LOGINI stepped out of the taxi, exhausted, balancing two paper bags in one hand and my bag in the other. Three days had passed since that night, yet I still couldn’t get what I had heard out of my head.
As soon as I walked in, I noticed Mom sitting in the living room, focused on her phone, texting someone. Perfect timing.
“Mom,” I called out, setting my things down on the table.
She glanced at me briefly before returning her attention to her phone. “Hmm? What is it?”
I took a deep breath. Okay, Laura. Just say it. “Can we talk?”
It took her a moment, but eventually, she looked up. “What is it?”
I bit my lip before speaking. “It’s about Edward.”
Her brows furrowed. “What about Edward?”
I hesitated, but there was no turning back now. “Three days ago, I got home earlier than usual. I overheard him on the phone—” I swallowed hard. “And I’m not stupid, Mom. He was sweet-talking someone.”
A heavy silence filled the room.
Then she scoffed. “Laura, seriously?” She shook her head, crossing her arms. “You must have misunderstood.”
Her words made my blood boil. “I know what I heard.”
“And what exactly did you hear?” she shot back, now looking irritated. “Did he say a name? Did he say something specific?”
I bit my lip. “No, but—”
“Then stop assuming,” she snapped, her voice sharp. “You’re making things up, Laura. Edward loves me.”
My frustration only grew. “So you won’t even consider it? Not even for a second?”
“I don’t have to because I trust him,” she said firmly, standing up and grabbing her phone again. “Don’t ruin our relationship over a misunderstanding.”
I took a step back. “A misunderstanding?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Wow, Mom. Not even once did you think that maybe—just maybe—I could be right.”
She sighed, clearly exasperated. “Laura, please. This conversation is over.”
I swallowed hard, fighting back the lump forming in my throat. “Right. Of course. You’re the only one worth believing.”
“Laura—”
I shook my head and turned away before she could say anything else.
I stormed upstairs, shut my door, and sank onto my bed. I was furious—not just at Edward, but at Mom too. I tried to warn her, but what did she do? She brushed me off like I was being dramatic.
I pressed my fingers to my temples, feeling drained.
I need a break.
Grabbing my phone, I sent a text to Sue.
Laura: You up for a drink?
Sue: Damn, ikaw pa nag-aya? ON MY WAY.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Good. I need a distraction.
An hour later, I was already at the bar, downing my second shot. I wasn’t even sure how I got here, but at this point, I didn’t care. I just wanted to forget.
“Damn, girl, you’re getting drunk fast,” Sue teased as she sipped her tequila.
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”
She shook her head. “Damn, must be serious. Spill?”
Before I could answer, a familiar voice cut through the noise.
“Well, well. What do we have here?”
I froze.
Turning my head, I saw Cole smirking down at me, hands casually tucked into his pockets.
“Seriously? You again?” I groaned.
He chuckled. “Didn’t expect to see you here again, sweetheart.”
“For fuck’s sake, I’m not your sweetheart,” I muttered, taking another shot.
Before I could process anything else, my vision blurred.
The last thing I knew, strong arms caught me before everything faded to black.
I could still faintly hear the bass in the background, but it was getting farther away. The sound of my blood rushing in my ears overpowered the music.
“Laura.”
Cole’s voice.
I frowned, but I couldn’t even open my eyes. I felt weightless, like I had no control over my own body.
“Damn it, Laura, you really don’t know your limit, do you?” His voice was laced with both irritation and concern, but the words barely registered in my foggy mind.
I heard a car door open—at least, I assumed it was a car—and then I felt strong arms lifting me up.
“Tsk, you’re a mess,” he muttered, but his tone was different this time. It wasn’t teasing. It was… softer. Like he was talking to a child he had no choice but to take care of.
I tried to respond, but even my lips wouldn’t move. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and no matter how hard I tried to understand what he was saying, everything turned into static.
“I swear, you’re trouble.” He let out a quiet sigh. “But… damn it.”
I didn’t hear the rest.
Because after that, everything went black.
The campus was buzzing long before the first class even started.Whispers clung to the hallways like humidity—heavy, sticky, impossible to ignore. People were clustered in small groups, phones out, eyes wide, waiting for something. Or maybe someone.And then Michelle arrived.She stormed through the main gate with the kind of energy that made people instinctively step aside. Her hair was unbrushed, her eyes red, her uniform wrinkled as if she hadn’t slept at all. One hand clutched her bag; the other protectively hovered over her barely showing stomach.But what stood out wasn’t her appearance.It was the fury simmering under her skin.“WHERE IS SHE!?” she shouted, voice cracking through the courtyard.Heads turned. Conversations stopped. Even the security guard froze.Vienna and Jacob were at the benches nearby, both jolting to attention. Sue, who had been recording TikTok drafts with her friends, lowered her phone. Even professors who were on their way to class paused.Because everyo
Michelle had always believed she could control everything.Her image.Her relationships.Her future.But now—sitting alone in her tiny condominium room, lights dimmed, one hand resting on her swelling abdomen—control felt like a distant, mocking memory.The pregnancy test boxes lay scattered on the floor, remnants of the night she took six of them just to be sure.It wasn’t even denial.It was panic disguised as certainty.Edward promised her everything.“We’ll figure it out,” he told her.“Just keep quiet for now.”Except… he wasn’t answering her calls anymore.The messages she sent stayed marked as delivered.Never read.Never replied to.He used to call her sweetheart.Now it felt like he was pretending she didn’t exist.Michelle paced the living room, her bare feet brushing past the notes she scribbled everywhere—scribbles that grew more frantic by the day.“He’s just busy.”“He’s scared.”“He’ll come around.”“He has to come around.”Her breathing became uneven.Her reflection,
I woke up one morning to a sky that looked the same, but nothing felt right anymore. The colors seemed muted, like someone had sucked the vibrancy out of the world while I slept. My studio smelled faintly of turpentine and old paint, but today it smelled like betrayal. Every canvas, every brushstroke, every unfinished attempt at something beautiful—mocking me.I didn’t go to class. I didn’t answer my phone. I didn’t care if anyone noticed. Even Cole’s texts went unanswered, unread, left to pile up into the little guilt-weighted mountains he probably didn’t even realize were there.I stacked my canvases, one by one, on the floor. My hands shook, not from anger but from exhaustion—the kind that burrows into your bones and leaves nothing but raw, hollowed-out space where your joy used to live. I pulled a lighter from the kitchen drawer, a tiny flame licking the edges of the nearest canvas. The smell of burning oil paint hit me, choking, but I didn’t stop.They burned slowly at first, cur
Flashback — Five Years AgoThe house was silent, save for the faint tick of the grandfather clock in the corner. Emily stood by the kitchen counter, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug, though she didn’t drink. Across from her, Daniel lounged in the leather armchair, laughing at something on the evening news, completely unaware.It had taken months to get to this point. Months of careful planning, of observing, of waiting for the perfect moment to act. Emily’s face was calm, almost serene, but behind her eyes, a storm brewed. Every lie he had told, every betrayal, every vile act she had uncovered—the infidelity, the secret accounts, the dealings that chilled her to the bone—had led her here.She moved quietly, precise, almost invisible, carrying the small vial hidden in the folds of her coat. Daniel didn’t look up, too absorbed in his phone to notice the careful grace of her movements. Her hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the sheer weight of her resolve.“Dinner’s r
The morning air felt heavier than usual, like it was holding its breath just for us. I was standing in the foyer, coffee forgotten in my hand, when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the street.“Mom?” I called, and before I could move, a black SUV screeched to a stop outside. People in suits were already crowding the sidewalk, cameras flashing like strobe lights in a nightmare I wasn’t ready to be part of.Emily stepped out of the car, face pale but defiant. I could see the strain in her posture, the way her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. She tried to smile at the reporters, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I wanted to run to her, to tell her it would be okay, but my body froze as uniformed officers approached.“Mom…” I whispered, my voice cracking.“Laura,” she said softly, and there was a tightness in her throat that made my heart twist. “It’s nothing. Don’t…” She didn’t finish.The officers spoke quietly, formal and precise, and then she was being led away—hands
The morning air was crisp, carrying just a hint of fall, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the world didn’t feel like it was pressing down on me. I met Cole outside our usual coffee spot, and he was leaning against his car like he owned the world, hair slightly mussed from sleep, gym bag slung casually over one shoulder.“Finally,” he said, sliding into the bench across from me. “You actually made it on time today.”I rolled my eyes, though a grin tugged at my lips. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I muttered, pretending to sip my latte with nonchalance.“Uh-huh,” he said, smirking. “Says the girl who somehow always smiles like she’s won a million-dollar prize the second she sees me.”I snorted, shaking my head. “I win at pretending you’re not distracting.”We walked through the streets afterward, aimlessly but perfectly, letting the city guide us. The sunlight caught in his hair every time he laughed at some ridiculous joke I made, and I caught myself staring a little too lo







