CHAPTER THREE: AFTER HOURS

“Miss Dela Cruz?”

The voice was calm, steady—yet something about it carried an air of authority. Francine looked up and was momentarily struck by the sight of him. Standing there, tall and composed, was their new department head, Sir Cliff Sable. He stood at the door, framed by the soft light, his presence commanding but not overwhelming.

“O-Oh, y-yes, Sir?” Francine stuttered, quickly standing up from her seat.

“Why are you still here?” Sir Clifford asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. “It’s already a quarter to eight. You’re still here after everyone else left?”

Francine felt a slight flush rise to her cheeks. “Ah, I’m just tidying up a bit, arranging my things. I’ll be leaving soon, sir.” Her voice sounded calm, but inside, there was a flicker of nervous energy. “You? What brings you here? Is there something I can help you with?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering her words. “It’s nothing urgent,” he replied, his gaze flickering toward the quiet, empty halls beyond the faculty room. “I’m just touring around, getting a feel for the place. Since it’s already late and there aren’t many people left, I thought I’d check in with each department.”

Francine nodded, her mind still racing. She was trying to be polite, but there was something about the way he said it, the curiosity in his eyes, that kept her wondering. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt drawn into the quiet intensity of the moment, a strange sense of anticipation building between them.

Then, after a brief pause, Sir Clifford spoke again, his voice soft but direct. “Do you have any plans tonight, Miss Dela Cruz?”

The question hung in the air like a delicate thread, and Francine found herself looking up at him, suddenly aware of the weight of the moment. She cleared her throat, trying to keep her composure. “None, Sir. Just planning to rest after this. Is there something you need?”

He studied her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. There was an air of mystery about him—something distant, yet familiar, as if there was more to his words than what met the eye. Finally, with a small smile, he spoke again.

“Honestly, I don’t know anyone here. I’m new to Manila,” he said, his voice almost as if sharing a secret. “Can you be my guide for a couple of hours? Show me around the city?”

The request caught her off guard. Francine hadn’t expected something so personal, especially from someone in his position. But there was something in his eyes—an invitation, a quiet plea for connection—and she found herself pausing, considering the offer.

The stillness in the room seemed to stretch on, the faint buzz of the lights filling the space between them. And in that moment, the evening air, the weight of their shared solitude, felt almost like an unspoken promise.

They stepped out of the school together, and a comfortable silence settled between them. The evening air felt cool against their skin, a calm contrast to the quiet anticipation hanging in the air. As they entered the elevator, the gentle hum of the machinery was the only sound breaking the stillness.

Then, out of the blue, Clifford spoke, his voice cutting through the silence with a soft, thoughtful tone.

“Miss Dela Cruz, may I ask you a question?”

Francine glanced up, slightly surprised, but her curiosity piqued. “Ah, yes, Sir. What is it?”

He hesitated for a moment before continuing, as if weighing his words carefully. “If you don’t mind me asking, do you drive here, or do you prefer to commute by public transportation?”

Francine blinked, unsure of where this conversation was headed, but answered with a casual smile. “I drove here with my car, Sir. It’s in the parking lot.”

Clifford’s lips curved into a small smile, a sense of relief washing over him. “We’re the same, then. What do you think, your car or mine?”

Her eyebrows furrowed in mild confusion, and she quickly answered, trying to keep things casual. “Whichever you’re more comfortable with, Sir.”

“Okay, then,” he said with a decisive nod, his eyes lighting up with a sense of finality. “Let’s use yours.”

The conversation had shifted from the unexpected to a new decision, one that felt strangely intimate, but neither of them acknowledged it aloud. Instead, they continued their quiet journey, the weight of the decision hanging in the air as they made their way to her car.

Since Clifford wasn’t too familiar with the city, they agreed that Francine would drive. Clifford had offered to take the wheel so she could relax, but Francine insisted. There was something grounding about being behind the wheel—especially when nerves threatened to creep in.

The evening sky had deepened, casting the streets of Manila in a warm, golden glow from the streetlights. The hum of the car’s engine filled the quiet space between them as they navigated through the gentle bustle of evening traffic. Francine kept her eyes on the road, but every now and then, she felt Clifford’s gaze shift toward her, as if he wanted to say something.

Finally, he did.

“Miss Dela Cruz, may I ask for a favor?” His tone was polite but hinted at a certain vulnerability.

Francine’s hands remained steady on the wheel, though curiosity flickered in her chest. “Sure, Sir.”

“If you don’t mind… I prefer being called by my first name instead of my surname—especially when it’s just the two of us or we’re not at work. Formality makes me a little uncomfortable.”

Francine blinked in surprise. There was something unexpectedly earnest in his request, and it reminded her of her own feelings about workplace formality. She’d never liked the invisible walls titles seemed to build between people.

After a moment’s pause, she nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Alright… Clifford.” She tested the name on her tongue, and it felt natural in a way that surprised even her.

Clifford’s grin was instant, lighting up his face with a boyish charm that softened the intensity of his features. “Thank you.”

As they continued through the city’s winding streets, the tension that had lingered between them dissipated, replaced by a quiet ease. It was as if that small exchange had shifted the air around them.

Francine felt lighter too, as though something important had just begun without either of them realizing it. The city stretched out before them, full of possibilities, and for the first time in a long while, the night seemed like a new beginning.

“You can call me by my name as well,” Francine said, her eyes focused on the road ahead. The soft glow of the streetlights reflected off the windshield, giving her face a calm but thoughtful expression. “I don’t usually use formalities with my close friends at work. They call me by my nickname, actually. But when it’s work-related, I prefer being called Ma’am Francine or Ma’am Chin.”

Clifford chuckled softly, leaning back against the seat. “That sounds like me too.”

There was a pause—comfortable this time, with no awkwardness hanging between them.

Clifford glanced out the window at the passing city lights. “It’s funny how formalities can create walls, even when they’re not really necessary.”

Francine nodded slightly, her grip on the steering wheel relaxing. “True. But sometimes, those walls feel safe.”

Clifford tilted his head thoughtfully. “And sometimes, letting them down feels even better.”

Francine glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, a small smile playing at the edges of her lips. “Touché.”

With that, the evening air seemed to shift again—lighter, warmer, and filled with the quiet beginnings of something new.

They ended up at a cozy restaurant for a late dinner, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere despite the hour. Afterward, they wandered through a nearby shopping district, taking in the sights, and even made a quick stop at the amusement park. They knew they couldn’t explore everything in one night, so they promised to continue their little outings another day.

Throughout the evening, they learned more about each other than they expected. Francine discovered that Clifford was two years older than her—he was thirty-two, while she had just turned thirty.

“People close to me call me Cliff,” Clifford said with a smile. “Feel free to use that when it’s just the two of us.”

Francine smiled back. “Alright, Cliff. But only if you call me Chin.”

“Deal,” he agreed warmly.

The conversation felt light and effortless, and the formalities between them melted away. What started as a simple dinner had turned into the first step toward a growing friendship.

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