Gabie's POV
I felt that same sharp anger flare again, so I instinctively squeezed August's hand to calm him down—but…
"What the hell are you doing here?" he snapped.
His voice was hard, startling the tall woman in front of us. I assumed she was August's ex-girlfriend. She wasn't wearing anything flashy—just a plain white branded blouse, stretch jeans, and ankle boots—but she carried herself like a model in a fashion magazine. Her sleek high ponytail and dark sunglasses framed her striking face. She looked expensive, like someone who didn't need to try.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked straight at me, like she was trying to figure out how someone like me ended up with someone like August. I wasn't as tall, not as glamorous. Definitely not as stunning.
But I stood my ground.
"I'm sorry, but August loves me now. I'm the one he's going to marry. Thank you—for leaving him."
That was all I could think.
"What the heck? Are you deaf now?" August growled. Her eyes were still fixed on me, ignoring his words.
"Could you please leave now if you have nothing important to say? We're tired—we just want to get inside and rest," he added, frustration rising in his tone.
Finally, the woman looked at him.
"I… I just want to talk. Just for a minute. Privately, if that's okay…" Her voice trailed off, flicking a glance at me.
"No," August said coldly. "Whatever you have to say, say it now. My fiancée stays. If anyone needs to leave, it's you—not her."
"It's… it's about you and me. I just need a minute," she said more softly now.
"I said no! Let me remind you—we're over. It died years ago. There's nothing left to talk about."
She shut her eyes and took a deep breath before speaking again.
"Look, I just came here to say sorry. I know you hate me. I'm not here for forgiveness or pity. I just… I have to say this before I leave for the States. For good."
Her voice wavered, but she continued. "What I did to you, what I did to your best friend—it was all my fault. I was… I was using dr*gs. I didn't know how far gone I was. I wanted to forget everything."
She paused, her hands trembling slightly.
"I was born from a s*x**l assault. My stepfather did that to my mom, and then… years later, he did it me too. That night—remember Stacy's birthday? You sent me home after? That's when it happened. He pointed a gun at me and told me to keep my mouth shut or he'd kill my mom."
My breath caught. I saw August tense beside me.
"I didn't know who to tell. I was ashamed. You were stationed in the province for your first assignment, and I felt completely alone. So, I drowned it all in alcohol. Then someone gave me pills, and I took them. They made me forget, for a while. But they also made me reckless."
Her voice cracked.
"That's why you found me with your best friend. I wasn't thinking, I wasn't even… myself. A few months later, my mom discovered the pills and sent me to rehab. I was there for a year. And now, she's bringing me to the States to start over. To finally get away from my stepfather."
I was frozen. I couldn't even blink.
Beside me, August's grip on my hand tightened. He was quiet—too quiet.
The woman, though teary, stood tall. She took a deep breath and finished.
"I didn't say this for forgiveness. I just needed to say it out loud. Thank you for listening. I'm glad you found the woman for you. I wish you both the best. Goodbye, August."
And just like that, she turned and walked away, leaving us stunned in silence.
I was the one who moved first. I gently unlocked the gate and tugged August inside. He followed quietly, still holding my hand.
Inside, I sat him on the couch, then went to the kitchen to get him some water. When I returned, he was hunched over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
"Here. Drink this," I said softly.
He took the glass and drank it slowly, then set it down on the table. When he looked at me again, his expression softened, and he patted the space beside him.
I sat down.
He pulled my hand and kissed it gently. "Thank you… for staying," he whispered, and then he wrapped his arms around me tightly.
"Of course. I'll always stay," I whispered back. I kissed his lips and smiled. "Are you hungry? I can cook something—"
"I changed the topic on purpose. A part of me wanted to ask, to understand everything he was feeling—but I didn't know if it was the right time, or if I even had the right. So, I held back. Maybe it's better to wait... let him open up when he's ready."
"No need," he interrupted, pulling me back into the hug. "You're tired too. Let's just cuddle. We'll order food. What do you want to eat?"
"You," I teased, pinching his cheek.
He stared at me with playful eyes. "Sa'yo lang naman ako ganito." (I only act like this for you).
I laughed. His Tagalog still sounded awkward, but endearing.
"Miracle! You're speaking Tagalog!" I grinned. "You sound so cute!"
He made a face. "My coworkers say I sound weird when I try. They say my tongue twists too much."
"Well, look at Wednesday—she wasn't great at first either, but she kept trying."
"She enrolled in Tagalog classes because she was bullied for it," he admitted.
"I know. She told me. But that's okay. You don't have to force yourself. We understand each other."
"Still… I want to get better. I can understand most of it—it's just hard to speak."
"You'll get there. Little by little."
He smiled, then his stomach growled.
"Sweetheart, you still haven't told me what we're ordering," he groaned.
"Whatever you want. I can't think right now," I replied, teasing.
He ended up ordering pizza.
While waiting, he moved the car into the garage and brought in our things. I went upstairs to shower and change, letting the warmth wash away the heaviness of the day.
***
As soon as I got down, I had a feeling it was him waiting—he was just downstairs after all. I headed straight to the kitchen, grabbed a drink from the fridge, and took two glasses, assuming we'd eat together.
Just as I stepped into the living room, he came in too.
"Come on, let's eat. I'm starving," he said, already ripping the box open.
The moment he did, my stomach churned. The smell hit me hard.
"Wait! Why does that stink? Is it spoiled? I really don't like the smell," I complained.
He had already taken a bite. His eyes widened in surprise.
"What? No way! It's still hot. It's your favorite flavor—Brooklyn Spicy Seafood. How come you suddenly don't like it?"
He continued eating, clearly baffled but too hungry to care.
"I don't want that. It stinks. It's not good," I insisted.
"What the heck?" he muttered, stunned.
"Fine, just eat. I'll find something else in the fridge."
I walked away quickly, not even looking back.
What's wrong with me? I don't even know. That pizza used to be my go-to. Now, the smell made me gag—it reminded me of… I don't even know… a musty rug or something.
Thankfully, I found a slice of bread, stiff from being in the fridge for a few days but not expired. I toasted it, grabbed some Nutella, and spread it thickly across the top.
As I sat at the dining table enjoying my makeshift meal, I could feel August watching me from the living room.
"Are you okay?" he asked, brows furrowed.
"Yeah. Are you okay? You're the one eating something that smells like it's gone bad," I said.
"It's not spoiled! I just got it freshly baked for you. Still hot when it was delivered sweetheart. What's going on with you?"
"Nothing. Sorry. I just… didn't like the smell."
He fell quiet for a moment, then cautiously asked, "Uhm… can I ask you something?"
I stayed at the table, and he remained on the couch. Honestly, we were having a weird long-distance conversation in the same room.
"Sure, what is it?"
He hesitated. "When was your last period?"
I blinked. I couldn't answer right away. When was it? I honestly couldn't remember. He stood up and walked toward me.
"Do you think maybe… we should see a doctor? OB-Gyne, maybe?" he asked softly.
My mind was spinning. I couldn't speak.
"You know we've been doing it... a few times now. And I didn't use protection."
"I know," I cut him off. "But I don't feel anything. Aren't there signs? Sickness, dizziness... I can't even remember the rest from Biology."
"Sure, but we won't know unless you get checked. I just found it strange—this pizza is your favorite, and now you hate it? That's new."
"Yeah. I've been wondering about it too…"
"And the Nutella thing. You hate chocolate spreads on bread. You used to swear by peanut butter. What's going on with your cravings?"
I looked at the half-eaten toast on my plate, then at him.
"What do you think…?"
He smiled. "Yes, sweetie. I think you're pregnant with our first child. Isn't that exciting?"
"Exciting? Love, we're not even sure yet. I still need to get checked. What if you're just hoping for nothing?"
"Nope! I'm sure! Right, baby?" he said as he gently touched my belly.
"Hey! Don't go talking to it yet! We don't even know if there's a baby!"
"I told you, I trust my semen," he said with a proud grin.
"Ugh. Go back to your stinky pizza. Finish it—and brush your teeth before you come near me!" I teased.
He laughed and returned to the sofa, happily eating again.
"Put the leftovers in a plastic container, okay? If the fridge stinks tomorrow, I'll be the one mad at you!"
He gave me a thumbs-up and even saluted me.
"Timang talaga," (You're so crazy!) he muttered, grinning.
After I finished eating, I cleaned up, ignored his TV-watching self, and went up to shower and change into pajamas. I fell asleep soon after. My body was exhausted. But my heart? It was quietly racing.
***
A few days later, he woke me up early because he said we were going somewhere since he was off. When I asked where, he said we had to go somewhere first before heading to our house so I could see and talk to Mama. I just really hoped we could get home today because he might have bought it at Divisoria during Sunday.
I later found out he had set an appointment at the OB-Gyne because he wanted us to be sure about my condition. How many times did he ask if I felt anything strange? I always told him no. It was true—I didn't feel any different. No dizziness, no nausea. The only thing I noticed was that I was eating more than before. Other than craving pizza, there wasn't much change.
When the doctor confirmed that I was six weeks pregnant, I couldn't describe what I felt. He couldn't stop crying, and the two of us just cried together. After leaving the clinic, he immediately called Grandpa and Grandma, who were also very happy. Though it hadn't fully sunk in for me, I felt mixed up inside and couldn't quite put my feelings into words.
It was past one in the afternoon when we were finally on our way home. I was so nervous, though I didn't know why. When we stopped the car in front of our house, I didn't get out right away. I wanted to gather myself first—feel myself and the house.
"Are you okay?" he asked, worried.
"Of course. I'm just a little nervous, but it's okay. I can do this. Please wait here for me a moment, okay? I'll come back when you can come in," I reminded him of our agreement.
"Okay. Relax," he said, then kissed my forehead. I nodded in response. Then I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the car door. My hands trembled—cold and clammy. I had no idea what I might find inside the house. It had been over a year since I disappeared, and I hadn't seen Mama or anyone.
Thankfully, the surroundings were quiet. Maybe everyone was inside because it was noon and the sun was hot. I walked straight through the gate toward the door and tried to turn the knob, but it was locked.
Did I have no choice but to knock? I stayed silent and knocked softly. There was no answer. I peeked through the window, but the curtains were drawn, and I couldn't see inside. Probably not Mama.
I decided to turn around and get back into the car. Maybe we'd come back another day—Mama wasn't here. But just as I was about to leave the gate completely, a familiar voice called out my name.
Gabie? Is that you?"
I instantly turned toward the familiar voice.
"Ma?" I breathed out.
There she was—Mama, standing on the roadside with Jhay. They were just about to walk into the house as I was on my way out. I hadn't seen them right away, too lost in my thoughts.
"Beshie!" Jhay called out, rushing toward me and wrapping me in a tight hug, while Mama stood frozen a few steps behind him.
"You really kept us waiting, huh? Why only now?" he teased, pulling back slightly before hugging me again. "You're even more gorgeous now—and girl, you are glowing! Where have you been hiding?"
Then, turning to Mama, he waved her over with excitement.
"Aunt! Come on, give your beautiful daughter a big hug! Look who finally came home!"
"Ma… I'm sorry," I said softly as we stood in front of the house, the weight in my chest pressing down on me like the afternoon sun above us.
But before I could say more, Mama pulled me into a tight hug. She held me like she was afraid I'd disappear again.
"Gabie…" she said, her voice hoarse and trembling. "My darling…"
I hugged her back. And for a few seconds, everything seemed to slow down. But in the middle of our embrace, I heard the quiet sobs she was trying so hard to hold back.
"Ma…" I wanted to say it was okay, that I came home for her—but she spoke first.
"Thank you for coming home. I'm sorry, my darling…" she whispered, barely audible. "I'm sorry for all the lies. I'm sorry for everything I kept from you."
I swallowed hard. Even if I already knew the truth, I felt like this wasn't the right time to bring it all up again.
"I'm sorry you had to find out when it was already too late," she said, finally breaking down in tears. "I only said those things because… I was scared. I was scared you'd get hurt—scared that you'd find out you were just the result of a one-night mistake."
I closed my eyes, holding her tighter.
"Because I love you,…" she said, now almost on her knees. "I thought I could protect you. I thought if I ran away, I could spare you the pain. But I only ended up hurting you more. Especially that night… your birthday."
I bit my lip. A part of me pitied her—because I knew what she went through wasn't easy either.
Tears slid down my cheeks, one by one, silent but heavy.
"Thank you… thank you for coming home, my daughter," she whispered again. "Not a single day passed that I didn't pray for this. Even if you're still angry… even if it still hurts… thank you for choosing to come back."
After the emotional moment, Mama asked me if I had eaten.
"Ma, don't worry—we already ate," I said, smiling at her.
"We? Are you with someone?" she asked curiously.
"Yes. I'll just call him—we'll follow you inside."
I didn't wait for her reply. I turned around and started walking away, unsure if they were still watching me or had already gone in. Before I could reach the car, the window rolled down.
"Sweetie, come on out," I called to August. "I want you to meet Mama."
He quickly stepped out, then opened the backseat to grab the food we'd brought with us. Grandma and Grandpa insisted we shouldn't come empty-handed. August carried a bag of food we ordered from the restaurant, along with a few other dishes, as we made our way to the house.
"Mom, Jhay—this is, August," I began, pausing just a beat. "He's my fiancé."
I turned to Mama, watching her expression shift from surprise to speechlessness. Jhay, on the other hand, grinned but didn't say a word.
August set the food down gently, then offered his hand politely.
"This is my mom, Teresa," I told him, "and this is Jhay—my best friend and former manager. I think I've told you about them."
Before August could respond, he stepped forward with calm confidence.
"Good afternoon. I'm August Marquez," he said.
Mama didn't speak right away. She glanced at his hand, then looked up—clearly surprised by his height. Six foot one, maybe? I bit back a laugh.
"Isn't it true… you're the one… your height really stands out," Mama finally said with a blink, clearly taken aback.
I knew what Mama was referring to — she probably recognized August right away because they had already talked before during the investigation of the shooting incident involving me.
I chuckled. Mama and I were both tall—five-foot-nine—but August towered over us.
We all laughed, and instead of just shaking Mama's hand, August held it a moment longer with gentle respect. Jhay shook hands with him as if they'd been friends for years.
There was no tension. No mention of the past. Just the easy warmth of reunion and introductions. Maybe we could talk about everything else some other day—but not today.
The four of us stood there chatting for a while. August shared how we met, and Jhay chimed in, saying August looked familiar. Mama laughed here and there; her mood lighter than I'd expected. And somehow, in that moment, everything felt a little more okay.