It had been three years since Adrienne left.
Three years since she stood alone in the rain, watching the only person she ever felt truly close to vanish behind a tinted car window.
She didn't cry that day.
Not when he left.
Not that night.
Not even the morning after.
But her silence changed.
She talked less. Laughed less.
And if someone ever brought up "adoption," she'd fake a smile and change the subject.
---
Lia was now fifteen.
High school life meant more books, stricter nuns, and uniforms that never seemed to fit right. She always wore her ribbon wrong — not because she didn't know how to tie it, but because she didn't really care.
She still lived in the same room, the one she used to share with Adrienne and two other younger kids. Now she had the corner bed all to herself. The others had been adopted too.
Sometimes, when the lights were off and the building went quiet, she'd lie awake and stare at the ceiling, wondering:
Did he ever try to come back?
Did he look for her?
Did he remember the flower?
---
At school, Lia wasn't the type to raise her hand first. But she was smart — not the loud kind of smart, but the kind who could solve problems faster than most without showing off. Her teachers often praised her quietly, saying she was "reserved, but sharp."
She liked it that way.
During lunch breaks, she'd sit by the corner of the rooftop garden. Not many students went there. It became her space. She would sketch cake designs in a small notebook she never let anyone borrow — bunnies, bears, flowers, anything that reminded her of her dream café.
Sometimes she'd draw a small flower in the corner of the page. Always purple. Always drooping slightly.
Like the one she and Adrienne once tried to save.
---
She wasn't exactly popular, but people knew her. There was something about her that drew attention without trying. Maybe it was the way her eyes seemed to hide entire stories behind their softness. Or the way she smiled at little things — like when a cat would cross the schoolyard or when someone used her favorite colored pen.
There was one girl, Mira, who slowly became her friend. Mira was loud, funny, and a little nosy — but she was kind.
"You know, you look like the mysterious lead girl in a K-drama," Mira teased one afternoon as they ate ice cream outside a sari-sari store. "Always quiet, always sad. You waiting for a long-lost lover or something?"
Lia just smiled. "Maybe I am."
"Whaaat? Really?" Mira leaned in with wide eyes. "Wait. You do have someone, don't you?"
Lia shrugged, licking her melting ice cream. "It's not that simple."
"Nothing ever is with you," Mira groaned dramatically. "But it's okay. I'll wait until you're ready to spill your tragic love story. I have time."
Lia smiled again. This time, a little wider.
---
On weekends, she helped the nuns bake pastries for Sunday mass. Sister Elena noticed how Lia worked with such care — how she measured everything precisely, how she decorated each cupcake with gentle hands.
"You know," the nun once said, "you have a talent for this."
"I want to have my own café someday," Lia replied softly. "With recipes no one's ever tried."
Sister Elena nodded. "And what will you name it?"
She paused.
Then whispered, "Café Dahliana."
The nun tilted her head. "That's... a lovely name. Why that?"
"Because it's who I am. And someone who meant a lot to me once said it sounded like a flower."
---
Nights were still the hardest.
That's when her mind drifted the most.
She'd lie in bed and imagine a boy with messy hair and a book in his hand, waiting for her under a guava tree.
Sometimes in her dreams, he would call out her name.
Sometimes... she'd see his eyes again — older now, just like hers — and for a split second, he would remember her too.
Then she'd wake up.
Back in the same bed, in the same orphanage, in the same silence.
But she never gave up.
Not on him.
Not on herself.
Not even when everyone else forgot.
---
She promised herself:
When she left the orphanage…
She would build a life worth remembering.
Not just for her.
But for the boy who once made a pinky promise beneath the rain.
---
End of Chapter 2
To be continued...