Strawberry
The restaurant buzzes with laughter and the clinking of plates, but my attention is elsewhere. My phone sits face down on the table, untouched. The rule of the night is simple—first one to grab their phone pays the bill.
I lean back against the cushioned seat, arms crossed, pretending to engage in whatever nonsense my friends are talking about. But my mind is elsewhere. I know it’s coming. Any minute now.
"You good, Maiven?" Jorge smirks, nudging my shoulder. "Mukhang ang lalim ng iniisip mo ah. May hinihintay ka?"
I scoff, reaching for my water instead. "Wala. Nag-iisip lang."
"About Avara?" Cali teases, grinning as the others chuckle. Gali, who had been quietly observing, finally speaks up, shaking his head in amusement. "Alam na, Maiven. Ikaw na ang may-ari ng ride-hailing service ni Ava." "Nasaan nga pala siya ngayon? Ah, tama—date nila ni Gio, ‘di ba?"
I don't respond. Instead, I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s late enough that their dinner should be winding down. Late enough that she’ll be calling any second now.
And right on cue, my phone lights up. The name flashes on the screen: Ava.
The group erupts into laughter. "Kita mo na!" Jorge exclaims. "Ano, Maiv? Dedma o sagot tapos bayad ka sa bill?"
I exhale through my nose, heart hammering in my chest. My fingers twitch as I stare at the screen. The ringing feels deafening, drowning out everything else. I already know what I’ll do.
"Hala, Maiv, mukhang importante yan!" Cali teases, winking. "Baka naman emergency! O baka gusto lang niya ng sundo?"
"Oo nga," Jorge adds, shaking his head dramatically. "Pero ikaw rin, Maiv. Alam mo namang ganyan ‘yan eh. Tatawag, tapos…"
Without a word, I reach for my wallet, slide my card onto the table, and pick up my phone.
More teasing follows, but I don’t care. My voice is steady as I press the phone to my ear. "Nasaan ka?"
Silence greets me for half a second, then a shaky breath. "Maiven…"
I stiffen. The way she says my name—it’s barely above a whisper, fragile, breaking.
Then I hear it, the unmistakable sound of her sniffling.
She’s crying.
My grip on the phone tightens. "Ava, anong nangyari?"
Another shaky breath, and then her voice cracks. "Puwede mo ba akong sunduin?"
I’m already pushing back my chair before she even finishes speaking.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I connect my phone GPS to the car’s navigation system with quick, practiced movements. "Ava, i-share mo yung location mo," I say, trying to keep my voice calm despite the way my pulse pounds in my ears. "Hintayin mo ‘ko diyan, okay?"
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. Then, a small, shaky "Okay."
I hear her sniff again before the call ends.
A notification pings on my screen, marking her exact location. My breath catches for a second—she's not far, but not close enough. Without wasting another moment, I grip the steering wheel, shift into drive, and press my foot down hard on the accelerator.
The city blurs around me—neon signs flashing, taillights streaking red across my windshield, the occasional honk piercing through the quiet hum of the radio. But I don’t care. I switch lanes without thinking, take turns a little too sharp, barely register the amber traffic light I beat by a second. My only focus is that blinking blue dot moving slightly on my screen.
She’s there. Waiting.
I try not to think about why she’s crying. About Gio. About how the night must’ve gone wrong. About how I knew, somehow, that it would.
A sharp exhale escapes me as I slow down near her pinned location. And then, I see her.
A few steps away from the curb, sitting on the pavement like a lost kid. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, chin tucked down, hair falling over her face. Streetlights cast a dim glow around her, making the streaks of tear tracks on her cheeks glisten faintly.
I grip the wheel tighter.
I put the car in park but don’t move immediately. Instead, I take a second—one deep breath—before pushing open the door and stepping out. The night air is cool against my skin, but the sight in front of me makes something burn inside my chest.
"Ava," I call out softly, careful not to startle her.
Her shoulders tense slightly, and for a second, she doesn’t move. Then, slowly, she lifts her head.
Our eyes meet.
And just like that, whatever frustration, whatever lingering jealousy I had about Gio vanishes.
Because right now, Ava isn’t the bright, carefree girl who drags me into spontaneous adventures. She isn’t the one who teases me endlessly, who makes everything feel lighter just by existing.
Right now, she just looks... small. Lost.
And she needs me.
I swallow down the tightness in my throat and take a step forward. "Halika na," I say, my voice softer than I expected.
She blinks at me, lip trembling, then without a word, she pushes herself up—slowly, as if exhausted from the weight of everything she’s feeling.
The moment she’s steady on her feet, she takes a step toward me.
Then another.
Then, before I can even react, she crashes into me, arms wrapping around my waist, face burying into my shoulder.
And all I can do is hold her.
I open the passenger door, and Ava steps in without a word. Her movements are sluggish, drained. She leans her head against the window, arms hugging herself. I notice the slight tremble in her shoulders—not just from the cold, but from the night itself.
With a quiet sigh, I reach over and adjust her seat, reclining it slightly. “Mas maayos kang makakapagpahinga ng ganito,” I murmur, glancing at her. She doesn’t protest, just shifts slightly as if melting into the comfort.
Then, my eyes flick to her dress. It’s elegant, probably something she picked out carefully for tonight. But it’s sleeveless, thin-strapped, leaving too much skin exposed to the night’s chill. And I know her—she’s never good with the cold.
Without thinking, I shrug off my jacket and drape it over her. She blinks at me, lips parting slightly in surprise. “Maiv—”
“Suot mo na lang,” I say quickly, avoiding her gaze. “Alam kong giniginaw ka.”
She hesitates for a second, but then tugs the jacket closer around herself. “Thanks,” she whispers.
I nod, forcing my focus elsewhere—like reaching for her seatbelt.
I lean in, grabbing the belt and pulling it across her lap. The proximity suddenly feels suffocating. I can smell the faint traces of her perfume—something floral, something unmistakably her.
Click.
I secure the buckle, but I don’t move away immediately. My fingers linger for half a second before I realize—I need to breathe.
I clear my throat and quickly pull back, gripping the wheel a little too tightly. “Ayusin mo na lang pag masyadong mahigpit,” I mutter, starting the engine.
She doesn’t say anything, just watches me with those unreadable eyes before she rests her head against the seat.
The drive to Makati is quiet, except for the hum of the car and the occasional sigh from Ava. I glance at her every now and then, watching as exhaustion takes over. Her breathing evens out. Her face relaxes. She’s asleep.
I tell myself this is better. That she should rest. That I shouldn’t dwell on the warmth that still lingers where she touched me.
But before I head straight to her condo, I make a detour.
A 24-hour convenience store glows on the side of the road, its neon sign flickering slightly. I pull into the parking lot and cut the engine.
A quick trip. Just a small stop.
I step inside, the cool air-conditioning hitting me instantly. My feet move on their own toward the freezers, fingers reaching for a tub of ice cream. Strawberry. Her favorite.
Never mine.
I glance at the vanilla tub beside it. That’s more my thing. Safe. Simple.
But I grab the strawberry anyway. Because tonight isn’t about what I want. It’s about her.
It’s always about her.
As we step out of the car, I instinctively place a hand on Ava’s back, guiding her towards the entrance of her condo. Her steps are slow, unsteady, and I notice how she hesitates slightly with every step. Without thinking, I reach for her hand, holding it firmly but gently. She doesn’t resist. Instead, she squeezes my fingers lightly as if grounding herself.
The elevator ride is silent, save for the occasional sniffle from her. I pretend not to notice, letting her have the space to gather herself. Once we reach her floor, I walk her to her unit, making sure she enters first before I follow, closing the door behind me.
I head straight to the kitchen, placing the tub of ice cream inside the freezer. “Maligo ka na,” I say, my tone softer than usual. “Para makapagpalit ka ng damit.”
She nods absentmindedly and makes her way to the bedroom, dragging her feet slightly. I watch her disappear behind the door before I turn my attention to the sofa bed. It’s been our designated sleeping space for years now. Whenever I sleep over, which is often, this is where we end up—side by side, watching whatever random movie we can agree on.
With practiced ease, I pull out the spare blankets and pillows from the storage compartment. Being with Ava for so long, I have her habits memorized—how she likes her blankets folded just right, how she needs an extra pillow to hug, how she can’t sleep with her feet dangling off the edge.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. Gio has been her longest relationship yet—a full year. I’ve seen her through multiple breakups, each one hitting differently, but this… this feels different.
I shake the thoughts away and grab a change of clothes from the drawer where she keeps some of my stuff. I head to the guest bathroom for a quick shower, washing away the tension that’s settled in my muscles.
When I come back, fresh clothes clinging to my still-damp skin, Ava is still in the bathroom. The sound of running water echoes softly from behind the door.
I settle onto the sofa bed, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the streaming service. Something light. Something that won’t remind her of tonight.
I’m lost in the list of movie options when suddenly, a familiar weight presses against my head.
Ava.
From behind, she rests her chin atop my head, her damp hair tickling my skin. Before I can react, she wraps her arms around my neck, her embrace loose but warm. My hands instinctively rise, unsure whether to hold her back or pull her off. My heart betrays me, slamming against my ribcage.
“Kaya mo na ba ikwento?” I ask, my voice steady despite the way she makes me feel.
Instead of answering, she clings a little tighter. I exhale and slowly pull her forward, guiding her to sit beside me. She moves easily, pliant, until she’s curled up next to me, her legs tucked beneath her.
She takes my hands in hers—soft, trembling fingers intertwining with mine—and pulls them around her so it looks like I’m back-hugging her.
I freeze, but she doesn’t let go.
I don’t either.
“Gio…” she finally murmurs, voice small. “Di siya dumating.”
I stiffen.
She exhales shakily before continuing. “Naghintay ako, Maiv. Ang tagal ko siyang hinintay.” She lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking her head. “Pero wala. Hindi siya dumating.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Sinabi ba niya kung bakit?”
She goes quiet for a moment, then pulls away just enough to grab her phone from the side table. With a few swipes, she opens her messages. My jaw tightens when I see it—dozens of unanswered texts, all from her.
Then she swipes again and shows me a photo.
Gio, inside a bar, his arm draped lazily around another girl.
Sent by Lei.
I inhale sharply, suppressing the immediate wave of anger that threatens to rise.
“Tangina,” I mutter under my breath.
Ava lets out a small, bitter laugh. “Sabi ko magbabago siya. Ang tanga ko, ‘no?”
I don’t respond—not because I agree, but because I know she doesn’t need someone telling her what she already knows. Instead, I squeeze her hands, grounding her.
She shifts slightly, resting her head on my shoulder. Her breathing is calmer now, steadier.
And even though my heart aches for her, I let her stay there. Because if this is all I can do for her right now, then I’ll do it.
I let Ava sit in silence for a moment, letting the weight of the night settle without pressing her to speak. But I can’t stand seeing her like this—eyes swollen, voice hoarse, body curled up like she’s trying to disappear.
I clear my throat. "Alam mo, Ava, baka naman traffic lang si Gio?" I say, feigning innocence.
She lets out a tired sigh. "Maiv, huwag na. Alam nating hindi totoo ‘yan."
"Eh baka nawala lang siya sa daan?" I continue, lips twitching. "Sa bar nga lang pala siya nakarating. Napakawalang sense ng Waze niya."
A small snort escapes her. She immediately covers her mouth, but I catch it. My chest warms at the sound.
"Ayan, oh! Ngumiti rin," I tease, nudging her playfully.
She shakes her head, finally looking at me with tired but amused eyes. "Ewan ko sa’yo."
I grin, stretching my arms before grabbing the remote again. "O, para di na tayo sad, nood tayo ng favorite mong movie."
Her brows furrow. "Anong—"
"Hey Babe!," I announce dramatically. "Si Marvin at Jolina na ang bahala sa’yo ngayong gabi."
For the first time tonight, a genuine smile tugs at her lips. "Tsk. Alam mo talagang ‘yan gusto kong panoorin."
"Syempre naman," I say, standing up. "At para mas sulit, bumili ako ng favorite mong ice cream. Nasa freezer na."
Her eyes widen slightly, lips parting in surprise. "Bumili ka ng strawberry?"
I nod, proud of myself. "Yes. At puwede mong ubusin mag-isa."
"Hoy!" she protests, sitting up straighter. "Share tayo. Favorite mo rin ‘yon, ‘di ba?"
I freeze for half a second before composing myself.
"Uh…" I scratch my cheek, looking away. "Oo naman."
Ava doesn’t know, but strawberry was never my favorite. I only started eating it because it was hers. I just got used to it.
She playfully squints at me. "Totoo ‘yan?"
"Syempre," I lie effortlessly, already walking to the kitchen to grab the tub and two spoons.
Once everything is set, we settle on the sofa bed, the opening credits of Hey Babe rolling. I hand her the ice cream, and she digs in, humming in satisfaction after the first spoonful.
As the movie plays, she slowly leans against my shoulder, her body relaxing as the exhaustion from the night catches up with her. Her breathing evens out, and before I know it, her spoon is slipping from her hand.
Carefully, I take the empty ice cream tub from her lap, making sure not to wake her. I bring it to the sink and rinse off the spoons before returning to the living room.
Sliding back beside her, I barely have time to settle before she instinctively shifts towards me. Her arms wrap around my waist, her face tucking into the curve of my neck.
My breath catches.
Automatically, my hand moves to her back, rubbing slow, soothing circles—something I’ve done countless times before. She sighs softly, melting into my touch.
And just like that, the ache in my chest returns.
Because moments like these, where she clings to me like I’m her safe place, make me wish for things I shouldn’t. Make me long for something that’s never been mine.
I close my eyes, letting myself get lost in the warmth of her, in the quiet rise and fall of her breathing.
Because if this is all I’ll ever have, then I’ll take it.
Even if it means pretending it’s enough.