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The night before graduation, Aiah couldn't sleep.
Not because she was nervous.
She had spoken on stages before. She knew how to stand in front of people and look steady.
This felt different.
This was kind of quiet that followed you into bed. The kind that asked questions you couldn't delegate to anyone else.
What happens when you're no longer needed in the same way?
She stared at the ceilings of her room, phone resting on her chest, screen dark. No more announcement to draft. No more reminders to send. No meetings waiting for her in the morning.
Just Graduation.
Graduation ceremonies felt unreal.
Maybe it was the way the auditorium glowed — warm amber lights washing over rows of graduates. Or how everything sounded distant, like she was underwater. Applause, cheers, the occasional sob. All of it blending into one long exhale after years of trying to be enough.
She sat near the front, posture straight out of habit. Four years of seeing the same faces pass her by — campus events, emergency meetings, rushed morning with coffee in her hand. She knew the loud ones. The overachievers.
She thought she knew everyone.
Apparently, she didn't.
Because two rows to her left, slightly turned toward her friends, laughing with her head back like she had nothing to lose, was Colet. And Aiah noticed her far too late. It wasn't dramatic.
Oh.
She's pretty.
Not the intimidating kind. The kind that looked warm. Familiar.
Aiah frowned slightly.
She would've remember her.
She remembered everyone.
She thought to herself why the prettiest people show up only at graduation. Or maybe because she was busy attending meetings for four years for what.
The ceremony dragged on. Names called. Diplomas handed. Caps just adjusted for photos. Aiah barely heard any of it. Her eyes kept drifitng left.
Colet clapped for every name — even strangers. Leaned into whisper comments to her friends. Smiling like this day was something she wanted to keep forever.
"Okay," Aiah thought. "You're graduating. Hindi mo na siya makikita. That's fine."
It was not fine.
When the final speech ended and everyone stood, the room erupted. Cheers, whistles, people crying openly now. The moment everyone had been waiting for.
And before the crowd could fully scatter, Aiah stood up.
Heart pounding.
Her phone buzzed.
Minsan Student, Madalas Student Council
Treasurer: Picture tayo after, please.
Secretary: So much proud! Congrats sa lahat!
President: U did all great! don't disappear agad, ha.
Aiah locked her phone.
She took a breath.
If not now, never.
She walked.
Colet was fixing her stole when she felt someone stop in front of her.
She looked up.
The girl was.. composed. Calm-looking. Like she had her life together. Student council energy, definitely. But her eyes — slightly nervous.
"Yes po?" Colet asked, smiling politely.
Aiah swallowed. "Hi. Uh." She laughed once, awkward. "Ang random, sorry."
"It's okay," Colet said. "Graduation day naman. So, shoot."
That helped.
Aiah exhaled. "I just — this gonna sound weird pero nandito ako sa university for four years. Part din ako ng student council and I don't remember seeing you."
Colet blinked.
Then she laughed, surprised.
"Ah. That explains it."
"Explain ang alin?"
"I avoid student council events like the plague."
Aiah laughed too, relieved. "Ouch."
"Nothing personal naman," Colet said quickly. "Hindi lang ako mahilig makipag-interact sa ibang tao."
"That makes sense," Aiah said. Then, quieter, more honest. "I think I would've remembered you otherwise."
There it was.
The shot.
Colet tilted her head. "Talaga?"
"Yeah." Aiah smiled "And now I'm thinking — sayang."
Colet studied her for a second, then smiled wider. "Sayang ang alin?"
Aiah's heart raced. But she didn't look away.
"Sayang na ngayon lang kita nakita."
Silence. Not awkward.
Then Colet laughed — not teasing.
"Grabe. Ang straightforward, ha."
"Graduation courage," Aiah admitted. "Expires today."
Colet nodded. "Valid."
She glanced around, then back at Aiah. "So, anong plano mo? Shoot your shot tapos aalis na?"
Aiah hesitated. Then pulled out her phone.
"I was hoping maybe.. coffee? After this. If you're free."
"Okay," she said. "Pero fair warning, ha. Hindi ako pang casual o formal."
Aiah chuckled. "Good. Kasi pagod na ako maging formal."
They exchange phones.
Name saved.
Later that night, after the noise died down, after the caps were stored away and the gowns hung to rest, Aiah sat in her bed staring at her phone.
10:32 PM Colet: so, coffee bukas? or magre-review ka pa ng attendance kahit graduate na tayo.
Aiah smiled to herself.
10:35 PM Aiah: Coffee bukas
10:35 PM Aiah: No minutes of meeting. Promise.
After talking to Colet she immediately called her friends.
"Guys," Aiah said the moment the call connected. She didn't even wait for greetings. "I think I just met the most unfairly attractive person in this entire university."
There was a pause.
Then—
"Teka nga," Maloi said. "Just met?"
"Yes."
"Kanina?"
"Yes."
"Sa graduation day natin?"
Aiah rolled onto her side. "Exactly."
"Oh my God," Stacey groaned. "Syempre. Syempre nangyari ngayon."
"I hate it here," Aiah said. "I spent years running around campus, memorizing faces, org lists. Alam ko rin kung sino hindi nag-attend ng assemblies, kung sino nag-cucutting classes—but apparently not well enough."
"So, sino siya?" Maloi asked. "Faculty? Alumna? or stranger lang?"
"Graduate," Aiah replied quietly. "Like us."
"NO."
"YES!"
"Pero bakit ngayon lang?"
"That's my question," Aiah said. "I literally thought, wow, ang ganda niya. Then my brain went, teka—nandito siya the whole time?"
Then stacey laughed. "Edi anong ginawa mo?"
Aiah hesitated. Then sighed. "Kinausap ko siya."
Silence.
Then— "You what?"
"I didn't mean to," she said quickly. "Nakaupo lang ako doon. Napaisip ako, if I don't do this, I'll think about it forever."
Maloi softened. "And?"
"And she was nice," Aiah said, voice quieter now. "Tumawa siya nung sinabi kong hindi ko siya na-recognize."
The line explode again.
"VICE PRESIDENT AIAH"
"GRABE KA."
"SINO KA AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO OUR EMOTIONALLY RESERVED LEADER?"
Aiah smilled to her pillow. "I blame graduation courage."
"Ni-reject ka ba?"
"Hindi."
"Did she accept it?"
"... Yes."
A beat.
Then, softer cheers. The kind that didn't tease.
"That's cute," Stacey said. "Pero alam mo bang nagra-rant ka ngayon, tapos mamaya ma-attach ka na?
Aiah laughed. "I'm already halfway there.
Later, when the call ended and the room felt quiet again, Aiah opened another message.
11:22 PM. Colet: it keeps replaying on my head kung anong nangyari. hindi ko inexpect na may lalapit sa'kin. hahaha
Aiah stared at the screen, thumb hovering.
11:24 PM. Aiah: I almost didn't. Student council brain kept saying 'inappropriate timing.'
11:24 PM. Colet: pero ginawa mo pa rin.
A pause.
Aiah smiled, small, and unguarded.
She realized something then.
For four years, she thought being visible meant being everywhere — leading, organizing, showing up.
But maybe some people weren't meant to be noticed early.
Maybe some people arrived exactly when you finally stopped being busy enough to see them.
And for the first time since graduation ended, Aiah felt like something was just beginning.
They chose a cafe far from campus.
Not intentionally, at first. They just kept walking until the building the buildings stopped looking familiar, until Aiah realized she didn't recognize the street names anymore.
The cafe was small. Warm lights. Wooden tables with uneven legs. The kind of place where people stayed longer than necessary.
Colet arrived first this time.
Aiah spotted her immediately — not because she stood out, but because her presence felt.. settled. She was sitting by the window, hands wrapped around a mug, gaze unfocused as she watched people pass by outside.
When Colet noticed her, her face lit up in a wat that felt private.
"Hi," Colet said when Aiah reached the table.
"Hi," Aiah replied, suddenly aware of her own heartbeat.
They sat.
Ordered.
Waited.
"So," Colet said eventually, smiling lightly, "anong pakiramdam na gumising kang walang responsiblities?"
Aiah leaned back, considering. "Illegal."
Colet laughed, but paying attention to what Aiah saying.
"I keep thinking I am the something important that I forgot," Aiah admitted.
Colet tilted her head, "That sounds heavy."
"It is," Aiah said honestly. "But also lighter than I expected."
Colet nodded, like she understood exactly what she meant.
They talked for hours.
Not about anything urgent. Just everything that had been waiting quietly in the background.
About childhood routines. About the pressure of expectations that were never spoken out loud. About how both of them learned, in different ways, to take as little space as possible — or too much.
"I think I got used to being seen only when I was useful," Aiah said at one point, tracing the rim of her cup.
Colet listened, eyes steady.
Aiah looked at her then, really looked.
"But that doesn't mean you weren't worth noticing, Aiah." She said softly.
Aiah smiled, small and almost embarrassed. "I'm starting to learn that."
They didn't call it a date.
They didn't need to.
They walked afterward, unhurried, steps falling into same rhythm. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn't. They don't mind it either. The silence between them didn't feel like something to fill — it felt like something to share.
When they reached a corner where they'd have to part ways, neither of them moved immediately.
"So," Aiah said, hands tucked in her pockets, "same time tayo next time?"
"Ganiyan pala mag shoot ng shot ang isang vice president." Colet teased.
"Baliw." Aiah said and they both laughed.
Colet smiled, nodded. "Same time next time, Aiah. And also, I'm glad that you talked to me."
Aiah smiled. "I am too."
And when they said goodbye, it didn't felt like an ending.
It felt like permission.
The days that followed didn't blur together — they stretched.
Aiah started noticing how differently time moved when it wasn't scheduled. Mornings were softer. Afternoons felt longer. Evenings didn't rush her toward tomorrow.
She still talked to her friends, of course.
"At diyan na mag-uumpisa," Maloi warned playfully over the phone. "Ngumingiti ka na ng walang dahilan."
"I have reasons," Aiah replied, defensive but amused.
"Uh-uh. Sure."
But when the call ended, Aiah admitted — at least to herself — that something had shifted.
She wasn't chasing the feeling.
She was letting it arrive.
Colet, meanwhile, was adjusting her own way.
She wasn't used to being chosen deliberately.
Not casually, not accidentally — but intentionally.
When Aiah asked her out again, when she checked in without expectation, when she listened without trying to fix things, it unsettled Colet in a quiet, unfamiliar way.
One evening, as they sat on a low near wall near a park, Colet spoke without looking at her.
"Can I be honest?"
Aiah turned towed her immediately. "Shoot. Ano yun?"
"I tend to disappear when things starts to feel heavy and matter." Colet said.
Aiah didn't flinch.
"Thank you sa pagsabi sa'kin," she said instead.
Colet glanced at her, surprised. "You're not.. worried?"
Aiah shrugged. "I am. Kaunti. Pero mas gusto kong malaman kaysa hulaan. Sinabi mo sa'kin, you're honest about it and I'd love to know everything about you."
Colet exhaled, something like relief passing through her.
They sat there, shoulder to shoulder, the city humming around them.
And for now, that was enough.
—
They didn't see each other everyday.
It wasn't a rule — they just didn't force it.
And still, somehow, they found each other again. Aiah's making sure that she have time for her.
One late afternoon, Aiah found herself sitting on the edge of her bed, scrolling aimlessly. She hesitated, then typed.
4:27 PM. Aiah: Are you free today? Gusto mo ba maglakad-lakad?
Then reply came a few minutes later.
4:30 PM. Colet: i do.
No follow-up questions. No "where" or "until when." Just yes.
They met near a small park neither of them had strong feeling about. That became the point — neutral ground.
They walked side by side, steps slow, arms occasionally brushing.
"Ang tahimik mo ngayon," Colet observed.
Aiah nodded. "Dahil lang siguro sa pagod, but I'm okay."
Colet didn't respond immediately. Instead, she slow her pace, just a little, until Aiah matched it without thinking.
"That kind of tired needs company," Colet said gently.
Aiah swallowed. "Offer ba 'yan?"
"Syempre naman," Colet replied.
They kept walking.
Aiah started noticing things about Colet that didn't announce themselves.
They way she listened with her whole body, not just her eyes. How she rarely interrupted but always remembered. How she laughed quietly at first, like she needed to check if it was safe to enjoy the moment fully.
As they sat on a bench watching the sky fade from blue to something softer, Aiah asked, "Bakit hindi ka sumali sa mga orgs?"
Colet shrugged. "Feel ko hindi ako belong doon."
Aiah frowned, "You would've."
Colet glanced at her. "Talaga?"
"I know so," Aiah said, then paused. "Pero gets ko bakit hindi ka sumali."
Colet smiled faintly, then teased. "Ikaw ang unang nagsabi niyan without trying to convince me. At kung kailan graduate na tayo."
Aiah leaned back, smiling. "Maybe not everything has to be optimized."
Colet laughed quietly. "Galing pa talaga sa'yo. Character development 'yan."
Aiah groaned. "Ang papansin lang."
After hour of walking and talking, they've decided to grab a coffee.
"Hindi ko alam kung anong gusto mo," Aiah said. "Kaya inorder ko na land dalawa."
Colet stared at her for a second, then laughed. "You're ridiculous."
"Take it or leave it na lang."
Colet took both.
Later, walking home, she said softly, "Wala pang nakagawa nun para sa'kin."
Aiah didn't respond with a joke this time. "Ako. Gagawin ko," she said instead.
Months and months had passed without either of them marking it.
Just a growing familiarity that slipped into their lives the way habits do — softly, until one day you realize you can't imagine things without it.
They kept hanging out.
Not out of obligation. Not because they were trying to build something.
But because it felt natural to ask, Are you free today?
And even more natural to answer, Yeah. I am.
Sometimes it was coffee that turned into walking. Sometimes it was walking turned into sitting somewhere neither of them had planned on. There were days when they didn't talk much at all — just shared space, shared air, shared silence.
Aiah never pushed.
Not because she was unsure. Yes, she makes her move or what they called it shoot your shot.
But because she was certain.
Certain that whatever this deserved time. Certain that Colet wasn't something to rush toward, but someone to walk beside.
She liked learning Colet slowly.
They she preferred certain streets over them. The way she always read menus carefully, even when ordering the same thing. The way she paused before answering questions that mattered, like she wanted to give the truth room to breathe first.
One afternoon, they sat on the floor of Aiah's living room, backs against the couch, an old movie playing in the background neither of them was really watching.
"Pwede akong magtanong?" Colet said, eyes still on the screen.
Aiah nodded. "Go ahead."
"Bakit hindi ka nagtatanong?" Colet asked.
Aiah blinked. "About saan?"
"About us," Colet said quielty. "About kung ano 'to."
Aiah didn't answer right away. She turned the volume down instead, then looked at Colet fully.
"Because I don't want you to feel like you owe me an answer," she answer. "And I'm okay learning you first. Hindi kita minamadali."
Colet studied her face, searching for something — pressure, maybe. Expectation.
She didn't find it.
"Hindi ka ba napapagod?" Colet asked. "Waiting?"
Aiah smiled, soft. "Hindi ako naghihintay. I'm just here."
Something in Colet's shoulder relaxed at that.
Their bond grew in the small things.
In shared routines that weren't declared, but chosen.
Friday evening became theirs — not officially, but often that Aiah noticed when one passed without them seeing each other. Sunday mornings were quieter; sometimes they texted, sometimes they didn't, but they always knew that other existed in that space.
Colet started opening up without realizing it.
She talked about her childhood more. About how she learned early to stay out of the way. About how she was praised for being easy, low-maintenance, invisible.
"I thought that was a good thing," she said one night, sitting beside Aiah on the balcony. "Hindi pala."
Aiah listened. elbow resting on her knees.
"It kept you safe," she said gently. "But it doesn't have to keep you small."
Colet let out a slow breath. "Lagi kang nagsasabi ng ganiyan."
"Like what?"
"Like you're not trying to fix me," Colet replied. "You're just.. reminding me."
Aiah looked at her then. something warm and steady in her chest.
She just leaned closer, shoulder brushing Aiah's arm — and this time, she didn't move away.
—
There were moments when Aiah felt urge to say more.
To name what was already there.
But she held it carefully.
Not out of fear of rejection — but out of trust. Trust that Colet would step forward when she was ready. Trust that love didn't have to be pulled into existence.
One evening, as they waited for their food at a small place they'd started frequenting, Colet suddenly said, "Alam mo bang you're very patient."
Aiah laughed softly. "That's new."
"I don't mean like you're waiting for something." Colet clarified. "I mean, you don't make me feel like I am late."
That stayed with Aiah.
Later that night, lying in bed, she thought about all times she'd rushed people before — not intentionally, but unconsciously. How she'd assumed movement with progress.
With Colet, she was learning something else.
That stillness could be movement too.
—
The first time Colet reached for her hand without hesitation, it surprised both of them.
They were crossing the street, traffic louder than usual. Colet fingers slipped into Aiah's like it was instinct.
Neither of them spoke.
They just kept walking.
Afterward, Colet laughed nervously "Sorry."
Aiah squeezed her hand before once letting go. "You don't have to apologize."
Colet looked at her, eyes searching. "You're sure?"
"I am," Aiah said.
That night, Colet texted her before sleeping.
11:48 PM. Colet: Thank you for not rushing me, Aiah.
Aiah stared at the message for a long time before replying.
11:55 PM Aiah: Thank you for staying, Cole.
By the time the months had fully settled into their bones, the bond between them was undeniable.
Not dramatic.
Just deep.
Rooted.
And growing quietly, exactly the way both of them needed.
Aiah knew — without doubt — that when Colet finally decided to step closer, it wouldn't be because she was pushed.
It would be because she felt safe enough to choose it herself.
And Aiah was more willing to wait inside that safety.
Before Aiah admitted anything, she made sure.
Not in the anxious, checklist kind of way — but in the way people do when they know what's at stake and refuse to be careless with it.
She gave herself time.
Weeks where she said nothing even when the words hovered at the back of her throat. Weeks where she paid attention not just how she felt with Colet — but how she felt without her.
Sher asked herself the difficult questions during the quiet hours.
Was it loneliness after graduation?
Was it comfort mistaken for attachment?
Was is safety of being chosen without being demanded?
And every time she sat with answers, they came back steady.
No panic.
No fear of being alone.
Just truth.
She still felt like herself when Colet wasn't around.
Still whole. Still grounded.
And that mattered.
One afternoon, Aiah met up with her friends — the same ones she'd ranted to months ago, the same ones who knew her patterns better than she liked to admit.
They sat in cafe, sunlight filtering through the windows, conversation drifting until someone finally asked, "So, kamusta kayo?"
Aiah smiled into her drink. "We're good."
"Hindi naman 'yan ang sagot," Stacey said, amused.
"It is," Aiah replied. "Because I'm not confused."
That made them quiet.
Maloi leaned back. "Do you like her?"
Aiah didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Do you love her?"
Aiah paused — not because she doubted it, but because she respected the weight of the word.
"Yes," she said finally said. "But I'm not saying it yet."
"Bakit?" someone asked gently.
"Because love isn't just something I feel," Aiah said. "It's something I choose to take responsibility for. And I need to be sure I'm ready for that — even if she isn't yet."
Her friends exchange looks — not teasing, not worried.
Proud.
"Aiah," Stacey said softly, "you're different with her."
Aiah smiled. "I know. That's how I know it's real."
She tested herself in small ways.
She imagined Colet pulling away — and asked herself if she would still wish her well.
She imagined Colet choosing someone else — and checked if jealousy outweighed care.
It didn't.
What she felt wasn't possessive. It wasn't loud.
It was steady.
She watched how Colet trusted her more now — how she reached out first sometimes, how she stayed without being asked, how she no longer flinched at closeness.
And Aiah made herself a promise:
I will only say it when it becomes an offering — not a request.
The night she decided, it wasn't romantic.
It was quiet.
She was in her room, folding laundry, when the thought settled into her chest with unexpected calm.
I don't want to protect myself from loving her.
I want to be honest — with no expectation of return.
That was when she knew.
So, Aiah didn't decide to admit her feelings all at once.
It came to her in pieces.
In the way she started pausing before answering Colet, not because she didn't know what to say, but because she wanted to say it right. In the way she caught herself imagining the future — not a dramatic one, not forever yet — but small things; grocery lists, shared mornings, quiet arguments that ended in understanding.
She didn't panic when she realized it.
She sat with it.
Because she had learned, with Colet, that rushing wasn't love — it was fear disguised as urgency. And what she felt now wasn't fear.
It was clarity.
They were sitting on the floor again, backs against the couch, legs stretched out in front of them. The windows were open, letting in the sound of the distant traffic and the soft hum of the city settling into evening.
Colet was flipping through book she's borrowed from Aiah weeks ago.
"Alam mo," Colet said casually, "Eto na siguro ang pinakamatagal na hiniram ko na hindi binalik."
Aiah smiled. "You can keep it naman."
Colet glanced at her. "Talaga?"
"Yeah," Aiah said. "Something are meant to stay longer."
Colet laughed softly. "You always say things like that."
Aiah didn't laugh this time.
She shifted slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. Her hands clasped together — not tense, just grounding.
"Cole," she said.
The tone alone made Colet look up.
"Hmm?"
"There's something I want to tell you," Aiah continued. "Hindi naman siya urgent. Hindi mo rin naman kailangan sagutin agad."
Colet closed the book slowly. "Okay."
Aiah took a breath. Not because she was nervous — but because she wanted to be present for this moment. Fully.
"I've been really careful," she said. "Not just with you — with with myself. I didn't want to confuse comfort with attachment. Or attention with intention."
Colet listened. eyes steady.
"And what I've realized," Aiah went on, "is that what i feel for you didn't come from excitement. It came from peace."
Colet's fingers tightened slightly around the book.
"I like how we are," Aiah said. "I like learning you. I like choosing you without pressure. And somewhere along the way.. I started loving you."
She didn't rush past the word.
She let it sit between them — open, unguarded.
"And I'm not asking you to be anything," Aiah added gently. "Hindi kita hinihingan ng kung anong kapalit. I just wanted to be honest with you. Because you deserve that."
The room felt impossibly quiet.
Colet didn't look away. She didn't smile. She didn't flinch.
She breathed.
"Mahal mo ako," she repeated softly.
"Yes," Aiah said. "I do."
There was a long pause.
Too long for panic. Too quiet for avoidance.
Colet set the book down beside her, careful, deliberate.
"I've been afraid of that word," she admitted. "Not because of you. But because of what it used to mean to me."
Aiah nodded. "Alam ko."
"Pero dahil sa'yo," Colet continued, voice barely above a whisper, "it doesn't feel heavy. It feels earned."
She looked at Aiah the, eyes glassy but steady.
"I'm not there yet," Colet said honestly. "I can't say it back — not in the same way."
Aiah's heart didn't sink.
"That's okay," she said. And she meant it.
"But," Colet added, her voice firmer now, "I know I'm walking toward you. Hindi na ako umatras."
Aiah smiled softly. "That's all I need to know."
Colet reached out, slow and intentional, and took Aiah's hand.
Not tentative.
Not rushed.
Just sure.
They sat there like that for a while, fingers intertwined, the confession settling into the space between them — not as pressure, but as truth.
Later, when Colet rested her head against Aiah's shoulder, she murmured. "Thank you for telling me. And thank you for not asking me to be ready before I am."
Aiah leaned her head gently against Colet's. "And thank you for staying."
Outside, the city continued its quiet rhythm.
Inside, something had been named — not to rush it forward, but to let it grow without shadows.
—
She watched for signs — not to measure progress, but to make sure she wouldn't cross harm.
She noticed how Colet reached for her hand more often now, without hesitation. How she leaned into Aiah during movies. How she started using we in sentence without realizing it.
And still, Aiah waited.
Not passively. Not silently.
She showed her feelings in ways that didn't demand anything back.
By remembering how Colet took her coffee.
By checking in when she went quiet.
By staying consistent — even on days when affection wasn't returned in the same way.
Especially on those days.
Because love, Aiah had learned, wasn't proven by intensity.
It was honest.
—
They found rhythm.
Mornings where they send each other photos of their coffee. Afternoons where they worked side by side in comfortable silence. Evening where they talked about theirs fears, hopes, their pasts — without trying to resolve anything at once.
One night, Colet admitted. "I used to leave before people could leave me."
Aiah listened, heart steady.
"Ngayon?" Aiah asked.
"Now I stay," Colet said. "Even when it scares me."
Aiah smiled, proud but not possessive. "I see that."
There was a moment — quiet, unremarkable — when Aiah realized she was no longer guarding her heart as carefully.
They were grocery shopping, arguing playfully about which brand of bread to buy.
"Mas masarap nga kasi 'to," Colet insisted.
"Mas practical nga kasi 'yon," Aiah countered.
They laughed, and Aiah caught herself thinking: This. This is it.
Not the argument. Not the bread.
But the way she felt completely present. Unafraid of loving someone without guarantees.
She didn't say it out loud.
She didn't need to.
—
One evening, as they walked home under a sky heavy with stars, Colet stopped and looked at Aiah with a seriousness that made her pause.
"I don't know when I'll be able to say it back," Colet said. "Pero gusto ko lang malaman mo na what you gave to me wasn't pressure. It was peace, Aiah."
Aiah met her gaze. "That means more to me than hearing the words."
Colet smiled, something resolves in her expression.
She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against Aiah's — gentle, unhurried, intentional.
They pulled back almost immediately, both a little breathless.
"Was that okay?" Colet asked.
Aiah laughed softly. "More than okay."
The kiss didn't change the world.
It didn't demand explanation or reshape what they already had. It didn't turn into something that needed to be discussed immediately, defined.
If anything, it softened everything.
They walked the rest of the way in comfortable quiet, shoulders brushing now and then, hands almost — but not quiet — finding each other again. When they reached Colet's place, she lingered by the door longer than usual.
"Message kita kapag nakapasok na ako," she said, a small smile playing on her lips.
"You always do," Aiah replied.
"I know. Gusto ko lang sabihin"
Aiah nodded, understanding more than words themselves carried.
That night, Aiah lay awake a little longer than usual — not replaying the kiss, not spiraling into hope — but noticing how calm she felt.
—
Weeks passed.
Then one night, without planning, Colet stayed over again.
They lay side by side, closer this time, arms brushing, legs tangled loosely. At some point, Colet shifted and rested her head on Aiah's chest.
Aiah froze for half a second — not because she didn't want it, but because she wanted to make sure it was welcome.
Colet hummed softly. "Okay lang?"
"Yeah," Aiah whispered. "It is."
They stayed like that, breathing together, the rhythm familiar now.
The next morning, sunlight crept in again.
They made breakfast quietly, still wrapped in the afterglow of shared sleep. No awkwardness.
At the door, Colet hesitated — then turned back.
"I'm not ready to say the words yet," she said, meeting Aiah's eyes. "But I'm getting close."
Aiah smiled, warm and unpressured. "I'll be here."
Colet leaned in, resting her forehead against Aiah's. "I know."
As the door closed behind her, Aiah felt something settle — not anticipation, no longing.
Trust.
Whatever this was becoming, it was growing the right way.
Slowly.
Together.
It didn't happened at all once.
Colet didn't wake up one day suddenly brave enough to say everything she'd been holding back. There was no dramatic realization, where the words finally demanded to be spoken.
What happened instead was quieter.
She started noticing how often Aiah was already there — before she could even miss her.
In the way Aiah texted ingat without sounding like obligation. In the way she remembered the smallest details without making them feels like debts. In the way she never asked Colet to promise anything, yet somehow made her feel chosen every single day.
And slowly, that scared her less.
The words didn't come out easily.
But something opened.
She talked about her fears without laughing them off. About the way she learned to disappear in relationships. About how love used to feel like something she had earn by being convenient.
One night, she curled up curled up beside Aiah on the couch, she said quietly, "Hindi ko alam paano maging.. steady."
Aiah turned toward her. "You already are, Cole."
Colet shook her head. "Hindi sa actions."
Aiah considered that. "Then we take it one day at a time."
Colet looked at her. "You're not tired?"
"No," Aiah said honestly. "I'm not."
That was the moment something clicked.
Colet took her time after that.
She let herself imagine a future — not a grand one, not forever yet — but something shaped like consistency. Mornings that didn't feel rushed. Arguments that didn't feel like threats. Love that didn't ask her to be smaller.
And every time she imagine it, Aiah was there — not demanding center stage, just present.
The realization didn't scare her anymore.
It steadied her.
The night she finally said it, there was no buildup.
No careful planning.
They were in Aiah's room, lights off except for the glow from the window. They lay side by side, facing each other, knees touching.
Aiah was half-sleep when Colet spoke.
"Aiah?"
"Hmm?" Aiah murmured.
"Gising ka pa?"
Aiah smiled faintly. "Of course."
Colet let out a breath, nervous this time — but not panicked.
"I've been thinking a lot," she said. "About us. About you."
Aiah turned fully toward her now. "Okay."
Colet swallowed. "Naalala mo nung sinabi mong mahal mo ako?"
"Yes," Aiah replied gently.
"I didn't say it back because I wasn't ready," Colet continued. "Not because I didn't feel like anything. But because I was scared how heavy the word is."
Aiah didn't interrupt.
"But lately," Colet said, voice quieter, "it doesn't feel heavy anymore. It feels familiar."
Aiah chest tightened — not with expectations, but attention.
"Hindi ko alam kung kailan nagsimula," Colet admitted. "Wala siyang exact moment. Basta one day, napansin ko na lang na ikaw 'yung hinahanap ko kapag tahimik na."
She laughed softly, almost embarrassed. "Ang corny, sorry."
Aiah smiled. "It's okay. Continue."
Colet looked at her — really looked at her.
"At some point," she said, "hindi na kita tinitignan as someone I might lose. Tinitignan na kita as someone I choose."
Aiah felt her breath catch, but she stayed still.
"And I realized," Colet went on, "na mahal kita. Hindi dahil safe ka. Hindi dahil patient ka. Kundi dahil I feel brave when I'm with you."
Silence filled the room.
Not heavy.
Sacred.
Aiah didn't speak right away. She reached out instead, brushing her thumb gently along Colet's cheek — asking without words.
Colet leaned into the touch.
"I love you," Colet repeated, this time steadier. "Hindi kita minamadali. Hindi rin ako humihungi ng assurance. Gusto ko lang na alam mo."
Aiah's eyes softened.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for choosing to say it when you were ready."
Aiah leaned in then — not rushed, not overwhelming — and kissed her slowly. A kiss that didn't ask for proof, only presence.
When they pulled back, Colet rested her forehead against Aiah's.
"So," she murmured, "nandito pa rin tayo."
Aiah smiled. "Oo. And now we're here together."
They stayed like that for a long time — no rush to define what came next, no fear of what morning would bring.
Just two people who took their time, learned each other's rhythms, and found something worth staying for.
And chose each other anyway.