JHARIED'S POV
I couldn't sleep all night. It had felt as though, since Filia had walked out last night, something heavy had been pressed against my chest. I couldn't fathom it. I mean, yes, she's often hot-tempered and frequently moody, and is very frequently angry for reasons I don't know, but last night was different.
That wasn't a normal Filia tantrum. The slamming of that door was different. The way she avoided me. The intense heaviness in her eyes before she went straight to her room.
She was hiding something. And she didn't want to tell me.
And I refused completely to let her go through it alone.
It was still early, but I was wide awake. I hadn't slept well-maybe only about three hours? I was having coffee and weighing my options: whether to talk to her right away or let her cool down. just seconds into that thought, the door of the guest room she had spent the night in opened. She came out, hanging her head, brow furrowed, clearly sleep-deprived.
"Filia." I called out, my voice steady but laced with anxiety.
She didn't look up.
"Good morning," she mumbled, going directly to the table, directly to the bread, like a robot.
"Aren't we going to talk about—"
"I don't want to," she interrupted me right away.
I clenched my fist. "Filia, 'I don't want to' is not an answer. I need to know what's going—"
"I said, I don't want to." She stopped, looked at me, and for the first time… I saw her eyes completely devoid of sparkle. Exhausted. Burned out. Full of weight. "Jharied, don't force me. Please."
The word *please* hit differently.
She sounded like a child who had lost her voice all day, and that was the only word she could manage to push out.
"Filia…" I moved closer, but she turned her back before I could even reach her shoulder.
"I'm going to school."
She turned and walked away without one backward glance.
---
In the car, she still wasn't talking. She stared silently out the window. She was not crying, but she looked like she wanted to be. Her hands kept fidgeting, twisting her fingers as if she was fighting something inside her.
I couldn't take it anymore.
"Filia… What happened?, I ask with a soft voice.
She shook her head. "Nothing."
"Filia."
"I said nothing!" she exclaimed, forcing her voice down because we were in the car. "Jharied, can you please just… stop? I can't handle it right now. I can't argue, I can't explain, I can't *lie*, okay? Just—just let me breathe."
That last part—*lie*—made me look away.
"Lie?" I repeated.
She used the wrong word. I saw it. Because her eyes widened, as if she had been burned.
"I mean—that, whatever. Stop asking. I'm done."
I didn't speak after that. Not because I was giving up-but because I knew if I pushed any harder now, her fear would only heighten.
But I wasn't going to stop.
---
When we arrived at school, we still emerged from the car together, but it was apparent she did not want to display the friction between us. Of course, they were the most talked-about rumor on campus-we were the supposed newlyweds. Whether that was true or not, all eyes were on us. Everyone was focused.
And the infuriating part? Samantha was right there at the gate.
And the *more* infuriating part? She saw us.
She looked at Filia as if she was no better than some dirt on the floor. Literally, with an anger I couldn't comprehend. But I couldn't focus on that right now; I felt Filia flinch as she appeared to sink down even further in her seat when she saw Samantha.
"Filia…" I called, and we moved towards the hallway.
She didn't look at me; she didn't even speak to me. She just walked straight toward her classroom. I followed, taking her arm gently, but she wrenched it away to break free.
"Don't," she whispered. Not angry. Not annoyed, either. But… like she was terrified of being touched.
That was not normal.
I let her enter the classroom.
But it couldn't end there.
"---
When I reached our hang-out spot, I saw Roy, Zander, and Lara. Instantly, their eyebrows shot up.
"Bro, why do you look like you haven't slept?" Roy asked.
I sat down, rubbing my temples. "It's Filia."
"Here we go," Zander said, placing his milk tea down. "What did you do this time?"
"I didn't do anything," I said, exasperated. "It's her. Or something happened to her. She won't tell me."
They exchanged looks.
"What?" I asked.
Lara spoke first, "We noticed, even yesterday. Filia looked off. It wasn't her normal standoffish vibe. It was different."
"What do you guys think?" I asked.
They all kept quiet.
"Maybe it's about her dad?" Lara said suddenly.
I froze.
Her father.
Her father, whom I had never met. We hadn't spoken to him. He hadn't shown up.
"Why would it be?" I asked.
Lara shook her head. "I don't know. But I do know what the body language of a woman who's been scolded or fought with a parent looks like, as I've been there. Filia carried herself like she was carrying something heavy.
I stared at the floor.
Something heavy.
Something that she couldn't tell me.
Something that she believed she needed to carry alone.
I made a decision.
"I'm going to talk to her father."
"What?!" they exclaimed in unison.
I stood up, my decision firm.
"No. Actually," I corrected myself, "I'm going to investigate him first."
---
In the afternoon, I didn't head directly home. I didn't go to Filia either. In fact, I didn't even text her. Not because I didn't want to talk to her—but because I had to know the truth before I confronted her.
A single call and a few connections in the administration office, and I had the address of her family's house.
I was anticipating something strict-looking, intimidating, cold.
But when I arrived at their house, I was shocked.
It was clean, beautiful, and well-maintained. Warm colors. It looked peaceful. It looked serene.
And I became even more alarmed.
If the house was this warm and light… why was Filia's expression so cold whenever her family was brought up?
I rang the doorbell.
Then, after a few seconds, the door opened.
And a man with a kind smile greeted me.
"You must be Jharied," he said, warm and polite, almost too gentle. "I've heard so much about you."
I couldn't answer right away.
I hadn't expected this aura.
He opened the gate for me. "Come in. I'm Filia's father."
I walked in, my chest heavy. Something was wrong. I felt neither anger nor terror nor intimidation. But rather… it was almost mother-level kindness and manipulation.
"What brings you here, son?" he asked, inviting me to sit on the sofa.
"I… came to check on Filia," I said, getting straight to the point.
He smiled wryly. "Ahh. You two get into a fight?"
"A bit."
He sighed like a martyr parent who had a difficult, disobedient daughter. "I apologize for my daughter. She is a spoiled brat sometimes. She gets upset easily. Especially when she doesn't get what she wants."
I clenched my jaw.
That didn't sound right.
That wasn't Filia.
"And I know she has an attitude sometimes," he continued, still feigning humility. "But she's soft inside. Sensitive. Easily hurt. But once I talk sense into her, she returns to normal."
Once I talk some sense into her,
I frowned.
"Sir… did you two fight yesterday?
He laughed softly-but there was, in it, something of the trained liar's laugh.
"Argue? Not exactly. She was just upset. She thought I wouldn't give her what she wanted." He shook his head, smiling. "That's just how my daughter is. A little drama, a few tears, and then she's fine."
Drama?
Tears?
Like she was overreacting?
Like she wasn't dying inside?
Like she was the problem?
"I hope," he added, "you can be patient with her. Girls like her… they need guidance. They need someone strong enough to put up with them."
It was as if he was saying *she* was the problem.
As if *she* was the immature one.
As if *she* was the burden.
My jaw tightened at that.
Because that was not Filia.
And that was not what I saw in her eyes last night.
"Sir," I said, my voice low and steady but full of unspoken warning. "What exactly made her upset?
Another soft laugh. "Just childish things. Don't worry about it. She'll get over it."
Don't be concerned about that?
"Is that all, sir?" I asked coldly.
He nodded kindly. "Yes. Don't worry about my daughter. I know she's hard to understand sometimes… but she's not your responsibility."
I don't know why, but I answered him directly:
"But she is."
His expression changed for half a second. The mask seemed to crack, but he quickly resumed the role of the kind father.
"Well… that's sweet," he replied. "But as her father… I know what's best."
I didn't smile.
Neither did I nod.
I got up.
"Thank you for your time, sir."
He escorted me out, still polite, still kind, still smiling.
But when I walked out of the gate…
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
Because deep inside I knew: He was lying. And Filia wasn't safe with him. Until I find the answer, I will never stop.
---