Prologue
Rain used to make my mother cry.
I learned that before I learned multiplication tables. Before I learned how to braid my hair properly. Before I learned that men could say forever with the same mouth they used to leave.
The memory still comes back in pieces.
A dim apartment. Flickering kitchen light. The smell of cigarette smoke soaked into curtains that were once white. Rain tapping violently against thin glass windows.
And my mother kneeling.
Begging.
“Please,” she whispered, voice breaking so badly it barely sounded human anymore. “Please don’t leave us.”
I was eight years old, standing barefoot near the hallway, clutching the sleeve of my oversized pajamas while watching the man I was supposed to call father zip up a duffel bag without looking at her.
Not once.
Not even once.
My mother cried beautifully.
Some women looked ugly when they cried. Swollen faces. Twisted mouths. Loud sobbing.
Not her.
Tears slid silently down her cheeks while she held onto his wrist like love alone could anchor someone who had already decided to go.
“I’m tired, Elena,” he said flatly.
Tired.
As if abandoning people was exhausting.
“I can do better,” she whispered desperately. “I’ll change. Just… don’t go.”
That was the moment something inside me hardened.
Not when he left.
Not when the door slammed.
Not when my mother collapsed onto the floor afterward.
It was the begging.
The humiliation of loving someone more than they loved you.
I hated it.
Even at eight years old, I hated it so much my chest hurt.
I remember walking toward my mother slowly after the apartment fell silent.
She looked so small on the kitchen floor.
I asked her something that children probably shouldn’t ask.
“Why did you beg him?”
She stared at me with red eyes.
Because she loved him.
That was the answer.
Not spoken aloud. Just written all over her shattered face.
I never forgot it.
Love makes people weak.
Love makes people pathetic.
Love makes women stay when they should leave.
And from that moment on, I promised myself something I never broke:
I would rather spend my entire life alone than beg someone to stay.
Years later, I stood alone in my office on the thirty-second floor, staring at the city lights of Manila glittering beneath the midnight rain.
Funny how life keeps repeating certain images.
Rain against glass.
Loneliness.
Silence.
Except now I was the one standing instead of crying on the floor.
The office building was nearly empty at this hour. Most employees left three hours ago, but operations reports didn’t finish themselves, and unlike everyone else in this company, I actually cared whether things collapsed tomorrow morning.
I rolled my shoulders slowly, exhaustion settling into my bones like concrete.
The glow from my monitor illuminated stacks of documents spread across my desk. Financial reports. Performance evaluations. Budget revisions.
A normal Friday night.
Or what passed for normal in my life.
I reached for my coffee only to realize it had gone cold an hour ago.
Disgusting.
Still, I drank it anyway.
Outside the glass windows, headlights blurred through rain-soaked streets below. The city never really slept. It just pretended to rest between disasters.
A soft knock interrupted the silence.
I didn’t look up.
“Come in.”
The door opened cautiously.
“Miss Valdez?”
I recognized the nervous voice immediately.
Karen from accounting.
Twenty-three years old. Terrified of me.
I finally lifted my gaze from the laptop screen. “Why are you still here?”
She stepped inside holding folders against her chest like a shield. “I-I forgot to submit the revised invoices earlier.”
“You forgot,” I repeated flatly.
Her face paled.
People always reacted like that around me.
Like every word I said carried the possibility of execution.
“I’m sorry,” she rushed out quickly. “It won’t happen again.”
“It shouldn’t.”
I extended my hand without another word.
She hurried over and handed me the folders carefully, avoiding direct eye contact.
The poor girl looked seconds away from cardiac arrest.
I flipped through the papers quickly.
At least she did them correctly.
“That’ll be all.”
Karen blinked in surprise, probably expecting a longer lecture.
“T-Thank you, Miss Valdez.”
She practically escaped the office.
The moment the door closed, silence returned.
Heavy.
Familiar.
I leaned back against my chair and closed my eyes briefly.
People thought I enjoyed being feared.
I didn’t.
But respect built from kindness never lasted in places like this.
Especially not for women.
You either became sharp enough to survive or soft enough to be devoured.
And I had no intention of being devoured.
My phone buzzed beside my laptop.
Probably another work email.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Annoying.
With a quiet sigh, I reached for it without checking the screen first.
Then I froze.
Unknown Number.
For a second, I considered ignoring it completely.
Instead, I opened the message.
One sentence.
Just one.
I need to see you.
My stomach dropped so suddenly it felt physical.
No.
No.
There were only two people in this world capable of making my chest tighten from six words alone.
And Lucas would never text like that.
I stared at the screen harder.
Another message appeared seconds later.
Please, Serena.
The air in my office suddenly felt too thin.
I hadn’t seen that name in three years.
Adrian.
I read the message again.
And again.
Like somehow the letters would rearrange themselves into something harmless.
They didn’t.
A bitter laugh escaped my mouth quietly.
Of course.
Of course the universe would eventually do this to me.
Three years of silence.
Three years of pretending the past no longer existed.
And now this.
I stood abruptly from my desk and walked toward the windows, heels clicking sharply against marble floors.
The rain outside had become heavier.
I hated rain.
I wrapped my arms around myself unconsciously.
Why now?
Why after all this time?
I should have blocked the number immediately.
Deleted the message.
Gone back to work.
Instead, I found myself staring at the city while memories I buried clawed their way back to the surface.
Adrian Cortez smiling at me across a university library table.
Adrian kissing me in elevators because he “couldn’t wait.”
Adrian promising me things people should never promise unless they intend to keep them.
And worst of all-
Adrian walking away.
I shut my eyes tightly.
No.
I was not doing this tonight.
I had spent years rebuilding myself after him.
Years turning heartbreak into discipline.
Pain into ambition.
Loneliness into something useful.
I became successful because love failed me first.
People loved to romanticize heartbreak as something poetic.
It wasn’t.
Heartbreak was humiliation.
It was lying awake at three in the morning wondering why you weren’t enough for someone who once looked at you like you were everything.
I learned that lesson once.
I would never learn it again.
My phone buzzed a third time.
I looked down immediately despite myself.
Just hear me out.
I laughed coldly under my breath.
The audacity.
Three years ago, Adrian disappeared from my life so abruptly it felt like emotional whiplash.
One day we were planning futures.
The next, he was engaged to another woman.
Bianca Cortez.
Beautiful. Wealthy. Socialite perfection.
I still remembered seeing their engagement photos online while sitting alone in my apartment.
I didn’t cry.
That was the strange part.
I just stared at the screen feeling… empty.
Like someone had scooped my insides out neatly and left nothing behind.
Then I went to work the next morning like usual.
That was my talent.
Surviving quietly.
I looked at the message again.
Then typed quickly.
Don’t contact me again.
I hit send before I could reconsider it.
A strange ache spread through my chest afterward.
Not sadness.
Definitely not sadness.
More like reopening an old wound just enough to remember where the scar came from.
I tossed the phone onto my desk harder than necessary and forced myself back into work.
Numbers.
Focus on numbers.
Numbers behaved logically.
People didn’t.
I sat down and reopened the quarterly projections, but the words blurred together annoyingly.
My concentration was gone.
Fantastic.
I rubbed my temple slowly.
Maybe I should go home.
The thought alone exhausted me.
My condo was immaculate. Quiet. Expensive.
And empty.
Exactly how I liked it.
Mostly.
The truth was, solitude became addictive after enough years.
When you spend long enough alone, people start feeling invasive.
Relationships feel disruptive.
Love feels dangerous.
I checked the time.
12:47 AM.
Pathetic.
Most normal people spent Friday nights drinking with friends or sleeping beside someone they loved.
I spent mine arguing with spreadsheets and ghosts.
My phone lit up again.
I glared at it immediately.
Another message from Adrian.
Against my better judgment, I read it.
I never stopped regretting what I did to you.
My jaw tightened.
Too late.
Three years too late.
I should have deleted it.
Instead, I sat there staring at those words while something ugly twisted quietly inside me.
Regret was meaningless after destruction.
People always apologized after they finished ruining you.
That didn’t make them kind.
I typed a response before emotion could stop me.
Congratulations.
A few seconds passed.
Then:
Serena-
I blocked the number instantly.
Silence.
Finally.
I exhaled shakily without realizing I’d been holding my breath.
The office suddenly felt colder.
I stood again and grabbed my coat from the back of my chair.
Enough.
I was done for tonight.
I shut down my laptop, gathered my files neatly, and switched off the office lights before stepping into the hallway.
Most of the building was dark now.
Only emergency lights illuminated the polished corridors.
The sound of my heels echoed sharply as I walked toward the elevators.
Alone.
Always alone.
The thought should have comforted me.
Instead, tonight it felt strangely heavy.
When the elevator doors opened, I stepped inside and pressed the lobby button.
As the doors slid shut, my reflection stared back at me from mirrored walls.
Long black hair slightly messy from stress.
Dark eyes tired from years of pretending exhaustion didn’t exist.
Expression unreadable as always.
People called me intimidating.
Cold.
Untouchable.
Maybe they were right.
But no one ever asked what it cost to become this way.
The elevator descended slowly.
Floor thirty-one.
Thirty.
Twenty-nine.
I closed my eyes briefly.
I had spent years convincing myself I no longer cared about Adrian Cortez.
And maybe that part was true.
But indifference shouldn’t feel like this.
It shouldn’t leave your hands trembling slightly inside your coat pockets.
The elevator doors opened into the empty lobby.
Rain hammered violently outside the glass entrance.
Great.
I sighed softly.
The security guard near the front desk straightened immediately when he saw me.
“Good evening, Miss Valdez.”
“Morning,” I corrected dryly.
He laughed nervously.
People did that around me too.
I stepped outside beneath the covered entrance and stared at the rain flooding the streets.
I should wait for it to ease.
Instead, I walked directly into it.
Cold water soaked through my sleeves almost instantly.
The rain hit my skin sharply, but I barely reacted.
Maybe part of me wanted to feel something stronger than old memories tonight.
My heels splashed through shallow puddles as I walked toward the parking area.
Then my phone buzzed again.
Impossible.
I stopped walking immediately and pulled it from my bag.
Unknown Number.
I stared at it for a long moment before opening the message.
I’ll wait as long as I have to.\n> \n> - Adrian
My chest tightened painfully.
Rain blurred my vision slightly, though I couldn’t tell if it was really the rain anymore.
I hated this.
Hated how six letters still carried enough power to drag old versions of me back to life.
The girl who loved too deeply.
The girl who almost believed someone would stay.
The girl I buried years ago.
I looked up slowly at the dark city skyline above me.
Then I whispered something I hadn’t admitted in years.
“I should’ve hated you completely.”
But I didn’t.
And maybe that terrified me more than love itself.
