Prologue: What We Tell Ourselves
The sun rose gently over Orani, Bataan, painting the sky in soft hues of amber and rose. Fenella stirred before the first light spilled through the window. She dressed in her neat uniform, tucked her simple lunch bag under her arm, and paused to brush a strand of hair from her youngest sibling's sleeping forehead. She never once told herself a story about who she was. She didn't need to. She already knew.
Miles away, the same sun climbed over the glittering skyline of the city. Greg Tan sat behind a sleek desk of dark polished wood, reviewing documents with sharp, focused eyes. He told himself he didn't need anyone — that this, the numbers, the silence, the control, was enough. He almost believed it.
Elsewhere along the coast, James Roswell moved at a steady, easy pace, jogging beside Manila Bay. He told himself he had time. That whatever he was waiting for would arrive eventually, on its own, without him having to choose anything or lose anyone in the meantime.
High above the streets, Xavier Rios stood on the wide glass balcony of his penthouse, the cool morning breeze stirring his hair. His face was on billboards across the country, known by thousands who had never once seen him. He told himself the woman waiting for him inside was enough to fill the silence when the lights went out. Most mornings, he almost believed that too.
Not far from him, Elara moved through her kitchen, humming as she packed a small paper bag of peppermints, telling herself that love was measured in patience, and patience was a thing she had plenty of to give.
Across the city, in a precinct that never really slept, Laurence finished the last of his coffee standing up, badge already clipped to his belt. He told himself he didn't need anything the job couldn't give him — that the ones who did were the ones who got hurt.
They had never truly met. They had no reason to expect their paths would cross. But the stories people tell themselves have a way of running out — quietly, at first, and then all at once. Soon, one quiet morning, six lives that had learned to lie to themselves in different ways would collide, and none of them would get to keep believing what they'd believed before.
