Meet Cutes

MEET CUTE.

THE FIANCÉ
❝Do you remember the 21st night of September?❞
— September, Earth, Wind & Fire

Cecily Dela Rosa is a romantic – always has and always will be.

Some often say that she looks at life with rose-colored glasses, and whether they intended to insult or compliment her, she does not disagree. After all, her all-time favorite pair of sunglasses has always been the pink-tinted cat-eye sunglasses.

The city of Manila never looks more picturesque whenever she wears them. Of course, there's always that gray puddle that mysteriously never dries up or the rats that have made the streets their personal playground. But it's easier to ignore them when she has her rose-colored glasses on.

As a romantic, she sees almost all chance encounters as meet-cutes. Like the time when a supposed wingman turned into her date on a late night rendezvous. Or the time her friends became co-conspirators and forced proximity with her long-time crush. Also, when she literally bumped into someone who coincidentally, happened to be the same sixteen year-old who owes her an apology (and four months of her life).

No matter how silly it is, she believes in the invisible string that tied people who were destined to meet. And leading up to this wonderful happenstance is a series of seemingly unrelated events and inconsequential decisions.

Now, opposite to Cecily, sipping on an iced Americano, holding today's newspaper, and reading the 'Business, Financial, and Economics' section, is her fiancé.

Never have there been two people who are more different than Cecily and her fiancé. But sameness is overrated, and compatibility is what matters in the end. Like how she loves pickles, and he doesn't. Or how he always makes dad jokes, and she laughs at everything. Somehow, they still work.

Cecily takes a sip of her double chocolate chip frappuccino and leans forward. "Okay, don't look. There's a meet-cute happening right now." She looks at the boy and girl who can't be older than high school students, arguing with the staff at the counter. Apparently, they're both named Sam, and their orders were mixed up.

Her fiancé carefully folds the newspaper and turns around to look. When he does, the two teenagers glare at him in unison, as if saying, 'What are you looking at?.' He turns forward, whipping his head so fast that his glasses almost fall off his nose.

"What did I just say, babe?" She laughs. "What did I just say?"

"I swear to god, Gen Z's are so fucking scary," he mutters, shaking his head.

Her lips curve in amusement. "You're built like a tank. I doubt you should be afraid of some moody teenagers."

He straightens his back, gaining back some swagger. "You're right."

"Anyway, what do you think?" Cecily asks. "Meet-cute or not?"

"I think it's something they'll probably just write-off as a bad day, Cece," he replies.

"But you didn't see the way he kept glancing at her," she insists. "I think he's going to ask for her number when they leave."

"I don't think he will."

Cece tilts her head—a challenge. "Want to bet on it?"

Her fiancé mirrors her movement, leaning forward in interest. "Depends. What's at stake?"

"If I win, you'll wash the dishes for two weeks. But if you win, I'll iron the clothes for two weeks."

He smirks, leaning back on his seat and crossing his arms. He never passes up an opportunity to show off his biceps and arm tattoos. "Why don't we make it four weeks?"

She cocks an eyebrow. "Confident you'll win? Because last time we wagered a bet, I didn't wash the dishes for six weeks."

"Well, is that a yes or no?"

She nods, repeating the stakes, "Okay. I win, you wash the dishes. You win, I iron clothes for a month.

They shake on it, and when he lets go, he looks around the café, saying quietly, "We probably shouldn't be so invested in the lives of two teenagers. We're adults. It's weird."

She giggles, whispering. "I mean, we're already committed to this, so, you know, we might as well."

"This might take a while, though," he tells her, looking at his watch.

Cece takes a sip of her drink, slightly leaning to the side to get a better look at the boy and girl, who are sitting separately but occasionally sneaking glances at the other. She's suddenly reminded of the day she met her fiancé—of the push and pull, the awkward but palpable tension, and the thrilling uncertainty of everything that followed.

She smiles. "Speaking of, do you still remember the first day we met?"

—

A/N: and so it begins!

i know it's still quite rough around the edges—some dialogue is iffy, the flow might be off in some parts, etc. but i really started writing this with every intention of letting go of my obsession with getting every word and sentence right at the first draft. still, i hope i did somewhat okay :) and it was still enjoyable for you to read !! fingers crossed, i'll find my footing with everything soon hehe

💭 with that, what are your thoughts so far? make sure to take notes of any clue or hint about the fiancé 📝

thank you so much for reading ! please don't forget to vote and/or comment :)