I Called Her “Wife” Online, But In Real Life, I Was Trembling to Say Hello to My Best Friend’s Brother—I Didn’t Know He’d Been Watching My Two Faces for Six Months

I thought the most embarrassing thing in my life would be being caught by someone else having sex with my “husband” online.

I was wrong.

It’s even more embarrassing when you find out that the man you call “husband,” “love,” and “baby” every day in chat…

He’s also the man you’re afraid to call “Kuya” in real life.

And the most painful?

He knew that from the beginning.

“Love, who is more important to you? Me or your brother?”

I’m curled up on my dorm bed, holding my cellphone in both hands while trying to make my voice softer than usual. If my classmates at PUP saw me, they might laugh. In class, I’m quiet. In group work, I hardly speak. But in front of my cellphone, when I’m talking to “Doc B,” I become a different person.

On the other end, he laughed softly.

His voice was tired, as if from a long duty at the hospital. But even though it was tired, there was still a softness.

“You are more important,” he said. “But he is still my brother. I still have to take care of him.”

“Hmm.” I pretended to sulk. “You’re always defending him.”

“I will not leave you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

My heart beat faster.

Doc B is my online boyfriend. We haven’t met yet, but we’ve been talking for six months. He’s a cardio surgeon at a big hospital in Makati. We first talked because he commented on a short romance story I wrote online. He’s not like other readers who just say “update pls”. He paid attention to the details. He praised the heroine’s lines. He even asked why the hero was afraid of falling in love.

From then on, it became a chat. It became a call. It became a nightly call.

I couldn’t see his face clearly. Sometimes, he would only show his hands while he was drinking coffee. His fingers were long, his nails were clean, there were a few veins on the back of his hand. Once, while we were on a video call but not looking at his face, I said without thinking:

“Awesome, your hands are beautiful. Those slightly curved fingers of yours, love, are so my type. I feel like I’m dying of excitement.”

He was silent for a few seconds before laughing softly.

“What are you doing to me, Maya?”

I blushed all night.

I am Maya Reyes, twenty-two, shy, aspiring writer, and a certified coward in real life.

Especially when the conversation is about Adrian Valdez.

My best friend Nica’s older brother.

Adrian was my childhood nightmare.

When we were kids in Quezon City, we used to play in the same compound. He was fat, stubborn, and always had a lollipop in his hand. One day, he snatched my candy, ran away, and called me “kamote girl” because I liked to hide behind my mother.

I cried for an hour.

Since then, whenever I hear his name Adrian, I want to hide under the table.

So when Nica called one night, I almost dropped my cellphone on my face.

“Maya! Our dorm is flooded! We can’t sleep here anymore. Can I pull you up? Brother Adrian and I are at the condo in BGC. Please, come with me. I’m scared of him!”

My whole body stiffened.

“It’s not possible.”

“Maya!” She looked like she was about to cry. “If you don’t come, I’ll face my older brother who’s like a principal who’s always angry all by myself. I’ll die of nervousness.”

“He is not a murderer.”

“Worse. He’s quiet when he’s angry.”

I closed my eyes.

Nica is kind to me. She’s the one who defended me when my story was bashed online. She’s the one who buys my food when I can’t stand waiting in line at the cafeteria. She’s also the one who said when I admitted I had an online boyfriend, “That’s okay. Sometimes online is safer than the cool guys on campus.”

So in the end, I sighed.

“Two weeks lang.”

“Two weeks! Promise!”

Before I went to bed, I messaged Doc B.

“Love, I might not be able to be online much this week. I’m going with my best friend. We’re staying at her brother’s condo. Her brother is scary.”

He answered quickly.

“Why is it scary?”

“Cold. Grumpy. He’s my childhood trauma.”

“Trauma?”

“He stole my lollipop when we were kids. He even called me a sweet potato girl.”

It took a long time before he answered.

Then, the chat bubble appears.

“Maybe he was still young then.”

“No. He has really bad manners.”

“Okay. Take care. Message me when you arrive.”

I hugged the cellphone.

Little did I know that on the other end, Adrian Valdez himself was watching our chat.

I also didn’t know that with my name “Maya Summer” in his chat, he had been putting the pieces together for a long time.

The next day, Saturday afternoon, Nica and I stood in front of a quiet, expensive condo in BGC. I was holding my suitcase, but I felt like running back to the dorm even though the bed was wet.

“Relax,” Nica said as she typed in the passcode. “Kuya is away. He’s on duty every weekend.”

The door opened.

And there he stood.

White shirt. Gold-rimmed glasses. Tall. Broad shoulders. Holding a white cat that looks like it came from a cat food commercial.

I stopped.

Is he Adrian?

The kid who used to steal candy?

Impossible.

The man in front of me didn’t look like a nightmare. He looked more like a leading man in a K-drama who spends too much on skincare.

“Brother?” Nica’s mouth dropped open. “Why are you here?”

Adrian didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze passed over Nica, then straight to me.

Cold. Quiet. But there was a hidden smile on the corner of his lips.

My hand suddenly became cold.

I bent almost ninety degrees.

“G-good afternoon po, Kuya Adrian.”

The hallway fell silent.

The white cat on her arm jumped down and came to my feet. It scratched my shoes, but I didn’t move.

“Come in,” said Adrian.

It’s simple. One word. But it’s like a judge’s order.

Nica pulled me inside.

“Guest room on the right,” Adrian said. “Nica, you take care of it.”

I ran into the guest room as if I was being chased by a ghost.

After closing the door, I immediately took out my cellphone and messaged Doc B.

“Love, I’m here. I’m right. Her brother is scary. He’s like a refrigerator with glass.”

He replied immediately:

“Is that so? Maybe he just doesn’t know how to show emotion.”

I blinked at the screen.

“No. When we were kids, he stole my lollipop. Then he called me a sweet potato girl. He was so mean.”

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Then, he replied:

“What if he had a reason?”

My forehead is furrowed.

“What’s the reason? He’s just a kid, he already knows how to hurt feelings.”

After a while, there was a knock.

“Dinner,” Adrian’s voice came from outside.

I almost threw the phone.

I hurried out, trying to fix my hair. At the dining table, Nica was sitting eating sinigang. Adrian was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, serving rice.

Being domestic doesn’t suit him. Surprisingly.

“Brother, the sinigang is delicious!” said Nica. “You have a heart.”

He didn’t answer.

He placed the bowl in front of me.

“You don’t eat okra, right?”

I’m stiff.

How did he know?

I slowly looked at him.

“Ah… opo.”

He looked at me for a moment. “I removed it.”

My chest was beating strangely.

But I stopped that immediately.

Coincidence lang.

After eating, Nica took a shower. Adrian and I were left in the living room. I was sitting on the end of the sofa, holding the pillow like a shield. He was sitting on the other side, reading the medical journal on his tablet. His cat, Mochi, was already on my lap, even though I hadn’t invited him.

Suddenly my cell phone rang.

And Doc B.

My heart almost jumped.

I can’t answer in front of Adrian.

I pressed decline.

I messaged:

“Later, love. I’m in the living room with his scary brother.”

On the other side of the sofa, Adrian’s phone rang.

A short notification sound.

We were both stunned.

He slowly looked at his phone.

I slowly looked at him too.

He picked up the cellphone, read the screen, and the corner of his lips slightly raised.

Then, he looked at me.

“Maya,” he said calmly.

It felt like ice had passed behind me.

“Why?”

He raised his phone slightly.

And on the screen, I saw the name of the chat.

Maya Summer.

My last message follows:

“Later, love. I’m in the living room with his scary brother.”

The air in my lungs disappeared.

Adrian smiled.

It’s not cold.

Not innocent.

He smiled as if he had been waiting for this exact moment for a long time.

“So,” he said softly, “I’m scary, love?”

PARTE2

“So,” he said softly, “I’m scary, love?”

I can’t breathe.

If only the floor of the condo could open up and swallow me straight down to the ground floor, I would willingly jump in. I was sitting on the couch, hugging the pillow, while Adrian Valdez—my best friend’s older brother, my childhood nightmare, the man I called the refrigerator with a mirror—was looking at me while holding his cellphone.

And on his screen, our chat was clearly visible.

Maya Summer.

Doc B.

It felt like someone had dropped a whole bucket of ice on my head.

“No,” I said immediately, even though it made no sense. “It’s not you. I mean, yes you are, but it’s not you anymore. I mean—”

His smile deepened even more.

“I don’t know how to show emotion?”

I’m closed.

“Please, Brother Adrian…”

“Brother?” He raised his eyebrows. “Just now, I was in love.”

I want to cry.

At that exact moment, the bathroom door opened. Nica came out, towel in her hair, unaware of the deluge happening in the living room.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asked.

I stood up immediately. “I’m going to sleep!”

“Maya, it’s only eight o’clock.”

“I’m tired of life!”

I ran into the guest room and closed the door. I didn’t lock it because it was Adrian’s house, but I held on to the doorknob like there was a fight in a movie.

Outside, I heard Adrian’s soft laughter.

That’s not strong. It’s not sarcasm either.

But it was enough for me to fall into bed and cover my face with a pillow.

Six months.

I called my best friend’s older brother my husband for six months.

I spent six months courting the man I feared.

He knew for six months?

I took out my cellphone. There was a message from him.

Doc B:
“I won’t laugh at you.”

I answered immediately.

“Liar. I heard you laugh.”

“Just a little.”

“Adrian!”

“Love?”

I almost dropped the phone.

I typed with trembling fingers.

“Don’t call me love when you already know who I am!”

“Why? It’s really you.”

I couldn’t answer.

Another message arrived.

“Let’s talk tomorrow. Go to sleep first. And don’t lock the door in case of an emergency. You had a history of asthma when you were a child, right?”

I sat up suddenly.

How did he know that?

The next day, I woke up early. My plan was to avoid him. It was simple: I would leave before he woke up, I would come back when he was asleep, and after two weeks, I would disappear like a bubble.

When I opened the door, he was there at the dining table.

There’s coffee. There’s pancakes. There’s scrambled eggs. And there’s a little bottle of honey next to my cup.

“Good morning,” he said.

He looked calm. He was wearing a gray sweater, glasses, and it was like he hadn’t destroyed my entire being last night.

I slowly sat up.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re so nervous that your stomach hurts when you don’t eat.”

I looked at him with a frown. “Stop knowing things.”

He stopped putting coffee in the cup.

“Not everything I know comes from our chat.”

I fell silent.

For a few seconds, all I could hear was the soft sound of the spoon in the cup.

“Do you really remember me?” I asked.

“Just the beginning.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“Because if I say so, you will run.”

I couldn’t answer. That’s true.

He sat in front of me.

“When we first talked online, I didn’t know it was you. But you wrote a scene about a little girl who cried because her lollipop was stolen. She was called a sweet potato girl.” He smiled slightly. “Not many people have that kind of trauma.”

My face turned red with embarrassment.

“So you knew then?”

“Almost. Then you said you don’t like okra. You’re allergic to certain types of perfume. You’re afraid of elevators when they’re too crowded. And when you’re nervous, you type three dots even though you don’t have anything to say.”

I squeezed the pandesal in my hand.

“Why did you continue?”

He looked at me for a moment.

That’s when I first saw that he wasn’t as cold as I thought. His eyes were tired, yes. Quiet, yes. But underneath that, there was caution. There was nervousness too.

“Because you’re fun to talk to,” he said. “And because of the chat, you’re not afraid of me.”

My world stopped with one little sentence.

You are not afraid of me.

That’s the reason.

In real life, I tremble in front of him. But online, I call him love, I fight with him when he replies late, I tell him about my dreams, even my insecurities as a writer. I tell him that I’m afraid of being boring. I tell him that sometimes, I feel like I’m nothing special.

And he always answers:

“There are people who don’t make a lot of noise. But when they’re gone, that’s when you realize they’re the ones who heat up the entire room.”

Before, I thought Doc B was the only one who understood me.

Now, he is in front of me.

And I don’t know whether I should be happy or angry.

“You fooled me,” I said.

He nodded. “Yes.”

He didn’t defend himself. He didn’t let himself slip away. That made me even more annoyed.

“Why weren’t you even afraid of hurting me?”

“I was scared.”

“But you did it anyway.”

“Because I became selfish.”

The kitchen is quiet.

Finally, I stood up.

“I need time.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t call me love for now.”

He smiled slightly, but his eyes were sad.

“Okay, Maya.”

I thought that was the biggest problem.

Not yet.

In the afternoon, Nica came home from the university admin office. She was carrying her laptop and looked disorganized.

“Maya,” he said. “There’s a problem.”

I forgot about Adrian for a moment. “What?”

“Someone sent me an anonymous message.”

He showed the screen.

There is a screenshot of the chat.

Adrian and I chatted.

Not the entire chat, but enough to see my sweet messages.

“Love, I miss you.”

“Are you tired again? Come on, I’ll hug you virtually.”

“When we meet, I promise I won’t run.”

I’m stiff.

At the bottom of the screenshot, there is a message:

“Is he really your best friend? Or is he using you to get close to your doctor brother?”

My eyes widened.

“I’m not—”

“I know,” Nica said quickly. “Maya, I know you.”

But his hand was shaking.

Adrian came in from the hallway. He looked like he had just gotten off the phone. When he saw the screen, his expression changed.

“Who is it from?”

“Anonymous account,” said Nica.

Adrian took his brother’s phone, checked the details, and fell silent.

For the first time, I saw that his face was really cold.

Not because of me.

But because someone hurt us.

“Did someone tamper with your phone?” he asked Nica.

“I don’t know. But last night, my laptop was in the living room. I might have left it there tomorrow.”

I suddenly remembered some of Nica’s classmates who came yesterday to bring things. One of them was Carla, her classmate who had a long-standing crush on Adrian. When we entered the condo, she even asked if Nica’s older brother was single.

And when he saw me, he raised an eyebrow at me.

“Carla,” I said softly.

Nica looked at me. “What?”

I told him what I saw. Before I could finish, Nica’s phone rang again.

There’s a new post on a university gossip page.

“SHY WRITER GIRL, SECRETLY FLIRTING WITH BEST FRIEND’S RICH DOCTOR BROTHER?”

There’s a blurred photo of me in the condo lobby.

There is a screenshot of the chat.

There is a caption that indicates that I am a user, a social climber, and that I use Nica.

My whole body went cold.

Everything I feared as a shy woman, as a woman not used to attention, suddenly happened in front of me.

“I’m not like that,” I whispered.

“We know,” Nica said. She held my hand. “Maya, look at me. I know.”

But he didn’t know enough.

Because of the comments, people don’t know me. And when they don’t know you, it’s very easy to make a villain out of you.

Adrian stood up.

“I’m going to the admin.”

I grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

He looked at my hand, then at my face.

“Why?”

“They’ll just say I’m using you.”

“You are not using me.”

“But that’s what they want to see.”

He was silent for a moment.

Then, he gently removed my hand from his arm, but not to move away. He held it tightly.

“Maya, your whole life, when you are afraid of something, you retreat.”

I blinked.

“I don’t blame you,” he said. “When we were kids, you cried because I took your lollipop. But you didn’t know why.”

I looked at him.

“What reason?”

He took a deep breath.

“That day, a boy in the compound put a small rock in your candy. I saw it. I snatched it away before you could swallow it.”

I can’t move.

“Why did you call me a sweet potato girl?”

He bowed slightly, as if embarrassed by the young version of himself.

“Because I was stupid. I didn’t know how to say I was worried. I put you at ease in the most wrong way.”

My chest feels tight.

My childhood nightmare, I didn’t understand half of it.

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t at fault,” he added. “I hurt you. And now, I hurt you again because I hid the truth. But I don’t want to let someone else hurt you while I’m quiet.”

The door opened.

Carla came in, along with another of Nica’s classmate, carrying the charger she had left behind. When she saw us in the living room, she was stunned.

Especially when he saw Adrian holding my hand.

“Hey,” he said, forcing a smile. “Is there drama?”

Adrian didn’t answer.

Nica came closer.

“Did you post it?”

Carla blushed. “Huh? You’re so mean. Why me?”

“Because you were the only one who saw my laptop last night. And you were the only one who asked if my brother was single.”

Carla laughed. “So it’s my fault right away? Maybe it’s true? Maybe Maya is just using her innocence.”

Silence fell.

Before, in this situation, I would cry. I would run. I would hide in the CR.

But I felt Adrian’s hand in mine. He wasn’t pulling me. He wasn’t leading me.

He was just there.

It’s like saying I can speak.

I took a deep breath.

“I didn’t use Nica,” I said. My voice was shaky, but I kept going. “I also didn’t know Adrian was the one I was talking to online. And even if I did know, you have no right to take over someone else’s private chat and embarrass them.”

Carla blinked. “Private? You’re really flirting.”

The word hurts.

But instead of getting smaller, I suddenly felt tired.

I’m tired of being ashamed to love someone. I’m tired of being ashamed to be tender. I’m tired of explaining myself to someone who only wants to hurt me.

“If I am tender towards the person I love, that is not shame,” I said. “Shame is when you hurt someone because they are not your choice.”

Carla blushed profusely.

Before he could answer, Adrian spoke.

“There is CCTV in the hallway and living area entrance. There is a record of who used Nica’s laptop last night. There are also timestamps of the anonymous account creation. If you want, we can take this to the cybercrime desk.”

The courage on Carla’s face disappeared.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered.

Nica laughed bitterly. “But you intentionally ruined my best friend.”

Carla cried and apologized. Adrian deleted the post, had her confession taken in front of us, and the next day, her family spoke to the school admin. We didn’t make the revenge go viral. The truth is clear enough for the people who need to know.

But my real fight isn’t with Carla.

But Adrian.

That night, I was on the balcony of the condo, looking at the lights of BGC. He brought me a hot ginger ale.

“For your throat,” he said. “You’ve been shaking for a while.”

I accepted that.

We were silent for a long time.

“I’m still angry,” I said.

“I know.”

“But thank you.”

“I know too.”

I looked at him. “You’re so arrogant.”

He smiled. Finally, it wasn’t cold anymore. It was true.

“I’m not bragging. I just hope I know you at least a little.”

I held the cup tightly.

“Why do you like me?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

I thought he would give a romantic answer, like in novels. But Adrian, even online, doesn’t like to be flippant.

“Because when you write, you are brave. Even in real life you are quiet, with your words, you fight. I like that part of you that doesn’t give up.”

My nose hurts.

“And because,” he added, more softly, “when we were kids, you were the first kid to give me half of your biscuit when no one wanted to play with me because I was fat.”

I forgot about that.

But he, no.

“I thought I was the only one with trauma,” I whispered.

“It turns out we both have false memories.”

I laughed even with tears.

He came a little closer, but not too much.

“Maya, I won’t force you. If you want to end everything, I’ll accept it. If you want to start over as strangers, I’ll do it. If you want to call me Kuya Adrian while you’re still angry, I’ll put up with it.”

I smiled.

“What if my brother doesn’t like it?”

He stopped.

That’s where I first saw Adrian Valdez lose his composure.

“What do you want?”

I looked at him. At the man I feared. At the man who listened to me every night. At the man who made a mistake, admitted it, and stayed. At the man who protected me without making me weak.

“I want us to start with the real name,” I said. “Not Doc B. Not Kuya. Not love.”

He nodded.

“Adrian.”

I took a deep breath.

“Maya.”

He reached out his hand.

I looked at it. The hand I once praised online. The fingers were long. There was a slight curve. There was a vein in the back. The hand of a doctor. The hand of a man who knew how to save the hearts of others, but barely knew how to take care of his own feelings.

I held it slowly.

“By the way,” I said, trying to be serious, “I still haven’t forgiven you for the lollipop.”

He laughed.

“I’ll buy you a box.”

“Just one box?”

“A lifetime supply.”

“Good.”

From inside the condo, Nica shouted, “I can hear you! If I were your sister-in-law, Maya, I would still be your favorite!”

I laughed out loud.

Adrian shook his head, but smiled.

Not everything suddenly became perfect.

We had to deal with awkwardness. I had to learn not to run when I was embarrassed. He had to learn to tell the truth before silence became a wound.

But there are loves that don’t start with the first kiss.

Sometimes, it starts with a misconception.

With a candy that was stolen.

In a chat that wasn’t meant to be home.

And for two people who are both afraid to show their true selves, until one day, they have nowhere to hide.

Not everyone who hurt us in the past is an enemy forever. But not everyone who loves us has the right to lie just to stay. True love also learns to apologize, to wait, and to choose to be honest even when it’s scary.

So if someone sees your weakest part and still chooses to stay, don’t run away.

But make sure that when you hold his hand, you’re no longer hiding behind fear.

But you walk, full of courage, as yourself.