Disgrace

Chapter 20: MD as in Malandi?

Katrina

The sun bathed Ypao Beach in a golden glow, casting shimmering reflections across the waves as the scent of grilled pork belly and freshly steamed rice mingled with the salty breeze. Laughter rang through the air, overlapping voices blending with the faint sound of an OPM ballad drifting from a Bluetooth speaker. The picnic tables were packed with relatives, cousins, and family friends, plates piled high with food, chatter bouncing between conversations I was barely listening to. My own plate sat mostly untouched in front of me, the rice clumped together where I'd absently stirred it with my fork.

I had lasted thirty minutes before the exhaustion set in. Thirty minutes of smiling, nodding, and dodging invasive questions from my titas, all while pretending I wasn't thinking about him.

Two days.

It had been two days since I last saw Mason.

Two days since I had told him I was giving Jack a chance. Since I had looked him in the eye and forced myself to say the words—"Whatever happened between us never happened."

The words still sat heavy on my chest, tasting like something bitter and final.

Jack had reached out once, but I hadn't responded. Not because I didn't want to. Not because I didn't think I should. But because every time I thought about calling him back, I saw Mason instead. The way he looked at me in that exam room. The way he felt pressed against me, his hands on my waist, his voice low and full of quiet, stubborn possession.

The way his jaw clenched when I told him I was choosing Jack.

A choice I needed to see through.

Because Mason? Mason was the wrong one. The reckless one. The one who made me forget logic, responsibility, and the very clear lines between what was right and what was dangerous.

He deserved someone in his own league.

And I don't mean that in a I think I'm not sexy or hot enough for him way—because I know I am. I know my worth. But he deserved someone his age, his peers, someone who would enjoy parties with him, who vibed with his music, who lived in the same world he did. Someone who could be reckless with him, who wouldn't think twice about sneaking out of a party at 2 AM to go skinny dipping, who wouldn't feel the weight of reality pressing down every time they looked at him.

Someone who wasn't me.

I exhaled slowly, dragging my fork across my plate, pushing my food around again—just as the inevitable happened.

"So, ano ka na ngayon, divorced or Mrs.?"The words cut through the humid air like a blade.

I barely flinched, keeping my eyes on my plate, my fork idly pushing my food around.  I could feel the weight of Tita Marites' stare pressing against the side of my face, waiting—no, expecting—to see me squirm.

I sighed and finally glanced up, giving her a polite, almost bored smile. "MD po."

Her nose wrinkled. "Huh? MD? As in malandi?"

The table went silent.

Someone sucked in a breath. A cousin coughed into their drink.

I chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about it. You know, if this was any other day, I would've had more grace for this old hag. More patience. More restraint. But today?

Today, she fucked with me on the wrong day.

"Ah, Tita, yes. Malandi ako."

Silence fell—sharp, suffocating, deliciously uncomfortable.