You're Making Me Crazy, Professor [COMPLETED]

Nandito na kami sa movie theater. I'm still pretending na okay lang ako, kahit deep down, I'm not. Ang hirap magkunwaring masaya, lalo na't paulit-ulit na bumabalik sa isip ko 'yung nakita ko kanina. It's already 7 PM, and after this movie, saka pa lang kami kakain ng dinner.

As we walked inside the theater, I glanced at her. She looked so calm... so unaffected.

"Have you ever watched Miracle in Cell No. 7?" I asked, trying to sound casual habang hinahanap namin ang upuan namin.

She shook her head. "No."

We sat down, and she looked around, curious.

"It's a Korean movie. 'Yan 'yung papanoorin natin ngayon," I said, trying to sound excited. "Masaya raw 'yan eh. Nakita ko sa Facebook, parang feel-good movie daw."

She raised an eyebrow and gave me a suspicious look. "Hm, really? Sounds like it's not," she said with a slight smirk.

"Yan nga nakita ko sa Facebook eh. Parang masaya naman," I insisted. Kasi totoo naman, mukha naman talagang masaya.

She just nodded and leaned back in her seat. I stared at the screen habang nagsisimula na 'yung trailers, pero hindi ko talaga makuha 'yung focus ko. Her question suddenly broke the silence.

"Are you okay? You're unusually quiet today."

I froze for a second, forcing a smile habang tinitingnan siya sa gilid ng mata ko. How would I be okay? After what I saw kanina-after seeing her with him?

"Of course, I am," I lied, my voice soft. "I'm with you eh."

Sinabayan ko ng pilit na ngiti, hoping she wouldn't notice the pain behind it.

She turned to me and smiled. "Silly," she said, chuckling a little before looking back at the screen.

I smiled, too, but deep down, ang bigat-bigat ng dibdib ko. Kasi habang nandito kami, habang magkatabi kami, habang pinapanood namin 'tong movie na dapat masaya-ang totoo, I'm barely holding it together.

After waiting the movie to start, some couple started kissing in front of us kaya napalunok ako. It was not just a peek kiss, but like with a tounge.

As soon as I saw the couple going at it like they were in their own private motel room, I leaned slightly toward Cynthia, pretending like I didn't see anything. Pero siyempre, nakita ko. Lahat. Including how his hand was going places na parang hindi na pang-MTRCB.

Cynthia leaned toward me too, whispering, "Do you think we'll get a live demonstration of the birds and the bees before the trailers even start?"

I snorted. "Mukhang may bayad 'to, ha. Baka 'di natin kailangan ng pelikula."

She chuckled, then rested her head lightly on my shoulder. "The movie hasn't even started yet, but there's already kissing in front of us."

"Gawin din natin?" biro ko kaya nakakuha ako ng hampas sakanya.

‎The lights dimmed, and the chatter in the theater faded to a hush as the screen lit up with the opening credits of Miracle in Cell No. 7. I could feel Cynthia shift beside me, her head still lightly resting on my shoulder, her fingers occasionally brushing against mine on the shared armrest.
‎
‎I stayed quiet.
‎
‎Partly because I was pretending to be okay. Mostly because I didn't trust myself to speak without sounding like I was breaking.
‎
‎The film started cheerfully enough-soft, silly scenes of a father and daughter, their routine, their small joys. Yong-gu, the father, had this childlike innocence that made everyone in the theater laugh almost immediately. He reminded me of that one tito who never outgrew knock-knock jokes.
‎
‎The little girl, Ye-seung, was sharp and affectionate. "They are cute," she whisper.
‎
‎I nodded, smiling, letting the laughter warm my chest for a while.
‎
‎But it didn't take long before the tone shifted. One moment, we were watching them chase bubbles in the street. The next, Yong-gu was being accused of something terrible-something we, the audience, knew he didn't do.
‎
‎"Wait, what?" Cynthia whispered, sitting up straighter. "Is this still a comedy?"
‎
‎I didn't answer. My throat was already tight.
‎
‎Inside the movie, everything started to crumble. Yong-gu, confused and frightened, was dragged into custody. The officers didn't care that he didn't understand. That he kept asking where his daughter was. That he didn't know how the world worked the way others did.
‎
‎People around us were sniffing. Quietly, steadily.
‎
‎Cynthia reached over and held my hand again, tighter this time.
‎
‎By the time the movie reached the part where Yong-gu was assigned to Cell No. 7, I could feel the tension in the theater shift into something collective and unspoken-like everyone was preparing to grieve, they just didn't know when it would hit.
‎
‎But me?
‎
‎I was already there.
‎
‎The cellmates who once mocked Yong-gu started to soften toward him. They learned about his daughter, about how much he loved her, how much he missed her. And somehow, impossibly, they smuggled little Ye-seung into the prison. A miracle in itself.
‎
‎I smiled. A real one. Watching her run to her father's arms inside that cramped, gray cell-it felt like a win. A small, stolen moment of joy. Cynthia wiped her eyes beside me.
‎
‎Then came the scene where Ye-seung brought a school bag for her father, pretending to teach him how to read and write. Para makapasa siya sa exam.
‎
‎I started to cry, quiet and steady.
‎
‎Cynthia rubbed small circles into the back of my hand, her thumb gentle and grounding. I didn't look at her. I couldn't. The tears kept falling, and the story kept unraveling.
‎
‎The courtroom scenes were the worst. Yong-gu, confused, scared, tricked into confessing. His cellmates devastated, helpless. His daughter trying to understand something no child should have to.
‎
‎The stranger beside Cynthia-some guy in a business shirt and loosened tie-was now full-on sobbing, muttering things like, "Wala na bang hustisya sa mundo?" and "Ang bata pa ng anak niya, Lord!"
‎
‎Cynthia handed him a tissue wordlessly, and he took it with a grateful sniffle. "Salamat," he choked out, dramatically. "Hindi ko na kaya 'to."
‎
‎Same, kuya. Same.
‎
‎Then the scene came. The final goodbyes.
‎
‎The way Yong-gu gave his daughter his favorite balloon. The way he tried to smile for her, like everything was okay. The way she was dragged from the room screaming for her papa while he tried not to cry.
‎
‎I didn't bother wiping my face anymore. I just let it happen.
‎
‎"Don't look at me," Cynthia whispered with a cracking voice, clearly crying too. "I'm ugly crying."
‎
‎"Me too," I whispered back, laughing a little between sniffles.
‎
‎The music swelled. The verdict was read. And then, the most silent moment in the entire theater.
‎
‎The execution.
‎
‎The screen went dark.
‎
‎Someone in the back whispered, "Putangina naman."
‎
‎And honestly? Valid.
‎
‎The movie flashed forward to years later. Ye-seung, now an adult, standing in court. Confident. Brave. Fighting for the truth. Fighting for her father's name. For his innocence.
‎
‎I cried harder.
‎
‎As the credits rolled, the theater remained quiet. Like everyone was trying to recover from emotional whiplash. Even the guy with the loosened tie was now using his shirt sleeve as backup tissue. Someone behind us muttered, "Akala ko feel-good movie 'to. Bakit ganito?"
‎
‎I turned to Cynthia, eyes puffy, nose red. "Facebook lied to me."
‎
‎"Facebook destroyed me," she said, wiping her cheeks. "I thought this was gonna be cute."
‎
‎"We got scammed by a thumbnail."
‎
‎"I was just trying to watch something light after exams!" I cried dramatically, which made her laugh even though I was still crying.
‎
‎The man beside her suddenly joined our conversation like we were old friends. "Grabe 'no? Pero ang ganda. Pero masakit. Pero ang ganda. Pero ayoko na."