I found myself standing outside Rye's condo. I had to ask my mom for permission to stay overnight at a classmate's place, which she readily granted. But just to be sure, I called my kind cousin to watch over her for the night.
Rye's condo is a marvel of modern architecture, nestled on the 18th floor of a prestigious condominium building that is well-known for its luxury and exclusivity. As I step out of the elevator, I am greeted by the sight of sleek glass walls that stretch high into the sky, reflecting the city lights like a shimmering mirage. The building's exterior is a masterpiece of contemporary design, with clean lines and sophisticated aesthetics that set it apart from the surrounding structures.
The lobby exudes elegance, adorned with marble floors and minimalist furnishings that exude a sense of opulence without being ostentatious. Polished brass accents catch the light, adding a touch of glamour to the space. The concierge desk stands as a symbol of impeccable service, ready to cater to the needs of the discerning residents.
As I approached Rye's unit, I was captivated by the panoramic view visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The cityscape unfolds before me like a living tapestry, and the twinkling lights below create an enchanting ambiance. The condo's location on the 18th floor offers an elevated perspective, making it an enviable vantage point for anyone lucky enough to call it home.
My heart races as I stand outside Rye's condo, my hand hesitating to press the doorbell. My nerves are on edge, and I can't seem to gather the courage to go through with it. What could I possibly say if they asked why I'm here? Should I admit that I felt threatened by?
Rye and was worried about what might transpire between the two of them?
"Alright, Diane. This is now or never," I told myself, closing my eyes for a moment before attempting to press the doorbell again. But just before I can do it, the door opens. I don't need to see the person who opened it, I already recognize his cologne.
"Oh, what brings you here?" Tyrone asks, clearly surprised. He seemed to be in a hurry, judging from his outfit.
"Ah-uh--didn't Rye tell you? We're staying overnight because we have something to work on for a subject," I lied.
"Really?" he replies, his eyes twinkling as if he's thinking of something. "Do you always do this?"
I thought he had caught me, but apparently not.
"You mean staying overnight?" I asked. He nods. "Yeah, it's not the first time."
"Good," he says with a serious expression. "You shouldn't trust someone like Rye, especially when you're alone together."
I couldn't help but laugh at his words. Did he just warn me about Rye? Of all people, he told me to be cautious with Rye. He raised an eyebrow at me.
"Of all people, Ty," I said.
"Why?" he asks, and I can sense a hidden meaning in his words. "You don't know what effect you have on men, Diane."
"And what effect is that, Ty?" I inquire, but he doesn't respond and simply remains silent.
"Rye isn't here. He said he'd sleep in another condo," Tyrone suddenly reveals. I'm shocked by what I hear. Rye never even mentioned it to me. I know exactly which another condo Tyrone is referring to—Vince's place—but I doubt Tyrone knows about that.
"Ah, okay. I guess I'll go then," I said, quickly running out of the condo. I hear him calling after me, but I don't want to look back. I feel so embarrassed, and the thought of Jun-Jun being around when we're alone makes it even worse.
As I stood there, fulfilling my duty in the shop, a sense of weariness washed over me, and I let out a tired yawn. Today, Tyrone was absent, and I couldn't help but wonder where he had disappeared. I found myself missing his presence, and my heart felt unsettled.
In the midst of my thoughts, I was startled by the entrance of Tito Alfred, Tyrone's father. Despite the warm smile he wore, I couldn't ignore the undercurrent of sadness in his eyes. It was obvious that something troubled him.
"Diane," he greeted me kindly, but I could tell there was more to his visit than just casual conversation. There was a heaviness in his tone that mirrored the sadness in his eyes.
"Sir," I replied politely, my curiosity piqued. What brought him to the shop today?
"Can we talk somewhere private?" he asked, and I could sense the seriousness of his request. I nodded, leading him to a quieter corner of the shop. With only a few customers around, we could speak freely.
"What would you like to order?" I asked professionally, trying to break the ice. Despite my hospitality, my mind was still preoccupied with the reason for his visit. Why did he want to talk to me privately?
He ordered a cup of espresso, and I prepared it for him promptly. I was about to excuse myself, but he gestured for me to stay seated.
A mix of emotions surged within me, ranging from curiosity to slight unease.
"I know I owe you an explanation for what my children have done, and I'm deeply sorry for the hurt they caused," he began, taking a sip of his espresso. His words were sincere, and I felt a pang of sympathy for him. It must be difficult for him to witness the consequences of his children's actions.
"Oh? Well, he's not here," I replied, wondering why he was looking for Tyrone in the first place. The situation felt tense, and I was unsure how to navigate through it.
"I know," he replied, and his gaze seemed to pierce through me. "I know you and my son are close. Can you persuade him to come back home?"
His request caught me off guard, and I faltered for a moment. I hadn't expected him to approach me with such a plea. While Tyrone and I were indeed close, I was not in the habit of interfering in his personal decisions. My heart weighed heavy with the responsibility placed upon me.
"I can't make any promises," I responded honestly, trying to find the right words. It wasn't my place to dictate Tyrone's choices, and I didn't want to give false hope.
"I understand that I have no right to meddle, but Tyrone is going through a tough time. He loves all of you, but he's hurting," I explained, gathering my courage to voice my observations. It felt daunting, but I believed honesty was essential.
"I know all that," Tito Alfred sighed, his sadness palpable. "I tried. I love all of them, but I wasn't always there for Tyrone. I want him to experience the privileges of being a Zamora, a life I couldn't provide him with earlier. It's my way of making amends, but my other children don't see it that way."
Our conversation weighed heavily on my heart as I listened to his struggles as a father. It reminded me of the complexities of family dynamics and how, sometimes, love and intentions can be misinterpreted.
"What are you doing here?" Tyrone's voice suddenly broke through the air, and I turned around to see him standing there, his expression tense and guarded.
"Tyrone!" I exclaimed, surprised by his sudden appearance.
"I'm just checking on my son," Tito Alfred replied calmly, trying to explain himself.
"And by doing what? Interfering with my girlfriend?" Tyrone's words held a hint of annoyance, and I felt a mix of emotions surge through me. Did he just refer to me as his girlfriend? It caught me off guard.
"Please go, I do not want you near me," Tyrone's voice trembled with anger as he firmly expressed his feelings to his father. My heart wavered with conflicting emotions, torn between empathy for his father's concern and understanding Tyrone's deep-rooted anger. It was evident that there were unresolved issues between them, and I knew I couldn't intervene in their complicated father-son dynamic.
"I will go for now, but please take care of yourself, son," his father's voice held a mix of regret and longing as he bid farewell. His assistant offered support, and with a respectful bow of acknowledgement, they made their way out of the scene. I watched them depart, feeling a sense of heaviness in the air.
As the dust settled, I turned my attention towards Tyrone, trying to decipher the emotions playing on his face. His eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and turmoil, like a storm raging beneath the surface. Yet, I couldn't help but notice something else lingering in his gaze.
"You just called me your girlfriend," I spoke, my voice quivering with a mix of surprise and curiosity. The words hung in the air, seeking answers to the unspoken questions between us. Tyrone seemed caught off guard, his eyes briefly avoiding mine, but I was determined to understand his intentions.
For a moment, silence enveloped us like a cocoon, allowing the weight of his confession to sink in. I could sense his inner struggle, the battle between his fears and desires. It was a vulnerable moment for both of us, and I wanted to tread carefully, giving him the space, he needed to open.
"Why did you do it?" I gently pressed, hoping to encourage him to share his thoughts. I wanted to bridge the gap between us, to understand the reasons behind his unexpected declaration. Tyrone let out a deep sigh, his guard momentarily dropping as he looked into my eyes. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But in that moment, it felt right. It felt like the truth that I've been hiding for so long."
The sincerity in his words struck a chord within me, and I could feel my own heart racing. This was more than just a passing whim; there was genuine affection in his actions, even if it was cloaked in uncertainty. I wanted to reassure him, to let him know that I cherished his honesty and vulnerability.
"I like you," he confessed softly. "A lot."
His words felt like a whirlwind, and I couldn't believe the reality unfolding before me. I felt overwhelmed with joy and surprise.
"Are you serious?" I asked, needing confirmation.
"When have I ever joked with you, Diane?" Tyrone replied, his eyes locking onto mine, and I knew in that moment that he was being genuine.
"I can't believe you, Ty," I murmured, still trying to process the incredible revelation. It all felt too surreal, like a dream I was afraid to wake up from. I was hesitant to fully embrace the reality of his feelings, fearing that it might all be a jest with a hidden punch line.
"Then I'll court you," he reassured me, determination glinting in his eyes. "But for now, this is what I'll do to prove that I'm serious." And with that, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss on my forehead.
My heart fluttered wildly, and I felt a rush of warmth spread through my body. It was a simple gesture, yet it held so much meaning. His touch was gentle, and the love in his eyes was undeniable. I could no longer deny the truth before me; this was real, and it was happening.
My legs turned to jelly, but I held onto his gaze, finding solace in the sincerity of his words and actions. A mix of emotions washed over me - joy, excitement, and a hint of vulnerability.