July 18.
Dear Diary,
Sabi nila, rain brings life to everything. Pero bakit sa akin, parang mas lalo lang akong nalulunod? I was stranded at the University gate for two hours today. The sky was literally crying, and for a moment, I felt like crying with it. My phone was dead, my umbrella was useless, and my pride was the only thing keeping me from calling Kuya.
And then, a silver sedan pulled up. The window rolled down, and there he was. No glasses, hair slightly messy, and an expression that was halfway between annoyed and worried. He didn't say 'Do you want a ride?' He just said, 'Get in, Caroline.'
And I did. Even if I knew that being inside that car with him was more dangerous than the storm outside.
.
The monsoon rain was relentless, turning the university campus into a blur of gray and green. I stood under the cramped waiting shed, hugging my bag to my chest. Every few minutes, a car would pass by, splashing puddles onto the pavement, but none of them were the one I was secretly hoping for.
I looked at my dead phone screen. Great. Just great, CC.
Just as I was contemplating running for the bus stop and risking a fever, the familiar silver sedan glided to a halt right in front of me. The passenger window lowered, revealing Luke.
"Get in, Caroline. You're soaking wet," he said, his voice barely audible over the roar of the rain.
I didn't argue. I pulled the door open and scrambled inside. The sudden silence of the car's interior was jarring. The air-conditioning was cold, and the scent—that intoxicating mix of leather, espresso, and him—instantly filled my lungs.
"What were you thinking, standing out there?" he asked, his tone sharp as he pulled back into the road. "Your brother has been calling you. He’s worried sick."
"My phone died," I muttered, shivering. I felt a bit pathetic, with my hair plastered to my forehead and my white sundress clinging to my skin. "I was going to wait for the bus."
He glanced at me, and his eyes softened for a split second before he looked back at the road. He reached into the backseat and grabbed a folded cardigan, tossing it into my lap.
"Wear that. Baka magkasakit ka."
"This is yours," I said, recognizing the dark grey wool.
"Just wear it, Caroline. Don't be stubborn."
I slipped it on. It was huge on me, the sleeves hanging past my fingertips. It smelled so strongly of him that it felt like he was holding me. I tucked my chin into the collar, trying to hide the blush that had nothing to do with the cold.
The drive was slow. The windshield wipers were working overtime, creating a rhythmic thump-thump that felt like a second heartbeat.
"Why are you still on campus this late?" he asked after a long silence. "Your last class was at four."
"I was in the library," I lied. Well, half-lied. I was in the library, but I was mostly just staring at the back of his head during his 5 PM consultation hours from across the room.
"Research."
"Research," he repeated, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Is that what you call writing in that diary of yours?"
My heart stopped. "P-paano mo nalaman?"
"You're always writing in it. Even during my lectures," he said, his voice dropping an octave.
"You think I don't notice? I see everything you do in that classroom, Caroline. I see when you're listening, and I see when you're... somewhere else."
I turned to look at him, but he was focused on the traffic. "And where do you think I go when I'm 'somewhere else'?"
Luke’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that you focus on your studies. This is your final year."
"Bakit ba lagi mong binabalik sa 'studies' ang usapan?" I burst out, the frustration of the past few weeks finally boiling over. "Is that all I am to you? A student? A grade on a sheet? A 'baby sister' you have to pick up in the rain because my brother told you to?"
Luke hit the brakes a little too hard as the light turned red. He turned to me, his face illuminated by the red glow of the traffic signal. The professional mask was gone. He looked tired. He looked human.
"You know you're more than that," he whispered.
"Then tell me. Anong tingin mo sa akin, Luke? Without the 'Professor' title. Without Kuya Marcus. Sino ako sa'yo?"
The silence in the car was suffocating. I could hear the rain drumming on the roof, a frantic, chaotic sound. Luke reached out, his hand hovering near my face for a heartbeat, his fingers almost touching my damp hair.
For a second, I thought he was finally going to say it. I thought he was going to tell me that he saw me, that he wanted me, that he was struggling just as much as I was.
Then, his phone rang.
The caller ID flashed on the dashboard screen: SOFIA.
The spell broke instantly. Luke retracted his hand as if he’d been electrocuted. He cleared his throat and pressed the 'accept' button on the steering wheel.
"Sofia? Yeah... no, I'm just driving. Is everything okay?"
I turned away, staring out the window at the blurred lights of the city. The warmth of his cardigan suddenly felt like a lie.
"What? Now? ... Okay, okay. I'll drop Caroline off and then I'll go there. Calm down, Sofia. I’m coming."
He ended the call. He didn't look at me. He just started driving again, faster this time.
"Is she okay?" I asked, my voice flat.
"She and Marcus had another fight. She’s... she’s upset. I need to check on her."
"Of course," I said, a bitter taste in my mouth. "Dapat lang. You’re the best friend, after all. The one she calls when things go wrong."
"Caroline, not now—"
"I want to get out," I said, my hand reaching for the door handle.
"What? It’s pouring!"
"I don't care! Ibaba mo na ako rito, Luke. Malapit na yung bahay namin anyway. Just go to her. Go save her like you always do."
He didn't stop the car. He locked the doors with a loud click.
"Sit down and stay quiet," he commanded, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else I couldn't identify. "I am taking you home. And then I am leaving. That’s the end of it."
We didn't speak for the rest of the ride. When we pulled into our driveway, I didn't wait for him to open the door. I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw his cardigan onto the seat.
"Thanks for the ride, Professor," I said, spitting out the title like an insult.
I ran into the house without looking back.
Dear Diary,
I hate him. I hate the way he looks at me, and I hate the way he looks at HER. I hate that I’m wearing his scent even after I’ve showered. I hate that I’m just the girl he drops off before he runs to the woman he actually wants to save.
He almost touched me, Diary. I saw it in his eyes. But 'almost' is the story of my life.
When I loved him today... it felt like drowning. And I think I’m tired of trying to swim.