Chapter 6

Ang katahimikan sa loob ng study ay parang bomba na anumang segundo ay pwedeng sumabog.

Federico remained completely rooted to the doorway, his right hand still frozen on the polished brass handle. His gaze darted frantically from Jarima’s pale, wide-eyed face on the plush leather couch to the President, who was slowly straightening his posture with an unbothered, lethal composure.

The dark blue Security Council folder in Federico’s left hand began to tremble—just a microscopic tremor, pero sapat na iyon para mapansin ng mabilis at matalas na mata ni Rafa.

"Jarima?" Federico’s voice lacked its usual smooth, charming warmth. It was flat, laced with a sudden, suffocating bewilderment. "What... what are you doing here in the residence?"

Jarima felt the oxygen completely abandon her lungs. Her fingers dug so deep into the canvas of her tote bag na halos maputol ang mga kuko niya. Her mind scrambled to build a logical explanation—anything that wouldn't sound like national treason or a cheap afternoon drama—pero ang dila niya ay parang napako sa bubong ng kanyang bibig.

"Federico, I—"

"Miss Carvajal was just leaving," Rafa interrupted smoothly, taking a slow step to position himself directly between Federico’s line of sight and the couch. He unhurriedly buttoned his suit jacket, restoring his authoritative, unyielding presidential aura as if he hadn't just been leaning inches away from her face a split second ago. "She came to personally express her gratitude for the swift resolution of her banking issue. Standard public relations, Senior Advisor."

Federico’s gaze shifted from Jarima to the President. His jaw tightened instantly, a visible muscle ticking beneath his cheek.

Slowly, Federico’s eyes scanned the small glass table between the couches.

Nakatayo doon ang dalawang magkaparehong porcelain coffee cups, single-origin coffee filter drips, and a plate with a half-eaten almond pastry. At sa gilid ng mesa, malapit sa kamay ni Jarima, ay ang gintong VIP security pass na galing sa mismong mesa ni Rafa.

Standard public relations didn't involve private Ethiopian drip coffee brewed by the Head of State inside the private executive residence. Federico knew the Palace protocols better than anyone in the country. He knew for a fact na kahit ang mga matataas na senador ay hindi basta-bastang pinapapasok sa kwartong ito.

"Public relations," Federico repeated softly, the words tasting like absolute poison on his tongue. He looked back at Jarima, his eyes searching hers with a quiet, deeply wounded confusion na nagdulot ng matinding kirot sa dibdib ng dalaga. "I see."

"Federico, 'di kasi gano'n—" Jarima tried to stand up, her knees shaking violently, pero pino at mabilis na itinaas ni Rafa ang kanyang kamay upang pigilan ang pagsasalita ng dalaga.

"The driver is waiting at the West Wing exit to take you home, Miss Carvajal," Rafa said, his baritone voice dropping into that formal, unyielding tone reserved for national press briefings. "Thank you for your time."

Jarima looked between the two men. Rafa’s face was an impenetrable wall of cool, arrogant confidence, while Federico’s usual bright, welcoming demeanor had completely shut down into an icy, professional mask.

Pakiramdam ni Jarima ay gusto na niyang lamunin ng lupa sa matinding kahiyaan. Without another word, she grabbed her bag, ducked her head, and practically sprinted past Federico through the open double doors. She didn't look back, pero ramdam na ramdam niya ang mga tingin ni Federico na nakatatak sa kanyang likod hanggang sa lumagitik ang pagsasara ng mabigat na pintong kahoy.

The moment the heavy doors clicked fully shut, sealing the quiet residence off from the rest of the Palace, the atmosphere instantly exploded into a suffocating pressure.

Federico didn't move from the doorway for five long seconds. Then, with a slow, deliberate aggression, he slammed the Security Council folder onto the desk with a deafening sound that echoed off the high ceilings.

"You denied my leave on Friday," Federico said, his voice was dropping low with every single trace of formal protocol. "Dahil sa kanya?"

Rafa slowly walked over to his desk, picking up a silver pen without even batting an eye. "I denied your leave because the Security Council review is three days behind schedule, Senior Advisor Davino."

Federico let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, taking three sharp steps toward the President's desk. "Don't do this, Rafa. Don't pull rank on me! I’ve known you since law school. Don't sit there and play the dutiful Head of State when you literally used a presidential escort vehicle just to bring a civilian freelancer into your private study!"

Rafa stopped clicking his pen. Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes locking onto Federico’s with a cold, competitive fire na halos magpagapang ng lamig sa buong silid.

"She’s not just a civilian freelancer, Fed," Rafa stated, leaning both palms flat on the surface of his desk, towering over the furniture. "She’s the woman you’ve been gushing about all morning. And I wanted to see what kind of woman could make my top strategist lose his focus."

"And what did you see?" Federico shot back, his fists clenching tightly at his sides, his breathing heavy and uneven. "A toy? A game to pass the time between executive orders? She’s a normal, hardworking woman, Rafa! She doesn't belong in your political games!"

"I don't play games with people, Federico," Rafa’s voice dropped into a pitch so deep and commanding na parang niyanig ang sahig ng silid. "And I certainly don't treat her like a toy. Talk to me with respect in this office."

Federico leaned across the desk, facing the President eye-to-eye, refusing to back down. "Then respect my personal life! You knew I like her! And the moment my back was turned, pinasundo mo siya agad dito sa Palasyo? What was that about, Rafa? Were you trying to flex your power over her... or over me?"

For the first time in their lives, ngayon lang sila nagkaroon ng ganitong tensyon. Dahil sa babae.

A dangerous, quiet smirk suddenly tugged at the corner of Rafa’s lips—a smirk that mixed pure arrogance with a terrifying level of honesty.

"If I wanted to flex my power, Federico, I wouldn't have brewed her coffee myself," Rafa murmured smoothly, his eyes flashing with absolute conviction. "I met her, Fed. And whether you like it or not, she didn't look at me like I was the President. She looked at me like I was a man."

Federico stared at his best friend, his chest heaving as the harsh reality sunk in. This wasn't just a simple misunderstanding. This was a direct, unapologetic declaration of war from the most powerful man in the country.

"She’s not a territory for you to conquer, Mr. President," Federico said coldly, taking a step back and straightening his suit jacket with a sharp tug. "I met her first. And I'm not backing down just because you wear the seal of the Republic."

"Then don't back down," Rafa replied, unbothered, sitting back down on his leather chair and opening the Security Council folder. "Now, review these documents."

By seven in the evening, Jarima was sitting on the cold linoleum floor of her tiny studio apartment in Pasig.

The low hum of her old refrigerator and the distant rumble of the busy avenue outside were the only sounds filling the dim room. Her half-finished graphic design layout for a local milk tea brand glowing mockingly on her laptop screen, pero ang mga kamay niya ay nakatambay lang sa kanyang kandungan, totally devoid of energy.

On her small wooden coffee table sat an empty cup of cheap three-in-one coffee, a world away from the single-origin Ethiopian roast brewed by the President himself earlier for her.

Jarima buried her face in her knees, letting out a long, muffled scream of pure frustration.

"Nababaliw na 'yung buong gobyerno," she whimpered into her sweatpants, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Bakit ako? Bakit sa akin pa nangyari 'to? Apat na digit lang ang namali ko sa G****e! Hindi ko naman gustong kinukulit ako ng presidente ng Pilipinas! Kahit pa... kahit pa gwapo siya!"

She reached for her phone lying on the floor, dreading what she might see.

There was a fresh message from Federico sent an hour ago.

Federico: I'm sorry if I made things awkward earlier in the study. I was just surprised. I hope you got home safely, Jarima.

Jarima squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a heavy lump form in her throat. The message wasn't angry, which made it ten times worse. It was polite, gentle, and utterly distant. Ang dating maasikaso at masayahing lalaki na nagdala sa kanya ng kape sa park kanina ay parang tuluyan nang nagtayo ng mataas na pader sa pagitan nilang dalawa.

She typed five different replies—Federico, pakinggan mo ako, Aksidente lang 'yun, Si Rafa ang nagpumilit!—before deleting every single one of them. How could she explain it without causing a bigger rift between him and his boss?

They're bestfriends, now they're rivals, all because of a single call mistake na nagawa ni Jarima.

Before she could close her messaging app, her phone vibrated violently with a new, unsaved number na pamilyar na sa kaniya.

Rafa: Did you reach your apartment safely, Miss Carvajal?

Jarima’s heart slammed against her ribs. Seeing his number instantly ignited her feisty temper, completely washing away her initial fear.

Jarima: Mr. President, pakiusap po. Huwag niyo na po akong i-message. Nasira niyo na po 'yung araw ko, wag niyo na pong sirain pati buhay ko.

Nang mai-send iyon ni Jarima ay hindi pa rin siya makapaniwala na presidente ang kausap niya.

"Jusko, Jarima!" impit na reklamo niya sa sarili.

Across the city, inside the quiet, sprawling master bedroom of the Palace residence, Rafa was standing by the massive floor-to-ceiling glass window, dressed casually in gray sweatpants and a plain white shirt.

He read her reply, and a faint, genuine smile softened his sharp facial features. He took a sip of water, feeling an intoxicating, unfamiliar warmth in his chest. In a world full of yes-men, political strategists, and people walking on eggshells around him, Jarima was the only person who had the utter nerve to tell him to back off.

He typed back effortlessly.

Rafa: I didn't ruin your life, Jarima. I just made it more interesting. Sleep well. Your big day is in a few days.