6: Text

A week after that goddamn humiliating drama, Riva thought things would finally settle. That maybe—just maybe—tahimik na uli ang mundo niya. Pero hindi. Life had other plans.

The past few days blurred like background noise, each morning marked by the sharp buzz of reality and the dull throb of disappointment. The tension clung to her skin like smoke, invisible but heavy. She tried to ignore the way silence echoed too loud in her apartment, tried to bury herself in work, errands, anything that felt routine. Anything that wasn't Gael.

But Gael was like glitter—messy, everywhere, and impossible to clean out completely. A part of her still itched at the thought of him, a phantom limb she couldn’t quite sever. She hated that.

One lazy Sunday morning, habang naka-upo siya sa gilid ng kama, half-awake, she received a message.

Unknown sender.

Wala man lang name, just a string of numbers she memorized in a heartbeat.

"Meet me at our favorite place."

She stared. Blinking. Twice.

Napakunot ang noo niya. Ano 'to, prank? Akala niya delayed message. Alam mo 'yung minsang nawawalan ng signal tapos pagbalik biglang sunod-sunod ang text? Baka ganun. Or baka na-hack si Gael. Maybe this was just some cruel trick played by the universe para guluhin siya.

But then another message came.

"Gunchi Palace. 4PM. Tomorrow."

"I’ll be waiting."

Putcha. Tangina talaga, Gael.

Her fingers hovered above her phone, eyes flicking from screen to wall. It felt like someone just dumped a bucket of cold water all over her spine. Her breath hitched. Ang kamay niyang kanina’y relax, ngayon ay nanginginig habang hawak ang phone.

What the hell is he trying to do? After all that happened, after breaking her—he still had the guts to call her out like this?

She was about to block him when—

“Is there anything wrong?”

Halos mapalundag siya. She looked up.

Luther.

Leaning against the doorway with that unreadable look on his face, calm but assessing. He held a cup of coffee, warm steam wafting from the top. His eyes narrowed just slightly, at parang may sinisilip sa kaluluwa niya.

“…wife?” he added, sipping casually.

The word hit her like a slap.

Wife. What a loaded word.

Halos mabitawan niya ang cellphone sa pagkagulat. She blinked fast, composing herself, pero hindi niya alam kung paano. Her lips parted but no words came. Tangina. Why did that word sting more than it should?

The silence stretched between them like a wire, one flick away from snapping.

She turned her face away, gulped, and whispered to herself,

“It is staged, Riva… kalma lang. Don’t tell me kinikilig ka sa bakla?”

She cleared her throat.

“N-nothing’s wrong… How a-about you? Is there… anything wrong?” She stammered like a teenager caught sneaking out.

Luther tilted his head slightly. His gaze remained. Pinag-aralan ang mukha niya, like he could decode the chaos inside her just by looking.

There was something too still about him—too quiet. Like the eye of a storm. Hindi mo alam kung kailan sasabog.

The tension was unbearable.

But he simply raised the cup.

“Want some coffee?”

Riva shook her head.

Then he nodded, turned, and walked away.

Pagkaalis niya, doon lang nakahinga si Riva ng maluwag. Pero sa loob niya—kulo.

Gunchi Palace. The so-called favorite place.

She shouldn’t have come. Alam niya 'yun. But here she was—wearing the wrong shoes, the wrong lipstick, and the wrong goddamn heart.

The streets leading up to the café hadn’t changed. Still paved with cobblestone, still smelling of roasted coffee and old memories. The wind brushed past her skin, whispering fragments of conversations they once had. Laughter. Secrets. Fights. Apologies.

Doon, sa ilalim ng ilaw, with that signature half-smile—nakatayo si Gael. Wearing white polo. Crisp. Clean. Almost holy.

If someone didn’t know better, they’d think angel siya. Bullshit. That man was anything but holy.

The sight hit her like a train. All those memories, bigla-biglang bumalik. Ang mga yakap, ang halakhak, the secrets whispered between kisses—lahat bumalik. And for a second, she forgot how to breathe.

"What went wrong?" bulong niya sa sarili.

They had magic. Passion. They had fire. Pero bakit nauwi sa divorce? Bakit ngayon, nandito sila, staring like strangers in a movie that forgot its happy ending?

“Mahal,” he said.

The word slithered into her chest like a knife.

Her knees weakened. Her fingers curled into fists. She didn’t know what to feel. Nalito siya. Nagalit. At kung ano-ano pa.

Before she could even take a step back, lumapit si Gael at hinawakan ang kamay niya.

She gasped. His touch was warm, familiar—but disgusting.

She yanked her hand back.

“Mahal? Are you fucking kidding me, Gael?”

“No… no… just—let me explain. Please. Just a minute.”

She took a step back.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!”

“Riva—listen to me. I—”

And then boom.

A fist flew out of nowhere.

Gael’s head jerked to the side. Tumalsik ang cellphone nito sa sahig. Blood trickled from his lip.

Luther.

He stood there. Cold. Calm. Dangerous.

“This is a warning, asshole. Touch my wife again and you’ll die twice.”

His tone didn’t rise. Walang sigaw. Just a quiet, bone-chilling calm. That kind of calm na mas delikado pa sa galit.

The entire café fell into an eerie silence. People froze, forks suspended mid-air, mouths agape.

Gael wiped the blood from his mouth, glaring.

“Pagsisisihan mo ‘to…”

“You’re not in the position to give threats,” sagot ni Luther. “Not when you already lost her.”

Riva didn’t know what to do.

She was paralyzed—by memories, by shock, by the quiet war happening right in front of her. Her eyes bounced between the man who destroyed her, and the man pretending to be her husband.

But which one really knew her?

Which one truly saw her?

The drive afterward was deathly silent.

Luther’s hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles pale under the streetlights. Riva sat beside him, stiff and tense, the seatbelt pressing against her chest like guilt she couldn’t shake off.

She could feel it.

That simmering madness beneath his stillness.

Parang… parang galit siya. Hindi lang sa nangyari. Kundi sa kanya. As if she’d committed a crime—and maybe, in a way, she had.

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Her fingers fidgeted on her lap. The weight of Luther’s silence bore down on her, heavier than Gael’s words ever did.

Then, suddenly, she noticed something.

They weren’t heading back to the apartment.

The roads twisted away from familiar paths, leading somewhere darker, quieter, farther.

Her brows furrowed.

“San tayo pupun—” si Riva.

Luther didn’t look at her. Eyes still on the road.

His voice, when it came, was ice.

“Kakain tayo.”