Can we meet?
The fire had burned low, its embers casting a dull, orange glow against the darkness. The once lively crackles had quieted into occasional pops, the scent of charred wood lingering in the air. The waves rolled in and out in steady, rhythmic motions, a calming contrast to the storm quietly brewing in Maiven’s chest.
She sat back against the wooden chair, legs stretched out, arms resting loosely over her stomach. The weight of the day was finally sinking in the midterms, the long drive, the saltwater on her skin, the laughter over barbecue, the off key singing, and the teasing. For once, she felt light. No nagging thoughts. No ache in her chest. No restless need to check her phone every five minutes. She was getting better.
But then, her phone buzzed against the table.
Maiven frowned, glancing at the screen, expecting maybe a late night meme from Jorge or a stupid inside joke from Gali.
Instead..
15 missed calls. 8 messages.
All from Avara.
Her chest tightened. Her stomach twisted. She knew this feeling all too well.
For the first time in a long time, Avara needed her.
The knee jerk reaction was immediate. Get up. Grab the keys. Drive back.
Her hand clenched around the phone, thumb hesitating over the notifications. The urge was strong. It always was when it came to Avara.
She swiped the messages open.
Maiven, where are you?
Can you pick up?
Please.
I just… I need to talk.
I don’t know, I just—
It’s stupid. Nevermind.
Nevermind.
Maiven exhaled sharply, staring at that last message longer than she should. She could hear it in her head. The way Avara would’ve said it, probably in that small, defeated voice, forcing nonchalance when she actually meant, I needed you, but you weren’t there.
God.
She should call back. She should at least text. Ask. Say something.
But she didn’t.
Because she knew exactly where this would lead. The cycle. The endless loop.
She would call. Avara would sniffle, say she was fine, then ask"Can you come?"
And Maiven would.
Without question. Without hesitation.
Even if it meant undoing all the progress she had made. Even if it meant letting herself sink back into the same space where Avara was the sun and she was nothing but a planet orbiting, caught in her gravity.
Would she ever be strong enough to say no?
She swallowed hard, heart pounding in her ears as she stared at her phone. If she didn’t go, could she live with the guilt? The guilt of knowing Avara needed her and she wasn’t there.
But if she went… She knew exactly how this story ended. It always ended with Maiven losing herself.
Her fingers curled into a fist, knuckles pressing against her lips. She hated this. She hated that she had to choose between Avara and herself. She hated that, even now, she still didn’t know which choice would hurt less.
The fire crackled, a sharp pop breaking the silence.
With a deep breath, Maiven turned her phone over, screen down on the table. She closed her eyes and leaned back, forcing herself to listen to the waves instead of the voice in her head screaming at her to run back.
This time, Avara would have to learn how to stand on her own.
And Maiven…
Maiven would have to learn how to live without her.
The fire had burned down to nothing but glowing embers, their soft orange glow flickering against the darkness. The night air was cool, the sound of the waves a steady rhythm in the background.
Maiven sat alone, elbows on her knees, hands clasped together. Her phone lay face down on the wooden bench beside her. She knew exactly what had happened. Avara needed comfort tonight. Something had upset her or maybe a bad dream, maybe an argument, maybe just one of those nights where everything felt too heavy.
And Maiven wasn’t there.
Her jaw clenched, fingers gripping tightly against each other. She wanted to go. She wanted to pick up her phone, book the first available ride back to Manila, and show up at Avara’s door like she always did. Because that’s what she did. That’s what Avara expected. That’s what Maiven had taught her to expect.
But if she went, it would be the same cycle all over again.
She had to stop. But stopping meant choosing herself for once, and that felt almost as painful as the guilt pressing down on her chest.
Her fingers twitched toward her phone, the urge to at least send a message overwhelming her—
Until a voice cut through the quiet.
"You're gonna give yourself a headache if you keep thinking that hard."
Maiven flinched slightly, startled, before turning to see Adrielle standing a few feet away, arms crossed.
Adrielle looked relaxed, but Maiven knew better. Adrielle had a sharpness to her, an ability to read the room without trying too hard.
"Can’t sleep?" Adrielle asked, stepping closer.
Maiven let out a slow breath. "Something like that."
Adrielle studied her for a moment before sitting down on the bench beside her. She didn’t push. Didn’t demand an explanation. She just sat there, the night settling around them.
After a long pause, Adrielle spoke again. "You wanna tell me why you're staring at the ashes like it's gonna give you answers?"
Maiven huffed a short, humorless laugh. "Doubt you’d be interested."
Adrielle raised a brow. "Try me."
Maiven hesitated. She wasn’t used to talking about this. Not really. But Adrielle wasn’t just some casual acquaintance. She was sharp, observant, and she didn’t offer empty words.
So, for the first time in a long time, Maiven spoke. She told Adrielle about Avara. About the late night calls, the unspoken expectations, the way she had spent years being Avara’s person without Avara ever truly being hers.
She spoke of the missed calls and unread messages tonight, of the way Avara could break her resolve without even realizing it.
And she admitted, softly, bitterly, how much it hurt to not be there this time.
Adrielle listened.
She didn’t interrupt. Didn’t throw in words of comfort or meaningless reassurances. She just let Maiven speak, let her get it all out.
When Maiven finally exhaled, exhausted from years of holding it in, Adrielle leaned back against the bench, exhaling through her nose.
"I get it now," she murmured. "Why this is hard for you."
Maiven scoffed. "Do you?"
"Yeah," Adrielle said simply. "I mean, I don't fully get it—I’m not you. But I understand now."
Maiven waited.
Adrielle tilted her head, eyes sharp but thoughtful. "She’s oblivious. And I don’t mean that in a cute, innocent way. I mean it in the she-has-no-idea-what-she’s-doing-to-you kind of way."
Maiven let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, well… she never asked me to wait."
Adrielle raised a brow. "Did she need to?"
Maiven fell silent. Because no. Avara never needed to ask. Maiven had done it all on her own.
Adrielle sighed, shaking her head. "Look, I’m not gonna tell you what to do. It’s your life. But…" she trailed off, picking her words carefully. "I don’t think you deserve to be stuck in this loop."
Maiven swallowed. "I know."
"Do you?" Adrielle countered.
Maiven didn’t answer.
They sat in silence for a moment before Adrielle suddenly stood, dusting herself off.
"Come on."
Maiven blinked. "What?"
Adrielle stretched. "Since we’re both awake, help me cook breakfast for later."
Maiven frowned. "What—why?"
Adrielle smirked. "You look like you need a distraction. And I like a challenge."
Maiven stared at her, baffled. "You think getting me to cook is a challenge?"
"Absolutely," Adrielle said, already walking toward the house. She paused at the door and looked back. "You in?"
Maiven let out a tired chuckle, shaking her head.
"Yeah," she muttered, standing up. "I’m in."
And for the first time that night, the weight on her chest felt a little lighter.
The kitchen had started off in silence, save for the faint sizzle of food on the stove and the rhythmic clinks of utensils. The air smelled of butter, eggs, and freshly brewed coffee as the sky outside slowly brightened with hues of pink and orange.
Maiven wasn’t a bad cook. She knew her way around a kitchen. She could make decent breakfast meals, enough to survive, but that was about it.
Adrielle, on the other hand?
She moved with an effortless precision, as if she had already planned everything the moment they stepped into the kitchen. Every cut was clean, every flip was perfect, every movement was purposeful. It was… kind of insane.
Maiven found herself just standing there, watching, arms crossed as Adrielle expertly flipped a pancake without even looking.
"Jesus," Maiven muttered under her breath. "Is there anything you can’t do?"
Adrielle, still focused on the pan, smirked. "I have no patience for assembling IKEA furniture."
Maiven scoffed, shaking her head. "Figures. Of course, something normal would be your weakness."
Adrielle poured more batter onto the pan, perfectly even, not a single drop wasted. "You sound bitter."
"I am bitter." Maiven gestured vaguely at the food. "Here I was, thinking I’d at least be decent in comparison, pero parang nasampal lang ako ng realidad."
Adrielle chuckled, finally sparing her a glance. "Relax. You’re doing fine."
"Fine is an insult when you’re standing next to someone who cooks like a five-star chef."
"Just admit you’re impressed," Adrielle quipped.
Maiven sighed dramatically. "Fine. I’m impressed. Happy?"
Adrielle smirked. "Very."
She exhaled through her nose. "At least let me do the coffee."
Adrielle gestured toward the coffee maker. "Be my guest."
Maiven started brewing, the rich aroma filling the kitchen as the sun slowly peeked through the windows. Outside, the beach was bathed in golden light, waves crashing softly onto the shore.
As they plated the food, Adrielle tossed Maiven a dish towel. "Set the table while I finish this."
Maiven caught it with ease and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Chef."
By the time everything was set, the table looked like something out of a magazine. A towering stack of golden pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and a steaming pot of coffee. It was an absurdly good spread for what was supposed to be just a simple breakfast.
Right on cue, their friends started waking up one by one.
First was Jorge, stumbling into the kitchen with her hair a mess and eyes barely open. She was mid yawn when she finally registered the table.
"…Holy shit."
"Language," Adrielle said flatly, pouring herself coffee.
Jorge blinked rapidly, as if making sure she wasn’t hallucinating. "Are we still asleep? Did I die in my sleep? Am I in heaven?"
"Nope," Maiven said smugly. "Just breakfast."
Gali was next, rubbing her eyes. "Ano ‘to—" She stopped short, mouth dropping open. "Sino may birthday?"
"None of us," Adrielle answered simply.
Gali turned to Maiven, squinting. "Ikaw ba ‘to?"
Maiven gave her a flat look. "You really think I did all this?"
"Honestly? No," Gali muttered. "Pero minsan nagugulat na lang ako sa mga kaya mong gawin."
Before Maiven could respond, Cali, Spencer, Sab, and Lei entered together, all looking half awake but perking up at the sight of the food.
"Okay, what the hell," Spencer said, blinking at the table. "Who actually made all this?"
"Adrielle," Maiven answered, jerking a thumb at her.
Adrielle casually took a sip of her coffee. "Maiven helped."
"Helped daw," Jorge snorted.
Maiven rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.
"Wait," Lei piped up, still staring at the food. "You’re telling me Adrielle made all of this?"
"Apparently, she’s good at everything," Maiven muttered.
Sab groaned dramatically as she took a seat. "That’s so unfair. Leave some talents for the rest of us, Adrielle."
Adrielle smirked. "No."
"Okay, but real talk," Lei said, grabbing a pancake. "This looks insane."
Sab took a bite and let out an exaggerated moan. "Oh my God. I think I just saw heaven."
Adrielle chuckled. "It’s just breakfast."
"Breakfast na pang-hotel buffet," Gali corrected.
Jorge, still chewing on bacon, suddenly pointed her fork at Adrielle. "If I find out na magaling ka rin sumayaw—"
"She’s not," Maiven cut in.
Jorge gasped dramatically. "May kahinaan ka rin pala, Miss Perfect!"
Adrielle just rolled her eyes, unfazed.
Maiven finally took a sip of her coffee, letting the warmth settle in her chest. The exhaustion from last night’s overthinking hadn’t completely disappeared, and the guilt was still there, lingering in the back of her mind.
But right now, surrounded by laughter, teasing, and the smell of good food, it felt a little easier to breathe.
The weekend had been a blur of relaxation, laughter, and a much needed escape from reality. For a while, Maiven allowed herself to breathe, to exist outside the weight of her past. She let herself get lost in the easy company of her friends, in the way the ocean breeze tangled in her hair, in the warmth of the bonfire and in the shared nostalgia of old songs.
But the moment they started heading back to Manila, the weight settled right back onto her shoulders.
She sat by the van window, her gaze locked onto the blur of the highway lights. The inside of the van was buzzing with the usual energy. Jorge was up front, curating the perfect road trip playlist, switching between OPM classics and early 2000s anthems. Sab and Lei were in the back, half asleep but still laughing at some inside joke. Gali, dramatic as ever, whined about how she needed to shower the second they got back. Spencer and Adrielle were deep in conversation, while Cali occasionally glanced at Maiven, noticing her silence.
Normally, Maiven would be part of the banter, maybe even tossing in a sarcastic remark or two. But not now.
Not when her mind was still stuck on those missed calls. Not when she knew that if Avara had called that much, it had to be serious.
She leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes, willing herself to let it go.
She’s fine. She has people.
She doesn’t need you anymore.
You don’t need to go back.
But the gnawing feeling in her chest wouldn’t let up.
She barely realized they had already arrived until Jorge threw the van into park and stretched dramatically. "Finally, we’re home. If I have to hear Gali complain about her shower one more time—"
"Hoy!" Gali protested. "I deserve a shower!"
Maiven forced a chuckle, grabbing her bag and stepping out of the van. The city air felt heavier after the crisp, salty breeze of the beach.
Cali walked beside her as they made their way inside. She didn’t say anything at first, just studied Maiven like she was waiting for her to break the silence.
"You okay?" Cali finally asked, voice low and careful.
Maiven hesitated for a beat too long before replying, "Yeah. Just tired."
Cali didn’t push. She only nodded, giving Maiven a knowing look before heading inside.
But they both knew this wasn’t just exhaustion.
Later that night, after unpacking, after taking a long, hot shower that did little to ease the unease coiled in her chest, Maiven sat on her bed, towel-drying her hair. Her phone lay on the nightstand, the screen dark, but she could still feel the weight of Avara’s messages pressing against her.
She didn’t have to check—she already knew what was there.
Still, she picked up her phone and unlocked it, her stomach twisting as she scrolled through the missed calls and unread messages.
Avara [10:42 PM]
Maiven, where are you?Avara [10:57 PM]
I don't know, I just-Avara [11:15 PM]
It's stupid. Never mind.
That last message.
Never mind.
Maiven swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter.
Avara had always been dramatic, but she rarely reached out like this especially not repeatedly. For her to call and text this much in one night… it had to be something.
Maiven exhaled sharply, running a hand through her damp hair.
If she called now, she knew exactly what would happen.
She’d get pulled right back into Avara’s orbit, into that endless cycle of being her shoulder to lean on, her constant, her safety net. She’d tell herself it was the last time, that she was just helping as a friend, and before she knew it, she’d be stuck again.
But if she didn’t call—
The guilt would eat her alive.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She typed out a message.
"You okay?"
She stared at it.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
"Did something happen?"
Deleted that too.
Her heart pounded as she settled on something simple. Something neutral. Something that wouldn’t pull her in too deep.
"You called?"
She hit send before she could second guess herself.
The response came almost immediately, her phone vibrating in her hands.
Avara [09:26 PM]
Can we meet?
Maiven’s breath hitched.
And just like that, she knew this wasn’t over.
Maiven wanted to believe she was past this. She had done everything right. She focused on herself, put distance between them, and built a life that didn’t revolve around a single call, a single name. She told herself she was better now.
But the moment she saw that message—
"Can we meet?"
—it was like she had been yanked back into the past.
She sat on her bed, gripping her phone tightly, her pulse hammering in her ears.
She shouldn't do this. She shouldn't even be thinking about it.
But Avara wouldn’t call unless it was serious.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? That tiny, nagging part of her that still believed she was the only one who could understand Avara. That deep, ingrained instinct that told her, if she needs you, you go.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitation freezing her in place.
Ignore it. Move on.
That’s what she’s been doing so well.
But guilt, guilt had a way of digging into her, wrapping around her ribs like chains, suffocating her.
She clenched her jaw. One message. Just one.
"Where?"
The cafe was quiet, the kind of place where time seemed to move slower. The low hum of conversations, the soft clinking of cups, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, it should have been calming.
But all Maiven felt was tension.
She spotted Avara immediately. She was sitting by the window, fingers curled around a coffee cup, her posture tense. The moment she saw Maiven, her expression shifted to relief, something close to regret, and something Maiven refused to name.
For a second, Maiven hesitated.
She could turn around. Walk away.
But she was already here. And you already knew you’d come the moment you saw her message.
A deep breath, then she moved forward, sliding into the seat across from Avara.
"You finally answered," Avara said, voice softer than usual.
Maiven exhaled sharply, resting her arms on the table. "You called at least ten times. You think I wouldn’t?"
Avara looked away, stirring her drink absentmindedly. "I just… I didn’t know who else to call."
That was the first gut punch.
Because Avara said it like Maiven was still hers to rely on. Like nothing had changed. Like Maiven hadn’t been spending all this time trying to put distance between them.
She forced a neutral expression. "So? What’s the emergency?"
Avara hesitated, then let out a breath. "Gio and I broke up."
There it was. The second gut punch.
Maiven’s grip on her coffee tightened. She should’ve seen it coming. She should’ve been prepared. But it still felt like standing at the edge of something dangerous.
Avara’s voice was quieter when she spoke again. "I don’t know why, but when it happened… I just wanted to call you."
Maiven looked away. Of course you did.
She knew exactly why. Because this was how it always was.
Maiven, the safety net. The one who cleaned up after the mess. The one who made sure Avara didn’t completely fall apart.
The worst part?
She wanted to be.
She wanted to be the one Avara ran to. Even if it destroyed her every time.
"Maiven," Avara’s voice was almost pleading now, her eyes searching Maiven’s face. "Can we just stay like this for a while? I just… I just need you right now."
And that was the final blow.
Because despite everything—
Despite knowing how this would end—
Maiven still wanted to be needed.
Maiven should’ve left.
She should’ve stood up, told Avara to take care, and walked away before the cracks in her resolve widened.
But she didn’t.
Because Avara looked lost. And Maiven, Maiven had never been able to turn away from her, no matter how much it hurt.
So she stayed.
Just like always.
The cafe around them felt smaller, quieter, as if it knew the weight of what was happening. Outside, the world kept moving, but here, in this little corner of familiarity, Maiven could feel the past creeping in, wrapping around her like a too warm blanket comforting and suffocating all at once.
Avara sighed, fingers still absently stirring her coffee. "It’s stupid, isn’t it?" She let out a humorless laugh. "I should be used to breakups by now."
Maiven swallowed the sharp words sitting on the tip of her tongue. Should be, but you’re not. Because you never take them seriously until they’re gone.
Instead, she settled for something safer. "You really liked him, huh?"
Avara was quiet for a moment. "I don’t know," she admitted. "I just… it felt nice. Having someone." She looked up, eyes unreadable. "But then, I realized I didn’t miss him when he wasn’t around. Not really."
Maiven’s fingers curled under the table. And yet, you called me.
She hated how much that still mattered.
"Then maybe it’s for the best," she said evenly, keeping her voice steady even as something inside her cracked.
Avara gave her a small, sad smile. "Maybe."
And then, softly, hesitantly, Avara reached across the table, fingers brushing against Maiven’s wrist. It was barely a touch. But it burned.
Maiven sucked in a sharp breath, the contact searing through her resolve like a hot knife through ice.
Avara didn’t pull away. "I just needed to see you," she murmured. "Just for a little while."
And Maiven knew this was dangerous.
The slow pull back into Avara’s orbit. The familiar weight of being the person Avara turned to when things got messy.
The way her heart betrayed her, hammering against her ribs, like it hadn’t learned its lesson.
She should move. She should pull her hand away. She should end this before it goes any further.
But she stayed.
Because it’s what she’s always done.
Maiven knew she had to pull back.
The air between them was thick of too many unsaid things, too many familiar emotions clawing their way back to the surface. But she couldn’t let it happen. Not again.
She leaned away, subtly creating distance. Clearing her throat, she glanced at her watch. "It’s late," she said, voice firm but careful. "We have school tomorrow. We’re graduating soon. We need to focus."
Avara blinked, surprised. It wasn’t the response she expected.
For a moment, Maiven thought she would push, argue, ask her to stay a little longer, just like before. But Avara only nodded, a slow, reluctant movement. "Yeah. You’re right."
Maiven exhaled, steadying herself. This was good. She was handling it.
"How did you get here?" she asked after a beat.
Avara stared at her empty cup before answering. "Took a cab."
Maiven sighed. "Come on. I’ll take you home."
Avara didn’t argue. She never did when Maiven offered care in small, practical ways. It was just what they did.
The drive was quiet.
Not uncomfortable, but heavy like an old song playing on a loop, one Maiven had tried to forget but somehow still knew every lyric to.
The city lights blurred past them, painting their silence in streaks of neon and warm streetlamp gold. Avara didn’t try to fill the space with small talk. Maiven kept her hands steady on the wheel, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
When they pulled up in front of Avara’s house, Maiven shifted into park but didn’t unlock the doors yet. She turned slightly, waiting for Avara to move, to leave, to let this night end before it unraveled any further.
But Avara didn’t leave right away. Instead, she looked at Maiven, hesitating.
And then softly, almost as if she wasn’t sure if she should say it, she spoke.
"You know, I thought about running after Gio."
Maiven’s breath hitched.
Avara’s fingers curled against her lap. "The moment he walked away, I almost ran after him. Told him to stay. Tried to fix things. Because that’s what I always do, diba?" She let out a humorless laugh. "Pero hindi ko nagawa."
Maiven swallowed hard. She didn’t want to hear this. She wasn’t sure she could hear this.
"I didn’t run after him," Avara continued, her voice quieter now. "Because the first thing I thought of wasn’t him leaving."
She turned, finally meeting Maiven’s eyes. "It was you."
The words hit Maiven like a gut punch.
"I don’t know why," Avara admitted, shaking her head. "Pero ikaw agad 'yung naisip ko."
Maiven gripped the wheel tighter.
"Goodnight, Maiv."
Avara finally opened the door and stepped out. She didn’t look back.
Maiven sat frozen.
Her hands were shaking. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath.
Slowly, she exhaled.
It felt like something inside her cracked.
She couldn’t go home. Not like this.
So she drove.
By the time Maiven reached Cali’s condo, her hands were trembling against the steering wheel. Her chest felt tight, like something was caving in, like something she had spent months patching together had suddenly cracked open again.
She took a deep breath. Just get to the door, Maiven. Just knock.
Her feet felt heavy as she climbed the stairs, and when she finally knocked, she barely had the strength to do it twice.
The door swung open a few seconds later, revealing Cali in an oversized hoodie and sleep shorts, her hair messily tied up. She squinted, clearly half asleep.
"Maiven? It’s almost midnight—"
"I—" Maiven swallowed hard, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I just needed—"
Her voice broke before she could finish.
Cali’s brows furrowed. "Shit," she muttered under her breath before closing the door. "What happened?"
At that moment, Lei peeked out from the hallway, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing an old band shirt, obviously having crashed at Cali’s place for the night. "Maiven?" Her voice was groggy, but when she saw Maiven’s face, she instantly sobered up.
Maiven tried to speak, but she couldn’t. The moment she opened her mouth, all the emotions she had been holding back since the café, since the car ride, since Avara’s words came rushing in like a tidal wave.
Cali took one look at her and sighed. "Come here."
And just like that, Maiven shattered.
She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt Cali pulling her into a hug.
Lei, standing nearby, crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. She didn’t say anything, but her gaze was filled with pity.
"Tell me everything," Cali said softly.
And so, Maiven did.
She told them about the missed calls. About how she tried to ignore them. About how she knew she shouldn’t have gone, but she did anyway. About how Avara looked at her like she was the only person in the world who could understand her.
"Then she said it," Maiven choked out, wiping her face harshly. "She told me she thought about running after Gio. But she didn’t."
Cali frowned. "Okay…?"
Maiven let out a humorless laugh. "Because the first thing she thought about wasn’t him." She looked up at them, her eyes red and tired. "It was me."
The room was silent for a moment.
Lei exhaled through her nose and muttered, "Tangina naman, Avara."
Cali, on the other hand, didn’t look mad. If anything, she just looked… exhausted.
Not because of Avara.
Because of Maiven.
She squeezed Maiven’s shoulder. "Maiven…" she started carefully. "I need you to hear me, okay?"
Maiven nodded weakly.
"I’m not mad at Avara," Cali admitted. "I don’t even think she’s doing this on purpose. She probably doesn’t even realize how unfair she’s being to you."
Lei scoffed. "That doesn’t excuse it."
Cali nodded. "It doesn’t," she agreed. "But what worries me more is you. Because after all the effort you’ve put in, after all the progress you’ve made, one night with her and you’re back here. Spiraling."
Maiven felt her throat tighten. "I—I’m not spiraling."
Cali gave her a pointed look. "Really? Then why are you crying in my condo at midnight instead of sleeping peacefully at home?"
Maiven had no answer for that.
Lei sighed, finally speaking up. "You know I’m friends with Avara," she said. "Pero I’ve never agreed with how she treats you. Like some safety net. Some—" she waved a hand, searching for the right word. "—security blanket she only reaches for when she’s falling apart."
Cali nodded in agreement. "And the worst part is, you let her, Maiven."
Maiven wiped at her face, frustration and heartbreak twisting in her chest. "I just—" She exhaled shakily. "I don’t know how to stop."
Cali’s face softened. "Then let us help you."
Maiven closed her eyes.
She was so tired.
And for the first time, she let herself admit it to them, to herself.
"Okay."
The university buzzed with life. Midterms had just wrapped up, and the air was still thick with post exam exhaustion, but the main topic of conversation? Their La Union trip.
Everyone was still hooked on the weekend getaway, scrolling through pictures, laughing at inside jokes, and reminiscing about the waves, the bonfire, and the absolute chaos that was their friend group.
Except for Maiven.
She walked beside Cali, their steps slow but steady as they made their way to their usual spot. She was holding herself together, pushing forward as if last night hadn’t happened, as if she hadn’t broken down completely just hours ago.
She had no idea that Cali had sent a message to Jorge and Gali before they even stepped foot on campus.
Cali: Heads up. She had a rough night. Keep it light.
Jorge: On it.
Gali: Noted. Operation: Act Normal, GO.
And so, when they reached their usual bench, the first thing Maiven heard was—
"If it isn’t the disappearing act herself!"
Jorge’s voice rang out, loud and teasing.
"Wow, she still remembers us," Gali added, crossing her arms.
Maiven rolled her eyes. "Are you two crazy? I was with you yesterday."
"You were gone for the night," Jorge huffed dramatically. "We were this close to putting your face on a missing person flyer."
"Or assuming you eloped with some surfer from La Union," Gali said with a smirk.
"Oh yeah?" Maiven challenged, arching a brow. "Sino naman ang naisip niyo na tinakbuhan ko?"
"The cute instructor from the surf lesson? Or maybe the barista na binilhan mo ng coffee five times in a row?" Jorge grinned.
Maiven groaned. "That was for everyone, gago."
"Eh ‘yung bartender?" Gali snickered.
"Please, she’s too serious for a bartender," Jorge shot back.
"Right, right. She’d probably run away with a—"
"You two are idiots," Maiven muttered, shaking her head.
Cali just chuckled beside her, relieved that Jorge and Gali were doing exactly what she hoped, keeping things light.
But before anyone could steer the conversation back to La Union, a familiar sharp voice cut through.
"Is this a gathering of intellectuals or a waste of time?"
The banter stopped instantly.
Adrielle.
Jorge groaned. "Ah, yes. The academic tyrant has arrived."
"Here to ruin our morning, as always," Gali muttered under her breath.
Maiven sighed. "What's up, Adrielle?"
Adrielle didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her eyes swept over Maiven, sharp and calculating.
"Something happened," she stated. It wasn’t a question.
Maiven tensed. "What are you talking about?"
"Don’t play dumb. You look like a train wreck. So, what was it?"
Maiven clenched her jaw. "Drop it, Adrielle."
But Adrielle never just dropped things.
Instead, she smirked. "Fine. If you won’t talk, let’s see if you can still think."
Maiven frowned. "What—"
A folder was tossed onto her lap.
"Debate. You, me. Two professors judging. Let’s see if you’ve lost your edge or if you can still keep up."
Maiven stared at the folder.
Jorge whistled. "Damn, straight to the academic violence, huh?"
"She doesn’t waste time," Gali added.
"Of course, she doesn’t," Cali sighed.
Maiven narrowed her eyes at Adrielle. "Are you seriously challenging me first thing in the morning?"
"I assumed you’d appreciate the distraction," Adrielle said, tilting her head. "Unless, of course, you’d rather sit here wallowing in whatever happened last night."
Maiven gritted her teeth. She knew exactly what Adrielle was doing. She was giving her something else to focus on, something to get her out of her own head.
And it was working.
"Fine," Maiven said, flipping the folder open. "But don’t complain when you lose."
Adrielle smirked. "You assume I would ever lose to you."
Jorge and Gali exchanged glances.
"Should we start a bet?" Jorge whispered.
"I give them ten minutes before they start yelling at each other," Gali replied.
"Five," Cali corrected.
Maiven let out a breath, tension easing just slightly as the familiar rhythm of competition settled in. She wasn’t spiraling. She wasn’t drowning in last night.
She was here.
She was moving forward.
But across the courtyard, someone else was watching.
Avara.
She had been walking through campus, mind elsewhere, when she saw them, Maiven, laughing with her friends, eyes bright as she bantered with Adrielle.
She looked carefree.
For the first time, Avara saw Maiven smiling and laughing her head off.
And it hurt.
Before she could stop herself, she pulled out her phone and dialed Maiven’s number. She watched as Maiven’s hand instinctively reached for her bag. She saw Maiven glance at the screen, saw the slight pause. For a second, hope flickered.
But then—
Maiven just exhaled, pressed her lips together, and put her phone back in her bag. And just like that, she went back to laughing with her friends.
Avara’s stomach dropped. She had always been so sure that Maiven would be there. That no matter what, she would always answer.
But today, she didn’t.
And for the first time, Avara realized—
Maybe Maiven was finally learning to live without her.