I woke up with a dramatic gasp, like i just survived a plane crash or something. My hand instantly reached for the other side of the bed—
Empty.
Hala. He's gone again?
"OH MY GOSH!" I sat up so fast I gave myself whiplash. "Is this the Hunger Games?! One day of peace tapos training na naman?!"
I flipped the blanket off me like i was a Disney princess rejecting the patriarchy and stared at the ceiling. "Cairo Emilien Lazarre, you traitor. I gave you my heart, my soul, my leftovers last night. And this is how you repay me?"
Grabe talaga. The audacity.
I pulled my hair into a messy bun—yes, I know, character development 'cause hindi na siya blowdry-on-command—and stomped to the kitchen of his unit.
I stared at the cold frying pan like it owed me an explanation.
"Not even scrambled eggs? Not even a Post-it that says 'BRB'? This is giving emotionally unavailable man energy."
I looked around. The living room? Empty. The balcony? Walang tao. Even the laundry basket looked lonely.
"Siri," I whispered to my phone. "How do i file emotional damages against a race car driver who ghosted me at 7 AM?"
Okay. Okay. Calm down, Elara. You're an icon. A legend. A main character. You don't beg for attention.
You make it.
So i marched out of Cairo's unit (still in my pink pajama set with strawberry prints, mind you) and slammed the door of my own unit next door. Not because i was angry—but because dramatic exits are part of my personality.
-
So there i was. Fully awake by 9:37AM—which is criminally early by actress standards—scrolling through my phone, trying to distract myself from missing my human heater.
And then i got that feeling.
Yung parang...
"I need to cause drama today. I feel it in my soul."
And that's how i ended up texting our family driver, Kuya Andy:
Hi, please pick me up. I need to be dramatic in Forbes.
Ten minutes later, I was in the backseat of the SUV, sunglasses on, lip gloss poppin', energy: main character trying to find herself through mild emotional damage.
Kuya Andy glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Ma'am, okay lang po kayo?"
I dramatically exhaled. "I'm never okay, Kuya. But thank you for asking."
When i arrived at my parents' house, the first thing i saw was my mom in the garden, clipping orchids like she was in a telenovela. My dog—Sir Fluffington—ran toward me like he sensed my emotional instability. Smart dog, well, that's actuallt my mom's dog.
"Mommy," I called out.
She looked up, surprised. "Anak? It's not even Sunday brunch. Why are you here?"
I walked toward her slowly, like a wounded socialite in a perfume commercial. "I just needed... somewhere to breathe."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're bored, aren't you?"
"No. I'm emotionally congested."
"Meaning?"
"I miss Cairo."
Boom. Exposed.
I plopped down on the garden chair, letting my silk cardigan whoosh behind me. "He's back in training. Like, not even a proper goodbye. Just... gone."
My mom handed me a slice of melon. "Sweetheart, you're being dramatic."
"Well, of course. I didn't drive here for realism."
She laughed. "You're impossible."
"I know. But at least I'm consistent."
-
I spent the next three hours dramatically walking around the house like a ghost from a canceled soap opera.
I sat on the grand piano i never learned to play. I stared at the koi pond like it could give me emotional advice.
And every five minutes, my brain went:
Cairo's probably sweating right now.
What if he's laughing with some hot racer girl?
Do they even have hot racer girls?
Maybe they're bonding over engine oil.
What if she touches his gear shift—
Okay, stop. STOP.
By 4:30PM, my mom peeked into the library-slash-dramatic-reflection-room i was curled up in.
"Are you going to be okay or are you going to stay here and haunt the house forever like a rich ghost?"
I sighed. "I don't know, Mom. It depends."
"On?"
I stood up and declared, "On whether i see Cairo's face in the next 60 minutes."
She rolled her eyes. "Then go to him."
I gasped. "What kind of mother enables stalking?"
"The kind who knows her daughter's being a little loca today."
Fair.
So i marched back to the car, Sir Fluffington trailing behind me like a supportive sidekick, and told Kuya Andy:
"Let's go. I'm going to Cairo's training camp. It's time to make questionable decisions."
-
Training camps are supposed to be sacred, right?
Like, "no distractions," "focus," "discipline"—blah blah blah.
Well, I don't believe in those three words when i'm bored and under-loved.
I sat in the backseat, applying lip balm with the intensity of a woman on a mission. My hair was in a messy-but-cute bun (emphasis on cute), and I wore my best "I just accidentally slayed this look" outfit: crop top, oversized hoodie (stolen from Cairo, obviously), and biker shorts that say I'm hot but chill but mostly hot.
"Ma'am," Kuya Andy said as we approached the area, "Are you sure they allow outsiders inside the camp?"
I smiled sweetly. "Kuya. I'm not an outsider. I'm a life-enhancing surprise."
He blinked. "Copy."
As soon as we got to the gate, I waved like i was part of a presidential convoy.
The guard squinted at me. "Ma'am, do you have a visitor's pass?"
"Sweetie, do i look like i need one?"
Pause.
He looked unsure. I looked expensive.
He opened the gate. Boom.
The camp looked exactly how Cairo described it: dusty, full of guys in jumpsuits, and intense engine noises everywhere. Medyo amoy pawis and gasolina pero... who cares? My man is here.
I strutted through like i was in an action movie.
The wind? Blowing.
My hoodie? Swishing.
My ego? Sky high.
Until—
"Elara?!"
I turned around.
And there he was.
Cairo. Sweaty. Greasy. Wearing that navy-blue jumpsuit that hugs him in all the right places. I mean, hello?! Is it hot in here or is it just... well, him?
"Hi," I said casually, pretending like i hadn't just crashed his sacred training ground uninvited.
He pulled off his gloves, confused. "What are you doing here?"
"Babe," I walked over, putting on my most innocent face, "I was in the area."
He raised an eyebrow. "We're in the mountains."
"Exactly. Such a nice area!"
I looked around and noticed some of his co-racers watching us from a distance. Chismosa boys spotted. I flashed them my Miss Universe wave. One of them awkwardly waved back.
"You drove all the way here just to see me?" Cairo asked, still shocked.
"Well, technically Kuya Andy drove. Pero yes. I missed you. A little. Maybe."
He smiled—like, full-on smug boyfriend who knows you can't resist him smile.
"Thought you said you needed space after the whole audition meltdown?"
"Yeah, well. I realized something."
"What?"
"That space is stupid and i hate being alone and you smell like car oil but i still wanna hug you."
Cairo laughed. "You're unbelievable."
"I know. And yet, here i am. Believably in front of you."
A whistle blew somewhere and some guy—maybe a coach or a boss-level racer—started shouting instructions.
"Cairo! Five more laps!"
I pouted. "You're leaving me already?"
"I have to finish. We're on tight drills today."
Ugh. Reality.
"Fine," I said, arms crossed. "I'll just sit here... lonely... bored... slowly fading away from your life..."
"Baby."
"Dying in the heat… dehydrated... ignored…"
"Elara."
I blinked at him. "Yes?"
"There's a tent with refreshments over there. Chill ka lang muna, okay? I'll be back in 20 minutes."
He kissed me on the forehead—like i wasn't being unhinged—and jogged away.
I dramatically fell onto a bench. "This is my Roman Empire," I whispered to myself.
So there i was.
Inside a race car training camp, surrounded by grease, testosterone, and the sound of tires screeching. I sipped Gatorade from a red cup like i was sipping champagne at a gala.
Some of the other trainees approached shyly.
"Hi, ma'am. Are you Cairo's…?"
"Girlfriend. Yes," I smiled proudly. "Miss Elara Celestine Zulueta. Actress, dancar, singer, future karting queen if Cairo ever teaches me."
One of them looked starstruck. "My girlfriend watches you when you appear in a drama!"
"Tell her i said hi! And that her boyfriend's cute. Kidding. Or am I?"
They laughed nervously. I still got it.
Cairo eventually came back, sweaty and a little out of breath. I handed him a towel like a supportive telenovela wife.
"Did you behave while i was gone?" he teased.
"I flirted a little with the hydration guy."
"Elara."
"Kidding! I mean… he offered me two Gatorades. But that's it. No emotional cheating."
He shook his head and pulled me into a quick, sweaty hug. "You're insane."
"And yet, you love me."
"Unfortunately."
"Excuse you?"
"Unfortunately for me, because it means i have to put up with this every time you get bored."
"I could go bother someone else, you know."
"You won't."
"Touche."
As we sat on the bench, watching the sunset cast a golden glow over the track, I leaned my head on his shoulder.
"I didn't get the role," I murmured.
"I know," he said softly. "And I'm sorry."
"I just… wanted to prove something."
"You already did."
"To them?"
"No. To yourself."
I sighed. "Fine. But i still want to be famous."
"You're already famous. You just want to be chaotic while doing it."
"That too."
And for a second, everything felt right.
Just Cairo. Just me. Just the subtle smell of gasoline and missed opportunities.
And maybe… a new plan.
But i'll tell him about it next episode. 😌