Myka's reflection stares back at her in the mirror and winces. Sunken eyes, ghostly dull complexion? She looks depleted, but it's that time of the month. No, it's unrelated to biology, the hormonal fluctuations she wishes she could blame. This is far worse and more demanding than that (at least in Myka's opinion).

What's enfolding her with trepidation is the looming family meeting she's obligated to attend every so often.

Another night of treading carefully.

With heavy footsteps, she makes her way to her car. Just as she reaches for the ignition, her phone dings. Katie. A distraction.

Or a potential lifeline.

Yes, they have been texting like normal girlfriends. Katie makes sure of it. Every message is a reminder:

Myka's lips flatten. Boring? If only. That doesn't even encapsulate what's waiting for her, but Katie doesn't need to know the details.

That text earns a small mile. For fun, she sends the address, connects her phone to the car's Bluetooth, and off she drives into the late afternoon traffic.

Minutes later, she reaches her eldest brother Philip's restaurant. Her pulse drums with every step, sheens of sweat accumulating on her forehead.

She quietly slides into a seat at the far end of a massive ten-person table, already occupied by three generations of the de la Cruzes. No one acknowledges her—except for Arlo, her six-year-old nephew. Unfortunately, in Myka's view, he's the only reasonable member of the family. An ally, even.

"Hello, Tita," he says solemnly, leaning over to give her a hug.

"Hello," she says, patting his back kindly. She fumbles with her napkin awkwardly and then waves her hand to the server. "Can I get a glass of red wine please?"

If tonight is anything like the last family dinner, she'll need it. Survival mode has been activated.

"Fashionably late, as usual," Henry, the patriarch of the family, remarks.

She glances at her watch. "Or you're all just early... it's 6:15. We said 6:30."

Bianca, the second oldest, a cardiologist and Arlo's mother, shakes her head. Myka shrugs it off. She's seen it too many times to care.

Myka, the youngest sibling. The black sheep.

Never mind the law degree; she barely finished law school. Never mind the prestigious law firm; her last name got her in. There's always something missing, a standard that she fails to meet.

The dishes arrive, and for once, she's grateful to be there. Philip's restaurant specializes in Asian fusion, specifically Korean and Japanese cuisines. If not for the food—this dinner's only saving grace—she might have already bolted.

At least she won't have to stay there hungry.

Myka grabs a bit of everything, pieces of sushi rolls and sashimi, then ladles herself a generous serving of kimchi jigae, her favorite out of what's been served. Across the table, Bianca sighs, judgment unmistakable.

Then comes the inevitable. "Myka, shouldn't you be watching what you eat?" her mother, Sylvia, comments.

Once upon a time, that sentence ruined her appetite. Not for that specific moment, but for a long time. She watched what she ate. She calculated her calorie intake.

She starved.

As a growing woman in high school, Myka put herself on a strict diet, and she ended up collapsing in Physical Education class. Her parents got her confined in the hospital, stayed until she was stable, but they never brought it up.

So, she said nothing, too.

It didn't take long before she realized her place in the family. Like Joaquin, it was all blind dates and appearances. Keeping herself in check. This shared experience is the reason why she'd gravitated toward him at first. He understood the script and was kind, even if he was never truly interested in romance (with her).

"Yeah, I should," she replies, gripping her spoon a little tighter and taking another bite. "Once I hit your age, for sure. Y'know, cholesterol and all that. Right, Ate Bianca?"

"Myka," Philip warns. His wife, Colleen, distracts their two young kids, possibly so they wouldn't learn to talk back like her.

"Kidding! I'm kidding," she mutters, shoving another spoonful of tofu into her mouth.

"You should use that wit to win your cases," Henry says, voice gruff. The air shifts, the tone sending the table into silence. Even the children stop fidgeting.

"I heard one of your cross-examinations was a disaster."

The back of Myka's eyes burn. She keeps chewing as nausea rises. She's feeling sick. That's a new record, though. It's been about thirty minutes, longer than last time.

Myka sips her wine and signals the waiter over to refill her glass.

No one speaks. Just the clatter of utensils against plates.

Then, footsteps approach them. Heads turn to the unexpected visitor.

"Ah, here's my new head chef," Philip announces, standing up and resting a hand on the man's shoulder. "This is Liam. Liam, meet my family. My mother, father, my sister, Bianca, her husband, John, and their kids... you already know my wife and son." He gestures toward Myka albeit hesitantly. "My youngest sister."

"Hello," Liam greets, then makes small talk about the dinner's recipe. Myka nods along, half-listening, though she can feel her mother side-eyeing her.

Once Liam vanishes into the kitchen, Sylvia speaks, "He looks decent. Is he single?"

"He is," Philip answers.

Myka's breathing hitches.

"Set him up with Myka."

Myka takes a slow slip, her knees bouncing under the table. "I respectfully decline. Thank you, though."

Henry raises his head from his plate, forehead creased. "Why? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No, but—"

"Myka, you're almost 30," Bianca chimes in, casually wiping her kid's mouth with a napkin.

Myka hisses, "Wow, really? Had no idea."

She's not rejecting Liam; she's simply sparing the man's ass from this circus.

"If you're aware, you should also know that you don't have enough time to fool around. You have to settle down."

Rage boils inside Myka that she can only see red. It's too much. Every single part of her life is constantly dissected, every single one of her blood poking their nose into her business. And they don't do this out of love. They never do.

Her phone vibrates, and a quick glimpse at the text preview makes her smile.

"It's okay," she replies smoothly. "I don't need time."

She types the keyword and presses send.

Immediately, the family catches a subtle scent of orange blossom. Myka flings her purse over her shoulder.

"This was lovely... and enlightening," Myka says, standing. "I gotta go." She shoots Arlo a smile. "See you, bud."

Philip questions sharply, "Where do you think you're going? Dinner's not over."

Myka extends an arm to welcome Katie, all dressed up in an elegant jumpsuit and high ponytail. "My girlfriend's here."

The whole table freezes,  excluding the children who have no idea what is happening. A wave of content washes over Myka as their eyes dart between her and Katie.

"Hello," Katie mutters, stepping forward. "Katie Valdez. Nice to meet you."

"Katie Valdez?" Bianca echoes. "As in Luminous Cosmetics?"

"That's me," she answers, flicking her hair.

"Yeah. So, uh, bye," Myka says quickly, dragging Katie with her to the exit. Katie tosses one last amused glance over her shoulder at the speechless table.

Myka lets go of Katie's arm, the knots in her stomach finally fraying and easing her breathing flow.

Katie grins. "So... You introduced me as a 'girlfriend'? Bold move. Aren't you afraid they'd get the wrong idea?"

"Doesn't matter."

Katie huffs, "Works for me."

Eye rolling, Myka retorts, "Yeah, you really sold the whole 'totally indifferent' act this time around. Great work."

"Act? Sweetheart, that wasn't acting."

Myka can't contain the wide smile that sneaks onto her face. It's refreshing that she has someone on her team who isn't still losing baby teeth.

Halfway to the car, Myka slows. "Hold up. How'd you get here so fast?"

"I was here the whole time."

Myka stops in her tracks. "You're joking. The whole time?"

Katie lays her palm. "Yeah, which is why I know you shouldn't be driving. Give me your keys."

The fact that Katie had heard all the scathing remarks hurled against her stings, but Myka still drops her keys into her palm and climbs into the passenger seat.

Katie adjusts the mirrors, selects a radio channel, and drives onto the road, her expression neutral. A resting-bitch-face.

Myka looks out the window, drained but happy to have fled the dinner. She'll worry about it next time.

"Sorry you had to listen to all that."

"Sorry you had to," Katie snorts. A beat. Then, she adds, "Although the Liam guy isn't bad looking."

Myka scoffs, "Thought you only liked girls?"

"I've got eyes," she replies, casting a glimpse at Myka's way before changing lanes. "But seriously... It takes a lot of guts to say no to family. You grow up thinking they have your best interests at heart. And when they drill that into you enough times... you'd fool yourself into believing them. Even if it hurts."

Myka's throat tightens, her chin quivering as she strives to keep her tears at bay.

"You're getting all poetic on me," she whispers, hoping to shift the mood. "Wait... where are we going?"

"Where do you wanna go?"

Myka exhales, "Somewhere quiet."

"Okay." Katie taps the wheel, considering. "Somewhere quiet it is."

******

A/N: Celebrating women who choose not to bend because of societal norms. Belated happy international women's day, amigas. Cheers!