Kit Castille didn't want to be one of the girls who worshiped Matthew Rondillo in college. She doesn't want to be one of the girls in his little black book now. But she gave her heart to Matthew all those years ago. Driven by revenge, she's on a mis...
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Four years later. Greenbelt 3, Makati City.
Cold.
That's how I've always described the night breeze in Makati. Even in the summer, when the city is bursting with life, Makati feels cold, distant.
Maybe that's why people who live and work here can't survive without their caffeine and alcohol. Something to keep them warm enough to experience what the city has to offer, if they are brave enough to find it.
For the past four years, the city has been my life source. And by that, I mean my source of money as I jump from one agency to another, trying my best to forget that I have a journalism degree.
Four years out of college and I am still not doing what I thought I would after breaking free from the four walls of the university. I haven't really figured it out yet. But in the meantime, I have the city.
Four years out of college. I haven't really mapped out my life yet. The only thing I've learned so far is I can't seem to run away from the people I thought I'd never want to see or hear from again.
One month ago.
The first contact happened last month, during a very busy afternoon at work. I was rushing two poster studies for an up-and-coming lifestyle magazine when my phone vibrated.
"Is this Kit Castille?" read the message with an unidentified number.
"Yes. May I know who this is?" I replied.
"Hi Kit. This is Matthew Rondillo."
I almost dropped my hot coffee on the keyboard.
At first, I thought it was Hazel playing a bad prank on April Fool's day, but my college BFF reassured me that she had nothing to do with the text message.
"So, what did you say?" she asked.
I deleted the message right after I ended the call to Hazel that day. I had no idea what kind of twisted animal would play this card to haunt me on April Fools.
Two days later, the same number called and I answered because I wanted to know which prankster I needed to destroy.
"Hello?" the voice on the other line said. "Is this Kit Castille?"
And just like that, a hundred summers washed all over me in one go. I really didn't need to ask. His voice was something I knew by heart.
"It's Matthew," the person on the other line replied.
I had a 'drop everything' deliverable that day. My career comes first this time, I figured. Job orders are orders. So I dropped the call.
The third time Matthew tried to contact me was a true test of how long I can stand to torment myself. My boss and I were waiting at the conference room for our client and his editorial team. I spent an infinite amount of time working on the deck that won us this client. The glass door opened and the president of the newcomer publishing empire and his young editor-in-chief entered.
