Chapter 7

Veyra’s breath caught in her throat.

He looked down at his own hands resting on the table. “May mga gabi na katabi kita sa pagtulog, pero nakatitig lang ako sa kisame habang naiisip ko kung paano tayo noong una. I used to come home and tell you every stupid detail about my day. Magrereklamo ka tungkol sa bosses ko kahit hindi mo naman masyadong naiintindihan 'yung financial terms na sinasabi ko.”

Despite the heavy lump in her throat, a faint, nostalgic smile touched Veyra’s lips. “Because you never explained anything properly. Bigla-bigla ka na lang nagkukuwento sa gitna ng story.”

“Pero naiintindihan mo pa rin.”

“Sometimes.”

A faint shadow of a smile passed across Caelan’s face, but it evaporated as quickly as it came.

“I don't want to lose that,” he said quietly.

“Then don't,” Veyra urged, leaning in. “Don't walk away.”

He looked at her with a terrifying kind of clarity. “It's not that simple, Veyra.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don't know how to go back to who we were.”

Veyra stared at him across the small table. “We don't have to go back.”

Caelan frowned. “What?”

“We can't go back to the old version of us, Caelan. Broken na 'yon. We’ve outgrown it.” She gestured between them. “Maybe that's where we went wrong—subok tayo nang subok na ayusin 'yung lumang tayo, instead of admitting that we're not those same twenty-three-year-olds anymore.”

He listened intently, searching her face. “And what if I don't know how to build a new version?”

“Then we learn,” she said firmly. “Together.”

His eyes softened, filled with a heartbreaking hesitation. “Would you really want to try... after everything I said today?”

Veyra hesitated. She wanted to say yes immediately, but her professional brain—the part of her that analyzed hundreds of broken dynamics—forced her to be honest.

“I don't know,” she admitted softly. “Pero gusto kong subukan. I need you to stop making big decisions alone.”

“I will.”

“I need you to tell me when you're unhappy, before it turns into resentment.”

“I will.”

“And I need you to stop treating me like I'm made of glass, Caelan.”

Caelan nodded slowly. “I can do that.”

“Can you really?”

“Yes.”

She looked into his eyes. He sounded completely certain—so steady, so grounded. And for some reason, that certainty scared her more than his hesitation.

“Then why does this still feel like a breakup?” Veyra whispered.

Caelan didn't answer.

Because deep down, they both knew the truth. Love was still very much alive in the room, hovering over the dining table. But so was exhaustion. So were three years of accumulated silence, missed chances, and emotional erosion.

Suddenly, Caelan’s phone vibrated against the table surface, its bright screen lighting up the dark wood.

He reached out to turn it face-down, but Veyra caught a glimpse of the banner notification before he could.

Coleen (Boardroom Ops): Sir, the revised Singapore portfolio draft is ready for review. Need your sign-off before 10 pm.

Veyra looked at the screen, then at him. “Work?”

“Yeah.”

“Go take it.”

“Hindi na. Later na lang.”

“Caelan, review 'yan for tonight. Go.”

“Sabi ko mamaya na—”

“Huwag ka nang mag-sacrifices ng responsibilidad mo para lang pasayahin ako!”

Veyra’s tone sharpened instantly. “That’s literally what brought us here!”

Caelan stopped, staring at her. A cold shift passed over his face. “See? That's what I mean.”

Veyra frowned. “What?”

“You're pushing me away again,” he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous quiet. “Tinutulak mo ako kasi iniisip mo 'yon ang kailangan ko. You're taking charge of what’s best for me without asking what I actually want.

Veyra opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat.

Caelan stood up from the table. “I don't want you to make this easy for me, Veyra.”

“Then what do you want from me, Caelan?” she asked, her voice cracking as she stood up too.

He looked at her from across the table, his dark eyes burning with raw, conflicted emotion.

“I want you to fight for us.”

Her heart twisted violently. “That is so unfair!”

“Why?”

“Because you were the one who walked into my office asking for an exit strategy!” tears finally spilled over Veyra’s lashes, hot and fast. “You hired me to help you leave! At ngayon... gusto mo ako pa ang magmakaawa sa 'yo na manatili ka?”

“Alam ko,” Caelan whispered, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of her. “I know it’s unfair.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because I don't know what the hell I want anymore!”

A wet, shaky laugh escaped Veyra’s lips as she wiped her cheeks. “Well... congratulations, Mr. Virel. That's the first completely honest thing you've said to me all day.

Caelan reached out, his warm fingers closing gently around her hand.

Veyra didn't pull away. She couldn't. His grip was familiar, anchoring her to the three years they had shared. They stood there in the quiet kitchen, hands intertwined, neither of them brave enough to say the next word.

Buzz.

Veyra’s phone on the counter vibrated.

Caelan’s eyes flicked down to the screen. Veyra tried to turn it away, but the preview was too bright to miss.

Soren Vale: I hope I'm not bothering you, Veyra. Just wanted to say good night. And if your day was as exhausting as it looked... tomorrow's coffee is on me.

Caelan’s grip on her hand noticeably loosened.

He pulled his fingers back, stepping half a pace away. “Tomorrow's coffee?”

“He's just being friendly, Caelan. Client siya.”

Caelan offered a small, bitter nod, putting his hands into his pockets. “Right. Of course.”

“Caelan, don't do that—”

“It's fine, Veyra.”

“It isn't fine! I can see your face!”

“You don't owe me an explanation,” he said, his tone turning clinical, guarded, and distant—the exact tone he used in his corporate meetings. “You're free to have coffee with whoever you want.”

Veyra stared at him, hurt flushing through her chest. “Don't do that. Don't act all mature and unbothered when I know you're angry.”

A sad, hollow smile crossed Caelan’s face. “Mapang-asar din, 'no? I asked for space, but I hate seeing you move on.”

He turned toward the inner hallway leading to the bedrooms.

“Saan ka pupunta?” Veyra called out.

“Work. Matutulog na ako after. I have an early flight review tomorrow.”

“Maaga pa.”

He stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking back at her over his shoulder.

“Unless... gusto mo nang umalis ako ngayong gabi?”

The question hung between them, heavy, sharp, and decisive.

Veyra looked at him, at the man she loved, who looked like a stranger standing in their home. She felt the sudden, terrifying edge of the precipice they were standing on.

She slowly shook her head. “No. Don't leave tonight.”

Caelan gave a single nod. “Then I'll stay.”

He disappeared into the master bedroom, the door closing with a soft sound.

Veyra was left standing alone in the middle of the quiet kitchen.

Her phone buzzed once more on the granite counter. She picked it up with a trembling hand.

It was another message from Soren.

Soren Vale: I meant what I said earlier, Veyra. I don't think complicated means impossible. Rest well.

Veyra stared at the glowing words on her screen.

She turned her head, looking toward the dark hallway where Caelan had gone.

For the first time in her life, the thought of another man showing genuine interest in her didn't feel flattering or comforting.

It filled her with absolute terror.

Because somewhere between Caelan hiring her to plan his exit and Soren stepping into her present, Veyra realized she was facing a question no textbook or consultation had ever prepared her for:

What do you do when the person you are desperately trying to save... isn't even sure he wants to be saved anymore?