For years, Jeo and I had our routines.
Christmas with my family. New Year's with his.
It was a rhythm I didn't realize I'd taken for granted, until the year we stopped.
This year, it's just me and Sky.
I parked my car after doing groceries. I didn't wait for anyone anymore. Didn't text that I was on my way home. I grabbed the bags myself, balancing them against my hip and rode the elevator up in silence.
I could carry it all by myself now.
Because I was cooking for one.
When I got inside, I set the groceries down and went straight to the kitchen. I reached for the bigger pan out of habit.
I stopped halfway.
I didn't need it anymore. I was cooking for one.
I unpacked the groceries slowly. Vegetables. Garlic. Butter. And steak.
Two of them.
I frowned. Only realised it at the counter earlier, when the cashier asked if I wanted them packed together. I froze one when I got home. Labeled it later, even though I knew I wouldn't touch it.
The condo was too quiet for Christmas. Even Sky's paws sounded loud against the floor.
She lifted her head first. Nose twitching. Tail stiff.
"Sky?" I whispered.
She stood, whining softly, padding toward the door before I heard anything at all.
She knew.
The knock came seconds later,
careful. Like the person on the other side wasn't sure they deserved to be there.
Then it hit me.
Jeo in the kitchen, holding out a plate with that hopeful grin.
"Try this."
It was never right. Always overcooked. Never medium rare like I liked it.
I teased him every time.
And every time, he said, Next time.
I opened the door.
Sky barked and launched herself at him before I could say a word. Jeo laughed softly, crouching to hold her, pressing his face into her fur like he'd done a hundred times before.
"She remembers," I said.
"I hoped she would."
He stood, eyes flicking to mine only for a second, like he wasn't sure he was allowed to look for longer.
"Taste test," he said quietly, holding up the plate.
I took it.
The steak was warm. Pink in the middle. Juices pooling exactly where they should.
Perfect.
My throat closed.
"You finally got it," I whispered.
He nodded, not smiling. "I kept trying."
We stood there with everything unsaid pressing between us.
"I just wanted to see you," he said. "I didn't expect anything."
If he stayed, I would let him.
If he called tomorrow, I would answer.
And I didn't trust myself to survive that.
Sky nudged my leg, tail wagging uncertainly. I knelt, breathing her in, then stood again.
"Merry Christmas, Jeo," I said, voice breaking despite my best efforts.
"Please don't call."
Not because I didn't want him.
But because now—
he'd finally learned how to love me the way I asked.
And it was too late.
He nodded once. His hand lifted, then dropped.
I closed the door before either of us could be brave enough to stay.
Behind me, the condo smelled like steak cooked just right.
Outside, Makati shimmered with Christmas lights.
Some things are perfected only after you no longer get to keep them.
Perfectly, painfully
medium rare.
