Us, As Usual
By six forty-three, Mara had read the same paragraph five times and understood it less with every attempt.
She pushed her glasses higher on her nose and tried again.
Pedestrian access along the eastern frontage will improve connectivity between the mixed-use development and existing public transport routes.
Behind her, a cupboard slammed, followed by another, then the scrape of a drawer being pulled open. Mara kept her eyes on the laptop for a few more seconds before finally giving in.
“Elias.”
No answer came from the kitchen. Instead, another cupboard opened.
“Elias.”
“I’m looking for something,” he replied.
“I gathered that.”
“Then why are you asking?”
Mara turned in her chair. Elias stood barefoot in the kitchen with one hand planted on his hip and a wooden spoon in the other. He wore an old black shirt, gray shorts, and the expression of a man who had been personally betrayed by cabinetry.
“What did you lose?” Mara asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re opening every door in the kitchen.”
“I’m familiarizing myself with the inventory.”
She stared at him until he finally surrendered.
“The black pepper.”
Mara lifted one hand and pointed.
Elias followed her finger to the pepper grinder standing beside the salt, directly in front of him. He looked at it for a moment, then picked it up with as much dignity as he could salvage.
“Interesting.”
Mara turned back to her laptop. “Say thank you.”
“I was going to.”
“You were going to pretend you found it yourself.”
“I did find it.”
“I pointed at it.”
“After I narrowed down the search area.”
“To the kitchen?”
“Exactly.”
Mara heard him grind pepper into the pan. The sound went on long enough that she frowned at her screen.
“That’s enough.”
“You aren’t even looking.”
“I can hear it.”
“You can hear pepper?”
“I can hear you making bad decisions.”
“That’s a gift.”
“I’ve had years of training.”
The smell of garlic and butter had been drifting through the condo for the past ten minutes, distracting enough that Mara had started becoming suspicious. Elias was a perfectly competent cook when he followed instructions. Unfortunately, he regarded recipes as suggestions written by cowards.
She tried the paragraph again, but something hit the floor behind her.
Mara stopped typing.
Neither of them spoke.
Slowly, she turned around.
Elias was staring down at a ceramic measuring cup near his bare foot. The handle had broken cleanly off.
Mara looked at the cup, then at him.
He lifted the wooden spoon slightly. “Before you say anything, that was already chipped.”
“Interesting.”
“It was.”
“When?”
“Recently.”
“Before or after gravity became involved?”
“Mara.”
“That’s my measuring cup.”
“Our measuring cup.”
“You have never measured anything.”
Elias looked offended. “That is a disgusting accusation.”
“You poured soy sauce directly from the bottle yesterday.”
“I measured with my heart.”
“Your heart gave us hypertension.”
“It tasted good.”
“It tasted like the West Philippine Sea.”
Elias pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. Mara watched the fight happen on his face until he finally lost.
“Okay,” he conceded. “That was decent.”
“Decent?”
“Six and a half.”
“You’re the one who broke my cup.”
“Which means I’m emotionally compromised. Six and a half is generous.”
Mara leaned back in her chair. “You’re buying me another one.”
“I’ll buy you a whole set.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll use that as permission to break the remaining three.”
“That’s not how gifts work.”
“That’s exactly how you work.”
Elias crouched to collect the pieces with his bare hand.
“Don’t,” Mara warned.
He paused. “Don’t what?”
“Pick up broken ceramic with your fingers.”
“I’m twenty-seven.”
“Congratulations.”
“I know how to pick things up.”
“You also knew where the pepper was.”
Elias glanced toward the grinder. “That was different.”
“Use the dustpan.”
“It’s two pieces.”
“Use the dustpan.”
He sighed as if she had assigned him hard labor. “This household is oppressive.”
Mara pointed toward the utility cabinet. “Top shelf.”
“I know where the dustpan is.”
“You didn’t know where the pepper was.”
“I need you to stop weaponizing that.”
He disappeared around the corner, and Mara allowed herself a smile before turning back to her laptop.
Their condo was not large enough for either of them to have meaningful privacy unless someone locked a door. The dining table where Mara worked sat only a few steps from the kitchen. Behind her was the living area with the sofa they had spent three weekends choosing, the coffee table Elias had selected in seven minutes, and the television mounted slightly crooked because he had refused to admit halfway through installation that he needed help.
Mara had pointed out the angle once. Elias had claimed the wall was crooked. She had pointed out that the wall was concrete. He had accused the building of structural dishonesty.
Two years later, the television was still crooked.
Near the window, a framed print leaned against the wall beside a boxed drill. The drill had been purchased specifically to hang the print. The print had been waiting for fourteen months.
Mara no longer asked about either of them.
Outside the glass, Mandaluyong had settled into the evening beneath a haze of city light. From twenty-one floors up, traffic was more visible than audible, red brake lights threading slowly between buildings below. Inside, the air-conditioner murmured steadily from the living room. Somewhere beyond their front door, an elevator chimed, followed by muffled voices that disappeared behind another closing door.
Elias returned with the dustpan.
“Happy?”
“Immensely.”
“You know, most fiancées would be concerned about my emotional well-being after an accident.”
“Most fiancés would apologize for breaking things.”
“I did apologize.”
“When?”
“Internally.”
“Useful.”
“I meant it.”
“Even more useful.”
He crouched again, and Mara watched him sweep up the ceramic pieces.
“Don’t sweep it under the refrigerator.”
Elias looked up. “I wasn’t going to.”
“You considered it.”
“I considered the physics.”
“You considered never telling me.”
“I tell you everything.”
Mara made a skeptical sound.
Elias pointed the dustpan at her. “Name one secret.”
“You ate the cheesecake Tessa brought over and blamed Adrian.”
“He had means, motive, and access.”
“He wasn’t here.”
“A strong alibi. Suspiciously strong.”
“He was in Quezon City.”
“Exactly what someone who ate the cheesecake would want you to believe.”
Mara laughed under her breath.
Elias smiled immediately. “There.”
“What?”
“You laughed.”
“I exhaled.”
“Through a smile.”
“Finish cleaning.”
“You think being bossy is attractive because I proposed to you.”
“You proposed to me because I’m attractive when I’m bossy.”
He stopped sweeping.
Mara looked over her shoulder and found him staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
Elias smiled slowly. “Nothing. I just enjoy when you accidentally flirt with me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I stated a fact.”
“Even hotter.”
Mara rolled her eyes and faced her laptop again, although she could feel warmth rising into her cheeks.
“You are deeply embarrassing.”
“And yet.”
“And yet what?”
Elias stood and tossed the ceramic pieces into the bin. “Still marrying me.”
Mara lifted her left hand without looking back. The diamond on her ring caught the light above the table.
“This only proves you caught me during a period of questionable judgment.”
“You cried when I proposed.”
“There was wind.”
“Both eyes?”
“It was an aggressive wind.”
Elias came around the kitchen counter carrying the dustpan. “You were holding my face.”
“I was stabilizing myself.”
“You kissed me.”
“CPR.”
“For that long?”
“You were extremely unwell.”
“Eleven minutes of CPR with tongue?”
Mara looked up sharply. “Elias Navarro.”
“What?”
“Your mother raised you better than this.”
“She’d be delighted you remember my full name.”
“She uses it every time you disappoint her.”
“Which is how I know it’s said with love.”
He walked past Mara toward the utility cabinet and let his fingertips skim lightly over the back of her neck as he went. It was barely a touch, but Mara’s shoulders rose instinctively.
Elias noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His steps stopped behind her.
“Don’t,” Mara warned.
His voice came from directly behind her. “Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re thinking.”
“I’m putting away the dustpan.”
“You’re standing behind me.”
“I live here.”
“You have an entire condo.”
“I paid half the rent. I intend to use all of it.”
His fingertips brushed the side of her neck again. Mara slapped a hand over the spot and spun in her chair.
“Elias.”
He was already smiling.
“No.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You know I hate that.”
“You don’t hate it.”
“I do.”
“You make a very specific face when you hate something.”
“And what face is that?”
He considered the question. “Like you’re mentally drafting an email.”
“That’s just my face around you.”
“No. Around me, you have this.”
He leaned down and squinted at her in a terrible imitation of her expression. Mara stared at him while he exaggerated it further, then reached up and pushed his forehead away.
“Go cook.”
Elias caught her wrist before she could pull her hand back. His grip was loose, more playful than restraining, and his thumb rested against the inside of her wrist for half a second before he kissed the center of her palm.
Mara immediately yanked her hand away.
“Manipulative.”
“Effective.”
“Your chicken is burning.”
His head snapped toward the stove.
Mara burst out laughing.
Elias froze.
She laughed harder.
“You liar.”
“Your face.”
“You are horrible.”
“You should’ve seen your face.”
“I hope your laptop dies.”
“Too far.”
“I hope you forgot to save.”
Mara’s laughter stopped instantly, and she turned toward her laptop.
Elias pointed at her triumphantly. “Got you.”
“I hate you.”
“Noted.”
“I mean it.”
“Left eyebrow.”
Mara frowned. “What?”
“Your left eyebrow moved.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It moves when you lie.”
“It does not.”
“It absolutely does.”
Mara covered her left eyebrow with two fingers.
Elias laughed. “Why are you covering it?”
“Because you’re stupid.”
“Lie again.”
“No.”
“Tell me my cooking is terrible.”
“Your cooking is terrible.”
“There.”
Mara stared at him. “Nothing moved.”
“It twitched.”
“You’re inventing this.”
“Tell me you don’t find me attractive.”
Mara narrowed her eyes.
Elias leaned against the back of her chair. “Go ahead.”
“I don’t find you attractive.”
He watched her face.
Mara kept it perfectly still.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Hm.”
“What?”
“Say it again.”
“I don’t find you attractive.”
Elias leaned closer.
Mara didn’t move.
“Look at me when you say it,” he murmured.
She did.
His face was close enough that she could see the tiny pale scar near his chin from an accident involving a bicycle, a wet road, and a version of nineteen-year-old Elias who had believed brakes were optional.
Mara looked directly into his eyes.
“I don’t find you attractive.”
Elias waited, then smiled.
“Your eyebrow didn’t move.”
“Thank you.”
“Which means apparently you aren’t lying.”
“Correct.”
“That’s devastating.”
“You’ll recover.”
“I’m not sure I will.”
“Would you like me to call someone?”
“My fiancée, preferably.”
“She’s busy.”
“With what?”
“Regretting things.”
Elias’s smile changed, becoming smaller.
“Wow.”
Mara’s own smile gave her away.
He pointed at her. “There. That one.”
“What one?”
“That’s your guilty face.”
“I don’t have a guilty face.”
“You absolutely do.”
“You’ve invented an entire facial diagnostic system.”
“I’ve had eight years of data.”
“Eight years of stalking.”
“Research.”
“Poorly funded, apparently.”
Elias straightened. “Speaking of funding, should I be worried that you’ve taken over ninety percent of this table?”
Mara glanced down at the laptop, printed site plans, tracing paper, pens, unopened electricity bill, Elias’s camera battery, two coffee receipts, and a small bowl holding calamansi.
“Your camera battery is here.”
“That’s one item.”
“The receipts are yours.”
“Shared economy.”
“The calamansi?”
“Neutral territory.”
“You bought them.”
“You asked me to.”
“I asked you to buy three.”
“They came in a bag.”
“There are four.”
“I ate some.”
Mara paused. “You ate a calamansi?”
Elias stopped.
She stared at him.
He stared back.
“Not by itself.”
“You just said you ate some.”
“In context.”
“What context requires eating raw calamansi?”
“A complicated one.”
“Elias.”
“Focus on your work.”
“No. Explain.”
“I don’t interrogate you about everything you put in your mouth.”
Mara stared at him.
Elias’s expression changed immediately.
He pointed at her. “No.”
Her lips twitched.
“Don’t.”
She covered her mouth.
“Mara.”
That made it worse. She bent over the table laughing.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Elias protested.
“I know.”
“You’re twelve.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
Mara wiped beneath one eye. “That was your own fault.”
“You’re an architect.”
“Urban designer.”
“Whatever. You’re supposed to have maturity.”
“That’s not in the job description.”
Elias returned to the stove muttering something about standards, while Mara watched him go with a grin still lingering on her face.
Her phone vibrated beside the laptop. Once, twice, then three times in rapid succession.
Elias looked over immediately. “If that’s Tessa, don’t open it.”
Mara glanced at the screen. “It is.”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if you respond, she’ll know you’re available.”
“She knows I’m available.”
“No. She knows you’re alive. Those are different things.”
Mara unlocked her phone.
Elias made a wounded sound. “Why would you do that?”
“I’m not afraid of Tessa.”
“You should be. Adrian is.”
“He chose to marry her.”
“Exactly. Questionable judgment.”
Mara opened the wedding group chat and blinked at the thirty-seven unread messages.
“Oh.”
Elias glanced toward her. “How bad?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“Close it.”
“I’m curious now.”
“Curiosity killed the maid of honor.”
“I don’t think that’s the expression.”
“It is during wedding planning.”
Mara scrolled past table settings, flower arrangements, chair covers, a photograph of two ribbons that looked identical, screenshots from three suppliers, four consecutive voice messages, and finally a poll titled IVORY OR CHAMPAGNE? DO NOT SAY THEY LOOK THE SAME.
Mara snorted.
“What?” Elias asked.
She turned the screen away. “No.”
“Show me.”
“You told me not to open it.”
“That was before there was content.”
“You made your choice.”
“I withdraw it.”
“Actions have consequences.”
Elias turned down the stove.
Mara noticed immediately. “No.”
“What?”
“Stay there.”
“I’m cooking.”
“You just lowered the heat.”
“For culinary reasons.”
“You’re coming over here.”
“I’m checking on my fiancée.”
“Your fiancée is fine.”
“She has thirty-seven messages from Tessa. She is clearly in danger.”
He came around the counter while Mara pressed the phone against her chest.
“Elias.”
“Show me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I enjoy having something you don’t.”
“That’s unhealthy for a marriage.”
“Good thing we haven’t picked a date.”
He stopped beside her chair.
“Low.”
“Truthful.”
“Show me the messages.”
“Go away.”
“I can make you.”
Mara looked up slowly. “If you tickle me, this engagement ends tonight.”
Elias folded his arms. “That’s incredibly manipulative.”
“I’m establishing boundaries.”
“With threats.”
“Effective boundaries.”
“You stole that from me.”
Mara smiled sweetly. “Shared economy.”
He stared at her.
She stared back.
Then Elias reached.
Mara squealed and twisted away, nearly rolling the chair into the wall.
“Elias!”
“Phone.”
“Get off!”
“One screenshot.”
“You’re deranged.”
“One.”
“Your food!”
“Nice try.”
Mara shoved at his shoulder with one hand while stretching the phone as far away as possible with the other. Elias tried to catch her wrist, she ducked, and the chair rolled backward just as one of her printed plans began sliding toward the edge of the table.
Both of them saw it.
“Wait!” Mara exclaimed.
“I’ve got it.”
Elias caught the sheet before it hit the floor. Another page followed, and Mara grabbed that one herself.
They froze for a moment.
Mara looked at the papers, then at him. “This is why I can’t work when you’re home.”
Elias handed her the sheet. “You work when I’m home every day.”
“Against tremendous adversity.”
“You flourish under pressure.”
“I developed anxiety.”
“You had that before me.”
“You’re responsible for maintenance.”
He leaned over her shoulder to inspect the plan.
“What am I looking at?”
“Nothing.”
“Looks expensive.”
“It’s a circulation plan.”
“I circulate.”
“Mostly between the kitchen and the couch.”
“Efficient circulation.”
“Give me that.”
Elias held the paper slightly higher.
Mara reached for it.
He raised it again.
Her eyes narrowed. “Elias.”
“Yes, love?”
“Give me my plan.”
“What do I get?”
“You get to continue living here.”
“Tempting.”
“Elias.”
He grinned and lowered it. Mara snatched the plan from his hand.
“Child.”
“Fiancé.”
“Temporary title.”
“Excuse me?”
Mara looked up innocently. “I said temperamental.”
“You absolutely did not.”
“Your hearing’s going.”
“I’m twenty-seven.”
“Hard years.”
Elias stared at her for a moment before bending down and kissing her.
It was quick, barely more than a press of his mouth against hers. Mara blinked when he pulled away.
“What was that for?”
“You’re annoying.”
“That’s your response?”
“Historically.”
Mara caught the front of his shirt before he could straighten. Elias looked down at her hand, and she pulled him back and kissed him properly.
When she released him, he stayed close.
“There,” Mara said. “Now go save dinner.”
Elias smiled. “Your eyebrow moved.”
She shoved him away. “Go.”
He laughed all the way back to the kitchen.
Mara watched him for another second before returning to her laptop. Her mouth still felt warm when she picked up her pen.
“By the way,” Elias called from the stove, “Tessa asked me this morning if we’ve started looking at venues.”
Mara frowned at her screen. “Why would she ask you?”
“Because I’m approachable.”
“You’re easy to manipulate.”
“Same skill set.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That we’re waiting until after their wedding.”
Mara looked over.
Elias was stirring the pan, casual and unconcerned.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Because we are.”
Her fingers paused against the keyboard.
Elias tasted the sauce, frowned at it, then added something.
“What?” he asked when he noticed her silence.
“Nothing.”
“Was that wrong?”
“No.”
“We said we’d wait.”
“I know.”
“Because if we start planning now, Tessa will turn it into a competition and neither of us will survive.”
That pulled a small laugh from Mara.
Elias pointed his spoon toward her. “See? You know I’m right.”
“Don’t point food at me.”
“Come taste this.”
“I’m working.”
“I need a second opinion.”
“You don’t listen to my first opinion.”
“This is different.”
“How?”
“There’s cream involved.”
Mara sighed and pushed her chair back. Elias held out the spoon as she approached.
She stopped in front of him. “Blow on it.”
He stared at her. “You’re an adult.”
“It’s hot.”
“So blow on it.”
“You’re holding it.”
“That’s not how responsibility works.”
Mara folded her arms.
Elias sighed. “You’re spoiled.”
“Engaged.”
“Apparently synonyms.”
He blew gently over the spoon, and Mara leaned forward to taste it.
Elias watched her expression carefully. “Well?”
Mara swallowed. “Needs salt.”
His face fell. “You’re lying.”
“It does.”
“I added salt.”
“Clearly not enough.”
“You said yesterday I was trying to kill you with sodium.”
“Yesterday was yesterday.”
“What happened to your commitment to cardiovascular health?”
“I’ve reconsidered.”
Elias narrowed his eyes before tasting the sauce himself. After a brief pause, he added salt.
Mara smiled. “Thank you.”
“Don’t look so pleased.”
“I was right.”
“You live for very small victories.”
“I live with you. I take what I can get.”
She turned to return to her table, but Elias caught her around the waist from behind and pulled her back against him.
Mara laughed. “Take it back.”
“No.”
“Take it back.”
“Never.”
“Mara.”
“Elias.”
He pressed his face into the side of her neck, his stubble scratching her skin.
“Stop!”
“Apologize.”
“For what?”
“For character assassination.”
“I need a character first.”
Elias tightened his arms while Mara laughed harder.
“Fine! Fine.”
“Say it.”
“You’re incredibly mature.”
“Lie.”
“Handsome.”
“True.”
“Modest.”
“Also true.”
“Talented.”
“Keep going.”
“Needy.”
He released her immediately.
“Uncalled for.”
Mara turned around, smiling at his offended expression. She reached up and straightened the collar of his shirt, which had folded under itself. The gesture was automatic, and neither of them commented on it.
“Your sauce is going to burn,” she told him.
His eyes stayed on her face for another second before he glanced toward the stove.
“You’re obsessed with destroying my confidence.”
“You’ll rebuild.”
“With time.”
“Maybe therapy.”
“Expensive.”
“Then suffer.”
“Supportive fiancée.”
“The best.”
Elias kissed her forehead before returning to the pan.
Mara went back to the dining table. This time, when she sat down, Elias lowered the music without being asked.
She noticed.
She always noticed.
She did not thank him because he would make it unbearable.
For several minutes, the condo settled into the quiet they had learned to share. The air-conditioner hummed, the refrigerator compressor clicked on, and a faint rush of water moved somewhere through the building’s plumbing while Elias chopped something against the cutting board. Mara’s fingers moved steadily over the keyboard.
Her engagement ring clicked softly against her water glass when she reached for it.
She drank without looking at her hand, put the glass down, and kept working until a small notification appeared in the corner of her laptop screen.
An email.
Mara’s attention shifted automatically.
She read the sender’s name, and her fingers stopped above the keyboard.
The smile left her face.
