You're Making Me Crazy, Professor

Chapter 64

We're here at the province now. Yeah, she asked me if I could go with her, and of course, I knew I was going to say yes. But, of course, I had to let her wait for a few days before giving her a definite answer. #Hardtoget.

Now, it's already night, and I can't sleep because, well, she's not beside me. It's strange—I'm not used to it. I lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the fact that she’s not here beside me. When I finally rolled over to look outside, I saw her talking to someone. She was smiling, laughing... really, Sylvia? Playgirl indeed.

But I guess I have to admit, she did confess her love to me.

And honestly, I could tell she meant it.

She’s not the same as before.

She doesn’t go to bars anymore, or hang out with other people like she used to.

I can’t deny it—she has really changed for me.

I appreciate her for that.

She makes me feel loved, truly loved.

And somehow, I've found myself falling deeper and deeper for her.

But here's the problem—I’m scared.

Scared that my cancer will get worse. Scared that if I let myself love her, I won’t be able to stay by her side. She deserves someone better than me, someone who won’t just leave her one day, someone who will grow old with her. She deserves that, not someone like me.

Just when I was starting to overthink everything, I heard her voice calling out to me.

"Gosh, Miss! You’re still awake?"

I turned toward the door, raising an eyebrow at the sound of her voice. When I saw her standing there, her eyes wide in shock like she saw a ghost, I couldn’t help but smirk.

"Do I look like I’m sleeping?" I replied, my tone dripping with sarcasm. I wasn’t exactly in the mood to joke, but I couldn’t resist. I shifted my position, sitting up in bed and giving her a look. "Where did you go?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I motioned for her to come over.

"I just needed some fresh air outside," she said, her voice slightly shaky, like she wasn’t sure whether I’d believe her. Fresh air, huh? I wasn’t buying it.

"You should be sleeping, Miss," she added, but I wasn’t having it.

"Really?" I arched my eyebrow even higher. "Well, I heard how fun your conversation was," I said sarcastically, just to see how she’d react.

“She’s just really talkative. It didn’t mean anything,” she explained quickly, as if defending herself.

I didn’t want to keep fighting with her. I didn’t even want to make this into a big deal. I just wanted things to feel normal again.

"Okay. Let’s sleep," I said, giving in with a sigh. I moved back to the bed and sat down, pulling the blankets around me, hoping she’d come join me.

She hesitated for a moment before finally sitting beside me.

"Goodnight, Miss," she whispered, but I could feel the distance between us. I looked at her, and she was sitting near the edge of the bed, as far away from me as possible. It almost felt like she was trying to stay out of my space.

"Why are you on the edge of the bed? Come closer, Gomez," I said, not bothering to hide the concern in my voice.

"I’m fine, Miss. I don’t want to bother you," she replied, and I could feel the faintest blush coloring her cheeks. It made me want to laugh, but I wasn’t going to tease her.

Instead, I grabbed her arm and gently pulled her closer to me.

Oh my God. What did I just do?

But you know what? I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t care. I was tired of pretending. I was tired of acting like I didn’t want this. So, I just held her there, wrapped in my arms, and let the moment sink in. No backing out now. I took the risk, and somehow, it didn’t feel wrong.

We were now both staring into each other’s eyes, the world around us fading into nothing. I couldn’t look away. She was so close, and the warmth she gave off comforted me in a way I couldn’t describe. Was it selfish to want to stay like this forever?

Her gorgeous eyes were locked on mine, and I could see the softness in her expression.

"Miss…" she whispered, and just hearing her say that sent a jolt through my chest.

"Don’t call me ‘Miss.’ Isn’t it strange for friends to call each other that?" I said, still holding on to her, refusing to let go. Well, I wasn’t planning to let go, not anytime soon.

She looked at me for a moment before responding, a little shyly. "Cynthia…"

Just hearing her say my name... It hit different now. I was used to hearing it from her before, but now? Now it felt like it was something entirely new. My heart skipped a beat.

"What?" I asked, trying to keep my composure, but inside, my heart was hammering in my chest.

"I can’t breathe," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Oh, crap. I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. "Oh, okay," I said, letting her go. I didn’t want to, but I had no choice.

She turned around, her back now facing me, and I tried my best to pretend like everything was normal. But inside, I was screaming. I wanted her close. I needed her close. But I couldn’t force her.

Then, I heard her voice again.

"Cynthia."

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breath. "What, Gomez?" I replied, my voice softer this time, like I was already giving in to the feeling of her being near me.

"Why do you always call me by my last name? Shouldn’t it be Sylvia?"

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Okay, Sylvia," I said, almost dismissively. I was used to calling her that before, but it felt weird now.

Almost like she had forgotten that I knew her better than anyone else.

"What? I couldn’t hear it well. Say it again," she teased me, her tone playful and light.

I sighed heavily, rolling my eyes in frustration. But, of course, I couldn’t resist her teasing. "Sylvia... go to sleep."

"I can’t," she said, her voice turning serious again. "I want a hug. You were just holding me a while ago, and now you’re pushing me away?"

I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t stop smiling, even though I tried.

"You’re so unfair!" she said, and I looked at her again, unable to hide my grin.

"You were the one who said you couldn’t breathe earlier. And now you want a hug?" I shot back, feeling the playful energy between us. "Make up your mind."

Just as I was about to tease her some more, I was completely caught off guard when she suddenly climbed over me, straddling me on the bed.

"Sylvia—" I started to say, but she cut me off.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked, her voice filled with uncertainty. She didn’t even wait for my answer before she leaned in slowly, kissing me on the forehead.

I didn’t know how to react. My whole body went stiff, and my mind was a complete mess. I wanted to smile so badly, but I forced myself not to. It was hard to hide my feelings.

"Goodnight, Cynthia," she whispered, and I couldn’t help but feel my heart flutter.

Yeah, I think I have a heart problem. Not a lung problem. Because whenever she’s near me, my heart races like crazy.

---

I'm sitting beneath the massive mango tree here in the province. The cool breeze rustles through the leaves, and the distant sound of birds singing fills the air. Being here in the province brings back so many memories. It's quiet, peaceful, and simple—just like the moments I used to spend with my family.

The sight of the old wooden houses and the familiar paths leading to the fields remind me so much of home.

I can almost hear the laughter of my cousins and feel the warmth of my parents’ embrace.

It’s strange how a place can make you feel so far away from everything, yet somehow so connected to the past.

As I sit there, lost in my thoughts, a wave of longing washes over me. The nostalgia is overwhelming, and it feels like the distance between me and my family grows with every passing second.

"I miss you, mommy and papa. I miss everyone," I whisper to myself, the words barely audible in the stillness of the evening.

For a moment, I close my eyes, letting the soft wind carry away the ache in my chest. I feel like I could sit here forever, just remembering the love and warmth of my family.

But before I can sink too deep into my memories, I hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching. The soft crunch of gravel underfoot breaks the silence, and I instinctively turn my head.

It’s Sylvia.

She’s walking toward me, her usual confident stride softened by the peaceful atmosphere of the province. She doesn’t say anything at first, just sits down beside me.

The warmth of her presence is immediate, and despite the quiet, it feels like there’s a comforting energy surrounding. She simply sits with me, as if she understands.

The silence between us is comforting, not awkward. Sylvia, with all her chaotic energy, has this calming effect on me. She leans back against the trunk of the tree, her eyes looking out over the fields as the sunset bathes everything in a golden hue.

I want to tell her everything—the fear, the sadness, the longing. But I just stay silent, breathing in the air, trying to find a way to put my feelings into words. Sylvia doesn’t push me to speak, doesn’t force anything. She’s just there, beside me, in her quiet, understanding way.

She looks over at me then, and I can see the concern in her eyes. It’s like she knows.

"Okay ka lang?" she asked me, her voice soft, and I could feel it, that warmth, that comfort that only she could bring. It was like her voice alone could soothe the turmoil inside me.

I didn’t answer right away.

Opening up wasn’t something I was used to, especially not when it came to sharing my feelings with others.

I’d spent years learning to bottle things up, to keep everything inside.

But now, with her sitting next to me, I felt an overwhelming need to finally say what had been gnawing at me for so long.

"I miss them. I miss her." I said quietly, not looking at her, but my heart was heavy with the truth that I was letting out.

For the first time, I was admitting it—admitting how much I missed my family, how I longed for their presence. I felt the tightness in my chest, threatening to turn into tears, but I forced myself to hold them back.

"Sino?" she asked gently, her voice full of care, as though she wanted to understand. "You can share it with me, I'll listen."

I let out a sigh, feeling the cool breeze brush against my skin.

My fingers clenched into the grass beneath me, grounding myself as I tried to speak.

"I actually don’t regret coming here. I think it’s the best decision I’ve made. I found the comfort, the peace that I was looking for. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve felt this kind of feeling..." I paused, biting my lip as the emotions threatened to spill over.

"I really miss my family," I finally said, the words coming out in a quiet whisper, but they felt like a heavy weight lifted off my shoulders. The truth had been hanging over me, and it was freeing, in a way, to say it aloud.

She didn’t respond at first. She didn’t need to. She just looked at me with those soft, understanding eyes, as if she was waiting for me to say more, to let everything out. And then, she spoke, her voice low and full of tenderness.

"I'm here," she said softly, like a promise. "You can rant, okay? Whenever you're with me, you don’t have to act tough. Tell me about the pain you keep quiet. The pain you hide because you think nobody gets it."

I didn’t say anything, but I found myself staring into her eyes. It was the same as before—the kid who comforted me when no one else could. And somehow, she never failed me. Not once.

"Show me, even the hurts you’re good at hiding," she continued, her words gentle but firm. "Gusto kitang maintindihan. I want to be there for you. I want to help you feel better. I don’t want you to carry all of that alone. It’s okay to not be okay sometimes. At okay lang na makita ko 'yun."

Her words wrapped around me, like a blanket that shielded me from the coldness I often felt inside. I felt vulnerable, but I didn’t mind. It was hard, but I was ready to let it all go. I felt my voice break, trembling as I spoke.

"My family has been gone for a long time. I was just a child back then. A child," I said, my voice thick with emotion, as the memories rushed back to me. "I was left alone. I didn’t know how to act, what to do. I was scared."

The pain of those years, the confusion and fear, flooded my mind. It felt like a dark cloud that had been hanging over me for so long, and now it was all rushing to the surface.

Everything came back to me again—the loneliness, the desperate need for someone to tell me everything would be okay. The days I spent wondering why I couldn’t just disappear. But somehow, despite it all, I had made it through. I managed to survive.

"But I managed to get through it. Somehow. And I just… miss them so bad," I said, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "I always blame myself. I always think that maybe… it was my fault they’re gone."

Was it really my fault? Was it? The doubt twisted inside me, gnawing at my mind. Maybe I was the one to blame. Maybe it was all because of me.

Before I could spiral further, I felt her move closer, her presence calming the storm inside me. She leaned in hesitantly, as though unsure if she should cross the line. And then, she asked, "Can I hug you?"

I didn’t answer at first, too stunned by the simple offer. Was a hug really all I needed? I hadn’t realized how much I was craving it until she asked.

Without waiting for my response, she reached out, her arms wrapping around me gently.

The warmth of her embrace was exactly what I needed in that moment.

She held me tightly, and I felt the weight of everything I had been carrying start to ease.

Her hands moved slowly through my hair, stroking it in a comforting rhythm.

It was a touch that spoke volumes, telling me she was here, that I wasn’t alone.

"You can cry, Cynthia," she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It’s normal for a person to cry when everything gets too heavy. Hindi mo kailangang tiisin lahat mag-isa. I’m here for you."

And in that moment, I realized that I didn’t have to carry everything by myself anymore. Her arms around me, the safety of her presence, was all I needed. A hug was all I needed. A hug from her. Sylvia—she was everything I needed, everything I had been longing for all along.

"And I admire you," she whispered again, her voice full of warmth and sincerity. "For being strong, for surviving all this time. But you don’t always have to be strong. Sometimes, it’s okay to just… let go."

And just like that, the dam broke. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears came, hot and uncontrollable, as I buried my face in her shoulder. It was the first time in so long that I had allowed myself to truly feel, to truly cry.

And it felt like relief.

---

It’s my birthday today, though I can’t bring myself to celebrate it.

I stopped celebrating after that accident.

After what happened, I couldn’t bring myself to feel joy on this day.

I don’t deserve it.

I never have.

This day used to be full of laughter, cake, and family.

But now, it's just another reminder of what I've lost.

I’m here now, sitting in the plush seat of my private jet, on my way to Paris. It’s not for a celebration, though. No, today is another somber day—today marks the death anniversary of my family. It’s a day I’ve learned to carry with me, one I can’t forget, no matter how hard I try.

The jet’s engines hum softly, and the view outside the window is peaceful, a blur of clouds and distant skies.

It almost feels like I’m floating away from everything—away from the pain, from the memories.

But no matter how far I go, I can never escape it.

The silence in the cabin feels suffocating, but somehow, it’s all I can handle right now.

The quiet is comforting in its own way.

"Ma'am, a-alis na po tayo," the flight attendant says politely, breaking me out of my thoughts. I nod in response, barely registering the words. My mind is elsewhere, lost in the quiet hum of the plane and the memories that threaten to overwhelm me.

I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes, trying to shut out the world, if only for a moment. I let out a breath, trying to steady myself, to quiet the emotions stirring inside. But just as I’m starting to drift into a numb state, my phone vibrates in my hand.

I open my eyes, startled, and glance down at the screen. For a split second, I hesitate, wondering who it could be. The vibration stops, and for a moment, I think about ignoring it. But I know I can’t. Maybe it’s something important. Maybe it's just a distraction from the weight on my chest.

I swipe my phone open and stare at the screen, unsure of what to expect.

Cynthia... I need your help. Something’s wrong. I’m at the location I’m sending, but I’m not feeling well. Please come quickly. I don’t know how long I can last.

I read her message, and I didn’t know how to feel.

My heart started beating faster, and panic surged through my veins.

I could barely process what was happening, but one thing was clear: I couldn’t lose her.

The thought of her slipping away, of not being able to reach her in time, was too much to bear.

The message was simple, just a few words, but it felt like a punch to my chest.

I'm on my way. Please, hang in there, Sylvia. Please.

I could feel the weight of those words pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. I had to do something. I had to act.

Without thinking, I bolted out of my seat and rushed toward the cockpit. I didn’t care about anything else—I needed to get to her.

"Ma'am, bakit po?" the pilot asked, sounding confused by my sudden urgency.

"Stop asking me questions and get a helicopter! Let's go to this location, now!" I said, my voice trembling with panic, fear clawing at my throat.

They didn’t question me any further. They could see the panic in my eyes, and I was grateful they followed my instructions without hesitation. My heart raced as I felt the seconds slip away. Please stay. Don’t leave me, Sylvia. Please.

Those words kept echoing in my mind, over and over again, as the helicopter lifted off the ground. Time seemed to stretch, every second feeling like an eternity. But no matter how fast the helicopter flew, it never felt like we were getting closer to her fast enough.

When we finally arrived, I couldn’t even comprehend where we were. The helicopter touched down on a beach? But I didn’t care about the location. All I cared about was seeing Sylvia, seeing that she was safe.

I jumped out as soon as the helicopter came to a stop, my heart in my throat, and immediately began searching for her. People moved around, looking at me with confused or concerned glances, but I couldn’t focus on them.

“Where is she? Where is Sylvia?!” I asked, my voice frantic and trembling. I could feel the panic rising in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

No one answered immediately. I spun around, looking for any sign of her. Then, I saw her. She was standing a few feet away, looking... shocked. She looked like she couldn’t believe I was there.

I didn’t care anymore. Without thinking, I ran to her, my heart desperate to be near her, to make sure she was really there and not a figment of my imagination.

Before I could say anything, I pulled her into a tight hug, squeezing her as if I could somehow protect her from everything, from all the fears and worries that had been haunting me.

“Hey, I’m sorry—” I started, but she cut me off, her voice sharp, filled with emotion.

"I h-hate you! W-why would y-you do something like this?" she cried out, her voice breaking. She was shaking, but I didn’t let go. I couldn’t.

I pulled away just slightly, enough to look at her properly. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision, but I didn’t care. I needed her to understand.

“You’re always making me worried. I-I hate you,” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I was feeling. The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but they were the truth.

She didn’t respond immediately. Her face was blank, her eyes wide, and it seemed like she was speechless. Like she didn’t know what to say or how to react. I could see the confusion in her eyes, the hurt in her expression, and it only made my heart ache more.

She reached up slowly, her fingers brushing gently against my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it felt like her words were piercing me.

"I’m sorry, Cynthia. I didn’t mean to make you feel this way. It’s just... I wanted to do something special for you. Something you’d never forget."

I looked at her, unable to hide the frustration that bubbled up inside me.

"I don’t care about your stupid surprises, Sylvia!" I snapped, my voice breaking again, full of raw emotion. "I care about you. And I don’t want to lose you because you think I’m going to be okay with you hurting yourself just to make me happy!"

Her eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, she looked like she couldn’t process what I was saying. “What? You care... about me?” she asked, her voice small, almost as if she didn’t believe it.

Of course I do, idiot! I thought. I always care for you. But you keep forgetting me.

I opened my mouth to say something, to finally tell her how I felt, but before I could, my chest tightened.

"I... I can’t... I can’t breathe..." I whispered, my voice barely coming out.

It hit me all at once. That familiar, suffocating feeling. The panic. The overwhelming pressure in my chest. I didn’t have my medication with me, and I felt like I was drowning.

The words started to circle in my mind, the same ones I’d been repeating to myself since I was a child, but they felt heavier now. Mommy, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. Papa, Kuya, Ate, Lolo... I’m sorry.

They kept repeating, louder and louder, as if they were suffocating me from the inside out. I wanted to scream, to let it all out, but it felt like the weight of it was crushing me.

I gasped for air, my vision starting to blur.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

Please, Sylvia, don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone. Please.

The words kept repeating, and I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t escape the suffocating pressure.

---

I'm here in her room, standing in front of her as she continues to ignore me. After everything that happened yesterday, it's like I'm a stranger to her. She’s different now, and I can’t understand why. It feels like she’s pulling away, and I can’t fucking handle it. I can’t understand it.

I’m drunk, I know it’s not safe, but at this point, I don’t care. Fuck it. My girl is ignoring me, and that’s something I can’t just let slide. My patience has run out. I need her. I want her. I’m craving for her, and this is driving me crazy.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” I say, my voice low and dangerous, the anger swirling inside me like a storm. I’m not the same today. I won’t stop myself anymore. Not with the way she’s acting. “Why aren’t you answering me? Don’t push me to my limits, Sylvia... or you’ll regret it.”

She doesn’t say anything.

She just stands there, her back stiff, her eyes avoiding mine.

That silence only makes me more furious.

I step forward, my hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from her face, my fingers moving gently as I tuck it behind her ear.

It’s a soft, intimate gesture, but I’m not gentle inside.

The tension in me is growing, the need, the craving, it’s becoming unbearable.

“Okay… fine,” I mutter, my tone dark with frustration. “Is this how you want to play?”

She still doesn’t answer. That fucking silence is driving me insane. The more she stays quiet, the more it feels like she’s pushing me away. And that? I can’t handle that shit.

I move without thinking, leaning down to kiss her again.

This time, it’s slower, deeper, my lips pressing firmly against hers, my tongue seeking entrance.

Her lips are soft, but she isn’t kissing me back.

She isn’t responding, and that pisses me off more than anything.

But I don’t care.

My hand moves to the back of her neck, gripping her gently but firmly, pulling her closer to me.

Let’s see if you can resist me now.

And then, finally, she kisses me back.

I feel a surge of triumph. You can’t resist me, Sylvia. You really can’t.

Her arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, our bodies pressing together.

It’s my first time doing this—being this close to her, feeling this heat between us—but she knows what she’s doing.

She’s not hesitant.

She’s experienced, and that makes everything feel more intense.

We’re kissing, not stopping, not pulling away, until I realize we’ve somehow moved onto the bed without even thinking about it.

I’m on top of her, kissing her nonstop, my hands exploring her body, feeling the heat of her skin beneath my fingertips. My heart is pounding, every part of me screaming for more. But then, she stops the kiss, pushing me away. My eyebrow raises in confusion, my frustration only growing.

“Let’s stop, Miss,” she says, her voice breathy but firm, her hands pushing against my chest to create distance. “You’re drunk… and you have a boyfriend. Please. Stop making me crazy.”

I’m pissed now. I don’t have a fucking boyfriend. What the hell is she talking about? I don’t care that she’s trying to push me away. I’m not going to stop. Not now. Not when I’ve already come this far.

Without thinking, I push her back down onto the bed, my lips crashing against hers again. She moans against my mouth, her breath catching, and it stops me in my tracks. I feel like I’ve been hit by a wave. That moan… it drives me crazy. But it’s enough to make me realize something.

I can’t hold it anymore. I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t keep acting like I don’t care for her, like I don’t want her. I’m tired of pushing her away, tired of hiding the truth.

I pull back slightly, looking at her with everything I’ve been holding inside.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I admit, my voice raw, almost breaking. “And I want you, right now, Sylvia.”

The words feel like they’re finally freeing me.

But at the same time, they’re terrifying.

The fear of being vulnerable, of putting myself out there, is still lingering in the back of my mind.

But I can’t pretend anymore.

I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel this way about her.

I can’t keep lying to myself.

I need her to know the truth. The truth that’s been eating me up inside for so long.

---

We're here at the beach, sitting side by side, our feet buried in the cool sand while the sound of waves gently crashing fills the air around us.

I’ve been quiet, my thoughts heavier than I want to admit. I know I’ve been ignoring her since yesterday, pretending to be cold, to be distant. When she asked me why, I told her it was because of her past. But that was a lie. A pathetic excuse I used to hide the real reason.

Because I was scared.

I was scared of how close Sylvia was getting to me now—how much space she was taking up in my heart, in my thoughts, in the parts of myself I’ve always tried to keep guarded.

I was scared because I’m losing my life, little by little.

My body is getting weaker, and there are days I can barely breathe without pain.

I didn’t want her to see me like this—hopeless, fragile, dying.

But I can’t resist her.

I love her so damn much. I love her in a way that aches deep in my chest. I love her in silence, in stolen glances, in every breath I take when she’s near me. I wish I could tell her—tell her how much she means to me, how much I want her to stay by my side.

But can I really be that selfish?

Can I really ask her to love someone who might disappear at any moment?

I can't take it anymore. I can't keep acting like I don't care. Because the truth is, deep inside, I want to scream. I want to shout to the entire world that I’m in love with her. That I need her. That she makes me feel alive, even when my body is betraying me.

"I don't know what the future looks like," I murmured, my voice barely audible over the waves.

"Neither do I," she said softly beside me, her voice steady. "But I know I want you in mine."

Her words hit me like a gentle wave, washing over my fears, soothing my ache for certainty. I let out a small laugh—a breathy, fragile sound that felt like it was stitched together with strands of hope I didn’t know I still had.

"Sylvia."

Her name fell from my lips so gently, but it carried the weight of everything I felt. It wasn’t just a name—it was a prayer, a plea, a confession. She turned to me slowly, her eyes scanning my face, searching for the meaning in my expression.

But I didn’t speak again.

Instead, I reached out, my hands moving on their own, driven by something deep inside me. I cupped her face between my palms, my thumbs brushing lightly against her cheeks. My touch was warm, steady—reassuring. She looked surprised, but she didn’t pull away.

And before she could ask what was wrong, I leaned in and pressed my lips gently to hers.

The world seemed to pause in that exact moment.

Everything faded—the crashing of the waves, the hum of the breeze, the noise of my fear—everything melted into silence as our lips met. I closed my eyes, letting myself fall into the moment, allowing the kiss to say everything I was too afraid to put into words.

Her lips were soft and sweet. The kiss was delicate, slow. It wasn’t rushed or hungry—it was reverent. Like a promise whispered into the night. My hands found her waist, holding her close, as though I was afraid she might disappear if I let go.

And in that kiss, I poured everything—every fear, every dream, every ounce of love I had been holding in for so long.

When I finally pulled away, I kept my hands on her face, my forehead resting lightly against hers. Our breaths mingled in the small space between us. She looked into my eyes, and what I saw in hers was more than just emotion—it was depth. It was something deep and raw and real.

"I love you," I said, my voice trembling, but each word clear and certain. It was a truth I could no longer hide. She felt her heart stutter, then race, as if it was trying to catch up with what I had just said. "Let's make this official."

My heart thudded loudly in my chest. I wanted to love her, even if it terrified me. I had been so afraid to commit—so scared that if I allowed myself to hold her hand, she would end up holding my memory instead. I didn’t want her to suffer. I didn’t want her to wake up one day and find me gone.

But just for once, please… let me be selfish.

Let me love her the way she truly deserves to be loved.

And then, as if the universe had been listening and was waiting for the perfect moment to respond, the sky exploded in color.

The first firework burst overhead, scattering sparks of red and gold across the night like stardust.

Sylvia gasped softly and tilted her head up, her eyes wide in wonder.

I turned to look at her, unable to stop the smile that formed on my lips.

She looked so beautiful in that moment, her face lit by the shimmering lights above us.

We sat there in silence, awe-struck, our fingers intertwined tightly. The crackle of the fireworks filled the air, echoing in the distance as the sky bloomed with shades of violet, emerald, blue, and gold. Each explosion felt like a celebration—of this night, of our truth, of our love.

---

Everything has been going well between us lately.

For the first time in a long while, I feel genuinely happy.

We both are.

There’s a sense of peace when I’m with her, as if the chaos inside me settles just by being near her.

Tonight, we spent our evening at the park, under the dim glow of streetlights and stars.

It was already 1 a.

m.

, but neither of us wanted to go home yet.

Time always moved differently when I was with her.

She was teaching me how to ride a bike, of all things.

I’ve never properly learned as a kid, and when I told her that, she immediately insisted we fix that gap in my childhood.

We laughed a lot, mostly at my wobbly attempts and her exaggerated cheering whenever I managed to go more than five seconds without falling.

It was silly.

It was simple.

But it was perfect.

Now, we were walking back to the car, hand in hand, both of us a little tired but still grinning from ear to ear.

"Thank you for this day," she said softly, turning her head to look at me with that smile that always made my chest ache in the best way.

But no—that wasn’t right. I should be the one saying thank you. She had no idea what she’s done for me. How she had healed the little girl inside me—the one who grew up with fear and emptiness, the one who forgot what it was like to feel safe. Sylvia gave her that warmth again.

"No, I’m the one who should be thankful," I replied, my voice quiet but certain. "I’m happy because of you."

She smiled again, and I felt her fingers tighten slightly around mine as we reached the car.

We got inside.

She was the one driving, always insisting that she should when I looked tired.

She didn’t say anything more on the ride home, just played soft music through the speakers as I rested my head against the window.

The calmness of her presence was enough.

And when she dropped me off at my house, she turned to me with that same gentle expression.

"I love you, love. Rest well," she whispered, and then leaned over to kiss my forehead.

My heart clenched at the tenderness of it. I smiled, nodded, and got out of the car, watching her drive away before going inside.

After taking a quick shower to wash off the sweat and dirt from biking, I settled into bed, but not before checking my phone. That’s when I saw a message from Theo.

Let’s meet tomorrow. I have to run a check on you, just to make sure you're okay.

I rolled my eyes and smiled a little despite myself. Typical Theo. Rough around the edges but always watching over me like a persistent older brother.

I replied with a short:

K.

I was too exhausted to say more. My body was sore from biking, my eyelids heavy. Within minutes, I drifted off to sleep.

—

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, and I woke up groggy, realizing I still had unfinished work waiting for me.

I groaned, dragging myself out of bed and into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

The bitterness helped clear the fog from my mind, and soon enough, I was working on my laptop at the couch, focused on my tasks.

That’s when I felt it—that familiar sense of someone nearby.

I glanced up and there she was.

Sylvia.

She had let herself in. No words were exchanged; she just smiled, walked over, and kissed my temple before sitting beside me. She had become a daily presence in my life, dropping by whenever she could, spending time with me, keeping me company.

But as the days passed, it got harder to match her energy. Harder to pretend that everything was fine. Because it wasn’t.

What she didn’t know was that I had been meeting Theo almost every day for the past week.

Not for fun.

For check-ups.

For support.

Because my lungs were deteriorating. Breathing became more painful. My strength had started to fade quicker than before. I was running out of time, and everything was getting worse.

—

It’s Sunday now. I’m sitting across from Theo in our usual coffee shop. The place smells like cinnamon and roasted beans, but none of it feels comforting today.

"Did you tell Sylvia that you were meeting me?" he asked, sipping from his mug.

"Of course not. How could I tell her?" I said, my voice low. "She doesn’t know what I’m going through, Theo."

He leaned back, sighing deeply, frustration evident in his expression.

"Wala ka bang balak na sabihin ang totoo sa kanya? You’ll have surgery in the next few weeks, Cyn. And you know the chances. It’s low. Too low."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, blinking away the sting in my eyes. "That’s exactly why I haven’t told her. How could I look her in the eyes and say, ‘Hey, I might die soon’? How do I break her like that, Theo? It would hurt her too much."

He frowned, shaking his head. "Anong balak mong gawin? Hide it until you’re already on the operating table? Alam mong hindi mo 'yan kayang itago habang buhay."

"I know," I whispered. "But I’ve decided something. I’m going to break up with her."

He stared at me in disbelief. "What?!"

"It’s the only way. If she hates me, maybe it won’t hurt her as much when I’m gone. If she thinks I was just playing with her, maybe it’ll make things easier for her to move on."

Theo leaned forward, gripping my hand tightly. "Why do you keep saying that? Saying those words like it’s already over. Cyn, you have to fight. You have to be strong—for yourself and for her. Don’t talk like you’ve given up."

I didn’t reply right away, afraid that if I spoke, I might break down. He squeezed my hand, his eyes intense but kind.

"I’m doing everything I can to make this surgery a success. I’ve been studying your case night and day, talking to the best surgeons. Don’t lose hope, okay?"

He looked down at our hands. "This hand… it still has a future. Magho-holding hands pa kayo ng baby mo. Kaya please, be strong. But… I’ll respect your decision kung gusto mo talagang maghiwalay na kayo. Just don’t regret it later."

My phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen and froze.

It was her.

Hi, are you busy? Can I go to your house later? I miss you. So bad.

I stared at the message for a full minute, my fingers trembling slightly.

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to drop everything and run back to her. But the weight of the truth I hadn’t told her yet anchored me in place.

After a pause, I typed back:

I’ll be back home at 6. Still busy at work. See you later.

I hit send and let my phone fall face-down on the table.

For now… I still have time to pretend.

I’ve been distant these past few days.

I know she noticed—how could she not?

Every unread message, every ignored call, every vague excuse…

I know I’ve been hurting her with my silence.

It wasn’t fair to her, and it broke me inside every time I saw the confusion and pain in her eyes.

But the truth is, I was doing it on purpose.

Not because I stopped loving her, but because I loved her too much to let her see me like this.

I’m getting weaker.

Each day feels heavier than the last.

My body is failing me in ways I never imagined it would.

I can feel myself slowly slipping, losing strength, losing time.

And as much as I want to stay—stay for her, stay with her—I know I can’t.

Not for long.

The worst part?

I don't even have the courage to tell her what's really happening to me.

I don't want her to carry this weight, to be tied to someone who's slowly fading away.

That’s why I’ve decided to end it today.

We’re meeting later, and I’ve made up my mind—I’m going to break up with her. I know it’s going to destroy her, and it’s already tearing me apart just thinking about it. But it’s the only way I know how to protect her.

If she stays, she’ll witness every painful moment I go through. She’ll see me fall apart, and I know that would shatter her. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves someone whole, someone who can walk beside her into the future—not someone who's already counting their days.

So I’ve built this plan in my head.

I’ll be cold.

Distant.

Cruel, even.

I’ll say things I don’t mean.

I’ll make her believe I’ve stopped loving her.

That I’ve lost interest.

I want her to hate me.

Because if she hates me, she won’t come back.

If she walks away angry, she won’t look back and see what’s really happening.

I have to be the villain in her story, just so she can survive the ending.

She gave me everything—her time, her love, her patience, her whole heart.

And what did I do?

I pulled away.

I broke promises.

I left her confused in the dark, wondering what she did wrong.

She didn’t do anything wrong.

I’m the problem.

I’ve always been the problem.

She deserves someone who can give her the same kind of love she gave me—consistent, unwavering, healthy.

But that someone isn’t me. Not anymore.

So tonight, I’ll end it. I’ll look her in the eyes and lie through my teeth. I’ll pretend I’m okay. I’ll pretend I’ve moved on. And when she walks away with tears in her eyes and hatred in her heart, I’ll tell myself I did the right thing.

Even if it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever done.

---

It was 6 PM.

I was lying on the couch, the low hum of the TV filling the silence. The warm air kissed my skin, but inside, I was frozen. Numb. Tired.

Not the kind of tired you sleep off, but the kind you never really wake up from.

I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I had been trying to stay awake—stay ready. For her.

Because I knew tonight would break her. And me.

The soft creak of the door stirred me.

Even before I opened my eyes, I knew it was her.

Sylvia.

I forced myself to stay still for a moment longer, breathing slowly, memorizing the sound of her presence. The way the air seemed heavier when she was near.

If I could just freeze this moment, I would.

Because once I opened my eyes, there was no going back.

When I finally blinked awake, there she was—standing by the door, fragile and hesitant, like she was afraid to come closer.

My chest twisted painfully.

God, how I loved her.

But I couldn't show it. Not tonight.

“Love?” I murmured, my voice rough from sleep. I let it sound detached, even though my heart was already screaming inside.

She didn't answer right away. Just stood there, looking so broken, so confused.

I wanted to run to her. Hold her. Tell her everything.

But I stayed still.

I sat up slowly, stretching, giving myself a few extra seconds to hide the turmoil ripping through me.

When I looked at her again, I made sure my face was neutral. Careful. Guarded.

“I’m sorry,” I said, voice soft, casual. “I must’ve dozed off. I didn’t hear you knock.”

She nodded, but her eyes were screaming.

I had to look away.

If I kept looking at her, I would shatter.

She sat on the coffee table in front of me, her gaze heavy, searching my face like she was begging for answers.

I hated myself for what I was about to do.

But it was better this way. She needed to hate me, to move on without me.

“How are you, really?” she asked, voice trembling.

I swallowed hard. “Tired, I guess,” I lied. “Busy.”

I couldn't tell her the truth—that the reason I was tired was because my body was failing. That I was slipping away from her more every day.

No. She had to believe I didn’t love her anymore.

It was the only way she’d survive this.

“You sure?” she asked, her voice so heartbreakingly soft.

I met her eyes briefly—just enough to see the pain there—before I looked away again.

“I’m fine, Syl. Really.”

Liar.

I hated myself.

Then she said it.

The words that tore right through me.

“Do you still love me? Did you ever love me?”

I wanted to scream yes. I wanted to hold her and swear I'd love her until my last breath.

But instead, I nodded mechanically.“I do. I’ve always been in love with you.”

But I said it like it didn’t matter.

Like it was just a fact—not the center of my entire existence.

“Mas mahal kita.”Her broken smile nearly killed me.

She kept talking—pouring her heart out, offering me everything, even after everything.

And all I could do was sit there and break her.

I stayed silent when she begged for reassurance.

Because I had to.

Then came the words I had been dreading.

“I saw you... with Theo.”

Theo.

The cover story.

I closed my eyes briefly, guilt slamming into me like a freight train.

I should have come up with a better lie. Something cleaner.

Instead, all I could do was say:

“It was just for show. We were in public. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

I could hear the hope still clinging to her voice when she asked if it was just today.

I hated myself for having to lie again.

But the truth—that I was dying—was so much crueler.

And then... she shattered right in front of me.

Tears streamed down her face, and every sob felt like a knife twisting deeper into my heart.

“You didn’t have to lie. You could’ve just told me the truth…”

I know, Love.

But you deserve a life without waiting for me to die.

You deserve someone who can stay.

Then came the killing blow.

The words I never wanted to say but had no choice to.

“I love him.”

I said it flatly, like it was easy, even though it tore my soul apart.

Her whole body froze.

I saw the light go out in her eyes, and something inside me almost broke completely.

But I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms.

Stay strong. Stay cold.

She begged me to take it back.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

"I never loved you," I said.

Each word a death sentence—to her, and to myself.

"Looking at you disgusts me."

I had never hated myself more.

She collapsed onto her knees, sobbing, begging.

"I’m sorry," she cried. "I’m begging you. Love… please."

And every part of me—every single cell—wanted to fall beside her, hold her, tell her everything.

But instead, I hardened my heart even more.

"Stop being pathetic, Sylvia," I snapped, my voice cold, cruel.

"I hate you. I hate everything about you."

Lie.

Lie.

Lie.

Over and over again, until it finally stuck.

"Stay with me, please. Handa akong magpakatanga, manatili ka lang sa tabi ko," she whispered, broken beyond repair.

Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them away before she could see.

I had to be strong. For her.

Even if it destroyed me.

"If you really love me..." I said, voice barely steady, "let me go."

I turned my back to her.

Each step toward the door felt like tearing my own heart out of my chest.

I heard her soft sobs, her broken pleas.

And somewhere deep inside, a part of me died that night, too..

When I stepped out into the night, I let the tears fall freely.

Away from her.

Away from the life I had dreamed of having with her.

Because the truth was:

I didn’t leave because I stopped loving her.

I left because I loved her too much to let her watch me die.