Just When I Thought He Was Annoyed With Me, He Suddenly Found Out I Lied—And That’s When I Discovered That The Groom’s Silent Uncle Has Been More Afraid of Losing Me Than Admitting He Loves Me For a Long Time

At my best friend’s wedding, I wasn’t looking forward to a bouquet.

Him.

The groom’s quiet uncle looks like he’s straight out of an expensive TV series—tall, cold-eyed, and with the face of a man you know is dangerous to love.

I thought I could make him fall in love with me.

Until I read a message that shattered my face.

“Aren’t you irritated? He follows you around every day. He even comes to your office. The art of dressing, the noise.”

His answer?

“A little.”

It’s only four letters, but it feels like something hit me in the chest.

A little.

He’s a little irritated with me.

I slowly lowered his cellphone onto the desk, exactly where I had found it. It was as if if the phone didn’t move, my heart wouldn’t either.

But move.

Fell.

When Matteo Salazar’s meeting ended and he returned to the office, I was still sitting on the sofa, holding my bag as if I had suddenly become a visitor in a place I had previously considered my territory.

I often arrive there with an iced coffee, sometimes with ensaymada, sometimes without—just my face and courage.

“I’ll go first,” I said, forcing a smile.

He looked at me. His forehead wrinkled slightly.

“Doesn’t your stomach hurt?” he asked. “You said earlier that you wanted me to stir it.”

Before, just in that line, I was probably wrapped around his arm while acting.

But now, I withdrew my hand before he could completely touch it.

“I’m okay, Tito Matteo. Maybe I just ate something wrong.”

The wind stopped.

I could see how his expression had changed. It wasn’t obvious to others, but I knew his little movements. The slight tightening of his jaw. The darkening of his eyes. The raising of his eyebrows as if he had heard a wrong note in his favorite song.

“What did you call me?”

“Uncle Matteo,” I repeated, calmly. “You’re Paolo’s uncle. Paolo is my best friend’s husband. So, it’s probably okay for me to call you uncle. I can’t always be rude.”

He stared at me for a long time.

When I first met him at Lianne’s wedding, I wasn’t this fluent in speaking.

That day, while everyone was busy at the reception in Tagaytay, I saw him enter the garden hall wearing a simple black polo and slacks. No fancy clothes, no forced appearance. But he was the most expensive looking person in the whole place.

He sat next to me.

And as a woman who is not afraid of being embarrassed, I immediately smiled.

“Hi, are you single?”

He almost drowned in the water.

“Matteo Salazar,” he replied after a few seconds. “Twenty-eight. Single.”

“Perfect,” I said, immediately pulling out my phone. “I’m Camila Reyes. Twenty-four. Single too. Add me on Messenger before I regret not reaching out to you.”

He didn’t smile, but he added me.

When Lianne and Paolo returned to the table, that’s when I found out who he was.

“Uncle Matteo,” Paolo called to him.

I turned to Lianne.

“I’m your daughter-in-law now,” I whispered.

Lianne almost choked. Then, she seriously pulled me to the side.

“Mila, Paolo said, is really cold. Not into relationships. Doesn’t show interest in anyone either. Twenty-eight years old, like a seminar speaker on self-control.”

I am even happier.

I thought he was a challenge.

So after the wedding, my daily antics began.

“Brother Matteo, I’m dizzy. Can you stop my mind from spinning for a moment?”

His reply: “I sent a salad on Grab. Drink it.”

“Baby, it’s cold at night. Can I hug you?”

“Put on a jacket.”

“Love, I feel like I’m going deaf. Can I call so I can hear your voice?”

He sent a voice message.

“It’s not possible.”

Just two words, still cold in the air conditioner of his BGC office, but I listened to it about twenty times while smiling into the pillow.

I thought, that’s just how he is.

No, it’s not.

Maybe he’s just putting up with me.

Maybe every time I go to his office, every joke I make, every flirtation I think is cute, turns out to be a hassle for him. Noise. Chaos.

It’s a bit annoying.

As soon as I left the building, the sky became heavy. I was on Ayala Avenue, but I felt like I was the only person left in the middle of the traffic, the rain, and the shame.

That night, Lianne called.

“Paolo and I are going to separate!”

I closed my eyes. “What did he do again?”

“He doesn’t love me.”

“Lianne, just last night he posted a picture of you with the caption, ‘my wife, my peace, my forever.’”

“Fake it. Come on, let’s drink.”

That’s when I understood. He just wanted to get me out.

I wouldn’t want to. But I’d rather not be locked in a condo while repeating the word “a little” in my head.

So I went to a bar in Poblacion.

There were Lianne, Paolo, some college friends, and people I didn’t know if I really knew or just background characters in the chaos of our lives.

I sat in the corner, holding a glass of cocktail that was sweeter than bitter.

Before, when we were at the bar, my eyes were only looking for Matteo.

Once, I even allowed Lianne to force Paolo to call his uncle. Matteo arrived then, wearing a gray shirt, calm, as if out of place in the noisy place.

I immediately grabbed his arm.

“Brother, why are you so cold? Do you have another baby girl?”

“Nothing.”

“I saw a doctor.”

He looked at me. “Are you sick?”

“Yes. The doctor said it was insomnia. He said I need to sleep on your chest.”

He pushed my forehead with a finger.

“The bed is more comfortable than my chest.”

I thought at the time that he was just shy.

Now, maybe he’s just trying to stop me from saying I should leave.

When my phone vibrated, I saw his name.

Matteo Salazar — Tito Version

I just bought that this afternoon, just to remind myself to stop my madness.

“Camila, are you home?”

I looked at the noisy dance floor, then typed.

“At home. Why?”

He typed for a long time.

“Aren’t you afraid of the dark?”

I bit my lip a lot.

A month ago, the power went out in my condo. I pretended to be afraid of the dark to force him to come see me. He came, carrying an emergency lamp, food, and a small moon-shaped night light.

He didn’t hug me.

But he sat next to my bed and told me a boring business case until I fell asleep.

I replied.

“Yes. That’s why the night light you gave me is on.”

He typed again for a long time.

Then, his message appeared.

“Then why is your room so dark?”

My hand on the phone went stiff.

Before I could think of an excuse, a cold voice spoke from behind me.

“Camila.”

I slowly turned around.

Matteo was standing at the entrance of the bar, his shoulders wet from the rain, his phone in his hand, and his eyes, which I had previously thought were indifferent—

was staring at me as if he had been looking for me all night.

PARTE2

Matteo was standing at the entrance of the bar, his shoulders wet from the rain, his phone in his hand, and his eyes, which I had previously thought were indifferent, were fixed on me as if he had been looking for me all night.

With the loudness of the music, I could barely hear my heartbeat.

But I can feel it.

It feels like there’s a drum in my chest.

Lianne, who had been pretending to be brokenhearted, suddenly stopped dancing. Paolo, who was still holding the bouquet, was stunned when he saw his uncle.

“Uncle?” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Matteo didn’t answer him.

He came straight to me.

With every step he took, I wanted to retreat even more. But the wall was behind me, the man I had been chasing for months was in front of me, and now I was the one who wanted to run away.

“I thought you were at home,” he said.

I swallowed. “I thought so too.”

His forehead furrowed. “What?”

“Nothing.” I looked down at my glass. “The plans just changed. Lianne invited me.”

“Why did you lie?”

That’s where I looked at him.

His voice wasn’t angry. That was the harder part. If he got angry, I could fight back. I could joke, hide from the mess, or smile like I didn’t care.

But he was quiet.

And in his silence, I heard my own tiredness.

“Shouldn’t you be happy?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light. “I’m no longer making a mess in my condo. I’m no longer nagging at your office. I’m no longer asking for deliveries, shopping, or attention.”

He looked at me for a long time.

“Camila.”

“I know,” I interrupted. “I read it.”

His grip on the phone tightened.

“What did you read?”

“The message.” I smiled, but I felt my lips tremble. “Someone asked if I didn’t irritate you. You said, a little.”

His face changed.

That’s where I first saw Matteo Salazar lose his composure.

“Camila, that’s not—”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly. “Promise. I get it. I’m too naughty. I’m too loud. I come to your office without notice. I’m so stubborn. Actually, you’re being kind because you only said ‘a little’.”

“You didn’t understand.”

“No, Tito Matteo. I just understood now.”

The surroundings were quiet even though the music continued. Maybe because some of our companions were already looking. Lianne had the face of someone who wanted to intervene but was afraid of the tension. Paolo, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to hide under the table.

I took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry if I’ve bothered you these past few months. It won’t happen again.”

After saying that, I picked up my bag and walked out.

I heard Lianne call me, but I didn’t turn around.

The rain outside is even worse. I didn’t bring an umbrella. Exactly. As if my scene of shame needed to be complete.

I was just on the side of the road when I felt someone grab my wrist.

“Let go of me,” I said, not looking back.

“No.”

I’m closed.

I used to love hearing that word from him. “No” that meant something. “I won’t leave you.” “I’m not annoyed.” “Everything is not a joke to me.”

But now, it hurts.

“Matteo, please.”

For the first time, I didn’t call him brother, baby, love, or uncle.

Just a name.

And it seems like he was the one who was hurt.

He circled around in front of me. He took off his jacket and put it on my shoulder. I didn’t accept it, but he didn’t take it back either.

“The message,” he said, his voice low, “was from Dani.”

I know Daniella. Paolo’s cousin. Beautiful, classy, ​​quiet. She’s one of those women who’s always a good fit for guys like Matteo. No need to make fun. No need to chase. No need to look stupid.

“Good for her,” I said. “She has a point.”

“He has no point.”

I looked at him.

“What he asked,” Matteo explained, “isn’t it irritating me because you follow me, you go to the office, you wear certain things to get my attention?”

“Exactly.”

“I answered, ‘a little,’ because I was irritated by his question. Not by you.”

The rain in my brain stopped.

But the rain still continues around here.

“What?”

He touched the bridge of his nose, clearly struggling.

“Camila, I’m not good at this.”

“Which one?”

“By saying what I feel.”

I laughed softly, bitterly. “Obviously.”

He looked straight at me.

“I don’t get annoyed when you come to the office.”

I didn’t speak.

“I don’t get annoyed when you bring me coffee even though the sugar level is always wrong.”

“Hey,” I complained softly.

“I don’t get annoyed when you call me names in front of my staff, even if the next day they’re talking about me in the pantry.”

“You should be ashamed. You’re boring.”

There was a slight movement on his lips. Still not a smile, but it was close.

“I don’t get annoyed when you pretend to have a stomach ache just to keep me by your side.”

That’s where I was stunned.

“You know?”

“Camila, you had milk tea delivered after you said your stomach hurt. I’m not stupid.”

I felt embarrassed. “Maybe it’s herbal milk tea.”

“Brown sugar with extra pearls.”

“Okay. I’m a little stupid.”

In the middle of the rain, in front of the bar, between my pride and his silence, we suddenly fell silent.

Then, his voice softened.

“I’m not angry with you. I’m scared.”

I am even more confused.

“You? Afraid?”

He nodded.

“In our family, healthy relationships are not the norm. My brother got divorced twice. Paolo’s parents still fight to this day even though they live in the same house. I grew up thinking that if you show too much affection, you’ll lose something. That’s why it’s easier for me to be cold. Cold is safe.”

My grip on his jacket tightened.

“But you came,” he continued, “and you messed up my system every day. Suddenly I was waiting for a message even in a meeting. Suddenly I was buying extra coffee even though I don’t like sweets. Suddenly I was memorizing what time you usually appeared in the lobby.”

I don’t know if my face is wet from the rain or tears.

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“Because you are my nephew’s wife’s cousin.”

“I’m his wife’s best friend. Not a cousin.”

“They’re both messy.”

“Not the same.”

“Because I am four years older.”

“You’re not a senior citizen, Matteo.”

“Because you’re the type of woman who, when you love someone, can’t just be half-hearted.”

I was silent.

And that was the most intense line I’ve ever heard from him.

It’s stronger than any confession with flowers, rings, or violins.

“Why did you call me ‘Tito’ earlier?” he asked, and now his voice was tinged with resentment.

I blinked.

“Is that where you really got stressed?”

“You never called me uncle. You suddenly called me uncle after you touched my phone. I thought something happened.”

“Something happened. I was hurt.”

His face twitched.

“Sorry.”

It’s simple.

But coming from Matteo, that seems like a big deal.

“I shouldn’t have read your phone,” I admitted.

“My answer shouldn’t have been so vague.”

I nodded.

A taxi pulled up to the side. I was about to hail it, but Matteo grabbed my hand again. It was more relaxed now, as if asking for permission.

“Can I take you home?”

Before, that was all I wanted to hear.

Now, I need to find out if it’s true.

“Why?”

“Because you’re wet.”

“There is Grab.”

“Because I’m worried.”

“I have friends.”

“Because I love you.”

It felt like the whole of Makati had stopped.

Even the honking, even the rain, even the shouting of the people outside the bar—it disappeared.

“Say it again,” I whispered.

He swallowed, but didn’t move away.

“I love you, Camila.”

I was so rude to him.

But at that moment, I was the one who couldn’t speak.

Then, the bar door opened and Lianne and Paolo came out, obviously listening inside.

“THAT’S IT!” Lianne shouted. “I told you he’s not a robot!”

“Love, slow down,” Paolo scolded.

“No! I’ve been praying for this for a long time. I thought they would only be night lights for the rest of their lives!”

I touched my forehead. “Lianne!”

Paolo, his face more troubled, looked at Matteo. “Tito, does this mean… Camila will be my aunt?”

Matteo didn’t answer.

I answered.

“It depends on whether your uncle knows how to flirt.”

Finally, Matteo smiled.

Not big. Not a romantic movie.

But it was enough to make me feel like I wasn’t alone in the rain.

The next day, I didn’t go to his office.

I also didn’t message a cheesy pickup line.

I gave him space, not because I was giving up, but because I wanted to see if he would come closer when I was no longer chasing him.

At ten in the morning, a delivery arrived at my condo.

A paper bag from my favorite bakery in Quezon City. With coffee, ensaymada, and a little card.

It states:

“It’s not because I’m annoyed. It’s because I want you to go.”

At the bottom, there is another line.

“Dinner tonight? Properly. No fake stomachache.”

I smiled even though I didn’t want to admit it.

I replied:

“It depends. Do you have another boring business case story?”

He answered quickly.

“If necessary so you can sleep.”

“What if I don’t want to sleep?”

He typed for a long time.

And for the first time, his answer wasn’t cold.

“Then I’ll stay awake with you.”

Not everything was an instant fairy tale.

There are still days when he’s quiet. There are days when I’m the overthinker. Sometimes, when he doesn’t reply right away, the word “a little” comes back to me. Sometimes, when I talk too fast, I can see him trying to keep up even though he’s clearly not used to it.

But we learned.

I learned that not everyone who is quiet is indifferent.

He learned that not all melodious people play.

A month after that night, we returned to Tagaytay for Lianne’s birthday. The whole gang was there, including Paolo’s family.

While eating, someone teased Matteo.

“That’s terrible, sir, he used to be like a rock. Now he has a girlfriend.”

He didn’t speak.

But under the table, he held my hand.

Strict.

Not secretly as if ashamed.

But quietly, as if saying, “I am here.”

I looked at him and smiled.

“Baby,” I whispered.

He closed his eyes slightly, as if he was holding himself back.

“Camila.”

“Love?”

“Camila.”

“Brother?”

He looked at me more closely.

“Titus Matthew?”

That’s when he finally gave in. He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, quickly but clearly.

The whole table screamed.

Paolo, clutching his chest, said dramatically, “I can’t do it. It’s really Tita Camila’s turn.”

Lianne, on the other hand, almost cried from laughter.

I laughed too.

But inside me, a small part has healed.

Because before, I thought I had to be the loudest in the room to get noticed.

I thought I had to laugh, chase, pretend, and appear shameless to be loved.

But there are people who don’t know how to scream love.

There are people who are not good at sweet words.

And there are hearts that are silent not because they are empty—

but because I’m too afraid to hear.

In the end, I learned this:

True love doesn’t always come the way we expect. Sometimes, it’s not a bouquet, it’s not a grand confession, it’s not a viral proposal. Sometimes, it’s just a little night light left in your dark room, a jacket in the rain, a simple “sorry,” and someone who finally chooses to stay.

So if anyone reading this now is tired of chasing, take a breath.

The person who is meant for you will not consider you a bother.

He won’t call you “a little annoying.”

And even if he’s afraid sometimes, the day will come when he’ll be more afraid of losing you than admitting his feelings.