Chapter Text
It was a Tuesday afternoon, and a sudden downpour had turned the streets of the business district into a chaotic mess of grey umbrellas and splashing tires. Colet was supposed to be at a high-end department store for a rush alteration, but her driver had been rerouted due to a flash flood.
"I'll just walk from here, Mang Jose," Colet had said, shielding her head with a leather portfolio.
She ducked into the first doorway with a dry awning. It wasn't the sterile, organized shop she was looking for. Instead, the air smelled of peaches and expensive fabric. The sign above the door read Ricalde’s Haute Couture in a bright, neon pink script that made Colet’s lawyer brain wince.
"We’re closed for a private event—oh! You’re soaking wet!"
Colet looked up. Standing there was a woman in a bright yellow sundress, holding a steaming mug of cocoa. Maloi didn't look like a business owner; she looked like a stray sunbeam that had accidentally ended up indoors.
"I am just seeking shelter from the rain," Colet said, straightening her damp blazer. "I’ll leave once it lets up."
"Naku, don't be silly. Pasok ka muna, baka magkasakit ka pa," Maloi insisted, literally pulling Colet into the shop. "I’m Maloi. And you are... very grumpy-looking for someone with such nice bone structure."
Colet blinked, stunned by the bluntness. "I am Atty. Colet Vergara. And I am not 'grumpy.' I am professional."
"Sure, Attorney. Professional-sungit," Maloi teased, circling Colet as if she were a piece of fabric. She reached out and touched the hem of Colet’s wet sleeve. "This wool is high quality, but the cut is all wrong for you. It’s hiding your waist. Sino’ng gumawa nito? Ipakukulong ko."
"Excuse me?" Colet bristled. "This is a designer suit."
"Well, your designer didn't love you," Maloi shot back with a wink. She grabbed a measuring tape from around her neck. "I’m bored because of the rain. Let me show you what you should be wearing."
"I don't have time for—"
"Quiet na, pogi. Just stand still."
That was the first time Maloi called her that. Colet should have been offended. She should have walked back out into the rain. But as Maloi leaned in to measure her shoulders—humming a pop song and smelling like spring—Colet found herself forgetting about the storm outside for the first time in years.
During that very first rainy afternoon, Colet was still standing stiff as a board, her arms held out awkwardly while Maloi worked. The boutique was quiet, save for the rhythmic pitter-patter of rain against the large glass windows and the soft, upbeat melody Maloi was humming.
"Arms up a bit, Attorney. Don't be so rigid, hindi naman ako nangangagat," Maloi teased, her eyes focused on the measuring tape.
Colet obeyed, but her gaze was fixed on a point on the wall. "I simply don't see the point of this. My suits have served me well in court for years."
"Serving you? Girl, they’re just covering you up. They don't tell the world who's boss," Maloi countered. She stepped behind Colet to measure the span of her shoulders.
As Maloi reached around, her chest brushed lightly against Colet’s back. It was a fleeting, professional contact, but Colet’s breath hitched. Then, Maloi moved to the front. She knelt down to check the length of Colet’s trousers, her fingers grazing the hem of the fabric—and accidentally, the skin of Colet’s ankle.
Colet jumped slightly. "Careful."
"Sorry! Masyado ka kasing jumpy," Maloi laughed, looking up. From her kneeling position, she had to tilt her head back, and for a second, their eyes locked. The teasing remark died on Maloi’s lips. She noticed how Colet’s dark eyes weren't just grumpy—they were deep, intense, and currently wide with a strange kind of surprise.
Maloi stood up slowly, her hand accidentally lingering on Colet’s forearm to steady herself. Her thumb brushed against the sensitive skin of Colet’s wrist, right over her racing pulse.
"Your heart is beating really fast, Attorney," Maloi whispered, her playful grin softening into something more curious. "Am I that scary?"
Colet quickly pulled her arm away, adjusting her glasses with a hand that wasn't entirely steady. "It’s the caffeine. I’ve had four espressos today."
"Hmm, if you say so," Maloi said, her dimples appearing as she went back to her notepad. She scribbled something down, then looked back at Colet with a wink. "But for the record? Red silk. Next time you come back—and you will come back—I’m putting you in red silk. It matches that fire you’re trying so hard to hide."
Colet didn't have an argument for that. For the first time in her career, she was completely out of words.
Exactly one week later, Colet found herself staring at the reflection of her office door. She had spent twenty minutes convincing herself that she wasn't going to the boutique.
"The cufflink," she muttered to the empty room. "I'm 80% sure I dropped a silver cufflink in her fitting room."
It was a blatant lie. Her cufflinks were accounted for in her jewelry box. But the urge to see if that red silk comment was a joke—and to see if Maloi would look at her with that same teasing light—was stronger than her logic.
Colet stopped at the cafe downstairs first. She stood at the counter, hesitating.
"One Americano, black," she ordered. Then, her voice dropped as if she were sharing a state secret. "And... whatever that pink, blended drink is. The one with the extra whipped cream and sprinkles."
The barista blinked. "The Strawberry Dream Supreme, Ma'am?"
"Yes. That... monstrosity," Colet sighed, feeling her dignity slip.
When she walked into Ricalde’s Haute Couture, the bell chimed, and Maloi popped her head out from behind a rack of lace gowns. Her face lit up like a neon sign.
"Attorney! You’re back! Did you miss the red silk already?"
Colet marched to the counter, setting the pink drink down with a loud thud. "I am here because I believe I lost a cufflink. And... they gave me the wrong order at the cafe. I didn't want this to go to waste."
Maloi looked at the pink drink, then at Colet’s stern, unyielding expression. She burst into a fit of giggles. "Wrong order? Attorney, this has my name written all over it. Literally. The barista even drew a little sun on the cup."
Colet cleared her throat, her ears turning a faint shade of pink. "Coincidence."
Maloi took a long sip, looking at Colet over the rim of the cup. "Thank you, pogi. For the 'wrong order.' So, about that cufflink... do you want to go back to the fitting room and 'look' for it? Or should I just show you the sketch I made for your gala dress?"
"I don't have a gala," Colet lied, even though she had the invitation in her bag.
"You do now," Maloi whispered, leaning over the counter. This time, she didn't just graze Colet’s hand. She boldly took Colet’s hand in hers, her sticky, strawberry-scented fingers intertwining with Colet’s clean, professional ones. "Because I’m making you a gown that’s going to make every lawyer in this city forget how to argue."
Colet didn't pull away. She just looked down at their joined hands and realized she was never going to find that lost cufflink. She didn't want to.
Two weeks after the pink drink incident, Colet showed up at the boutique at 7:00 PM, just as Maloi was flipping the sign to Closed.
"Attorney! Overtime ah?" Maloi joked, leaning against the glass door.
"I have a gala in three months. I decided... the red silk might be a viable option," Colet said, sounding like she was reading a legal brief. She held up a folder. "I brought some reference images of conservative necklines."
Maloi didn't take the folder. Instead, she took Colet’s hand and pulled her inside. The shop was dim, lit only by the warm glow of the mannequins' spotlights. "Forget the folder. Let’s just drape."
As Maloi pinned a bolt of crimson fabric against Colet’s shoulder, the silence between them changed. It wasn't awkward anymore; it was heavy. Maloi was standing so close that Colet could feel the heat radiating from her.
"You're very quiet today, pogi," Maloi whispered, her fingers smoothing the silk over Colet’s collarbone.
"I'm thinking," Colet replied, her voice breathy.
"About the dress?"
Colet looked at Maloi in the mirror. Maloi’s face was inches from her neck, her eyes soft and focused. "No," Colet admitted.
Maloi’s hand stopped moving. She met Colet’s gaze in the reflection. For a heartbeat, the teasing mask dropped. Maloi’s thumb brushed the skin just below Colet’s ear—a touch that was definitely not about dressmaking.
"Good," Maloi murmured. "The dress is easy. It’s the person inside it that’s complicated."
The red silk wasn't for a traditional gown. Maloi had discarded the "conservative necklines" folder and instead pulled out a sketch of a sharp, tailored tuxedo-style jumpsuit with a floor-length silk overskirt. It was bold, structured, and dangerously sleek—the kind of look that blurred the lines between high-fashion masculinity and feminine grace.
"Heto," Maloi said, her voice dropping to a low hum as she draped the crimson fabric.
"Hindi mo kailangan ng gown para magmukhang makapangyarihan. This cut... it’s sharp. Parang ikaw."
Colet watched in the mirror as Maloi pinned the fabric to create a deep, structural V-neck that mimicked the lapels of a suit. The silk clung to her frame in a way that felt like armor rather than an outfit. The way the fabric flowed from the waist gave it a soft, regal movement, but the hidden trousers underneath kept it grounded and fierce.
"It looks... intimidating," Colet remarked, though she didn't look away from her reflection.
"It looks like you’re the one in charge of the room, not just the case," Maloi countered. She moved behind Colet, her hands sliding down the length of Colet’s arms to adjust the sleeves of the drape. "Gusto ko, pagpasok mo pa lang, alam na nila na hindi ka dapat binabangga. But I also want them to see this—"
Maloi’s fingers trailed lightly over the exposed skin of Colet’s collarbone, tracing the line where the sharp silk met the softness of her skin.
"The contrast," Maloi whispered. "The strength and the... well, the part of you that you only show to me."
Colet’s grip on the edge of the pedestal tightened. The reflection showed a woman who looked capable of dismantling a witness in seconds, yet the way her eyes softened whenever Maloi moved closer told a completely different story.
"Is it too much?" Colet asked, her voice barely a thread.
Maloi leaned in, resting her chin lightly on Colet’s shoulder. Their eyes met in the mirror—one pair sharp and searching, the other bright and soft.
"Para sa iba, siguro. Pero para sa'yo? It’s exactly who you are, Colet. Complex. Powerful. Beautiful."
Maloi’s thumb brushed the underside of Colet's jaw, a deliberate, slow movement that made the rest of the world feel like it was fading into the background.
"Don't hide behind those boring black suits anymore. Wear the red. Wear it for me."
The night of the gala, Colet didn't just walk into the room—she commanded it. The crimson tuxedo-gown was a masterpiece of contradictions. The sharp, structured lapels gave her the aura of a girl boss who could win any argument, while the floor-length silk overskirt trailed behind her like a royal shadow. Every head turned. Every whisper died down.
After that night, Colet’s wardrobe underwent a silent revolution. The boring, off-the-rack black suits were gone. Every hearing, every board meeting, and every high-profile deposition became an excuse to visit Ricalde’s Haute Couture.
"Attorney Vergara is here!" one of the junior tailors called out as the familiar black sedan pulled up.
Maloi, who had been in the middle of a serious design meeting, immediately dropped her fabric shears. She smoothed her hair and adjusted her apron with a sudden, frantic energy.
"Okay, guys, back to work! Ako na ang mag-a-attend sa kanya," Maloi announced, trying to sound casual. "V.I.P. client 'yan, kailangan ng special attention."
Her lead assistant, Stacey, raised an eyebrow. "Special attention? Ma'am, tatlong fitting na 'yan para sa iisang vest. Halos tapos na 'yun ah."
Maloi flushed, pointing a finger at her staff. "Shh! Quiet na kayo. Secret lang natin 'to, okay? Kapag dumating si pogi, sabihin niyo busy kayo sa back office. No one enters the private fitting room unless I say so."
Inside the fitting room, the "professional" facade always crumbled within minutes.
"The waist feels... different," Colet lied, standing on the pedestal while Maloi circled her with a measuring tape.
"Different-tight or different-I-just-wanted-you-to-touch-it?" Maloi teased, her hands sliding around Colet’s waist to "check" the fit. She leaned in close, her breath warm against Colet’s ear. "Kabisado ko na bawat inch ng katawan mo, Colet. There’s nothing left to measure."
Colet looked down at her, her hand coming up to rest on Maloi’s shoulder. "Then why do you keep telling me to come back for 'final' adjustments?"
Maloi looked up, her sunshine smile turning soft and honest. "Kasi kapag hindi ka naka-schedule dito, kailangan kong mag-hintay hanggang gabi para makita ka. And I’m not very good at waiting."
Colet reached out, tucking a stray hair behind Maloi’s ear. "Neither am I. So, what’s next on the 'special' list? I have a hearing in two weeks."
"A power suit in emerald green," Maloi whispered, her fingers lingering on the buttons of Colet’s vest. "Para swerte. And because it matches the color of the eyes of the woman I’m currently falling for."
It was the week of the People vs. Madrigal case—the biggest trial of Colet’s career. She hadn't slept in forty-eight hours. Her eyes were bloodshot, her desk was buried in motions, and her phone wouldn't stop ringing.
When she arrived at the boutique for a final adjustment on her court suit, she wasn't the usual Colet. She was a live wire ready to snap.
"Surprise! I added a little embroidery inside the cuff," Maloi chirped, oblivious to the storm brewing behind Colet’s eyes. She was humming, dancing around Colet as she tried to pin the sleeve. "It’s a tiny sun. Para kahit stressed ka sa court, alam mong—"
"Maloi, not now," Colet muttered, staring at her phone.
"And I was thinking, after this, maybe we can finally grab that dinner? My treat! Kasi feeling ko masyado kang focused sa—"
"I said not now!" Colet suddenly roared.
The sound was deafening in the quiet shop. Maloi subtly flinched, her shoulders hiking up as she instinctively pulled her hands back. The pins in her hand scattered across the floor. She looked up, and for the first time, her sunshine smile was trembling at the edges.
"Ganyan ka ba sa lahat ng kliyente mo?" Colet’s voice was like ice, every word meant to hurt. "You treat this place like a playground. I have a man’s life in my hands tomorrow, and you’re talking about embroidery and dinner? Be professional naman, Maloi. You’re the owner here, but you act like a child playing dress-up. Umarte ka nang naaayon sa posisyon mo."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Maloi didn't fight back. She just stood there, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, forcing that pained, professional smile back onto her face.
"I... I understand, Attorney," Maloi whispered, her voice hollow. "Pasensya na. I forgot my place."
The next morning, the suit was delivered to Colet’s office by a random courier. No sun embroidery. No secret note. Just a cold, sterile garment bag.
Colet won the case. She stood on the courthouse steps, cameras flashing, everyone calling her a hero. But as she looked down at her sleeve—perfectly tailored but empty of any personal touch—she felt a hollow ache in her chest.
She realized that by demanding "professionalism," she had killed the only thing that made her feel alive.
Colet couldn't focus on her victory. The cheers of her colleagues felt like background noise compared to the silence from Maloi. Two days after the trial, Colet drove to the boutique, her heart heavy with a guilt that no legal win could settle.
She walked in, expecting Maloi’s bright greeting, but the shop felt cold. Stacey, the lead assistant, was at the front counter. When she saw Colet, her usual respectful expression vanished, replaced by a sharp, protective glare.
"If you're here for another 'professional' adjustment, Attorney, the senior tailors are busy," Stacey said, not even bother to hide her disdain.
"I'm here to see Maloi," Colet replied, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
Stacey stepped out from behind the counter, blocking the path to the private fitting room.
"Hindi siya pwedeng istorbohin. Actually, ayaw ka niyang makita. Do you have any idea how much she cried after you left? She stayed up for three nights straight working on your suit, putting her heart into every detail, only for you to treat her like she was nothing."
Stacey walked over to a small wastebasket near the sewing machines and fished out a scrap of white silk. She threw it onto the counter.
"Heto. Found this in the trash after you walked out. She spent four hours hand-stitching that 'monstrosity' you hated so much."
Colet picked up the scrap. It was the tiny, hand-embroidered sun Maloi had mentioned. It was beautiful—intricate, golden, and clearly made with love. But it had been ripped out of the suit, the edges frayed where Maloi had frantically removed it after being yelled at.
"She thought she was special to you," Stacey added, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"But you made sure she knew she was just 'the tailor.' Sana masaya ka sa panalo mo, Attorney."
Colet stared at the little golden sun in her palm. The weight of it felt heavier than any law book she had ever carried. Without a word, she pushed past the curtains, her eyes searching for the woman she had so recklessly broken.
Colet pushed through the heavy velvet curtains, but the main floor was empty. She moved toward the back, past the rows of hanging garments, until she reached the small, cramped stockroom where the extra rolls of fabric were kept.
There, tucked between two massive bolts of dark wool, she found her.
Maloi was sitting on a low wooden crate, her knees pulled up to her chest. She wasn't crying anymore, but her eyes were red and she was staring blankly at a piece of chalk in her hand. She looked small—so different from the vibrant, sun-drenched woman who usually filled the room with laughter.
"Maloi," Colet called out softly.
Maloi didn't jump. She didn't even look up. She just stiffened, her fingers tightening around the chalk.
"Sabi ko kay Stacey, wala akong tatanggapin na fitting ngayon. Please, Attorney. Just... leave the suit at the front if there’s something wrong with it."
"There’s nothing wrong with the suit," Colet said, taking a tentative step forward.
"It was perfect. I won the case, Maloi."
"Good for you," Maloi whispered, her voice devoid of its usual melody.
"Mission accomplished then. Naging professional ako, 'di ba? I did my job. You don't need to be here."
Colet knelt down on the dusty floor, ignoring the fact that her expensive trousers were getting ruined. She held out her hand, revealing the crumpled silk sun she had retrieved from the trash.
"I found this," Colet said, her voice trembling.
"And I realized that while I was busy winning a case, I was losing the only person who actually cared if I was okay. I was a coward, Maloi. I got scared of how much I wanted to see you, so I pushed you away."
Maloi finally looked at her, and the raw hurt in her eyes made Colet flinch.
"You didn't just push me away, Colet. You made me feel like I was a joke. Sinigawan mo ako sa harap ng mga tao ko. Pinamukha mo sa akin na 'landi' lang ang alam ko."
"I know," Colet choked out, reaching for Maloi’s hand.
"And I will spend every day for the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me. Please... huwag kang magtago dito. The sun doesn't belong in a stockroom."
Maloi stared at the tiny silk sun in Colet’s palm, then at the powerful attorney kneeling in the dust of a stockroom floor. The wall Maloi had built—the one made of professional coldness and hurt—finally crumbled. A single sob broke through her throat, and she collapsed forward, burying her face in Colet’s neck.
Colet didn’t hesitate. She pulled Maloi into her lap, wrapping her arms around her so tightly it was as if she were trying to fuse their souls back together. She didn't care about her reputation, her suit, or the fact that Stacey might be watching from the curtains.
"I'm here. I've got you," Colet whispered, her own tears hitting Maloi’s hair.
"I’m so sorry, sunshine. Hinding-hindi na kita sasabihan ng ganoon. Never again."
Maloi’s hands gripped the back of Colet’s blazer, her cries turning into soft, exhausted hiccups.
"Ang sakit, Colet... sobra. Akala ko talaga wala lang ako sa'yo."
"You are everything to me," Colet confessed, pulling back just enough to cupping Maloi’s face. She used her thumbs to brush away the tears, her gaze more intense than any look she had ever given a jury. "I was a fool to think I could do this without you. Every win feels empty if I can't come here and see you smile afterward."
Maloi looked up, her nose red and her eyes puffy, but a tiny, familiar spark was starting to return.
"So... hindi na ako 'child playing dress-up'?"
"You're the master of my heart," Colet replied seriously, leaning in until their foreheads rested against each other.
"And if you want, you can put a hundred suns on every suit I own. I'll wear them all."
Maloi let out a weak, watery laugh, finally reaching up to touch Colet’s cheek.
"One hundred? Masyadong mainit 'yun, Attorney. Baka ma-heatstroke ka."
"I'd risk it for you," Colet murmured, and for the first time, she didn't wait for a measurement or an excuse. She leaned in and kissed Maloi’s forehead, a silent promise that the grumpy lawyer was officially retired when it came to the woman who owned the boutique.
Colet decided that a simple sorry wasn't enough. She wanted to prove that she could be the sunshine for once. She traded her usual steakhouse reservations for something Maloi had mentioned months ago during a late-night fitting: a rooftop picnic under the stars, away from the noise of the city.
Colet arrived at the boutique at exactly 7:00 PM. This time, she wasn't carrying a briefcase. She was holding a single, long-stemmed sunflower and a small, elegantly wrapped box.
"Attorney! Overtime na naman?" Stacey teased from the counter, though her voice was much kinder now. She pointed toward the back.
"Nasa garden balcony siya. Go ahead."
Colet found Maloi sitting on the edge of the balcony, looking out at the city lights. When Maloi turned around and saw Colet—sans blazer, sleeves rolled up, and holding a sunflower—her jaw practically dropped.
"Colet? What’s all this?"
"An official motion for a first date," Colet said, her voice steady but her heart racing. She handed Maloi the flower.
"No suits, no hearings, no 'professionalism.' Just us."
Colet had set up a blanket on the floor, complete with Maloi’s favorite Thai takeout and a thermos of that monstrosity strawberry drink. As they sat together, the city humming below them, Colet handed Maloi the small box.
Inside was a customized silver fountain pen. Engraved on the side in tiny, elegant script were the words: To my Sunshine. Keep drawing our future.
"Colet..." Maloi whispered, her eyes shimmering. "This is so cheesy. I love it."
"I practiced being cheesy in front of the mirror for an hour," Colet admitted, laughing softly. She reached out, taking Maloi’s hand and interlacing their fingers.
"I spent so long protecting my heart with law books and suits, Maloi. I forgot that the best things in life are the ones you can't prepare a defense for."
Maloi leaned her head on Colet’s shoulder, the scent of peaches and strawberries filling the air between them.
"Well, Attorney, I think you just won your most important case."
"Which one is that?"
"The one where you finally convinced me that grumpy actually has a very soft heart," Maloi teased, nipping playfully at Colet's shoulder.
Colet didn't pull away. She just tightened her hold, looking up at the stars and realizing that for the first time in her life, she wasn't looking for a loophole or a way out. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.
The air on the balcony was cool, but the space between them was electric. Colet didn’t wait for a rebuttal. She reached out, her hand sliding from Maloi’s waist to the nape of her neck, pulling her in with a sudden, breathless hunger.
Their lips met in a kiss that had been building for months, a release of all the unspoken words and shared glances between them. Maloi leaned into the embrace, her hands resting on Colet’s shoulders as the rest of the world seemed to fade away. They stood there on the balcony, lost in the moment, as the quiet of the night surrounded them.
Colet pulled Maloi slightly closer, the intensity of the moment deepening as they ignored the cool evening air. It was a private world they had built in those few seconds, one where the professional boundaries of an attorney and a boutique owner didn't seem to matter.
The sound of the sliding door abruptly cutting through the air shattered the silence.
"Ma'am, nakalimutan niyo 'yung swatches para bukas—"
Stacey stopped mid-sentence, clutching a bundle of silk fabric. Her eyes widened as she processed the scene: her boss and the city's most formidable defense attorney standing close together, looking very much interrupted.
"Oh... oh wow," Stacey stammered, her face turning a bright shade of red.
Colet didn't let go of Maloi’s waist, though she did turn her head to fix Stacey with a steady, unblinking gaze that usually made people in a courtroom very nervous.
"Stacey," Colet said in a low, measured tone. "Is there a reason you aren't headed home for the evening?"
"I—no! I mean, yes! Going now! Sorry!" Stacey scrambled backward, nearly tripping over her own feet as she retreated into the shop.
"See you tomorrow! Bye!"
The door clicked shut, leaving the two of them alone once more. Maloi leaned her head against Colet’s shoulder, a soft laugh escaping her.
"She is never going to let me live this down," Maloi whispered.
Colet smiled, resting her chin on top of Maloi’s head.
"Then it’s a good thing I know a very good lawyer who can handle any repercussions."
Maloi looked up, her eyes bright with amusement.
"Is that so? I suppose we’ll have to see if she actually dares to bring it up tomorrow."
For months, Colet treated every date like a high-stakes closing argument, trying to prove she was worthy of Maloi’s sunshine. She would send coffee to the boutique every morning—not the pink monstrosity, but a sophisticated latte with a tiny sun drawn in the foam.
In return, Maloi made Colet work for it. She would forget her measurements, forcing Colet to come back to the shop, or she would challenge Colet to normal people activities, like eating street food in Binondo or singing karaoke until their voices were hoarse.
It happened on a quiet Friday night at the boutique. The shop was closed, but the lights were dim and warm. They were supposed to be reviewing fabric samples for Colet’s next big event, but the folders were untouched on the velvet sofa.
Colet was leaning against the cutting table, watching Maloi sketch. The atmosphere was thick with a year’s worth of tension and unspoken promises.
"Maloi," Colet said, her voice dropping to that low, serious register she only used for things that truly mattered.
"Hmm?" Maloi didn't look up, but her pencil slowed down.
"I’ve been 'appearing' in your boutique for almost a year now. I’ve submitted my evidence. I’ve made my opening and closing statements." Colet stepped closer, gently taking the pencil from Maloi’s hand. "Gaano pa ba kahaba ang deliberasyon ng hurado?"
Maloi finally looked up, her eyes dancing with mischief.
"Judgment is a very serious process, Attorney. Hindi pwedeng madaliin."
"Maloi, I’m serious," Colet whispered, her hands finding Maloi’s waist.
"I don’t want to be just your V.I.P. client. I don't want to be just the girl who brings you coffee. I want the title. I want to be yours."
Maloi looked at the woman in front of her—the "Grumpy Attorney" who had learned to laugh, who had learned to apologize, and who looked at her as if she were the only person in the world. She reached up, hooking her arms around Colet’s neck.
"Actually, the jury reached a verdict a long time ago," Maloi whispered, her nose brushing against Colet’s.
"They were just waiting for the defendant to stop being so professional and just ask."
"So?" Colet’s heart was hammering against her ribs.
"So... yes, Colet. Sinasagot na kita. Talo ka na, akin ka na."
Colet didn't say a word. She just let out a long, shaky breath of relief and pulled Maloi into a kiss that felt like coming home. It wasn't a professional kiss; it was desperate, sweet, and tasted like the beginning of something permanent.
Suddenly, the familiar click of the front door echoed. Stacey walked in, stopping dead in her tracks as she saw them.
"Ay, kalabaw!" Stacey yelled, dropping her bag. She looked at their joined hands and the way Colet was beaming—actually beaming.
"Wait... is it official? Kayo na?!"
Maloi leaned back, a triumphant, sunshine-bright grin on her face.
"Official na, Stacey! Attorney Vergara is officially off the market!"
Colet just laughed, tucking Maloi under her arm.
"And for the record, Stacey... no more 'Attorney' from you. Call me Colet."
"Copy that, Ma'am Colet!" Stacey squealed, already pulling out her phone.
"Wait, kailangan ko 'tong i-text sa group chat!"
"Don't you dare," Colet joked, but the threat had no bite. She was too busy looking at her girlfriend to care about anything else.