The Unbroken But Impure

CHAPTER 01 CROWNED AND UNTOUCHED

The golden crown still felt warm against her head. The spotlights of the Malolos City Convention Center had dimmed hours ago, but the memory of the crowd's cheers still rang in her ears. Her sequined gown shimmered under the streetlamps as she walked arm in arm with her parents toward their car.

"You made us so proud, Mae," her father said, beaming. "You're now Miss Bulacan, my daughter!"

Her mother, eyes glistening, squeezed Mae's hand. "You didn't just win because you're beautiful, Mae. You answered every question like you've been trained for this all your life. Beauty and brains, no one can beat that."

Mae smiled, though her heart raced for reasons she couldn't name. She'd dreamed of this moment for years, yet it felt like only a small piece of the future she longed for. Winning the crown was sweet, but in her heart, another dream burned brighter: to marry a man who would love her as deeply as she would love him.

Her friends swarmed her outside the venue, still giddy from the after-party.

"You nailed it, Mae!" giggled Jenny, her best friend since grade school. "You didn't just win, you destroyed the competition. The guys in town are probably plotting how to propose already."

Another friend chimed in, "Your future husband is the luckiest man alive!"

Mae laughed but said nothing. She had no boyfriend. No first love. No real kiss. Just daydreams of walking down an aisle, vowing loyalty, building a home. She'd promised herself that when she met him, the man meant for her, she would love him with honesty, devotion, and kindness until her last breath.

The first rays of sunlight spilled across Baliwag's quiet streets, bathing them in warm gold the next morning. The scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery drifted through the air, mixing with the faint aroma of brewed coffee from the small restaurant on the corner, Mae's family's place, La Mesa de Amor.

Mae moved quickly between the tables, balancing a tray of steaming tapsilog plates. Her black hair, tied neatly in a ponytail, swayed as she walked. She'd been awake since four a.m., helping her parents prepare breakfast for their regulars before school.

Her father worked the grill, his movements sharp yet fluid, each sizzle of meat echoing like a heartbeat in the kitchen. Her mother stood beside him, plating dishes with delicate precision. Even in the chaos of the morning rush, they shared small smiles, gentle touches, and wordless glances like two dancers who'd rehearsed their steps for years.

Mae loved watching them. The way her father always refilled her mother's coffee before she even asked. The way her mother adjusted his apron when it slipped from his shoulder. The love between them was quiet but unshakable, like the roots of a century-old tree.

As she cleared a table, Mae caught her mother's soft laughter and her father's playful wink. She couldn't help but smile. That's the kind of love I want one day, she thought. Not the flashy, fleeting kind she saw in movies. Something steady. Something real.

By 7:15 a.m., the rush was over. Mae kissed both her parents on the cheek, grabbed her bag, and dashed out to her volleyball practice. Her mother's voice followed her through the door.

"Take care, Mae!" her father called out.

The next day.....

Mae sat at the kitchen table, sipping hot chocolate while her mother bustled about preparing breakfast. The crown from the other night still sat on the living room shelf, gleaming like a beacon of her triumph.

"You have interviews today, Mae," her mother reminded her, sliding a plate of freshly baked pandesal in front of her. "The local radio station at ten, then the mayor's luncheon at noon. Don't be late."

"Yes, Ma." Mae's voice was cheerful, but inside, her thoughts drifted elsewhere. Interviews, speeches, charity events — these were part of her role now as Miss Bulacan. But what she really wondered was when her personal fairy tale would begin.

Her phone buzzed. It was a message from Jenny. "Morning, Queen! Any suitors lined up yet?"

Mae smiled faintly before typing back. 'You know I'm still waiting for my prince!'

In her heart, she imagined him, tall, kind, strong, and unshakably loyal.

Later....

The mayor's mansion buzzed with activity. Reporters crowded the gates while socialites glided in with their perfumed air-kisses and rehearsed laughter. Mae sat at a long table beside other local winners, smiling graciously as flashes from cameras lit her face.

Later that week, Mae was backstage at a charity event, slipping into a flowing lavender gown when Liza barged in with a box of fried chicken.

"Liza!" Mae hissed. "I'm in my gown! That smell will stick to the fabric."

Liza grinned, her mouth already full. "Beauty queens need protein too. Besides, imagine winning Miss Universe and saying your diet secret was crispy pata."

Mae burst into laughter, nearly spilling her makeup pouch. "You're impossible."

Liza's expression softened. "No, Mae. You're impossible. You think you're some kind of Supergirl."

Mae blinked. "Supergirl?"

Liza winked. "Because nothing can get through to you. You're... impenetrable."

Mae's cheeks burned. "Don't say it like that."

Another girl overheard. "Why Supergirl?" she asked curiously.

Liza quickly covered, smiling. "Because she's pretty, of course. And strong. Right, Mae?"

Mae forced a smile, but inside, she knew Jenny meant more. Her innocence. Her resistance to temptations that so many others gave in to. It was a secret joke between them, but sometimes Mae wondered if being Supergirl made her admirable... or lonely.

That night, Mae and Liza sat on the balcony of the boarding house, legs tucked beneath them, the distant sounds of traffic humming below.

Jenny nudged her. "By the way, I'll see you at the Ravermaya concert. And who knows? Maybe we'll meet some guys there. Don't be so stiff, Mae. Just go little by little."

Mae blushed furiously, hugging her knees. "You know I'm not like that."

Jenny laughed, leaning back against the rail. "Maybe not. But maybe it's time you stop waiting for Prince Charming to ride in on a white horse. Sometimes, Mae, he's just a guitarist with messy hair and a bad habit of being late."

Mae pretended to scowl, but her heart fluttered at the thought.