Kate poured her heart out last night.
The entire afternoon was a blur of tears, laughter in-between sobs, and the clinking of cheap brandy in plastic cups. She and Riz, sitting under the dim fairy lights Riz strung up months ago, surrounded by dying plants and broken dreams.
They finished three bottles of Alfonso.
Kate had never gone that far.
She wasn't even a drinker.
But last night?
Last night, she needed it.
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[FLASHBACK]
"Bakit siya, Riz?" Kate said, swaying a little as she raised her cup again. Her cheeks were flushed, her voice cracking. "Bakit kailangan pa siya? Ang dami namang iba d'yan… pero siya pa rin 'yung pinili kong pagpilitan."
Riz poured another shot, voice steady but gentle. "Kasi mahal mo, Kate. Hindi mo pinili. Nangyari na lang. Nagising ka na lang isang araw, siya na 'yung tinitibok ng puso mong ewan kung tanga o loyal lang."
Kate laughed bitterly, tears already falling again. "Bakit ba ako nag-stay kahit ang labo-labo namin? Bakit kahit walang label, okay lang sa'kin? Kasi may chance? Kasi umaasa ako?"
She leaned back on the patio floor, her gaze on the sky. "Binabash ko pa dati 'yung mga umiiyak tapos umiinom, Riz. 'Yung mga nagma-My Day ng alak at heartbreak quotes. Pero ngayon… I get them. Kasi ako na ngayon 'yon. Ako na 'yung babaeng minahal ng paunti-unti tapos iniwan bigla."
Riz was silent, just holding her hand.
And that was enough.
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[PRESENT – THE NEXT MORNING]
Kate woke up feeling like her brain was being jackhammered from the inside.
Her mouth was dry. Her stomach uneasy. Her arms tangled in a thin blanket she didn't remember pulling over herself. She blinked groggily at the daylight streaming in through the window.
Her head pounded. She could still feel the alcohol in her veins.
She turned to her side—Riz was there, knocked out cold, one leg hanging off the bed and snoring slightly. She looked as wrecked as Kate felt.
She felt guilty for her friend for being a burden. Napainom pa tuloy ito dahil sa kaniya…
Kate groaned softly, pressing her fingers to her temples.
She reached for her phone.
Her thumb hovered over Frooze's name.
Nothing.
No missed calls.
No messages.
No "Are you okay?"
Her heart twisted.
So this is really it? Ganun ganun nalang talaga? Wala na?
She stared at his name.
Then—without thinking, without planning, with drunk tears and a hungover heart still calling the shots—she hit call.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then—"Hello?"
His voice.
She swallowed. "Frooze…"
There was a pause. "Kate?"
"I…" her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "I think I'm still drunk. Nakaubos ako ng tatlong alfonso."
He let out a breath—half worry, half restraint. "Why did you drink that much? Are you alone?"
"No. Riz is here," she muttered. "Passed out. Like me. But I'm awake. Thinking."
"Kate…" he sounded tired. But concerned. "You should get some water. Eat something. Sleep more."
Her heart clenched. "Is that all you have to say?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Something," she whispered. "Anything. I just… I woke up, and you're still not here."
He was silent.
"I thought you cared," she added, voice trembling. "I really thought… you liked me."
"I did," he said quietly. "I do."
"But you left."
"I had to."
"Why?" her voice cracked now. "Why did you let me stay so long, let me fall, let me believe we were something—then leave me when I was finally ready to fight for it?"
Frooze didn't answer immediately.
"Because I didn't want to fake it," he said at last. "You deserve someone sure of you."
"And you're not?"
"I thought I could be. I thought I'd catch up to your love. But the truth is, Kate… I'm not there."
She closed her eyes. Her chest tightened.
"So that's it?"
"I don't want to hurt you more by holding on when I know I can't give what you need."
"But you already did," she said, her voice flat now. "You already hurt me. You gave me just enough to stay. Then walked away when I wasn't useful anymore. You just toyed with me…"
"That's not fair—"
"No, what's not fair is making me believe I was different," she snapped. "When I was just another girl who made it easy for you."
"Kate…"
She shook her head even if he couldn't see it. "You don't have to say anything anymore."
He sighed. "You should rest. You're not okay right now."
"I know," she whispered. "But at least now I know... you're done."
She hung up.
Her hand dropped to her lap, her phone slipping from her fingers.
And in that still, aching silence… it hit her.
He's really done.
Maybe he didn't mean to toy with her.
But it didn't change the fact that she felt like she had been.
She stared at her wall for a long time, the tears not coming—but the ache more present than ever.
And in her mind, a voice kept whispering:
Was I only lovable when I was easy to walk away from?
---
The sun had barely settled past the horizon when Frooze pulled his shirt over his head, trying to fix his collar in the mirror.
His eyes were tired.
He hadn't slept well—again.
The silence in his place had never bothered him before. He used to like it, even. The quiet meant no drama, no noise, no pressure.
But now?
Now, the silence sounded like her absence.
He checked his phone.
No new messages.
It had been like that since the night he said goodbye.
And then—just as he grabbed his keys—
His phone lit up.
Kate.
His breath caught.
He didn't hesitate. He answered before the second ring.
"Hello?"
There was a pause.
Then her voice.
Soft. Weak. Slurred. "Frooze…"
Immediately, his stomach twisted. He stopped in place, the keys dangling from his fingers.
"Kate?" he asked. "Are you okay?"
"I think… I'm still drunk," she said.
He closed his eyes. Damn it. He rubbed his face, his heart racing. "Why did you drink that much? Are you alone?"
"No. Riz is here. Passed out."
He sighed in partial relief, but his worry didn't ease. He could tell from her tone—she was hurting.
"You should drink water," he said quietly. "Eat something. Get some sleep."
"Is that all you have to say?"
Her voice was suddenly sharp. It stung more than it should have.
He swallowed. "What do you want me to say?"
"Something. Anything. I just… I woke up, and you're still not here."
The words struck him in the chest.
She wasn't talking about physical presence. She was talking about everything.
About how he left without even fighting. About how she stayed and he walked away.
"I thought you cared," she continued. "I really thought… you liked me."
"I did," he whispered. "I do."
"But you left."
"I had to."
The conversation spiraled after that.
The way she broke. The way her voice shook. The way she asked him, "Was I just someone to keep around until I got tiring?"
It shattered him.
And then—before he could explain, before he could even form words to defend himself—
She hung up.
Frooze stared at the blank screen for a long moment.
The silence that followed wasn't peaceful.
It was deafening.
He sank slowly into the edge of his bed, phone still in his hand.
His fist clenched.
Toy.
That was the word she used.
"You just toyed with me."
He gritted his teeth, jaw tightening as the weight of her words sank deeper.
He didn't want that.
He never wanted her to think that she was just a passing phase. A convenience. A distraction.
She wasn't.
She was everything he didn't know he could still feel.
Kate came into his life like a slow sunrise—unassuming, quiet, soft. She didn't demand anything. She didn't force her way in. She just stayed. And stayed. And stayed.
And the more she stayed, the more he found himself needing her.
But that was the problem.
He needed her when he was supposed to be healing on his own.
He loved her when he didn't know how to love himself fully again.
He thought pulling away was the right thing. He thought if she hated him, it would be easier for her to forget.
But now he realized—
That hate might be the last thing he ever gets from her.
And it killed him.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, pressing his hands against his face.
He didn't want to be the villain in her story.
He didn't want her to see herself as disposable because of him.
She wasn't just "someone."
She was the one he wanted to stay for.
But he didn't.
He left.
And now?
Maybe he deserved to be hated.
Maybe she needed to hate him to heal.
And if that's the only way she could move forward without him?
Then so be it.
Let her hate him.
Because loving her—and still not being ready—had already destroyed them both.