CLAIRE's POV
The first rays of sunlight filter through the sheer curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. I wake up to the soft sound of Bada's breathing beside me, a rhythmic lull that should be comforting but only reminds me of the fleeting nature of our arrangement. I open my eyes slowly, feeling the weight of the previous night's emotions settle heavily on my chest.
Bada is still asleep, her face relaxed and peaceful, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside me. Her dark hair is splayed across the pillow, framing her features in a way that makes her look almost ethereal. I can't help but reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, a tender gesture that feels both intimate and painful.
"How do I fight this feeling knowing you can't reciprocate it?"
I whispered while caressing her face slowly and lightly. I smiled bitterly and carefully slip out of bed, trying not to disturb her, and head to the kitchen. The apartment is eerily quiet, the only sounds the faint creak of the floorboards beneath my feet and the soft hum of the refrigerator. I start the coffee maker, the comforting smell of brewing coffee slowly filling the space. It's a routine I've grown accustomed to, something to ground me after nights like this.
As the coffee brews, I sit at the kitchen table, staring at the mug I've set out for Bada. It's one of those moments where reality sets in with a crushing force. I think about the nature of our relationship—the unspoken agreement we have, the boundaries that we both respect but that I can't help but push against. I feel the familiar pang of longing, the ache of wanting something more than what we have.
"Napakadali mong mahalin. Pero napakahirap at the same time." I smiled bitterly with what I said. Sino ba naman kasing tanga na di pumigil sa nararamdaman?? Haysss.
The coffee maker beeps, signaling that it's finished. I pour two cups, adding just a touch of cream and sugar to Bada's, as I know she likes. As I carry the mugs back to the bedroom, my heart aches with the realization that these small gestures of care are part of a routine that's both comforting and heart-wrenching.
When I return to the bedroom, Bada is stirring, her eyes fluttering open. She blinks sleepily, her gaze meeting mine with a soft, confused smile. The sight of her first thing in the morning, with her face still soft from sleep, is both beautiful and painful.
"Morning," I say softly, trying to keep my voice light. I set her mug on the nightstand next to her.
"Hey," she murmurs, stretching languidly. She sits up, rubbing her eyes and then reaching for the coffee. "You didn't have to make this."
I shrug, forcing a casual smile. "Just a little something to start the day. Thought you might like it."
Bada takes a sip, her expression relaxing into a contented smile. "Thanks. This is perfect."
I sit on the edge of the bed, my own mug in hand. The silence between us is comfortable, yet I can't shake the feeling that something is missing. I watch as Bada sips her coffee, her eyes closing momentarily in pleasure. There's a part of me that wants to reach out, to tell her how I feel, but I know it's not the right moment.
"Got any plans for today?" I ask, attempting to steer the conversation away from anything too personal.
She shakes her head, taking another sip of coffee. "Not really. Just needed to unwind. Might head to the gym later. What about you?"
I think about the day ahead—work, errands, and the endless tasks that keep me busy. "Just the usual. Maybe go for a run later, catch up on some work."
There's a pause, a moment where we both seem to be searching for words, for something to bridge the gap between us. Bada sets her coffee mug down and leans back against the headboard, her expression thoughtful.
"I'm glad we did this," she says finally, her tone sincere. "It's been a while since I've just relaxed."
I nod, trying to keep my emotions in check. "Yeah, me too."
The conversation drifts into small talk about trivial matters. Plans for the week, upcoming events, and the latest news. It's all surface-level, a necessary distraction from the deeper feelings that lurk beneath.
As I stare at her, I can't help but to feel deeply inlove with this view. Every sip she take, every movement she make, It draws me in.
"Hey, Why are you staring at me? Madumu ba mukha ko?" And she wiped her face as if she has something on it.
"Oo. Ampangit mo pala pag umaga" I jokingly said and she just stuck out her tongue and make-face.
"Alam mo, ang epal mo din eh noh? Kala mo hindi sinisigaw pangalan ko kagabi." She smirked.
I sipped at my coffee and tried to distract myself with other things for her not to see my tomato face.
As the morning wears on, Bada gets up, beginning to gather her things. She moves with the same ease and confidence that she always does, as if our time together was just another part of her routine. I watch her, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of her leaving. The reality of our arrangement. Casual,
no-strings-attached—hits me hard.
When she's ready to go, Bada gives me a quick, casual hug, a gesture that's both familiar and impersonal. "Thanks for the night. I needed this."
"Anytime," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
She heads for the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The apartment feels empty as soon as she's gone, the silence echoing louder than before. I sink down onto the bed, staring at the spot where she was just moments ago. The ache of unfulfilled longing settles in my chest, a reminder of the love I can't have.
Kahit man lang isang mahigpit na yakap ang ginawa mo.
I reach for my phone, hoping to distract myself with messages or social media. I scroll through my feed aimlessly, but nothing seems to hold my attention. The day stretches out before me, an endless expanse of time that feels heavy and unremarkable without her.
I get up eventually, forcing myself to get dressed and start the day. The tasks ahead seem daunting, and I move through them in a haze, my mind constantly drifting back to Bada and the moments we shared. Every detail, every fleeting touch, is a reminder of the boundaries that I'm not allowed to cross, of the love that will never be reciprocated.
As the day progresses, I try to stay busy, to push away the lingering feelings of longing and heartache. But as evening falls, I find myself back at the apartment, the quiet settling over me once more. The loneliness is palpable, a constant companion in the space that Bada once occupied.
I sit at the kitchen table again, staring at the untouched coffee mug and the remnants of our morning together. The emptiness of the apartment is a stark contrast to the warmth that Bada brought into it, and I'm left with the echo of her presence, a bittersweet reminder of what I can't have.
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deluluna
