Chapter Text
Aya leaned into her client's space, the high-society laughter around her echoing hollow as she suppressed a yawn. Three hours of nodding through investment talk with Mr. Tan's business associates had left her facial muscles aching. Still, she maintained her posture, fingers lightly resting on his sleeve as she laughed at another recycled joke.
"You're absolutely wicked, Mr. Reyes," she drawled, though her eyes briefly flicked to the ornate wall clock. Eleven thirty. Almost done.
Mr. Tan turned to her, his cologne overwhelming this close. "Are you enjoying yourself, darling?"
"Immensely," she lied. "Though if you'll excuse me, I need to freshen up for a moment."
His hand lingered on her lower back as she stood. "Don't be long."
Aya navigated between tables of Manila's elite, maintaining her measured walk until she pushed through the bathroom's heavy door. The marble-clad sanctuary was blissfully empty. She exhaled, shoulders dropping as she approached the mirror.
Her reflection stared back – immaculate makeup, the designer dress Mr. Tan had selected clinging perfectly to her curves. But her eyes looked tired. She reached into her clutch for her lipstick when the door swung open.
Three women entered mid-conversation, their jewels catching the light. They fell silent upon seeing her. Aya recognized them – wives of executives from the same conglomerate as Mr. Tan.
"Good evening," Aya offered with practiced ease.
The women murmured polite responses, moving to the mirrors beside her. Their eyes darted to her reflection, then away, then back again. The familiar dance of curiosity and judgment.
"That's a beautiful dress," the tallest one finally said, voice syrupy sweet.
"Thank you. Balenciaga's latest."
"Hmm," the woman replied. "I'm sure Anton has excellent taste."
The use of Mr. Tan's first name hung in the air – a deliberate reminder of their position versus hers.
"Si Mr. Tan talaga, may eye for the finer things," another added with a thin smile. "Especially this season."
Aya applied her lipstick with steady hands, feeling their sidelong glances. The subtext was clear: she was this season's acquisition. She'd been through this enough times to recognize the territory-marking.
"Nakita ko kayo kanina," the third woman said, patting her coiffed hair. "You certainly know how to keep a man entertained."
"It's a skill," Aya replied, closing her clutch with a definitive click. "Like knowing when you're being talked about."
The women exchanged glances, embarrassment briefly flickering across their perfect features.
Aya checked her reflection one final time. The mask was back in place – confident smile, shoulders squared, eyes bright. No one in the banquet hall would see the exhaustion these women had glimpsed.
"Enjoy your evening, ladies," she said, moving toward the door.
Behind her, the whispers began before the door had fully closed.
Aya returned to the banquet hall, slipping back into her role with practiced ease. Mr. Tan's hand found her waist immediately as she approached.
"I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me," he said.
"Never," Aya replied with a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just making sure I look perfect for you."
The remaining hour passed in a blur of meaningless conversation and calculated smiles. When the night finally ended, Mr. Tan escorted her to his waiting car.
"I had a wonderful evening," he said, his fingers lingering on hers a moment too long.
"As did I." The lie came automatically.
"Perhaps next time we could continue somewhere more... private?"
Aya's smile remained fixed while her posture subtly shifted. "You know my terms, Mr. Tan. I'm an escort, not a prostitute." Her voice stayed light, conversational, though her words were firm. "I accompany. Nothing more."
Disappointment flickered across his face before he masked it. "Of course. My apologies."
"No offense taken." She'd had this conversation countless times before. Some clients accepted her boundaries. Others disappeared after the first booking. Either way, her terms never changed.
The driver dropped her at her apartment building after Mr. Tan's awkward goodbye. Alone in the elevator, Aya finally allowed her shoulders to slump. Her phone showed three missed calls from Selene, her one remaining friend, but it was too late to return them.
Instead, she scrolled through other notifications – appointment reminders, payment confirmations, and a text from her mother that she'd been avoiding for days. The familiar guilt gnawed at her as she read it again.
When will you find a real job, anak? Your father and I can't face the neighbors anymore.
Aya's jaw tightened. After everything she'd done – after selling her youth to pay off her father's gambling debts, after keeping them from losing their home – this was their concern. What the neighbors thought.
She remembered the day she'd paid the final installment. The relief that washed over her father's face, followed immediately by shame when he learned where the money came from. Her mother had cried, not from gratitude, but from the perceived disgrace she'd brought upon them.
"Hindi ako nagbebenta ng katawan," she had tried to explain. "I just accompany clients to events. That's all."
They hadn't believed her. Gradually, her childhood friends had drifted away too. Some directly questioned why she wouldn't quit now that the debts were paid. Others simply stopped calling.
"This is what I'm good at," she would say with a practiced smile when they asked. The truth was more complicated. The money was excellent, yes, but it was more than that. Independence. Control. Never owing anyone anything again.
Entering her apartment, Aya kicked off her heels and removed the diamond earrings Mr. Tan had lent her for the evening. Tomorrow they'd go back to the jeweler, and she'd receive her payment for another night of smiling through boredom and deflecting advances.
Aya's apartment greeted her with familiar silence. The sleek minimalist furniture—all neutral tones and clean lines—offered little comfort after hours of performing. She unzipped her dress with practiced ease, letting it pool at her feet before stepping into the shower. Hot water cascaded over her shoulders, washing away traces of Mr. Tan's cologne and the lingering tension from the women's bathroom encounter.
Wrapped in a plush robe, she poured herself a glass of wine and moved to the balcony. Manila's skyline sparkled below, a constellation of lights stretching toward the horizon. She sipped slowly, savoring the moment of solitude.
Her phone buzzed again. Selene.
With a sigh, Aya answered. "It's midnight, Sel."
"And you're awake! So listen—"
"Kaka-uwi ko lang," Aya interrupted, unable to keep the exhaustion from her voice. "Can this wait until tomorrow?"
"I'm outside your building."
Aya blinked. "What?"
"May dala akong Jollibee," Selene added, her voice switching between Tagalog and English with the effortless rhythm that characterized their conversations. "Your favorite. ChickenJoy with extra gravy."
Ten minutes later, Aya buzzed Selene in. Her friend arrived in full going-out attire—platform heels, a glittering mini-dress, and perfectly applied makeup despite the late hour.
"You look like hell," Selene announced, sweeping past Aya into the apartment. She placed the takeout bags on the kitchen counter and kicked off her heels. "Tan again?"
"Mmm," Aya confirmed, already digging into the food. The familiar taste of home comfort hit her senses—simple, uncomplicated pleasure after hours of pretending to enjoy overpriced French cuisine. "Why aren't you still out? Wasn't tonight the Silverman bachelor party?"
"Ewan ko ba," Selene shrugged dramatically, helping herself to fries. "The birthday boy got too handsy. I left."
Aya raised an eyebrow. "You left a booking early?"
"May standards din naman ako, 'no!" Selene protested, tossing a fry at Aya. "Besides, the agency already got paid. They can keep my cut."
Aya watched Selene demolish her Chickenjoy with the single-minded focus of someone avoiding a deeper conversation. Between bites, her friend's perfectly manicured nails tapped restlessly against the countertop.
"So..." Aya ventured, "you gonna tell me what really happened tonight?"
Selene waved dismissively, gravy nearly splattering from her spoon. "Sabi ko na, the guy was being bastos. Nothing I haven't handled before." She shrugged, but the tightness around her eyes told a different story.
"Hmm." Aya didn't push. Six years of friendship had taught her Selene would talk when ready. Instead, she asked, "Bakit hindi mo sinama si Gaia? She's usually your post-bad-client therapist."
Selene's expression brightened. "Oh my god, you're right! Where is that cousin of yours anyway?"
Before Aya could answer, Selene was already pulling out her phone, hitting speed dial. The phone rang several times before Gaia's sleepy voice answered.
"It's midnight, Selene. Someone better be dying."
"Grabe ka naman!" Selene laughed, switching to speakerphone. "Where are you? We're at Aya's apartment."
"Sleeping. Like normal people." Gaia's voice was muffled, likely from being pressed against a pillow.
"Well, stop that. We need you here." Selene's voice took on that commanding tone she used when she wouldn't take no for an answer. "Bring pulutan. We're drinking."
"We are?" Aya mouthed silently, raising an eyebrow.
Selene covered the microphone and whispered, "I need this tonight, okay?"
There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Gaia sighed audibly. "Fine. But I'm coming in pajamas, and you're paying for my Grab."
"Deal!" Selene chirped. "Book na, we'll wait!"
After hanging up, Selene immediately launched into a detailed critique of her client's friends—their tacky watches, obvious hair plugs, and desperate attempts to impress. Her voice grew louder, hands gesturing wildly as she described increasingly outrageous behavior.
Aya recognized the pattern. When something truly bothered Selene, she'd talk about everything except the actual problem.
"—and then this guy, this fucking guy, tells me I remind him of his daughter. His daughter! Can you believe—"
"Sel," Aya interrupted gently. "What really happened tonight?"
Selene's animation faltered. She stared down at her half-eaten chicken, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of breading.
"I'll tell you when Gaia gets here. I don't want to repeat it twice."
Aya nodded, reaching across to squeeze her friend's hand. Selene rarely asked for both of them at once unless something had genuinely shaken her.
"Sorry for dragging your cousin out of bed," Selene added, attempting a smile.
Aya glanced at Selene, a pang of sympathy washing over her. Poor Gaia, dragged from bed at midnight for one of Selene's dramas. Her cousin rarely complained, but Aya knew these late-night summonses were becoming more frequent.
"She'll be fine," Aya assured Selene with a gentle smile. "Gaia functions on like four hours of sleep anyway."
Selene nodded, but her usual vibrance had dimmed. The apartment fell quiet except for the distant hum of traffic below. Aya studied her friend—the slight tremor in her hands as she pushed food around her plate, the tightness around her mouth. Whatever happened tonight had gotten under her skin in a way few things did.
Without a word, Aya set down her spoon and opened her arms wide, a silent invitation.
Selene hesitated only a moment before practically collapsing into the embrace. She buried her face against Aya's shoulder, arms wrapping tightly around her waist.
"Look at you," Aya teased softly, stroking Selene's perfectly styled hair. "Such a softie underneath all that contour."
"Shut up," Selene mumbled against her robe, but her grip tightened.
"Never."
They migrated to the couch, Selene curling against Aya's side like a cat seeking warmth. Aya didn't push for details, just maintained the comfortable silence as she absently traced patterns on Selene's arm. The weight of the evening—the facade she'd maintained for Mr. Tan, the bathroom confrontation—seemed to lift slightly with the simple human contact.
The doorbell rang twenty minutes later. Selene made no move to get up, so Aya carefully extracted herself to answer.
Gaia stood in the hallway, looking surprisingly alert despite being pulled from sleep. She wore loose pajama pants and an oversized university hoodie, her hair piled messily atop her head. One hand clutched her phone while the other balanced a plastic bag that clinked with the unmistakable sound of beer bottles.
"I brought reinforcements," she announced, lifting the bag. The smell of sizzling sisig wafted from another container inside. "Plus chips and peanuts."
"You're a lifesaver," Aya said, stepping aside to let her cousin enter.
Gaia's eyebrows raised slightly as she took in the scene: Selene curled up on the couch, makeup still flawless but eyes suspiciously red-rimmed, and Aya in her bathrobe looking equally drained.
She set the food and drinks on the coffee table, then stood with hands on her hips, looking between them with the calm assessment that was purely Gaia.
"So," she said, reaching for the bottle opener on Aya's side table, "what's up?"
The beer bottles clinked as Gaia twisted off caps and distributed them around the coffee table. Selene remained curled up on one end of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, fingers fidgeting with the label on her bottle. The aromatic sisig sizzled slightly in its container, the familiar smell filling Aya's apartment.
"So," Gaia prompted after taking a long sip, "what happened tonight that got you running out on a client?"
Selene stared at her beer, suddenly finding the condensation on the glass fascinating. The silence stretched uncomfortably until she finally took a deep breath.
"Gary was there."
Aya and Gaia exchanged glances. They knew that name – Gary Oliveros, Selene's college boyfriend. The relationship had ended badly years ago, but details had always been sparse.
"Sa bachelor party?" Aya asked gently.
Selene nodded. "College friends daw sila nung celebrant. I didn't know until I was already there." Her voice grew smaller. "He recognized me right away."
Gaia's expression remained neutral, but her posture straightened slightly. "What did he do?"
"Made comments. Loud enough for everyone to hear." Selene's knuckles whitened around her bottle. "Puro, 'Oh, I see you're still doing this,' and 'How much for old time's sake?'"
Aya clenched her jaw. "Gago talaga."
"Hindi naman niya alam lahat," Selene said, though her voice lacked conviction. "Nobody does."
"What do you mean?" Gaia asked, her tone soft but direct.
Selene's eyes glistened as she looked between them. "Remember I told you I started escorting after college?"
Both nodded.
"It was during. Last year." She took a shaky breath. "My parents' car accident happened a few months before graduation."
Aya reached for Selene's hand. "I knew about the accident, pero..."
"It was a long battle." Selene's voice cracked. "Two months in ICU. Bills kept piling up. Student loans. Rent. I was drowning."
The apartment fell silent except for the distant hum of the air conditioner.
"My roommate worked as an escort. Suggested I try it." Selene shrugged. "It was just supposed to be temporary."
"And Gary?" Gaia asked.
"Gary knew about the accident," Selene continued, her voice hollow. "Sinabi ko sa kanya everything. How bad it was, how the doctors weren't sure my parents would make it."
She stared into her beer, watching the bubbles rise to the surface.
"And?" Gaia prompted gently.
"And wala." Selene's laugh was bitter. "He was so busy with his OJT, preparing for graduation. Palaging 'I can't fail this, Selene. This is my future.'" She mimicked his voice with surprising accuracy. "Like what I was going through wasn't even real."
Aya squeezed her hand. "Did you tell him about the bills?"
"I tried. Every day, another bill from the hospital. Equipment, specialists, medications." Selene shook her head. "I showed him once, when he finally visited. The stack of papers. Hundreds of thousands."
"What did he say?" Gaia asked, her calm voice a counterpoint to Selene's rising distress.
"He looked at them for like, two seconds. Then checked his watch and said he had to go." Selene's eyes filled with tears. "His supervisor was expecting him back. Can you believe that? My parents were dying, and he was worried about being late."
Aya felt anger rising in her chest. "He only visited once?"
"Once lang talaga." Selene wiped her eyes carefully, preserving her makeup even now. "I was there every day. Alone. Begging doctors, talking to insurance, trying to understand everything while watching my parents..." She swallowed hard. "I needed him. Not even money. Just... someone to sit with me."
"Every time I called, may excuse. Group project. Presentation. Meeting with supervisor." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I was drowning, and he couldn't even hold my hand."
The three women sat in silence, the weight of Selene's words hanging between them. Aya thought about all the years she'd known Selene, how she'd never shared this part of her story before.
"Tapos tonight," Selene continued, "he had the nerve to look at me like I was dirt. Like I chose this life because I wanted to." Her laugh was sharp, brittle. "Feeling niya pa, he has the moral high ground."
Gaia reached across the table, taking Selene's other hand. "He doesn't know what you went through."
"Hindi niya alam kasi he didn't care enough to find out." Selene's voice hardened. "He was too busy building his perfect future to notice mine was falling apart."
The trio's conversation eventually shifted to lighter topics as the night wore on. Empty beer bottles lined the coffee table, and the sisig container sat empty, scraped clean of its last savory bits. Selene's slurred laughter filled the apartment as she recounted one of her more ridiculous client encounters.
"I swear—" She hiccuped, leaning heavily against the couch arm. "The man had—" Another hiccup. "Seven different combs in his bathroom. Seven! For what? He's balding!"
Gaia shook her head, smiling as she began gathering the empty bottles. Her movements were methodical and quiet. "Seven combs, zero self-awareness," she commented, making Selene giggle again.
Aya stood to help, collecting the food containers while Gaia stacked the bottles. "Sa tingin ko, it's time to call it a night," she said, glancing at Selene, who was now struggling to keep her eyes fully open.
"I think you're right." Gaia's voice was soft as she looked at Selene, who'd slumped further into the couch. "I'll take her home with me. She's in no state to be alone."
Selene mumbled something incomprehensible, then attempted to stand, wobbling dramatically before Gaia steadied her with a practiced hand on her elbow.
"Whoa there." Gaia's arm slipped around Selene's waist. "I got you."
Aya watched the interaction, noticing the gentle way Gaia handled Selene, the unconscious lean of Selene's body toward Gaia's. There was history there—more than a year since their breakup, but some habits remained ingrained.
"Take care of her, ha?" Aya said quietly as they moved toward the door. "She's putting on a brave face, pero..."
"I got her," Gaia replied, her eyes softening as Selene rested her head against her shoulder. "I always got her."
The weight behind those simple words wasn't lost on Aya. Despite their breakup, despite everything, Gaia had remained Selene's rock—the steady presence when storms hit.
Aya hugged Selene, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Text me tomorrow, okay? Kapag gising ka na."
"Mm-hmm," Selene murmured, eyes already half-closed.
Aya turned to her cousin, giving her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek as well. "Text me when you get home? Para hindi ako mag-worry."
"Will do," Gaia promised, already guiding Selene toward the elevator.
Aya watched them go—Selene tucked protectively against Gaia's side, Gaia's movements careful and attentive. The elevator doors closed, and Aya returned to her now-quiet apartment.
She finished tidying up, then padded to her bedroom. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she checked her emails one last time, deleting spam and flagging a message from her agent for tomorrow. Her phone buzzed just as she finished brushing her teeth.
A text from Gaia: Home safe. She's already asleep. Don't worry.
Aya smiled faintly, sending back a simple heart emoji before setting her phone on the nightstand. She slipped between her cool sheets, the events of the night weighing on her mind as she drifted off to sleep.