Prologue

Rain has always been honest with me.

It doesn’t pretend. It doesn’t sugarcoat. It doesn’t say “I’m fine” when it’s breaking inside. When it falls, it falls, diretso, walang pasikot-sikot. Tonight, as I sit by the window of my small dorm room, watching the raindrops blur the campus lights, I feel the same way. Parang ako ’yung ulan—heavy, messy, inevitable.

I should be studying for midterms. I should be highlighting notes, rereading chapters, pretending my life is perfectly fine. But how am I supposed to focus when all I can see is the message glowing on my phone?

“We need to talk tomorrow. After class. Don’t be late.”

Just that.

No emojis.

No “babe.”

No “love you.”

And for the first time in months, I felt the ground shift beneath me.

Talk. Ryan wants to talk.

Alam ko na agad ang ibig sabihin nun. I may not be the prettiest girl on campus, but I’m not slow. I can feel it, that cold distance, the gaps forming between us like broken puzzle edges that no longer fit. And I’ve been trying to ignore it for weeks.

But denial only works until the truth knocks on your door, or texts you at 11:37 PM.

I close my eyes and breathe, pero parang hindi pumapasok yung hangin. My chest feels crushed, like someone is pressing a pillow over my heart.

“You’re overthinking,” I whisper to myself. “Maybe he just wants to clarify something. Maybe he just wants a break from stress. Maybe—”

But the word dies in my throat.

Baka si Sophie.

Her name alone feels like a punch to the stomach.

I see her face everywhere now, sa hallways, sa cafeteria, sa student lounge. She’s the type of girl who makes people stop talking when she enters a room. Long wavy hair, perfect makeup kahit 7AM pa lang, small waist, legs for day, parang kinuha sa P*******t board titled “Dream Girl.”

Funny thing is, she’s only been here two months. But in those two months, I’ve seen the way Ryan looks at her.

Just small glances at first. The kind you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention.

But I pay attention. I always pay attention—maybe too much.

The memory hits me so clearly I can almost taste the cafeteria fries from that day. Sophie was laughing with her friends, wearing a pink dress that looked effortless on her. Ryan was sitting beside me, but when she laughed, ayun, automatic yung tingin niya. Just half a second, pero ramdam ko.

And I hated myself for noticing. I hated myself even more for caring.

“Don’t think about it,” I mumble, pressing my forehead to the cold glass of the window. But the universe isn’t listening, because the rain only gets heavier, louder, parang sinasabayan niya yung spiraling thoughts ko.

What did I do wrong? Was I too clingy? Was I too quiet? Did I get too comfortable? Or was it my body? My weight? My hoodie that’s always too big?

Every insecurity I’ve buried for years starts crawling out like shadows. I grab my stomach unconsciously—soft, round, familiar. I’ve always known I didn’t look like the girls Ryan used to date. I’m not “social media pretty.” I don’t wear dresses to class. I don’t have a tiny waist or flawless skin.

But Ryan chose me. He held my hand in public. He said he loved my art, my laugh, my everything.

So why do I feel like I’m slowly being replaced?

A tear falls before I can stop it. Damn. I thought I could hold it in. I wipe it quickly, frustrated.

“Diane, stop,” I scolded myself. “Wala pang nangyayari. You don’t know anything for sure.”

But the sinking feeling inside me whispers: I know enough.

The clock ticks loudly, reminding me that it’s way past midnight. I lie down slowly on my bed, pulling the blanket over me, pretending I can hide from reality. But the truth slips into the spaces between my thoughts anyway.

I remember the first time Ryan held my hand. It was after a group project meeting, at the library entrance. I was holding my laptop and sketchbook, clumsy as always, and he laughed and said, “You’re cute, you know that?” Then he intertwined our fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

My heart had practically melted that day.

But now… now I can’t remember the last time he held my hand without checking if people were watching.

My chest tightens. A sob fights its way up my throat, but I swallow it.

I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to be dramatic. But God knows, it hurts. Ang sakit-sakit.

Out of habit, I grab my sketchbook on the bedside table. Drawing is the one thing that calms me. I flip to a blank page and start sketching—lines, curves, shadows. My hands move on their own, muscle memory leading the way.

And just like that, an image forms.

A girl standing in the rain. Hair soaked. Eyes swollen. Shoulders heavy. Still trying to smile even when her world is crumbling.

I stare at the drawing, and it hits me like a punch.

It’s me. I drew myself hurting.

I close the sketchbook, unable to look at it any longer. My throat burns. Another tear escapes.

“Why am I like this?” I whisper. “Why can’t I be enough?”

The room feels smaller, like the walls are leaning in. I turn off the lamp, hoping the darkness can hide me better than the blanket did.

But I guess darkness is honest too, just like rain.

I curl on my side, hugging a pillow, trying to quiet the storm in my head. Outside, thunder roars, loud and merciless. I almost laugh.

Even the weather knows my heart is breaking.

Minutes pass. Or maybe hours. I lose track. But eventually, I hear footsteps in the hallway, distant voices, then silence again. The world continues without me, and that somehow makes the ache worse.

I hug myself tighter

.

Tomorrow is going to change everything. I can feel it in my bones. Ryan’s message echoes again and again in my head.

We need to talk.

I know those words. I know their weight. I know the ending they usually lead to.

The truth is this: I’m scared. I’m terrified. I’m not ready to lose him.

But deep down, beneath all the fear and denial, there’s a small voice—quiet but steady—telling me something I’ve tried to ignore.

Maybe you’ve already lost him.

My breath trembles. I wipe my tears again—pointless, since they keep falling anyway.

“Okay,” I whisper to myself, voice cracking. “Okay. If he lets go… I’ll survive. Somehow.”

I don’t know how, but I say it anyway.

Because what else can I do?

Outside, the rain softens, as if it’s finally tired. Inside, my heart feels like it’s only beginning to break.

Tomorrow, my life might fall apart. But tonight… tonight is the longest, quietest goodbye I’ve ever lived through.

And I’m not even sure he knows it yet.

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