The next few days passed in a strange, careful rhythm.
Gigi still woke up early. Still ironed her blazers. Still walked into the Santillan & Co. building like she owned every floor. But something inside her had softened.
She hadn't kissed Caloy. They hadn't defined anything. But the rooftop changed things. Not because of a confession - but because of the permission it gave her.
Permission to not run.
Permission to feel - even if it scared her.
Permission to let someone stay without owing them everything.
Raymond had kept his distance since the kiss. Professional, reserved, even guarded. Gigi noticed. And she appreciated it. But part of her also wondered: Was that it? Just one misstep and silence?
She didn't miss him - not in the way women usually missed men. She missed the power she held in their conversations, the way he looked at her like she wasn't predictable.
But power, she realized, wasn't the same as connection.
And Gigi no longer wanted one at the expense of the other.
At the Friday pitch meeting, she presented her luxury brand campaign - flawless, elegant, and emotionally sharp. When she finished, Raymond clapped first. But that's all it was. A polite clap. No eyes lingering. No tension.
It was done.
After the meeting, Mia cornered her in the pantry. "You're glowing. Are you… seeing someone?"
Gigi raised an eyebrow. "What does 'glowing' even mean?"
"It means you look like you're sleeping well and maybe someone's texting you good morning."
Gigi smirked. "I sleep well because I cut people off after one red flag."
"But… someone's texting you good morning?"
Gigi sipped her coffee. "Just someone who brings me rooftop wine and knows when not to talk."
Mia's eyes widened. "Wait. Caloy?"
She shrugged. "I don't know what it is. Or what it's becoming. But for the first time, I'm not panicking."
That night, as she walked into the house, the hallway lights were off and the silence was sharp. She heard voices - quiet, urgent - from the dining room.
It was her grandfather and father. Talking about her.
"She's too proud, Mario," Lolo Ben said. "A girl needs a man eventually. It's unnatural to keep pushing them away."
"She just needs to meet someone who can put her in her place," her father replied. "She gets it from her mother."
Gigi's hand curled into a fist around her bag strap.
Another version of her - maybe younger, maybe more fragile - would've quietly walked past and buried the pain.
But not this Gigi.
She stepped into the room. "You know I can hear you, right?"
The two men froze.
"You talk like I'm defective for being whole without a man. Like the only ending I deserve is one where I bow down."
"Anak - "
"No. Don't 'anak' me. I'm not your girl anymore. I'm my own girl now."
She turned to leave, but her grandfather's voice stopped her.
"You'll regret it someday, Gigi. All that pride. It'll leave you lonely."
She paused.
Then turned back. Calm. Dead honest.
"Being alone isn't my fear, Lolo. Becoming like you is."
And then she left the room.
She climbed the stairs, shut her door, and texted Caloy two words.
Gigi: Come over.
Not because she needed saving.
Not because she was broken.
But because she was finally choosing who to let in - and why.
And maybe, just maybe, love wasn't a scam.
Maybe it was just something that needed to be rewritten…
on her own terms.