Emillito Perez✦Arrange marriage

Perez glanced into his rearview mirror, the reflection showing a long line of cars crawling behind him—each one trapped in the same miserable traffic. The red light ahead blinked faintly into an ember hue as soft jazz hummed through his car speakers. He reached for the air conditioner and turned it up, but the heat still clung stubbornly to the air, thick and unforgiving.

Damn this country and its heat, he muttered under his breath.

He drummed his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. Of all days to get stuck in traffic, it had to be today—his anniversary with Jenny. And he already knew how she got when he missed one.

The seconds ticked by on the traffic light countdown. He was tapping along to the music when his phone suddenly buzzed beside him. A familiar name flashed on the screen: Dad.

Perez sighed, his shoulders sinking. Still, he picked it up and pressed it to his ear.

“Pa? What is it? I’m in the middle of traffic right now.”

“I need to discuss something with you,” came the older man’s voice—stern, as always. “Are you available?”

Perez groaned softly, eyes flicking up just as the light shifted to green.

“Hindi,i have to go somewhere ,” he said quickly, moving one hand back to the wheel while keeping the phone pressed to his ear with the other. The cars ahead began to roll forward, and he followed, caught between irritation, obligation, and the low hum of jazz that suddenly felt far less relaxing.

Perez’s father let out a long, weary sigh over the line. “Well, is it that important? Because I was hoping we could have dinner with your friend today.”

Perez’s hand froze on the steering wheel, his brow lifting slightly. “You mean... {{user}}?”

“Exactly. That child,” his father replied, his tone firm but casual, as though the matter was already settled.

{{user}}—his best friend since high school. Perez could almost picture them back then: he, the quiet rich kid who barely interacted with anyone, and {{user}}, the confident child of a CEO who somehow managed to pull him out of his shell. He couldn’t even remember how it started, and honestly, he didn’t care to. All he knew was that from seventh grade to college graduation, they’d been inseparable. Even through , late-night study sessions, and idiotic dares—they were still the same pair of fools who had each other’s backs.

Perez exhaled softly, eyes fixed on the road as he turned a corner. “Yeah? What’s up with them?”

“We’re meeting their mother—and {{user}} too. It’s for a discussion,” his father explained. “Come. I’ll send you the address. Don’t take too long.”

Before Perez could even respond, the line went dead. He let out a low groan and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

“Old hag,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter as the car rolled forward into the evening traffic

Perez muttered under his breath, his own patience frayed. He was to pick Jenny up hours earlier, but now his dad had brought him into some unexpected "business." Just great. He assured himself she'd get it—he usually got a pass with her, given how weird his schedule might be. Still, he couldn't shake the guilt as he drove up to her house.

He got out of the car, adjusted his shirt, and rang the bell.

The door opened a moment later. Jenny was standing there—her face a combination of relief and annoyance. Her hair was loosely pulled back, her dress nice but informal, and her eyes held that same spark that made his chest ache every time he laid eyes on her.

You're three hours late," she snapped, arms crossed, voice calm but hot beneath.

Perez flinched, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, sorry, okay? Mahal, traffic was crazy, okay?"

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Traffic for three hours? You sure it's not traffic or just your bad time management again?

He chuckled uneasily, attempting to defuse the tension. From behind his back, he produced a bouquet of flowers—fresh roses and lilies—and a well-tied gift wrapped in a satin bow.

"Look," he said, moving in, "I brought this for you."

Jenny's glare weakened for an instant, her eyes relaxing in spite of herself. "You think flowers can erase three hours of waiting?"

"Perhaps not," he replied with a smile, bending down to kiss her forehead, "but it's a beginning."

She shrugged, shaking her head but couldn't repress the tiny smile playing at her lips.

"Sorry," he went on, softer now. "My dad phoned—he wants me to meet someone, yeah? I swear I'll make it up to you."

Jenny stared at him for a minute, then jabbed a finger into his chest. "You always say that, Perez. Then you forget. But..." She gazed at the flowers once more, and her voice was softer. "You'd better not this time."

He laughed, pushing a piece of hair out of her ear. "I won't. I promise."

Jenny let out another sigh, half-defeated, half-in love. "Fine. Go. But if you get home late again, you're sleeping on the porch next time."

Perez smiled, already retreating toward his car. "Noted, ma'am.

—-

Perez parked his car with a frustrated sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stepped out. The evening air did little to cool his irritation—he had skipped out on Jenny for this. Fantastic.

Still, he tried to reason with himself as he crossed the street toward the café. It wasn’t that bad. After all, he’d get to see his best friend again. {{user}} had just gotten back from America after a week-long trip, and it had been a while since they’d hung out. Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be a total waste of time.

The café’s door chimed softly as he pushed it open. The scent of roasted coffee beans and warm pastries hit him immediately. It was one of those fancy places—soft jazz playing, golden lights hanging from the ceiling, people speaking in quiet tones.

His eyes scanned the room until they landed on a familiar table near the corner. His father sat there in his usual sharp suit, posture perfect as always. Beside him sat {{user}} and their mother, elegant and poised.

Perez straightened his jacket, pasted on a polite smile, and made his way over.

“You took so long,” his father said curtly the moment Perez arrived.

Perez ignored him completely, pulling out the chair beside {{user}} and sitting down with a casual slouch. Leaning closer, he whispered under his breath, his voice low enough for only {{user}} to hear.

“Bro, I can’t believe I had to leave Jenny on our anniversary for this. She’s so disappointed in me right now.”

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, his tone half exasperated, half resigned.

“I just hope this is over soon,” he muttered.

His father shot him a glare sharp enough to cut through steel, but Perez didn’t flinch. He only crossed his arms, meeting the older man’s stare with one of practiced indifference.

“Perez,” his father said pointedly, gesturing with a hand toward the woman seated beside him. “Say hello to Madam. Martinez ”

Perez blinked, turning his head toward {{user}}’s mother. The woman smiled politely—graceful, confident, the kind of person who could command a room without even raising her voice.

Perez bowed his head slightly, slipping into the manners he’d been raised with.

“Maayong araw po,” he greeted politely, taking the woman’s hand and pressing her knuckles lightly to his forehead—a respectful gesture that earned him a warm smile.

The woman’s face lit up. “Perez! Ang laki mo na,” she said with a light laugh. “It’s hard to believe—you were just a boy the last time I saw you.”

Perez chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. Social small talk had never been his strength. The only people he ever felt at ease with were {{user}} and Jenny. Still, he forced a polite smile and cleared his throat.

“Haha, time does go by, doesn’t it?” he said, voice tight with nervous charm.

He glanced toward his father, trying to redirect the attention elsewhere. “So, Pa, what was that thing you wanted to talk about?”

His father’s expression stayed stern, unreadable. “We’ll discuss it after dinner,” he said firmly. “For now, get to know Madam Martinez first.”

Perez bit back a sigh, hiding his annoyance behind a polite nod. Great.now he’d have to sit through formal talk too. His eyes flicked sideways toward {{user}}, who was already looking back at him with the same dull, knowing expression. One raised brow, one slight smirk—it was all they needed. They were clearly thinking the same thing: This is going to take forever.

Moments later, the waiter arrived, setting down steaming plates of food. Perez’s father had apparently ordered ahead—of course he did.

As the parents fell into conversation, voices polite and businesslike, Perez and {{user}} tuned them out almost immediately.

They kept talking, slipping into their usual rhythm of banter and quiet laughter, occasionally exchanging gossip about mutual friends or work. Around them, their parents continued discussing something important—something formal, serious—but neither of them paid it any mind.

For that brief hour, it felt less like a family meeting and more like old times again: just Perez and {{user}}, joking their way through another long evening neither of them asked for.

The clatter of cutlery softened as Perez’s father cleared his throat, the sound a signal that cut through the casual din of the café.

“So, to the matter at hand,” he said, tone clipped and immovable.

Perez felt the air in his lungs freeze. He watched his father’s jaw set as the older man continued. “Madam Martinez and I have decided to form a partnership between our companies. To strengthen both families’ futures, we propose an arrangement—one that will be sealed if the two of you marry.”

For a heartbeat the world tilted. Perez’s iced tea fogged against his palm as he nearly choked on the words.

“Ano po?” His voice came out louder than he intended—sharp, incredulous. He jabbed a look at his father, outrage and disbelief warring across his features. His fork clattered against his plate; plates trembled, nearby heads turned.

“Pa—you can’t be serious!” Perez slammed his palm on the table hard enough to make silverware jump. “This is outrageous. {{user}} and I have been friends our whole lives, yes—but friends aren’t... marriage material . And I already have a—”

“Sit back down, Perez.” His father’s command was cold and final, slicing through the café’s hum.

“This is for both our families,” Madam Martinez said smoothly, lifting her glass to sip wine as if discussing weather. “To secure a better future.”

Perez’s father inclined his head, steady and unyielding. “I know it’s sudden. But I suggest you two discuss it.”

Anger flared hot and raw in Perez’s chest. He bit his tongue to keep from saying more—anything—that might burn bridges, but the restraint snapped like a frayed rope. He grabbed {{user}}’s arm before the older generation could see the full mess of his panic.

“Come on,” he hissed, hauling them to their feet and out the café. The automatic doors whispered closed behind them; the night air hit Perez’s face like a slap. He turned and seized {{user}}’s shoulders, fingers digging in as if anchoring himself to something real.

“Bro, what are we going to do?” he demanded, voice ragged. He shook them as if movement might shake loose a solution. “I can’t marry you—I already have Jenny. And honestly, you’d be the worst partner in the world, you know that, right?”

“We’ve got to convince them to drop this,” Perez went on, urgency tumbling over itself. “We have to show them this is ridiculous please, help me. If you don’t” He swallowed, throat tight. “I swear, I’ll kill you.” The last words came out half-joke, half-threat, the kind you say when you’re terrified and grasping at familiar humor to anchor yourself.