Will you Remember me?
Article 2: missed connection
That evening, Kaila sat cross-legged on her bed, the lamp casting a warm yellow circle across the open pages of her diary. The house was quiet—Mom was grading papers in the living room, Dad still on shift. Only the soft scratch of her pen broke the silence.
She wrote slowly, letting the words pull the day back together so tomorrow's version of herself wouldn't wake up completely lost.
March 12
Today the bus driver slammed the brakes again and I almost fell flat on my face. A tall guy caught me before I could crash. His arms were so strong—solid muscle under his shirt, like he could hold up the whole world if he wanted to. I ended up pressed right against his chest and… God, I blushed so hard. His breath brushed my cheek—fresh like mint and cool water, clean and warm at the same time. It made my stomach flip in a way I've never felt before. For a second our faces were so close I could see the little flecks of gold in his dark eyes and the faint scar near his eyebrow.
He said, "I've got you," in this low, calm voice that made me feel safe even though my heart was hammering. He told me to hold the rail next time and gave me this small, tired smile. I kept stealing glances at him the whole ride. He looked quiet, a little worn out, like something heavy was sitting on his shoulders. I don't know his name yet, but I can't stop thinking about how solid he felt. How safe.
P.S. Mom made sinigang. It was good. Don't forget the Lit quiz tomorrow.
Kaila read the entry twice, cheeks warming again at the memory. She closed the diary gently and hugged it to her chest for a moment, then set it on her bedside table like always. Tomorrow she would open it, read these words from a girl who shared her handwriting, and try to make sense of the strange flutter in her chest. For now, she let herself fall asleep still feeling the ghost of those strong arms around her waist.
Across town, the Italian restaurant was dimly lit and smelled of garlic and fresh bread. Klyve sat at their usual corner table, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, a glass of water in front of him instead of wine. Marco, Jay, and Rico were already two glasses in, laughing too loud and gesturing with their forks like they were in court themselves.
Marco leaned forward, eyes bright. "Eu, come on. We're not dropping this. One date. Just once. You're thirty, you look like that, you win every damn case they throw at you, and you still act like letting anyone close is some kind of crime."
Klyve rubbed his left temple once, slow, the low throb from earlier still lingering under the surface. He gave a dry half-smile. "I'm fine."
"Fine," Jay snorted. "That's your problem. You're always 'fine.' Remember that girl on the bus this morning? The one who almost face-planted into your chest? You lit up talking about her laugh yesterday. She sounded cute. Young, yeah, but you said she blushed like crazy when you caught her."
Rico pointed his fork at Klyve. "Exactly. Life's too short, man. You ride that Rebel 500 like you're invincible, but we all know you're not letting yourself feel anything real. Just ask her out. Coffee. Dinner. Whatever. Worst case she says no and you go back to being the golden boy everyone whispers about. Best case… you finally know what it feels like to be looked at the way she looked at you today."
Klyve stared at the condensation on his glass. He thought about the girl—Kaila, though he still didn't know her name. The way her hands had pressed against his chest for balance, the surprised little sound she made, the pink that rushed to her cheeks when their faces were inches apart. She was eighteen at most, still carrying schoolbooks and that fresh, untouched energy. He was thirty, carrying a reputation that felt heavier every year and whatever was making his head ache like this more often lately. It was stupid. Reckless.
But when she had looked up at him with those wide eyes, something in his chest had eased. For those few seconds he hadn't felt like the undefeated lawyer or the guy everyone photographed. He had just felt… seen.
"Maybe," he said quietly, the word slipping out before he could stop it.
His friends grinned like they'd already won the case.
Marco clapped him on the shoulder. "That's progress. 'Maybe' from you is basically a signed contract. Next time you see her on that bus, don't just catch her—talk to her. Get her number. Live a little, Eu."
Klyve didn't answer right away. He took another sip of water, the cool liquid steadying him. Tomorrow he would take the bus again. Same route. Same time. If she was there… maybe he wouldn't wait for the brakes to throw her into him. Maybe he'd finally say something real.
Because for the first time in a long while, the idea of letting someone close didn't feel impossible.
It just felt terrifying in a way no courtroom ever had.
The next morning Kaila woke with that familiar fog behind her eyes. She reached for the diary on her bedside table and opened it to yesterday's page, reading her own neat handwriting like it was a story someone else had lived.
March 12 – Bus driver slammed the brakes. Tall guy caught me before I fell. Strong arms, solid muscles under his shirt. His breath smelled fresh like mint and clean water—it made my stomach flip. Faint scar near his eyebrow, tired eyes, calm voice. He smiled and told me to hold the rail. I kept looking at him the whole ride. Don't know his name yet, but I can't stop thinking about how safe he felt.
A small smile touched her lips, but it faded quickly into something quieter. She added a hopeful note at the bottom of today's blank page: Look for the tall guy with the scar on the bus today. Maybe talk to him this time.
She got ready on autopilot—uniform, ponytail, quick breakfast with Mom—and walked to the bus stop with that flutter still sitting low in her chest. The morning felt heavier than usual, the air sticky with humidity. When the bus finally pulled up, she boarded and scanned the seats and standing spots, heart picking up speed.
He wasn't there.
No tall figure by the window, no sharp jaw or faint scar, no quiet presence that made the crowded bus feel a little less chaotic. Disappointment settled in her stomach like a stone—small but heavy. She told herself it was silly. He was just some guy who had caught her once. Probably busy with whatever important life he had. Still, the ride to university felt longer than usual. She stood near the middle, holding the rail tightly, stealing glances at every tall man who boarded, hoping each time it might be him. It never was. By the time she stepped off at her stop, the flutter had turned into a quiet ache of letdown. She kept replaying yesterday in her head, wishing she had said something more than a shy thank you.
At school, the campus was alive with chatter and the rustle of notes. Kaila found Mara at their usual bench under the acacia tree, legs crossed, eating a siopao while scrolling her phone.
Mara looked up immediately, sensing something. "You've got that face again. Spill. Did you see him? The bus guy?"
Kaila dropped onto the bench, shoulders slumping a little. "No. He wasn't on the bus today. I looked for him the whole ride and felt… disappointed. Like something was missing. I don't even remember his face clearly anymore. It's all fuzzy. But I wrote everything in the diary last night." She pulled the diary from her bag, flipped to the page, and read aloud in a soft voice. "Tall guy. Strong arms, solid muscles under his shirt. His breath smelled fresh like mint and clean water—it made my stomach flip. Faint scar near his eyebrow, tired eyes, calm voice. He smiled and told me to hold the rail. I kept looking at him the whole ride."
Mara listened closely, chewing slower. She tilted her head, thinking. "Sounds like someone who dresses nice. Formal attire, right? Maybe a government worker or some office guy in a suit. The scar on the eyebrow is interesting—makes him sound kind of mysterious. Tired eyes could mean he works long hours. Could be anyone, but the way you described the muscles… damn, he must hit the gym. You're lucky you got to feel that even for a second. I'm a little jealous already."
Kaila gave a small laugh, the disappointment easing just a bit with Mara's easy speculation. "Yeah… it felt safe. I wish I had talked to him yesterday. I was too shy. Now I keep wondering if he'll be there tomorrow."
They talked a little longer about classes and random gossip, then parted ways after the last bell. Kaila walked home alone, the afternoon sun warm on her back, still carrying that quiet letdown from the empty bus seat.
Halfway home, she passed a busy intersection where a large billboard caught her eye. It was one of those sleek corporate ads—clean white background, bold text promoting a law firm. In the center stood a tall man in a perfectly tailored dark suit, crisp white shirt, looking straight at the camera with sharp confidence. Dark hair, sharp jaw… and that faint scar cutting through one eyebrow.
Kaila stopped dead on the sidewalk. Her eyes widened slowly as the pieces clicked. The formal attire Mara had guessed, the scar, the tired but steady gaze… it matched everything she had read from her diary.
"No wayyyyy…" she whispered, heart suddenly hammering. "No… it's impossible. I might be overthinking it… it's no way she met him. Hahaha…"
She shook her head hard, forcing a nervous laugh as she started walking again, faster this time. "Just a coincidence. Lots of tall guys with scars. No way that was actually him. Ridiculous."
But the image stayed burned in her mind the whole way home—the man on the billboard who looked exactly like the one whose strong arms had caught her yesterday.
That night, back in her room, she opened the diary and wrote more, the words coming slower, heavier with feeling.
March 13
Didn't see him on the bus today. I looked the whole ride and felt… disappointed. Like something was missing. I read Mara what I wrote about him—tall, strong muscles, fresh breath, scar near eyebrow, tired eyes. She thinks he might be some government worker or office guy in a suit. I wish I had talked to him yesterday. I was too shy. Now I keep wondering if he'll be there tomorrow. His calm voice, the way he smiled… it felt safe. I'm nervous and excited and scared all at once.
P.S. Wear the blue top tomorrow. Don't overthinking it too much.
Klyve, across town in his quiet apartment after another long day at the firm, sat on the couch with his phone in hand. The bus had felt emptier without her shy glances. He rubbed his left temple, the low throb steady but manageable, and stared at the blank screen.
He had almost approached her properly yesterday. Maybe tomorrow he would.
One more morning. That was all he was asking for right now.
To be continued.