No strings attached |(UNDER REVISION)

Chapter 1- The Ghosts of Yesterday

I didn't answer.

Because deep down, I knew she was right.

And maybe that was why I let her in. Because she reminded me what it felt like to breathe.

I don't know when friendship turned into something more.

Maybe it was the way she always leaned too close when she talked to me, her breath tickling my skin. Or maybe it was the way her gaze softened whenever she looked at me, as if she saw something in me that no one else did.

But I do remember the exact moment I realized I was in love with her.

It was raining that night. We were trapped in a small café near Palma Hall, waiting out the storm. The air smelled like coffee and rain, and outside, the streets were slick with water.

Mikha was across from me, sipping on her cappuccino, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the wooden table. She was rambling about some business idea she had, completely lost in her own world.

And I wasn't listening.

I was just watching her-the way she bit her lip when she was thinking, the way her fingers tapped against the table, the way she made everything around her feel alive.

Then she stopped mid-sentence and smirked.

"Aiah, if you're gonna stare at me like that, might as well kiss me."

My breath hitched.

She said it like a joke, but the way she held my gaze told me otherwise.

I scoffed, looking away. "Ang kapal ng mukha mo."

But she just leaned in, her voice dropping into something softer. "Am I wrong?"

And I hated that she was right.

That night, she kissed me.

And I let her.

And for a while, it was enough.

But love, no matter how intense, isn't always enough.

The things that made us fall for each other were the same things that pulled us apart.

Mikha was a free spirit, living in the moment. I was always planning, always thinking about the future. She was chaos; I was order. And as much as we loved each other, we couldn't find a middle ground.

"Aiah, hindi mo ako pwedeng ikulong sa mundo mo," she told me one night, frustration laced in her voice.

"And you think this is easy for me?" I shot back. "Mikha, I love you, pero hindi pwedeng puro laro lang tayo. We need direction. Stability."

She laughed bitterly. "You mean control."

The truth hurt more than I wanted to admit.

We fought for hours, words turning into weapons, wounds we couldn't take back.

Until finally, she whispered the words that shattered me completely.

"Aiah... pwede mo akong mahalin nang hindi sinusubukang baguhin."

Silence.

And in that silence, we both knew.

This was the end.

She walked away that night. And I let her.

Because even though I loved her, I couldn't hold on to someone who was meant to fly.

People say time heals all wounds.

But some wounds don't heal.

Some just become scars-reminders of what was, and what could never be again.

And no matter how much I tried to move forward, there were nights when I still felt her-in the spaces she once occupied, in the memories we once shared.

She was the greatest love of my life.

And the one I lost.

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