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The sun rose lazily over the surf-streaked coastline of Baler, painting the narrow streets in honey-gold light. Every ripple of the tide shimmered like liquid fire, catching the edges of the old fishing boats docked near the shore. The scent of salt, warm bread, and damp wood floated in the air. Usual morning, you'll not notice it made you forget, even for a heartbeat, that the world could ever be cruel.
Maloi perched on the wooden railing of the tiny balcony of her rented apartment, hugging a thermos of lukewarm coffee like it was a lifeline.
A few children played along the sand, chasing waves that kept running away from their laughter.
She smiled faintly. This place is beautiful, she thought. Maybe too beautiful.
But beneath that calm, something restless stirred in her chest. Her fingers trembled slightly, more from anxiety than the morning chill.
It was the year 2000 — the start of a new millennium, full of promise and paranoia.
Maloi had left the city, left Colet, and put a pause on the life she’d built in Manila for what she thought was the chance of a lifetime: a one-year supervisory immersion at the rural branch of Infinity Bank in Baler. She had dreamed of that promotion for years, whispered prayers over it, wrote it on scraps of paper like little spells.
But now that she was here, the dream felt heavy. Too quiet. Too far.
She sipped her coffee, the bitter taste anchoring her thoughts. Inevitably, her mind wandered to Colet, her girlfriend of three years — the woman who could shuffle a deck of cards faster than Maloi could count, the woman who smelled like Lucky Me and lavender lotion after every shift at Casino Filipino, Heritage Hotel.
“Jusko, bakit ang layo ng mundo?”
Maloi whispered to herself, rocking slightly as she stared at the horizon.
This balcony — this tiny square of wood overlooking Sabang Beach — was her favorite spot, not only because of the view but because it was the only spot in the apartment where her Smart SIM could get three bars of signal. Three little bars — that’s what kept her tethered to Colet. Three tiny miracles that allowed love to travel across mountains and ocean spray.
“Baler is beautiful,” she sighed,
“pero… walang Colet.”
Maloi had almost refused the promotion, not because she doubted her skills but because she feared distance.
And maybe a little because of Stacey, her conspiracy-theorist best friend from college, who had convinced her that the year 2000 was the year everything would end.
“Penz, markahan mo ’tong taon na ’to, ito na talaga yun,” Stacey had said with wide, knowing eyes. “Technology will destroy humanity. Magiging tool yan ng mga hindi chosen.”
At first, Maloi laughed it off. But when the total lunar eclipse turned the moon a deep in haunting red, she had shivered for real. And it still January.
Then the “ILOVEYOU” virus spread through email and crashed Infinity Bank’s computer systems for an entire day. The staff panicked. No one forseen something like that could ever happen. No one could withdraw or deposit anything that day, first time in the banking history.
Stacey: Penz, sbi sau eh gagamitin ng devil ang technology.
From then on, Maloi started to believe — just a little. She began forwarding every chain text she received, even the ridiculous ones.
From 09181123480:
I-send mo toh sa 20 na katao kundi mamatay ka sa pagkalunod ngayong taon at masusunugan ang pamilya moh.
Even though unlimited texting didn’t exist yet, she’d still buy extra load, just to be safe. She’d laugh about it after, but deep down she couldn’t shake the unease.
She remembered the night before she left Manila.
“Bih, what if mag-end of the world na tapos andun ako, andito ka?”
Maloi’s voice cracked as she half-joked, half-cried, watching Colet struggle to pack her 1-year worth of clothes into two luggages.
Colet stopped folding sweatshirts, turned, and pulled her close.
“Yaan mo, bih. Kung end of the world na, I’ll make sure magkasama tayo.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Colet was always calm and precise when dealing cards, but in love she was wild, reckless, alive. Maloi had been so thoroughly spoiled — Colet cooking for her after graveyard shifts, massaging her temples when she came home tired, laughing at her corny jokes — that the thought of living apart felt like losing oxygen.
“Oh, ito, biogesic nilagay ko sa bulsa. Maulan daw lagi dun, naglagay ako ng payong sa bandang ilalim.”
Colet’s voice was part nag, part lullaby.
“Mag-alarm ka para hindi mo makalimutan na nagsasaing ka. Tatlo lang pantalon mo, kaya ingatan mo. Pwede mo namang ulitin isuot, promise di halata.”
“Alam ko na yan, hindi naman ako elementary,” Maloi rolled her eyes.
“Ah basta,” Colet smiled, tucking a stray hair behind Maloi’s ear. “Mag-iingat ka dun ha. Lagi mong ila-lock yung pinto.”
When they loaded her bags into the taxi, Maloi’s chest felt like it was splitting open.
“Mag-text tayo tuwing umaga, pagkauwi mo from casino ha, bago ako pumasok sa bank,” Maloi said, holding Colet’s hand through the open window.
“Oo. Dadalawin kita pag nagkaroon ako ng weekend off,” Colet replied, kissing her forehead.
At the Cubao terminal, as the bus pulled away, Colet waved both hands like a child — exaggerated, teasing, bright. Maloi pressed her palm to the glass and finally let the tears fall.
Back in the present, the sharp buzz of her Nokia 3310 cut through the sound of waves. Her heart leapt.
Colet: Gudmorning sleepyhead! Hope u had ur coffee na. Remmbr, my cgnal or wla, lagi ka nasa <3 ko.
Maloi smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.
Maloi: Mahal! miss n kta sbra. LDR life sucks. Huhuhu T_T
She could almost hear Colet’s voice teasing her:
“Bih, kaya mo ’yan. Finally malaki ka na.”
The first month in Baler was a comedy of errors. The water pump broke twice. She had to fetch water from the community’s flowing water, balancing a pail like a child. The tricycle drivers teased her every morning:
“Ma’am City Girl, marunong ka po pala maglaba ng walamg washing machine"
She laughed it off, cheeks flushed.
She started to learn the rhythms of the town — the rooster that crowed exactly at 4:17 a.m., the smell of taho by sunrise, the laughter of families gathered by the shore sipping morning coffee from enamel mugs. There was Mang Tony, her landlord, who always had spare ice for her Milo, and Aling Sonya, who’d bring her boiled saba whenever she looked homesick.
And somehow, amidst all that strangeness, she began to feel at home.
Every morning, she’d wait for Colet’s text. Every night, she’d write hers in advance, just in case the signal failed. They talked about everything — their meals, their days, the little things that made them laugh.
Maloi: Bih, ngulat aq, may pusa sa table. Sinampal yung sinigang ko.
Colet: Hahaha! Sbi ko na sau, d ka p ready sa rural life. Gsto m, pnta aq jn, ibalik lht ng comfort m.
Maloi: Jusko, kala mo 2hrs lang travel!
Colet: Txt is fyn, pro alm m, miss ko n yakap ka.
Maloi stared at that message until the screen dimmed.
The world was quiet, but her heart was loud.
She leaned back against the wooden wall, whispering to herself,
“Kaya ko ‘to. Kasi may naghihintay.”
As the weeks passed, Maloi adjusted. She learned to cook rice perfectly. She learned to smile at the neighbor’s gossip. She even started collecting seashells after work — “souvenirs para pagbalik ko kay Colet,” she’d say, storing them in an old glass jar.
But every night before bed, she’d clutch her blanket tight, whispering,
“Goodnight, Bih.”
Even when there was no reply.
By July, Maloi had already memorized the rhythm of her new life.
She woke at six, boiled water for coffee using a rusted kettle that screamed like a banshee when it was ready, watered the potted plants her landlady insisted she keep (“para daw hindi ka manibago sa probinsya”), and walked to the bank, skirt hem brushing against the dust of the narrow road. On most days, she’d greet tricycle drivers who already knew her name. “Good morning, Supervisor!” they’d tease, and she’d laugh shyly, cheeks turning pink.
But her days were never truly full. There was always a missing piece that nothing in Baler could replace. A great realization came upon her, not the golden sunrise, not the sound of waves, not even the sweetness of local bibingka would ever replace Colet.
It was Colet. Always Colet.
Every night, Maloi would sit on her balcony, phone in hand, waiting for a signal to flicker back to life. One bar, two, then finally three — she’d quickly open her inbox, hoping for that familiar “1 new message.”
Colet: Bih, kng nsa harap kta, yakap kta tpos sabay tau inom ng beer sa tabing dagat.
Maloi: Gusto ko yan. Pero eto, kape lang meron ko.
Colet: Ok lang. Kape mo, beer ko. Tapos kwento mo araw mo.
And she would. She told her about the neighbour kids who would trade shell necklaces just to let them play ‘snake’ on her phone, about Mang Tony’s endless jokes, about how the sea smelled like longing.
Even in short text messages, they built a home — digital but real, quiet but alive.
Then came the typhoon season.
The radio announcer said their names like curses. Reming. Daling. Twin storms forming over the Pacific. Rain that didn’t stop for days.
Baler braced itself; people boarded up their windows, gathered flashlights, stocked on rice and sardines.
Maloi tried to be brave — she had seen worse in Manila, she told herself — but fear had a way of creeping in through the sound of wind against glass.
Then came the news from the north: Payatas landslide. Hundreds dead. Manila flooded.
Her hands went cold as she fumbled to text Colet.
No signal.
Not even a bar.
Maloi: Bih, okay ka lang? Pls txt me asap.
She waited. And waited.
The rain outside became her heartbeat — relentless, too loud. Two days passed. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. She prayed harder than she ever had.
“Lord, wag mo naman silang pababayaan.”
She even clutched two rosaries — one for her mother, one for Colet — while sitting by the window all night.
Then, on the third day, her phone finally buzzed.
The ringtone was faint, but it was enough to make her sprint toward the balcony.
“Hello, hello! Colet?!” she gasped.
“Hello, Maloi! Naririnig mo ko?”
Tears broke before she could answer.
“Oo, naririnig kita! Jusko, akala ko—”
Her voice cracked. “Akala ko nawala ka na.”
“Sorry, bih. Ang bilis ng pangyayari. Nasa trabaho pa ako nung nag-brownout. Tapos biglang ang bilis ng baha. Pero okay na kami. Nakontak ko na rin sila mama mo.”
“Okay lang ba bahay mo? Paano ka—”
“Okay na rin. Medyo sira sa baba pero safe kami. Wag ka na umiyak, bih. Miss na miss kita.”
Maloi clutched the phone like it was her pulse.
The line crackled, and then — silence.
Disconnected.
She stayed there, eyes closed, whispering a thank you to whoever might be listening. The sea roared outside, but her heart was quiet again.
August arrived with heavy skies. The wind howled differently — more urgent, more alive.
A once in a lifetime Supertyphoon was forming east of Luzon.
Stacey texted her out of nowhere.
Stacey: Penz, this might be it. Sabi ko na nga ba eh. The big one is coming.
Maloi laughed nervously, but her heart was pounding.
For days, it is all the TV news and radio talks about.
Even Rated K made a special segment on typhoon preparedness.
The tricycle drivers stopped joking. The air smelled like iron and fear.
She started packing a “go bag” — flashlight, bottled water, two rosaries, and a small photo of her and Colet at Star City. She even threw in two packs of Chippy, because, as she muttered, “kung end of the world na, at least may snacks.”
She texted Colet again that morning.
Maloi: Baka ito na yung sinasabi ni Stacey. Signal No. 5 daw. Jusko, kinakabahan ako.
Colet: Bih, wag kang masyadong matakot. Basta sumunod ka sa protocol. Sa Cagayan naman daw ang landfall.
Maloi: Ewan, iba pakiramdam ko.
Colet: O sige, yaan mo, pntahan kita jn.
Maloi: Hay naku, ngayon ka pa talaga magpapaasa. Alm mo nga natatakot ako eh. Hmp.
No reply came after that.
By afternoon, the wind had already begun screaming. The sea was wild, spitting foam and fury onto the shore.
The radio announcer’s voice trembled as he said, “Supertyphoon changed direction, will land in North Aurora instead, Landfall expected within hours.”
Maloi: Bih, baka mawalan na kami ng kuryente mamaya.
[sent]
Maloi: Bih, nag-sara na kami ng maaga sa bangko.
[sent]
Maloi: Bih, may tricycle na umiikot, nag-aannounce ng evacuation. Dito na daw magla-landfall ang bagyo.
[sent]
Maloi: Colet, asan ka ba. Naiinis na ako sayo.
[sent]
Her messages hung in the air like unanswered prayers.
First time in months they were apart that Colet missed to reply. Well, aside from the day there was typhoon.
For a minute she forgot about the Supertyphoon and wonder what happened to Colet.
"Baka pinaiwan nanaman ng mayaman na client, bwisit talaga yun".
"Baka naman nasira na CP nya, sabi kasing wag binubulsa eh."
"Baka naaksidente na sya"
Her thoughts spiraled as quick as the storm then suddenly the lights went flickere but came back and then a loud alarm from the outside filled the town. Tsunami warning.
Now it is double fear, a possible tsunami and to whatever happened to Colet.
The first gusts of wind came around before midnight. The walls shook. The sea was roaring like an angry god.
Maloi sat on the floor, arms wrapped around her knees, whispering, “Ano na ba nangyari sayo Bih.”
She could almost imagine Colet’s laugh — that half-teasing tone she used when Maloi got too dramatic. “Bih, bagyo lang yan, hindi zombie apocalypse.”
Then came a knock.
Soft at first, then louder.
Maloi froze. Who would knock in this storm?
She hesitated, clutching her rosary. "Baka si Mang Tony" The knock came again.
When she opened the door, her eyes widened.
There, soaked to the bone, hair plastered to her face, was Colet — smiling like the storm was her background music.
“Miss me?” she shouted over the wind.
“COLET?!” Maloi shrieked, disbelief painted on her face. “Jusko, baliw ka ba?! Signal No. 5 ‘to!”
“Sabi ko sayo, pag end of the world na, magkasama tayo, diba?” Colet laughed, stepping inside, dripping rainwater onto the wooden floor.
Maloi couldn’t decide whether to scold her or hug her — so she did both.
She smacked her shoulder weakly, then pulled her into the tightest embrace she’d ever given anyone.
"Bwisit ka! Akala ko ano nangyari sayo at hindi ka nag rereply!" Maloi nags.
"Bih, sobrang hilo ko sa 9hrs na byahe, hindi ko talaga kaya magtext. Nagsuka suka nga ako sa bus stop"
“You’re insane,” she whispered, half-laughing, half-sobbing.
“Insanely in love,” Colet whispered back.
The lights flickered once again , then went out completely.
They lit candles — one on the table, one by the window.
The room glowed in golden-orange light, shadows dancing like memories.
They huddled together, wrapped in a thin blanket. Colet handed her a cup of lukewarm instant noodles.
“’Yan muna dinner mo. Don’t say I never cooked for you.”
“Grabe ka, Chef Boy Loglog,” Maloi teased, voice trembling but smiling.
Outside, the wind howled and the waves crashed violently against the shore.
Inside, laughter and whispers drowned out the chaos.
“Bakit ka nga kasi bigla bigla pumunta? Ang layo nito.”
“Alam mo, bih,” Colet murmured, tracing circles on Maloi’s palm. “Natakot din ako nung mga nakaraang bagyo. Pero mas hindi ko pala ka kaya pagdaanan mo toh mag-isa.”
Maloi burst out laughing, tears escaping anyway. “Ikaw talaga, Colet. Baliw ka sa pag-ibig.”
“Oo, baliw. Pero sayo lang.”
They spent the night listening to the storm’s rhythm, whispering little stories — the kind that fill silence better than words ever could.
Maybe the world isn’t what I should be afraid of, Maloi thought. Losing her… that’s the real storm.
When morning came, the air smelled like wet earth and survival.
The storm had passed, leaving chaos in its wake — trees uprooted, roofs bent, mud crawling through the streets. But the sky, oh, the sky — it was glowing gold again.
They stepped outside together, barefoot, hand in hand.
Children were laughing, chasing puddles. People were rebuilding already.
“You really came,” Maloi said softly, looking at Colet like she was sunlight.
“Always,” Colet replied. “Where else would I be?”
Maloi leaned against her, heart finally steady.
In the distance, the sea shimmered like forgiveness.
The storm will pass. The world will go on. But if I ever lose her… that’s the end of everything I care about.
The days after the storm blurred into one long, golden aftertaste of gratitude.
The town smelled of basang lupa and salt, a mixture of ruin and rebirth. Mang Tony’s tricycle was missing one mirror, Nanay Sonya’s sari-sari store lost its roof, and the coconut trees leaned like exhausted soldiers — but everyone was alive.
And somehow, life felt even more beautiful after nearly losing it.
Maloi and Colet spent the next morning helping the neighbors clean up. They swept debris, gathered fallen coconuts, patched walls with makeshift plywood. The locals didn’t ask questions about why Colet suddenly appeared in the middle of the typhoon; they just smiled knowingly, as if love that brave was reason enough.
“Ah, so ito pala yung Colet mo,” Nanay Sonya said, smiling as she handed both of them hot pandesal. “Maganda ka nga iha. Kaya pala inspired si Ineng dito.”
Colet laughed shyly, brushing off the compliment. “Ay naku, baka po si Maloi lang ang may sabing ganyan.”
Maloi nudged her. “Huy, wag kang humble-humble dyan. Alam mong maganda ka.”
Their laughter rose above the hum of rebuilding — small but steady, like light slipping through the cracks of disaster.
At night, when electricity finally returned, they sat by the balcony again — the same spot where months ago, Maloi would wait for a single bar of signal.
Now, she had what she’d been longing for: warmth, skin, presence.
Colet rested her head on Maloi’s shoulder. The ocean stretched before them, calm again.
“Bih,” Maloi whispered, “di ko akalaing magagawa mong pumunta rito.”
“Eh, sabi ko naman sayo, pag end of the world na, magkasama tayo.”
“Pero hindi pa naman end of the world!”
“Oo nga. Pero akala mo lang. Para sa’kin, pag wala ka, parang end na rin.”
Maloi chuckled softly, but her chest tightened in that way only love could cause — the kind of ache that wasn’t pain but fullness. She traced small circles on Colet’s hand, memorizing its warmth.
They fell asleep like that, side by side, the sea singing them to dreams.
The next morning, Maloi woke to the smell of fried tuyo and coffee. Colet was in the kitchen, wearing her oversized Heritage Hotel jacket, hair tied in a messy bun.
“Good morning, Supervisor ng Baler Branch,” Colet teased, plating their breakfast.
“Good morning, Dealer ng Puso ko,” Maloi shot back, grinning.
They laughed, the easy kind — the laughter of two people who’d been through storms, literal and emotional, and somehow found peace in the wreckage.
The following days rolled by like gentle waves.
Colet stayed in Baler longer than she had planned, calling her boss to extend her leave. She said she needed to “recuperate from trauma,” though everyone knew her real reason was standing right in front of her, half-asleep with a mug of coffee.
They started exploring the town together. They walked through the local market where Colet tried pakbet for the first time and pretended to like it. They rode tricycles to Ditumabo Falls, where Maloi dared Colet to swim even though the water was freezing.
“Sige na, bih, try mo! Parang may may yelo yung tubig!"
“Hindi ako tanga!” Colet shouted, laughing as she splashed water back.
They took a picture together under the falls using a disposable Kodak camera. The photo came out blurry, but it didn’t matter — it captured a laugh that no camera could ever fully contain.
They went to visit the oldest Balete Tree in Asia, folks said is more than 400 years old.
Learned more about Aurora history by visiting the Museum and the childhood home of Pres. Manuel L. Quezon.
Tried different varieties of suman and kakanin, fresh seafoods and a lot of buko juice.
Of course, they didn't missed to get surfing lessons.
"Kuya diba La Union ang surfing capital, madami din pala surfers dito? " Colet curiously asked their trainer.
"Areh ay oo naman, kasi birthplace ng philippine surfing ang Baler , nandito ang pinakamatandang surfing club." Kuya Trainer explained.
And pacific ocean waves did not disappoint Maloi and Colet, every successful ride brought them a different sense of fulfillment and challenge.
"Ang sarap pala mag surfing, I can't believe I was so afraid to try it." Maloi while dragging her board back to the starting point .
"Pareho tayo, akala ko madudulas ako o malulunod. Yun pala madali lang sakyan ang alon kapag inenjoy mo sya." Colet added.
"Wow ang lalim naman nun Colet, baka maghanap ka na ng taga Baler ha at ng may balikan ka dito." Maloi teased.
"weh baka ikaw nga ang hndi na bumalik ng Manila eh" she replied while chasing her back to the waves.
"Isa Colet natatalsikan ng tubig yung matabko , mahapdi!" Maloi exclaimed but laughing.
So they danced with the waves until the sun dipped and colored the sky with pastels and glows.
Then before the evening came, Nanay Sonya made them hot cocoa which she made herself while enjoying the ocean view listening to the rhythm of the peaceful vast.
Maloi adjusted herself to make Colet's legs her pillow. Colet instantly played with Maloi's hair and hum with the wind. It's perfect.
"Nakakapagod ang araw na toh Bih pero it seems not enough. Time seems to run fast pag andito ka." Maloi said as she closed her eyes to sleep.
When Colet finally had to go back to Manila, the parting was gentler this time. There were no tears at the terminal, just long hugs and promises that no distance would ever undo what they’d rebuilt.
“Babalik ka agad pag tapos ng assignment mo ha” Colet said, fixing the collar of Maloi’s blouse.
“Oo naman. Sus, ilang buwan na lang.”
“At pag balik mo, may plano na ko.”
“Ano na namang kalokohan ‘yan?”
“Secret.”
“Hmp. Basta wag mo kong isurprise na buntis ka ha,” Maloi teased, laughing.
“Walang ganon, bruha. Pero seryoso, bih. Planado na ‘to. You’ll see.”
They kissed goodbye — soft, lingering, unhurried.
And when Colet boarded the bus, Maloi didn’t cry this time. She waved, smiling, confident. Because now, the promise wasn’t just words; it was proven, lived, tested by storms.
The months that followed were quiet again but different now. The kind of quiet that felt like peace, not loneliness.
Maloi moved through her routines with steadier hands. She earned the trust of the bank staff, learned the quirks of every customer, and even taught the kids in the neighborhood how to master Lvl 9 Snake.
Every evening, she’d sit on the balcony, not to wait for signal anymore, but just to watch the sea. The ocean no longer felt like a border between them. It was a memory — vast, unpredictable, but beautiful.
Their text messages continued, shorter now but more content.
Colet: Bih, naka-balato ulit ako sa mayamang client. Libre ko dinner pag balik mo.
Maloi: Hoy Colet baka in love na sayo yan ha, baka ikaw ang maging jackpot.
Colet: Jackpot na ako, sayo pa lang.
Sometimes, Maloi would blush at her phone like a teenager. The neighbors teased her about it, and she didn’t care.
Sometimes , when there is now word to express , they would'nt miss to send anything that means I remember you today, or I miss you so much.
Colet: ＼(^o^)／
[Sent]
Maloi: (｡♡‿♡｡)
[Sent]
Then, at long last, the year came full circle.
Seven months after that terrifying night, her one-year immersion was complete. The branch hosted a small send-off party. There was pansit, lechon kawali, and cheap brandy that burned her throat. Mang Tony gave a short speech about how proud they were of her.
“Ineng,” he said, holding back tears, “salamat sa pagiging mabait mo sa mga taga-Baler. Sana wag mo kaming kalimutan.”
“Hindi po,” she replied, voice soft but sure. “Hindi ko makakalimutan ang lugar na ‘to. Dito ko natutong hindi matakot.”
The next morning, she packed her things.
The apartment felt lighter somehow — no longer haunted by silence. She took one last look at the balcony, touched the wooden railing where she had cried so many nights, and whispered, “Thank you.”
When her bus arrived in Manila, the air was heavy and warm, full of city noise and exhaust — familiar, overwhelming, alive.
She stepped off the bus at Cubao terminal, blinking against the sunlight. Then she saw her.
Colet.
Standing near the waiting area, holding a piece of cardboard that read:
“WELCOME BACK, SUPERVISOR NG BUHAY KO!”
Maloi froze for half a second, then burst out laughing.
“Ang corny mo talaga,” she said, running straight into her arms.
They hugged for a long time, the kind of hug that melts months of separation into one heartbeat.
Colet smelled the same — lavender lotion and a hint of cigarette smoke. Her eyes shone.
“Welcome home, bih.”
“I missed you every day.”
“Alam ko,” Colet smiled. “Ramdam ko. Parang may signal pa rin kahit wala.”
They both laughed, the kind of laugh that comes only from relief — the joy of surviving distance, storms, and fear.
That night, back in their small apartment in Pasay, Maloi looked around. Nothing much had changed — the same faded curtains, the same table with one broken leg, the same tiny shelf filled with mugs. But it felt new somehow, like the first chapter of something brighter.
“So, ano daw ‘yung plano mo?” she asked, stretching on the couch.
“Ah yun ba" Colet grinned, pulling something from her bag — two keychains shaped like tiny surfboards.
“Yan na ‘yun?!”
“Oo. hahaha. yan yung binili natin sa palengke ng Baler".
Maloi was confused, eyes softening. "Grabe, sobra kong excited umuwi para sa surprise mo, tapos ito lang pala"
She took the keychain and found 1 unfamiliar key hanging from the blindside.
"ano toh?" she asked
"susi ng bagong condo" Colet said grinning
"HA totoo???" Maloi exclaimed has mixed feelings now
"Napromote na din akong manager sa Casino, hindi na ako dealer" Colet still grinning
"Surprise ?" she added while spreading her arms inviting her girlfriend in a hug.
Maloi was still, can't process the information she just got.
"pero may kundisyon kasi para makalipat tayo dyan" Colet now pouting, but grabs Maloi by the arm into a hug.
"Ano naman yan?" Maloi smiled
"Pumapayag ka ba muna na housemate ko forever? "
"Are you asking me to be with you forever Miss Vergara?"
"that one year without you is hell for me Maloi" Colet said
"Let's promise to be always together okay?" she asked
“Tanga ka talaga. Paano ba ako hihindi sayo.” Maloi said as she kiss her girlfriend
“oo na, tanga kasi sa’yo.”
"I love you Bih" Maloi as she close the gap on their faces once again.
They both laughed from months worth of stories and updates, collapsing onto the couch together. The window rattled faintly from a light drizzle outside. Somehow, it felt like they are starting again.
Later, as they lay side by side in bed, Colet’s head resting on her chest, Maloi whispered into the dark:
“You know, I used to be so scared of the world ending.”
“Bakit?”
“Kasi feeling ko, pag nawala lahat, wala na ring magmamahal sakin.”
“Eh ngayon?”
“Ngayon, kahit mag-end pa lahat, okay lang. Kasi nahanap ko na yung simula ko.”
Colet looked up, eyes shining in the dim light. “Sweet mo talaga, bih. Para kang instant coffee — bitter pero comforting.”
“Hoy!” Maloi laughed, smacking her lightly.
Then they both fell quiet, smiling into the silence.
The city hummed — jeepneys roaring, vendors calling, rain tapping gently against the roof. Inside, their world was small but whole.
Maloi realized then that the end of the world wasn’t something that happened in fire or flood or darkness.
It was something that happened when love was lost.
And as long as Colet was by her side, the world — their world — would keep spinning, glowing gold at every sunrise.
Maybe the world isn’t what I should be afraid of.
Losing her — that’s the only storm I can’t survive.
The next morning Colet woke up early and walked to the closet behind the bedroom door. Took something out from a small box, and walk back to sleeping Maloi.
Colet pressed a soft kiss to her forehead—light, but just enough to wake her.
Maloi stirred, feeling something cold on her finger. She lifted her hand toward the morning sun. The diamond ring caught the light, scattering it across her face. She smiled.
“Say it, Vergara. Ask me na. I’ve been waiting too long.”
“Kelangan pa ba?” Colet murmured, brushing gentle kisses along her cheeks.
“Eh, suot mo na,” she added with a grin.
“I still want to hear it, please love,” Maloi whispered.
Colet lay down beside her, shifting closer until she could wrap her arms around Maloi’s waist.
She held her, breathing her in, heart full.
“I love you, Maloi,” she said softly.
“Marry me na.”
End.