In the Radio Station
The dim glow of studio lights reflected off the soundboard as Venice adjusted the levels, prepping for the new YMZ Radio program, Stories from Vanity Scarlett, hosted by Jessica under her on-air persona, Miss Vanity Scarlett.
Venice glanced at Jessica, who was nervously skimming through letters. "Jessica, have you read the stories already?"
Jessica nodded, gripping the papers. "Yes, Ma'am Venice. I've got them all, and I think I'm ready."
Venice gave an approving smile. "Good. Wilbert, cue Jessica's intro right after this song ends."
A smooth R&B track faded out, replaced by Wilbert's deep, charismatic voice booming through the speakers:
"THAT SONG WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY DONKY DAKNATS—ANG PABORITONG PAMPASALUBONG NG BAYAN!"
A beat of silence, then—
"AVID LISTENERS OF YMZ RADIO, WE'RE LAUNCHING A BRAND-NEW PROGRAM TONIGHT! PLEASE WELCOME YOUR HOST, THE RADIANT, THE ELEGANT… MISS VANITY SCARLETT!" (Drumroll sound effect) "THIS IS… STORIES FROM VANITY SCARLETT!"
Jessica exhaled, leaning into the mic.
"Good evening, beautiful souls. Time check—it's 6 PM, and this is your host, Miss Vanity Scarlett. Welcome to Stories from Vanity Scarlett, where we unravel the tangled threads of love, heartbreak, and everything in between."
She paused, letting the intro sink in.
"Tonight's story comes from a listener named Danna. Let's hear what she has to say."
Jessica Reads the Letter
"Dear Miss Vanity Scarlett,
My name is Danna Yu. I'm 22, a working student in my third year of college. I have a problem—one that's haunted me for years. And now that it's finally over… I don't know why it's still haunting me.
Ever since high school, there's been this guy—let's call him Mark—who never took 'no' for an answer. At first, it was almost sweet. Notes in my locker. 'Accidental' meetups at the bus stop. But over time, it became suffocating. Every time I saw him, my stomach twisted. His persistence wasn't devotion—it was obsession.
Last week, I snapped. He cornered me outside the library with yet another bouquet (who even does that in real life?), and I finally yelled, loud enough for everyone to hear: 'I will NEVER like you back! Move on!'
The look on his face… I almost felt guilty. Almost.
Now? Silence. No texts. No awkward run-ins. Nothing. And I should be relieved, right? This is what I wanted. But instead, I keep looking over my shoulder, half-expecting him to be there. The absence feels… wrong. Like a song cut off mid-chorus. Why does this bother me so much? What's wrong with me?
— Danna"
Jessica set the letter down, her voice softening.
"We'll answer Danna's dilemma right after this song. Stay tuned."
(A smooth transition into a melancholic ballad plays.)
Miss Vanity's Response
When the music faded, Jessica's tone was warm but firm.
"Danna, first—you're not alone. Many women have felt this way. That guilt? That confusion? It doesn't mean you secretly liked him. It means you're human."
A thoughtful pause.
"But let's be real: Sincerity doesn't excuse persistence when it crosses into discomfort. You set a boundary, and that's brave. His silence now? That's respect—finally. Maybe what you're feeling isn't missing him… but missing the certainty of knowing where he stood, even if it was unwanted."
She leaned closer to the mic.
"My advice? Breathe. Enjoy the peace. And if he truly changed, good. But if he comes back? Stand your ground. You owe him nothing."
Closing the Show
After playing a few listener-requested songs, Jessica wrapped up.
"That's all for tonight, darlings. Remember—love shouldn't feel like a chase. It should feel like coming home. This is Miss Vanity Scarlett, signing off."
The ON AIR light dimmed.
After the Broadcast
Venice grinned, pulling off her headphones. "That was a solid first show, Jessica."
Jessica slumped in her chair, laughing. "Whew. I thought I was gonna fumble!"
Wilbert chuckled. "Nah, you owned it. Danna's gonna replay that advice ten times tonight."
Jessica smiled, finally relaxing. "Hope it helped her… and anyone else who's ever felt trapped by someone else's 'love.'"
Venice pulled her into a sudden hug, laughing. "And that's a wrap on your first show! Now, let's get you home—and while we're at it, let's check on what that idiot Percy's up to."
Jessica grinned. "I'm really thankful for this opportunity, Ma'am Venice."
---
Percy's Apartment – A Surprise Visit
The gate was unlocked—Percy had expected Jessica to be late. As Venice and Jessica crept upstairs, the aroma of garlic and cream wafted through the hallway. Then… they heard it.
The smooth R&B vocals of Wheesung.
Peering through the kitchen window, they froze at the sight: Percy, spatula in hand, hips swaying with chef-like precision as he belted out high notes while stirring a pan of pasta.
Venice's eyes gleamed. She whipped out her phone. "Oh, this is going straight to the family group chat."
Jessica, despite herself, stared—transfixed by the way Percy's ridiculous shoulder shimmy somehow worked with the melody.
Venice side-eyed her, then pinched her ear hard.
"OW! What was that for?!" Jessica yelped, clutching her ear.
"Snap out of it, hija! You're staring like he's a steak and you've been fasting for a month,"* Venice teased.
Jessica's face burned. "I was not—"
THUD. Percy had spun around, nearly flinging sauce everywhere. "WHAT THE—VENICE?! And Jessica?!"*
Venice waved her recording phone like a trophy. "Hello, brother~ Who knew you had moves like Jagger?"
Percy groaned, wiping his hands on his apron. "Why are you here? And Jessica—why are you with this witch?"
Venice sauntered in, sniffing the air. "Ah, so this is where my little Ramoncito got his rhythm. Were you dancing like this while babysitting him too?" She poked the simmering pan. "What's this? Smells dangerously good."
Percy shrugged, but his grin was smug. "Just tuna Alfredo. Made extra since Jessica works late now." He glanced at the mountain of pasta. "…You two wanna stay for dinner? No way we're finishing this alone."
Jessica hesitated, but Venice was already grabbing plates. "Oh, we're staying. This is the best entertainment I've had all week."
Percy shot Jessica a look—half exasperated, half amused—as she stifled a laugh. The music still played, and somehow, the kitchen felt warmer than before.
Dinner Revelations
The creamy tuna Alfredo clung perfectly to the fork as Jessica took another bite, savoring the rich, garlicky flavor. She couldn't help but glance at Percy, who was sheepishly pushing a mushroom around his plate.
"This is incredible," Venice mumbled through a mouthful, pointing her fork at him. "Why don't you cook like this all the time? You've been living off cup noodles since college."
Jessica swallowed, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, seriously. I've been cooking for you for days—had I known you could do this, I'd have made you handle the meals."
Percy's ears turned pink. "I—It's just… lazy, I guess."
Venice snorted. "Lazy? You memorized the entire Gray's Anatomy textbook in two weeks, but boiling pasta is too much effort?"
Jessica leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. "No, there's more to it. Spill."
Percy exhaled, rubbing his neck. "Fine. Cooking's… kinda nostalgic for me. My dad used to make this dish when I was a kid. After he passed, I tried replicating it. Took me years to get it right." He shrugged. "Now I only make it when I'm… I dunno. When it feels right."
A hush fell over the table. Jessica's teasing smirk softened. She'd known Percy for years, yet this was the first time he'd mentioned his father.
Venice, ever the disruptor of heavy moments, flicked a crumb at him. "So you can be sentimental. Who knew?"
Percy rolled his eyes, but Jessica caught the way his thumb traced the edge of his plate—a nervous habit she'd seen whenever he was avoiding deeper emotions.
"Still," Jessica said, deliberately lightening the mood, "you're banned from my kitchen if you're just gonna hoard skills like some culinary dragon."
Percy grinned. "Noted. But you're still on dish duty."
Venice clapped her hands. "Oh! Speaking of hoarding—Percy, can I take some of this home for Mom? She'll die if she finds out you cooked this without her."
"Sure," Percy said, standing to fetch a container. "Just don't tell her I used canned tuna. She'll disown me."
As he moved to the counter, Jessica studied him—the ease in his shoulders, the quiet focus as he portioned the pasta. Venice nudged her foot under the table.
"You're staring again," Venice sing-songed.
Jessica kicked her back. "Am not."
"Uh-huh." Venice smirked. "You know, before Mr. Chef over there became a hermit, he was gonna be a doctor. Top of his class, too."
Percy stiffened, the lid halfway on the container. "Venice."
"What? It's true!" Venice turned to Jessica. "Then some girl wrecked his focus, and he dropped out. Dramatic exit, white coat flung into the sunset—"
"It wasn't just about her," Percy interrupted, voice tight. "I had my reasons."
Jessica frowned. She'd heard whispers about Percy quitting med school, but never the full story. The way his jaw clenched now, though—it wasn't just heartbreak. It was guilt.
Venice, sensing the tension, backtracked. "Anyway. Mom'll love this." She stood, snagging the container. "I'm gonna go before you two start communicating like adults." She winked at Jessica and flounced out, leaving silence in her wake.
Percy exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. "She's insufferable."
Jessica hesitated, then stood to help him clear the table. "For the record… you are cute when you're flustered."
Percy nearly dropped the plates. *"Wh—You're teasing me now? After that?"
Jessica laughed, bumping his shoulder with hers. "Yep. And you're stuck with it."
For the first time that night, Percy's smile reached his eyes.