The rain had just stopped when Kate stepped out of the hospital, her scrubs clinging lightly to her skin from the humidity. It was just past 9 p.m.—another long shift done, another day of saving lives and losing parts of her heart to the weight of it all.
Before her shift could end, chaos erupted.
A multiple-vehicle collision had just occurred along the highway, and their hospital—being the closest private facility—was suddenly flooded with patients.
Bloodied, unconscious, screaming. Some carried. Some limping. Some crying out for loved ones who hadn't arrived with them.
Kate didn't have the luxury to think or feel. She moved like clockwork—gloves on, vitals checked, IV inserted, triage done. She and her fellow nurses worked side by side, barely speaking, only exchanging quick glances and nods that meant: Kaya pa? Tuloy lang.
Every room was filled. Stretchers lined the hallway.
Monitors beeped like screams.
The scent of antiseptic barely masked the metallic tang of blood.
They stabilized who they could.
Those who couldn't afford to stay would be transferred to public hospitals.
A system far from perfect—but tonight, survival came first.
Hours passed in a blur of adrenaline and protocols.
By the time the last patient was wheeled out for transfer, Kate felt her knees almost give out beneath her. Her fingers ached from holding syringes too long. Her throat was dry from too many shouted instructions and not enough water.
But still, she didn't cry.
Instead, she cleaned her hands with practiced ease, took off her gloves, and clocked out silently.
She didn't want to go straight home.
Not with this weight in her chest. Not when silence would only magnify the day's noise.
So she went to her favorite place.
The café at the corner.
A quiet little spot tucked behind a row of flower shops—vintage in style, warm in lighting, always playing soft jazz or something old enough to feel like memory.
She was a regular here. The baristas knew her by name. They knew her order.
"Good evening, Miss Valentine," the barista greeted, already prepping her usual.
Kate gave a small nod, too tired to talk. "Usual, please."
One chamomile tea. One quiet seat by the wall.
No questions asked.
She exhaled, and dropped her bag gently beside the chair she always chose. The lamps cast a soft glow against the wooden shelves, and the smell of cinnamon drifted faintly from the counter.
Peace.
Finally.
She wrapped her cold hands around the warm ceramic mug the moment it was brought to her.
Kate closed her eyes. Let herself just sit.
No monitors. No blood. No pain.
Just… silence.
Until—
A familiar voice. Low. Subtle. Just… behind her.
"Isa pa ngang americano, please. No sugar."
Her heart stopped.
That voice.
That voice she memorized like her own.
Slowly, with a kind of dread that twisted at her gut, Kate turned her head—
And her breath hitched.
There, at a table two rows away, facing the window, sat a man with a slouched posture, his face half-lit by the golden overhead light. One hand held a white mug, the other resting motionless on the table.
Frooze.
Older now. His features sharper, more hollow. He looked thinner. Like life had scraped parts of him off over the years. His eyes, once full of edge and laughter, now looked... tired.
Worn out.
Kate's fingers gripped her mug tighter, the heat biting into her skin.
Her heart was thudding. Loud. Reckless.
What is he doing here?
She hadn't seen him in three years. Not since Mandaluyong. Not since the tour. Not since she walked away—eyes dry, heart ruined.
He hadn't seen her yet.
"Alis na ba ako…?" she murmured.
Kalahati palang ang nababawas sa tea niya pero wala siyang pake. She had to escape this place as soon as possible.
This was unexpected. Hindi niya inaasahan na magtatagpo ulit sila ng landas ng lalaking ito. Faith is cruel.
Nakakainis.
Bakit niya ba nararamdaman ito.
She tried to move. But her feet didn't listen.
"Shit…" mura niya sa sarili.
Fine then!
"Hindi naman siguro na niya ako mapapansin dito. Huwag lang titingin dito."
The barista handed him his drink. He nodded in thanks, and just as he turned to sit again—
Their eyes met.
Time stopped.
His foot paused mid-step.
Kate didn't move.
Neither did he.
Just… silence.
A flicker of something in his gaze—recognition. Regret. Pain.
She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. Her hand still wrapped tightly around her tea, now trembling.
She thought she was over this.
She thought she was past this.
She wasn't.
And it hit her harder than any heartbreak had before.
Because she wasn't the girl from three years ago anymore.
And yet—
He still had the power to shake her like nothing else ever could.
He walked toward her, each step heavy with hesitation.
Tentatively.
Like approaching something fragile—something he already knew he broke.
"Hi," he said. Barely above a whisper. As if the word itself carried an apology.
Kate blinked.
Her lips parted slightly, but there was no softness in her stare.
"Hi," she replied—cool, distant. Not cold, but certainly not warm.
"Pwede ba akong umupo?"
She didn't answer.
She just motioned to the chair across from her with a nod, her expression unreadable.
'The heck? What does he want from me? The nerve of this guy.' Kate thought.
He sat.
Not across from a woman he once held—but a stranger now. A stranger who had learned how to stop needing him.
There was silence.
Not the kind that begged to be filled.
But the kind that held a funeral for everything they could've been.
Then finally, he spoke.
"I heard you passed the boards. Registered Nurse ka na." He tried to smile. "Congratulations."
"Three years late," she said, her tone polite but distant.
He looked down. "Yeah… three years too late."
Another silence.
Then he sighed, rubbing his palms together like he was warming them against cold truth.
"Wala na kami ni Red," he began. "A few months lang din tumagal. Casual. Walang lalim. I tried dating again after her… pero lahat sila, parang… wala. Wala talaga."
Kate said nothing. She just listened. Ano ba naman kasi ang sasabihin niya? Alangan naman matuwa siya? Magtatalon sa saya? Na miserable na ito?
She's not that kind of person.
"I never forgot you," he admitted. "I wanted to. I tried to. I denied everything I felt. Kasi akala ko… hindi pa ako handa. Na kailangan ko munang buoin sarili ko. Pero habang ginagawa ko 'yon, araw-araw kitang naiisip. Pinagsisisihan ko lahat."
She looked out the window. The streetlights blurred against the glass.
"Funny you can say that. Ehh nag girlfriend ka nga even though sinabi mo na you needed no one and you just need your peace. Away.From.Me."
"I was scared," he added. "I hurt you… and I lost you. And now…"
Kate turned to him. Her face was calm.
"You did lose me."
He flinched.
She continued, voice steady but tired, "I waited, Ceath. For answers. For closure. For you. And when I finally learned how to stop waiting… that's when I truly healed." Pero hindi niya maitanggi na hanggang ngayon ay meron pa siyang kakaibang nararamdaman sa lalaki.
And she hate it.
He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.
"I've forgiven you," she said. "But I haven't forgotten how it felt to be the one begging for clarity while you were silent. Hindi ko makakalimutan kung paano mo ako iniwan nang walang salita, tapos isang araw, may iba ka na."
Frooze's lips trembled. "I didn't mean to—"
She shook her head. "You did. Kahit hindi mo sabihin. Your silence said everything. And I believed it."
He looked at her, voice low—almost defeated.
"I don't expect anything. I just... I had to say it. That I never stopped thinking about you."
He paused, eyes scanning her face as if trying to memorize it one last time.
"If things were different… if I was less of a mess back then... maybe I would've held on better."
Another breath.
"I'm not here to fix what I broke. I just—" he swallowed hard, "I just wanted to know if there's still a space for me… even if it's not the same as before."
Kate smiled sadly.
"Gago ka ba? Hindi na ako yung Kate na nakilala mo dati. Yung malambot at madaling utuin na babae. Yung babaeng laging umaasa. Tanga ako kung susubukan kong bumalik sa taong minsan sinaktan na ako."
Her words hit harder than any slap.
"I'm happy now," she added. "Maybe not always. Maybe not perfectly. But I have peace. And that's something I fought hard to earn." Kate said as she took the sip of her tea.
He stared at her, breaking.
She stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder.
"Goodbye, Ceath."
She wanted to stay a little longer—but maybe some things are only worth walking away from. And for the sake of her peace, she had to do it… again.
---
-Ceath's POV-
She stood there—taller, colder, stronger.
And I?
I sat there—still.
Watching her walk away again.
"Goodbye, Ceath."
Her voice echoed, soft but final.
I didn't stop her this time.
I couldn't.
Because the first time she walked away, I let her.
And now that she had learned how to choose herself, there was no undoing it.
My hands curled into fists on the table, the white ceramic mug still warm between them.
But the warmth didn't reach me.
I looked down, swallowed the lump in my throat, and whispered to the space she used to fill.
"You were the right person. And I was the wrong time."
I closed my eyes.
"But maybe I made it the wrong time… because I was too scared to choose you when it mattered."
I sabotaged it.
She showed up. She waited. She risked everything.
And I? I gave her silence.
I called it space. Called it timing. But truthfully…
I called it everything except what it really was—cowardice.
Now she had peace.
And I had her absence.
That's the thing about wrong timing: sometimes, it's not fate's fault.
Sometimes, it's yours.
And by the time you realize she was never asking for perfection—just effort—
She's already learned how to live without you.
I took a shaky breath, looked at the chair she just left, and muttered to myself:
"Right person, wrong timing… because I made it that way."
And for the first time in years,
I cried.
Quietly.
Alone.
I didn't wait for her to come back.
Because I knew…
She never would.
-END-