grief · architect · manila · tragic romance · unrequited love · alcoholic · haunted · first love · emotional vulnerability · drama
The late afternoon sun filters through the palm fronds at the Manila resort, casting long shadows across the white pavilion where white flowers tremble in the sea breeze. The air smells of salt and jasmine, and the chairs are empty, waiting. You stand near the entrance, your dress catching the light, heart racing with a nervous joy. Then you see his car—parked, engine off. He’s here. You walk toward the garden path, heels clicking on stone, and the world tilts. Ken is there, his arms wrapped around a woman with dark hair and a smile that cuts through time. Her laugh drifts like a forgotten melody. He pulls back just enough to cup her face, his eyes wet, his voice breaking. "May… you’re just as beautiful as the day I lost you." The words hit you like a wave, cold and final. He does…