Epilogue
It's been 1 month now since that event happened.
Me and Sylvia was okay now. Athena explain all what happened when she was not here. She understood why I decided to leave her. But she hope that I did say the truth back then because she would have stay by my side because that's when I needed her the most.
Things happened so quickly—that she became my girlfriend again.
Sylvia was always sylvia. She was the person who was willing to give everything for me. And I, I'm just lucky to have someone like her.
I'm now here in my office, working on some documents. I was always having headache because I always overtime in work. There's a lot of things that I needed to do.
Just as I was about to get back to work, my phone vibrated on the table beside me. The sound cut through the quiet room, pulling my attention away from the screen. I glanced at it absentmindedly—until I saw the name.
I smiled almost instantly. Just seeing that name made my heart feel lighter.
She sent.
A laugh escaped my lips, soft and involuntary. She's adorable. She’s literally my baby. Sweet, clingy, and so unapologetically expressive. It made me want to squeeze her.
Before I could even start typing a response, another message popped up.
Here we go again.
I was about to reply—my fingers had just touched the keyboard—but she didn’t even give me a second to breathe. More messages kept pouring in, one after the other.
Province?
Ah, right. I remember that day now.
It was hot and humid, and I was tired from the walk. She had practically begged me to take a photo. I didn't want to—my hair was a mess, I was sweaty, and I didn’t feel like smiling. But she was so insistent, pouting and nudging me until I gave in.
Even then, I never saw the photo. She refused to show it to me, hiding her phone behind her back like a child hiding candy. I thought she was just being playful. I never expected she'd keep it and actually look at it later.
And then—ding—she sent the photo.
I stared at it as it loaded.
Before I can even respond, someone knock at my door.
*Knock Knock*
Ugh! My secretary keeps telling me to attend an important meeting but I'm tired that's why I told them to cancel it.
"Didn't I tell you I'm not attending the meeting-"
I wasn't expecting who's here. She was wearing black slacks and sleeves white top. Smiling at me as she got inside.
"Hi, love. Why are you so grumpy, hmm?" she said in a soft, teasing voice as she slowly walked toward me, a playful glint in her eyes. "Ang bagal mo mag-reply. May iba kana ba?"
She stopped just a few steps away, arms loosely crossed over her chest, but her tone was still light, trying to hide the slight edge of insecurity behind her playful words.
I looked up at her, a sigh escaping my lips as I ran a hand through my hair. "I’m sorry," I said gently, meeting her gaze. "I was just about to respond, I swear. But you didn’t even give me the chance to explain. You already jumped to conclusions."
She tilted her head at me, clearly still half—joking but with a hint of seriousness underneath.
"And why are you here, anyway?" I added, my voice softer now, more curious than cold. I hadn’t expected to see her, because she was just texting me earlier.
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief. "I miss you," she said, her voice turning playful as she closed the distance between us. "Can't I be here?"
I didn't answer right away, still trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my head. I just sighed, getting up from my seat, walking toward the couch. She didn't need an invitation, of course; she was already following me, her footsteps light and almost eager, as though I were the one thing she was focused on.
"I didn't say that," I muttered, my back to her as I flopped onto the couch, my exhaustion weighing me down more than I liked to admit.
She was right behind me now, and as I sank into the cushions, she leaned over the back of the couch to wrap her arms around me, pulling me into an embrace.
Her cheek rested against mine, and I could feel the warmth of her body as she pressed closer. The scent of her perfume—floral, sweet, familiar—filled the air, and it did little to calm the headache that pulsed at my temples.
"Ang cold mo," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "Is my baby tired? Mhm?"
I didn't reply immediately. I was too focused on the sensation of her fingers trailing up and down my arm, the way she seemed to soothe every part of me with just her touch.
I leaned back into her arms as she hugged me tighter, her breath warm against my neck. Then she did something that took me by surprise—she sniffed me, deeply.
"You smell good," she said softly, her voice thick with affection.
The warmth of her presence, the way she always seemed to comfort me with just her proximity, almost made me forget the headache. Almost.
"Hm. I'm tired and having headache," I muttered, trying to brush it off, but I couldn't deny how good it felt to be held like this, even in the middle of everything.
She squeezed me tighter, her hand moving to my back as she ran her fingers over my shirt. "I can tell. You look like you're carrying the world on your shoulders."
I let out a quiet laugh, the sound weak but real. "Maybe I am," I said, leaning back a little so I could look at her. "But I'm okay. Just need a little rest."
She smiled softly, her fingers brushing through my hair, sending a shiver down my spine. "You know you don't have to do everything on your own, right? I'm here for you. Always."
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting her words settle into my mind. I didn't answer her right away, but I didn't need to. She already knew I appreciated her more than words could ever express.
I didn't say anything. I just reached for her, tugging her close until she was sitting comfortably on my lap, legs draped over mine, her chest pressing softly against me. She shifted, wrapping both arms around my neck, and nuzzled her nose against my cheek.
"I missed you," she murmured. "I miss you in all the little things. I miss teasing you when you're serious. I miss hearing you complain about everything. I miss you even when you text me every hour."
I chuckled weakly, resting my forehead against hers. "I'm sorry. I've been... tired. Overwhelmed. I didn't mean to be distant."
"I know you didn't," she said, brushing her fingers gently through my hair. "But you can lean on me. I want you to lean on me. You don't always have to be the strong one."
Her voice was low, careful. She wasn't just comforting me—she was reminding me that I didn't have to fight alone anymore. That loving someone meant letting them in even when I didn't have the energy to speak.
"I'm just... scared sometimes," I admitted. "That if I let go, everything will fall apart."
She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. "Then let it fall. I'll be here to help you put it back together."
I bit my lip, eyes stinging a little. No one ever said that to me before.
"You're too good to me."
"No," she said immediately, cupping my cheek. "I'm giving you the kind of love you deserve. The kind I hope you never doubt. You think I don't see how hard you work? How you carry everything on your shoulders like you're not allowed to rest?"
She leaned forward, her lips brushing against mine in a whisper-soft kiss. My hands tightened around her waist, needing her closer. When we pulled away, her eyes were glistening, but her smile stayed.
"You don't have to be perfect with me," she said. "You can be tired, sad, angry, messy... and I'll still love you."
I kissed her again.
This time deeper, slower.
Not rushed like we were sneaking moments in between schedules, but patient—like we had all the time in the world.
She responded with the same gentleness, her fingers tracing my jaw, my neck, my shoulder, like she was learning every part of me all over again.
"You have no idea how much I need you," I whispered against her lips.
She smiled, pressing her forehead against mine. "Then let me be here. Let me love you like this."
We stayed wrapped up in each other, our bodies tangled on the couch, her head resting on my chest while my fingers absentmindedly played with strands of her hair. The ticking clock, the rustle of papers, the noise outside—all of it faded.
Only she remained.
After a long silence, she looked up at me with a mischievous smile. "You know what would help with your headache?"
"Hm?"
"Cuddles. Lots of cuddles. And maybe some forehead kisses."
I raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? You think that's the cure?"
She leaned in and kissed my forehead gently. "It always works, doesn't it?"
I chuckled. "Well... you might be right."
"Of course, I'm right," she said, snuggling closer. "Now hush and let me be your cure."
And so I did.
I closed my eyes and let her hold me. Let her kiss my cheeks, my nose, my lips. Let her whisper little nothings like you're doing so well and I'm so proud of you until the ache in my chest slowly melted into warmth.
Eventually, I shifted us so we were lying down on the couch, her head resting on my arm, our legs intertwined. She traced circles on my chest with her fingers, her touch slow and comforting.
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," I whispered.
She looked up with a smile. "You say that like it's a surprise."
"It still is," I said honestly. "Every day I wake up and wonder how I got this lucky."
She leaned in and kissed me again. Soft, lingering. "Then remember this moment. This feeling. Because no matter how hard things get, I'll always be here."
"I love you," I whispered, the words slipping from my mouth like a quiet promise.
She smiled, her eyes crinkling, and whispered back, "I love you always that even words can't express it."
We lay there in silence for a few more minutes, just the soft sound of our breathing filling the room. The warmth between us was enough to make me forget the chaos outside—the unread emails, the unopened files, the canceled meeting.
But of course, it was Sylvia who broke the silence in the most Sylvia way possible.
"Love..." she began, her voice suspiciously casual.
"Hm?" I mumbled, still half-lost in the bliss of her arms around me.
She pulled back just enough to look down at me, raising a brow. "Did you have lunch already?"
I froze.
The silence was loud.
Her eyes narrowed immediately. "Cynthia."
I let out a sheepish laugh. "...I was going to. I just got caught up—"
"Caught up?" she sat up, now straddling me again but with that mom mode energy I both feared and adored. "You didn't eat?"
I winced. "I had coffee?"
"SINCE WHEN WAS COFFEE A MEAL?" she nearly shrieked, smacking my arm lightly. "It's 2:40 in the afternoon, Cynthia!"
"I was working..."
"No. No, no. No excuses." She stood up abruptly, brushing her clothes with her hands like she was preparing for battle. "This is exactly why you're getting headaches. You don't eat, you don't sleep, you stare at your screen for ten hours—what do you expect, love? Enlightenment?"
I tried not to laugh but failed miserably. "I didn't know I was marrying a nutritionist."
She glared at me as she pulled out her phone. "Don't test me. I will become one just to personally manage your meals."
"Sylvia—"
"Nope. I'm ordering now," she said firmly, already tapping away on a food delivery app. "You like that chicken katsu bento from the place down the street, right? I'll get that. And miso soup. And a milk tea, because I know you're going to pout if I don't."
I blinked at her. "You remember my usual?"
She shot me a look like I had just asked the sky why it was blue. "Of course I do. You think I'm just here to look pretty and kiss your stress away?"
"Well... that's a big part of it," I teased.
"Wow," she said, blushing slightly but still smiling. "You're lucky you're cute."
Once she placed the order, she returned to the couch and sat beside me again, arms crossed dramatically.
"You're not allowed to work until the food arrives."
I sighed in mock defeat, leaning my head against her shoulder. "Yes, ma'am."
She tilted her head to kiss my temple, her voice softening again. "I'm serious, Cynthia. You have to take care of yourself. I can't be here 24/7, and I need to know you're not starving in your office."
"I know..." I mumbled, wrapping my arm around her waist. "It's just easier to forget sometimes when everything's piling up."
"Then I'll be the reminder," she said. "Every damn day if I have to. I'll call. I'll text. I'll barge in here like today and lecture you until you eat. I don't care. I'd rather be annoying than watch you burn yourself out."
"You're overreacting!" I said, half-laughing, half-exasperated.
But she only chuckled, that soft, teasing laugh of hers that made it impossible for me to stay annoyed.
"Overreacting?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, do you think I went through all those sleepless nights and impossible exams in medical school for nothing?"
I blinked at her, confused. "Wait, what?"
She sighed, smiling gently as she sat beside me again, her eyes softening. "When Ate called me and told me everything that happened for the last five years—how bad things got with your health—I didn't even hesitate. I knew right then and there... I wanted to do something. I needed to do something."
My heart clenched. I never knew the full story. I never knew what she'd gone through while we were apart.
"So you studied medicine?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She nodded.
"I enrolled the very next week. I told myself, if I ever got the chance to be beside you again, I'd make sure I'd be someone useful. Not just someone who loves you from a distance, not someone helpless on the sidelines. I wanted to be someone who could really take care of you. Who could understand what you're going through. Who could protect you, even from yourself."
I stared at her, completely speechless. I didn't know whether to cry, smile, or fall apart in her arms again.
"That's... that's why you were gone for so long?" I managed to say.
She nodded again, this time more slowly.
"That's why I'm sorry I came back late. I wasn't ready then. I had so many flaws, so many things I needed to fix about myself. But every day, I worked hard. I studied, I grew, I healed. Because I wanted to become the kind of person who deserves to stand beside you."
I could feel my throat tightening, emotions rising like a wave I couldn't stop. "You didn't have to do all that..."
"Yes, I did," she said firmly, reaching out to hold my hand. "Because loving you isn't just about saying the words. It's about showing up. Growing up. Becoming better—not just for myself, but for us."
Her thumb rubbed slow circles on the back of my hand as she added, softer this time, "I didn't want to come back until I was someone I could be proud of. Someone you could be proud of."
I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled her into a tight embrace, burying my face in her neck.
"You're already more than enough," I whispered. "You always have been."
She held me just as tightly, her voice cracking a little. "And you're the reason I kept going."
Before either of us could say another word, a knock interrupted our silence.
*Knock knock.*
Sylvia gently pulled away from the hug, brushing her thumb under my eye like she was wiping away tears I didn't even realize had fallen. "That must be the food," she said with a soft smile, her voice still a little shaky but full of warmth.
She stood up, straightened her blouse, and headed toward the door. I watched her, still in awe of everything she just said. Everything she did for me.
When she returned, she was holding two brown paper bags, the aroma already filling the room with that comforting scent of warm rice, fried goodness, and soup.
"Your favorite," she said proudly, setting the bags down on the coffee table.
"Chicken katsu bento with miso soup and extra pickled radish. And of course..."
She reached into the bag again with a flourish. "Milk tea. 50% sugar. No pearls, because you hate chewing when you're tired."
I blinked in surprise. "You remembered all of that?"
She grinned, handing me the drink. "I remember everything about you, Cynthia. Even the tiniest things. Especially the tiniest things."
I took the drink and smiled, genuinely touched. "You're too much."
She gasped dramatically, hand on her chest. "Excuse me? Too much? I just brought you salvation in a paper bag!"
I laughed, finally feeling lighter. We sat together on the couch as she unpacked the containers, laying them out carefully like she was preparing a fancy meal in a five—star restaurant.
She handed me chopsticks and pushed the container closer. "Now eat. No arguing."
"Yes, Doctor Sylvia," I teased, earning a playful glare.
I took the first bite and almost moaned. "Oh god... This is exactly what I needed."
She watched me like she was feeding a sick child, her eyes satisfied. "Told you. Good food, good love, and me. That's the ultimate prescription."
We ate in silence for a few moments, the room filled only with the soft clinking of utensils and occasional sips from our drinks. Every now and then, she'd sneak a bite from my bento, grinning mischievously like a thief caught in the act.
"Hey, that's mine," I protested as she took another piece of katsu.
"Ours," she corrected, chewing happily. "What's mine is yours."
"Then your fries are mine later."
"Touch my fries and die."
We both burst out laughing.
That laughter—that warmth—wrapped around the room like sunlight after a storm. And for the first time in a long while, I felt like everything might actually be okay.
"Btw, let's go on a date later. Doon sa favorite spot ko. Hindi na 'ko kasi nakakapunta doon, I miss the street food there," she said, her eyes gleaming with childlike excitement.
I looked up from my almost-empty bento box, chopsticks still in hand, and smiled.
"Okay," I said softly, no hesitation in my voice. "Let's go."
Her entire face lit up. "Talaga? You mean it?"
I nodded, sipping the last of my milk tea. "Yeah. I mean it."
She let out a soft squeal and clapped her hands like a kid winning a prize. "Oh my god, love! I'm so excited. As in, sobrang tagal ko na 'di nakapunta ro'n. I used to go there after class just to eat kwek-kwek and isaw!"
I chuckled, her energy rubbing off on me. "You're acting like I've never seen you devour ten sticks of fishball in one sitting."
She gave me a proud smirk. "Because you haven't seen me when I'm truly in my element. Street food Sylvia is a different breed."
"Well then," I said with a soft laugh, "I'd like to meet her tonight."
"Aba!" she grinned. "Be careful what you wish for."
We laughed quietly together as we finished the last bits of our food. The warm bento sat heavy in my stomach, soothing the sharp ache that had lingered there all day. My headache, which had once been pounding, was now barely a whisper. Maybe it was the food. Or maybe... it was just her.
When I leaned back on the couch, I felt it—the drowsiness, slow and inevitable, creeping into my limbs like a tide. My eyelids started to grow heavy, and my body sagged into the cushions as the post-lunch haze took over.
Sylvia noticed immediately.
"Pagod ka na, 'no?" she said, brushing a stray strand of hair away from my face.
I let out a quiet sigh. "Mmm... yeah. Just a little nap. I'll be fine after."
She shook her head, her voice soft but firm. "Don't say 'just a little.' You need it. You've been pushing yourself too hard."
I was about to argue but her fingers were already threading through my hair, massaging my scalp gently-like a lullaby in motion.
"Sleep, love," she whispered, kissing my temple. "I'm not going anywhere."
I let myself sink into the couch. The soft fabric, her touch, her scent... it all wrapped around me like a blanket. My mind slowed, my muscles relaxed, and the next thing I knew—I was gone.
I didn't know how long I'd been asleep, but the world was dark when I opened my eyes. The soft yellow light of the lamp above the desk was the only thing illuminating the room.
The couch felt colder without her next to me.
I blinked a few times, my vision adjusting, heart skipping just a little at the sight in front of me.
There she was.
Sylvia.
Sitting at my desk.
Her sleeves rolled up, hair pulled into a loose bun.
She was typing something on my laptop with one hand and flipping through one of my printed reports with the other.
The desk was a mess—highlighters, pens, sticky notes, open folders—but somehow she looked like she belonged there.
Like she had always been part of this space, this life.
I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Sylvia?"
She turned, startled, then smiled when she saw me awake.
"Hi," she said softly. "Did I wake you?"
I shook my head. "No... What are you doing?"
She turned back to the screen. "Just finishing your report. The one you were too stressed about to eat lunch over."
My eyes widened. "Wait—what?"
She pointed at the screen. "I read through your notes. Don't worry, I didn't touch anything important. Just helped organize it. Finalized the formatting. Checked the data summary. Cleaned up some of the charts too."
"Sylvia..." I stood up, still groggy but wide-eyed now. "You didn't have to do that."
She looked over her shoulder at me again. "I know. But I wanted to."
I walked toward her slowly, heart hammering in my chest. "Why?"
She leaned back in the chair, arms crossed loosely over her chest.
"Because I want to be part of your life," she said simply. "Not just the sweet moments. Not just the cuddles, the kisses, the laughter. I want to be there in the stress. In the deadlines. In the things that make you tired and anxious. I want to carry those too."
Her voice was quiet but sure. Every word struck me deep.
"You always carry everything alone, Cynthia," she said. "You say you're okay even when you're not. You push yourself until you break. And I get it—I really do. But I'm here now. I want to help. Even if it's just by finishing one report. Even if it's just by making sure you eat."
I sat down on the edge of the desk, facing her. My throat was tight again.
"You're not a burden," she said, reaching out to take my hand. "Your stress isn't something I want to avoid. It's something I want to face with you."
I couldn't speak. I just looked at her—this woman who had walked back into my life not just with flowers and apologies, but with open arms and sleeves rolled up, ready to help me hold the weight I'd forgotten how to share.
"I don't deserve you," I whispered, voice cracking.
She squeezed my hand. "Don't say that. You deserve someone who sees how brilliant you are even when you're exhausted. Who loves you in the chaos. Who picks up your pen when your hand gets too tired."
She looked at the screen again. "Besides... your report was good. It just needed a little love."
I laughed softly, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. "You're unbelievable."
She smiled, pulling me gently into her lap the way I had pulled her earlier. "And you're tired. Come here."
I leaned against her chest, arms wrapping around her. The desk chair creaked under our weight but I didn't care. Her heartbeat was steady. Her arms were warm. Her presence filled every space I didn't even know was empty.
"You know," I mumbled against her shoulder, "most girlfriends would've just waited for me to wake up."
"Good thing I'm not most girlfriends," she said with a wink. "I'm the love of your life."
I chuckled, closing my eyes again. "Yeah... yeah, you are."
---
We arrived at Lola Marie's place, the familiar spot where Sylvia and I used to buy street food together. It had become a part of my routine, something I always looked forward to after a long, tiring day. As soon as we stepped into the small, cozy corner of the street, I could already smell the familiar scent of fish balls, kwek-kwek.
Lola Marie, the owner of the stall, spotted us and greeted me with a warm smile.
"Iha, Cynthia! Buti bumalik ka na. Hala, kasama mo pala si Sylvia," Lola Marie said, her voice full of joy as she waved at me.
I couldn't help but smile back at her, nodding in greeting. Sylvia, who was standing beside me, looked around, her eyes scanning the little food stall before her gaze landed on Lola Marie. She looked a bit surprised.
"Ha? Keylan lang kayo naging close?" Sylvia said, her eyebrows raised in shock.
Lola Marie chuckled at Sylvia's reaction. "Naku, itong si Cynthia lagi pumupunta rito. Nagtatampo nga ako sa'yo, Sylvia, dahil hindi mo man lang ako binisita," Lola Marie teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Sylvia's surprised expression deepened as she glanced at me, almost as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Really? You always go here?" she asked, her tone still laced with disbelief.
I nodded, trying to keep things light.
"Pasensya na po, Lola Marie. Nasa Singapore po kasi ako nun," she explained.
"Oo nga iha, sabi rin ni Cynthia," Lola Marie said, giving her an understanding nod.
As we took our food, we walked towards our usual spot—a small wooden table tucked under a streetlamp, where we used to sit for hours, laughing and talking about everything and nothing at all.
The evening air was cool, and the lights of the city twinkled around us, casting a soft glow on the streets. It felt like the perfect moment to be together, just like old times.
Sylvia sat down first, taking a bite of her fishball as she sighed contentedly. "The best talaga ang fishball. I miss this," she said, her eyes closing as she savored the taste.
I smiled, watching her enjoy the food. It was such a simple thing, yet it felt so special to me. Her relaxed demeanor, the way she closed her eyes when she tasted something good, was so endearing.
"Hindi mo sinabi 'lagi ka pala pumunta rito. Mas close na kayo ni Lola Marie ata," Sylvia teased, giving me a playful grin.
I let out a soft laugh, but my smile faded a little as I thought about everything that had happened. The distance, the time apart, everything that had changed between us. But here, in this moment, everything felt like it was falling back into place.
I looked at Sylvia and, without thinking too much about it, my voice softened.
"Being here reminds me of you," I said, my gaze drifting away to the street in front of us.
"That's why I liked coming here. Waiting for the day that we would come here together again, and here we are. That day finally came."
The words came out almost effortlessly, like a truth I had been carrying around for too long. Sylvia stopped chewing and looked at me for a moment, her expression unreadable. I couldn't quite tell what she was thinking, but her silence made my heart race in an unfamiliar way.
Sylvia's eyes softened slightly, and she let out a quiet laugh. "You're such a romantic," she said, teasing me as always, but there was a hint of something deeper in her tone.
I blushed, suddenly feeling shy. "I'm not," I said quickly, trying to hide my flustered state, but I could feel the heat in my cheeks. Sylvia just smiled, a knowing look in her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, you totally are. But it's cute. I kinda missed that," she said, leaning back in her chair and looking up at the sky. "You know, it's funny... I used to think that nothing would ever be the same again after everything that happened. But sitting here with you now, I feel like nothing's really changed at all."
Her words were so simple, yet they hit me in a way I hadn't expected. She was right. Everything had changed, but in moments like this, sitting in the same spot we used to, it felt like we were just picking up from where we left off.
"I'm sorry," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
She paused, looking at me with soft, curious eyes as she took a bite of the food in front of her. "Mhm? For what, love?" she asked, her tone gentle yet filled with the warmth only she could give me.
I took a shaky breath, gathering the courage to say what was weighing on my heart.
"For everything. For all the times I hurt you. For not being the person you needed me to be. I wanted nothing more than to love you, to give you everything I had. But I wasn't able to do that... Instead, I hurt you time and time again." My voice cracked, and I felt the sting of tears threatening to spill from my eyes. "I never meant to. But I did. And I'm so sorry for that."
I could feel the heaviness of my emotions pressing against my chest, but I refused to look away from her. I needed her to understand.
"I'm not someone who easily says what's on my mind, but I want you to know... I want you to know how much you mean to me. How much I love you." I paused, my eyes burning with the words I had trouble saying out loud.
"I know I've been selfish, I know I've pushed you away when all I should've done was hold you close. But... I want to change. I want to learn, to grow, to be the person you deserve. And I'd do anything for that."
She didn't say anything right away, but she didn't look away either. She just kept watching me, listening intently, and I felt like I could finally let everything spill out.
"You were the first person who made me feel alive again," I continued, my voice thick with emotion.
"Before you, I didn't really care much about anything, let alone about myself. I was in a dark place... I didn't want to keep going, didn't see the point. But then you came into my life. And everything changed. Suddenly, I found myself wanting to live again. To live longer. To be with you. I wanted to grow old with you, Sylvia. I wanted to experience everything with you."
There was a long pause, and I could feel the weight of my confession hanging in the air. She remained silent, her eyes unwavering, but I could see the softness in them, the understanding that she had always had for me, even when I couldn't see it myself.
"I was scared," I said, my voice breaking as I remembered the darkest moments.
"When my sickness got worse, when I started feeling the weight of it all, I was terrified. I didn't want to admit it, not even to myself. I wanted to hold you, to tell you how scared I was, how I didn't know how much longer I could keep going. But... I pulled away. I distanced myself because I didn't want to burden you. I didn't want you to feel the same fear that was eating me alive inside."
I wiped at my eyes, my throat tight.
"But it wasn't just that. I was afraid that if I got too close to you, if I let myself fall any deeper in love with you, I might never be able to let go. I didn't want to fall apart in front of you. I didn't want you to see how weak I was becoming, how much I was struggling. But the truth is, Sylvia... every time I pushed you away, it only hurt more. Because the thought of not being with you, of losing you, it tore me apart."
I let out a shaky breath, the words tumbling out faster than I could process them.
"I love you so much, Sylvia. I've always loved you. And I've been so damn bad at showing it. I didn't know how to express what I was feeling. I didn't know how to let you see the depth of it. I kept telling myself that I couldn't show you the real me because I was scared. Scared that if I did, you'd see the broken parts of me that I've tried to hide for so long."
"But now... now I'm telling you the truth. I prayed to survive, not for myself, but for you. You were the reason I wanted to live. You were the reason I fought through each day. It wasn't just about surviving anymore, Sylvia. It was about being here for you. About being with you. I wanted to be the person you could lean on, the person you could trust, the person you deserved."
I took another shaky breath, looking at her, willing her to understand.
"I'm sorry I wasn't that person sooner. I'm sorry for all the times I hurt you, all the times I made you feel alone when all I wanted was to be with you, to love you the way you deserve. But I'm here now. I'm still here. And I need you to know that I love you, more than anything in this world."
She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she leaned in, her lips gently brushing against mine. The world seemed to stop as I felt the warmth of her kiss, a kiss that spoke of everything we had gone through, all the pain, all the longing, and all the unspoken words. I could feel my tears start to fall, hot and heavy, sliding down my cheeks. I didn't even try to stop them.
They were tears of relief, of gratitude, of love.
Because finally, I was able to tell her everything I had kept hidden inside me for so long.
"I love you," she whispered against my lips, her voice trembling with emotion. "I love you so much."
My heart was beating wildly, as though it, too, was trying to make up for lost time.
"And I appreciate everything you did, love. All of it. Don't ever think you weren't enough. You were never anything less than perfect to me."
My hands reached up, gently wiping away the tears that continued to fall, not just from my eyes, but from hers as well.
Her expression was soft, a mixture of relief and longing, but there was also something else-something I hadn't seen in her eyes before: hope.
"You were the best, love," I said, my voice breaking as I spoke the words I had been dying to tell her for so long. "Better than I could ever ask for."
"Enebe. 'Weg ke genyen. Kenekeleg eke," she said, her voice full of playful nonsense.
I chuckled, shaking my head in amusement. "You're crazy."
She grinned at me, her eyes twinkling with that mischievous light I had come to love. "You're always making me crazy, miss professor."
And we both chuckled.
And so, as the night went on, we just sat there—legs tangled, hearts full—talking about the most random, nonsensical things. We laughed until our sides ached, made fun of each other in the way only people deeply in love could, and filled the silence with stories only we understood.
There was no need for grand declarations or perfect words—just the comforting rhythm of her voice, the warmth of her hand in mine, and the feeling that for the first time in my life, I was exactly where I was meant to be.
You see, I spent so many years of my life thinking I wasn't worthy of happiness. I believed I was too flawed, too guarded, too different to ever be truly loved. I carried that belief like a second skin, convincing myself that people would leave once they saw the real me. I wore loneliness like a badge, telling myself it was safer that way. But then came this girl—this kid with her crooked smile, sarcastic remarks, and the purest heart I've ever known.
She came into my life like a storm and stayed like sunshine.
She made me laugh when I wanted to cry.
She stood by me when I was at my worst.
She never asked me to change, never made me feel like I had to be anyone other than myself.
And most of all, she loved me—not because she needed something in return, not because I earned it—but simply because she chose to.
Sylvia showed me that I was capable of being loved. That I deserved it. She loved me without fear, without limits, and without conditions. She gave me a kind of peace I never thought I would find. And because of her, I've learned to love myself too.
And by the person ending this chapte--I, Cynthia Lim Sevilla Sanchez--declare with all the love in my heart, that I will always love my girl.
My chaos.
My peace.
My future wife, Sylvia Quincy Diaz Gomez.
And I promise, in every lifetime, in every universe, in every version of this story--I will love her much more.
I will give her everything she deserves.
The laughter, the comfort, the home she can always come back to.
This isn't the end, not really.
This is just the beginning of forever.