Jay‑jay
Ten months.
I barely recognize the girl in the mirror anymore. She's calmer, colder — harder.
London did that to me.
My mornings start with coffee instead of chaos, quiet instead of fists. I go to class early, focus on finishing my psychology degree, and smile at people who know nothing about what I've done — or what was done to me.
And most days, it works.
The ring on my finger helps, too.
Drake Sullivan (my fiancé) — smart, charming, British in that polite, almost-too-perfect way. He met me during my third month here, at a university volunteer drive. He liked my bluntness; I liked that he didn't ask about my past.
He laughs gently when I still flinch at Tagalog words on rare occasion.
"You don't owe your past anything," he tells me. And maybe, for now, that's true.
London has given me new names to remember, too:
Mia Lockhart(roommate and study partner and my bestie ) — loud, brilliant, dramatic. The first person who made me laugh after months of silence.
Eli Turner(class clown, brother-figure) — friendly and endlessly talkative, always pestering me to "relax" until I actually do.
Clara Vance(quiet friend) — kindhearted and observant; she reads me better than I want her to.
Drake Sullivan(fiancé) — steady, calm, patient. The complete opposite of Keifer in every possible way.
We share a small apartment now — books on the shelves, plants by the window, everything neat and peaceful.
Sometimes I sit by that window at night and let the city hum around me, trying to imagine what Manila looks like from here. I used to hate this silence. Now, it's my sanctuary.
My new friends know me as "Jay," a girl who's rebuilding her life after a vague "hard past." Even they don't know the full story. Not Mia. Not even Drake.
And definitely not about Keifer.
The past feels like another life — one I buried under coursework, laughter, and an engagement ring that shines brighter than the scars it hides.
But sometimes — some nights — I still dream of the rain.
And the boy who told me he used me.
Every time I wake up from those dreams, I look at Drake sleeping beside me — steady, soft-hearted Drake — and whisper,
"You're the reason I don't look back."
Then I close my eyes and pray Manila never finds me again.