CHAPTER 2 THE BEGINNING

Hannah’s Perspective

Yesterday was, without a doubt, the most reckless mistake of my twenty-three years. Waking up in that unfamiliar hotel room left me so thoroughly shaken that I made a fierce, desperate vow to myself: I will never let alcohol or emotion strip away my control like that again. I refuse to let my heart drag me back down to that pathetic state, especially not over someone like Billy. From this exact moment forward, I am drawing a line in the sand. I am determined to outrun these moments of absolute weakness.

By eight o’clock in the evening, the quiet routine of my life had resumed. I had just finished a solitary dinner and was curled up on the living room sofa with N*****x playing in the background—my standard ritual for unwinding when I wasn't buried under piles of fabric and design sketches. A gentle, cool breeze drifted in from the open balcony, whispering through the apartment. Yet, despite the cozy comfort of my home and the objective success of my career, a heavy wave of loneliness settled over me. On paper, I had achieved everything a twenty-three-year-old could want: a beautiful condo, a stable executive job, and a life entirely self-made. As an only child, my parents had given me every material advantage, yet looking around the empty room, it felt like a vital piece of my soul was entirely missing.

I was just turning down the sheets to get ready for bed when the sudden vibration of my phone shattered the silence. Very few people possessed this private number, so I snatched it off the nightstand immediately.

The text message on the screen read:

"Hey there! How are you feeling today? It seems you disappeared pretty quickly this morning. 😉 I just wanted to check in on you. It was an intense night, and I would love to see you again soon. Much love, Baby."

Ally’s Perspective

The events of last night were completely uncharted territory for me, but there was an undeniable, electric spark between us that I couldn't shake. Thankfully, before Hannah bolted from the room like a ghost, I had the foresight to save her number directly from her phone.

I had gone out to that crowded club with a singular purpose: to drown out the noise in my own head. The suffocating pressure from my father regarding an arranged marriage had become too heavy to breathe under. It was deeply frustrating, almost comical, that such archaic, traditional expectations still carried so much weight here in the modern Philippines.

But the moment I met Hannah, her quick wit and effortless charm became the perfect antidote to my reality. She made the crushing stress evaporate. She was utterly captivating, and for the first time in years, I had felt a genuine, unforced connection that made the rest of the chaotic world fade into the background. There was a magnetic smoothness to our interactions—an ease that lingered in my mind long after she vanished.

Hannah’s Perspective

I stared at the glowing screen in sheer disbelief. Cold panic flared in my chest. How on earth did she get my private number?

While the exact sequence of last night remained a hazy, fragmented blur, I vividly remembered the crushing emotional weight I had been carrying before I blacked out. I had been spiraling, entirely undone because my best friend had broken yet another sacred promise. It was the recurring theme of my life: whenever things were going well in Billy’s world, I ceased to exist, but the very second her life fell apart, she expected me to be her emotional garbage can. I constantly wanted to scream at her to leave me alone, yet I always allowed myself to be caught right back in her orbit.

A unsettling thought crossed my mind. Had the girl from the bar gone through my phone while I lay passed out on the bar counter or in the hotel bed? I couldn't entirely blame her curiosity, but the sheer forwardness of her text made my guard go up. I wasn't looking for a casual fling, let alone a real relationship. People today seemed so eager to casually explore, experiment, and play with fire, and while I didn't judge them, I simply wasn't in a psychological space to handle any form of romantic entanglement.

Yet, why was this stupid text bothering me so much? Was I genuinely unnerved by this mysterious new girl, or was I just secretly terrified of what Billy would do if she ever found out?

"It's just a text message," I whispered aloud into the dark room, trying to force logic into my racing mind. "It doesn't have to mean a relationship. Maybe... maybe this is the universe giving me a chance to finally move on. A chance to stop letting Billy occupy every single corner of my mind."

It felt like a hidden, long-suppressed side of me was suddenly fighting for a taste of freedom. I was completely single, after all. Yet, for years, I had trapped myself in a voluntary prison of one-sided devotion to a girl who treated our history like a footnote.

As the silence of the night stretched on, vivid sensory memories of the hotel room began to surface—the crisp, clean scent of the sheets, and the intoxicating feeling of a mutual, reciprocal desire. It was vastly different from my frantic encounters with Billy. It had felt balanced. Equal. With Billy, everything was always a rushed, desperate secret dictated entirely by her chaotic needs, leaving me feeling used and utterly hollowed out.

My phone buzzed again, breaking the trance.

"Are you there? Not going to reply?"

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. What could I even say to her? This web felt far from simple. Before I could formulate a thought, another message flashed on the screen:

"We will see each other again sooner or later, Hannah. Next time, let’s make sure we can both appreciate the moment fully. You're incredibly hard to stay away from. 😉"

I genuinely debated whether to block the number or just buy a completely new SIM card tomorrow to erase the complication entirely. Why was I letting Billy’s ghost dictate my life? She certainly didn't prioritize my feelings when she discarded our anniversary plans for some guy.

As I finally climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up, a loud, jarring Messenger ringtone shattered the quiet. Billy’s name flashed across the screen in bold letters.

I stared at her smiling profile picture, my heart hardening. I decided to let it ring. I was completely exhausted by her predictable apologies and her empty, recycled promises. We weren't a couple, but I still deserved a baseline level of respect for my time.

She called again immediately, the phone buzzing aggressively against the nightstand, but I resolutely turned it face down. Tomorrow was a heavy workday, and I needed my mind sharp. My colleague Anna would be expecting me to be at the top of my game after my sudden absence over the weekend. I needed to pour myself entirely into my dress designs and my career, and leave the dangerous confusion of the weekend exactly where it belonged—in the past.