Chapter 65
It’s been more than a few weeks since we broke up.
Since I broke up with her.
And as time passed, I could feel myself slowly falling apart, like the strength I used to have was slipping through my fingers day by day. My body felt heavier. My chest ached more often. And sometimes, when I looked at the mirror, I barely recognized the person staring back at me.
I was getting weaker—physically and emotionally.
And it wasn’t just the illness.
It was the way I kept pushing her away, pretending I was fine, acting like I didn’t care.
Like I didn’t love her anymore.
But every time she tried to talk to me, every time she approached me with that worried look in her eyes, asking if I’ve eaten or if I’ve taken my medicine, it tore something inside me.
She’s still been bothering me—checking on me, taking care of me quietly in the ways she can, as if she could sense everything I was hiding.
And me?
I kept acting cold. Distant. Numb. Like she was just a stranger.
But deep inside, I was screaming.
I wanted to run to her.
To bury myself in her arms and tell her how much I needed her.
I wanted to hold her tight and cry into her shoulder, whisper that I’m scared—so scared of dying, of losing her, of fading into nothing and leaving her alone.
But I never let myself.
Because I keep telling myself she deserves more. That someone like me, someone whose life is hanging on by threads, doesn’t deserve someone like her. Someone so full of promise. So full of light.
Today was her graduation.
The auditorium was packed—students in their toga, proud families clutching bouquets, the air buzzing with celebration.
But I wasn’t here to celebrate just anyone.
I was here for her.
Sylvia.
I found a seat near the third row, quiet and unnoticed. I didn’t want her to know I came. I just needed to see her. Even just for this one moment.
The lights dimmed, and the ceremony began.
Soon enough, it was her turn.
My Sylvia.
My Valedictorian.
My Summa cum laude.
I watched as she stepped up to the podium, standing straight with grace, elegance, and that quiet fire in her that I’ve always admired. She took a deep breath before speaking, her fingers gently gripping the edges of the paper in front of her.
Her voice rang out across the hall—slightly hesitant at first, and I saw her eyes scanning the crowd.
Looking for someone.
Looking for me.
“Good afternoon, esteemed faculty, fellow graduates, and beloved families…”
Her voice sounded steady—too steady, almost—but there was something beneath it. Something raw. As if she was fighting to keep her composure, trying not to let something slip.
I held my breath.
She began reading the rest of her speech, her tone controlled, but her gaze… it found me.
And I didn’t look away.
“I want to talk about growth—not just academic, but emotional. The kind of growth you earn when you’ve been broken, when you’ve fallen short, when you’ve been told you weren’t enough…”
Her words pierced me.
Because I knew.
I knew what she meant.
I knew who she was talking about.
She was talking about us.
She kept reading her speech, her voice unwavering, but her eyes didn’t move away from mine for long. Every time they returned, I held that gaze. As if by doing so, I could hold on to the version of her I loved—the version of us that still existed in memory.
I kept staring because I wanted to memorize her.
Every flicker of emotion in her eyes. Every tremble in her voice. Every piece of her—because deep down, I feared this might be the last time I’d ever see her like this. Whole. Glowing. Alive with dreams.
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the people who pushed me, challenged me, and—whether they meant to or not—taught me how to fight for myself.”
I felt my heart twist.
I love you.
I love you so bad, Sylvia.
Those words kept repeating in my head, over and over like a prayer I couldn’t speak out loud.
I wanted to stay.
God, I wanted to stay.
“I used to think strength meant never breaking. But maybe… it means choosing to stand up even when you’re shattered.”
She looked at me again, and this time, I felt my throat close.
Tears welled in my eyes, but I held them back.
I wanted to run up there and tell her I was proud of her. That I saw her strength. That she had become someone I always knew she could be.
I’m proud of you, my Sylvia. I really am.
And I let the smallest smile escape my lips, even if my heart was breaking all over again.
You really did well, love.
I whispered it silently into the air, hoping she’d feel it somehow. That even from a distance, my love could still wrap around her like a soft echo—one that says even if I go, she was the best part of my life.
And always will be.
---
Call me crazy, but I followed her after the graduation ended.
Everyone was leaving with their families, celebrating, taking pictures, laughing—but not her. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t surrounded by anyone. She walked away, quietly, almost like she wanted to disappear.
I knew where she was headed even before she got too far.
Her favorite place.
The same place where we used to sit side by side, watching the sunset melt into the horizon. The same place where dreams were whispered into the air, and promises were made with the innocence of forever.
I watched her from a distance, heart breaking into pieces with every step she took further away from everyone and everything.
She sat down, pulling out a bottle from her bag—again, drinking, alone.
Her shoulders shook as she cried, silent at first, but the pain in her was so loud that it tore into me.
She was whispering to herself, small broken words I couldn't catch. She looked so fragile, so broken, like a paper boat tossed into a storm. She was hurting. So badly. And God, I wanted nothing more than to run to her, to scoop her into my arms, to shield her from all of it.
I took a step forward. Just one. But I stopped myself.
My fists clenched at my sides. My nails digging into my palms. I forced myself to stay put, even as the tears blurred my vision, even as they slid down my cheeks without permission.
Then suddenly, she pulled out her phone. Her lips curved into a soft, bittersweet smile, the kind that broke my heart even more because it wasn’t real. It was forced, pained. She was pretending for herself, pretending she was okay.
And then, my phone vibrated.
Her name flashing on my screen.
She was calling me.
My hands trembled as I answered it, the lump in my throat too thick to swallow.
“If you keep begging, I have no choice but to block—” I said, my voice sharp, defensive—hating myself instantly for sounding so cold when all I wanted was to fall apart too.
I hated it. I hated the way I was acting. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t who I was when it came to her.
“Please,” she said, her voice trembling so badly it shattered something inside me. “Can you not be harsh right now? Please. Just… be soft. Even for a moment. I’m hurting too.”
I bit my lip so hard it almost bled, trying not to sob into the phone.
I’m sorry, love.
“You don’t have to say anything. Just listen. That’s all I ask. Just let me talk, kahit ngayon lang. Please stop shutting me out like I never mattered. Like I was just a temporary part of your life.”
It felt like someone twisted a knife deep into my chest, twisting, turning, again and again. Every word was a slash across my skin, exposing all the wounds I thought I could hide.
I wanted to throw the phone away just to stop hearing her voice because it hurt so much to know I was the reason for her tears.
“I’ve been asking myself this one question again and again: Was your love real? Or was I just convenient? Someone to hold for a little while until you found your way back to someone else?”
No. No, it was real. Every second of it was real. You were never just someone to pass the time. You were the whole damn time, the whole damn world.
“Do you remember when we first met? Sa kitchen pa ‘yon, diba? You were reaching for snacks you couldn’t get, and you were cursing under your breath—akala mo walang nakakarinig. I helped you reach them, and you just rolled your eyes at me like I was the most annoying person on earth.”
I laughed through the tears streaming down my face. Of course I remembered. How could I forget? Even when you forgot about me later on, even when you moved on, I still held onto that memory like it was sacred.
“But I found it cute. I don’t even know why. Maybe because in that moment, you were just so… real. No pretenses. No walls. Just this grumpy, honest girl who didn’t care what anyone thought.”
You always saw through me. You saw the real me, even when no one else bothered to look.
“And something about that pulled me in.”
I closed my eyes, letting her voice drown me. Every word she spoke was a reminder of everything I was losing—and everything I could never have back.
“I never thought I’d fall in love with someone like you. Hell, I didn’t even believe in real love before you. I was a mess, always joking my way through life, dating for fun, not for keeps. Everyone knew me as the confident one. The playgirl. But then you came in and messed everything up. In the best way. And the worst.”
I covered my mouth with my hand, stifling a sob. She was right. I ruined her. I ruined the bright, happy girl she used to be. All because I loved her too much—and was too much of a coward to stay.
“You made me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of. Vulnerability. Safety. Joy. And then you made me feel this too—this heartbreak that doesn’t seem to end.”
I leaned against the tree beside me, sliding down until I was sitting on the cold ground, clutching the phone to my ear like it was the only thing tethering me to life.
“I gave you everything. All the parts of me I kept hidden from the world. Lahat ng soft parts, lahat ng fears, lahat ng hopes ko—I handed them to you. And you held them. And then one day, you just… dropped them.”
My chest ached so badly I could barely breathe. I didn't mean to drop you. I dropped myself somewhere along the way, and you just got caught in the fall.
“It’s not fair. You told me you loved me. And I believed you. I still believe you. That’s the most fucked up part.”
Because it was true. It was always true. I loved you with every fiber of my being. Even when I walked away, the love stayed.
“I wish I hated you. That would be easier. I wish I could say I was over you, that I didn’t care. But I can’t. Kasi mahal pa rin kita. And maybe that’s stupid. Maybe I’m stupid.”
No, love. You're not stupid. I'm the stupid one. For thinking that pushing you away would hurt less than staying.
“I’m not calling to win you back. I’m not here to beg for a second chance. I just wanted you to know… you mattered. You still do. Even after everything. Even when it hurts.”
Her voice broke on the other end of the line, and the sound of her sobs—so raw and uncontrolled—was unbearable.
It felt like someone was scraping my heart raw with shattered glass, each cry digging deeper than the last.
I clutched the phone tighter, my knuckles white, my body trembling as if trying to hold back an emotional earthquake.
She kept talking, pouring everything out—pain, confusion, desperation. Her voice cracked in places I never wanted to hear it break. I sat there in the dark, curled into myself on the dirt. tears silently pouring down my cheeks. I cried like a child who lost something they could never get back.
And I said nothing. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t.
My throat was thick with emotion. Words wouldn’t come. My lips trembled from the effort of trying to stay strong, but I was failing. Failing miserably.
Then she asked the question I wasn't ready to hear.
“Cynthia, minahal mo ba talaga ako?”
The words struck me like a thunderclap in the chest. I could feel them reverberating through my ribcage, as if she had spoken directly to my heart. Her voice was desperate, breathless, raw. A final plea. A quiet hope clinging to the edge of devastation.
“In those moments when we were together—when we laughed, when we kissed, when we hugged, when we comforted each other—did that mean anything to you? Did you ever love me?”
And that was it. I couldn’t hold back anymore.
The dam I had been building for weeks—trying to be strong, trying to keep my distance—finally burst. My entire body shook from the force of it, and the words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them.
“I did.”
There was a pause on the line.
A silence so thick, so deafening, it drowned out the sound of my own ragged breaths. I saw her on the other end, frozen, eyes wide, lips parted as she held her breath—waiting, praying, grasping for the truth in my voice.
“Y-you did?” she asked, voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. There was a flicker of something in her tone—hope, fragile and aching. “Then what did you mean about last time? Hindi mo 'yon totoo sinabi, ‘di ba? Cynthia, please… sabihin mo lang na hindi mo sinasadya…”
I could hear her heart breaking. Not in words—but in the silences, the cracks in her voice, the way her breathing hitched.
I wanted to scream. To tell her everything. To beg for forgiveness.
But the truth was more complicated than either of us deserved.
The silence between us now felt heavier than ever. It wasn’t just silence—it was a decision, teetering on the edge.
"I don't mean it. I'm sorry."
I could almost hear it. The shattering sound of her heart. Not a physical noise, but a feeling—an unbearable pressure on my chest, like all the air in the world had been sucked away.
“W-what?" she managed to whisper.
Her voice was so small, so lost.
“I can’t stay,” I repeated, each word dragging its weight behind it like chains around my ankles. “Not because you did anything wrong. Not because I don’t love you. I do. God, Sylvia… I do.”
There was a choked sound on her end, like a sob caught halfway out of her throat.
“Then why?” she cried. “Cynthia, kung mahal mo ako, bakit mo ko iiwan?”
I closed my eyes. It would have been easier to lie again. Easier to give her something to hate.
But I didn’t want to lie anymore.
“Because love doesn’t always mean holding on,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, thick with tears I couldn’t stop. “Sometimes it means knowing when to let go. Even if it hurts.”
And it did hurt.
God, it hurt like hell.
Her sobs tore through the line again—this time more broken, more desperate. Each one twisted inside my stomach like a knife.
“Hindi mo pwedeng gawin ‘to sakin. Hindi mo pwedeng sabihing mahal mo ako tapos aalis ka lang.”
I pressed a hand against my mouth, trying to silence the sobs that threatened to burst out. But I couldn’t.
“I wish I could give you more answers,” I whispered hoarsely. “I really do. But I need you to trust me when I say that this… this is for the best.”
“Bullshit,” she spat, her voice raspy with pain and betrayal. “Kung mahal mo ako, you’d fight for me. You’d stay.”
I shut my eyes tighter, tears falling faster.
“I can’t.” The words left my lips like shards of glass. “Sylvia, I don’t want to give you false hope. This isn’t a break. This isn’t something we’ll fix in time. I’m not coming back.”
And saying that felt like tearing my own soul apart.
Because it wasn’t true.
It was the biggest lie I’d ever told.
“Then bakit mo pa sinabi na mahal mo ako?” she whispered, voice low and shaking, like she was barely holding on. “Para saan pa? Para lang mas masaktan ako?”
“I said it because it’s the truth,” I said, swallowing hard, my throat raw. “You deserve to know that you were loved. Deeply. Honestly. You still are. But sometimes love isn’t enough to stay.”
"Kung may problema ka, Cynthia… kung may pinagdadaanan ka, sabihin mo. Hindi ko kailangan ng explanation, gusto ko lang malaman na hindi mo ako binura.”
"You weren’t erased," I said with conviction, pain thick in every syllable. "You never will be. You’re the kind of person who stays with someone, even long after they’re gone."
“Don’t say that…” she whispered. “Please… please don’t talk like you’re already leaving me behind.”
“But I am,” I said, and my voice cracked under the weight of it.
There was silence again. Then, so softly I almost didn’t hear it:
“I love you.” Her voice broke completely.
I crumpled in on myself, pressing my forehead against my knees, letting the phone rest against my heart. My body shook with sobs. I didn’t bother to stop them anymore.
"You mean everything to me, Sylvia. You always have. But… I can’t be with you. I want to, God, I want to so badly. But I can’t. Not right now."
My voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. I took a shaky breath, one that felt like it scraped the inside of my lungs.
“What I said the last time we talked… I didn’t mean any of it. You don’t disgust me. You never have. I only said those things to make you hate me. I thought that if you hated me, it would be easier for you to let me go.”
The memory of what I’d said to her—cold, cruel things I’d forced myself to say—haunted me now. They echoed in my mind like ghosts.
“I thought… if I made you angry enough, maybe it would hurt less for both of us. But it was cruel, and I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared. Scared of dragging you down with me. Scared of how much I needed you.”
There was only silence on the line. But it wasn’t empty.
It was filled with everything unspoken. With the weight of everything we were losing.
“So please,” I whispered, barely able to breathe, “please just… let me go. Don’t hold on to me. Don’t make this harder than it already is. I love you so much, but I have to do this. I have to go.”
Another long pause. Time stretched out between us like an open wound.
“If it makes it easier… hate me. Just hate me. But don’t wait for me, Sylvia. Please… don’t wait.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. Then:
"Do you really want me to let go of you?" she asked, her voice broken, begging for something—anything—to hold onto. "Kung bibitawan kita… magiging masaya ka na ba? Will you finally be okay without me?"
I swallowed, my mouth dry, my heart screaming no.
But still, I forced the word out.
“Yes.”
It tore something inside me open.
"I love you so much, Cynthia," she whispered, her voice now completely shattered. "Walang minuto, walang oras, araw, o kahit buwan na hindi kita minahal..."
Each word was a dagger. And I let them stab me. Over and over. Because I deserved it.
She inhaled shakily, her courage hanging by a thread.
"Sabihin mo lang, Cyn… if you ever want me back in your life… if there’s even the smallest space left for me, hindi ako magdadalawang isip. I’ll come running."
God, how I wanted to scream. Yes. Stay. Please don’t go.
But I said nothing.
And then, as if the pain wasn’t enough—
"I heard you're getting married next week… to Theo."
A lie. A cruel, desperate lie I told her, just to make sure she would hate me enough to walk away.
“Please be happy with him. I’ll be cheering from afar. Even if it breaks me.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then she spoke again—so softly, I had to strain to hear.
“And… for one last time… can you greet me?” Her voice cracked like glass. “It’s my birthday today.”
I placed the phone against my chest, over the place where my heart still beat for her.
"Happy birthday, Sylvia," I whispered.
And then… she ended the call.
And I broke.
I ran. I ran until my legs gave out, until my chest burned from the lack of air. I didn't even know where I was going. All I knew was the pain—the unbearable, suffocating pain.
I collapsed somewhere, somewhere dark, and I cried like I had never cried before.
Cried for the love I lost.
Cried for the girl I couldn’t keep.
Cried for the life that could’ve been ours.
"I wanted to stay," I whispered again, my voice breaking under the weight of everything I could never say.
I buried my face in my trembling hands, gasping for air that refused to fill my lungs, my chest tightening until it felt like I would shatter apart piece by piece.
I didn’t want to die. Not anymore.
Not now—not when I had finally found a reason to fight.
Not when I had finally found her.
Sylvia.
Just her name made my entire being ache.
I wanted to scream it into the universe, to carve it into the stars so that even when I was gone, the world would still know:
It was her. It was always her.
I thought I was beyond salvation.
I thought I was too broken, too tired, too late to ever love anyone the way they deserved to be loved.
And then she looked at me—really looked at me—and suddenly I wasn’t invisible anymore.
Suddenly, I mattered.
She saw every ugly, battered part of me and still smiled at me like I was something beautiful.
And God, I loved her.
I loved her more than I ever thought I could love anything in this life.
More than I loved myself.
More than I feared dying.
More than I feared anything.
I loved her in ways I didn’t have words for.
It wasn’t just the soft, easy kind of love.
It was a desperate kind of love—a love that clawed at my ribs, that set fire to my blood, that made me want to tear down the world just to give her a better one.
If the universe asked for my soul in exchange for her smile, I would have given it without thinking.
I wanted to be the one who caught her when she stumbled.
I wanted to be the reason she laughed, the arms she ran to when she was scared, the quiet home she came back to after chasing all her dreams.
I wanted every version of her.
The strong, brilliant, stubborn Sylvia who never gave up.
The vulnerable Sylvia who cried when no one else was looking.
The angry Sylvia who fought for what was right.
The soft Sylvia who kissed like she was pouring every piece of her soul into me.
I wanted her mornings.
Her afternoons.
Her late, exhausted nights.
Her wild, messy dreams and her quiet, terrifying fears.
I wanted to grow old with her.
I wanted to hold her hand when the world got too heavy.
I wanted to dance with her in the kitchen when we were too tired to go out.
I wanted to memorize every line on her face as the years passed, to fall in love with her over and over again, no matter how much time tried to wear us down.
I wanted to fight with her and make up with her.
I wanted to raise children with her, teach them to be stubborn and brave and kind like their mother.
I wanted to be the one to tell her, every single day, that she was enough. That she was extraordinary. That she was loved beyond measure.
I wanted forever with her.
And now forever was slipping through my fingers like water, no matter how tightly I tried to hold on.
I curled into myself, the pain too much, too big, too raw to contain.
"I love you, Sylvia," I whispered into the empty night, my voice hoarse and broken.
"I love you so much it’s killing me. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry."
I sobbed until my whole body shook, until my heart felt like it was bleeding out of me with every gasping breath.
She deserved so much more than this.
She deserved a partner who would stand beside her.
She deserved vows whispered under a sky full of stars, anniversaries filled with laughter, lazy Sunday mornings wrapped in soft blankets and each other’s arms.
She deserved a lifetime.
And all I could give her was a goodbye she didn’t even know was coming.
I had to protect her.
Even if it meant letting her hate me.
Even if it meant dying with all these words still trapped inside me.
I pressed a hand against my chest, as if I could physically hold the pieces of my heart together.
"I would have loved you so well," I whispered, my voice barely a breath.
"I would have loved you the way you deserved. Every day. Every hour. For all the lifetimes I’ll never get."
Tears blurred my vision, turning the world into a mess of color and grief.
"If there’s a next life..." I gasped, my throat raw from crying, "please—please find me. And I promise... I’ll stay. I’ll fight. I’ll live. For you. Always for you."
The wind answered with a soft, mournful sigh, and I imagined it was her voice, whispering back to me.
I closed my eyes and let myself believe, just for a moment, that somewhere—somehow—our story wasn’t ending.
That somewhere beyond the pain, beyond the dying, beyond everything I couldn’t fix—there was a version of us that made it.
A version where I stayed.
A version where we had all we were meant to have.
A version where love didn’t come too late.
"I love you, Sylvia," I said one last time, my voice breaking under the weight of everything I could never give her.
"And I’ll keep loving you... even when I’m gone."
When I was a kid, I wanted to die.
What was the purpose of living when my family wasn’t even beside me?
I tried to commit suicide multiple times but failed to disappear.
But now, everything changed when I met her.
I want to live — God, I really want to.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to live because of her.
God, I want to live, for her.
I'm begging.
---
Athena Iris Diaz Gomez POV
"Argh! I'm so tired," I muttered under my breath, voice barely audible as I sank into the driver's seat of my car.
The day had been brutal — a never-ending meeting that stretched for hours, draining every ounce of energy left in my body.
My head ached, my shoulders were stiff, and my soul felt like it had been wrung dry.
As soon as I closed the car door behind me, I slumped forward, resting my forehead against the steering wheel.
For a moment, I allowed myself to just breathe.
Slowly.
Deeply.
I shut my eyes, trying to drown out the whirlwind of stress spinning in my head. The low hum of the city outside blurred into the background.
After a minute, I sat up, forcing myself to move. I reached into my bag, sifting through the crumpled receipts, pens, old sticky notes, and folders I hadn’t cleaned out in weeks. My fingers searched blindly, desperate for the one thing I needed.
“Come on… where are you,” I whispered.
At last, my fingers grazed the familiar edge of my phone. I pulled it out quickly, already thinking about the dozens of work emails and group chats I’d probably missed.
But as soon as the screen stayed black, my heart dropped.
Dead.
Lowbat.
"Great," I muttered sarcastically, throwing my head back against the seat with a frustrated sigh.
Rolling my eyes, I leaned over to open the glove compartment, sifting through old chargers, mint wrappers, and receipts until my hand found what I was looking for — a half-used powerbank. Thank God.
I plugged the phone in, letting the cord dangle awkwardly while I adjusted myself deeper into the seat. My body begged for just a moment of rest — a few minutes to close my eyes, to detach from the chaos of the day.
And I gave in.
Just a minute, I told myself. Just one minute.
But that minute didn’t last.
Not even five minutes later, my phone started buzzing — violently.
*Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.*
Non-stop vibrations, the kind that send your heart straight to your throat.
Napakunot-noo ako. My brows furrowed, confusion turning quickly into dread. Hindi normal 'to. Something was off. Way off.
I grabbed my phone with trembling fingers and unlocked it.
And that’s when the messages hit me like a truck.
>> Ma'am Gomez, isn't Cynthia Lim Sevilla Sanchez your friend? She's in the surgery room right now.
Sent: 5 hours ago.
My vision went blurry.
Five. Fucking. Hours. Ago.
No. No, no, no. While I was stuck in that goddamn meeting… Cynthia—Cynthia was…
I scrolled faster, the knot in my stomach tightening with every message.
>> Answer our call, please. Cynthia is in the surgery room.
15 missed calls.
>> Nasa surgery room si Cynthia! We don't know what happened. Can you come here? We're totally panicking.
20 missed calls.
>> Did you know what's happening with Cynthia? She's in the hospital now. In surgery.
10 missed calls.
My fingers went numb.
My heart pounded so violently I thought I might throw up.
Cynthia… was in surgery?
What the hell happened?
My mind blanked. I couldn't think straight. I couldn’t process anything. I didn’t even bother replying. I didn’t try to call back. My body just acted on pure instinct.
I turned the ignition. Slammed my foot down on the gas. And drove like hell.
I didn’t care about traffic lights. I didn’t care about speed limits. I didn’t care about angry horns blaring behind me.
I was shaking the entire drive. My knuckles were white against the steering wheel.
All I could think about was her.
Cynthia.
Please be okay. Please, please be okay.
Every red light I ignored felt like a lifetime. Every second lost felt like betrayal.
When I reached the hospital, I didn’t even bother parking straight. The tires screeched as I came to a hard stop. I threw the door open, barely remembered to grab my phone, and ran toward the ER entrance.
My lungs burned. My legs felt like jelly. My vision was tunneled.
Then I saw them.
Seinna, Diana, and Samantha — huddled together outside the double doors of the surgery room.
Their faces were buried in their hands. Their shoulders trembled violently. And their cries… God, their cries echoed down the hallway.
My chest tightened.
No. No. Please, no.
This isn’t happening.
I sprinted toward them, breath ragged and uneven.
"What happened?!" I shouted, voice cracking, panic rising with every step. "What the hell happened?!"
None of them looked at me.
None of them could speak.
They just kept crying — like something inside them had already broken beyond repair.
"Hindi kayo sasagot?!" I screamed, voice shattering. "What the hell happened?! Tell me!"
It was Samantha who finally lifted her head. Her eyes were swollen, her lips trembling. Her face was streaked with tears, and she looked like she was barely holding herself together.
"C-Cynthia..." she whispered, her voice cracking, "Cynthia is... gone."
I froze.
Everything around me stopped.
Gone?
Gone?
What…?
"W-what?" I barely recognized my own voice. It was small. Shaky. Lost.
Diana screamed — a raw, agonizing scream that cut straight into my bones. She collapsed onto the cold hospital floor, sobbing, pounding her fists into the tiles with a rage only grief could give birth to.
"How could you leave us like this, Cyn?!" she wailed. "Ang unfair mo!" Her voice broke again and again. "Hindi mo man lang sinabi sa amin na may sakit ka! Hindi ka man lang nagsalita! You just... left us!"
I staggered backward, vision swimming in tears. I leaned against the wall, gasping, shaking, desperate for air that wouldn’t come.
This can’t be real.
This is a nightmare.
My knees threatened to give out, and that’s when I looked up.
My eyes landed on the screen above the surgery room doors.
The cruel, indifferent glow of red text.
And in that moment… the world stopped spinning.
Time of Death: 12:54 AM, April 06, 2025.