The Engineer (Batchelor Series #2)

9

Bumalik ako. His smirked is the evident that he never been guilty. My grip tightened on Renz’s collar as my temper flared.

"Paano ako? At kung ako nga ang problema mo, bakit pati ibang tao dinadamay mo? Tangina ka ba?” I spat the words, furious. Around us, the remaining students in the oval circled, watching like vultures ready to witness a fight.

“Walang mag-aawat?” I muttered under my breath, glancing around. They were really just going to let this happen? One of them laughed and shouted, “Wag niyo awatin! Ang manalo sa sapakan nila, ‘yon ang i-boto nating president!”

"Mga tarantado," I thought, holding Renz tighter, ready to strike.

Renz’s face was red with anger, but there was something in his eyes—confusion, maybe even hurt. “Why do you act cold towards me? Did I do something wrong? Putangina, I’m not even aware of what I did.” His voice was louder now, raw. He wasn’t hiding anymore.

I almost laughed in disbelief. “Di ka aware?” My voice shook, matching his intensity. “Di ka AWARE na gago ka? Na babaero ka? Na andaming babae ang naloko mo gamit yang mukha mo, pero sa loob, gago ka pa rin. And now you want to run as President? Tangina, anyone who votes for you is just as bobo as you are.”

The words spilled out of me, each one hitting harder than the last. I could see it in his face—the way his expression shifted, his shoulders sagging under the weight of my words. And then, a silence fell over the oval, heavy and uncomfortable.

I shoved him away, my hand releasing his collar as if it had burned me. I was angry, yes, but guilt crept in too. I had gone too far.

Renz’s eyes were bloodshot now, and his voice dropped. “Yeah, Drakon… Sino nga ba boboto sa akin?” He paused, his gaze distant. “Ayaw sa akin ni Mama kasi bobo ako. Ayaw sa akin ni Daddy kasi mas mahalaga sa akin ang basketball kaysa pag-aaral. Pero tangina, sa ‘yo ko pa maririnig na wala akong patutunguhan?” His voice cracked, and for a second, he looked like a lost kid. “Tinuring kitang kaibigan, tol.”

His words hit harder than any punch could have. I stared at him, unsure of what to say, watching as he turned and walked away without looking back.

Fei appeared at my side, breathless from running. “Nag-away kayo ni Renz?” Her tone was concerned. “Nakasalubong ko siya, umiiyak. Ano nangyari?” She barely paused before continuing, “Oh, by the way, okay na si Kazier. We took him to the clinic, and he’s fine. Just a little shaken up. His mom picked him up.”

I nodded absentmindedly, not fully registering her words. My mind was stuck on Renz’s retreating figure. I had hurt him deeply, more than I intended. Sure, he was a jerk—babaero, even—but he didn’t deserve that level of attack. Shit.

For the next few days, Renz avoided me. And why wouldn’t he? Every time our paths crossed, he barely acknowledged my existence—just a cold nod or a quick glance before turning away. Alam kong mali ako, pero paano ko nga babawiin ang lahat ng sinabi ko? His rejection stung, even more than I wanted to admit.

“Renz, can we talk?” I asked him one afternoon, my voice softer this time.

“Busy ako.” He didn’t even look at me when he said it.

The coldness in his voice hit me harder than I expected. It felt like I was walking on eggshells around him, unsure of what would set him off. Every day, I replayed our confrontation in my head, wondering how things had gone so wrong.

But the truth was clear. He didn’t want me around anymore. It was over. Eto naman ang gusto ko eh. To get out of him.

At first, I kept trying—trying to talk to him, trying to make him laugh, trying to fix what I had broken. But each attempt was met with indifference, and slowly, I stopped. I stopped hoping that things could go back to how they were. I let go.

Instead, I focused on myself. Joined a club. Started taking art classes and photography. The campaign period for the Student Council election began, and that gave me something to pour my energy into. At least now, I had a purpose, a goal. Renz, meanwhile, had dropped out of the race without warning, leaving me unopposed.

One afternoon, Kazier came up to me, smiling wide. “Congrats, tol,” he said. “Looks like ikaw na ang magiging president. Renz dropped out, ‘di ba?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, trying to keep my tone casual, but a part of me felt disappointed. I had wanted to win the presidency fair and square—not because Renz gave up.

During my acceptance speech, I stood on stage, trying to focus on the cheers and applause, but my mind kept wandering back to Renz. He wasn’t in the crowd, of course. He hadn’t spoken to me in weeks, and now, he had abandoned the election altogether.

I scanned the sea of faces, but no sign of him. Typical, I thought. He always avoided the consequences.

But even as I held the microphone, delivering promises of change and progress to the student body, I couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness. I had won, but something still felt unfinished, unresolved. I glanced at the crowd one last time, hoping to see him—hoping, maybe, that he’d come up to me and we could finally talk.

Then, just for a moment, I caught sight of him across the room. Our eyes met. He looked lost, standing alone at the back. For a second, I felt that pang of regret again.

I wanted to approach him, to tell him I was sorry again, properly this time. But I didn’t. I turned away, focused on the applause, on the responsibilities ahead of me.

As I stepped down from the stage, I couldn’t help but wonder, if he hadn’t backed out of the race, would things have turned out differently? Would we have found a way to work together?

But there was no time to dwell on that now. I had a school to lead. And maybe, just maybe, someday, I’d have the chance to make things right with Renz. But for now, I had to focus on moving forward. Wala nang atrasan.