girlfriend, the woman looked away. It was like seeing herself in someone else, especially when she noticed how Eric seemed to be scolding her and how the woman looked like she was about to cry, unable to respond. Ingrid suddenly felt pity for her. She wanted to pull her away from Eric.

Later, Ingrid headed to the backyard where Pat was. She had always hated crowds. Even though she could say she was overcoming that, she would always dislike this particular kind of crowd.

“You dyed your hair,” noted Ailyn, the daughter of her father’s cousin. “Good thing it’s not virgin hair anymore,” she added, emphasizing the word “virgin.” She was one of those who spread rumors about Ingrid having had s*x with Eric back then.

“It’s called balayage ombré highlights,” Ingrid replied, deliberately making her relative sound ignorant.

“People from the city are different, huh? Always following trends even if they don’t suit them,” added Ailyn’s older sister, Almira. She was known for her sharp tongue and always had something unpleasant to say about Ingrid.

Ingrid stirred the punch bowl filled with red liquid and slices of assorted fruits.

“Well, it’s better to try something new, right? Unlike those who’ve been left behind by time. Worse, even their minds haven’t evolved,” she said with a sweet smile. “Stuck in the past—no change, no improvement. Outdated looks, outdated brains.

Almira’s mouth fell open, clearly not expecting her to respond. They were classmates from elementary to high school. Ingrid never understood why Almira disliked her. Pat once said it was because Ingrid was pretty and smart, and Almira was bitter about that. She used to ignore Almira because her parents always told her never to fight, especially not with relatives.

Ingrid’s decision to finally retaliate may have been a disastrous one, because after dinner, while they were sitting in the backyard, the sisters found the perfect chance to get back at her. It started when the husband of their neighbor, Merlie, angrily called on the phone, demanding she go home.

The sisters burst into loud laughter.

“She’s so scared,” Ailyn said as Merlie walked away from them. “And her husband’s not even here—he’s still in Saudi Arabia. What's more, what if he were actually around? She’d probably be dragged home by the hair.”

“She has no choice but to obey her strict husband,” Almira added. “That’s what happens when a man marries a woman who’s not a V. Of course, he can’t fully trust her.”

Ingrid drank more and more of the punch in sheer frustration. She knew the sisters weren’t just talking about Merlie now—they were indirectly targeting her.

“Right,” Ailyn added, raising her eyebrows. “Merlie had two boyfriends before she ended up with Ed. She even got pregnant and miscarried with the second one. She’s been used up. Loose already.”

“See? The ones who act all prim and proper—those are the ones who’ve actually been around,” Almira sneered. “Even now, she acts like she’s so demure. Like she hasn’t been enjoyed by many men already.”

“Such a pretender!” Ailyn laughed, her throat fully exposed from how loud she was.

Pat couldn’t take it anymore and finally butted in. “Wow, really? So just because a woman isn’t a virgin anymore and has had multiple boyfriends, that means she shouldn’t act with decency or modesty? That she’s wild now? That’s messed-up logic. And seriously, how old are you and still this ignorant? S*x doesn’t stretch out your lady parts, okay? Even I know that, though, and I’m gay.”

Ingrid chuckled.

“And just because a guy marries a non-virgin, he’s not supposed to trust her? What kind of backward thinking is that?” Pat added.

“Please explain what ‘logic’ means. They probably don’t get it. Might not even know how to spell it,” Ingrid muttered, but Pat heard her.

Pat laughed so hard, he slapped his own thigh.

But the sisters weren’t done. They kept throwing shade—either they were tipsy from the punch or just leveled-up versions of their usual mean selves. Maybe they were pissed off that their relatives were praising Ingrid, saying she looked even more beautiful now.

“Still, there’s something about marrying a virgin. It’s like a gift to the man—it makes him proud,” Ailyn said, looking directly at Ingrid. “That’s why Themarie hasn’t given it up to Eric. She wants to be a virgin bride to be sure.”

Almira patted her back. “Hey, I wasn’t a virgin when I married Franco, but at least he was my first and only. So he still fully trusts me because I gave it only to him. I’m not secondhand. No one else has used me but him.”

Ingrid stood and walked to the table where the punch bowl sat, filled her cup again, drank it straight, then refilled before going back to her seat.

“You’re unbelievable!” Pat shrieked, clutching both cheeks. “If virginity is the only measure of trust men have in you, that’s a red flag. Are you really okay with your worth being based on that alone? That if a woman isn’t a virgin anymore, she’s immediately dirty? A sl*t? Not worthy of trust? Like, what the actual f*ck?”

“Well, isn’t it true?” said Ailyn. “There’s a difference when a woman is pure and clean. She hasn’t been passed around.”

“Pure and clean? What are you, cooking oil?” Pat burst into laughter.

“So, what are you trying to say now?” Almira snapped at Pat. “Is it wrong that we want to have only one man in our lives? Is being a virgin now a bad thing?”

“Are you dumb? Did I ever say that? I know plenty of virgin brides, but they’re not like you—so d*mn judgmental!” Pat shot back. “I mean, come on. That’s all you can boast about to your husbands—that you were virgins when you married them. How pathetic. That’s the only thing you cling to when they’re jerks anyway. You treat them like saints deserving of your purity. You view your virginity as a sacred offering. What have they even given you in return, huh? For example, how many girls did Franco hurt before he married you? He even dated you all at the same time. Don’t you remember? One of them was even pregnant!”

“Pat,” Ingrid softly tried to stop him.

Almira stood up. “Wow! Now it’s personal? Are you involving my husband in this matter? He’s in Saudi Arabia now, far from all this.”

Pat stood too, hands on hips. “B*tch! You’ve been taking jabs at Ingrid all day. You pretended to talk about Merlie, but it was clear that you were actually talking about Ingrid. And you, Ailyn—rumor has it your husband is hitting on a student from the next town. Did you know? He’s not just giving her free rides in your jeep—he’s also riding her for free.”

“Watch your mouth; that’s just gossip,” Ailyn scowled. “We were just chatting; you’re the one who jumped in.”

“Oh, I know you two were conceived during a blackout—that’s why your souls are so d*mn dark!” Pat snapped.

“Patrick!” A booming voice called out. All four of them turned. It was Saulo, Pat’s father, walking to them. “You rarely come home, and now you’re starting fights?” he barked at his youngest son.

“Dad, I didn’t start—”

“Get inside the house! Now!” he shouted, pointing to the back door.

Pat stormed into the house, and Ingrid followed after finishing her punch. She caught up to him being scolded in the kitchen. Her mom and aunt stood silently nearby.

Ingrid boiled inside. That’s how it always was in the Delgado household. The men’s word was law, and no one could question them. Pat didn’t have the right to speak up because, according to them, he wasn’t a “real” man.

“Pat was just defending me, Uncle,” she said, stepping in to stop the scolding from her retired army general uncle.

Her mother and aunt both gasped, clearly shocked that she would talk back. But her uncle ignored her. When had anyone ever actually listened to what she had to say?

“Ingrid,” her mother tried to hush her, grabbing her arm.

She pulled away. “Mama, come on. I’m just telling the truth.” She looked at her sulking cousin. “Sorry, Pat. I should’ve defended myself earlier from those two b*tches,” she said loudly, knowing Ailyn and Almira were likely eavesdropping just outside the door.

“Let’s just go home,” her mother pleaded, but Ingrid refused.

She opened the kitchen door and pointed at the two sisters. “You want to hear what I really think of you? Here it goes… Wait, I’ll simplify it so you won’t get confused.” She gestured dramatically. “Yes, yes—you’re the lucky virgins your husbands married. You’re the gifts, the pure, the clean, the trustworthy wives. I’m so ashamed of myself because I’m not a virgin for the man I’ll marry.” She heard Pat clapping behind her.

“You go, coz! Slay them, b*tches!”

Fueled by that, Ingrid went all in. The sisters stared at her, too shocked to respond.

“You have the nerve to look down on other women? What else can you even brag about? You’re both lazy and stupid. Pfft! If I hadn’t helped you with your homework and projects, you probably wouldn’t have graduated. Especially you, Ailyn! You survived school by cheating off your classmates—and you even stole test papers from our teachers!”

“And you, Almira! Remember when you used to steal lunch money from our classmates in Grade 4? By the way, I was the one who reported you to our teacher. And clearly, you haven’t changed—you're still stealing money from your mom’s store until now! But who am I to judge, right? You were both virgins when your men married you, so that gives you automatic passes to heaven. Bravo! Congrats—you’re practically saints now.” She clapped sarcastically.

“Well, just make sure heaven is really where you're headed. Because if I see you in h*ll, I swear I’ll fan your flames.”

Pat screamed in delight. “Yes! Omigosh! Burn, b*tches, burn!”

Ingrid added, “Sorry, I’m just so ashamed compared to you. I’m not like you—so pure and clean. I didn’t place all my worth, dignity, and identity in my lady bits. My whole being isn’t defined by my v*gina.”

“Ingrid! For God’s sake!” Odessa yelled, panicking.

“That’s right, Ma! I said v*gina. V. G. N*.** Sue me! Maybe you should have a priest exorcise me.”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear any more filthy words from you!” Her mother screamed. Her Uncle Saulo shut the kitchen door.

Ingrid kept going. She now turned to her mother. “Even now, Ma? You’re still afraid of Papa? You still can’t speak your mind? What’s wrong with you? He’s gone! There’s no one left to fear.”

Odessa was now crying. Pat and his parents stood frozen. Even her uncle was speechless.

“I’m not afraid of your father,” her mother said firmly.

“Really? Then why haven’t you cut your hair since he died? Because he liked long hair on women, right? That’s why you never let me cut mine either. Well, guess what, Ma?” She walked to the kitchen counter and searched the drawers until she found a pair of kitchen shears.

“Ingrid!” Odessa screamed as she began cutting her hair.

Pat rushed toward her. “Girl, are you crazy? Stop it!” he shouted, trying to take the scissors from her. “Ingrid! Oh my God. Stop it. Stop!”

But Ingrid had made up her mind, her vision clouded. She kept cutting. With every snip, every strand falling to the floor, she felt like she was shedding the last chains tying her to everything that had ever been wrong with the life she grew up in.