“HOW are you, Chef Vincent Del Carmen?”

Randy greeted warmly, his voice echoing with an unmistakable enthusiasm as he stepped into Vincent’s condominium. The space exuded an air of sophistication, with its sleek, modern design. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in natural light, illuminating the minimalist furniture and pristine kitchen countertops—a setup that perfectly reflected Vincent’s meticulous personality.

Randy’s wide smile and relaxed posture seemed almost out of place in the immaculate setting, a stark contrast to the intensity of his old friend’s world.

It was a rare occasion to see Randy after so many years. Once upon a time, they had shared a cramped dorm room during their university days in America, where the chaos of student life had forced their contrasting personalities into an unlikely friendship. Their time as roommates had lasted barely six months, cut short when their schedules began pulling them in different directions.

Randy had been the life of the party, full of spontaneity and charm, while Vincent, already showing signs of his culinary brilliance, had been focused and disciplined, often found perfecting recipes late into the night. Over the years, life happened—careers, relationships, and silence. It was only recently, in the serendipitous glow of a bar in Makati, that they had run into each other. A chance encounter after nearly a decade had rekindled their camaraderie, giving them this unexpected second chapter as friends.

“I’m good, actually,” Vincent replied, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned casually against the kitchen counter.

His piercing gaze held a playful glint, the same one Randy remembered from their younger days when Vincent would challenge him in debates over the most trivial matters.

“I heard you’re getting married?” he teased, raising a brow and folding his arms across his chest.

His tone was light, but there was a trace of curiosity, a subtle invitation for Randy to share the details of the life he had been building since they had last seen each other.

For a moment, the room felt filled with the echoes of their shared past—memories of late-night talks, laughter, and the occasional clash of their polar opposite natures. Now, older and wiser, their friendship had evolved, yet the essence of their bond remained, rooted in the familiarity of shared history and the promise of rediscovered connection.

Randy chuckled lightly as he grabbed the wine bottle from the counter, the soft clink of glass echoing in the otherwise quiet room. The deep red liquid swirled inside the glass, catching the light as he poured them both generous servings. He raised his glass slightly toward Vincent with a playful smile, before taking a sip. There was an unexpected sincerity in his voice when he spoke, one that seemed to linger in the air long after the words left his mouth.

“Believe it or not, Vincent, I think I’ve found the one.”

Vincent, who had been leaning casually against the counter, froze for just a moment, his senses alert to the shift in Randy’s tone. It was different—deeper, more serious than the carefree, teasing manner he had grown used to over the years. This was something Vincent wasn’t prepared for.

He studied his old friend intently, trying to read the expression on his face for any signs of the usual playfulness. But there was nothing. Randy’s face was calm, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance, as if the words had left his mouth with the kind of finality that spoke of certainty.

The one? Vincent’s mind raced, caught in a swirl of disbelief. The Randy he remembered was anything but the settling-down type. Back in their college days, he had been a notorious ladies’ man, effortlessly flitting from one woman to the next without a care. Commitment, for Randy, had been a laughable concept, one he had expertly avoided. And now he’s talking about the one? The realization caught Vincent off guard, and for a split second, his thoughts scrambled to reconcile the Randy of old with the man standing before him.

He suppressed a laugh, shaking his head slightly as he took a sip of his wine. The smooth red liquid slid over his tongue, but the taste barely registered. His attention was still on Randy, who now stood in front of him, looking serious in a way that was almost unnerving.

“Well, miracles do happen,” Vincent quipped, his voice light, teasing, but the edge of surprise lingered in his tone.

His eyes twinkled with mischief as he swirled the wine in his glass, trying to keep the conversation from taking a too somber turn.

But Randy didn’t flinch at the jest. Instead, he shrugged, his expression unmoved, and his voice grew softer, more resolute.

“Maybe,” he said, his words carrying weight, as if each syllable had been carefully chosen. “But this time, I’m serious. I’ll do whatever it takes to win her trust.”

There was a firmness to his tone now, something Vincent hadn’t expected from the man who had always bounced from one thrill to the next. This wasn’t the same Randy who had laughed off commitments, whose relationships had been fleeting and without depth. No, this Randy was different, and the quiet determination in his eyes spoke volumes.

Vincent studied him carefully, the gears in his mind turning as he tried to make sense of this shift in his old friend. Something had changed, something fundamental that Vincent couldn’t quite place. This Randy wasn’t the man he had known during their college days. This Randy was grounded, focused, and sincere in a way that felt foreign but not unwelcome. The realization settled into Vincent’s chest, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty filling the space between them. What had happened to Randy in the years they had been apart? And more importantly, what was it about this woman that had him so determined to change?

Vincent’s eyes lingered on Randy for a moment longer before he found his voice, unsure of what to say next. The words were heavy on his tongue, caught between disbelief and a reluctant curiosity. This conversation was no longer the easy camaraderie of old friends, the banter and teasing that had always flowed so naturally between them. No, this was something deeper, something Vincent couldn’t quite grasp, but which made him pause and reassess the man standing before him. Randy, the man who had once epitomized carefree living, had transformed before his very eyes.

Vincent leaned back slightly, his posture shifting as a shadow crossed his face. The lightness he had once carried with him seemed to dissipate, replaced by something darker—something he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge in years. Trust. The word echoed in his mind like a distant echo from a past he’d long tried to forget.

It was a word that had lost its meaning for him a long time ago, replaced by the sharp sting of betrayal and the bitter taste of abandonment. Relationships for Vincent had always been a game, one he played with caution, never getting too close, never giving more than was necessary. One-night stands, fleeting encounters—those were the things he knew best. He didn’t have room for anything deeper. Love? That door had been slammed shut years ago, locked away and hidden beneath layers of emotional armor.

The sharp sting of a memory—a lover’s betrayal, a broken heart—pulsed in his chest, threatening to break through the walls he’d built around himself. He pushed the thoughts away with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, forcing himself to refocus on Randy.

The man in front of him was determined, serious, in a way Vincent had never seen before. It wasn’t like Randy to talk about trust or love with such intensity. The man who had spent his life avoiding commitment, avoiding any kind of real emotional connection, was now speaking of winning someone’s trust, of doing whatever it took to prove himself.

Vincent pushed past his own internal turmoil, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Randy. The question hung in the air between them, raw and unspoken. But Vincent had to ask, to confirm the reality of what he was hearing. This wasn’t the man he had once known. It couldn’t be.

“So, it’s true?” Vincent asked, his voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity.

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of his doubt, his confusion, and the disbelief he couldn’t quite shake off. The question was less about Randy’s intentions and more about Vincent himself. Could Randy, the man who had never taken anything seriously, really have found something worth fighting for? Could it be that, after all this time, Randy had finally stumbled upon something Vincent could never bring himself to believe in?

Randy met his gaze without flinching, and for the first time in their conversation, there was no hint of bravado or playfulness. The usual cocky grin was gone, replaced by something far more raw, far more vulnerable.

Randy’s expression was open in a way that made Vincent’s chest tighten unexpectedly, the weight of the moment pressing in around him. It wasn’t just the sincerity in Randy’s voice that struck him—it was the quiet honesty in his eyes.

The Randy he had known for years, the one who had always hidden behind layers of charm and humor, was no longer standing before him. Instead, there was a man who was confronting something much deeper, something that Vincent wasn’t sure he could relate to. But whatever had brought this change in Randy, it was real. And for the first time in a long time, Vincent found himself wondering whether maybe, just maybe, this was something worth believing in.

Randy broke the silence with a deep sigh, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his glass as he seemed to gather his thoughts.

“Sort of,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, as if he were still unsure of how to fully navigate the emotions swirling within him. “But there’s a catch.” He paused, as though the words he was about to say had weight far beyond what he was prepared to carry. “She has a son.”

The words hung in the air between them, and Vincent felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The vulnerability in Randy’s tone was unmistakable, and Vincent’s mind raced to process what he had just heard.

The confession stirred something in Vincent, something he hadn’t expected to feel. A distant memory surfaced unbidden, one he had buried deep within himself, too painful to touch. He couldn’t help but recall his own experiences with family, the complicated relationships that had always seemed to come with too many strings attached. It was a memory of a time when he, too, had questioned the things that mattered—loyalty, responsibility, and the ties that bound people together. But that was a long time ago, and he had long since moved past it. Or so he had convinced himself.

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy, until Vincent finally spoke. His voice was low, calm, but there was an undeniable thread of genuine curiosity beneath the surface.

“And you?” he asked, his gaze locked onto Randy, watching for the smallest sign of hesitation. “Do you accept him?”

The question wasn’t just about the boy; it was about Randy, about where he stood in this whole picture. Vincent’s mind wandered, imagining the potential complications of what Randy had just laid out. A child—a son—was no small thing. And for someone like Randy, someone who had always avoided the deep emotional investments, the relationships that required vulnerability, the challenge of accepting a child into his life could be a monumental shift. It was a question that carried more weight than Vincent realized, but he couldn’t help asking it.

Randy didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at his glass, as though weighing the truth in his mind. The flickering light from the overhead lamp cast shadows across his face, making him look older, more thoughtful than Vincent had ever seen him. Finally, he let out another sigh, a heavy one, and set his glass down on the counter with a soft clink.

“I do,” Randy said, his voice quieter this time, almost uncertain. “I don’t know what it means yet, but I do. I’m willing to try.”

His eyes met Vincent’s then, and for a moment, the old bravado was gone completely. In its place was a quiet resolve, a man confronting a future that was uncertain but something he was willing to face, no matter the cost.

Vincent absorbed Randy’s words, his mind still processing the gravity of what his friend had just shared. There was a depth in Randy now that Vincent hadn’t anticipated—a depth that made him pause and reconsider everything he had once known about the man standing before him.

Randy, the carefree, commitment-averse playboy, was no longer just a figure of past escapades and fleeting romances. He was a man with intentions, a man willing to step into a future that involved not just love, but responsibility. It was a jarring realization, one that left Vincent wondering what other changes time had carved into his old friend’s character.

Randy’s face softened as he spoke again, the intensity of his earlier words giving way to a more reflective tone.

“Matthew’s a great kid,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “If I ever meet his father, I might just thank him for giving me an instant family.”

His voice was laced with an unexpected tenderness, a side of Randy that Vincent rarely saw. The mention of Matthew—the boy who had already woven himself into Randy’s life—spoke volumes about the transformation his friend was undergoing. It wasn’t just about winning the trust of the woman he loved; it was about embracing the possibility of something permanent, something real.

“Funny thing though,” Randy added, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “He shares your name. Even the last name, Del Carmen.”

Vincent’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected revelation. For a brief moment, everything around him seemed to fade, the noise of the world growing distant as his mind fixated on the words. Del Carmen. It was a name he hadn’t thought much about in years, but hearing it now, spoken in the context of Randy’s words, felt like a jolt of electricity.

He quickly masked his reaction, forcing a neutral expression as his fingers tightened around the stem of his wine glass. It was a common enough surname, especially in their family and their circle. There were plenty of Del Carmens, so why should this be any different?

He tried to convince himself it meant nothing, just a coincidence, but the unsettling feeling that had gripped him didn’t fade. Nothing to dwell on, he thought, pushing the unease aside as he took a slow sip from his glass, trying to steady his thoughts. Yet the question lingered, gnawing at the edge of his mind—was it really just a coincidence?

All Chapters of SOFT CURVES: Chapter -9