Imperfect pairs
How love teams shaped and splintered my perception of romance.
by Beatrice Villaflor
It’s 2013, and I’m in fourth grade. Princess and I is the primetime hit I watch when I get home from school. Through 210 episodes, the long-lost princess of a fictional kingdom chooses between her three suitors: a childhood best friend, a crown prince or an arrogant heartthrob.
Like most other Filipinos, I grew up on love teams. The latest teleserye or film would boast the next it-couple that falls in love on-screen and hints at something just as perfect off-screen. The dynamic isn’t reserved for the camera: it spills into public appearances and engulfs the Filipino media landscape. Watching Princess and I was the first time I was invested in a love team.
The show was also my first time meeting “KathNiel” on screen. A portmanteau made from actors Kathryn Bernardo and Daniel Padilla’s first names, KathNiel was a staple in Filipino media between 2011 and 2023.
Love teams like KathNiel date back as far as the 1920s, in the age of Filipino silent films. When a love team is involved, local films can rival the largest Hollywood releases in the Philippine box office.
KathNiel’s 2018 film The Hows of Us was the first Filipino-produced movie to gross over 600 million Philippine pesos in the theaters.
Though the pair did not confirm their off-screen relationship until August 2018, many assumed KathNiel had been dating for nearly the same duration as their on-screen partnership. In May 2019, Bernardo posted a public letter to Padilla celebrating their seventh anniversary. The note highlighted the qualities he shared with the characters he had played as her love interest over the years. But more importantly, she told Padilla, “I’m thankful that you are you.”
The pair seemed just as well-suited off-screen as it was on-screen. From public declarations of love on social media to Bernardo’s YouTube videos featuring their romance, it felt larger than just clickbait. It was a window into a long-lasting love, only from an edited perspective.
“I’ve been in showbiz for 21 years now, 12 years as the one-half of KathNiel, and 11 years as someone who loved Deej [Padilla] even behind the camera,” Bernardo wrote in an Instagram announcement in November 2023.
When KathNiel fell apart after a decade, so did my perception of relationships. I had watched them break up on-screen hundreds of times before, but this was different.
The dissolution of their love represented everything that terrified me about a long-term relationship. They had compatible lifestyles and livelihoods. Everyone was rooting for them.
Even their breakup seemed like it was written for film. Padilla wrote in his now-edited announcement, “Thank you for dancing with me during my highs and thank you for singing with me during my lows.” His message addressed fans, too, called “KathNiels.”
“This is beyond show business,” it read. He continued in Tagalog, “It will be difficult, but we need to embrace the future.”
As one netizen wrote on X, the breakup resonated with even non-fans because it came with “the realization that childhood is over, and some things are not happy-ever-after. Magic hours are not forever.”
I’ve often wondered why this breakup from 2023 still impacts me. Perhaps subconsciously, I’ve been waiting for the magic to come back. Perhaps, the magic was all a mirage.
While love teams have pushed celebrities like Bernardo and Padilla to stardom, it can be a restrictive model for young entertainers. Fans can feel entitled to the details of the love team members’ personal lives. In late 2018, KathNiel decided not to accept future projects together in order to pursue their individual growth.
“I’ve seen stars rise and fall, and more often than not, the greatest tragedy is when they choose to live in a box,” Bernardo wrote in a 2019 open letter to Preview, a local magazine.
When a movie ends, you no longer have to think about it. Real relationships aren’t like that. It’s a cycle of compromise and communication, buoyed by beautiful moments that catch you off-guard.
KathNiel’s breakup came when I was exploring a new relationship. It was my first year in college — I was cynical and noncommittal. Meeting felt like a cosmic accident, an encounter I don’t even remember. Our eyes didn’t meet and trigger slow-mo, reverb-heavy music and instant butterflies.
Love comes a lot slower than in the movies and teleseryes. This new person wormed his way into my routine and heart over the span of months. Two years together and though the world has never stopped in its tracks, my breath still catches when I see him.
My boyfriend and I have incompatible names, ones that don’t fit together in a cute love team format. But there’s also a beauty in off-screen love, an oasis in a world that demands so much. With us, there’s no deadlines, no expectations, no extra eyes. I don’t have a ravenous fanbase rallying behind me, but I’m rooting for us. I think that’s all that matters.
“The Filipino internet mourned the death of their relationship. If they couldn’t get it right, how could I?”