June 21.
Dear Diary,
Sabi nila, Sunday is a day of rest. Pero bakit pagod na pagod ako? Tonight was the weekly family dinner. Marcus invited Sofia, and of course, Luke was there too. It was supposed to be a celebration for the start of the semester, but it felt more like a test of endurance.
I watched him again. It’s a habit I can’t break. Every time Sofia laughed, Luke’s eyes would flicker toward her for a second too long. It’s a quiet kind of longing—the kind that doesn’t make a sound but breaks everything in its path. And me? I’m just here, holding my fork, watching the man I love look at the woman my brother loves.
Ang gulo, Diary. Ang sakit sa ulo. At mas masakit sa puso.
.
The Cruz household always smelled like home on Sundays—adobo, steaming rice, and the scent of the sampaguita bushes outside. But tonight, the air felt thick, like the humidity before a storm.
"CC, can you help me with the plates?" my mom called out from the kitchen.
"Coming, Ma!"
I smoothed out my denim skirt. I had chosen a casual knitted top—something soft, something that made me look less like a student and more like a woman. As I walked into the dining room, the front door opened.
"We’re here!" Marcus’s booming voice filled the hallway.
I froze at the entrance of the kitchen. Marcus walked in with his arm draped over Sofia’s shoulders. Sofia was glowing, as usual. She was wearing a simple linen dress, her hair in effortless waves. She was the kind of woman who didn't have to try, and that was exactly why she was so dangerous.
And trailing behind them was Luke.
He looked different tonight. No tie, no blazer. Just a black polo shirt with the top button undone. He looked younger, more relaxed, yet there was a shadow in his eyes that he couldn't quite hide behind his polite smile.
"Hey, Brat," Marcus teased, ruffling my hair as he passed. "Sofia brought that cheesecake you like."
"Hi, CC! You look so pretty tonight," Sofia said, leaning in to give me a cheek-to-cheek kiss.
"Thanks, Ate Sofia," I managed to say, my smile feeling stiff.
Then, Luke was standing in front of me. The height difference always made me feel small, but tonight, it felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff.
"Caroline," he greeted. His voice was a low hum. "How was your first week of 'Romantic Poets'?"
"Surviving," I replied, trying to sound witty.
"Although my professor is a bit of a hard-hitter."
A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "He’s just trying to make sure you don't settle for mediocre prose."
"Kayo talaga, puro kayo school," Marcus laughed, pulling out a chair for Sofia. "Luke, sit down. Dad’s opening the good wine tonight."
The dinner started out like any other. My parents were asking about Marcus’s firm and Sofia’s latest design project. I stayed quiet, playing with my food, but my eyes were doing their own investigative work.
I noticed it when Sofia reached for the water pitcher at the same time Luke did.
Their hands didn't touch, but Luke pulled his back as if he’d been burned. He looked away immediately, focusing on his wine glass, his jaw tightening. It was a split-second reaction, but to me—someone who spent her life studying him—it was as loud as a shout.
"Are you okay, Luke? You're quiet tonight," Sofia asked, her voice filled with genuine sisterly concern.
"Just tired," Luke replied, his voice clipped. "The new semester is always a bit overwhelming."
"You work too hard," Sofia said, smiling. She turned to Marcus. "Hon, tell your best friend to take a break. Baka mamaya maging kamukha na niya yung mga luma niyang libro."
Marcus chuckled and slapped Luke on the back. "He’s a nerd, Sof. What do you expect? But seriously, Luke, you should go out more. Dating, maybe?"
The air in the room seemed to vanish. I held my breath, waiting for Luke’s answer.
Luke took a slow sip of his wine, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere past Marcus’s shoulder.
"I'm not really looking. I’m content where I am."
"Content? O may hinihintay?" my mom teased.
Luke’s gaze inadvertently drifted toward Sofia before he quickly redirected it to me. "I think some things are better left as they are, Tita. Right, Caroline?"
I felt like he was testing me. Like he knew I was watching the cracks in his armor.
"I think... sometimes we stay 'content' because the thing we really want is the one thing we aren't allowed to have," I said, my voice bolder than I intended.
The table went silent for a heartbeat. Luke’s eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of something—warning? curiosity?—flickering in the brown depths of his irises.
"Deep naman ng kapatid ko," Marcus broke the silence, oblivious as ever. "Pass the adobo, please."
After dinner, the group moved to the veranda. The boys were talking about basketball, and Sofia was showing my mom some fabric swatches. I slipped away to the kitchen to start on the dishes, needing a moment to breathe.
The warm soapy water felt grounding. I was lost in thought when I heard footsteps behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. The air always felt heavier when he was near.
"You should be resting. It’s Sunday," Luke said, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Someone has to do the work," I said, not looking at him. "Besides, I like the quiet."
"You've been very observant tonight, Caroline."
I stopped scrubbing the plate. "Is that a crime, Professor?"
He sighed, moving closer. I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "No. But sometimes, when you look too closely, you see things you’re better off not knowing."
I turned to face him, my hands still dripping with bubbles. "Like what? Like the fact that you’re miserable because you're in love with someone who's literally family?"
The silence that followed was terrifying. Luke’s expression didn't change, but his eyes turned cold, then incredibly sad. He didn't deny it. He didn't get angry. He just looked at me like I had finally read the one page he tried to keep glued shut.
"You're too young to understand the complexity of these things," he whispered.
"I’m 22, Luke. Hindi na ako bata."
"Then act like it," he snapped softly, his voice sharp. "Stop looking for ghosts in corners where they don't belong."
He turned to leave, but he stopped at the doorway, his back to me. "And Caroline? Clean your hands. You're getting soap everywhere."
I watched him walk back to the veranda, back to the light, back to the woman he couldn't have. I looked down at my hands. They were shaking.
I reached for my diary, which I had left on the kitchen island. I didn't write a long entry. Just one sentence that summed up the entire night.
He’s hurting, and I’m hurting because he’s hurting for her.