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Sherwin had faced problems that left his head pounding. He had stood before professors and defended his research while they fired one hard question after another. He had spent long days studying with nothing but coffee and cheap cafeteria sandwiches to keep him going. He was a former senate president. He wrote bills, shaped laws, and spoke with confidence in front of crowds. He had handled pressure before.
None of those compared to the blinking cursor on his phone.
Sen. Risa H.
Last seen 8:42 PM.
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
He typed a message.
Read it once.
Then deleted everything.
He tried again, choosing different words this time.
Still wrong.
"No," he mumbled, shaking his head. "Parang masyadong formal."
With a sigh, he erased the whole thing. Again.
The café encounter had happened that morning. A simple coincidence, something that should have disappeared by the end of the day.
Instead, by evening, the internet had already decided that "WinRi" was back from the dead.
He ignored all of it; he told himself it was just noise, just another rumor that would fade once people found something new to talk about.
But his group chat with his closest former colleagues wasn't helping.
The messages kept coming in—jokes, screenshots, and comments from people who knew him well enough to notice when something was bothering him.
Migz: @Sherwin
Sherwin stared at the notification.
Sherwin: Ako nanaman ang bunot niyo.
Raffy: Hindi ka pa rin nagte-text?
Sherwin stared at the screen, already regretting replying to the thread.
Sherwin: Anong ite-text ko?
JV: Simple lang: Hello!
Migz: Tapos?
JV: "Kumain ka na ba?"
Raffy: Classic. Simple pero gumagana.
Sherwin rolled his eyes at the screen, seeing the laughing emojis the guys sent after Raffy's message.
Sherwin: Guys, we're not in college anymore.
Migz: Exactly. Kaya nga nakakahiya. Senate president ka pero takot ka sa isang hello.
JV: Win, nakagawa ka ng batas pero isang text hindi mo ma-draft?
Raffy: Gumawa ka ng mga speech para sa buong bansa, pero sa isang tao hindi mo ma-compose?
Migz: Ang lakas mo sa hearing, pero pagdating dito, biglang nawawala ang tapang.
Sherwin shook his head, trying not to laugh.
Sherwin: Ang iingay niyo.
JV: Sige na. I-type mo na.
Raffy: Update mo kami kapag na-send.
Migz: Sana di ka abutin ng more than 10 years ulit.
Sherwin stared at the screen, fighting the smile that was slowly forming on his face. These people had known him for too long. They knew exactly where to hit.
He sighed and dropped his phone onto the couch.
"Grabe" he muttered.
The truth was his friends weren't just teasing him. They were right, completely, undeniably right. And the worst part? Sherwin knew it.
This wasn't some sudden feeling that appeared after one unexpected coffee encounter. They had been teasing him about it, but the annoying part was that they had a point.
Sherwin had been carrying this for years. More than ten. Maybe closer to twelve.
Sherwin couldn't even remember the exact moment it started.
Maybe it was during one of those endless Senate hearings when everyone looked ready to collapse, except Risa, who somehow still had the patience to ask thoughtful questions even at eleven in the evening.
Or maybe it was during committee breaks, when she would casually remind everyone- senators, staff, security included- to eat before they got too busy to remember.
Maybe it was the little things.
The way she remembered people's names, the way she thanked security guards and servers. The handwritten notes she left after difficult sessions, small gestures that most people would never notice. The calmness in her voice even when the room was filled with arguments.
Sherwin admired her long before he allowed himself to admit that it had become something more. Something he never planned to pursue because back then, it couldn't be anything else.
They were colleagues, public officials. Every conversation could become a headline. Every simple gesture could be turned into a story.
Then came "WinRi."
The edits.
The compilations.
The comments from strangers who saw something between them before he was even willing to acknowledge it himself.
The internet turned every glance into a moment, every smile into a confession.
So Sherwin did what he always did when something felt complicated.
He buried it.
It was easier that way. Until now.
For once, there was no audience. No cameras waiting to capture every glance, no headlines ready to turn a simple moment into a national conversation.
There was only Boston.
The quiet streets, the unfamiliar calm, and the strange feeling that maybe, after all these years, life had given him a chance he never thought he would have.
And then there was Risa.
One dinner invitation. Nothing complicated. Nothing that needed to be explained or defended. Just two people sitting across from each other, away from the noise and expectations that had followed them for so long.
If she wanted.
He picked up his phone again, his fingers hovering over the screen.
For someone who had faced hostile debates, defended countless proposals, and answered questions under pressure, somehow this felt harder.
He typed a message.
Deleted it.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed.
Deleted.
Every version sounded either too formal or not formal enough.
Then finally, he stopped thinking and let himself be honest.
Hi, Risa! I know your schedule is probably packed tomorrow, but if you're free... would you like to have dinner on Friday before your flight on Saturday? Pang-congrats lang sa speech mo kanina.
He stared at the message for a long moment. It was simple. Safe. Almost casual. But somehow, his heart was treating it like the biggest decision he had made in years.
"Pwede na." He whispered.
Before he could find another reason to erase it, he pressed send.
And just like that, the message was gone, which he immediately regretted.
"Ano ba 'yan." Sherwin sighed.
Five minutes. Nothing.
Ten. Nothing.
Fifteen. Still nothing.
And the silence somehow felt louder than any rejection could have been.
"This is why people invented distractions," he muttered.
He opened his laptop, hoping work would pull his mind somewhere else. It didn't. The former senator read three sentences from a document he had been meaning to finish, only to realize a few seconds later that he couldn't remember a single word.
His eyes drifted back to his phone.
Still nothing.
Giving up, he stood and decided to make tea. Something simple. Something that didn't involve checking his screen every few seconds.
At least, that was the plan.
Until he was halfway through boiling the water.
Buzz.
The sound was small, almost nothing. But to Sherwin, it felt like the entire room had suddenly gone quiet.
His heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He grabbed his phone so quickly that he almost dropped it. A man who could face hours of questioning in the Senate without flinching was somehow struggling with a single notification.
Then he saw her name.
Sen. Risa H.
Hi, Sherwin. 😊
Sure, dinner tomorrow works.
Is 7 PM okay?
For a moment, Sherwin simply stared at the message.
A simple yes. A simple question. And yet, somehow, it carried more weight than any answer he had received in a long time.
She said yes.
A quiet smile slowly formed on his face before he could stop it. He had spent years convincing himself that whatever he felt was better left untouched. That some things were better admired from a distance. That timing, circumstances, and everything in between made it impossible.
But there it was.
A dinner.
Tomorrow.
With Risa.
He shook his head slightly, almost laughing at himself. All those years of writing laws, defending arguments, and making decisions under pressure—and this was the thing that made his heart race.
A simple invitation. A simple yes.
He typed his reply.
7 PM is perfect. I'll pick a place.
The reply almost came in an instant.
Risa: Wow. Very decisive.
Sherwin smiled at the screen.
Sherwin: Ex-senate president duties. Sanay mag-decide.
Risa: Ah, ganun? Kahit restaurant lang, kailangan may executive decision?
Sherwin: Syempre, mahirap magkamali. This is an important meeting.
Risa: Meeting?
Sherwin: Dinner meeting.
Risa: Ah. I see. May agenda?
Sherwin: Meron.
Risa: Ano?
Sherwin: 1. Congratulate you for your speech.
2. Make sure you eat good food before leaving.
3. Try not to talk about politics for at least one hour.
Risa: Number 3 sounds impossible.
Sherwin: I know, kaya challenge.
Risa: Good luck, Senator. 😂
Sherwin laughed quietly.
Sherwin: See? May pressure na agad.
Risa: Ikaw naman, ikaw nag-imbita.
Sherwin looked at her last message longer than he should have.
Simple.
Playful.
Familiar.
Like they hadn't spent years keeping things carefully within boundaries.
Sherwin: Okay. Friday, 7 PM.
Risa: Friday, 7 PM. See you, SP. 😊
And somehow, those four words felt like the beginning of something he had stopped allowing himself to hope for.
The dinner came much faster than Sherwin expected. Boston had settled into its colder days, the kind of weather that made scarves, coats, and warm cups of coffee feel like necessities rather than choices. The streets were quieter, the air sharper, and somehow, everything felt different.
Maybe because he was meeting her.
Sherwin arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes early, not because he was nervous. Absolutely not. He was simply being punctual.
A very responsible person arriving at a very reasonable time.
At least, that was the explanation he gave himself.
He sat at the table and picked up the menu, pretending to look through it. He read the same page once, then twice, then a third time. By the fourth, he realized he could probably recite the entire menu without looking.
He was about to put it down when a familiar voice interrupted him.
"I had a feeling." Sherwin looked up. Risa stood there, a small smile on her face, her scarf still wrapped around her from the cold outside. "You came early."
For someone who had answered difficult questions in front of cameras and handled pressure for years, Sherwin suddenly found himself struggling with the simplest explanation.
He cleared his throat.
"Traffic."
Risa glanced toward the window, where people were casually walking along the street.
"We walked here."
Sherwin paused.
Then, without missing a beat, he nodded.
"...Boston traffic."
She stared at him for a moment.
And then she laughed.
Not the polite kind, not the laugh she gave during public events. A real one.
The sound caught him off guard, and for a second, he forgot about the years of careful distance between them. He forgot about expectations, rumors, and everything else that had always made things complicated.
There was just Risa, standing in front of him, laughing.
"I'll allow it," she said.
Sherwin smiled.
Maybe this was what he had been waiting for all along. Not some grand moment or a perfect timing that suddenly made everything fall into place. Just this, a quiet evening in Boston, sitting across from someone he had quietly cared about for years, finally allowing himself to enjoy a moment he never thought he would have.
Dinner felt easier than Sherwin expected.
There was no pressure to impress her, no need to carefully choose every word, no invisible audience waiting to interpret every smile or pause. For once, they were just two people having dinner.
They talked about books they had recently read, places they still wanted to visit, the students she had met that week, and the progress of his dissertation. Somewhere between stories and laughter, they even talked about how strange it felt to introduce themselves now without the familiar title attached to their names.
"I still instinctively look behind me whenever someone says 'Senator,'" Sherwin admitted with a laugh.
"Same," Risa said.
"And then I remember..." Sherwin paused, then smiled. "Ah. Hindi pala ako."
Risa laughed softly, shaking her head.
"Honestly, I don't miss the title."
"Me neither," Sherwin said.
Risa tilted her head slightly. "What do you miss?"
Sherwin paused. He could have given the expected answer. The influence, the position, maybe even the recognition. But the truth came out before he could think too much about it.
"The chance to make people's lives better."
Risa's expression softened.
"I miss that too," she said quietly.
And for a moment, they didn't need to explain what they meant. They both knew.
Their meals arrived, and for a few minutes, they simply enjoyed the food and the quiet comfort of the moment.
Then Risa looked at him over the rim of her glass, a small, knowing smile forming on her face.
"So..."
"Hm?"
"I've been wondering something."
Sherwin looked up, suddenly more alert. Something about the way she said it made him feel like he already knew where this was going.
"Okay..."
"You didn't text me just because of dinner."
He blinked, caught off guard.
"...What makes you say that?"
"Sherwin." Risa said, smiling.
"Ano?"
"I've known you for years."
He let out a nervous laugh and looked down for a moment.
"Ganun ba ako ka-obvious?"
"Only a little."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Only a little?"
She laughed softly.
"Okay. Maybe more than a little."
He smiled, but the amusement slowly faded as he looked back at his plate.
Because she was right.
And for the first time that evening, after years of having the right words for every argument, every speech, and every room he walked into, Sherwin found himself with nothing to say.
Outside, Boston glowed beneath rows of warm streetlights. The restaurant had slowly begun to empty, but neither of them seemed ready to leave just yet. There was something comfortable about staying a little longer, about letting the evening stretch without rushing toward the end.
Sherwin exhaled softly.
"You know..."
"Hm?"
"I almost didn't send that message."
Risa looked at him, waiting.
"Bakit?"
"I wasn't sure if I should."
She didn't interrupt. She didn't try to guess what he meant. She simply waited, giving him the same quiet patience she had always shown him.
"I spent years making sure people wouldn't misunderstand us," he admitted, with Risa nodding slowly.
"I know."
"And somewhere along the way..." He looked down for a moment, then smiled faintly. "I realized the only person I was trying to convince was myself."
She stayed quiet. The city outside seemed to soften around them.
"I've liked you for a long time," he finally said.
No grand speech, no carefully prepared words. Just the truth.
"More than ten years." A small laugh escaped him. "Actually saying that out loud sounds a little crazy."
Risa didn't answer right away. Instead, she looked at him with the same thoughtful expression he had seen countless times before, the one that meant she was choosing her words carefully.
"So..."
Sherwin smiled slightly.
"I figured..." He shrugged. "We're not colleagues anymore. No campaigns, no more elections, no committee hearings that last until midnight."
He looked back at her as she chuckled.
"And I thought..." His voice softened. "If I never asked, I'd probably spend the rest of my life wondering what could have happened."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. But the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that came when two people finally stopped pretending and allowed themselves to simply be honest.
Risa wrapped both hands around her cup and met his eyes, her expression calm and thoughtful, as if she had been waiting for this moment just as long as he had.
"You know..."
"Hm?"
"I was wondering..."
Sherwin raised an eyebrow.
"...when you were finally going to tell me."
He stared at her.
"Wait."
A playful smile appeared on her face.
"Akala ko kailangan ko pang akong maunang magtanong sa'yo."
And for perhaps the first time in years, Sherwin Gatchalian—the former senate president, doctoral researcher, and man who always had an answer ready—was completely speechless.
Risa couldn't help but laugh at his reaction.
"Now," she said, reaching for her coat, "walk me back to my hotel."
Still trying to process what had just happened, Sherwin blinked.
"So..."
She looked back at him.
"Is that a yes?"
A smile slowly formed on her face.
"I think that's a conversation for our next dinner."