23

Ingrid opened her apartment door that Saturday with swollen eyes. Standing there was Pat, her cousin, looking visibly worried. He immediately came inside.

“I thought you were coming back tomorrow?” he asked.

After her outburst at Uncle Saulo’s birthday party, she didn’t let anyone stop her from going back to Manila. She had been furious, but at the same time, it felt like a thorn had been removed from her throat after finally saying everything she had long wanted to tell the people who had belittled her for so long. She just felt awful that she had said hurtful things to her mother, who still hadn’t spoken to her since.

“We were worried about you, you idiot,” her cousin said as he sat on the couch. “Dad already told me to follow you yesterday. He even scolded me for letting you travel alone.”

She sat beside him. “H-he’s not mad at me?”

“Doesn’t seem like it. You know my dad; he can be difficult to understand. But I noticed lately that he’s mellowed out. He doesn’t scold me as much. Sometimes he even calls just to check in and chat about random stuff. Maybe it’s his age—he’s sixty-eight now. I guess he finally accepted that his youngest son is gay. And maybe he realized that out of all three of his kids, I’m the one who really makes an effort to communicate with him despite my busy career.”

Ingrid felt a pang of envy. “You’re lucky. I never experienced that with Papa—not even once did he mellow out with me or Mama.”

“Speaking of your Mother Earth, she’s apparently so embarrassed by what you did,” said Pat. “She doesn’t want to leave the house. The neighbors are gossiping about the two of you.”

She scowled. “My same old mother.”

“And those two spiteful sisters? They’re spreading rumors that you might be doing drugs in Manila, which is why you had that outburst.”

“Oh, my God! Those two are shameless.”

“You’re telling me. But don’t worry—no one believes them. Oh, and your ex? He’s been asking me about you. It seems like your ex still hasn’t moved on, cousin. I mean, you’re way prettier than his girlfriend now.”

“I don’t care about that guy,” she said with a scowl.

“But, Ingrid! That scene of yours? Iconic. I should’ve recorded it—you could be trending by now.”

“You’re crazy. That was embarrassing. Look at my hair now…” Ingrid whimpered.

Her cousin tugged on her shoulder-length hair. She had cried over it all night.

“You’re insane, cutting your hair just to prove a point to your mom?”

“I must’ve had some alcohol in me. It gave me the courage.”

“Alcohol? What do you mean?” Pat asked, puzzled.

“The punch! I drank so much. I got triggered by Ailyn and Almira.”

“Oh, silly! There was no alcohol in the punch. You know Papa doesn’t serve alcohol to women. When has he ever served you guys drinks?”

“W-what?” She spoke in shock. “So that was just juice and fruits?”

Pat nodded. “Yup, yup. You weren’t drunk, coz. You just went full beast mode.” He laughed hard. “Seriously, I’m still winded from you. It was like a movie scene. So award-worthy!”

“But I look hideous!” she cried again. “Look at my hair, Patrick—it’s a mess!”

“Well, duh. You chopped it off yourself. Of course, it looks bad—like you got into a fight with Edward Scissorhands. But is that a problem? Let’s fix it right now. Thank God we have RTA-connected salon experts in the country.” He stood and pulled her up.

“Come on, I got you.”

Ingrid kept telling herself she’d get used to it while she was at the office, constantly running her fingers through her hair.

She now had an inverted layered bob with side-swept bangs. According to Pat, it was the only way to save the hair she had murdered with kitchen shears. She even had new highlights in the colors mahogany and honey.

She almost cried again earlier when Cade teased her in the lobby, asking what barber she’d fought with and if she wanted to get revenge. That jerk. She wondered how he’d react if he knew the whole story behind her meltdown.

At around two in the afternoon, Ingrid saw Noah walking toward her, talking on his cellphone. He hadn’t been in the office all day due to a meeting at the country’s biggest TV network with Raffy.

She couldn’t quite read his facial expression when he approached her desk. He seemed a bit dazed as he ended the call and walked right next to her seat.

“Hey,” Noah greeted softly, studying her new hairstyle—but his gaze lingered on her eyes.

Strangely, Ingrid felt like she had an ally. But unlike Pat, whom she cried to, Noah was the kind of ally whose presence made her chest rise with strength. Maybe it was pride—she didn’t want him to see her weak, didn’t want him to pity her.

And besides, Ally? Really? She had yelled at two longtime enemies and left them speechless all by herself. She didn’t need an ally. Crying to Pat about her hair was enough. And honestly, she was being overly dramatic—she did this to herself.

She swallowed and realized she hadn’t greeted her boss yet. “G-good afternoon, Sir,” she said quietly.

Now she saw the worry on his face.

“Are you all right, Miss Delgado?” he asked with a frown.

“Yes, Sir.” She nodded, trying not to show any emotion. “I thought you wouldn’t drop by after your meeting.”

He gave a small smile. “I just wanted to see you, I guess.”

She avoided his gaze. “The papers that need to be signed by Wednesday are on your desk.”

“Okay, thank you.” Noah walked to his office. Five minutes later, he called her through the intercom, asking her to meet him at a nearby coffee shop and to wait for him there. Before she could ask why, he had already ended the call. She decided to just follow the instructions.

Ingrid sat at a corner table in the coffee shop, still unsure why she was summoned. Her boss hadn’t given any further instructions. She hadn’t been sitting for ten minutes when she saw Noah approaching. Before she could say anything, he asked her to order. She got a mocha latte and a croissant; he had black coffee and a Danish pastry.

“Tell me what happened,” he said as soon as the waitress left with their order.

Ingrid was stunned. “W-what do you mean—”

“Your eyes are swollen, and you seem uncomfortable with your new haircut. What happened, Ingrid?” Noah asked directly.

What the h*ll? Was she that transparent, or was this man just paying her far too much attention?

She flinched when he reached out and held her hand resting on the table. “You can tell me, sweetheart. It’s okay—I’ll listen,” he said gently.

She lowered her head. “I—I had a fight back home with my cousins,” she confessed.

He squeezed her hand as if urging her to open up and assuring her he’d listen.

And so Ingrid told him everything. She was proud of herself for not crying. Maybe she had no tears left, or maybe she just wanted to prove she wasn’t weak.

Noah reacted in various ways—he got angry, laughed, and even seemed amazed. She was amused that he seemed to like her meltdown.

“So yeah, I took it out on my poor hair and walked out,” she concluded.

“Your new hair looks good on you,” Noah said with admiration.

She blushed. “You think so?”

“Yes. You look prettier in it.”

“They say most men prefer long-haired women. I recently realized it might have something to do with ownership or possessiveness. Long hair is something men can grab and pull.”

“W-what?” he said, clearly offended. “I don’t know who these ‘most men’ are, but that’s ridiculous. Hair is just hair. And it’s your hair—why should anyone else control it?”

Ingrid sighed. “That’s why I cut it. One less reminder of how I’ve always submitted myself to men.”

“You see, that’s what I don’t get about women sometimes,” Noah said, baffled. “You ask for gender equality and empowerment, but many of you still hold onto outdated beliefs that only push men to be jerks.”

“That’s true,” she softly agreed. “And we’re the ones who bring each other down.”

“Have you heard what Eva Castro said about her cheating husband?”

She scoffed. Eva Castro was a singer under RTA, married to Brent, a member of an underground metal band. They had just married last year and were recently in the news.

“Yeah. She said it’s normal for men to cheat. She even bragged about winning Brent back from his mistress. For the record, Sir, I don’t agree with her. And you’re right—we women need to take a stand against men like my ex and Brent. The problem is, some women stay with the person who took their virginity even when they’re being abused. They believe no one will love them anymore if they’re not virgins.”

“Do you think that’s why Eva couldn’t leave Brent?”

“I don’t know. Just a thought. Brent was her first and only boyfriend.”

“Honestly, I don’t see why women’s virginity is such a big deal.”

She decided to be blunt. “As a man, don’t you prefer to have a girlfriend who’s still a virgin, especially if you’re planning to marry her? Doesn’t it boost your ego knowing you’re the first one, that a woman ‘gifts’ her chastity to you?”

Noah frowned. “What kind of question is that?” he said, seemingly offended.

She shrugged. “Just wondering. I know a lot of guys who—

“I’m not one of them,” Noah cut her off. “And you are not an object to be gifted. Virginity is just a small part of a woman—why would I regret not being the first? What matters to me is being the last, the one she chooses to share her life with.”

Ingrid was speechless. She almost clapped.

“Besides, a guy who sleeps around has no right to demand a virgin bride,” he added. “That’s just pure hypocrisy. Your body is yours—do what you want with it. Virginity is physical, nothing more. It doesn’t define you. Don’t let society shame you for not being a virgin anymore. And most of all, don’t ever give your heart to a man who would judge you for it.”

“Sir,” Ingrid said. “Will you marry me?” she joked.

Noah laughed. “Careful—I might take that seriously,” he teased back.

She finally laughed. “Wow. This is the first time I’ve really smiled since I got back. Thank you for listening. I really needed that.”

“Anytime, Ingrid. And thank you for talking to me.”

They didn’t return to RTA. Noah offered to take her home. It was raining, and she didn’t have an umbrella. He walked her to her apartment door under the cover of his sports jacket.

“Your jacket’s all wet now, Sir,” Ingrid said at the door.

“It’s fine.”

“You’re soaking too,” she said, wiping his face. “Looks like you only shielded me with it.”

She slowly stopped wiping when she realized he was just staring at her. His gaze was intense, filled with unspoken meaning. And she understood it all too well. The air between them grew heavy.

She let out an awkward laugh.

“What?” Noah asked with a smile.

“Usually, in scenes like this, I’d invite you in for coffee. But we just came from a coffee shop.”

“We can drink something else. Maybe you’ve got some ginger tea?” He joked—or was it really a joke? His eyes said otherwise.

Without a word, she took her keys out of her bag, but her hands were trembling from the cold rain, and she couldn’t fit them in the lock.

Was it just the rain causing her to shake? She didn’t feel cold—she felt the opposite.

“Let me,” Noah said, taking the keys and unlocking the door for her.

He let her go in first. As soon as the door closed, their lips met. She dropped her bag on the floor and pressed her body against his, sharing a wet, smacking kiss.

God, she missed this. Ingrid had longed for this—and not just the kiss. She wanted more. She didn’t want to hold back anymore.

When she slid her tongue into his mouth, he gently pulled away.

She looked at him, confused and frustrated. “I swear to God, if you don’t finish this, I’ll punch you. I don’t even care if you terminate my employment,” she said darkly.

Noah laughed, amused by her boldness.

“Sweetheart, if you’re doing this because you’re upset—”

“No, no,” she said firmly. She had already thrown all hesitation to the wind. “Can’t you feel it? I’m doing this because I want you too,” she declared.

Noah didn’t seem surprised. Instead, his eyes blazed with desire.

She gathered all her courage. Ingrid knew this was her chance—and she didn’t want to miss it. “You said this is my body, that I can do what I want with it. Well, there’s only one thing my body wants—you. I need you to f*ck me, Sir Noah.”