Chapter 5

There’s a certain kind of guilt that doesn’t come from doing something wrong—but from knowing you’re about to.

It lingers in the quiet moments, in the spaces between conversations, in the way your chest tightens even when everything around you looks perfectly fine.

And the worst part? You still don’t stop.

“Elara?”

Lucas’ voice pulled me back before I could drift too far into my thoughts again.

We were still in the garden, though most of the guests had already gone back inside. The lights cast a soft glow around us, making everything feel calmer than it actually was.

“Hmm?” I responded, turning to him.

He was looking at me—really looking this time. Not casually, not politely. There was something more intentional in the way his gaze lingered.

“You’ve been quiet again,” he said gently.

I let out a small breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he said quickly, stepping a little closer. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”

His tone was soft—reassuring in a way that made something in my chest ache.

Because he was trying. And I was… what? Confused? Distracted? Unfair?

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to pretend around me,” he added.

That word again. Pretend.

Parang lahat ng tao sa paligid ko yun ang sinasabi.

I gave him a small smile. “I’m not pretending.”

Not completely.

He studied me for a moment, like he was deciding whether to believe that or not. Then, instead of pushing, he smiled lightly and changed the subject.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends,” I said, trying to keep things light.

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

There was a short pause before he continued.

“What do you actually want?”

The question caught me off guard. Not because it was difficult—but because it was too simple. Too direct. Too honest.

“I mean…” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck slightly, “outside of all this. Outside of expectations. Family. Everything.”

His eyes met mine again.

“What do you want, Elara?”

For a moment, I couldn’t answer. Because for the first time—I didn’t know.

“I used to know,” I admitted quietly. “Everything was planned. Clear. Safe.”

“And now?”

I swallowed.

“Now it’s… different.”

“How?”

I hesitated. Because the real answer? Was standing somewhere inside that house.

And it wasn’t him.

“It just is,” I said instead.

He nodded slowly. Not satisfied—but understanding enough not to push further.

“That’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to figure it out right now.”

And somehow—that made it worse. Because he was giving me space—while someone else was taking it away.

“Kuya, you’re staring again.”

Bella’s voice cut through the tension like it always did—light, playful, but dangerously observant.

I didn’t have to turn. I already knew. But I did anyway. And there he was. Adrian.

Standing a few steps away, his gaze locked on us. On me.

He didn’t look away this time. Not even when I caught him. Not even when Bella smirked beside him like she had just confirmed something.

“Am I?” he replied calmly.

Bella crossed her arms. “You’re not subtle.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

That made my chest tighten. Because this time, he didn’t deny it. He owned it. And somehow, that was worse.

“Let’s go inside,” Lucas said gently, completely unaware—or maybe choosing not to be aware—of what was happening around us.

I nodded.

But before I turned—my eyes met Adrian’s again. And this time—it lingered.

Longer than it should have. Longer than it was safe. Long enough for something unspoken to pass between us—something that made it impossible to pretend nothing was happening.

Dinner blurred.

Voices overlapped, laughter filled the room, conversations flowed—but none of it stayed with me. Because I was too aware. Of where he was. Of when he spoke. Of when he didn’t. And worst of all—of how easily I could find him in a room full of people.

“Elara.”

Lucas again.

I turned to him, forcing myself to focus.

“Yes?”

He smiled softly. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He hesitated, then quietly asked—“Is there something I should know?”

My heart stopped. Just for a second.

“What do you mean?” I asked carefully.

He shrugged slightly. “I don’t know… I just feel like you’re holding something back.”

Because I am. Because I have to. Because if I don’t—everything falls apart.

“There’s nothing,” I said.

And this time—that felt more like a lie than anything I’ve said before.

He looked at me for a long moment. Then smiled. But it didn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Okay,” he said.

And just like that—I knew. He didn’t believe me.

“You’re hurting him.”

I turned sharply. Bella. Again. She stood beside me, her expression no longer playful. Just honest.

“I’m not—” I started.

“You are,” she cut in gently. “You just don’t mean to.”

Silence.

“And the worst part?” she continued. “He knows.”

That made my chest tighten.

“He just doesn’t want to lose you before he even has you.”

I couldn’t speak. Because every word she said—was hitting somewhere real.

“And you?” she asked softly.

Her eyes searched mine.

“What are you trying not to lose?”

My breath caught. Because I knew the answer. I just didn’t want to say it.

That night, everything felt heavier. The air. The silence. The space between people who didn’t know what was happening—and the ones who did.

I stepped out onto the balcony again, needing space, needing air, needing anything that could make things feel less overwhelming.

But of course—I wasn’t alone for long.

“You keep coming back here.”

I closed my eyes briefly. Then turned. Adrian. Again.

“I could say the same thing,” I replied.

He stepped closer—but slower this time. More careful. Like he was aware of how close was too close. But still—not stopping.

“You’re getting closer to him,” he said.

Straight to the point.

“No,” I said.

“Yes.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t know how.

“Because from where I’m standing,” he continued, his voice lower now, more controlled but heavier, “you’re giving him something you’re not fully in.”

That hit. Because it was true.

“And you?” I asked quietly. “What are you doing?”

A pause. Then—

“Trying to stop this.”

“Are you?”

I stepped closer. Just enough.

“Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

That shifted something.

His jaw tightened slightly. “You think this is easy for me?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted. “I think it’s not.”

Silence. Heavy. Real.

“And that’s the problem,” I added.

Because if it were easy—we wouldn’t be here.

For a moment, neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke. Because there was nothing left to pretend. Nothing left to misunderstand. Just one truth—hanging between us.

Too dangerous. Too real. Too late.

“You should go back to him,” Adrian said finally.

But this time—it didn’t sound like a command. It sounded like something he didn’t want to say.

I looked at him. Really looked at him. And for the first time—I saw it clearly.

Not control. Not distance. Not indifference. But something else. Something he was trying just as hard as I was—not to feel.

“And you?” I asked softly.

His gaze held mine. Longer this time. More honest.

“I’m trying to do the right thing.”

A pause.

Then I whispered—“So am I.”

But somehow it didn’t feel like we were.