MY AMAZING DIXAL

"Wow!” Flora Amor gasped the moment she stepped inside the old house, her eyes widened at the sight of the tiled floor.

Her parted lips turned to Dixal.

He burst into laughter, mischievously pinching her nose.

“You like it?” His grin stretched from ear to ear.

She nodded, speechless at the wonder filling her eyes.

The house was small, yes—but complete. Her gaze swept across the room. From the door, the modestly sized living area welcomed her. A long sofa stood opposite an oval fiberglass center table, where a vase of roses in mixed colors bloomed brightly.

On the right, a dining table stood, with the kitchen and bathroom tucked further inside. Not far from the dining space spiraled a staircase leading to the mezzanine. There, she caught sight of a wide bed, two bookshelves lined against the wall, a desk with a chair in front of it, a large closet, and a mounted smart TV with a small stand below it holding the remote.

“Wow! Your house is actually beautiful!” she exclaimed again.

“Where’s your family?” she asked curiously, already climbing the stairs toward his bed.

He chuckled, amused at her boldness.

“I live here alone,” he replied, unable to suppress his smile as he followed her.

“Woah, the bed’s so soft!” she said, flopping down and rolling against the mattress.

“This place is amazing,” she breathed in awe.

She bounced up again, exploring. She peeked into the kitchen, opened the bathroom door, and even pulled at the fridge.

“You’ve got so much food.”

Dixal chuckled lightly, hands tucked casually into his pockets as he trailed after her.

“You have such a nice house,” she said, giggling.

“This is the house I want us to live in when we’re married,” he said simply.

She turned to him, startled.

“Dixal, don’t you think I'm not good enough for you? You’re still so young, yet you already have a house of your own. While, my family only rents.” Her smile faded.

He pulled his hands from his pockets and clasped hers gently.

“Once you graduate, you’ll buy your own house for your family. But here—here is where we’ll live and build ours.”

Her chest tightened, gloom clouded her face. The memory of what happened earlier weighed down on her again.

“What do you want for dinner? I’ll cook,” he offered suddenly, pulled open the fridge.

“You can cook?” she asked, disbelief written on her face.

He nodded, smiling.

“All right. I want eggplant omelet.”

He burst out laughing.

In the end, Dixal cooked chicken wings in Sprite, pork menudo, and the eggplant omelete she requested.

“Why do you even know how to cook?” she asked while they ate.

“I hate being serv—” He coughed, cutting himself off.

“Ah—because it was just me and my brother. Our father’s gone. Our grandfather’s strict—he never wanted us relying on Mama for everything. And Mama’s always busy with work. So we had to learn to cook and be independent.”

She nodded, listening intently.

“So you have a brother,” she murmured.

He nodded again.

“Dixal… are you rich?” she asked casually.

He lifted his gaze, meeting hers.

“My grandfather’s the only one with money,” he replied briefly, then grabbed another chicken wing.

She let the answer drop, continuing her meal.

“Do you actually like eggplant?” he asked.

“Not really. But Mama always cooked it because we had a farm full of eggplants in Bicol. My siblings hated it, so I was forced to eat them. Until I got used to it. Now, I can’t really eat a meal unless there’s eggplant.” She sighed, lowering her gaze as memories of her siblings’ hurtful words flashed back.

“If not eggplant, what’s your favorite dish then?” he asked curiously.

Her lips curved slightly. "Shrimp. But it’s too expensive, so I just stopped dreaming about it.”

His eyes lingered on her face as she spoke.

“You’re from Bicol?” he asked after sipping water.

She nodded and mimicked him, taking a sip too.

“Back in high school, we lived in Bicol. Papa worked construction here in Manila, only home on weekends. We only moved to Manila when I started college. But just when we finally settled here, Papa quit construction and bought a stall in the market. He sold fish every day and only came home once a week.”

Her throat tightened. A small sniffle escaped her.

He listened in silence, confusion flickering across his face, though he didn’t press further.

She really doesn’t know anything? he wondered quietly to himself.

“You want juice?” he asked softly when he noticed her sudden quiet.

.................

“DIXAL, do you really love me?” she asked later as they sat in the living room.

She was curled on the sofa, while he lay across her lap, gazing up at her. She was wearing his loose T-shirt and boxers, which he had lent her after she freshened up earlier.

He reached up and pressed a finger to her lips, nodding.

“You won’t leave me for someone better?” she asked again.

He studied her seriously.

“There’s nothing extraordinary about you, really,” he began.

Her face fell slightly, but he continued, his voice low. “You’re just beautiful. But to my heart… you’re the most precious diamond in this world. No—more than that.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to its back.

Her cheeks burned, and she giggled.

“There are things in this world words can’t explain. Only our hearts can feel them.” His voice carried a rare solemnity.

Her palm brushed his cheek tenderly.

“Amor, will you leave me someday?” he asked, eyes searching hers.

“Yes—if you replace me with someone else.” She smirked faintly.

He turned away with a pout.

“You’re cruel.”

She laughed, leaning against him as he sat up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She rested her head against his chest.

“Amor, don’t leave me. I can give you anything you want—if only you’ll stay,” he whispered, voice earnest.

She lifted her head to look at him deeply.

“Didn’t I promise I wouldn’t leave you?”

“But what if—”

“Shhh.” She pressed her finger to his lips.

“I may only be seventeen, but I know how to keep a promise,” she said firmly, brushing a soft kiss against his lips.

He closed his eyes, returning her kiss. Once, twice—light, fleeting—before his lips pressed harder, until she found herself pushed back gently against the sofa.

Her heart raced. She stared up at him.

“Amor…” His voice had changed again.

“Just a kiss?” she teased.

“You started it,” he muttered, almost sulking.

She giggled and pulled him down by the neck, kissing him again. His lips crushed hers with passion—fierce, burning, but threaded with love.

“Amor…” he murmured into her mouth.

She answered with a soft moan.

His mouth trailed down her neck, tugging her shirt upward before his lips found the swell of her chest.

Her breath hitched. “Amooor…”

He unclasped her bra, his tongue teasing one nipple while his hand kneaded the other. She arched against him, a loud moan breaking free.

“Amor… I can’t stop,” he gasped, breath ragged.

No—she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted more, wanted to drown in the fire of his kisses.

Climbing onto his lap, she kissed him hungrily, her arms looped around his neck.

“Touch me… please,” she whispered, pulling off her shirt.

His mouth fell open, eyes dark with desire as he stared at her bare skin. Twice he swallowed hard before bending to kiss her shoulder, then her breast, one hand squeezing, the other clutching her closer.

“Amor… I can’t stop now.”

“Yes, please… don’t stop,” she begged, pushing his head back down to her chest.

He laid her back down, sliding off her borrowed shorts. His trembling hand brushed between her thighs—then froze.

A strangled groan escaped him.

“You silly girl,” he muttered hoarsely before pulling her upright and crushing her to his chest.

“Please don’t do that again. Next time, I might not be able to stop myself.” His breath came in heavy gasps, his arms locking around her.

A chill shot through her veins. She shivered.

“Dixal… I’m cold.”

He quickly gathered the discarded clothes, dressed her like a child, then held her tightly again until her breathing steadied.

“I love you, Dixal,” she whispered into his chest.

“I love you more,” he answered.

The doorbell suddenly rang, startling them both to their feet.

“Stay here,” Dixal said, striding toward the door.

By the time he opened it, she had slipped up to the mezzanine.

“Are you out of your mind?” a man’s voice barked.

Dixal came back inside, scanning for her. His companion followed, face twisted with anger—until his eyes landed on her at the top of the stairs. He froze, stunned.

Dixal only smiled.

“Come here, sweetie.”

Embarrassed, she climbed down and clung shyly to his sleeve.

“This is Lemuel, my best friend. If you ever need anything from me, go to him. He knows all my moves,” Dixal introduced.

“Hello,” she murmured politely.

The man didn’t answer, only stared at her from head to toe.

“What shade of lipstick are you wearing?”

Confused, she glanced at Dixal, who shot his friend a glare.

“I’m just curious,” Lemuel said.

“I’m not wearing any lipstick,” she replied, blushing.

“Really?!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

She nodded, eyes downcast.

“What’s your makeup brand then?”

She glanced again at Dixal.

“Stop it, Lemuel,” Dixal warned, annoyed.

“I said I’m curious!” his friend shot back.

With a sigh, Dixal rubbed the back of his neck.

“I don’t wear makeup,” she said softly. “Not even powder. I just used Dixal’s soap earlier.” She pointed toward the bathroom.

“That face is natural?” Lemuel asked again, incredulous.

She turned helplessly to Dixal, cheeks flaming.

“One more word and I’ll punch you,” Dixal threatened.

Lemuel grabbed him by the arm, dragged him aside, but his voice still carried.

“No wonder you’re obsessed. She’s literally beautiful.”

Her cheeks burned hotter. Was it an insult—or admiration? She had never cared about her reflection before, never bothered with makeup or measurements. Why would she? None of it mattered for her studies. But now, she felt strangely self-conscious.

“Dixal, don’t tell me you’re letting her spend the night?” Lemuel demanded.

Her eyes widened. Night already? Where had the hours gone?

“I should go home,” she said quickly.

“You damn—” Dixal growled at his friend.

Lemuel averted his gaze, pretending not to hear.

“Get dressed. I’ll take you home,” Dixal told her firmly.

She obeyed, while behind her, Dixal shoved Lemuel out of the house. His friend had no choice but to wait outside.