Chapter 4

There are moments in your life that don’t end when they’re supposed to.

They stretch beyond their time, settle into your chest, and follow you into places they shouldn’t reach—quietly threading themselves into everything until you can’t tell if you’re still living in the present or stuck replaying something that already happened.

That night on the balcony should have ended when we stepped away from each other.

But it didn’t. It stayed—in the way I couldn’t sleep, in the way my thoughts refused to settle, in the way every silence felt heavier than it used to.

Because nothing happened. And somehow—that made everything worse.

“Elara, seriously—what is going on with you?”

Mira dropped her bag onto the chair across from me, her eyes immediately locking onto mine like she had been waiting all morning to ask that question.

I blinked, realizing I had been staring at my phone without actually reading anything.

“Nothing,” I said too quickly, locking the screen.

She didn’t even try to hide her disbelief.

“Nothing?” she repeated, leaning forward. “You’ve been spacing out for days. Hindi ka ganyan.”

“I’m just tired,” I muttered.

“You always say that when you don’t want to talk.”

There was no accusation in her voice—just certainty. And somehow, that made it harder to lie.

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again.

My heart reacted before I could stop it.

Mira noticed. Of course she did.

“Who’s that?” she asked casually, but her eyes were sharp.

“No one,” I said, placing my phone face down.

But it was too late. The damage was already there.

By the time we arrived at the Del Rosario estate that evening, I had already convinced myself to act normal.

To act like nothing changed. To act like I could still control this.

“Elara.”

I turned—and there he was. Lucas.

Standing a few steps away, his expression softened the moment he saw me, like my presence alone was enough to ease something in him.

“You made it,” he said, walking toward me.

“I said I would,” I replied, offering a small smile.

And this time—it wasn’t forced. Not completely. Because Lucas made it easy. That was the problem.

“You look… different tonight,” he said, a little hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should say it.

“Different how?” I asked.

He smiled lightly. “Mas… tahimik.”

I let out a small breath. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I think I just need to catch up.”

The way he said it—gentle, patient, not demanding anything—made something in my chest tighten.

“Then catch up,” I said softly.

For a moment, he just looked at me. Then he smiled again—this time, a little more certain.

“Walk with me?” he asked.

Simple. Harmless. Safe.

I nodded.

The garden was quieter than the rest of the house, the soft glow of lights making everything feel calmer, almost removed from the expectations waiting inside.

For a while, we walked in silence. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not like the silence I had with Adrian.

This was different. Easier.

“I know this isn’t how you imagined things would happen,” Lucas said after a while, his voice steady but careful.

I looked at him. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking ahead.

“But I want you to know… I’m not rushing you,” he continued. “I don’t expect you to feel something overnight.”

My steps slowed slightly. Because that mattered.

“I appreciate that,” I said quietly.

He nodded, then glanced at me briefly. “I just don’t want you to feel trapped.”

The word hit deeper than he probably intended.

“Do I look trapped?” I asked, half-teasing, half-serious.

He hesitated.

“Not trapped,” he said slowly. “But… not fully here either.”

That hit too close. Before I could respond—

“Elara!”

A new voice cut through the moment, bright and full of energy.

We both turned. A girl was walking toward us, her steps confident, her smile wide and unapologetically curious.

She stopped right in front of me, studying my face like she had been waiting to meet me.

“So you’re her,” she said.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

Lucas sighed softly. “Bella…”

“Hi!” she said quickly, extending her hand. “I’m Isabella. But you can call me Bella. I’m the sister you’ll probably either love or hate.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Elara,” I replied, shaking her hand.

“I know,” she grinned. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Something about the way she said it made me pause.

“From who?” I asked carefully.

She tilted her head slightly.

“My brothers,” she said.

Then, after a beat—

“Especially Adrian.”

My breath caught. Just slightly. But enough. Lucas didn’t seem to notice.

But Bella did. And the look she gave me after—subtle. Knowing. Dangerous.

“Don’t mind her,” Lucas said once Bella walked ahead of us, already distracted by something else.

“She’s… a lot,” he added.

“She seems nice,” I said.

“She is,” he nodded. “But she notices things.”

That made something in my chest tighten.

Because if there was anyone who could see through everything—it would be someone like her.

Dinner that night felt louder. Not because of the number of people—but because there were more eyes. More attention. More awareness.And somehow Bella always seemed to be watching.

Not in an obvious way. But enough. Enough to make me feel like I was being seen in ways I wasn’t ready for.

“Elara, right?”

I looked up to see Bella sitting across from me now, her chin resting lightly on her hand as she studied me.

“Yes?”

She smiled.

“You’re interesting.”

I blinked. “That’s… not usually the first thing people say.”

“I’m not a person,” she replied easily.

Lucas chuckled beside me. “That’s true.”

Bella’s gaze flickered briefly—past me. I didn’t need to turn to know who she was looking at.

“And you make things… more interesting,” she added.

The words were light. But the meaning wasn’t.

Later that night, as conversations shifted and people moved around, I found myself alone again. Or at least—I thought I was.

“You’re getting close to him.”

I stiffened.

Bella.

I turned slowly. She was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, her expression unreadable now.

“Excuse me?” I said carefully.

“Lucas,” she clarified. “You’re getting close.”

There was a pause. Then—

“And somehow… not close enough.”

My chest tightened.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” I said.

She smiled faintly. “I think you do.”

Silence stretched between us.

“And my kuya?” she added softly.

That made everything stop.

“What about him?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

She pushed herself off the wall, stepping closer—not threatening, but deliberate.

“You look at him like you’re trying not to,” she said.

My breath caught.

“And he looks at you like he already failed at that.”

I couldn’t speak. Because she was right. And she knew it.

“And that?” she continued, her voice lowering slightly, “that never ends well.”

She stepped back after that, like she hadn’t just shifted everything. Like she hadn’t just said what no one else dared to.

Leaving me there—with the truth I couldn’t deny anymore.