Manila was loud.
Always moving.
Always rushing.
Just like her thoughts when they first arrived.
Kate had dreaded this city.
Not because of the traffic. Not because of the noise or the endless skyscrapers.
But because he was here.
Frooze.
The man who left her without a proper ending. The one who stayed in her dreams even when she wanted him gone.
She thought she'd spend the whole month falling apart in hospital bathrooms and hiding behind her facemask. That she'd cry between patients, or stare blankly during conferences. That she'd lose herself in grief while pretending to function.
But surprisingly…
She didn't fall apart.
Not completely.
---
They were assigned to two institutions—The Philippine Orthopedic Center and Mandaluyong Mental Hospital. Two places heavy with sorrow and healing. Two places that did not give her room to drown in her own sadness, because others were drowning, too.
And their wounds were visible. Their pain had names.
She remembered her first orthopedic patient—an old man with his leg amputated after a motorcycle accident. He laughed too loudly and told jokes that didn't land.
But he smiled.
And it forced her to, too.
"Nurse, ikaw ha… pakisama mo na 'ko sa research mo. Ako ang pinakagwapong pasyente dito," he said with a wink as she changed his IV bag.
"Gwapong-gwapo po talaga, Sir," Kate replied with a grin. "Kaya lang, hindi po puwede sa case study ang mga gwapo. Delikado po ma-in love ako."
The whole ward laughed. Even her.
Later that day, as she logged vitals and charted observations, a fleeting thought passed:
I laughed today.
It had been a while.
---
At Mandaluyong Mental Hospital, the atmosphere was different. Softer. Slower. Quieter.
Her first psych patient was a 29-year-old woman diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Nagkakaganoon ang pasyente niya kapag hindi ito nakakainom ng maintenance na antidepressant medications niya. In and out patient na ito sa Mental Hospital.
They spoke during their nurse-to-patient interaction.
"Are you okay?" her patient, Estrella asked, catching her off guard.
Kate blinked. "Ako po?"
"Oo. Ikaw. Halata sa mata mo eh. May lungkot."
Kate forced a smile. "Medyo lang po. Pero okay na. Unti-unti."
Estrella looked at her, like she saw through her mask. Then nodded slowly. "You're doing good. Just don't rush. Healing is not a race."
Kate stepped out of that session shaken.
A patient with a fractured mind just mirrored her own.
What if mag-take na rin siya ng anti-depressants?
.
.
.
.
.
So… she worked.
She forced herself to focus.
To show up.
To memorize the names of medications.
To assist during physical therapy.
To learn how to handle a code pink without freezing.
"Kate, pakikuha 'yung chart ni Bed 14. Yung may open reduction case kahapon," her clinical instructor said one morning.
"On it po," she answered, already halfway to the nurse's station.
Another time, she was inside the psych ward, writing down behavioral observations for her paper.
One of the patients randomly said, "Nagmumukmok ka d'yan, may iniwan kang jowa no?"
Kate looked up, surprised, caught mid-note.
She just smiled and shook her head. "Wala pong iniwan. Iniwan po ako."
The whole group chuckled. And so did she.
That's what the days looked like now.
Duty. Notes. Patient care. Laughter. Sleep. Repeat.
She didn't have time to check her phone for messages that would never come.
Didn't allow herself to scroll through the archive where Froozie<3 still sat like a ghost.
The name didn't hurt as much as it used to.
Now, it was just… there.
There were still moments though.
A song playing in a taxi. A laugh that sounded like his. A meal they once shared. And for a split second, it would all come rushing back.
But she learned to breathe through it.
To brush it off like lint on her white uniform.
To choose herself in those little moments.
Because that's what healing had started to feel like:
Not a switch.
Not a single morning of clarity.
But a discipline.
A quiet kind of bravery.
Just choosing not to stay in the pain.
One hour at a time.
One shift at a time.
Days turned into weeks.
There were shifts that blurred into morning.
Unexpected changing of patients that pushed them to their limits.
Paperworks that felt endless.
Patients who thanked her with a smile, even when they couldn't remember her name.
She was tired. Always tired.
But it was the good kind.
The kind of exhaustion that came from living.
One day, she made coffee at the hotel lobby's machine and didn't think of him at all.
She noticed.
And smiled.
She fell asleep one night and didn't dream about him.
She noticed that too.
It had been three weeks.
Now there was just one week left before they returned to Pangasinan.
Kate stood by the hospital's glass window on a late afternoon, clipboard pressed to her chest, the Manila skyline glowing orange in the distance.
She could still feel the ache—small, soft, like a scar.
But she wasn't bleeding anymore.
Manila didn't feel like home.
But it didn't hurt her either.
Maybe that was enough.
She rested her forehead against the cold glass.
Her phone buzzed.
Not Frooze. Not even a thought of him.
Just Riz.
Riz 🦋:
Dinner mamaya? May chika ako. May cute sa dito sa pavilion namin HAHA
Kate chuckled under her breath.
She tapped a reply. "G? Bili tayo milk tea after."
She didn't say "I miss him" today.
She didn't cry today.
She showed up. She worked. She helped someone.
And that was progress.
She was healing.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Thankfully.
---
Three days left.
Only three days before they'd return to Pangasinan.
Kate had been counting—not because she was desperate to leave, but because she could finally feel the end of this bittersweet chapter breathing down her neck.
She had survived almost a month in the same city as him.
And never once did they cross paths.
Not even once.
Maybe she was lucky.
Maybe fate had mercy.
They were in Mandaluyong Mental Hospital, seated on the white benches at the open ward garden—Kate with her second patient, engaged in a relaxed nurse-to-patient interaction. The sun was kind, the breeze was light, and for the first time, she didn't feel like time was dragging. Her first patient was sadly discharged on her 3rd day at the hospital so she was replaced by another patient.
Her patient, a sweet elderly woman named Mercy, was in a cheerful mood.
Magaan na ang loob nito kay Kate. Parng nagclick nga sila agad eh. Just like her 1st patient, bipolar disorder rin ang dahilan bakit ito nandito sa mental. She also forgot to take her medication causing for the patient to be admitted here.
"Ikaw ha, Nurse Kate, lagi mo akong pinapatawa. Kung may award ang pagiging mabait, sayo ko ibibigay 'yun."
Kate smiled, her pen hovering over her assessment paper. "Naku, Mercy, baka po ma-pressure ako niyan."
They laughed.
Until a staff nurse approached her, clipboard in hand.
"Kate?" the nurse called gently.
She stood and tucked her notes away. "Yes po, ma'am?"
"Can you assist your patient to the visitor's room? Her nephew's here to see her—may kausap siyang kasama, mukhang kamag-anak din. Kami nina Doc susunod mamaya. They'll talk about her discharge plan for next week."
Kate nodded. "Sige po."
The staff smiled. "You can stay sa loob, if you want. It's a good opportunity to learn how we communicate with relatives regarding psych patients."
"Noted po, thank you."
Kate turned back to Tita Mercy and offered her hand. "Ready for a little walk, Mercy?"
The old woman grinned, holding onto her arm. "Aba, syempre. Excited ako sa pamangkin ko. Alam mo, Nurse Kate, mabait 'yun. May pagka-suplado lang minsan pero malambing talaga 'yon sa'kin."
Kate chuckled. "Mukhang close po kayo."
"Close talaga. Ako lang ang tumatanggap sa topak niya eh. Buti nga ay bumisita iyon dito. May time na ata siya, super busy nun eh." Mercy laughed.
They turned the corner and started walking down the long, sunlit hallway leading to the visitor's room. Kate kept the conversation light, until—
"Uy, Mercy," Kate asked with a soft laugh, steadying the older woman as they reached the hallway's end, "anong pangalan pala ng pamangkin niyo?"
It was casual.
Automatic.
She was just being polite.
"Ah, si Ceath."
The name landed like a punch to her chest.
Kate stopped.
Completely.
As if the floor beneath her disappeared for a second.
Her grip slipped on Mercy's arm.
Ceath.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
Her fingers, just about to push the doorknob—froze.
Mid-air.
Mid-breath.
Mid-everything.
Her heart didn't just skip.
It stuttered.
Collapsed.
Restarted—too fast, too loud.
Her lungs forgot how to function.
Her mind tried to convince her: It's just a coincidence. It's not him. It can't be him. It's just a name.
But her gut knew.
Her bones knew.
Her grief knew.
Ceath.
Her ears began to ring.
Like the name unlocked something she had buried too deep and too soon.
Her hand, trembling now, turned the knob slowly.
She pushed the door open… just enough to see inside—
And there he was.
Him.
Frooze.
Sitting there, by the visitor's table.
Phone in hand.
Head down.
Casual. Unaware. Just… existing.
But Kate saw the way his leg bounced—like he was nervous.
She saw the way his fingers curled around his phone—like he wasn't sure what to say.
And then, he looked up.
And their eyes met.
The room spun.
Her stomach dropped.
The hallway tilted.
Kate's breath caught in her throat like a scream that never made it out.
He blinked.
She blinked.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them could.
Because what do you do when the ghost you've been avoiding isn't a ghost at all—but a man? A living, breathing, heart-breaking man?
What is he doing here?
Why is he here?
Why now?
Why him?
The questions clawed at her insides.
She wanted to step back.
She wanted to run.
She wanted to disappear into her white shoes.
But her feet wouldn't listen.
Ceath.
The name echoed in her head like a cruel joke.
A name she had whispered once with affection, then cried into her pillow, and now—heard again, from the lips of someone who had no idea what it meant to her.
From behind her, Mercy leaned closer with a smile that didn't know the damage she just caused.
"There he is," she said softly. "Si Ceath. My favorite nephew."
Of course he is.
Of all the patients.
Of all the names.
Of all the cities.
Of all the pavillions.
It had to be her patient's nephew. It had to be him.
Frooze slowly stood, stunned, eyes locked on her.
His lips parted like he wanted to speak—but nothing came out.
He looked at Kate like she was a dream that was now too painfully real.
Kate swallowed the lump in her throat, tried to speak, tried to breathe—but all she could do was stare.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
And then… the door opened all the way.
And her world tilted again.