[Ovelia's POV]
Ace and I continued to walk, but the comfortable silence from before had turned heavy and strange. I had finished the last sweet, sticky bite of the puto bumbong, but he hadn't said a word. He just kept walking a half-step ahead of me, his gaze fixed forward, never glancing back to check on me. The distance between us, though small, felt like a growing chasm.
My fingers rose to touch the red rose hairpin he had bought for me, its cool metal a small comfort. I took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm the sudden, irrational flutter of anxiety in my chest.
"Ace?" I ventured, my voice small against the festival's noise. "Should we try to find the others now?"
He didn't respond. He didn't even turn his head. My chest tightened.
