Gian

"Sometimes I really don't understand what you're up to. Why are we out shopping right now?" Kaia asked, her eyebrows raised in confusion as she glanced around. She adjusted her oversized sunglasses, pushing them up into her hair like a headband.

"I just miss shopping," I replied with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant as I ran my fingers along a row of silk blouses. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

A saleswoman hovered nearby, maintaining that perfect retail balance of being available without being intrusive. She smiled politely when our eyes met, but I turned away, not ready for assistance yet. I needed space to think, to breathe.

The truth was, I needed new clothes—and more importantly, I needed escape.

"Your coping mechanism is something else, girl—as they say, only rich people problems," Kaia said, laughing as she pulled a sparkly silver dress off a rack and held it up to herself in the mirror. The sequins caught the light, sending tiny reflections dancing across her face. "Retail therapy while your life's falling apart."

She wasn't wrong. Shopping was my way of escaping, even if just for a moment. It was like a temporary bandage over a wound—something that made me feel better for a while but didn't fix anything in the long run. I moved deeper into the store, past a mannequin wearing what had to be the most impractical white jumpsuit I'd ever seen. My fingers trailed along the fabrics—silk, cashmere, fine cotton—the textures grounding me in the present.

"So, just grab everything you want, and I'll pay for it," I said, picking up a midnight blue cocktail dress and adding it to the growing collection draped over my arm. I couldn't help but laugh when Kaia's eyes widened at my words.

"Gi, what's gotten into you? Are you feeling okay? Are you sick or something?" she asked, half-joking and half-serious as she pressed the back of her hand to my forehead like a mother checking for fever. "I mean, if this is how you're gonna be, I hope you never recover!" She laughed, clearly amused at my sudden generosity. I just shook my head at her.

The saleswoman, sensing opportunity, glided over. "Would you like me to start a fitting room for you, ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you," I replied, handing over the armful of clothes I'd accumulated. As she disappeared with my selections, Kaia fixed me with a knowing look.

"Is this because of the Sullivans? Have you lost all sense of money that you're just wasting it now? If this is how it's going to be, maybe you should actually go through with the wedding." She winked, but there was a hint of seriousness in her voice that caught me off guard.

"I can see that he wants to get out of this situation just as much as I do,"

The fitting room was ready, the saleswoman informed us with a deferential nod. Kaia followed me into the private area at the back of the store, settling onto a plush velvet ottoman while I stepped behind the curtain.

"I don't want to trap him in a marriage that lacks love," I continued, my voice softer now as I slipped out of my street clothes and reached for the first dress. The cool fabric slid over my skin as I thought about the reality of our arrangement. "Just thinking about it—being in a loveless marriage, going through the motions without any real connection—I can't do it. I don't want that for him, or for myself."

Even though we had our disagreements and often clashed over the smallest things—his insistence on punctuality, my tendency to make decisions based on instinct rather than data, his methodical approach to everything versus my creative chaos—I couldn't stand the idea of him being forced into something that wasn't genuine.

I emerged from behind the curtain in a burgundy wrap dress, turning to check the back in the three-way mirror. "What do you think?"

Kaia tilted her head, considering. "The color is amazing on you, but the cut is doing nothing for your figure. Next."

I disappeared behind the curtain again, grateful for her honesty. As I reached for the next dress, I continued our conversation.

"I've seen how he loves—how deeply he cares for his family, how loyal he is to his friends. I know that with a heart like his, he's capable of giving so much love to the person he truly chooses."

I thought about the way Gavin's face softened when he talked about his younger sister, or how he still called his grandfather every Sunday without fail. The way he remembered every staff member's name at his office, from the executives to the maintenance crew.

"It would be such a waste for his ability to love so deeply to go unfulfilled, or worse, to be given to someone he doesn't actually care for. He deserves a love that's real, not just something like this. And, honestly, so do I."

I turned away from the mirror. "I'll try on the blue one next."

Behind the curtain again, I slipped out of the black dress with relief. The conversation was venturing into territory I wasn't ready to explore, even with Kaia. Especially with Kaia, whose ability to see through my defenses had been honed through years of friendship.

"Speaking of your mother's suspicions," Kaia called through the curtain, not willing to let me escape so easily. "What exactly has she been saying or doing that's got you worried?"

I sighed, pulling the midnight blue dress over my head. The silk was cool against my flushed skin. "It's not just one thing. It's a lot of little things. She watches us too closely when we're together, like she's studying our interactions. And the questions she asks are becoming more specific, more pointed."

"That could just be normal mother-of-the-bride stuff," Kaia suggested, "But I know your mom. She doesn't ask casual questions—everything has a purpose."

"Exactly."

"That's definitely suspicious," Kaia agreed.

"Maybe. But then yesterday, she accidentally walked in on us in the garden when we were having an argument about this whole situation. We switched to our loving couple act immediately, but I'm not sure how much she heard before she announced herself."

Kaia's eyes widened. "Oh, that's not good. Your mom has always had that scary sixth sense about when people are lying to her."

"Exactly," I agreed, feeling a fresh wave of anxiety tighten my chest. "Remember when we were teenagers and tried to convince her we'd been studying at the library instead of at that party in Makati?"

"How could I forget? She looked at us for maybe five seconds before she recited the exact address of the party and the names of the boys we'd been talking to." Kaia shuddered at the memory, her gold earrings catching the light.

"I'm telling you, Kaia, she's onto us. I can feel it. And if she figures it out..." I let the sentence hang unfinished, turning back to the mirror.

"Have you told Gavin about your concerns?" Kaia asked, fixing a strap that had twisted on my shoulder.

I shook my head. "Not yet. He's already stressed about the merger details. His father's been putting a lot of pressure on him lately."

"Gi, I don't feel this store," Kaia said, giving the boutique we'd just left a dismissive glance over her shoulder. "Let's move on to the next one. I've got a better feeling about the shop across the way. Maybe they'll have something more to our taste."

"You actually applied?" Kaia asked, her voice filled with surprise. I hadn't realized she was standing behind me, peering over my shoulder at my phone. She was reading the email I had just received from the Maison de Verre in Paris.

I quickly tilted the screen away, feeling oddly protective of the message—as if shielding it from view might somehow protect the fragile hope it had kindled.

"I didn't know you actually went ahead and sent them your portfolio," she added, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah," I said with a sigh, finally lowering my phone to meet her gaze. "There's nothing to lose."

But that wasn't entirely true. There was plenty to lose—my father's approval, the tentative peace we'd established over the past years, the delicate balance I'd struck between my own aspirations and family expectations. I could feel my heart racing as I thought about it. This wasn't just any opportunity; this was the Maison de Verre Residency. Only six designers were selected globally each year was something most designers only dreamed about. Getting accepted wasn't just an accomplishment—it was career-defining.

Kaia knew the whole story—how Dad had blown up when he'd discovered my previous application to the Parisian program three years ago. It had caused weeks of tension, culminating in him cutting off financial support for my small design studio. The unspoken agreement had been clear: my "hobby," as he called it, could continue as long as it remained just that—a hobby.

Kaia studied my face for a moment, concern in her eyes. "Gi, be honest with me. Do you really still want to go through with this?" she asked softly, her tone more serious now. Her question hit me hard. It was one I had been asking myself constantly since hitting "send" on the application three months ago.

I hesitated, unsure of what to say. "I... I don't know," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want everything to happen again like before." The memories of those tense days, the disappointment in Dad's eyes, all came flooding back. I didn't want to repeat that. But at the same time, a part of me was desperate to take this chance, to see if my dreams could really come true.

"You know I've believed in your talent from the beginning," Kaia said, her voice steady and reassuring. I nodded, feeling a warmth in my chest. Yes, I knew that. Kaia had always been my biggest supporter, never missing a chance to remind me of her faith in my abilities, even when I doubted myself.

"But Kaia," I started, my voice trailing off as a wave of uncertainty washed over me.

And then there was the matter of my engagement, fake as it might be. How would a six-month stint in Paris fit into that narrative?

Kaia seemed to sense my hesitation. "Look," she said softly, "the email says you have six months to decide if you're selected. There's no rush. Take your time to think about it. And whatever you choose, I'm here for you. I support you, no matter what." Her words were like a soothing balm, and I felt a bit of the tension ease from my shoulders.

She gave me a gentle smile, her hand moving to rest lightly on my arm, a small but comforting gesture. It reminded me that I wasn't alone in this.

"Gianna?" someone called out, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turned around, searching for the source of the voice. A tall guy was approaching us, someone who seemed oddly familiar. He had pale skin, sharp features, and a confident, almost charismatic presence. I knew I had seen him before, but I couldn't immediately place him.

As he got closer, Kaia leaned in and whispered to me, "Isn't that the guy from the bar? Sadie's birthday?" She paused for a second, then added, "Sadie's friend." And then it clicked. Right, he was Sadie's friend. Jax Andrei Chua.

How could I forget him? We'd had that ridiculous conversation about our names. Andrei and Andree.

"Oh, hi!" I greeted him, quickly tucking my phone into my purse, the Paris email temporarily forgotten.

"I thought that was you," he said, his smile genuine as he approached. He was dressed in dark jeans and a simple white button-down that somehow looked both casual and carefully chosen. "Gianna Andree Laurent, right?"

I laughed, remembering our surprisingly in-depth conversation at Sadie's party. "And you're Jax."

His eyes lit up, clearly pleased I remembered. "Well, you did make a compelling argument about the historical significance of the double E in Filipino naming conventions influenced by Spanish colonization," he replied with mock seriousness. "Or maybe it was just the three mojitos talking."

I couldn't help but laugh again.

"How's your sustainable housing project going?" I asked, remembering our lengthy discussion about his architectural philosophy.

"You remember that?" He looked genuinely pleased. "It's actually going really well. We just wrapped up that eco-resort in Palawan I told you about."

"I'll show you sometime. The photos don't do it justice, but the sustainability metrics have exceeded even our projections," he said with unmistakable pride. "Though honestly, I've been splitting my time between that and getting the new restaurant chain off the ground."

"I forgot you mentioned you were expanding into hospitality," I said. At Sadie's party, he'd talked about his multiple ventures—how architecture was his passion, but he'd also built a small empire of businesses spanning hospitality, tech investments, and sustainable product development.

Jax seemed to notice my self-consciousness and smiled. "Listen, I'd love to continue this conversation properly. Maybe I could treat you to coffee sometime? We could talk about potential collaborations for the new commercial complex I'm developing in BGC. The interiors need someone with your perspective."

"That sounds—" I began, but was interrupted by the sudden, sharp ring of Jax's phone. He glanced at it and his expression shifted.

"I'm so sorry, I have to take this," he said, genuine regret in his voice. "It's about the venture capital meeting for my sustainable materials startup. The investors moved up the timeline."

He hesitated, then pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to me. "Please give me a call if you're interested in that coffee. I'd really like to hear more about your work."

I glanced at the card—thick black cardstock with embossed silver text. It wasn't just a typical business card; it featured multiple company logos and listed his various titles: Principal Architect, Chua Design Group • CEO, Terraza Hospitality • Founder, EcoVentures Philippines.

"I will," I promised, taking the card. "Good luck with your investors."

"Great. Sorry again ladies. It was nice seeing you both," he said, already backing away, phone to his ear. He gave a final wave before turning and disappearing into the crowd of shoppers.

There was a moment of silence as I tucked the card into my purse, acutely aware of Kaia's gaze burning into the side of my face.

"What?" I finally asked, turning to her with what I hoped was an innocent expression.

"Oh, nothing," Kaia said, her voice dripping with amusement. "Just observing that Mr. Architect seemed very interested in you."

"That man is interested in more than your design portfolio, Gi."

"You're imagining things," I said dismissively, though a small part of me couldn't help but wonder if she was right. Not that it mattered—my life was complicated enough without adding another variable to the equation.

"Am I? He remembered your full name. He kept that whole naming debate in mind for weeks after meeting you once at a party where, might I remind you, you were mostly preoccupied with sniffing Gavin's neck."

"Kaia!" I exclaimed, mortified. "Keep your voice down!"

She laughed, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "I'm just saying, he likes you. And from where I was standing, you weren't exactly pushing him away.”