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New York felt louder than usual, or maybe Lea was trying too hard to drown everything else out. Her voice carried easily as she walked ahead, steady and practiced, slipping into the role she knew best.
“On your right, you’ll see—”
“Ang VIP ko naman, ako lang ba ang nasa tour mo?” she heard behind her. She didn’t turn around.
“Professionalism, Aga.” There was a small pause, followed by a quiet, almost amused exhale. “Right. Ganun na lang ako sa’yo.” She kept walking. Because answering that would mean naming whatever it was between them—and they had spent so long avoiding exactly that.
They ended up by the river, where the noise of the city softened just enough to let things settle—and break. “I got it.” He didn’t need to ask what she meant. “West End.” She nodded. For a second, something like pride flashed across his face. Then it shifted, quick and instinctive, into something more familiar. “Then we’ll go. I mean—kung saan ka, doon ako—”
“No.” It came out too fast. Too sharp. Even she felt it. Silence stretched between them, unfamiliar in a way that made her chest tighten. They had never been this kind of quiet—not like this.
“Aga…” she softened her voice, like she could ease the damage if she said it gently enough. “You deserve someone better.”
He let out a small laugh, confused, like he was trying to make sense of something that didn’t quite fit. “Better than what? Wala naman tayong—” He stopped himself. Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? There was no label. No claim. Nothing to point to and say, this is what we are. And yet, it had never felt like nothing.
“You are that someone, Lea.” His voice steadied, more certain than she felt. “You will be.” Something in her chest tightened at that—not because she didn’t want to believe him, but because she didn’t know how to. She kept her eyes fixed somewhere past him. “But I don’t want to be better for you…”
The words sounded right. Too right. Like something rehearsed, something safe. But they weren’t the truth. She just didn’t know how. And lately, every time he adjusted himself around her—matching her pace, waiting for her, choosing her without hesitation—it felt less like something she could hold onto and more like something pressing in on her, something she couldn’t quite breathe through.
“Then who?” It slipped out of him before he could stop it. Lea didn’t answer. She couldn’t—the universe could collapse a thousand times, yet she’d only orbit him. There was no version of the truth that wouldn’t hurt him. No word that would make this easier. So instead, she chose the only thing that created distance without needing explanation. “You deserve better.” This time, her voice was softer. Quieter. Almost like she was trying to convince herself.
Aga nodded—just once, like he understood something she never actually said. “Okay.” And that was it. No fight. No goodbye. No ending they could name. Just him stepping back, as if he had finally found the boundary she never had the courage to draw—and her letting him.
Later, she would tell herself it was necessary. That she needed space. That she chose herself. But as she stood there, watching him disappear into a city that didn’t know them, one thing became painfully clear—she hadn’t pushed him away because she didn’t want him. She pushed him away because she didn’t know how to keep him without losing herself. And now—she didn’t have either.