Now my hair is long—just as long as I ever wanted it to be. Every morning, when I look into the mirror, I can barely recognize myself. The version of me that was once scared to do anything. Scared to try something new. The one who couldn't move on. I brush my long hair, put moisturizer on my face, mascara on my lashes, and lipstick on my lips. It’s something I never imagined I’d do in my entire life.

Now, I’m working at CC (COSMOS COSMETICS). I’ve found happiness in this company. The CEO is kind and funny—very friendly with everyone—and always treats her employees equally. She promised I’d be promoted soon and that my salary would increase. What more could make me happy? It felt like a blessing from God, and I worship this company for hiring me. It came into my life when I was clouded by darkness, lost and unsure of where to go after graduation. I am truly happy and grateful. All I can do is work sincerely and hope the best for the company. But sometimes, I wish I could do more—yet I often feel like I’m never enough. Since joining this company, I’ve started liking weekdays more than weekends. It feels like home, and the people there treat me so well.

My house is just 500 meters away from the company, and every morning, I walk there. I see people doing their own things, living their lives, and being happy with their loved ones. But when I see couples with their babies, I feel a twinge of jealousy. I’ve always wanted a baby boy—a son. A son I could raise well and turn into a gentleman every woman would dream of being with. What can I do? I guess fate just doesn’t favor me.

There’s something that always bothers me—the thought of him lingers. I have no feelings for him, but I think about him all the time. It’s like everything I do somehow reminds me of him. Did he really have such a deep impact on me? I ask myself this every single day. It’s been ten freaking years. I should be married by now—and he probably is too. Who knows? He might even have a son or daughter. I never want to suffer like that again. The life I have now is everything I ever needed—to be independent. So, when I think about him, I just consider it a past memory I couldn’t let go of, rather than something regretful about not being able to move on.

“Would I ever go back to him, if he wanted me back?”

I always think about this. And honestly, I’m eager to know the answer too.

“Lissy,” someone called me, while I was lost in my thoughts. I turned around to respond—and it was my co-worker, Zam.

“What’s up, Zam!” I replied.

Zam looked at me with a teasing expression and nudged my shoulder. Is she teasing me? I thought to myself. I could do nothing but laugh and nudge her back.

“You know?” she asked excitedly.

“Know what?” I replied, confused. What was she talking about?

“There’s a company dinner today, and our company is giving us a one-week off!” she squeaked.

A company dinner? I thought to myself. That’s a good thing—but I’m not so sure about the one-week off part. Still, seeing Zam happy, I replied, “WOWWWWW!”

We held hands and jumped around like two excited girls whose parents just agreed to their sleepover plan.

As always, I had finished my share of work. I actually work here as a reporter—reporting on how our sales are going and reviewing client feedback. Since I was done, I went to help the packing team. That’s when I saw Manager Dema. She was also helping out, transferring things. I figured it was a good time to ask about the sudden company dinner and the one-week break.

Manager Dema is as cheerful as our CEO. I heard they’ve been best friends since high school. Isn’t it cool to work with your best friend?

“Manager Dema?” I called politely, even though she’d told me not to be so formal.

She looked at me and furrowed her eyebrows—she was clearly busy, guiding the new staff. I felt guilty for interrupting and was about to walk away when she grabbed my hand.

“What the hell? You playing with me or what, girl?” she said, jokingly. “Tell me what it is!”

“It’s okay, madam. I’ll ask some other time.”

“Are you playing games with me now? I’m even more curious—tell me ASAP!”

I thought she was too busy, but I asked anyway.

“Actually, why are we having a company dinner today? It feels so sudden.”

“Oh!” she exhaled. “I just thought it was time we spent some company money on expensive food,” she said playfully.

My reaction was like, Are you for real?

She laughed and said, “I’m just kidding. Actually, the CEO and I are going abroad for a business workshop, so we thought we’d throw a little party and give everyone a week off.”

“Wow. Congratulations!” I said, shaking hands with her.

She thanked me, winked, and went back to work.

Finally, it was time for the dinner. The food our company ordered was amazing—absolutely delicious. Everyone was eating, drinking, dancing, talking, and getting wasted. I had two glasses of wine, and that was enough for me.

It turned into a chaotic but fun night. I truly enjoyed it. This is what home felt like.

My friend Zam got drunk, so I carried her to her stop and called her boyfriend. He’s actually her high school sweetheart, and they’re getting married soon. I was jealous again.

Her boyfriend came to pick her up. I overheard their conversation.

“Babyyyyy!” Zam greeted him, drunkenly.

“Eww, you stink of alcohol,” he said, scrunching his nose.

“What? Let me kiss you with my stinky mouth,” she said, moving in while he tried to dodge her.

They both laughed and were clearly enjoying the moment. When they noticed me, they waved goodbye and headed home.

It was wholesome to watch their playful relationship. But deep down, I wished I had something like that too. I was so jealous.

It was 10 p.m. I know how risky it is for a girl to walk alone at night, but it felt refreshing and comforting. The wind on my face, the moon, the stars, and the city lights—it was all so beautiful, I couldn’t stop admiring it.

I walked slowly, reminiscing about the times I used to sneak out at night for walks with my friends. The city was quiet.

As I reached the bench park near my house, just 100 meters away, I suddenly heard a cough. It gave me chills. I tried to ignore it, but the coughing got worse. I couldn’t help but check. It was coming from behind the big pipal tree.

A man was sitting there, coughing so hard it sounded like his lungs might burst. I couldn’t see his face—it was too dark.

“Excuse me, mister? Are you okay?” I asked.

But there was no reply.

There was nothing else I could do, so I turned on my flashlight to check. When I did, I saw his back—bruised and bloodied.

Shocked, I rushed to help him up without even thinking.

Who would’ve known?

It was someone I’d been trying so hard to forget.

“Lio?” My eyes widened. “What happened?” I couldn’t think straight.

His eyes widened too when he saw me. I looked into them—those same eyes, that same look. He turned away as soon as he noticed me staring.

“Let me help you,” I offered, reaching out. He refused.

“Faster!” I yelled, almost panicked.

I helped him stand and took him to my house.

Seeing him like that after so many years worried me.

I was overwhelmed with curiosity—how did he end up in such a condition?

Am I not dreaming? I thought to myself. Am I drunk? Am I seeing things?

Why after so many years? Why is he here? Why am I bumping into him now?

If I remember correctly, the last time we met was during our high school fete day. Our class had opened a boba stall—I was the cashier—and I saw him buying a boba from us.

We didn’t exchange a single word. But we both knew what the moment meant, even without speaking.

I still remember how awkward it was. It was hard to even look at him, though I could feel his gaze. He was trying to avoid eye contact just as much as I was.

Especially when his girlfriend walked in from behind.

That was the last time we ever saw each other—and the last time I ever wished to bump into him.

I carried him to my house. He looked weak. He was weak. I laid him on my couch and brought him a blanket, as he was shivering so much. My mind was lost in mist, not knowing what to do. I quickly went to the kitchen, grabbed some water in a small bowl, and fetched a towel from the bathroom. I soaked the towel in the water and began to wipe the parts of his body that were bloodied.

I felt his breath. I felt his body resisting, but I kept going. His eyes were slightly open. He looked at me. I looked away.

"Stop. Let me die," he whispered.

I stayed quiet, though his words tore me up inside.

"Do you still like me or what?" he asked.

I didn’t know. What was I supposed to do when I saw someone covered in blood, on the brink of death? Was I supposed to walk away and ignore it? No. Of course, I had to help.

I couldn’t say anything. I just continued wiping his body—his body that was once strong, now fragile.

He kept whispering, "Stop it, stop it," until he finally fell asleep.

I was done. I sat beside the couch he was sleeping on, my head lowered, wondering why I had to bump into him. I kept thinking and thinking, until I realized his friend Jim might know why Lio was in this condition.

I searched my phone for Jim's contact, and when I finally found it, I called him.

"Hello?"

"Jim, it’s me—Lissy," I said quickly.

"Oh, Lissy! What’s up?" he greeted.

"Jim, listen to me. Today I bumped into Lio—"

Before I could finish, he interrupted.

"Oh, so you wanna ask if he’s still single or not? Man, I don’t even know. It’s been ages since we last talked," he said, sounding disappointed.

I was shocked.

"Jim, this isn’t a joke. Lio is literally in my house. I found him drenched in blood and bruises!" I shouted through the phone.

I could only hear Jim gasp.

"Please, you’ve got to do something," I begged.

"Are you serious?" he shouted, so loudly I thought I’d go deaf.

"Yes. I’m being honest. He’s sleeping right now."

"Oh God... bro must’ve gotten into something bad again. Oh f—" he cursed.

I stayed quiet. I wanted to ask about that “something bad,” but it wasn’t my business. I kept silent as he continued.

"Whatever it is, I’ll come see him myself. I’ll call you tomorrow."

The call ended. I was left with Lio lying on my couch, covered in bruises. I didn’t know how to feel.

I moved forward to check his fever. I placed my hand on his forehead—and felt him lean into my touch. I quickly pulled my hand away and walked off.

I closed my bedroom door and slowly slid down against it, sitting on the floor.

"Why can’t he leave me?" I whispered, full of pain.

My alarm rang. I checked the time—it was 7 in the morning. I was still tired. I hadn’t slept well last night. I’d been awake until 3 a.m., thinking about what could’ve happened to Lio.

What would’ve happened to him if I hadn’t bumped into him on the road? Did he even know I was here? Was he still the same bad boy he always used to be?

“Oh god, I’m late!” I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom—until I remembered we had a one-week holiday.

I was such a dumb girl. I walked back to bed and laid down again, then remembered Lio might be awake. I got up to check on him—only to find he was gone.

Honestly, I wasn’t even surprised. The room was a mess. The blanket was on the floor, and the balcony door was wide open. I knew he had jumped off from there. No surprises.

He was always like that—and probably always would be. That was something I’d always known about him. He was stubborn, but with a soft heart.

I stepped out onto the balcony to see if there was any trace of him, but all I found was my flowerpot shattered.

It didn’t even break my heart. I expected that too. He was always like that. I had to accept it—I have accepted it.

I walked back into the room and sat on the couch where Lio had been lying. I looked around at the mess. I smiled like a fool. I was a fool for helping him.

But I didn’t have time to waste, so I started cleaning up the mess he left behind. It wasn’t even that big, but for some reason, it felt like it would take forever to clean.

As I picked up the bowl and the towel, I found a small note.

> “Please give this number to Jim: 17xxxxxx09.”

I looked at it and smiled like a fool. His handwriting hadn’t changed—but it was crooked, like he hadn’t written anything in a long time. Maybe since dropping out.

Why did he drop out? That’s all I thought about the day it happened.

I still remember the time I argued with Jim. It was months after Lio dropped out. My teenage heart couldn’t forget him. I was in love with him, and I thought I’d never be able to move on.

To delete him from my heart, I tried dating other boys. I had no reason to wait for him—I knew he’d never come back.

Even in his absence, Jim kept teasing me about Lio. I told him to stop. I told him things were over, that I didn’t love Lio anymore—even though that was a lie.

I had to lie, to move on. On the outside, I acted like I didn’t care. But inside, it was always Lio.

Then one day, I met a boy who showed me a whole new world. A world where Lio didn’t exist. He healed the pain Lio left behind, caressed the scars Lio had caused—not that I blamed Lio for everything.

Lio was sweet. Just... stubborn. But I never understood why he was like that, or why he had to drop out of school.

Even though I was enjoying my time with this new boy, Lio still had a special place in my heart. One that no one could ever replace.

One day, while I was sitting in class with the boy who changed me, Jim came over and started talking about Lio again—right in front of him.

> “Using someone to forget your Lio?” he laughed.

It wasn’t funny. Not when I was trying so hard to move on.

“Jim, stop it,” I snapped, feeling the boy’s gaze on me.

“Lissy, I never thought you’d be like this. Aren’t you supposed to be loyal?” he said, disappointed.

“What the hell are you saying? It’s over—and it’s not funny anymore!” I yelled.

“This is not a joke!” he shouted back.

Everyone was staring. The classmates who once knew about Lio now knew everything else.

I walked out of the class, and Jim followed.

“Liss,” he called me—the name Lio always used.

I stopped and turned around, angry. “Stop it.”

Jim stood still. I hoped he saw the pain in my eyes.

“Will you ever stop?” I asked bitterly. “Aren’t you the one who told me Lio had someone new? That he was going to marry her?”

“Yes. I told you that,” he admitted.

“So why?” I asked, my voice breaking.

“Why? You ask me why? Did you ever ask him why he dropped out? No, right? Look how much you’ve changed after meeting that so-called perfect guy. As Lio’s friend, it hurts me. All my efforts were in vain,” he yelled.

It felt like a scolding I never expected. What could I even say? We hadn’t been talking at the time. How could I have asked Lio anything?

Why was it all suddenly my fault?

I stood there in silence, staring at Jim blankly.

“I’m so done,” he said, throwing his hands in the air and walking off.

I turned to go back to class—and saw the boy standing at the door. I couldn’t even look at him.

I walked past him and back into the classroom. I felt his eyes following me.

I hated that moment. It destroyed me.

From that day on, I ignored him. We never spoke again. Jim stopped teasing me. And I—

I never dated another boy after that.

I finished cleaning the mess. I gathered the shattered flower pot into a temporary plastic bag. It was actually my favorite one. Guess I’ll have to buy a new one now. I washed up and changed into a simple outfit—a blue T-shirt with black pajama pants.

I walked into the room and sat on the couch where Lio had laid. I picked up my favorite book and started reading, trying to distract myself from thoughts of Lio. After all the pain I went through to forget him, I didn’t want it to come back again. But deep down, I still wanted to know—why did he leave like that?

My mind was a mess until my phone rang. It was Jim. I picked up.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Liss, I’m in front of your door. Open up!” he said. Was he really that tempted not to knock?

I ended the call without responding and went to open the door. As I opened it, I yelled at him,

“What’s the use of your hands? Can’t you knock?”

He just laughed it off. I stomped angrily back into the room and sat down while he slowly closed the door, taking his time to look around.

He noticed the photo frames from our high school days. There were none of him, so maybe he felt a little sting in his heart. He would’ve been in that graduation photo—if only he hadn’t flunked his language classes.

He examined the furniture arrangement and moved toward my cat-shaped shelf, admiring the books. I saw him nod with satisfaction before turning to look at me.

“I bet all these books have something to do with Lio,” he smirked.

All I could do was roll my eyes. He wandered around, going from the living room to the kitchen and then toward my bedroom—

No, wait!

I panicked. Did I leave my panties on the bed?

Thankfully, Jim was kind enough not to enter.

“I respect people’s privacy,” he said casually, then came back to the room.

“Stop already! What are you—a cop searching for evidence? Sit down!” I yelled.

He shot me a look and sat on the single-seater couch.

“Oh, where did you hide Lio?” he asked enthusiastically.

“He ran away,” I told him.

“Whattt?” His eyes widened. “Why are you so chill about it?”

Is there any reason for me to worry? Who even is he to me?

I didn’t answer. Instead, I told him about the note Lio left.

“At least he knows what he’s doing,” Jim smiled.

“Oh, right. I forgot you were a guest. Let me bring you something to drink.” I stood up and headed to the kitchen, but then he called out.

I turned around.

“I only drink coffee,” he said, raising his left eyebrow and winking.

“Yes, sir,” I said and left.

I made him a coffee and a hot milk for myself. On the way back, I saw Jim holding my old diary—the one with the Spider-Man cover.

“Hey! Is this how you respect privacy?” I burst out.

“What’s there to hide? I know everything,” he said calmly. “I’m just surprised you still have this,” he added with a warm smile.

“Whatever. I was gonna throw it out sooner or later,” I said awkwardly, unsure where that came from.

Then, he started dialing Lio’s number.

“I was actually waiting for you, so you could hear what we’re talking about too,” he smirked.

I rolled my eyes.

“Please don’t tell him I’m with you,” I requested.

He nodded.

Lio picked up the phone, and my heart started racing as if I were the one calling. Jim quickly put it on speaker.

“Hello,” Lio said, his voice rusty.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Man, how have you been? It’s me, Jim!” Jim said, excited but emotional.

“Hello, Jim. It’s been a while,” Lio replied with a low voice and a soft chuckle.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I heard from Liss— I mean, from Lissy—that you were injured. Are you okay, man?” Jim asked, concerned.

Lio chuckled. “What worse could happen to me? My life’s always been like this and probably always will be. I was trying so hard to avoid Liss—”

My heart skipped a beat.

“It’s funny how I always end up meeting her when I’m in a state like this,” he said, sounding sad. I could hear the pain in his voice. I couldn’t tell if it came from guilt or love.

“Man, it’s fine. It’s no big deal. I know she doesn’t care,” he said, maybe trying to convince himself. I looked away.

“But I care,” Lio blurted out. “I couldn’t even exchange a word with her after she helped me. Instead, I messed up her room and broke one of her flower pots.” His voice broke a little.

I never thought he felt this way.

Jim smiled and suggested, “How about you buy her a new one?”

“No,” Lio said firmly. “I don’t want to give her false hope—make her think I’m in love with her.”

My heart shattered. But somehow, it was exactly what I’d always expected from him.

I stood up and took my cup to the kitchen.

What was I even expecting from him? He was always ungrateful. I don’t remember a single thing he appreciated. And me? I’m always driven by the smallest bit of care someone gives me.

I hate feeling like this. I hate myself for feeling like this after I said I’d moved on.

I couldn’t leave my guest alone, so I went back to the room. It seemed they’d wrapped up the conversation.

I walked in awkwardly. Jim looked at me with a disappointed expression.

“What?” I asked.

“Why did you walk away?” he challenged.

I stayed quiet and sat down. “I took my empty cup to the sink.”

He glared at me and sighed. “Still running away instead of facing things. You haven’t changed.”

What? I thought to myself.

I curled up on the couch, resting my head on my knees, drifting back to memories—how Lio used to get worked up when I ignored him, how my heart would flutter, how we used to solve math problems together.

Now, those memories just haunt me. Sometimes, I wish they’d never happened.

“Wow, Liss. Look at this,” Jim said, holding up a passage from my diary.

I looked over, uninterested—until I realized it was something I’d written about Lio.