Pain was a peculiar thing. It had this uncanny ability to weave itself into the very fabric of my being, shaping me in ways I never thought possible. I used to believe that pain was merely a temporary sensation, something that would eventually fade away with time. But oh, how wrong I was.

And betrayal? Now, there was a concept that cut deeper than any physical pain ever could. It was a betrayal that shook me to my core, leaving me questioning everything I once held dear. Trust shattered like glass, leaving behind nothing but a jagged mess of broken promises and shattered dreams.

I remembered the moment it happened as vividly as if it were yesterday. The sting of betrayal hit me like a freight train, knocking the wind right out of my sails. How could someone I loved and trusted with every fiber of my being turn his back on me so callously?

The wounds he had inflicted ran deep, leaving scars that would never fully heal. I tried to bury the pain, to push it down deep inside where no one could see. But try as I might, it always found a way to resurface.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months after he left, I felt myself changing. The person I once was seemed like a distant memory, replaced by someone hollow and broken. Gone were the laughter and joy that once filled my days, replaced by a cold emptiness that seemed to consume me from the inside out.

I became guarded, hesitant to let anyone too close for fear of being hurt again. Trust, once freely given, now seemed like a luxury I could ill afford. I built walls around my heart, walls so high and thick that even I struggled to tear them down.

But perhaps the most insidious part of betrayal was the way it robbed me of hope. It was hard to believe in the goodness of others when someone I loved and trusted had proven themselves unworthy. And so, I found myself drifting further and further into the darkness, losing myself in a haze of pain and bitterness.

They say that time heals all wounds, but I wasn't so sure.

Muli kong itinaas ang aking kamay upang kunin ang atensyon ng bartender na nasa iilang customer pa ang atensyon. It had become a familiar gesture over the past four hours, each order serving as a futile attempt to drown out the pain that gnawed at my insides. Pakiramdam ko ay kulang, kahit isang drum pa siguro ang ubusin ko ngayon ay kulang pa rin. Two bottles of Dom Perignon had already been emptied, their contents doing little to numb the ache in my heart.

"Gago! Sobrang gago!" Galit na galit ko pa ring bulong, kinakausap ang walang kamalay-malay na bote ng champagne sa aking harapan.

Tumuwid ako ng upo nang lapitan na ako ng bartender. Alam kong kahit inumin ko pa ang lahat ng alak na naka-display sa likuran nito ay hindi ako mapapahamak sa lugar na ito. My cousin, Rance, owned this place. Kilala ako ng mga tauhan niya dito, kahit pa mawalan ako ng malay ay tiyak kong hindi ako mapapahamak.

I plastered on a fake smile, the kind that barely concealed the turmoil raging within. "Another bottle, please,"

He nodded silently, pouring the champagne with practiced efficiency. I watched the bubbles rise to the surface, a fleeting distraction from the chaos in my mind.

"You've been here for hours," a voice beside me remarked, pulling me from my thoughts. I knew that voice, but I had far too much alcohol tonight to doubt if my mind was playing a trick on me. There was no way he could be here.

Baka dahil lang sa sobrang pag-iisip ko sa kaniya kaya pakiramdam ko ay narito siya sa tabi ko ngayon. Either way, I couldn't bring myself to turn and confirm the truth.

"Yeah, well, time flies when you're drowning your sorrows," I replied bitterly, taking a sip of the champagne. It tasted like regret and broken promises, but I welcomed the burn as it slid down my throat.

Gusto kong matawa kung siya nga ang katabi ko ngayon. Siguro ay matatawa rin siya sa itsura ko. I knew I looked as broken as I felt.

"What happened?" Buong-buo ang tinig niya, walang emosyon na mababakas doon. It was as though he just asked for the weather.

I chuckled mirthlessly, the sound ringing hollow. "What didn't happen?"

As if on cue, he raised his hand, catching the bartender's attention. "Scotch neat," he ordered, his voice confident and sure. I inhaled sharply, shaking my head in disbelief. It couldn't be him. The man sitting beside me smelled expensive. The man I had in mind was everything but that.

But then again, what did I know? It had been seven long years since I last saw him, since he walked away without a second glance, leaving me to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart.

The bartender returned with his drink, placing it in front of him. Hindi ko pa rin magawang lingunin ang lalaking nakaupo sa aking tabi, nanatili akong tahimik na sumisimsim ng aking inumin.

As I lifted the delicate flute to my lips, a surge of frustration washed over me. What was I doing? I tossed the flute aside, reaching for the bottle itself. Uubusin ko rin naman ang lahat ng ito.

The man beside me spoke again, his voice cutting through the haze of my thoughts. "You might want to go easy on the drinking,"

I scoffed. "Easy on the drinking?" I retorted, the words dripping with sarcasm. "What do you care?"

"Just looking out for you," he replied, his voice tinged with resignation. "Wouldn't want you to wake up with a shitty hangover tomorrow."

Mukha bang umiinom ako ng iniintindi ang kagigisingan ko bukas ng umaga?

I rolled my eyes, dismissing his warning with a careless wave of my hand. "Hangover be damned,"

What did it matter if I woke up with a headache tomorrow? It would be nothing compared to the ache in my heart that lingered day after day.

I took another swig from the bottle, bitterness coating my tongue as I thought bitterly about how alcohol was supposed to make you forget, but it only seemed to make me remember everything with painful clarity. Mula sa simula hanggang sa dulo, nag-uunahan silang bumalik sa aking ala-ala na parang kahapon lang nangyari ang lahat.

"You were always stubborn, Caice," muling sabi ng aking katabi.

Sandali akong natigilan. My heart skipped a beat at the mention of my name. He knew me. But how?

Hindi.

Imposibleng siya.

No.

I closed my eyes, steeling myself before I turned to face him. My heart pounded in my chest as I braced myself for what I might see. And then, with a slow, hesitant movement, I opened my eyes. Just like that, gusto ko na lang pumikit ulit at baka sakaling mawala siya sa aking harapan.

My breath caught in my throat at the sight before me. It couldn't be real, could it? Hindi puwedeng narito siya, imposible. He was sitting beside me as though he belonged there, talking to me like he hadn't shattered my world seven long years ago.

His face was as familiar to me as my own, every line and contour etched into my memory with painful precision. His reddish-brown was tousled in a way that made my heart ache with longing, strands falling across his forehead in a way that was achingly familiar.

But it was his eyes that held me captive, those warm brown eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

I gasped ever so slightly, my breath catching in my throat at the intensity of his gaze. He couldn't be real, could he? I must have had far too many drinks tonight to see him so vividly, to feel the weight of his presence beside me.

"Hans," I whispered, the name falling from my lips like a prayer. But even as I spoke it, I knew it was futile. He was just a figment of my imagination, a ghost from the past coming back to haunt me in my darkest hour.

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over me, leaving me feeling unsteady on my feet. Sinubukan kong tumayo para sana pumunta sa restroom para hamigin ang aking sarili at ng hindi kung anu-ano ang nakikita ko. But I struggled to stand, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. Marami na nga talaga akong nainom.

And before I could fall, Hans was there, his strong arms wrapping around me to steady me.

I recoiled at his touch, the familiarity of it sending shivers down my spine. Totoo. Totoong narito siya. Totoong siya ang kausap ko. Totoong siya ang tumabi sa akin.

"Let go," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't need your help."

Mabilis at tila napapaso akong lumayo sa kaniya. Anong ginagawa niya dito? Bakit niya ako nilapitan?

He sighed, his expression pained as he reluctantly released me. "I'm just trying to help, Caice,"

To help me is to not leave me.

Biglang nanikip ang aking dibdib sa labis na kapaitan na aking nararamdaman. I stumbled back, putting distance between us as I struggled to regain my composure. Lahat ng galit na tinanim ko para sa kaniya, para sa lahat ng ginawa niya sa akin, nag-uunahan at nagsiksikan sa aking dibdib. Wala akong mapaglagyan.

"I don't need your help," muling sabi ko, mas mariin ngayon. "I can take care of myself."

Kahit na ako mismo ay hindi iyon mapaniwalaan, sinabi ko pa rin. He didn't need to know I was falling apart. He didn't need to know that it was still because of him.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "I know you can," he said quietly. "But let me drive you home, at least."

Home? I didn't even know what home was for me.

I shook my head, the thought of being alone with him too much to bear. Hindi ko siya kailangan. Hindi na.

"Kaya kong umuwi mag-isa," I insisted, my voice trembling with the effort to keep my emotions in check.

But even as I spoke the words, I knew they were futile. Hans was as real as the pain in my heart, and there was no escaping him now. Narito siya sa harapan ko, totoo at tunay.

He sighed again, reaching into his wallet to withdraw a card. "For both our drinks," he said as he handed the card to the bartender.

Mabilis kong hinalungkat ang purse ko, hinahagilap ang card holder ko, but damn! Kung kailan ko kailangan ay hindi ko iyon makapa. I must've been really drunk na ultimo iyon ay naging pagsubok para sa akin.

I groaned inwardly when I failed to produce one, nanatiling nakatingin sa akin ang bartender, naghihintay ng desisyon ko. "Charge it to Rance."

That was the easiest escape I had. Hindi ko na hinintay pa ang sagot nito. With that, I turned my back on Hans and walked away, unable and unwilling to be alone with him for another second.

But even as I walked, I could feel his gaze burning into my back. Kahit nahihilo ako ay pilit kong pinanlabanan, sumiksik talaga ako sa dagat ng mga tao na nasa dance floor. Wala na akong pakialam , gusto ko lang makaalis na. Makalayo.

He followed me, his footsteps echoing in the empty spaces of my heart. Sa takot na maabutan ay mas binilisan ko pa ang aking pagkilos.

I squeezed myself into the sea of bodies, ignoring the protests and the occasional shove as I made my way towards the exit. I pushed through the crowd. I was so focused on escaping that I didn't see the car until it was too late.

The impact sent me sprawling, the world spinning as I tumbled to the ground. Pain shot through me like a bolt of lightning, every nerve in my body screaming in agony as I lay there, stunned and disoriented.

Shit.

"Caice! Fuck."

Through the haze of pain and confusion, I could hear someone shouting my name. It sounded distant, as though it were coming from a far-off place. But even in my dazed state, I knew that voice—it was Hans.

He rushed to my side, his hands gentle as he lifted me from the ground. "Caice," he whispered, his voice thick with worry. "Baby, are you okay?"

I tried to respond, but my voice caught in my throat, choked by the pain radiating through my body. I clung to consciousness by a thread, fighting to stay awake.

Hans's face swam into view, his features blurred and indistinct against the backdrop of the night. I reached out to him, grasping desperately for his hand as everything faded to black.

My head pounded with a ferocity that matched the chaos swirling inside my mind as I slowly regained consciousness. Sinubukan kong buksan ang aking mga mata kahit pa labis ang nararamdaman kong pagkahilo. Pumipintig rin ang aking sentido. I struggled to make sense of my surroundings.

Napadaing ako nang makaramdam ng kirot sa aking mga braso, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain in my head. Parang gustong sumabog ng ulo ko sa sakit. I blinked against the harsh light filtering through the room, kahit anong pilit kong kilalanin at tukuyin ang silid na kinaroroonan ko ay hindi ito pamilyar sa akin.

Panic surged through me. Where was I? How had I ended up here?

I racked my brain, trying to recall anything that had happened before I passed out, but my memories were hazy and fragmented, like shards of glass scattered across my mind. There were flashes of Hans's face, the sound of his voice calling out to me in desperation, but everything else was a blur.

Hans.

Gusto ko na lang matawa dahil hanggang ngayon ay pinaglalaruan pa rin ako ng sarili kong pag-iisip. Paulit-ulit pa rin siyang bumabalik sa aking alaala, gustuhin ko man siyang isipin o hindi.

With a groan, I pushed myself up from the mattress, wincing as pain shot through my arms. I glanced around the room, searching for any clues that might jog my memory, but there was nothing—just bare walls and an empty silence.

What had happened after I got in the bar? How had I ended up here, in this strange room with no recollection of how I got here?

What had happened after I left the bar? How had I ended up here, in this strange room with no recollection of how I got here?

I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling as I scrolled through my messages and call history, hoping to find some clue as to what had transpired. But there was nothing—no missed calls, no text messages, nothing to shed light on the events of the previous night.

Desperation gnawed at the edges of my mind as I fought to make sense of the situation. Had something happened to me? Had I been drugged, abducted, or worse?

I forced myself to take deep, steadying breaths, pushing back the rising tide of panic. With trembling hands, I slid my phone back into my pocket, frustration and fear bubbling up inside me. The room felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on me, urging me to escape.

Imbes kung ano pa ang isipin ay tuluyan na akong bumangon sa kama. As I stepped into the hallway, I took in my surroundings with growing confusion. This was no ordinary house—I was standing in a massive loft space, furnished with sleek black and white decor and polished wooden floors.

The air was heavy with the scent of expensive cologne, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was intruding on someone else's space. Everything about the place screamed masculinity, from the minimalist furniture to the carefully curated artwork adorning the walls.

I forced myself to focus, pushing aside the unsettling feeling that crept up my spine as I made my way downstairs. With each step, I felt a sense of dread wash over me, the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong refusing to be silenced.

Nang marating ko ang huling baitang ay agad kong naamoy ang nilulutong pancake. Sinundan ko ang pinagmumulan nu'n at dinala ako ng aking mga paa sa kusina. I pushed open the screen door to reveal a scene straight out of my worst nightmares.

There, standing at the stove with his back to me, was Hans.

I froze in place, my heart pounding in my chest, parang mas lumala ang pagkahilo na kanina ko pa nararamdaman. Narito siya. It couldn't be real, could it? Hans wasn't just a dream or a figment of my imagination—he was here, in the flesh, cooking breakfast as though seven years hadn't passed between us.

Marahil ay naramdaman niya ang aking presensya kaya nilingon niya ako ng bahagya, agad rin namang itinutok ang mga mata sa niluluto.

"Good morning," sabi niya sa pormal na tinig. "I hope you're hungry."

Kumakalam na ang sikmura ko dahil ang huling kinain ko ay lunch pa kahapon. But hunger was the last thing I had in mind. I stared at him, unable to find the words to express what I was feeling. Part of me wanted to run, to flee from this surreal nightmare and never look back. But another part—the part that still held on to the hope of redemption—urged me to stay. Pero para ano? Para saktan ang sarili ko ng paulit-ulit?

I watched in silence as Hans turned off the stove and expertly transferred the pancake onto a plate. He placed it on the counter, along with an array of syrups that seemed to mock me with their abundance of choice. Naalala ko dati, wala akong ibang alam kainin sa breakfast kundi pancake. Paiba-iba pa ang gusto kong syrup, depende sa mood ko, kaya sinisigurado ni Mommy na palaging kumpleto ang stock namin sa kusina. And I also remembered Hans commenting about that behavior of mine, pang mayaman. Ngayon na kumpleto na rin siya ng mga ito, ibig sabihin ba'y mayaman na rin siya? Iyon ba ang dahilan bakit prinisinta niya sa akin ang lahat ng ito ngayon?

Wealth never impressed me then, lalo ngayon.

Hans turned to me, his expression soft as he gestured towards the pancakes. "Please, sit. I made breakfast for us."

Nakikita ko naman, hindi niya na kailangan sabihin. Galit ko lang siyang pinagmasdan, hindi pa rin ako kumilos mula sa aking kinatatayuan.

Hans poured syrup over the pancake on his plate, tapos ay sinulyapan niya ako na para bang hinihintay na sabihin sa kaniya kung anong syrup ang gusto ko. There were too many syrups to choose from—maple, blueberry, strawberry—and when I didn't say a word, Hans took it upon himself to choose maple for me.

Sa tingin niya ba kakainin ko 'yan? Ubusin niya ang lahat ng 'yan.

"Eat," malumanay niyang sabi. "You'll feel better after you've had something to eat."

Pinapagalitan na ako ng aking sikmura, gustong gusto na nitong kumain. But I refused to sit kahit pa ipinaghila niya na ako ng upuan. Sinalubong ko lang ang mga tingin na ibinibigay niya sa akin. "What happened last night?"

Wala talaga akong maalala. Ni hindi ko nga maalalang naroon siya kagabi.

"A doctor came by to check on you," tahimik niyang sabi, hindi pa rin siya kumakain na para bang hinihintay niya akong sabayan siya. "You had some minor bruises, but nothing serious. No broken bones."

I blinked in surprise, trying to piece together the events of the previous night. "But how did I end up here?"

Hans hesitated, his gaze flickering away from mine for a brief moment. "I found you at the bar. You were drunk, and you tried so hard to get away from me," sandali siyang natigilan at kung hindi ako nagkakamali ay nakita ko ang sakit na gumuhit sa kaniyang mga mata. Para saan naman iyon? Para kanino naman siya nagpapanggap? Kaming dalawa lang naman ang narito. Puwede naman siyang magpakatotoo na lang. "You were unconscious, and I couldn't just leave you there."

"You brought me here instead? Bakit hindi na lang sa ospital kung ganoon nga?" Matalim kong sabi. Masakit ang buong katawan ko pero mamamatay muna ako bago ko gustuhing manatili pa sa harap ni Hans.

"I didn't have a choice," His jaw clenched at my sharp tone, his gaze hardening as he met my eyes. "I couldn't just bring you to the hospital and risk causing another scandal."

I scoffed, bitterness lacing my words. "Hindi ka na sana natakot pang dagdagan, sanay na sanay na ako."

My life was already a tabloid headline, thanks to all the mess that fell upon me since Hans. At ngayon naman ay walang ibang mapag-usapan ang mga tao kundi ang pagkakadawit ko kay Silas DiLaurentis. I had an affair with a married man, and his wife had broadcasted it to the world. Masamang tao ba ako? Marahil. But did I care? Not one bit.

"Where are we, anyway?" Mabilis kong tanong bago pa siya makahanap ng sasabihin.

"We're at my loft," he said quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I brought you here last night after I found you outside the bar."

I clenched my jaw, anger bubbling up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt. "Great," I muttered, my sarcasm biting. "Just what I needed, to be trapped in your lair."

Inirapan ko siya matapos ay tinalikuran, lumabas ako ng kusina. Naramdaman kong mabilis siyang nakasunod sa akin at tuluyan nang inabandona sa counter ang almusal na inihanda niya.

The loft stretched before me, every corner meticulously curated with sleek, stylish furnishings. Clearly, Hans had made something for himself since the last time I saw him.

I couldn't help but feel a pang of bitterness as I took in the sight. Muli ko siyang nalingon, nakatingin lang rin siya sa akin. Nakakainis lang dahil bakit ba kung tignan niya ako'y parang ako ang nanakit sa aming dalawa. Parang ako ang sumira sa isa. It wasn't fair!

"Impressive," I said, my words dripping with sarcasm. "Did you do all this yourself, or did your cougars lend a hand?"

Hans's expression remained impassive, his silence a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside me. He didn't say anything. Alam ko rin naman na hindi niya ako papatulan.

I pressed on, unable to stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth like daggers. "May bago na ba? Kapalit nu'ng huli? Or are you still playing the grieving widower?"

I could see the hurt flicker in Hans's eyes, but I pushed the guilt aside, reveling in the satisfaction of inflicting my own brand of pain.

Dapat lang 'yan sa kaniya.

Patuloy kong kumbinsi sa aking sarili. Hindi ko naman kasi ugaling manakit ng tao, sa salita man o sa gawa. But then, pain really changes people. Dahil nasaktan ako, gusto ko na lang rin manakit sa lahat ng paraan na puwede, sa lahat ng paraang kaya ko.

Hans sighed, halata sa itsura niyang hindi niya ako papatulan sa ganito ko. Ganyan naman siya kahit noon pa, kapag nagagalit ako'y hinahayaan niya lang akong magalit sa kaniya kahit pa minsan ay sobra na.

"Caice, please," mahinahon niyang sabi. "Cynthia was a good person. She didn't deserve—"

I cut him off with a sharp gesture, my laughter cutting through the air like a knife. Wala akong sinabi kahit pa sa loob loob ko ay sumisigaw na ako sa kaniya.

Deserve?

Anong karapatan niyang gamitin sa akin ang salitang 'yan? He wanted to talk about what people deserve, huh? What about what I deserved? Did I deserve to be dragged into their mess, to be used and discarded like some disposable pawn?

I squared my shoulders, steeling myself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. I refused to let Hans see how deeply his words cut, how they reopened wounds that had barely begun to heal.

"I need the complete address," I said firmly, my tone brooking no argument. "So I can book a ride and get out of here."

Hans sighed, his frustration evident as he fished out his phone. "Fine," he muttered, his fingers flying across the screen as he pulled up something from it. "I'll call your brother to pick you up if you don't want me to drive you home."

I clenched my jaw, the sting of his words driving home the reality of our fractured past.

"Just give me the damn address." I snapped, mas sumungit pa ang tinig ko kesa sa kanina.

He sighed again, his patience wearing thin as he pointed towards the couch. "Sit tight," he said, his tone firm. "Susunduin ka dito ni Icen, hindi kita hahayaang umalis mag-isa."

Kung magsalita siya ay parang hindi niya naman ako iniwang mag-isa noon. What changed now?

I bristled at his condescending tone but bit back the retort that threatened to spill from my lips. I knew that arguing with him would only prolong the inevitable, and I was already weary of this.

Reluctantly, I sank down onto the couch, my muscles tense with the effort of holding back the flood of emotions. Hans disappeared into the other room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the suffocating weight of regret.

Kung sana hinayaan ko na lang si Hans noon.

Kung sana hindi na lang ako nakipaglapit sa kaniya.

Kung sana hindi ko naranasan na mahalin siya at "mahalin" niya.

But no, I let him in. I opened my heart to him, foolishly believing that love would conquer all. How naive I was, to think that I could change the course of fate with a simple act of affection.

And yet, despite my best intentions, I fell for him. Hard and fast, with a reckless abandon that left me vulnerable to the storm that would inevitably follow. I gave him everything—my trust, my loyalty, my very soul—only to have it all ripped away in an instant.