Chapter: A Temporary Home
(Keif's POV)
The plane landed with a soft thud, and I barely noticed it. My mind was elsewhere, a storm I couldn't calm. Jay… Jay had left. Her anger, her tears, her hands slapping mine—all of it replayed over and over. Every word she had shouted, every look she had given me, burned like fire across my chest.
We arrived at the airport in Manila, the heat thick, sticky, almost suffocating, but I didn't care. I barely felt it. Kuya Angelo was waiting at the arrivals gate, his face calm but knowing, like he could read every thought I refused to speak aloud.
"Keif," he said gently as I stepped off the plane, "you need to come with me. Stay at my house for a few days. Rest. Clear your head. You're… broken."
Broken. That word struck harder than anything Jay had said. He was right. I was broken. But broken doesn't mean helpless. It doesn't mean I stop feeling. It just meant that the weight of everything—the lies, the plans, the love I had tried to keep buried—was crushing me.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My throat felt thick. My hands itched to grab my phone, to call her, to scream at her… to beg her… but I didn't. I couldn't.
Kuya Angelo led me through the airport, through the waiting cars, and I let him drive. Manila blurred past the windows. The city was alive, chaotic, full of people laughing, talking, running—but none of it touched me. None of it mattered.
"Keif," he said again, his voice gentle but firm. "You don't have to carry everything by yourself. You're not alone."
I looked at him, my jaw tight. "I… I can't stop thinking about her. I keep replaying everything. And it's my fault. I—"
"No," Angelo interrupted calmly. "You did what you thought was right at that time. You can't undo what happened, but you can take care of yourself now. You need a safe space to breathe."
Safe space. The idea sounded foreign. I hadn't had a safe space in months. Not with Jay gone. Not with my guilt gnawing at me every second. But maybe… maybe here with him, I could.
The drive ended at his house. The walls were warm and quiet, a stark contrast to the storm raging in my mind. Angelo led me inside, offering me a smile that felt heavier than comfort—more like responsibility, like he expected me to survive.
"You'll stay here for a few days," he said. "Rest, eat, sleep. Then we'll talk. You can figure things out. But for now… breathe, Keif."
I nodded again. My heart felt heavy, but somehow, being here—away from the chaos of Jay's presence, away from the reminders of her face, her anger, her love—felt like the smallest relief I'd had in weeks.
I walked to the guest room he had prepared for me, each step slow. I set my bag down, unzipped it, and sank onto the bed. The sheets were soft, the room quiet, almost painfully quiet. I wanted noise, I wanted distraction, but the silence pressed against me like a weight.
I buried my face in my hands. I thought about her—Jay—and the way she had trusted me, loved me, screamed at me. The way I had let her down. The thought burned through me.
And yet… sitting here, in Angelo's house, I allowed myself to feel it. The guilt, the sorrow, the longing. For the first time in days, I let it exist without pushing it away.
Because for now, surviving was enough.
And maybe, just maybe… being here, in this quiet, I could start figuring out how to fix what I had broken.