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Chapter Text

The salt-kissed air of Caramoan was the first thing Morgan Lauzon truly tasted each morning. It was a constant: a perfume of sea, sky, and sun baked rock that clung to her skin and clothes. The scent was so intrinsic to her being that she thought it might be woven into her very DNA. And woven just as tightly into her soul was Avianna Alvarez.

To Morgan, Caramoan wasn't just a place on a map in Camarines Sur; it was a living, breathing entity composed of two things: the breathtaking landscape of jagged limestone karsts and emerald water, and the girl whose laughter was more melodic than the wind chimes hanging from her Lolo Ino’s porch.

This morning, the familiar putter of Avianna’s lolo’s bangka echoed across the cove. Morgan finished tying the frayed rope, securing their smaller boat to the rickety wooden dock, her hands moving with a practiced ease born of a lifetime by the sea. She didn’t need to look up to know it was Avianna at the helm, her silhouette a confident cut-out against the rising sun, which painted the sky in washes of mango and lavender.

“Ready to get lost?” Avianna called out.

“Huh? Tayo ang guide, Avi. We’re not supposed to get lost,” Morgan replied, a smile already tugging at her lips as she finally looked up.

And, as it always did, the sight of Avianna struck her with a quiet, profound force. The sun caught the flyaway hairs that had escaped her messy bun, forming a frizzy, brilliant halo. She wore a faded, oversized t-shirt and shorts, her skin already glowing with a healthy tan that made her eyes look like pools of dark, liquid honey. She was all vibrant, untamed energy, a force of nature as potent as any typhoon that occasionally battered their shores.

“Details, details,” Avianna waved a dismissive hand, jumping nimbly from the boat onto the dock, making the whole structure shudder. “Lola packed us lunch.”

“Wow! Ano'ng niluto ni lola ngayon para sa atin?”

“Kare-kare. At bago mo pa ako tanungin, yes, may extrang bagoong.”

“YES!!! The best talaga si lola. Sabi na't ako talaga ang paborito niyang apo eh.”

Avianna rolled her eyes, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

Morgan’s heart performed a familiar, tender squeeze. It was these small things, these tiny, thoughtful intimacies, that built the architecture of her secret world. Avianna remembered her love for bagoong when everyone else found it odd.

She noticed.

“Oh, ano pa’ng hinihintay natin?” Morgan said, untying the boat. “’Yung mga turista galing Maynila ay darating ng alas otso, at gusto ko sana muna sanang i-check ‘yung tubig sa Hunongan. The currents were tricky last week.”

This was their life. While their classmates dreamed of escaping to Manila or abroad, Morgan and Avianna had built a small, sustainable tour business right out of high school. The plan had been born during one perfect, idle afternoon a week before graduation, as they sat on the sun-warmed rocks of Hunongan Cove.

Flashback

“Bakit pa tayo aalis?” Avianna had asked, her voice soft with wonder as she gestured to the emerald water and dramatic karst cliffs. “Look at this place, Morgan. It's a masterpiece! And we get to live here.”

Morgan followed her gaze and felt her heart swell with a fierce possessive love for the cove. “Where would we even go?”

“Exactly!” Avianna shifted to face her. “Everyone talks about Manila like it's the promised land. But the traffic… the noise… I'd miss the salt water too much. I'd miss the sound of the waves outside my window.”

“I'd miss the air,” Morgan murmured. “The way it tastes like salt and rain.”

“’Di ba?! And besides,” Avianna said, her tone turning practical, “the whole world comes here. They save up all year to see what we get to see every single day. So let's not go to them. Let's just… stay. And show it to them properly.”

Morgan looked at her best friend, at the certainty blazing in her eyes, and felt the final piece of her own future click into place. “Paano?”

“We'll be guides,” Avianna said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You know the sea better than anyone. You can read the tides like a book. And I…” she grinned, a little sheepishly, “I can talk to a lamppost and make it feel welcome. I know all the stories Lolo told us.”

“You want us to run tours?” Morgan asked, the idea taking root, feeling less like a dream and more like a destiny.

“Not just any tours,” Avianna insisted, leaning forward. “The best tours. We'll take them to secret spots no one else knows. You'll keep them safe on the water, and I'll… I'll make them fall in love with this place. The way we are.”

Morgan didn't need to think. She looked from Avianna's hopeful, excited face to the paradise that was their home, and knew there was no other path. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Avianna's face broke into a brilliant, miles-wide smile. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Morgan confirmed, her own smile finally breaking through. “It's the only thing that makes sense.”

You, Avianna, are the only thing that makes sense, Morgan thought.

End of flashback

And so, they had built it. They were the best guides in the area. Morgan knew the waters, the tides, the hidden caves with the precision of a cartographer. Avianna knew the stories, the legends of the islands, and possessed a charm that made every visitor feel like an old friend. Together, they were a perfect, seamless team.

As they guided their first group of the day through the stunning seascape, Morgan watched Avianna work. She stood at the front of the boat, one hand resting on the outrigger, pointing out the dramatic silhouette of Lahos Island.

“They say the tunnels through that island were carved by a giant sea serpent,” Avianna narrated, her voice rising and falling with theatrical flair. “In love with a mortal fisherman, he carved a path for her to visit him in secret. But the gods found out and turned them both to stone. That’s why the cliffs look so sorrowful.”

The tourists oohed and aahed, snapping pictures. Morgan, her hands steady on the tiller, only had eyes for the storyteller. She knew the real story was geological, a tale of tectonic shifts and millennia of erosion. But she preferred Avianna’s version. In her version, the love was so powerful it could reshape the very earth. It was a feeling Morgan understood in the deepest, most silent part of herself.

Their last stop was Hunongan Cove. It was a secluded crescent of white sand embraced by lush, green cliffs, the water an impossible, shifting palette of turquoise and jade. While the tourists splashed and swam, Morgan and Avianna waded into the shallows, the cool water a relief against the midday heat.

“I think the sea is extra clear today,” Avianna murmured, staring down at her feet, visible and distorted through the water. “Ang ganda. Sobrang linaw ng tubig. It's like liquid glass.”

Morgan didn’t look at the water. She looked at the way the sunlight dappled Avianna’s shoulders, at the single droplet of water tracing a path down her neck. She memorized the curve of her eyelashes against her cheek, the relaxed, contented slope of her mouth.

This was her cartography.

Not of islands and inlets, but of the freckle beside Avianna’s left eyebrow, the small scar on her knee from a fall when they were twelve, and the specific way she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Oo, ang ganda nga,” Morgan agreed, her voice soft.

Avianna looked up, catching Morgan’s gaze. She smiled, a slow, sun-warmed thing that reached her eyes and made the corners crinkle. “What?”

I’m in love with you, Avi. I have been since we were sixteen, since that day we got caught in the rain on Matukad Island and you shared your last piece of pan de coco with me.  I love the way you laugh with your whole body. I love your stubbornness and your kindness. I love you so much it sometimes feels like I’m holding the entire ocean inside my chest, and it’s a struggle to keep it from spilling out.

The words crashed over her like the tide against the cliffs of Hunongan Cove, unstoppable and fierce.

“Wala,” Morgan said, offering a small smile of her own. “I’m just… happy.”

And it was the truest lie she’d ever told.

Avianna’s smile widened, and she splashed a little water at Morgan. “Me too.”

The afternoon bled into evening, and the town was transforming. It was the fiesta of their barangay’s patron saint, and the plaza was a riot of color, sound, and smell. Makeshift stalls offered everything from kwek-kwek and isaw to halo-halo. Children weaved through the legs of adults, their shrieks of laughter mingling with the tinny sound of a karaoke machine being tested.

But the real magic was at the center of the plaza. Strings of parol and multicolored fairy lights were draped between the branches of ancient acacia trees, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. A local band, composed of uncles and older cousins, was setting up on a small bamboo stage, tuning their guitars and testing the microphones with earnest coughs.

Morgan found a spot at a nearby table, a bottle of Coke sweating in her hand. She watched as Avianna was pulled into a group of their friends, her laughter ringing out, clear and bright, over the din. She moved with an innate grace, her body already swaying to the faint rhythm of the music that hadn't even properly started.

This was another part of their world. The easy, communal joy of it. The sense of belonging. Morgan felt it, she loved it, but she always felt slightly apart from it, like an observer.

Her center of gravity was, and always had been, Avianna.

The band started playing—a gentle, acoustic love song that was a local favorite. The crowd cheered. Avianna caught Morgan’s eye from across the plaza and grinned, mouthing the lyrics. Then, she was pulling Morgan up from the chair, her hand warm and firm around Morgan’s wrist.

“Hindi puwedeng nakaupo ka lang buong gabi, Morgan!” Avianna chided, tugging her towards the open space that served as a dance floor.

“Avi, alam mo namang hindi ako marunong sumayaw,” Morgan protested, her heart beginning to thrum a frantic rhythm that had nothing to do with the music.

“It’s not about dancing,” Avianna said, her eyes sparkling in the fairy light glow. “It’s about being part of the music.”

Morgan hesitated, her hand still in Avianna’s. “Kahit maapakan ko 'yung paa mo?”

Avianna laughed, soft and light. “Eh 'di aapakan ko rin 'yung sayo. Fair is fair.”

And then they were there, amidst the swirling, smiling couples and groups of friends. Avianna didn’t let go of her hand. Instead, she placed Morgan’s hand on her own shoulder and rested hers on Morgan’s waist. The contact was casual, commonplace between friends in this context, but to Morgan, it was electric.

It was a point of searing heat that spread through her entire body.

Morgan swallowed. “You… you really don’t mind?”

“Mind?” Avianna grinned. “Morgan, we’ve been trying to dance together since we were twelve. You think I care now?”

Morgan’s cheeks flushed, and she found herself smiling despite the storm inside her chest. “Feels… different.”

“Siyempre,” Avianna said, her voice softening. “We’ve grown up. We’ve changed. But some things stay the same.” She tilted her head closer. “Like you getting flustered every time I say something that makes you think.”

Morgan bit her lip, looking down at Avianna’s hands at her waist, her pulse racing.

Avianna’s smile deepened, mischievous yet tender. “Tulad ngayon.”

The band continued, now playing “Kahit Maputi Na Ang Buhok Ko” by Rey Valera, the lyrics drifting across the plaza like a warm breeze. Avianna sang softly along, her voice carrying the hidden longing in the words.

They swayed, a simple, clumsy back-and-forth. Morgan was hyper-aware of everything: the rough texture of Avianna’s cotton blouse under her fingertips, the scent of her perfume mixing with the night air, the way the lights caught the gold flecks in her eyes.

Avianna was singing along softly, her gaze drifting over Morgan’s shoulder, a contented, faraway look on her face. Morgan, however, was trapped in the hyper-focused present. The world narrowed to this circle of light, to this song, to this girl.

She looked at Avianna’s face, so close to hers. She saw the curve of her cheek, the soft bow of her upper lip, the trusting ease in her expression.

This... was her best friend.

The keeper of her secrets.

The witness to her life.

The source of all her joy.

And in that moment, a thought, clear and desperate as a church bell, cut through the music and the chatter in her mind.

Should’ve kissed you anyway.

It was so vivid, so powerful, that she almost swayed on her feet. It wasn't prompted by anything Avianna did. It wasn't an invitation. It was a pure, unadulterated want that rose from the depths of that ocean she held inside her chest. It was the realization that this moment, with the music, lights, and Avianna in her arms, was perfect.

And the only thing that could make it more perfect would be to close that infinitesimal distance, to bridge the gap between friendship and everything else.

The thought was terrifying. It was a seismic shift in the bedrock of her world.

What if she leaned in and Avianna pulled away?

What if the laughter in her eyes turned to shock, or worse, pity?

What if this perfect, golden thing they had built over a lifetime shattered into a million irreparable pieces?

Staying friends is safe, the practical, fearful part of her brain whispered. Safe is good.

Safe is Avianna in your life.

The song began to fade, the final chords hanging in the air before melting into applause. Avianna’s gaze drifted back to Morgan, her smile still in place, warm and unguarded.

“See? Not so bad,” she said, giving Morgan’s waist a gentle squeeze before dropping her hand.

The spell was broken. The moment passed. The heat on Morgan’s shoulder and waist cooled, replaced by a phantom ache.

“Yeah,” Morgan managed, her voice a little hoarse. “Not so bad.”

As Avianna was swept away by another friend for the next, faster song, Morgan stood rooted to the spot, the echo of the thought a permanent brand on her heart. 

Should’ve kissed you anyway.

She looked around at the vibrant, laughing faces, at the place she called home, and in that moment, she felt a profound sense of loneliness. She was on an island in the middle of a crowded plaza, separated from the one person who made her feel whole by a secret as vast and deep as the sea that surrounded them.

She walked back to her table, the bottle of Coke now warm and forgotten. The fiesta continued around her, a celebration of community and connection, but Morgan was already building a wall around her heart, brick by careful brick, vowing to keep the ocean within from ever breaking the shore.

It was safer that way.

It had to be.

Chapter Text

The salt of Caramoan was a ghost on Morgan’s skin—a memory stubbornly clinging to her in the cool, mist-laden air of Legazpi. Here, the world was dominated by a different kind of majesty: the perfect, terrifying cone of Mayon Volcano, a silent, brooding giant that watched over the city. Her world had shrunk from the endless horizon of the sea to the four walls of a university dorm room and the sprawling, concrete campus of Bicol University. Marine Biology was a dream she was chasing, but it felt abstract—a series of lectures, lab reports, and textbooks that paled in comparison to the living, breathing classroom of the Caramoan waters.

Her small single room was a shrine to the home she ached for. A large, detailed map of the Caramoan Peninsula was the centerpiece on her wall, its coastlines and islands traced with a familiarity that felt like a physical pang. A framed photo sat on her desk—the most precious thing she owned—of her and Avianna, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, squinting against the sun on the bow of their boat, the impossible turquoise of Hunongan Cove stretching out behind them. It was the first thing she saw in the morning and the last thing her eyes found in the dark.

The separation, when it first happened, had been a visceral amputation. The first night in her dorm, the silence had been deafening, missing the constant, gentle soundtrack of waves and Avianna’s voice from the next room over. She’d called her, her own voice thick with a loneliness that felt childish and overwhelming.

“Ang tahimik dito,” Morgan had whispered into the phone, curled on her narrow bed.

“Dito rin,” Avianna’s voice had come back, a little echoey, a little distant, but there. “Ginising ako ng manok ni lolo kaninang 4 AM and I almost cried because you weren’t here to complain about it with me.”

They had fought against the distance with the same fierce loyalty that had defined their friendship since childhood. For two years after high school, their guiding business had thrived, a perfect, sun-drenched dream. But as their friends left for college, a quiet reality had settled over them.

“Kailangan natin ng backup plan, Morgan.” Avianna had said one evening as they counted their earnings from a good week. “Something stable.”

The plan had always been simple and sacred: they would enroll together at Partido State University. Avianna would study Tourism Management, Morgan would take Business Administration. They would find a small apartment within walking distance of the university, come home on weekends, and build a future with the sea as their foundation. It was a promise they had made to each other, a new adventure they were meant to embark on together.

But then, the acceptance letter from Bicol University arrived, offering Morgan a slot in their renowned Marine Biology program. It was a secret dream she had confessed only once, on a starlit night, thinking it was impossible. Holding the thick envelope, her stomach was in knots.

She showed it to Avianna in silence. Avianna’s face, initially bright with curiosity, fell as she read it. A heavy quiet stretched between them.

“Legazpi,” Avianna finally said, her voice flat. The word hung in the air, a betrayal of their plan.

“Oo...” Morgan whispered.

“Pero Morgan… ang usapan natin, ParSU,” Avianna said, her eyes wide and confused. “Maghahanap na sana tayo ng apartment next week, right? Paano na… tayo?" The unspoken question was louder than any she could have voiced.

“I know. Pero, Avi… Marine Biology kasi 'to. Pangarap ko 'to.”

But the truth was heavier. In the quiet of her room that night, she realized just how much deeper her feelings for Avianna had grown. Every laugh, every careless brush of her hand, every shared secret—it all pulsed through her more intensely than ever, a force that both thrilled and terrified her. And if she stayed, if she confessed, she might ruin everything—the years of laughter, trust, and love that had been theirs.

Better, she thought, to go separate ways. To protect the friendship, even if it meant burying her own heart. It was safer this way, cleaner. Safer than confessing and destroying what they had built together.

Avianna looked away, her jaw tight. “Akala ko kasi ito ‘yung pangarap natin.”

The ache in her voice landed squarely in Morgan’s chest.

They didn’t speak for two days—the longest, most painful silence of Morgan's life. She was paralyzed with guilt, the acceptance letter feeling like a weapon she had used against her best friend. Her reason for leaving now felt like a cruel, selfish lie.

On the third evening, Avianna appeared at her door, holding a small paper bag. Her eyes were red-rimmed but clear.

"Avi..."

“Busy ka ba?”

"Hindi naman."

“Come with me.”

Avianna led Morgan to their spot on the dock. The sky was a deep, bruised purple. From the bag, she took out two bottles of Coke and a pack of Morgan's favorite Cal Cheese wafers—their classic peace offering since they were kids, when a fight over a stolen crayon had ended with a shared pack and a promise to never stay mad for long.

"I'm sorry..." Avianna began, not looking at her. 

Morgan’s heart clenched. "Why are you apologizing?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, afraid to break the fragile stillness that had fallen between them.

Avianna finally turned, and in the dim twilight, Morgan could see the glistening tracks of tears on her cheeks. “I was angry with you,” she confessed, the admission seeming to cost her dearly. “Because I was hurt. Because I was so scared.” Her voice broke as she laid her heart bare. “Scared that you’d be far away. That… everything would change.” She took a shaky breath, the sound ragged in the quiet. “Naging makasarili ako, Morgan. I wanted to keep you here with me.”

“Avi, hindi—”

“It's true,” she insisted, her voice gaining a sliver of steel forged in self-reproach. “Naging makasarili ako... kahit alam kong hindi tama.” She looked down at her hands, twisting the edge of the wafer pack. “As your best friend, I should support your dream. I should want what makes you happy.”

Best friend... right... The words echoed hollowly in Morgan's chest.

Avianna pushed the wafers toward Morgan. "You should take the slot, Morgan," she stated, her voice now firm, laced with a heartbreaking determination. "You need to take it. For yourself."

Morgan felt her own tears fall. “I'm so sorry, Avi.”

“I know,” Avianna whispered, offering a small, broken smile. “I am too. So… it’s okay. We’ll still see each other naman 'di ba? And hey,” she added, nudging one of the Coke bottles closer, “at least the sunsets here will always be better than the ones in Legazpi.”

She had agreed, but the joy of the acceptance was now bittersweet. Morgan had gotten what she thought she wanted—distance. But as she looked at Avianna, trying to be brave for her, the painful truth was undeniable: she wasn't just leaving to follow a dream. She was running from the one person who made everywhere feel like home.

Their shared messaging app became a digital lifeline, a constant, flowing stream of consciousness that bridged the 174 kilometers between Legazpi and Caramoan—a distance that felt infinitely wider than any map could show.

A pang of sharp, sweet longing shot through Morgan one morning as she read Avianna's message. Avi was filling in on a tour for a family friend. The normalcy of it, the sheer Avi-ness of the story, made Morgan's cramped dorm room feel a million miles away.

Avi (9:14 AM): The group asked if the karst cliffs were man-made. MAN-MADE, Morgan. Muntik na akong mahulog sa bangka katatawa.

Morgan (9:16 AM): Did you tell them the giant sea serpent did it?

Avi (9:17 AM): Siyempre. At naniwala sila. Tips were excellent. I miss your steady hands on the tiller though. Almost took out a mangrove.

Morgan (11:02 PM): Just spent 4 hours staring at a diagram of a sea cucumber’s digestive system. Sa tingin ko mabubulag na ako, Avi. This is not what I signed up for.

Avi (11:03 PM): Sounds kinky. Naalala mo pa ba ‘yung sea cucumbers na nakita natin sa lagoon? The big, warty ones that squirted water?

Morgan (11:04 AM): Paano ko naman makakalimutan? Nilagay mo ‘yung isa sa shirt ko. I screamed so loud you said you feared for the structural integrity of the boat!

Avi (11:05 AM): HAHAHA! Worth it. The look on your face was priceless. Sana lang talaga ay may dala akong camera no’n.

The messages were a comfort, a tether to the person who knew her best. But as the months wore on, they became a source of a new, subtle agony. Avianna’s world in Caramoan, studying Tourism Management at Partido State University, seemed to explode with color and new people. Her messages were increasingly filled with names and places Morgan didn’t recognize.

Avi (10:31 PM): Went out with Marco and his friends from class to a new cafe near the cathedral. Their sans rival is to die for. Sure akong magugustuhan mo. Marco says he knows a great spot for island hopping in Calaguas, we should all go sometime!

Marco. The name appeared with the frequency of a recurring character in a story Morgan was no longer co-authoring.

A classmate.

A friend.

Morgan would stare at the name, a cold, leaden knot tightening in her stomach. She’d dissect Avianna’s words, turning them over and over like sea glass, looking for a hidden meaning, a hint of something more. But there was never anything conclusive. Just the easy, casual mention of a life that was expanding without her.

Their weekly video calls, once a ritual she lived for, had become less frequent, the connection often fraught with interruptions.

“Sorry, Morgan! Nagloloko ‘yung WiFi sa dorm,” Avianna would say, her face freezing mid-sentence on the pixelated screen.

“Okay lang,” Morgan would reply, the silence stretching between them, filled with the things she couldn’t say.

One evening, they managed a clear connection. Avianna was sitting on her bed, a colorful woven blanket behind her that Morgan didn’t recognize.

“How’s... Marco?” Morgan asked, trying to sound casual, as if she were asking about the weather. She focused on picking at a loose thread on her own, plain blue bedspread.

Avianna’s face, even through the screen, lit up. “Sobrang bait niya! He’s actually been a huge help. We’re working on this big project proposal together. We’re thinking of creating a curated eco-tour that focuses on the indigenous stories of the islands, not just the generic sea serpent one. You know, tie it back to the real history, the real people. Isn’t that a great idea?”

“Yeah,” Morgan said, the word feeling like ash in her mouth. “That’s… that’s really brilliant, Avi.”

And it was.

It was a perfect, beautiful idea, one that showcased Avianna’s passion and intelligence. But the “we” in that sentence, the shared project, the shared vision—it felt like a shard of glass twisting in her heart. She was supposed to be the “we.” They were supposed to be building that future together.

“Nakakatuwa lang kasi gets niya ‘ko, Morgan.” Avianna continued, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “He understands that tourism shouldn’t just be about taking pretty pictures. It should mean something.”

“Alam ko,” Morgan said softly. “I’ve always thought that.”

The call ended soon after, with Avianna promising to send her the draft of the proposal. Morgan sat in the silence of her room, the hollow feeling in her chest expanding until it felt like it might consume her. The mantra that had kept her safe for years, Staying friends is safe, now felt like a life sentence to the sidelines. Safe was watching from a distance through a tiny screen as the most important person in her life moved forward, collecting new friends and new dreams, while Morgan remained frozen, a sentinel to a memory, her own life on pause.

The days bled into a monotonous grey. Midterm exams loomed like storm clouds, and Morgan buried herself in her books, seeking solace in the predictable, logical cycles of marine ecosystems. It was easier to think about tidal patterns and phytoplankton blooms than it was to contemplate the shifting, unpredictable tides of her own heart. She found herself spending hours in the university library, not just studying, but hiding. The vibrant social life of the campus passed her by; she went to no parties, joined no clubs. Her world was her studies and her phone, a fragile link to a life that felt increasingly like it was slipping through her fingers.

It was during one such late-night study session, her head pounding from the relentless glare of her laptop screen, surrounded by open textbooks and highlighted notes on coral reef degradation, that her phone buzzed. Not the gentle chime of a message, but the shrill, insistent, alarming ring of a video call. The screen glowed with a name she didn’t expect: Abigail.

A prickle of unease, cold and sharp, ran down her spine. Abigail was their close friend from Caramoan who attended the same university as Avianna. A video call this late was unusual. Any call was unusual; they usually just messaged.

Swallowing a sudden dryness in her throat, Morgan accepted the call. “Abigail?” Her voice was rough with fatigue and a burgeoning dread.

Abigail’s face filled the screen. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her usually cheerful expression was blotchy and strained. She sat in her room at home, the familiar woven wall hanging visible behind her.

“Morgan,” she said, and her voice was a broken thing, tight with tears she was trying to hold back. “Morgan, there’s… there’s been an accident.”

The world didn't just slow down; it stopped. The hum of her laptop fan, the distant, muffled sound of laughter from another dorm room, the faint rustle of the wind outside her window—everything faded into a high-pitched, deafening whine in her ears. Her grip on the phone turned viselike, her knuckles bleaching white.

“S-sino? Sino ang naaksidente?” she managed to choke out, though a part of her, the deepest, most terrified part of her soul, already knew. It was as if the universe had been holding its breath since she left Caramoan, waiting for this moment.

“Si Avi.”

The words felt like stones sinking into her chest. A cold, paralyzing fear, more absolute and suffocating than any she had ever known, washed over her. It was a riptide, pulling her under, stealing the air from her lungs. 

“A-anong nangyari?” The question was a bare whisper.

“She was on her motorbike,” Abigail’s words came in a rushed, tearful jumble. She was struggling to keep it together. “She was coming back from that fieldwork assignment in Tabiguian. ‘Yung jeep kasi… nag-swerve sa lane niya. She tried to avoid it, but she hit the side. She was thrown, Morgan.”

A sharp, horrifying image flashed behind Morgan’s eyes: Avianna’s vibrant, laughing form, limp and broken on hot asphalt.

The world tilted.

“Nasaan s’ya?” Morgan’s voice was strangely calm, a stark, robotic contrast to the tempest of pure panic raging inside her.

“Nandito kami ngayon sa ospital. A broken arm, some bad bruises, maybe a concussion. They’re running tests. But… Morgan, huwag ka nang masyadong mag-alala kasi she’s okay. She’s going to be okay. She was conscious when they brought her in.”

Stable. Broken arm. Okay. 

The words were anchors, thrown to a drowning woman, trying to pull her back from the abyss. But they weren’t enough. The terror was too vast. All she could see was Avianna, her Avianna, hurt and scared in a sterile, white room, and she wasn’t there.

“Papunta na ‘ko,” Morgan heard herself say, the decision made in the space between one heartbeat and the next. She was already moving, her body operating on a primal instinct that overrode all conscious thought. She grabbed the duffel bag from under her bed and began throwing clothes into it, not seeing what she was grabbing.

“What? Morgan, no. Hating gabi na. You have your midterms! You can’t just—”

“Wala akong pakialam,” Morgan interrupted, her voice sharp. The fear had burned away everything else—the caution, the practicality, the carefully laid plans for her future. “I don’t care about any of it, Abigail. I-text mo sa akin kung nasaang ospital kayo.”

“Morgan, please, pag-isipan mo munang mabuti. ‘Yung scholarship…”

“There is nothing to think about!” Morgan’s voice broke, the calm shattering into raw, undisguised desperation. “Hindi mo ba naiintindihan? It’s Avi!”

The silence on the other end was heavy with understanding. Then, a soft sigh. “Okay. Okay. Ite-text ko sa’yo ang details. Mag-iingat ka, Morgan.”

She ended the call, her hands trembling so violently she could barely zip the bag. The ocean of love she had kept so carefully contained for more than five years had finally, catastrophically, broken its walls. The fear of losing Avianna was a thousand times more powerful, more clarifying, than the fear of confessing her love. In this stark, terrifying moment, the "what ifs" that had once been about awkwardness and ruined friendships were now about finality, about a silence that could never be broken.

What if I never get to tell her? What if the last time I saw her, waving goodbye from the dock, was the last time? What if I spend the rest of my life asking myself ‘what if I had just been brave?’

The thought was a more profound, more chilling regret than any failed exam could ever be.

It was the regret of a lifetime.

She booked a seat on the earliest bus to Caramoan, not even looking at the price. The transaction was a blur. She sent terse, identical emails to her professors: Family emergency. Will be absent for exams. Will accept any consequences. The words felt alien, typed by someone else. The carefully constructed future she was building in Legazpi—the degree, the career, the life of quiet study—it all crumbled to dust in the face of this one, undeniable truth: her future was, and always had been, Avianna. Nothing else held any weight.

As the bus rumbled through the pre-dawn darkness, leaving the shadow of the perfect volcano behind, Morgan stared out the window at the passing, indistinct shapes of the world. The mantra that had defined her life for years echoed in her mind again, but the words had twisted, warped by the terror of the last few hours.

They were no longer a caution.

They were a condemnation of her own cowardice.

Staying friends is safe, the old, familiar voice whispered—a last, weak protest from a dying part of her.

A raw and determined voice, born from the cold sweat of terror, drowned it out. 

Safe is a prison. And I will not live the rest of my life behind its bars, wondering what could have been.

The distance she was traveling wasn’t just measured in kilometers. It was the distance between a life of quiet desperation and the terrifying, necessary risk of finally speaking her truth. The bus, for all its speed, felt agonizingly slow. Every second that ticked by was a second she wasn’t by Avianna’s side, a second she wasn’t telling her the one thing that had defined her existence for half a decade. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window, her breath fogging a small circle, and prayed to any god that would listen for another chance.

Chapter Text

The first bus ride, from Legazpi to Naga, was a special kind of torture. Every lurch, every stop, every moment the engine idled felt like a personal affront. Morgan’s knee bounced incessantly, a nervous tremor that had taken root in her very bones. She clutched her phone like a lifeline, her thumb hovering over the screen, willing an update from Abigail that didn’t come. The landscape shifted from the urban sprawl of Legazpi to the sleepy, rice-paddy-dotted towns of Camarines Sur, but she saw none of it. Her mind was a relentless, horrifying movie reel: Avianna laughing, Avianna swimming, Avianna lying broken and still on a roadside near their home, her smile extinguished.

She had replayed their last conversation before she left for Legazpi a hundred times. They’d been on the dock, the sky a soft watercolor of pastels.

“You’ll call, right?” Avianna had asked, trying for nonchalance but failing. “Even if it’s just to complain about the city water.”

“Every day,” Morgan had promised, her own throat tight. “Pero dapat lagi kang mag-send ng pictures, ha? Pictures ng tourists, sunsets … lahat. Pati blurred na selfie mo. Update mo ako palagi.”

“I will.” Avianna had pulled her into a fierce, crushing hug. “Don’t become a stranger, okay? Don’t you dare find new friends who are better at skipping stones than me.”

“Imposibleng mangyari ‘yan,” Morgan had whispered into her hair, breathing in the scent of coconut and sea salt, memorizing it. The words she truly wanted to say had lodged in her throat, a painful, permanent knot. 

I love you, Avi. I’ll always love you. This just a pause, not a goodbye.

Now, that pause felt like an eternity. What if that hug was the last one? The thought was a physical sickness. 

The transfer in Naga was a blur of frantic energy. She barely registered the crowded terminal, buying a new ticket, and then the crushing realization that she had to wait for the next scheduled trip to Caramoan. The minutes she spent pacing the dusty terminal, watching the clock tick with excruciating slowness, were a new layer of hell.

When her bus finally arrived and she boarded, the relief was short-lived. This leg of the journey was, if possible, even more agonizing. The bus seemed to stop in every barangay, dropping off passengers with a leisurely pace that made Morgan want to scream. Each delay was a fresh torment.

She leaned her head against the grimy window, closing her eyes, but the terrifying images of Avianna hurt and alone only grew more vivid.

When the second bus finally, mercifully, pulled into the terminal, Morgan was the first one out, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, pushing past the slow-moving crowd. She hailed a tricycle, her voice sharp with urgency as she gave the name of the hospital.

The hospital was a sprawling, chaotic complex of white and pale green. The air inside was a sterile cocktail of antiseptic and underlying human anxiety. Morgan’s heart hammered against her ribs as she rushed to the information desk, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush.

“Avianna Alvarez po. Dinala siya rito kagabi. Motorbike accident.”

The nurse, weathered and slow, consulted a ledger. The seconds stretched. Morgan’s palms were slick with sweat.

“Room 214 po,” the nurse finally said, pointing a finger towards a staircase.

Morgan took the steps two at a time, her breath catching in her chest. She skidded to a halt outside Room 214, her hand trembling as she reached for the door handle. She pushed it open slowly.

The room was small, with two beds. The one by the window was empty. In the other, propped up by pillows, was her Avianna.

The sight was a punch to the gut, a mixture of searing relief and heart-wrenching pain. Avianna’s left arm was in a pristine white cast, resting on a pillow on her lap. A spectacular, dark purple bruise bloomed across her right cheekbone, and a smaller cut was taped shut on her forehead. She looked small and pale against the stark white sheets, her vibrant energy dimmed.

But her eyes... they were open. And they were looking right at Morgan.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. The hum of the hospital, the distant pages, it all faded away.

Then, Avianna’s mouth curved into a weak, but genuine, smile. “You’re here.”

Those two simple words, so full of a quiet, unquestioning faith that Morgan would come, shattered the last of Morgan’s composure. Tears she didn’t know she was holding back spilled hot and fast down her cheeks. She crossed the room in three strides, her duffel bag dropping to the floor with a thud.

Without a second thought, she leaned over the hospital bed, carefully avoiding the cast, and wrapped her arms around Avianna in a tight, desperate embrace. She buried her face in the crook of Avianna's neck, inhaling the familiar scent that was now mixed with the sterile smell of the hospital. She held on as if she were the one who needed anchoring, as if her own world had been the one spinning out of control.

After a moment of stunned stillness, Avianna’s good arm came up, her hand pressing weakly against Morgan’s back.

“You’re okay,” Morgan breathed against her skin, her voice cracking. It was half a statement, half a prayer.

“Mostly,” Avianna said, her voice raspy. She gestured with her good hand towards her cast. “Broken radius. Sabi ni Doc it was a clean break. Should heal fine. The bruises are just… decorative.”

Morgan let out a choked sound—a sob that emerged as a broken puff of air, something between a gasp and a cry. She reached out, her hand moving with a slow, almost reverent caution before she gently brushed a stray strand of hair from Avianna’s forehead. The need to touch her, to confirm she was real and whole, was overwhelming.

“Tinakot mo ako,” Morgan whispered, her hand lingering for a moment before she pulled it back, tucking it safely into her pocket. “Tinakot mo ako, Avianna. Tangina… Abigail’s call… I-I thought…”

“I know,” Avianna said softly, her gaze understanding. “I’m sorry, Morgan. Ang tanga ko. I was in a hurry and wasn’t paying attention.”

“Don’t you ever do that again!” Morgan said, the force of her emotion making the words come out harsher than she intended.

A slow, knowing smile touched Avianna’s lips. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll… I’ll never let you drive a motorbike again,” Morgan finished, lamely, the heat rushing to her face.

Avianna’s smile widened. “Deal. You can be my permanent chauffeur.”

Just then, a nurse came in to check Avianna’s vitals, and the fragile moment shattered. Morgan busied herself with putting her bag in a corner, using the activity to wipe her tears and compose herself. The relief was so potent it felt like a drug, making her limbs weak.

Her Avianna was here.

She was alive.

She was smiling.

The doctor came in shortly after and confirmed what Abigail had said: a broken arm, severe bruising, a mild concussion. She was to be discharged later that day, but she needed rest and help. 

“Iuuwi na kita,” Morgan said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Kina Lola Remy, ha? Hindi sa dorm mo.”

Avianna didn’t protest. She just nodded, a look of profound relief washing over her own features. “Okay.”

The journey back was quiet and unhurried. Morgan was a shield, handling the discharge paperwork, hiring a private car for the winding road to the coast. She helped Avianna into the seat, buckling her in with careful hands. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of Avianna’s shirt, and for a fleeting second, the simple touch burned—a reminder of how close she had come to losing this.

Avianna dozed for most of the trip, lulled by the motion and the pain medication. Morgan watched her sleep, the rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes fanned against her bruised cheek. The fear of the last 24 hours began to slowly recede, but in its place grew a new, terrifying resolve. The confession was a living thing inside her now, clawing its way up her throat. She couldn’t keep it in any longer. But she couldn’t just blurt it out in a hospital room or a stuffy car.

She needed the right place. Their place.

They arrived at Avianna’s family home to a flurry of tears and hugs from her Lola Remy, Lolo Ino, and other relatives. The familiar sounds and smells of the coastal town were a balm to Morgan’s frayed nerves.

For the next two days, she slipped into the role of caretaker with quiet, single-minded devotion. She helped Avianna bathe, careful to keep the cast dry. She cooked her arroz caldo the way Avianna liked it—extra chili garlic, one hard-boiled egg. When headaches made it hard for Avianna to look at a screen, Morgan read to her from old, dog-eared novels, her voice soft and steady in the quiet room.

It was during these quiet, domestic moments that the old rhythm of their friendship returned, but it was deeper now, underscored by the unspoken terror they had both faced.

On the third day, as they sat on the porch watching the sky bleed into orange over the rooftops, Avianna broke a comfortable silence.

“You missed your exams,” she said quietly, not looking at Morgan.

“Alam ko.”

“’Yung scholarship mo…”

“It doesn’t matter, Avi.”

Avianna finally turned to look at her, her honey-colored eyes serious. “It does matter, Morgan. It was your dream.”

Morgan held her gaze, her heart thudding against her ribs. “It was a dream.” She looked away, out towards the sea, invisible beyond the houses but ever-present in the salt-laced air. The resolve solidified, hard and clear as diamond.

It was time.

“Tara,” Morgan said, standing up. 

Avianna looked up, pulled from her thoughts. “Saan?”

“Ride. Let’s go out on the boat.”

A frown creased Avianna’s brow as she automatically gestured to the cast encasing her arm. “A ride? Morgan, be serious. Look at me. Hindi ako makakasakay sa bangka nang ganito ang lagay. At mas lalong hindi ako makakalangoy.”

“Hindi tayo lalangoy, Avi,” Morgan reassured her. She knelt in front of Avianna’s chair, her eyes pleading and earnest. “I promise, you won't have to move from the boat. We’ll just… be on the water."

Avianna bit her lip, the conflict clear in her eyes. 

"Please, Avi," Morgan whispered, her voice thick with an emotion Avianna couldn't quite name. "I'm asking for a little of your trust.”

Something in Morgan’s tone must have convinced her. After a final, hesitant breath, Avianna met her eyes again and gave a slow, tentative nod. “Okay.”

Morgan helped her into a life jacket, then onto the small, familiar bangka they used for personal trips. The engine puttered to life, a sound as natural to Morgan as her own heartbeat. She navigated the boat away from the main dock, away from the lights of the town, heading toward the islands bathed in the last gold of the sun.

The sun was a molten sliver on the horizon, setting the sky on fire. The water was like glass, reflecting the brilliant colors, turning the world into a perfect, shimmering dream.

Morgan steered them towards Matukad Island. It wasn’t the most dramatic or the most popular, but it was... theirs.

It was where they had shared their first secret, where they had hidden from a sudden squall, where they had dreamed up their guiding business under a blanket of stars.

She cut the engine a few meters from the shore, letting the boat drift gently in the tranquil, sheltered cove. The silence was profound, broken only by the gentle lap of water against the hull and the distant cry of a seabird. The karst cliffs towered above them—ancient and silent witnesses.

“Bakit tayo nandito, Morgan?” Avianna asked softly, her voice barely a whisper in the sacred quiet.

Morgan couldn’t look at her. Because if she looked at her, she would lose her nerve. She stared at the cliffs, their rugged faces now painted in the deep purples and oranges of the dying light.

This was it. This was the moment.

The words she had held for more than five years, through laughter and distance and terror, were finally going to break free.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, her hands gripping the tiller.

“May kailangan akong sabihin sa’yo,” she began, her voice trembling. “And I need you to just… let me say it. Kasi I might not ever have the courage to say it again.”

She could feel Avianna’s gaze on the side of her face, but she kept her eyes fixed on the karst.

“No’ng tumawag si Abigail… no’ng sinabi niyang ikaw ‘yun…” Morgan’s voice broke. She swallowed, forcing the words out. “It was the worst moment of my life. I thought… I thought I had lost you. And all I could think was that I had wasted so much time. That I had been a coward.”

She closed her eyes, the memory of that paralyzing fear washing over her again.

"Morgan anong—" Avianna’s voice was a soft, pained whisper, but Morgan immediately shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut as if the sound physically hurt.

“Huwag muna, Avi. Please,” she begged, her voice raw. “Just... let me say everything first.”

She opened her eyes, but only to stare harder at the cliffs, using them as an anchor. The memory of that paralyzing fear washed over her again.

“Avianna Alvarez…” The name was a prayer, a sob, a final surrender. “I’m in love with you.”

The simple and monumental words hung in the air, changing the very composition of the evening around them.

“I have been since we were sixteen. Since that day we got caught in the rain here, and you were shivering, but still laughing like the storm was something to dance with. I'm starting to believe my heart was always just a compass pointing to you.”

The dam was broken. The words, once started, flowed like a river.

“It’s in everything. It’s in the way I peel your mangoes before you ask. It’s in the way I save the best piece of fish for you at lunch even when I’m still hungry. It’s in the way I sketch your face in the margins of my notes when I’m supposed to be studying coral anatomy. It’s the reason I left for Legazpi—because I thought if I didn’t, I would drown in it. But I was wrong. The distance didn’t help, Avi. It only taught me what kind of ache never goes away.”

Her tears were flowing freely now, dripping onto her shirt, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“Every tide pulled me back to you, Avianna.”

She drew in a shaky breath, her voice breaking.

"That’s why when you talked about Marco, it felt like the sea itself was scraping me hollow. Because he gets to stand where I used to, to hear your stories and laughter every day, while I’m stranded in the past, still in love with the ghost of what we were."

She finally risked a glance at Avianna. The fading light painted her in soft amber and shadow, impossible to read.

Panic lanced through Morgan. Fuck. This was a mistake. I had ruined everything.

“I know it wasn’t an invitation,” Morgan whispered, her voice raw with emotion, turning back to the safety of the cliffs. She was talking to them now—to the wind, to the sea. Confessing her secret to the only constants she was sure wouldn’t reject her. “Your smile, our friendship… it was never a promise. I know that, Avi.” She let out a shaky laugh, brittle and full of ache. “Pero sobrang hirap pala magmahal nang tahimik. To love you in all the small ways and pretend it means nothing.”

Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she tried to steady her breathing. “I’m sorry for saying this now, when you’re hurt and vulnerable. Pero kasi, no'ng mabalitaan ko 'yung nangyari sa'yo kagabi, when I thought I lost you—lahat ng kinakatakutan kong maramdaman, naramdaman ko nang sabay-sabay. I couldn’t breathe thinking I’d never get the chance to tell you.”

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her voice soft but steady. “You don’t have to say anything, Avi. You don’t have to feel the same. I just needed you to know, before life decides to take away another chance.”

Morgan’s lips trembled as she exhaled, a sound caught between a sob and a sigh. “If this ruins everything—if this ruins our friendship—then at least you’ll know. Because after everything, I’d rather shatter with the truth than spend my life haunted by the what-ifs.”

The ocean inside her was finally, completely, spent. She felt hollowed out, scraped clean. There was nothing left to give. She had laid her heart and her five-year secret at Avianna’s feet. BBut the silence that followed was the most terrifying sound she had ever heard. Because it was either the sound of her world waiting to end, or waiting to begin.

Chapter Text

The thing about finally telling your deepest, most terrifying truth is the silence that comes after. It isn't peaceful; it's a yawning chasm that swallows the echo of your own courage—a vacuum where every fear you've ever carried instantly multiplies, feeding on the sudden absence of your own voice. It is the most alone a person can ever feel, suspended in the space between the end of one world and the possible beginning of another.

The silence after Morgan’s confession was thick and heavy, broken only by the gentle lap of water against the boat. It stretched on, second after agonizing second, and with each one, Morgan’s heart fractured a little more. She kept her eyes fixed on the karst cliffs—a fortress of stone that felt as impenetrable as the quiet from the girl beside her.

This was the moment she had feared for five years—the moment the foundation of her world turned to ash. The hollow feeling inside her wasn’t peace; it was the void left after a star went supernova, leaving nothing but cold, dark matter behind.

She couldn't bear it. She had to move, to do something, to shatter this unbearable stillness before it suffocated her.

Her trembling hands went to start the engine. The sound would be a violence in the sacred quiet, but it would be a distraction from the sound of her own heart breaking.

“Don’t.”

The word was soft. A single, quiet syllable, but it struck Morgan like a sudden plunge into cold water, shocking her system and stealing her breath.

Her hand froze on the ignition.

She heard a rustle, a shift in weight. Avianna was moving. Morgan squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the sound of rejection, for the gentle letdown, for the awkward words that would formalize the end of their friendship.

But instead, she felt a touch.

Gentle and warm fingers brushed against her shoulder. Then, they pressed down, applying a soft, insistent pressure, turning her.

Morgan’s resistance was instinctive, born of a terror so profound it had become a part of her musculature.

She didn’t want to see the pity in Avianna’s eyes.

She didn’t want to see the careful, distant politeness that would now replace the easy warmth she had lived for.

“Morgan,” Avianna whispered, her voice husky with an emotion Morgan couldn’t place. “Look at me.”

The pressure on her shoulder increased, gentle but unyielding. Slowly, feeling as if she were moving through tar, Morgan allowed herself to be turned. She kept her eyes downcast, focused on the weathered wood of the boat’s floorboards, on Avianna’s sandaled feet.

“Please,” Avianna said, her voice cracking on the word.

That single, broken plea did what no force could. Morgan’s gaze lifted, dragging itself upward, over the faded denim of Avianna’s shorts, past the white of the cast resting against her thigh, over the simple cotton of her shirt, finally, fearfully, meeting her eyes.

And the world stopped.

Because there was no pity there. There was no shock, no disgust, no polite distance. Avianna’s eyes, those pools of liquid honey Morgan had spent a lifetime drowning in, were shimmering with unshed tears. But more than that, they were wide with a dawning, staggering, impossible wonder.

“Say it again,” Avianna breathed, her voice barely a whisper, carried away on the sea breeze. Her gaze was locked on Morgan’s as if she were trying to see straight into the core of her, to the truth of the words she had just poured into the ocean.

Morgan’s mind went blank. “W-what?”

“The words,” Avianna insisted, her fingers tightening slightly on Morgan’s shoulder. “Say the words to me, Morgan. Not to the cliffs. Not to the sea. To me.”

The request was so simple, yet it demanded a courage far greater than the first confession. That had been a release, a throwing of her heart into the void. This was… an offering. A direct, vulnerable handing over of her soul. She had to look into the eyes of the person she loved most in the world and speak her truth.

She swallowed, her throat dry as dust. She felt stripped bare, more vulnerable than she had ever been in her life.

But Avianna’s gaze held her, steady and waiting.

“I…” Morgan began, her voice a ragged scrape. She took a shuddering breath, gathering the shattered pieces of her courage. “I am in love with you, Avianna Alvarez.”

She said her name. It was a prayer, a confession, and a promise.

“I have been since we were sixteen,” she continued, her voice gaining a sliver of strength, fueled by the raw, open expression on Avianna’s face. “It’s the reason I know you hate the texture of okra. It's the reason I watch your dive into the water more than I watch the corals below. It's the reason I know which jagged coral formations to point out to tourists, because I've memorized every one you've ever bumped into. It’s… it’s everything. You are everything, Avi.”

A single tear escaped the corner of Avianna’s eye, tracing a slow, silvery path down her bruised cheek. But she was smiling. A slow, tremulous, breathtaking smile that broke through the last of Morgan’s fear like the sun breaking through a typhoon.

“All this time,” Avianna whispered, her own voice thick with emotion. “All this time, Morgan… I was waiting for an invitation.”

Morgan’s mind short-circuited. The words made no sense. They hung in the air between them, beautiful and bewildering. “A-Ano?”

Avianna let out a wet, shaky laugh, her thumb stroking a soft, absent-minded circle on Morgan’s shoulder. “I thought… I thought I was imagining it. I-I thought I was seeing what I wanted to see. Every glance, every touch… I convinced myself it was just you. Just Morgan. My best friend. Because the thought of it being more… the thought that you might feel it too… it was too terrifying to hope for.”

She shifted, wincing a bit as she moved her cast, but her gaze never wavered. “Naalala mo pa ba no’ng seventeenth birthday ko? When you gave me that seashell?”

Morgan nodded, dumbfounded. It was a small, perfect tiger cowrie, gleaming white and dotted with dark spots. She’d spent weeks searching for one that flawless.

“You said you found it because it reminded you of the freckles on my nose,” Avianna said, her eyes soft with the memory. “And I held that shell, and my heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. I slept with it under my pillow for a year. I thought… surely, that was something. That had to mean something.”

“It did,” Morgan whispered, her own tears falling freely now. “It meant everything.”

“But you never said anything!” Avianna’s voice broke, threaded with both frustration and aching tenderness. “Tapos no’ng fiesta, no’ng sumasayaw tayo… you were looking at me, and for a second, it felt like the whole world was holding its breath. I thought you were going to kiss me. I was hoping you would. I was praying you would, Morgan.”

Morgan stared at her, the memory of that night crashing over her with new, devastating clarity. The lights, the music, the feel of Avianna’s shoulders under her hand. 

Should’ve kissed you anyway. 

“I… I wanted to, Avi. I wanted to so badly. I was just… so scared.”

“I know,” Avianna said softly. “I was scared, too. Scared of ruining the one perfect thing in my life. I talked about Marco, not because I had any real interest in him, but because I was hoping… I was hoping it would make you react, Morgan. That it would finally be the invitation I was waiting for. A sign that you felt even a fraction of what I was feeling.”

The admission hung between them, stunning in its simplicity. All the years of longing, of misinterpreted signals, of quiet, desperate hope on both sides. They had been two stars orbiting each other in the same constellation, each believing the other was light-years away.

“You… you felt this, too?” Morgan asked, the question a fragile, hopeful thing. She hardly dared to believe it.

Avianna’s smile was like the dawn after a long, dark night.

“Morgan,” she said, her voice laced with a love so deep and so certain it made Morgan’s knees weak. “You are my favorite view. You always have been. When I entered college and stayed at the university dorm, it wasn’t the city lights or the nearby islands I missed. It was the way you look when you’re concentrating, with your tongue between your teeth. It was the way you smell of salt and sunshine. It was the quiet certainty of you, standing at the tiller, guiding us home. I was so lost without you. I just didn’t know I was allowed to stay forever. I didn’t know I could ask for that.”

The words washed over Morgan, healing a wound she had carried for so long she’d forgotten what it was like to be without it. The hollowness inside her filled, not with the quiet ache of longing, but with a radiant, effervescent joy so powerful it was almost painful.

“You don’t have to ask, Avi,” Morgan whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “You have me. You’ve always had me.”

For a long moment, they just looked at each other, the truth settling around them like a soft blanket. The last of the sun’s rays dipped below the horizon, leaving the world bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of twilight. The karst cliffs were dark sentinels against a lavender sky, the first stars beginning to prick the velvety expanse above.

Avianna slowly, carefully, lifted her good hand. She cupped Morgan’s cheek, her thumb gently wiping away the tear tracks. Her touch was warm, real, and so full of a reverent tenderness that Morgan felt her breath catch.

“Can I…” Avianna began, her eyes dropping to Morgan’s lips for a fleeting, heart-stopping second before returning to her eyes. “Can I please kiss you now? I’ve waited… I think I’ve waited my whole life.”

A wave of pure, unadulterated relief washed over Morgan, manifesting as a sob that melted into a breathless, joyful laugh. She nodded, unable to form words.

Avianna leaned in slowly, giving Morgan every opportunity to pull away. But Morgan was rooted to the spot, her entire being focused on the girl moving towards her. She could feel the warmth of Avianna’s breath, see the individual lashes framing her beautiful, earnest eyes.

The first touch of their lips was a whisper. Soft, hesitant, a question and an answer all at once. It was not a collision of passion, but a gentle meeting—a homecoming. It was sweet and salty from their shared tears, and it tasted like the future.

Morgan’s eyes fluttered closed. Her hand came up to cover Avianna’s where it rested against her cheek, holding it there. The world, with all its worries and distances and fears, simply fell away.

There was only this: the gentle pressure of Avianna’s mouth on hers, the sound of their mingled breaths, the solid, real presence of the girl she loved, finally, finally in her arms.

When they finally parted, it was only by a breath. They rested their foreheads together, their eyes still closed, sharing the same air.

“Wow,” Avianna breathed, her voice full of awe.

A genuine, unburdened laugh bubbled up from Morgan’s chest, a sound she hadn’t heard from herself in years. “Yeah. Wow.”

She opened her eyes. Avianna was looking at her, her gaze so full of open, adoring love that it was almost too bright to look at directly.

“I should have kissed you at the fiesta,” Morgan murmured, her thumb stroking Avianna’s cheekbone, careful to avoid the bruise.

“You should have,” Avianna agreed, a playful glint in her eyes. “But this… this was worth the wait.”

They stayed like that for a long time, as the stars multiplied above them and the moon began to paint a silver path across the black water. They talked in hushed, wondering tones, their words tripping over each other as they untangled years of misunderstandings.

“So, when I told you about Marco’s project idea…” Avianna prompted.

“I wanted to throw my phone into the ocean,” Morgan admitted, her face heating. "Kaso wala namang dagat na malapit sa dorm."

Avianna giggled, the sound like music in the quiet night. “I was so jealous of your lab partner in Legazpi. The one you mentioned once. Maria.”

“Maria? She talked about her boyfriend non-stop!”

“Hindi ko naman alam! I just saw a name, and I spiraled.”

They laughed, the sound echoing softly against the cliffs, a release of years of pent-up tension and fear. The boat drifted gently, a tiny, private world adrift in a sea of newfound happiness.

Eventually, the cool night air began to seep in. Morgan reluctantly started the engine, the sound a gentle intrusion on their bubble.

But the spell wasn’t broken.

As she guided the boat back towards the twinkling lights of the town, Avianna scooted closer, resting her head against Morgan’s shoulder, her good hand finding Morgan’s free one and lacing their fingers together.

The simple act of holding her hand, out in the open, with no fear, no hidden meaning, sent a thrill through Morgan that was more powerful than any kiss.

“What happens now?” Morgan asked softly, her voice barely audible over the putter of the engine.

Avianna tilted her head to look up at her. “Ngayon,” she said, her voice firm and sure, “i-uuwi mo na ako. Bukas naman, you help me figure out how to do everything with this stupid cast. And the day after that, and the day after that… you stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Morgan promised, pressing a kiss to the top of Avianna’s head. “I’m never leaving you again.”

As they approached the dock, Morgan cut the engine, letting the boat glide the last few feet. The world they were returning to was the same world they had left—the same town, the same houses, the same people. But everything was different. The colors were brighter, the air was sweeter, the future was no longer a lonely path, but a wide, sun-drenched road they would walk together.

She tied up the boat with steady hands, then turned to help Avianna. As they stood on the dock, hand in hand, under the canopy of a million stars, Morgan knew she had been wrong.

She hadn’t ruined the friendship.

She had simply stepped out of its shadow and into the brilliant, glorious light of a love that had been waiting for her all along.

The archipelago of their shared life had just found its true north.

And it was in the palm of her hand, fingers laced tightly with hers.

Chapter Text

Epilogue: Anyway, Always

An island, no matter how beautiful, can feel like a lonely piece of a map—until you discover it is part of an archipelago; until you learn the currents that connect it to another shore; until you realize that the distance between two points was never a separation, but a journey home. Then the landscape of a life, once familiar and solitary, is redrawn. The empty sea becomes a pathway. The horizon, once a limit, turns into a promise. You are no longer just a place, but part of a greater, more beautiful whole. 

The world had not, in fact, ended. The sun rose the next morning over Caramoan, painting the familiar karst cliffs in hues of rose and gold, just as it had for millennia. The roosters crowed, the fishermen set out in their bangkas, and the scent of frying garlic and rice filled the air. But for Morgan, the universe had been fundamentally, irrevocably remade.

Waking up in the small guest room of Avianna’s grand parents’ house felt different. The light streaming through the window seemed softer, the sounds of the waking town more melodic. Her first conscious thought was not of the sea or her abandoned exams, but of the memory of Avianna’s lips on hers, the feel of her hand in hers, and the sound of her voice saying, “You are my favorite view.”

A nervous, giddy flutter took up residence in her chest.

Had it been real? Or had the stress and fear conjured the most beautiful dream of her life?

The question was answered when she stepped out into the main living area. Avianna was already up, sitting at the wooden table, struggling to butter a piece of pandesal with her left hand, her right arm still encased in its white shell. Lola Remy was puttering near the stove, humming softly.

Avianna looked up as Morgan entered. And she smiled.

It wasn’t her usual, wide, miles-wide grin. It was smaller, softer, a private, intimate curve of her lips that was meant for Morgan and Morgan alone. Her eyes, still shadowed by the fading bruise on her cheek, held a new, unguarded warmth that made Morgan’s breath catch.

“Good morning,” Avianna said, her voice still a little sleep-rough.

“Good morning,” Morgan replied, her own voice barely a whisper.

Lola Remy turned, her wise old eyes crinkling at the corners as she looked between them. She said nothing, but a knowing, gentle smile touched her lips before she turned back to her cooking. She had always seen more than she let on.

The flutter in Morgan’s chest settled into a steady, radiant glow. It was real.

“Tulungan na kita,” Morgan said, moving to the table and taking the knife and pandesal from Avianna’s clumsy left hand. Her fingers brushed against Avianna’s, and a simple, electric current passed between them. They both stilled for a moment, their eyes meeting, sharing a secret in the bright morning light.

This was the new rhythm of their days. A dance of gentle touches, shared glances, and soft-spoken words. Morgan’s caregiving, which had before been born of frantic worry, was now an act of devotion, a language of love. She helped Avianna wash her hair, her fingers massaging shampoo into her scalp over a basin, their laughter echoing in the small bathroom when soap suds dripped onto Morgan’s nose. She learned to tie a sarong one-handed for her, her hands lingering at Avianna’s waist.

They talked. They talked for hours, curled up on the porch swing or walking slowly along the shore, their pace dictated by Avianna’s healing body. They untangled the entire tapestry of their friendship, pulling on threads of old memories to reveal the golden ones of mutual longing that had been woven through them all along.

“'Yung time na nagkaroon ka ng malalang flu no’ng third year pa lang tayo,” Avianna recalled, leaning her head against Morgan’s shoulder as they watched the waves. “Um-absent ako ng tatlong araw no'n to stay with you. Galit na galit si Lola. I told her it was because I was afraid of catching your germs if the house was dirty.”

Morgan chuckled, her arm wrapped securely around Avianna. “’Yan nga ang idinahilan mo sa akin dati. And I believed you! I just thought you were a germaphobe.”

“I was,” Avianna said softly, tilting her head to look at her. “But only about losing you.” The confession was a quiet, profound gift.

A week after the confession on the boat, Morgan knew she had to face the real world. She set up her laptop on the porch, the sea breeze a comforting companion as she drafted emails to her professors in Legazpi. She explained the situation with more honesty than she’d ever dared before, attaching a copy of Avianna’s hospital discharge papers. To her astonishment, the responses were overwhelmingly understanding—they offered her incompletes and the chance to make up her exams the following week.

The world, it seemed, was not as rigid as she had feared.

It was Avianna who broached the future. “What do you want to do now?” she asked one afternoon, her fingers laced with Morgan’s as they sat on the dock, their feet dangling in the cool water.

Morgan didn’t hesitate. “I want to stay rito sa CamSur. Kasama ka.”

“But your degree…”

“I can transfer,” Morgan said, the decision feeling as natural as breathing. "May Marine Biology program na ino-offer ParSU College of Fisheries and Marine Science. It's not in Caramoan but it's way nearer than Legazpi. Plus, I get to continue my course. Hindi ko kailangan mag-shift. I get to go home during weekends, too."

"Morgan..." Avianna’s voice was a soft whisper, laced with a concern that was both touched with awe and heavy with the weight of the sacrifice she thought Morgan was making. Her fingers tightened their hold, as if she could physically absorb Morgan’s certainty.

Morgan, feeling that anxious grip, turned her hand to properly intertwine their fingers, her thumb stroking a soothing pattern over Avianna’s knuckles.

“This is where I belong, Avi,” she said, her voice firm and clear, leaving no room for doubt. “It always has been. The ocean, the islands… you. This is my real work.”

Avianna’s smile was like the sun coming out. “Then let’s build it. For real. Our eco-tour. Not Marco’s and mine. Ours.”

And so, they began. With Avianna’s cast propped on a pillow and Morgan’s laptop open, they started to dream again—but this time, side by side, their hearts and minds moving in perfect, open rhythm. They pored over maps, not just as guides, but as blueprints for possibility. Avianna reached out to the elders of the community, recording their stories—the true legends of the land and sea—while Morgan immersed herself in research on marine life and sustainable practices.

Their first official date wasn’t at a fancy restaurant or a movie theater. It was a research trip, but this time, they went inland. Morgan drove them on her motorcycle, Avianna holding on tightly behind her, her good arm looped around Morgan’s waist, as they headed toward the lush, forested trails of Caramoan. They wandered through shaded groves and winding paths, the air rich with the scent of earth and vegetation. Later, they made a brief detour to a nearby family-run pili nut farm in the countryside, where the owner showed them how the iconic nuts were harvested and processed. Hand in hand, they explored the farm and its quiet corners before finding a secluded spot by a cascading stream, the cold, fresh water a stark contrast to the warm, salty sea.

“They shared a picnic of laing and Bicol Express that Lola Remy had packed, feeding each other spicy spoonfuls, their laughter carrying through the shady grove.

"It’s better than I imagined,” Morgan said, watching the way the dappled sunlight played on Avianna’s hair.

“What is?” Avianna asked, licking a stray drop of coconut milk from her lip.

“All of it. This. Being with you… without the silence.” Morgan clarified, her voice soft. “Not having to carry this… this enormous, wonderful secret in my chest anymore. I feel like I can finally just breathe.”

Avianna’s smile was soft, her eyes shimmering with understanding. She reached out, her fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from Morgan’s forehead.

“You never have to carry anything alone again, Ba,” she whispered, her voice as steady and reassuring as the earth beneath them.

The familiar endearment sent a wave of warmth through Morgan. Ba... From padaba. It was more than a nickname; it was love, distilled into one small, perfect syllable."

A smile, soft and full of wonder, touched Morgan’s lips.

“Your dreams are my dreams,” Avianna continued, her voice full of unwavering certainty. “From now on, we breathe together.”

She leaned her forehead against Morgan’s, their shared air creating a tiny, perfect world between them.

“And for the record,” she added, her voice dropping to a playful, loving murmur, “watching you breathe freely is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The pinnacle of those early, golden days came on an evening when the air was heavy with the promise of a gentle monsoon rain. They were on the porch of Avianna’s house, going over their fledgling business plan, when the first fat drops began to fall, pattering on the corrugated tin roof.

“'Yung laundry!” Avianna exclaimed, starting to get up.

“Ako na ang kukuha,” Morgan said, pressing her back down gently. “Dito ka lang.”

She dashed into the growing downpour, gathering the dry clothes from the line, her shirt quickly plastered to her skin. When she returned, arms full of fabric and laughter spilling from her lips, her hair clung to her face in wet strands. Avianna was waiting in the doorway, her expression so full of tender affection that Morgan’s laughter faded mid-breath.

They stood there for a moment, the rain creating a curtain of privacy around the doorway.

The world was reduced to the drumming on the roof and the space between them.

“I love you, Morgan,” Avianna said, the words simple, clear, and sure. It was the first time she had said them in the full, bright light of day, without the catalyst of fear or the cover of darkness.

The words settled in Morgan’s soul—a final, missing piece clicking into place. She dropped the laundry onto a dry chair and stepped forward, her wet hands coming up to frame Avianna’s face.

“I love you, too, Avianna,” Morgan whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Anyway. Always.”

And this time, their kiss was deep and sure, and tasted of rain and home and a future they would build together. Morgan poured more than five years of silent love into that kiss, and Avianna answered her with a lifetime of yeses.

When they parted, they were breathless and smiling. The rain was already beginning to slow, leaving the world washed clean and sparkling.

Five Years Later

The bangka was newer—a sturdy, custom-built boat with a small, shaded canopy and the words ‘Archipelago Hearts Eco-Tours’ painted in elegant blue script on the side. Morgan stood at the tiller, her hands confident, her skin tanned a deep gold from a lifetime of sun and sea. The lines on her face were from smiling, not from worry.

She guided the boat smoothly into the serene cove of Matukad Island. Their group for the day gasped at the beauty, just as everyone always did.

But Morgan’s eyes weren’t on the stunning scenery. They were on Avianna.

Avianna stood at the bow, her voice carrying easily as she began to tell NOT the myth of the sea serpent, but the true story of the island’s role as a sacred fishing ground for their ancestors. Her passion was palpable, her connection to the stories deep and respectful. The cast was long gone, and her body moved with its old, graceful strength. She caught Morgan’s gaze and winked—a private, intimate gesture that still sent a thrill through Morgan after all these years.

This was their life.

Their dream, made real.

Their business was small but thriving, known for its authenticity and deep respect for the land and culture. They lived in a small, airy house they had built together on a plot of land overlooking the sea, not far from where they’d grown up.

It was filled with books, maps, shells, and the quiet, profound happiness of a shared life.

That evening, after seeing off their guests, they slipped into their own boat, as was their ritual. Words were unnecessary. They sat side by side, Morgan’s arm around Avianna, Avianna’s head resting on her shoulder, watching the sun perform its nightly miracle, painting the sea in molten gold and rose.

“Ba, do you ever think about it?” Avianna asked softly, her voice muffled against Morgan’s shirt. “What would have happened if I hadn’t had that accident?”

Morgan tightened her hold. She thought of the frantic bus rides, the sterile hospital smell, and the terrifying, clarifying fear. She thought of the whisper to the karst cliffs—the bravest thing she had ever done.

“Every day, Ba,” Morgan admitted. “And every day, I come to the same conclusion: that sometimes you have to take the risk.” She turned, pressing a kiss into Avianna’s hair. “So my advice is always ruin the friendship. Better that than regret it for all time.”

Avianna lifted her head, her eyes shining in the twilight. “Tss. You didn’t ruin it, you know. In-upgrade mo lang.”

Morgan laughed. “To a luxury model.”

“With permanent, first-class seating for two,” Avianna agreed, her smile luminous.

They sat in comfortable silence as the stars emerged, peppering the velvet sky. Morgan’s mind drifted back to the desperate, lovesick girl she had been, whispering her secret to the wind, believing it was the end of everything.

She had been so wrong. It was not the end. It was the very beginning.

The friendship they had so feared losing was not gone; it was the bedrock upon which they had built a love that was stronger, deeper, and more resilient than anything she could have imagined. It was in the easy way they worked together, in the comfort of their silences, in the shared history that was the foundation of their present.

“You were right, you know,” Morgan murmured.

“About what?”

“That day in the hospital. You said I was your permanent chauffeur.” Morgan gestured to the boat, to the sea, to their entire life. “And I am. Gladly. For the rest of my life.”

Avianna’s smile was soft and full of a love that had been tested by distance and fear and had emerged unbreakable. “So my advice,” she said, leaning in until their lips were a breath apart, “is always answer the question. Better that than to ask it all your life.”

They were so close that Morgan could feel the whisper of Avianna’s words against her own lips. Instead of pulling back, she let her forehead rest against Avianna’s, her eyes drifting shut for a heartbeat as she gathered her courage. When they opened again, the look in them was so profoundly full of love and intent that the playful light in Avianna’s eyes softened into a look of curious wonder.

“Why, Morgan?” Avianna whispered, her voice barely audible. “May problema ba?”

“Avi,” Morgan began, her voice trembling. “That day on this boat, I told you I should have kissed you at the fiesta. And it was the truest thing I’d ever felt. I spent years asking myself a question I was too scared to answer.” She squeezed her hands. “But you were right. We have to answer the questions so we can live without regrets..”

Morgan released one hand and reached into her pocket, letting her fingers brush against something small and smooth. She lifted it, letting the fading light catch it just right—a glint that danced across the water.

It was a ring. Simple, yet impossibly elegant. At its center rested a tiger cowrie shell, its creamy surface flecked with dark spots like tiny constellations. The shell gleamed against the polished white gold band, each curve and contour glowing in the golden sunset.

Avianna’s breath caught, her hands flying to her mouth, her eyes instantly glistening with tears.

For a moment, the world fell away: the sound of the waves, the faint cry of a seabird, the salt-laden air—all reduced to the single, perfect symbol Morgan held out to her.

“It reminded me of the freckles on your nose,” Morgan whispered, echoing her words from a lifetime ago. Her own tears began to fall as she looked up, meeting Avianna’s stunned, beautiful gaze. “Avianna Alvarez… you are my favorite island and my most sacred shore. The question I was always too scared to ask is… will you stay with me? Not just for now, but for always? Will you let me be your permanent chauffeur, your best friend, your partner, your wife? Will you build every single dream with me?”

A trembling sob escaped Avianna’s lips. She nodded, her voice a tearful whisper. “Yes. Yes, Morgan. Anyway. Always.”

As Morgan slipped the ring onto her finger, Avianna threw her arms around her neck, holding her as if she were the only anchor in the universe. They clung to each other, laughing and crying into each other’s shoulders, the boat rocking gently as if the sea itself was celebrating with them.

When they finally pulled apart, Morgan cupped Avianna’s face, her thumbs wiping away the happy tears.

“We did ruin the friendship,” Morgan whispered, her smile radiant. “And I’d ruin it a thousand times over to end up right here.”

Avianna’s eyes sparkled as she glanced at the ring on her finger. “Then my last advice,” she said, her voice full of awe, “is always… always kiss me anyway.”

A soft, joyful chuckle escaped Morgan, the sound blending with the whisper of the sea. "Gladly."

They leaned in, kissing beneath the infinite, star-dusted sky as the gentle waves rocked their boat. Morgan felt a certainty settle deep in her bones. They had navigated the treacherous waters of fear and found their safe harbor in each other. The archipelago of their shared soul was whole, every island, every cove, every hidden lagoon explored and cherished.

They had chosen to kiss anyway.

And it had brought them home.