STRINGS BETWEEN US

CHAPTER ONE: OF DINNER TABLES, UNSAID GOODBYES, AND THE NAME THAT STAYED

Before I knew it, I was there.

Warm lights. Clinking silverware. Laughter from people I didn't know. And her. Sitting at the far end of the table.

Laughing.

Like nothing had broken. Like she hadn't left me to build a new family without me.

Our eyes met. She stood up immediately. "Anak-"

"Don't," I snapped. "Please. Just... don't."

I sat at the farthest end of the table. That dance of resistance? That was it. I was here, but not for her. I noticed the stares right away. Some subtle. Some obvious.

But one look hit harder than all the others.

His.

Khaizer Dylan.

Sitting near the window, his white shirt slightly wrinkled, a silver chain peeking out from under the collar. That same unreadable expression on his face, like he was studying me.

I pretended not to notice. He didn't pretend at all.

After dinner, I stepped outside for air.

The night was cooler. Quieter.

Until I heard footsteps behind me.

"You're not used to noise," he said.

"I'm not used to the whole happy family vibe," I muttered, arms crossed tight over my chest.

There was a pause. Then he held out a hand. "Khaizer Dylan Dela Vega."

I raised an eyebrow. "I know. I heard your name earlier."

He grinned. "Formality."

I looked at his hand. Then, after a few seconds of resistance, I shook it, maybe a little too sharply.

"Arielle Rylance Del Rio."

"That's long. Got a nickname?"

"Seriously? Coming from you? 'Khaizer Dylan' isn't exactly short."

He laughed. Genuinely. Not forced.

I let out a small sigh. "Rielle."

He raised a brow. "Rielle, huh? Doesn't fit."

"Wow. Thanks for the insult."

He looked at me for a long time. Like he was reading something between the lines.

Then, softly, almost too soft. "I think I'll call you Riyee."

I froze.

"That's what my mom used to call me."

"Then I'll be the second," he said. "And no one else gets to follow."

I rolled my eyes again. "You're so full of yourself."

And maybe, just maybe... I let him. But only this once.

"You gave me permission," he said. "I just decided to keep it."

Touché, again.

Khaizer Dylan Dela Vegas's POV

She didn't say anything after that.

Just leaned against the railing, eyes scanning the yard like her mind was somewhere far away.

But I watched her. The way she pulled her sleeves over her fingers. The way one foot angled toward the door, like she still expected to run if it all got too much.

The way she flinched, barely, when I called her that name.

Riyee.

It fit her. Not because it was sweet. But because it wasn't.

It was a name that knew her before she decided the world didn't deserve to. And now... it belonged to me, too. She didn't look at me. But she knew I was still there.

"Stop staring at me like that," she muttered.

I turned away before she could catch the smirk pulling at my lips.

The sky had turned that deep, aching blue, the kind that looked like it was chasing something it once loved and lost. And I realized, she was like that too. Too far to touch. Too loud to ignore. Too shattered to be fixed by anyone who only meant well.

But I stayed anyway. I didn't say good night. She didn't say thank you. But as I stepped back into the house, one thought stayed with me:

Riyee.

Only I get to call her that.

And for the first time, I wondered what she'd call me back.