The old letter trembled in her fingers.
Señorito Sev,
Today I slipped on the rice paddy, but you surprised me by helping me up. Your hand was so warm when you reached for mine. When the sunlight hit your face, I saw you smile at me. You're so kind. Thank you, Señorito.
A single tear dropped onto the yellowed paper-the very first letter Grasya had written to her childhood love. She could still picture that bright, easy smile he had given her that day in the fields.
She pressed the letter tightly to her chest. So many beautiful memories lived between them. How was she supposed to bury them all? For years before he left for Manila, he had been nothing but good to her. For as long as she could remember, she had dreamed of building a happy family with him by her side.
"Sev..." she whispered.
Before he left Santa Catalina, his promises had burned with certainty-he would come back and marry her. But when he finally returned, only coldness greeted her. His gaze now made her knees weak for entirely different reasons. It was nothing like before.
She sniffed and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Why did you suddenly change? What did I do wrong?" The bitter question drifted into the empty room.
She collapsed onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. Slowly, her eyes closed as memories flooded back-the happy ones.
She remembered the day Sev plucked a leaf and slipped it between his fingers.
"Listen to this, Grasya," he had said with a playful grin.
"What am I listening to?" she asked, already smiling.
"This." He blew on the leaf, producing a clear, whistle-like sound.
Her eyes widened in delight. "You're amazing! How did you do that?"
"Secret. I'm not telling you," he teased, laughing.
She had pouted and flopped down on the grass. He came over, still chuckling, and ruffled her hair before sitting beside her.
"Even if I taught you, I doubt you'd get it right."
She had rolled her eyes at him.
He laughed again. "Tell you what-every time you hear this leaf whistle, it means I miss you."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Yeah, it's true."
The memory faded as Grasya opened her eyes. Fresh tears blurred the white ceiling above her. She pushed herself up, leaning back against the headboard, and hugged her knees to her chest. The sobs came quietly this time, muffled. She didn't want her father to hear. She didn't want him to worry.
"Sev... if I ever learn how to whistle with a leaf, do you think my longing would reach you?" She bit her lower lip hard. The trembling started in her heart and spread through her entire exhausted body.
"I love you so much, Sev. Do you even know that? Please don't hurt me like this." Her voice broke into a soft, broken whisper. "The way you're treating me now... it hurts too much."
Sleep never came.
By six in the morning, she slipped out of her room. She grabbed some ice and pressed it to her swollen eyes, trying to hide the evidence of another sleepless night.
The pain was unbearable. She still couldn't accept it. Severen wasn't just her boyfriend-he had been her best friend since childhood. Her first love. Aside from her father, he was the only person who had ever truly held her heart. He had been her rock, her safe place. The one she leaned on when life got heavy. The one who made her stronger. The one who made her smile.
"What happened to your eyes?"
Grasya jumped at the sound of her father's voice. Gabriel Manafa stood in the small kitchen. He was thin but tall, his thinning hair almost completely white now. She didn't look like him. Everyone always said she took after her mother-and that her mother had been very beautiful.
Grasya's face was small and delicately proportioned. Soft cheeks framed her large, expressive eyes with their long lashes. Her nose was straight and refined. Her lips were naturally full and rosy-the kind that easily drew attention. Whenever she spoke, people's eyes often lingered there. Her jet-black hair fell all the way to her waist.
But she never wanted to resemble her mother. That woman had abandoned them for someone else. And the neighborhood had shunned Grasya for years because of her mother's stained reputation.
"Grasya," her father called gently.
"Dad." She hadn't realized he was already eating breakfast. A steaming cup of coffee and a bag of pandesal sat on their tiny table. "W-what is it?"
"I asked what happened to your eyes?" he repeated.
"It's nothing. I bumped into the door last night. That's why they're swollen," she lied.
Her father drew in a deep breath. "Are you really going to lie to your own father, Grasya? I know you better than anyone."
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
He sighed again, heavier this time.
Her brow furrowed with worry. "Dad, is something wrong?" Something beyond her puffy eyes was clearly bothering him.
He lowered his head and shook it weakly. "The Morenzos let me go, Grasya. I don't have a job anymore."
The ice slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. "What? They fired you?" Her whole body started shaking.
He tried to smile, but it was thin and forced. "It's fine. Don't worry. I'll find another job soon. There are plenty out there."
He kept his tone light, but she could see the pain behind it. Her father had served the Morenzo family faithfully for years-hardworking, honest, never complaining.
"Why did they fire you, Dad?" Her hands curled into tight fists.
"They said I'm too old. They need someone younger. They don't need me anymore." The bitter smile returned.
"They can't do that to you!" Fresh tears burned in her already swollen eyes. "Is it because of me? Did they fire you because of what happened with me?"
He stayed quiet for a long moment. "Grasya... just forget about Señorito Severen."
The crack in her heart split wider. She wanted to scream. The Morenzos were cruel. They had even dragged her innocent father into their mess. "Dad..."
"The gap between our worlds is too wide, anak. They're rich. Too high above us. We can never reach them. Let him go."
The pain in her chest flared again.
They could never reach them... so she should just let go.
It hurt so much-like being scalded by boiling water, then having the burned skin scrubbed raw.
What made it worse was that she still didn't understand what she had done to deserve being called an opportunist. If their lives had been reversed-if she had been born rich and he poor-she would have loved him just the same. His status had never mattered. His money had never mattered.
"Grasya, are you listening? Let him go," her father repeated.
She nodded slowly, not wanting to worry him any more than she already had.
Gabriel stood up. "Eat your breakfast. I'm going back to my room." As he took a step, his legs nearly gave out.
"Dad!" She rushed to his side and steadied him. "Are you feeling sick? I'll take you to the hospital right now."
"No, no. My legs just feel a little weak. I'll rub some oil on them later. I'll be fine."
She helped him to his room, applied the ointment to both legs herself, and massaged them gently. She stayed by his side until he finally fell asleep.
That night, she made a decision. She would talk to Sev-not for herself, but for her father. Firing him so suddenly wasn't right. She changed into a simple T-shirt and faded jeans, then headed toward the Morenzo mansion.
She paused at the gate. Dozens of luxury cars lined the driveway. Every light in the house was on. Music, laughter, and the click of expensive heels drifted through the air. A party. She kept walking anyway. The guards saw her but didn't stop her.
She reached the main entrance, gripped the doorframe, and peered inside. Guests in formal attire held wine glasses. Laughter floated on the breeze.
"Thank you, everyone, for coming!" Señora Renata's voice rang out brightly. She gestured to someone.
Severen stepped forward in a sharp formal suit. He wasn't alone. A sophisticated woman clung to his arm, smiling beautifully beside him.
Grasya's hand flew to her chest, fingers curling painfully into her shirt. He looked genuinely happy. That real smile-the one he used to give only to her-was now directed at the woman beside him. Every glance he gave Riva felt like a knife twisting in her heart.
"My son is getting married soon!" Renata announced proudly. "His fiancée, my future daughter-in-law Riva, is the daughter of the Cabinet Secretary of Finance."
A soft, bitter laugh escaped Grasya's throat.
You can't fall in love with anyone else. You're mine for life. Your heart belongs only to me.
When I come back, we'll get married.
All those promises... nothing but lies.
"This son of yours, Tita-he's so eager to marry me," Riva giggled. "Even with his busy schedule at the company, he always finds time to write me letters. Can you believe that? He's so old-fashioned, right? I mean, letters? Who does that anymore? He could just call or text. But I love him, so I accepted every single one."
Severen had written Riva letters.
Grasya's breath hitched. The same kind of letters they used to exchange.
"In his very first letter, he already said he wanted to make me his wife," Riva continued smoothly. "After that, he never stopped. He's always there for me. He goes everywhere with me. He's like my shadow, auntie."
That's why he had stopped calling her from Manila.
That's why he never let her visit.
He had claimed he was too busy. That his father didn't want his attention divided.
Grasya shook her head slowly. From the shadows, she watched Severen's face with aching eyes.
He hadn't been busy.
He had simply stopped loving her.
He had learned to love someone else. Her name was no longer the one his heart whispered.
She bit her lip hard and lowered her head. Her whole body trembled. Tears fell silently.
When she looked up again, Severen's eyes had locked directly onto her.
He froze. The smile vanished from his lips. For several tense seconds, their gazes held. His jaw tightened. A storm of emotion crossed his face.
His lips parted. She was certain he whispered her name.
"Grasya..."
