The sun dipped low over Davao City, painting the sky in streaks of tangerine as Jaeniella Reyes unlocked the door to her childhood home. The familiar creak of the wooden steps echoed through the quiet neighborhood, a sound that had once been a lullaby. She paused, her hand lingering on the doorknob, and closed her eyes. Thirty-one years, she thought. Thirty-one years since we first met here.
It was 1998 when Kent Williams moved next door. At two years old, Jaeniella had stumbled into his front yard, clutching a tattered stuffed rabbit, and demanded he share his sandbox. He’d stared at her for a moment, then pushed a plastic shovel into her hand. “You can be my co-pilot,” he’d said, pointing to a pile of dirt shaped like a spaceship. From that day on, they were inseparable.
Childhood blurred into adolescence in a series of sunlit afternoons: building forts in the mango tree behind their houses, sharing ice cream cones at the corner sari-sari store, and sneaking into the local cinema to watch Titanic (they’d cried so hard, the theater manager gave them free popcorn). Nathan, Kent’s best friend, and Evelyn, Jaeniella’s, often joined them, but it was always Kent and Jaeniella at the center—two halves of a whole.
Then came their 18th birthday.
They’d celebrated at the beach, the waves crashing against the shore as they lit sparklers. Kent had taken her hand and led her away from the group, his fingers trembling. “Jaeniella,” he’d said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve loved you since we were seven. When you stayed up with me after my dog died. When you helped me study for my math exams even though you hated numbers. When you… when you just are.” He’d kissed her then, the taste of salt and coconut on his lips, and Jaeniella knew her life would never be the same.
For four years, they were happy. Too happy, Jaeniella sometimes thought. They shared a small apartment near the university, Kent studying engineering, Jaeniella pursuing a degree in education. They’d cook together (Jaeniella burned the rice, Kent burned the toast), argue over which movie to watch, and spend lazy Sundays curled up on the couch, listening to old OPM songs. Their parents adored each other—Roy and Williams would bond over golf, while Roseville and Paulette gossiped over cups of tsokolate. It felt like forever.
Then Evelyn came back.
She’d been studying abroad in the States for five years, and when she returned, she was different. Confident, glamorous, with a wardrobe that cost more than Jaeniella’s entire life savings. “Look at you,” she’d said, hugging Jaeniella tightly, her perfume overwhelming. “Still the same old Niela.” Jaeniella had smiled, but something in her chest tightened.
At first, it was harmless. Evelyn would join them for dinner, regaling them with stories of New York City. But then she started calling Kent late at night, “just to catch up.” She’d drop by his office unannounced, bringing him coffee from his favorite café. Jaeniella tried to ignore the knot in her stomach. They’re just friends, she told herself. Evelyn’s my best friend.
But then came the night of their engagement party.
Jaeniella had spent weeks planning it—fairy lights, a cake shaped like a spaceship (a nod to their childhood), and a playlist of their favorite songs. Kent had been distant all evening, checking his phone every five minutes. “Is everything okay?” Jaeniella had asked, adjusting his tie. He’d forced a smile. “Just work stuff. Don’t worry.”
Later, she’d gone to the bathroom and heard voices from the balcony. It was Kent and Evelyn. “I can’t do this,” Kent was saying. “I love her, but… I feel like I’m missing something.” Evelyn laughed. “Missing what? A life? You’re 22, Kent. You have your whole life ahead of you. Why settle for someone who’s never left Davao?” Jaeniella’s blood ran cold. She’d stood there, frozen, as Evelyn leaned in and kissed him.
She ran. She didn’t look back.
The next morning, Kent showed up at her apartment, his eyes red. “Jaeniella, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. Evelyn… she’s just… she’s exciting. I’m confused.” Jaeniella had looked at him, her heart breaking into a million pieces. “You chose her,” she said, her voice steady. “You chose her over us.” He’d tried to touch her, but she stepped back. “Leave, Kent. Please.”
Their engagement was called off. Roy, Kent’s father, had a heart attack that night and died a week later. Roseville blamed Jaeniella, though she never said it. Williams and Paulette tried to mediate, but it was too late. The rift between the two families was irreparable.
Ten years passed.
Jaeniella became a teacher at a local elementary school, finding joy in the laughter of her students. She bought a small house near the beach, and Nathan, who’d remained her friend, would visit on weekends. Evelyn and Kent got married a year after the breakup, but Jaeniella heard through the grapevine that their relationship was rocky. “She cheats on him all the time,” Nathan had said, shaking his head. “He’s miserable.” Jaeniella had nodded, but she didn’t feel anything. Not anymore.
Then, one day, she saw him.
She was at the grocery store, picking up milk, when she turned around and there he was. Kent Williams. He was taller, his hair flecked with gray, but his eyes were still the same—warm, brown, and familiar. He stared at her, his mouth agape. “Jaeniella,” he said.
She froze. For a moment, she was 18 again, standing on the beach, his lips on hers. Then she blinked, and the memory faded. “Kent,” she said, her voice neutral.
“How are you?” he asked, stepping closer.
“I’m good,” she said. “You?”
He hesitated. “I’m… okay. My mom’s been sick. She has diabetes.”
Jaeniella nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Silence. The sound of a baby crying in the next aisle filled the void.
“Evelyn and I are getting divorced,” Kent said suddenly.
Jaeniella didn’t react. “I see.”
“She’s been seeing someone else,” he said. “For years. I just… I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Jaeniella looked at him. She saw the pain in his eyes, the same pain she’d felt all those years ago. But she didn’t feel sorry for him. Not really.
“I should go,” she said, grabbing her milk. “I have a class to teach.”
Kent reached out and touched her arm. “Jaeniella, wait. Can we talk? Just for a minute?”
She pulled away. “There’s nothing to talk about, Kent. We’re strangers now.”
He stared at her, hurt in his eyes. “We were never strangers. We were… we were everything.”
Jaeniella shook her head. “No. We were two kids who thought we knew forever. But forever doesn’t exist.”
She turned and walked away. She didn’t look back.
That night, Jaeniella sat on her porch, watching the waves crash against the shore. Nathan sat beside her, handing her a glass of wine. “How did it go?” he asked.
She took a sip. “It was fine. We talked. He’s getting divorced.”
Nathan nodded. “I heard. Evelyn left him for some guy she met in Singapore.”
Jaeniella didn’t say anything.
“Are you okay?” Nathan asked.
She smiled. “I’m more than okay. I’ve spent the last ten years building a life for myself. A life that doesn’t revolve around Kent Williams.”
Nathan put his arm around her. “You’re strong, Niela. Stronger than you know.”
Jaeniella leaned into him, watching the stars come out. For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace.
Kent stood in the grocery store, staring at the empty spot where Jaeniella had been. He felt a familiar ache in his chest, a ache he’d tried to ignore for years. He thought about the life they could have had—kids, a house, old age together. But it was too late. He’d made his choice, and he’d have to live with the consequences.
He walked out of the store, the sun setting behind him. As he got into his car, he turned on the radio. A familiar song came on—“Ikaw Lamang” by Silent Sanctuary. He closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face.
Jaeniella was right. They were strangers now. And he’d never forgive himself for that.
Five years later, Jaeniella married a kind, gentle man named Marco. They had a daughter, whom they named Lila, after Jaeniella’s grandmother. Kent never remarried. He moved to Manila, where he worked as an engineer, and visited his mother every weekend.
They never saw each other again.
But sometimes, late at night, Jaeniella would lie in bed and think about the boy next door. The boy who’d given her a plastic shovel and a dream. The boy who’d broken her heart. And she’d smile, because she knew that even though they were strangers, he’d always be a part of her.
And Kent? He’d look at the old photograph of them, taken on their 18th birthday, and wonder what could have been. But he’d shake his head, because he knew that some things were better left in the past.
The ghost of Summer Lane would always linger. But it was a ghost they’d both learned to live with.
