Fated to Forget

Part 9: Study Dates and Close Calls

The mock trial consumed their week.

From Tuesday to Friday, Leni and Bongbong were everywhere together—library corners, empty classrooms, coffee shops that stayed open too late. To everyone else, it was normal. Academic. Two overachievers pushing for the win.

But between them, nothing was normal anymore.

Because every time their fingers brushed passing a notebook, every time they leaned in to look at the same page, every time their eyes met and held just a second too long—there was something else.

Something they weren’t talking about.

And that silence was getting louder.

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Thursday night. 10:47 PM. Law library, third floor.

Leni sat cross-legged in the corner booth, highlighting an excerpt on premeditation, but she hadn’t absorbed a single word in ten minutes.

Across from her, Bongbong scribbled case notes, one hand in his hair, eyes narrowed in concentration. A small piece of his shirt sleeve was rolled up, revealing a fading scar near his elbow.

It should’ve been ordinary.

But she kept looking.

“You’re staring,” he said without glancing up.

“I’m not,” she lied.

He finally looked at her, and his voice softened. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“I’m always quiet,” she replied, flipping a page.

“Not with me.”

Leni held his gaze. “What are we doing, Bong?”

The question landed like a pin in a cathedral.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes dark and unreadable. “I don’t know.”

There was a pause. Then:

“Do you want me to stop?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Because the truth was complicated. It always had been.

“I just...” she started, but the words didn’t come.

Bongbong closed the file and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You don’t have to say it, Leni. But I need you to know—when I kissed you, it wasn’t an accident.”

She looked at him, eyes wide, throat tight. “It felt like a mistake.”

“And yet,” he said gently, “you haven’t run away.”

That was the problem.

She should have.

But instead, she was here, night after night, letting something unfold between them that neither law nor logic could explain.

Their hands were so close now—almost touching. One shift, one choice, and it would happen again.

Another kiss.

Another break in the rules she’d built so carefully.

She swallowed. “I can’t afford to be distracted.”

“Then don’t be,” he said. “But don’t lie to yourself, either.”

There it was.

The near-confession.

The edge of something real.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

And that silence? It said everything.

To be continue......