Chapter 25 Choice

Chapter 25 Choice
We burst the confetti all at once, tiny flecks of color exploding in the air.

“Happy Birthday, Kuya!” Elise and Elijah shouted together.

Ethan froze.

For a heartbeat, he simply stood by the doorway, completely still—his hand still gripping the doorknob, his face caught between disbelief and quiet wonder. Confetti floated around him like slow snow, settling gently on his hair and shoulders.

His eyes moved from the balloons to the streamers, then to the pictures we had spent all afternoon hanging on the walls.

He swallowed visibly as he took in everything we had prepared for him.

Then his gaze landed on the slightly crooked but proudly displayed “Happy Birthday” banner above the table.

We all jumped when another confetti popper went off. Even little Evan, who was being carried by Blake, got startled and buried his face in Blake’s neck.

“Happy Birthday again, Kuya,” Elijah said with a wide grin.

We all turned to him.

“That’s enough with the moment, Kuya. I’m already hungry.”

“Ouch!” Elise yelped as she whacked Elijah on the head with an empty confetti popper. “You’re always hungry!”

Laughter erupted inside the house at his complaint.

“Papa Birtyay?” Evan suddenly spoke, drawing everyone’s attention.

I couldn’t help but stare at his face. His round cheeks puffed out as he grinned, his eyes sparkling with pride as if he had just achieved something monumental. His brows lifted in excitement, and his lips stretched into a wide smile, revealing the tiny gap between his front teeth. Then, realizing everyone was watching him, his smile turned shy. He let out a soft giggle, his little nose scrunching up as he half-hid his face behind his hands.

“Yes, it’s Papa Ethan’s birthday, kiddo,” Blake said gently, kissing Evan on the cheek.

Gross. Who knows what bacteria are in that mouth.

“What’s all this?” Ethan asked, still stunned.

Elise grinned and ran over to him, grabbing his arm. “It’s your birthday, Kuya! Duh!”

Ethan closed his eyes and shook his head, smiling. “I know that, but… this?” He paused, letting his eyes roam around the room again. “You guys did all of this?”

“Of course. Kuya Lucas helped us set everything up too,” Elise replied.

“Hey, I helped too!” Elijah protested.

Elise shot him a cold look and raised an eyebrow. “Did you, though?”

Elijah looked ready to lunge at her, but before he could reach her, she quickly hid behind Ethan.

I followed quietly behind them, holding the cake with both hands. The soft glow of the candles flickered with every step I took.

Ethan turned just in time to see me approaching. For a second, our eyes met—and everything else blurred into the background.

He smiled. It started small and hesitant, then grew wider and softer. That familiar smile that always carried warmth, even without words.

“Happy birthday,” I said, keeping my voice steady as I stopped in front of him.

He didn’t speak right away. He simply looked at the cake, then back at me, quiet gratitude shining in his eyes. “You did all this?”

“We all did,” I corrected gently, glancing at Elijah and Elise standing proudly beside him. “They worked really hard too.”

He nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

For a moment, everything felt still—the kind of peaceful stillness that hummed beneath soft light and laughter. Elise clapped her hands, urging him to blow out the candles. Ethan leaned closer to the cake, his face glowing warmly in the candlelight.

“Blow it,” I told him.

But as I stood there, the soft scent of melting wax mixing with sugar and anticipation, my gaze caught something else.

Just a few steps behind Ethan was Blake.

Still holding little Evan, smiling quietly. The picture looked almost too perfect—like they belonged together in that frame.

I blinked and forced myself to look away, adjusting my grip on the cake as if it had suddenly grown heavier.

“Make a wish, Kuya!” Elijah cheered, practically bouncing with excitement.

Ethan looked at all of us—his siblings, the decorations, the flickering candles—and for a split second, his eyes met mine again before he blew out the flames.

The room exploded into cheers and laughter. Elise jumped up and down, Elijah clapped wildly, and Ethan grinned from ear to ear.

And I smiled too—because I was supposed to.

A few minutes later, after the candles were blown out and slices of cake had been handed around, Ethan began looking around the room again. His gaze lingered on the wall where we had hung the photos.

He took slow steps toward it, his smile softening with every frame he passed.

“That’s the picture from last summer, Kuya,” Elijah said, pointing at the one where Elise was piggybacking on him.

“And this one,” Elise chimed in, “when we had ice cream and Evan smeared it all over your face.”

That was the day I had stayed over. It was almost 10 p.m., but Elijah had begged for ice cream. While we were quietly eating, Ethan’s son had a sudden burst of energy and started smearing chocolate ice cream all over his dad’s face. Ethan ended up looking like he had face-planted into mud.

Ethan chuckled and shook his head. “You really had to include that picture?”

“They did,” I said, crossing my arms. “I told them to choose whatever they wanted.”

His eyes stopped on one particular photo: a much younger Ethan standing on a chair, completely naked, proudly holding a half-eaten fried chicken.

His face turned red as he quickly snatched the picture and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Where did you get this?” he hissed at his younger siblings.

His glare only made Elijah and Elise burst into louder laughter before they ran away, their voices echoing through the house. I watched them, the way their smiles reached their eyes, how light and happy they looked even without anything extravagant.

And somehow, in that small moment, I realized… maybe you don’t need a luxurious life to be happy. Sometimes, this—the laughter, the warmth, the people you love—is already more than enough.

“Don’t worry, it’s cute,” I teased him, noticing his face was still flushed.

He shot me a dirty look. “Cute, your face.”

I held back a laugh. “I’m not lying. Based on how small you were, it’s cute.”

I quickly dodged as he tried to swat my arm.

“It’s not small!” he protested.

“To see is to believe,” I challenged.

“As if,” he shot back sarcastically.

“As i—”

My voice was cut off when Blake suddenly spoke.

“You look like you lost a war in this one,” he said, pointing to another photo where Ethan was mid-laugh with icing smeared on his cheek.

Ethan groaned. “That was your fault. That’s why I had icing on my face that day.”

Blake grinned, completely unbothered. “Totally worth it. You needed a little chaos.”

“Chaos is your specialty,” Ethan replied with a mock glare, though the corners of his lips were curving again.

“Admit it. I make things fun.”

Ethan rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Their laughter filled the room—light, easy, and natural. Elise and Elijah joined in even though they didn’t understand the joke. I stayed back, pretending to adjust a streamer that didn’t need fixing.

I should have been happy seeing him smile like that. I should have been. But for some reason, the sound of his laughter—shared with someone else—didn’t feel the same anymore.

Maybe it was the way they looked at each other. Or maybe it was the growing space between us every time he smiled at Blake that way.

I told myself it didn’t mean anything.

That I was just imagining it.

But a small, stubborn thought kept whispering in the back of my mind:

I should have been the one standing beside him.

The sound of knocking at the door broke the moment.

Almost everyone turned toward the entrance. Ethan and I exchanged surprised glances.

“I’ll get it,” I said quickly.

I hurried to the door, not wanting to interrupt whatever moment was happening between him and Blake.

When I opened it, three familiar faces greeted me—Angela, Caleb, and Yohan—each holding wrapped gifts.

I blinked. “What are you guys doing here?”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Elijah invited us!”

“Is this your house? Why do you look like you don’t want us here?” Caleb teased.

My eyes shifted to Yohan, who was standing beside him. It had been a while since I last saw him, but this wasn’t the right time to talk.

I turned toward the living room. “Elijah!”

“I invited them, Kuya Lucas!” he shouted back.

Angela crossed her arms and stepped inside. “You didn’t want us to come?”

“I didn’t say that,” I sighed.

“Why do you look so scared that we’re here?” Yohan added. “Afraid we’ll find out something?”

“Idiot,” I muttered, lightly smacking the back of his head.

I quickly stepped back when he pretended to retaliate.

“We brought gifts for Ethan,” Caleb said, trying to hand me the packages.

“Am I the birthday celebrant? Give them to the actual birthday boy, not me,” I snapped.

He tapped my arm. “Sorry, bro. I thought you were Ethan’s assistant.”

Angela and Yohan burst out laughing, so I shot Caleb an even darker glare.

“Chill, bro. That stare could kill,” Caleb said, leaning closer to whisper, “But if you’re really going to eat me alive, I like it rough,” followed by a wink.

I shivered in disgust. “Idiot. What do you think I am? Someone who hooks up with friends?”

Caleb and Angela laughed even harder. When I glanced at Yohan, his expression had suddenly soured. What’s his problem?

They finally stepped inside. The moment Ethan saw who had arrived, he left Blake at the table and walked over to us.

That’s right. Leave him and come to me.

“Thanks for coming,” Ethan said with a warm smile.

“Of course!” Angela grinned. “You’re my friend, so I had to be here.” She glanced at me. “Unlike some people who claim to be friends but act differently.”

She and Ethan laughed together while giving me a pointed look.

“For you,” Caleb said, handing over the three gifts.

Ethan chuckled. “You really didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to,” Caleb replied softly. “Happy birthday, Ethan.”

Ethan’s smile softened. “Thank you, Caleb.”

I noticed he was struggling to hold the gifts properly, so I stepped closer.

“Let me help you,” I said, reaching out to take them.

Before I could, another hand beat me to it.

“I got it, bro,” Blake said smoothly, already standing beside Ethan and taking the gifts from his hands.

Nice one. He’s really trying now.

“Such a gentleman, Blake. You two really look good together,” Angela gushed.

Gentleman? Just for taking gifts? That’s the new standard now?

“I could’ve done that too,” I muttered under my breath, then walked away to leave them there.

I sat heavily on the sofa and pulled out my phone to distract myself.

I searched the internet for the meaning of “gentleman.”

A gentleman is a man who behaves with kindness, respect, and courtesy toward others. He treats people politely, acts with honesty, and shows consideration for their feelings. Being a gentleman isn’t just about appearance or wealth—it’s about good character, responsibility, and treating others with dignity and respect.

I read it again and again. A smirk formed on my lips. Nowhere in the definition did it say a gentleman was someone who took gifts just because another person was struggling to hold them. That meant only one thing—he wasn’t a gentleman.

Later that evening, we all gathered around the table for dinner. The dining room buzzed with warmth and noise—utensils clinking against plates, bursts of laughter echoing off the walls, and the faint hum of the air conditioner fighting against the heat from the food and the crowd.

Ethan sat between me and Blake—of course he did.

Angela and Caleb sat across from us. Elise squeezed in beside Elijah, and Yohan took the end seat, half-joking while keeping an eye on everyone’s glasses to prevent another juice disaster.

Evan had already fallen asleep after being hyper earlier. Even Yohan looked exhausted from chasing the little boy around.

I turned when Angela spoke.

“Ethan, you need to try this,” she said, smiling as she placed a piece of shrimp on his plate.

“Thanks,” he replied calmly.

“Don’t forget this one. You liked it last time,” Blake added, serving buttered vegetables onto Ethan’s plate. His arm brushed against Ethan’s, and I caught the faint smirk on his lips.

Before I could stop myself, I reached forward to get some grilled meat. As I placed it on Ethan’s plate, my fingers accidentally brushed against his hand.

We both froze.

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to stop—the laughter, the clinking utensils, even the soft hum of conversation. Ethan’s eyes lifted to meet mine. There was that familiar flicker again—soft, unsure, and far too intimate.

Then Blake’s voice cut through. “Careful, Lucas,” he said smoothly, his smile sharp. “Wouldn’t want to overcrowd his plate.”

I let out a heavy sigh. He had been provoking me all night. Even if he was courting Ethan, I didn’t care. If I couldn’t hold myself back, there was definitely going to be trouble tonight.

I forced a laugh even though I was already annoyed. “I’m just making sure he actually eats. He skips meals when no one’s watching.”

Blake tilted his head, his calm tone hiding something underneath. “Really? I didn’t notice. He seems to eat just fine when I’m around.”

My jaw tightened. He’s really testing me.

“Calm down, both of you,” Yohan interrupted, glancing at Ethan. “Ethan can eat by himself, right?” he asked meaningfully.

Ethan nodded shyly. “Of course.”

The table erupted into laughter. Caleb grinned. “See? Then you two can just fight over me instead.”

“I’ll feed you,” Yohan joked.

Laughter filled the table until it was suddenly cut short by a cough.

Ethan froze, one hand clutching his throat as his face turned red.

“Ethan!” I blurted out, instantly grabbing a can of soft drink from the table. I cracked it open, bubbles spilling over my fingers as I held it out to him.

At the same time, Blake leaned forward, offering a glass of water.

Ethan blinked, looking between my hand and Blake’s—first the can, then the glass. His eyes flickered between the two of us, hesitation clear on his face, as if choosing one meant something more than just a drink.

The air grew thick and awkward. My hand remained extended, but I could feel Blake’s steady presence beside him.

“He’s not drinking soft drinks,” Blake said.

Finally, Ethan took a breath and reached out—his fingers brushing past mine before wrapping around the glass Blake was holding.

I quickly pulled my hand back, forcing a small smile even as something inside my chest stung sharply.

“Thanks,” Ethan rasped, sipping carefully.

Blake simply nodded, his eyes fixed on him.

I looked away, pretending to focus on my food, but my mind was stuck on that moment—on the choice Ethan had made.

I was the first to finish eating, though it didn’t really feel like I had eaten at all. My plate was empty, but my thoughts were full.

The air around the table felt heavier than before, and I couldn’t sit there any longer. I mumbled something about needing fresh air and slipped outside.

The night was calm—the kind of quiet that made the world feel too still for the chaos inside my head. I leaned against my car, tilting my head back to stare at the stars barely visible through the clouds.

It should have been peaceful. Instead, my thoughts kept circling back to the fizz of the drink on my fingers, to Ethan’s hand brushing past mine, and to the glass of water that wasn’t mine.

The sound of the door opening behind me broke the silence.

I knew someone was approaching but didn’t turn around.

“Lucas,” Ethan said softly.

It felt like electricity shot through me at the gentle way he called my name.

I turned and forced a smile. “Hey. Finished eating already?”

He only nodded in response and sat in the empty space beside me.

“You okay? Why did you suddenly leave?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah. I just needed some air. I think my brain is overheating.”

With how close we were sitting, my confusion only grew worse. I knew he was looking straight at me, so I didn’t turn toward him, afraid I might do something I shouldn’t.

“From what?”

I shrugged. “From everything. From nothing. I don’t even know.”

Silence settled between us. I could hear nothing but his soft breathing.

I closed my eyes, trying to recall what Kuya had told me:
“If you ever start to feel something—whoever it’s for—you don’t need to rush to define it. You don’t need to force yourself to understand everything right away. Feelings make sense in their own time.”

Shouldn’t I take it slow? But what if I was already too late? What if I ended up like TJ, only realizing everything when it was too late? If I missed my chance, would there still be something to go back to?

What if Kuya was right? Maybe I really needed time to be sure about what I was feeling.

“God,” I muttered under my breath, gripping a fistful of my hair. “What is wrong with me?”

The frustration burned in my chest and spilled over. I tugged harder, desperate to stop thinking, stop feeling, stop everything—

“Lucas!”

A sharp voice cut through the chaos in my head.

I froze.

Before I could blink, Ethan was right there—standing in front of me, his hand gripping my wrist, stopping me from pulling at my hair again.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked calmly.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe.

He was so close—too close—his face only inches from mine. His hair was slightly messy in that effortless way, as if the wind had styled it perfectly.

His eyes… God, his eyes. They weren’t sharp this time. They were worried. Warm.

There was a tiny crease between his brows, like he was holding back from saying more.

I could feel the heat radiating from him, the faint scent of his perfume blending with the cool night air.

And suddenly, everything inside me stopped fighting.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t look at me like that.”

Ethan blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you actually care,” I whispered.

His grip on my wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go.

He just stood there—close enough that I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, the way his breath mingled with the cool air between us.

I should have looked away.

But I didn’t.

There was something almost unreal about the moment—the kind of face you might mistake for calm when, in truth, so much was happening beneath the surface. His lashes cast faint shadows on his skin. His hair fell slightly over his forehead, tousled by the night wind.

And his eyes… They weren’t just brown. They held a quiet warmth, like melted amber—something that could pull you in without even trying.

He looked worried. Still holding my wrist as if I might do something reckless if he let go. But it wasn’t the worry that caught me. It was how gentle it looked on him. How human. How close.

And maybe that was what finally broke me.

Because standing there, watching him frown in that soft, almost angelic way, I realized there was no point in pretending anymore.

Maybe it was better to start the process early. Maybe facing it sooner would help me more. I was more afraid of reaching a day when I would regret not trying sooner.

“Ethan…” I breathed his name before I could stop myself.

He blinked, his eyes locking with mine. “Hmm?”

“I—” My throat tightened, the words caught between fear and truth. “I like you.”

He frowned slightly, confusion flashing across his eyes.