Onyx's POV
"Have you forgotten already?" he snapped. "You cut off my credit card!"
I grabbed another shirt, fingers tightening around the damp fabric.
"Fine! I can live on my own. I won't come back to your stupid house! I'll find my own money!"
My gaze dropped to the ground.
"Don't expect me to show up even if you reinstate my card!" he shouted. "Go enjoy your woman. Disown me. Have a new child with her. Whatever."
The sky rumbled again.
Then—
"Fuck!"
The word tore through the air.
Silence followed.
The call must have ended.
Because no matter how angry I was at my own parents, I would never dare say something like that.
I stood there, laundry in my hands, thunder rolling above us.
And for the first time that night—
I stopped being annoyed.
I kept pulling clothes off the line, one by one, the fabric still holding the fresh smell of the detergent. The night air was cool now, brushing against my skin.
Behind me, I heard his voice again.
"Hello, Sam. Are you busy?" he asked.
Ah. So it was that bossy-looking girl.
Of course.
Maybe she was the one he ran to whenever things went wrong. I still believed she was his girlfriend. They probably just had some mutual agreement not to label it. Rich people and their complicated definitions.
I continued gathering the clothes, pretending not to listen.
"Dad and I fought again," he said. "He thinks he can control my life. I'm fucking twenty-three already, Sam. I have my own mind. I'm not a teenager anymore."
His voice wasn't loud—but it was tight. Like something pulled too hard.
I sighed quietly and shook my head, folding a shirt with more force than necessary.
"He's trying to force me to get close to his new woman. That's never going to happen. You know Mom can't be replaced by a stranger," he continued. "Yeah. And he wants me to come home tomorrow for a dinner with her. He said he'll reinstate my card if I go."
I paused mid-fold.
Reinstate his card.
Why wouldn't he just go? He didn't have to smile. He didn't have to be emotionally present. He could sit there, eat, nod, leave. That was it. Problem solved. If I were him, I'd do that.
It sounded simple.
So why did his voice sound like he was choosing between pride and oxygen?
"No. I won't do that," he said firmly. "I'd rather sleep on the street than sleep in the same house as both of them."
The words hit something sharp inside me.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm at Boss's house. Luckily, his dad treats me well. I'll just stay here for the night, then I'll find somewhere else to stay. I don't want to abuse their kindness."
My fingers stilled.
Boss' house.
That was... my house.
I lifted my eyes toward the sky instead of turning around. The stars blurred slightly because the clouds forming overhead.
"I still have some money left. I just sold my watch. I might sell my car soon if it gets worse," he said. "He blocked my card because I took five hundred thousand pesos from him without his approval. Of course he got mad."
Five hundred thousand.
The shirt I was holding on to slipped from my hands.
That five hundred thousand.
That was the money he used to pay off Pa's debt from the loan sharks.
The air felt thinner.
So because of that... because of us... his father punished him.
I swallowed.
Why didn't he tell me?
"I paid off Boss's father's debt. What else was I supposed to do?" Jace said. "I was just having a good breakfast, then some idiot showed up and ruined my morning. I had to do something."
I shook my head slowly.
"Yeah, they'll pay me back eventually. I'm not worried about that. I just don't want to pressure them right now." He let out a quiet breath. "And no, I'm not borrowing money from you or anyone else. I might have to sell my car. Well, maybe if that's the last resort."
There was a pause before he continued.
"It's fine. I've got it handled. I found a job. It's enough to survive without my dad's support. I've already been working there for two days."
Two days.
That was why he had been absent and he didn't want to tell me the reason.
That was the "thing" that made him busy.
"Don't worry. It's legal," he added quickly. "I'm not getting into trouble. And no, I'm not telling you where I work. You and the others will definitely show up and tease me. I'm only telling you because I know I can count on you when I feel bad."
My grip tightened around the clothes in my arms.
Only telling her.
Of course.
"If I can't find a place tomorrow, I'll stay at your unit first," he said. "I'll sleep on the couch. I'm fine with that. Then maybe Howard's place, then Lloyd's. I really want to stay here—at Boss' house—but I feel like that guy already hates me for pushing myself into his space. I don't want to upset him more. He might remove my name from our Capstone Project if he wants to. What then? Another delayed graduation?" he added, laughing lightly.
The laugh sounded forced.
My hands clenched around the fabric so hard it wrinkled.
Hates him? Remove his name?
Does he really think I would do that? I am actually working hard to finish this because I know I owe him this project.
"No, lunatic," he said into the phone. "He's a nice guy. Just a bit awkward most of the time. I just met him not long ago." He added, laughing again. "So are you saying I'm the one who's going to ruin his life?"
This time, the laugh was softer. More natural.
I hated that I felt relieved hearing it.
"Okay. Bye. Sleep well. Thanks for answering my call. I feel a bit better now," he said.
Silence followed.
For a few seconds, there was nothing but the faint rustle of the trees and the distant chirping of crickets.
Then he spoke again.
"Hello, I'll come to work tomorrow," he said, his tone shifting—more formal now. "Though I might be a little late. I have a class in the morning. It's roughly two hours. I've already been absent twice and it might affect my grade."
He paused.
"Yes. I'm really sorry. Is it possible to adjust my schedule? It would help a lot so I don't have to worry about being late."
I stood there, unmoving, the clothes heavy in my arms.
He was negotiating work hours.
For class.
For a project I was part of.
For a life that had just been cut off from comfort because he chose to help us.
And suddenly, the night felt much louder than before.
"Thank you. Don't worry, I'll be there tomorrow. Good night," Jace said.
The call ended.
A few seconds later, I saw him step out from the back of our house, his silhouette cutting through the faint glow of the porch light. The sky had darkened fully now, clouds rolling in like a quiet threat of rain. He did not see me standing by the laundry line; the shadows kept me out of sight. He slipped inside as if nothing in the world weighed on him.
As if he had not just admitted he might sell his car to survive.
As if he had not just planned where to sleep like a nomad.
* * *
When I entered my room, he was already there.
Lying on my bed.
Hands tucked behind his head, his long frame stretched out comfortably, he stared at my ceiling. He must have been thinking too much about what was going to happen to him in the coming days.
He turned his head when he heard me and smirked.
"Where did you go, Boss?" he asked, calm and confident.
Too calm.
If someone did not know him well, they would never notice the crack beneath that composure. He wore confidence the way some people wore perfume—strong, deliberate, meant to distract.
I walked toward my study desk, my steps measured, neutral. I refused to look at him longer than necessary.
"I went outside to bring in the laundry Pa asked me to take down," I said, opening my laptop as if it were the most important thing in my life. "It's going to rain soon."
"Ah." He shifted slightly on the bed. "Did you hear me talking to someone on the phone?"
For a split second, my hand froze over the keyboard.
Then I shook my head.
"No," I said evenly. "All I could hear were the crickets. They were deafening."
"I see," he said.
Silence settled between us, thick but not suffocating. The faint hum of my laptop filled the space.
I wanted to say it.
I wanted to ask him why he did not tell me.
Why he used his father's money to pay off Pa's debt.
Why he let himself be cut off and thrown out of his own comfort like it was nothing.
But I did not know where to begin.
And if he truly wanted to tell me, he would have.
He was not the type to hesitate. He said what he liked. He said what he hated. He fought loudly. He laughed loudly. He lived loudly.
But tonight, he hid quietly.
Which meant he was not ready.
Or maybe he simply didn't trust me enough yet. Yes... that was probably the answer.
"By the way, Boss," he said casually, as if discussing the weather, "so I won't bother you and Pa too much, I'll just sleep here tonight. Then I'll go back to my house tomorrow."
Liar.
He had no intention of going back.
He would rotate between friends. Couch to couch. Pride intact. Wallet thinning.
I stared at my laptop screen, but I saw nothing.
"Boss, did you hear what I said?" he asked again.
I flinched slightly and looked at him.
"I said I'll go back home tomorrow," he repeated.
I swallowed before speaking.
He was smiling at me again—that same grin that told the world he was fine.
But I knew.
"No," I said.
He blinked.
"Huh? What do you mean 'no'?"
"No need to worry about bothering me or Pa," I said steadily. "You can stay here at our house."
His expression changed.
Just slightly.
Brows drawing together. Lips parting, as if he were unsure whether I was serious or mocking him.
"You can stay here twenty-four seven," I added, closing my eyes briefly as I exhaled.
There.
It was out.
The room went very still.
For the first time since I walked in, he did not have a quick answer. He did not smirk. He did not tease.
He just looked at me.
And for a moment—just a moment—his confident mask slipped.
End of Chapter 21