Graduation day had finally come. Angelica's little sister had her ceremony in the morning, and Angelica's was scheduled for the afternoon. The joy of the day was bittersweet for Angelica.
During her sister's morning graduation, the family proudly handed her a beautiful bouquet. Angelica watched quietly, feeling the familiar sting of being overlooked. But her sister's heart was full of love.
After her own ceremony in the afternoon, Angelica was surprised when her sister approached her with the bouquet. "Here," she said softly, "I want you to have this." Tears pricked Angelica's eyes, and she hugged her tightly, grateful for the simple, pure kindness.
Later, their mother suggested they go to a restaurant to celebrate Angelica's graduation. Before heading there, Angelica made a quiet detour to the cemetery to visit their father's grave. "Pa," she whispered, "I graduated. I hope you're proud of me."
Feeling the weight of her father's absence and the challenges she'd faced, Angelica found a moment of peace before facing the rest of the day.
She arrived at the restaurant her mother had mentioned—Planaxis—but waited for two long hours with no sign of her family.
A heavy rain began to fall, and the shop owner kindly invited her inside to get out of the storm. Angelica declined politely, not wanting to intrude.
Her tears mixed with the raindrops as she nervously pulled out her phone to call her mother. In her trembling hands, she dialed the wrong number and reached Michael instead.
"I've been waiting here for two hours, Mom. Where are you? Did I come to the wrong place? It clearly says Planaxis," she sobbed.
On the other end, Michael's heart clenched. Without hesitation, he grabbed an umbrella and dashed into the rain to find her.
The rain fell harder as Michael hurried toward Planaxis, his umbrella barely shielding him from the storm. His heart ached knowing Angelica was out here, waiting alone and drenched.
When he finally reached her, she stood by the entrance, shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back tears.
"How did you…?" she stammered. "Why are you here?" she asked softly, her voice trembling. "How did you know I was here?"
"You called me," he said, guiding her inside. His palm hovered at her back, not quite touching. "And you're shivering." Seeing him, she blinked in surprise.
Michael gave a small, reassuring smile. "When you called, even though you dialed my number by mistake, I knew something was wrong. I'm not going to let you stay out here alone in the rain."
He opened his umbrella wider and gently took her hand. "Come with me. Let's get you inside."
Relieved, Angelica allowed him to guide her inside the warm, dry restaurant. Michael found a quiet corner, wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, and held her hand gently.
"My mother said we'd be eating here," Angelica explained quietly, "so I came… but she didn't show up. Maybe because of the rain… or maybe she forgot. Maybe they're still celebrating Sunshine's graduation at home."
Michael met her gaze with quiet determination. "You matter, Angelica. Every day—not just today."
For the first time in a long time, Angelica felt truly seen. The hurt and loneliness eased slightly under Michael's unwavering presence.
They sat together in comfortable silence, his hand holding hers—a promise she would never face the storm alone.
Michael caught the waiter's attention and quietly ordered two plates of Angelica's favorite dishes, hoping to lift her spirits. The warm scent of the food soon filled the small corner they occupied, adding a bit of comfort to the cold, damp evening.
As they waited, Michael looked at Angelica with a sincere expression. "Congratulations, Angelica. You did it—you graduated, with honors at that. I'm so proud of you."
A soft smile lifted her lips, touching her eyes. "Thank you"
"I'm sorry I couldn't make it to your graduation today," he continued softly. "I was caught up with some things I couldn't postpone."
Angelica shook her head quickly, not wanting him to feel guilty. "It's okay. I understand. You have your own battles too."
"No," Michael insisted gently. "I should've been there for you. You deserve that much—and more."
Her eyes shimmered with a mix of sadness and gratitude. "Just being here now… it means a lot."
Michael smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I'll make it up to you. This is just the beginning."
They shared a quiet moment, the soft clatter of plates and distant chatter around them creating a calm backdrop. Despite the day's hardships, a gentle hope began to stir between them.
After we finished eating, we stepped outside. Michael looked at me, and I looked back at him. I whimpered, "I don't want to go home! I want to disappear!"
"Then why don't you live with me?" he said gently. "My parents love you, and I promise I won't do anything to make you uncomfortable."
I stared at him for a moment, torn. I wanted to live with him and his family—but that would mean losing the battle of ego in my own house.
"No! That won't do, Maykii," I said stubbornly. "I don't want them to win. I'll go home and make them uncomfortable with my presence."
We looked at each other, then laughed softly.
Our houses weren't far apart, so we walked home together. When we reached his place, he hugged me tightly.
"Good luck," he whispered. "Don't let them defeat you. I'm always here by your side. I love you."
I hugged him back, feeling the warmth of his words. "Thank you," I said.
He watched me walk toward my house. Just before I entered, I overheard their voices inside. My brother said, "I will not support her studies anymore. I bet when she becomes a professional she won't help you all anyway!"
I clenched my fists, but I wasn't surprised. I had expected this. Then my mother's voice caught me off guard. "I have no means to let her take college too."
I was about to cry when my sister's husband called for me. I followed them and saw my ninong standing there. He called me close and asked, "Where will you study?"
"WMSU," I answered.
"Are you a scholar?" he asked.
"Yes."
He hesitated, then said, "I want to support your studies, but your family says you're stubborn and no good. Still, take this money as congratulations for graduating."
His words pierced me like knives. The voices inside my head screamed, How can they say such lies? How can they tarnish my name with lies? I had let them control me for years—and this is what I get?
Tears streamed down my face as I reached out silently to take the money, trembling with a mixture of sadness and frustration. I retreated to my room, shutting the door behind me, and cried without a sound. The ache inside was unbearable. In the depths of my despair, I took a blade and sliced my wrist. I didn't feel pain—only the hot sting of blood running down my arm. I pulled at my hair and punched my own body, overwhelmed by the weight of everything.
How could they do this to me? I'm only seventeen—too young to bear such cruelty.
After that, I passed out quietly, my family didn't even know what's happening. They don't care.
For a whole week, I skipped meals and avoided my phone. I was sure Michael was waiting—waiting for my call, my message. I missed him terribly.
One morning, something stirred inside me. I couldn't stay hidden any longer.
I stepped out of my room and found the house empty. My family was packing, preparing to go to the beach. They hadn't invited me, hadn't left any food or even money.
I watched as they left without a care. The dishes were piled up, and the house was a mess—they didn't bother to clean.
So, I did.
Later, I checked my phone. There were missed calls and messages from Michael.
"Good morning, let's go to our spot?"
"Have you eaten? I'm worried."
"Angel, are you okay?"
"It's been a week—please reply."
"Come to my place once you read these—I'll cook your favorite food."
His words broke through the loneliness. I fell to my knees and cried, whispering, "Yes, I still have him. I need to see him. I want to see him. I miss him."
I took a shower, tidied myself up, and went to his house.
The gate was locked. He wasn't there.
I sat in front of the gate and waited.
I hadn't eaten in a week. Weakness weighed down my body, and the scorching sun threatened to make me pass out. Just as I felt my strength fading, a shadow fell over me.
I looked up and saw Michael. His face was sad, on the verge of tears. He looked at me with compassion and worry, his eyes reflecting the pain he felt seeing me like this.
He reached out his hand gently. "What are you doing here? You should've called me," he said softly.
"I thought you'd be here," I whispered.
He studied me, concern furrowing his brow. "You look so thin…"
"I haven't eaten for a week," I admitted, voice barely audible.
His eyes widened, and his grip on my wrist tightened. "What do you mean? Let's talk inside."
I nodded, thankful for his presence, and allowed him to guide me inside.
Once inside, he noticed the jacket I was wearing. "Why are you wearing that? It's so hot outside."
I hesitated before rolling up my sleeve to show him the fresh cuts. His face turned pale.
He didn't say a word — he just stood and began preparing some food. Soon, he came back with the meal and some clean t-shirts along with a first aid kit.
"Eat this," he urged gently. "Then change your clothes. I'll get you some milk."
I obeyed, changing into the fresh shirt as he watched over me carefully. When I finished eating, he carefully tended to my wounds, his hands trembling slightly.
"Why?" he asked quietly, voice breaking.
"What?" I replied, confused.
"Why did you hurt yourself?" he urged, his own pain breaking through.
I saw tears glistening in his eyes as he trembled. My heart clenched with guilt.
"I told you I'm always here for you. But you starved yourself and hurt yourself. Don't you trust me? If your family won't support you, I will... I…"
I wrapped my arms around him tightly. "I'm sorry. I was depressed. I didn't want to burden you with my problems."
He touched my shoulders gently, looking deeply into my eyes. "You are not a burden. I will help you through this—no matter what. But please, promise me you'll never do this again."
He placed my hand on his cheek and kissed it softly.
"I'm sorry. I promise I won't."