July 25.
Dear Diary,
Sabi nila, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else—charot! Hindi ko kaya 'yun. Pero maybe the best way to forget a Professor is to spend time with a student. Today, I said 'yes' to Justin. The guy with the Honda. The guy Kuya Marcus was teasing me about.
I wore my favorite red lipstick. Not because I like Justin, but because I wanted to feel like a woman who doesn't cry over silver sedans and margin notes. I wanted to see if Luke would notice. And oh, he noticed. Pero bakit hindi masarap sa pakiramdam? Bakit parang lalo lang akong nasasaktan?
.
The university cafeteria was buzzing with the Friday lunch crowd. I was sitting at a table near the glass windows with Justin. He was nice—tall, athletic, and he actually laughed at my jokes. He didn't talk about Keats or Byron. He talked about basketball and the latest Marvel movie. It was refreshing. It was... normal.
"So, CC, are you really free this Sunday?" Justin asked, leaning forward, his eyes bright. "May bagong art exhibit sa Makati. I thought you'd like it since you're into all that creative stuff."
I felt a pang of guilt. I was using him as a shield. "Sure, Justin. Sounds like fun."
"Great! I'll pick you up at—"
Justin stopped mid-sentence. His gaze shifted to something behind me, and his posture straightened.
I didn't have to turn around. The sudden drop in the room’s temperature and the scent of expensive coffee told me everything. Professor Arisgado was walking by.
"Ms. Cruz," his voice was like a cold splash of water.
I slowly turned around. Luke was standing there, holding a stack of blue books. He looked impeccable, but there was a tightness in his jaw that wasn't there during his morning lecture.
"Professor," I said, my voice cool and detached.
"Is there something wrong with my latest draft?"
He glanced at Justin, his eyes scanning the boy like he was a faulty piece of logic in an essay. Justin shifted uncomfortably. "Good afternoon, Sir," Justin muttered.
Luke ignored him, keeping his focus entirely on me. "I was going to remind you that the consultation for your term project is moved to 4 PM today. I hope your... social calendar... can accommodate that."
"Actually, Sir, I have plans later," I lied, looking him straight in the eye. "Can we just do it on Monday?"
The air between us crackled. I saw a flash of genuine anger in his eyes—not the "I'm your teacher" anger, but something raw and possessive.
"The deadline is firm, Caroline," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous warning. "Monday is too late. My office. 4 PM. Don't be late."
He walked away before I could protest.
"Whoa," Justin breathed, shaking his head. "Strict pala talaga siya, 'no? He looked like he wanted to give me a failing grade just for sitting here."
"He's just... like that," I said, but my heart was racing.
At 4:00 PM, I knocked on the heavy oak door of the Faculty Office.
"Come in," his voice called out.
I entered. The office was dimly lit, the only light coming from a desk lamp and the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds. Luke was sitting behind his desk, his sleeves rolled up, looking over a manuscript.
"You're five minutes late," he said without looking up.
"The 'social calendar' ran a bit over," I retorted, sitting in the chair across from him. I crossed my legs, letting my dress hit just above the knee.
Luke finally looked up. His gaze travelled from my shoes, up to my crossed legs, and finally settled on my face. He lingered on my red lipstick for a second too long.
"Why are you doing this, Caroline?" he asked, leaning back.
"Doing what? Studying? Consulting with my professor?"
"Don't play games. You're going out with that boy. Justin."
"And? Is that against university policy? Or is there a 'Kuya' rule I missed?"
Luke stood up and walked around the desk. He leaned against the front of it, mere inches from where I was sitting. The proximity was suffocating.
"He's not for you," Luke said softly.
"And who is? You?" I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "You're too busy playing hero to Sofia. At least Justin looks at me like I'm the only girl in the room. Unlike you, who looks at me like I'm a chore."
Luke reached out, his hand gripping the armrests of my chair, effectively pinning me in. He leaned down until our noses were almost touching.
"You think I look at you like a chore?" he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.
"You have no idea how hard I have to work to not look at you, Caroline. Every day in that classroom, I am fighting the urge to tell everyone to leave so I can finally say what I'm thinking."
My breath hitched. "Then say it."
"I can't," he groaned, closing his eyes for a second. "Because I'm his best friend. And because I'm your teacher. And because..."
"Because you're in love with Sofia," I finished for him, the words tasting like poison.
Luke froze. He opened his eyes, and for the first time, I saw the true extent of his inner turmoil. He didn't pull away. If anything, he moved closer, his forehead resting against mine.
"It’s not that simple," he breathed.
"It's very simple, Luke. You're holding onto a ghost, and you're letting me haunt myself."
The phone on his desk buzzed. A text message. The screen lit up, and even from where I was sitting, I could see the name:
Sofia.
Luke straightened up immediately, the distance between us returning like a physical wall. The moment was gone. The "Distraction" had failed, but so had the confrontation.
"Get out, Caroline," he said, his voice trembling. "Go on your date. Just... get out."
I stood up, my legs feeling like jelly. I didn't say another word. I walked out of the office, but as I reached the hallway, I wiped the red lipstick off my mouth with the back of my hand.
It didn't matter how many dates I went on. The only person I wanted to see was the one person who kept telling me to leave.
Dear Diary,
I tried to use Justin to forget him. But when Luke looked at me today, I realized something terrifying. He’s not just my brother’s friend. He’s not just my professor. He’s my ruin.
And the worst part? He knows it too. He knows he’s ruining me, and he’s doing nothing to stop it. Sofia called again. She always calls at the exact moment I think I’m breaking through. I’m starting to think she’s not the ghost. I am.