The Cost of Goodbye

Film Rachanun sat in her spacious New York penthouse, the glow of her phone casting an eerie light across her face. Beyond the tall windows, the city lights stretched endlessly, but her attention remained fixed on the screen in her hand. As she scrolled through Instagram, her mood darkened with each swipe.

Then she saw it—a post from Namtan. Well, technically, a repost from Oaey, the girl Namtan referred to as her "friend." The photo showed Namtan and Oaey nestled together on a cozy couch, their arms casually brushing in an inviting, intimate setting. Namtan held a steaming mug of coffee while Oaey beamed beside her. The caption read: "Catching up with the topnotcher over coffee and cookies! So proud of you, Namtan!" followed by a flurry of celebratory emojis.

Film's jaw tightened, her eyes locked on the image. This wasn't Namtan's home—she recognized that much. The atmosphere felt too intimate, too... Oaey.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, tossing her phone onto the couch in frustration.

From across the room, Kiera, her manager, arched an eyebrow. "Okay, what's with the stormy face?" she asked, striding over with a glass of wine in hand. She perched on the armrest of the couch, glancing down at Film's phone. "Ooh, what are we obsessively stalking now?"

Film rolled her eyes but stayed silent. Before she could protest, Kiera snatched the phone from the couch and examined the post. A teasing smile played on her lips. "Ah, Namtan. And a very pretty girl," she said, handing the phone back. Film grabbed it with more force than intended. "They look good together, don't you think?" Kiera added with a playful lilt.

Film shot her another eye roll, but Kiera smirked and pressed on. "Feeling a little jealous, are we?"

"Jealous?" Film scoffed, voice laced with disdain."Hardly. I just find it fascinating how quickly Namtan moved on after practically confessing her feelings for me. That's all."

Kiera tilted her head, scrutinizing Film."Right, fascinating. Because it's not like you let go of a brilliant topnotcher lawyer or anything. Not like you told her it wouldn't work because you 'hate' her." Her tone was light but brimming with knowing amusement.

Film glared. "That's not what happened. I didn't let her go because I hate her. It was more complicated than that."

"Oh, of course. Complicated. Like how you were too scared to admit you actually cared, so you thought pushing her away would be easier?" Kiera took a slow sip of her wine, clearly enjoying herself.

"Can we not do this right now?" Film grumbled, sinking into the cushions. "I'm not jealous. Oaey's just... always been around. I think, they're old friends catching up."

Kiera raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. So if you're not jealous, why do you look like you're about to burn a hole through that post? Face it, Film. You still have feelings for Namtan, and seeing her with someone else is driving you crazy."

Film fell silent, her gaze drifting back to the phone. The picture was innocent enough—two friends sharing a sweet moment—but it ignited something deep within her that she was reluctant to confront. Was it jealousy? Or regret?

You know," Kiera continued, "it's not too late to reach out. Tell her how you really feel. You're in New York now, yeah, but planes exist. You could fly back, surprise her. Fix things."

Film sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's not that simple. I don't even know if she'd want to hear from me. I told her I hoped our paths wouldn't cross again. And besides, she looks... happy."

"Happy doesn't mean she's moved on," Kiera said gently. "You don't know what's going on in her head. Maybe she's waiting for you to make the first move."

"Or maybe she's done with me," Film murmured. "I was the one who hurt her, pushed her away... I'm not exactly in a position to call or reach out."

Kiera sighed, placing her glass down with a soft clink. "Look, I get it—you're scared. Scared that you'll mess up her life or drag her down. But does it look like her life is ruined? She topped the bar exam, for god's sake! You can't keep running from this. If you really care about her, you owe it to yourself—and to her—to at least try. You've been in love with Faye the entire time I've known you. You were, and yet you did nothing about it. You dated people, but no one came close to Faye. You never even opened up or had a serious relationship with anyone. It has always been Faye. Then, she moved on, and you let her go. And now, when you finally open yourself up to liking or loving someone else—someone other than Faye—you let her go, too. When are you going to start fighting for what you really want, Film?"

Film didn't respond right away. She turned her gaze toward the city skyline, her mind swirling with emotions. Kiera was right, of course. She had pushed Namtan away because of fear—fear that she'd complicate her life, disrupt her relationships, especially with Faye's family, who meant so much to Namtan. Film didn't know much about Namtan's biological family, but she knew how deeply connected Namtan was to Faye's. The thought of jeopardizing that bond terrified her, so she did what she thought was best—she ran. And in doing so, she hurt the person she cared about most.

But seeing that post stirred something deep inside her. Maybe it was jealousy. Maybe it was regret. Or maybe it was something far more profound: the realization that she had never stopped caring.

"I don't know," Film said quietly. "What if it's too late?"

"There's only one way to find out," Kiera replied. "But sitting here, brooding over Instagram posts, isn't going to get you anywhere. You've always been brave, Film. Don't let fear hold you back now."

Film gave a small, humorless laugh. "Brave, huh? I don't feel very brave right now."

"Bravery isn't about not being scared," Kiera said, standing up. "It's about doing something even when you are. So, what's it going to be? Are you going to sit here and sulk, or are you going to try and do what will make you happy?"

Film stared at her phone one more time. The picture of Namtan and Oaey blurred slightly as her grip tightened around the device. Maybe Kiera was right. Maybe it wasn't too late. But if she wanted a chance to make things right, she would have to act fast.

"I'll think about it," Film said at last.

Kiera smiled knowingly. "Good. Just don't take too long. You might not get another chance."

As Kiera walked away, Film remained seated, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. She didn't know what she would do next, but one thing was certain—she couldn't ignore how she felt any longer. Whether it was fear, jealousy, or something deeper, it was time to face it head-on.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to fight for Namtan.

Because heaven knows how much she had wanted to reach out to Namtan when she found out she topped the bar exam. She had wanted to congratulate her, to tell her how incredibly proud she was, but she knew—she didn't have the right. Not after everything. Not after the way she had walked away. And even if she did have the right, she lacked the courage. What would she even say? Would Namtan want to hear from her?

Almost two months had passed, but the memories hadn't faded. The kiss still lingered in her mind, vivid and electric, as if it had just happened yesterday. She could still feel the warmth of Namtan's touch—the way her fingertips had brushed through her hair so gently, the way her hands had clasped hers, steadying her trembling fingers. And the way Namtan had looked at her... as if she was something precious, something irreplaceable, her lifeline in a chaotic world.

It was that gaze that haunted Film the most. No matter how much time passed, no matter how many miles separated them, she couldn't forget the depth in Namtan's eyes. Eyes that had held so much love, trust, and quiet strength—strength that Film had never believed she deserved. She had pulled away because she feared she would ruin everything, but now, she wondered if running had been the greater mistake.

Every day since then, she had fought the urge to text or call, to bridge the gap she had created. But each time, doubt and guilt held her back. Would Namtan still want to hear from her? Or had she moved on—left those memories behind, just as Film had tried to convince herself to do?

Film closed her eyes, breathing deeply, willing herself to push away the longing that surged within her. But it was no use. The past was alive in her, refusing to be buried.

"She probably hates me now," she muttered under her breath. Yet, even as she said it, a part of her whispered, But what if she doesn't? What if she's waiting, too?

And that thought, fragile as it was, stayed with her, flickering like a faint, stubborn flame she didn't know how to extinguish.

---

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over New York City as Film sat in the backseat of her car, idly scrolling through her phone while waiting for traffic to clear. The streets were bustling with people, tourists mingling with locals, the city alive with its usual chaotic charm. She wasn't paying much attention to her surroundings until something caught her eye—a familiar figure walking down the sidewalk.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Namtan.

Film blinked, unsure if her mind was playing tricks on her. She leaned forward, peering through the tinted window, her eyes locking on the woman walking just a few feet away. It looked like Namtan. The same graceful stride, the same dark, silky hair cascading over her shoulders. But what was she doing in New York?

Two weeks ago, Film had seen a post on Instagram—a picture of Namtan and Oaey, cozy and smiling in what looked like Oaey's living room. It had stirred something deep inside her, but she had convinced herself that Namtan was still in the Philippines. There had been no indication she was coming to New York. Yet here she was, walking down Fifth Avenue, about to enter a restaurant.

And she wasn't alone.

There was a girl beside her—someone Film didn't recognize. The girl was petite, with shoulder-length hair and an effortlessly chic style that made her look like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. They seemed comfortable together, talking and laughing. Film blinked and pinched herself, half-expecting the vision to vanish. But no—it was really her.

A sudden urge surged through her to get out of the car, to reach her before she disappeared again. But the vehicle began moving slowly, and the crowded streets outside made it impossible for her to simply step out unnoticed. Film wasn't just anyone; she was a public figure, and walking through a busy street without preparation was out of the question. She only had her PA and one bodyguard with her—hardly enough to keep the crowd at bay.

Still, the fear of losing sight of Namtan gnawed at her. "Stop the car," she said abruptly, her voice tight with urgency.

Her driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, puzzled. "Ms. Film, we're stuck in traffic. I can't just stop here, but I'll find a place to pull over."

Her PA, sensing the tension, gently took Film's hand. "What's going on?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

"I think I saw someone," Film murmured, her eyes still locked on the restaurant where Namtan had just entered.

"Film," her PA said cautiously, "you can't just get down here. People will mob you."

Film shook her head, frustration building. "Can you find me something to wear? A cap, sunglasses—anything."

Her PA quickly rummaged through her bag but looked up with an apologetic expression. "I think I packed them with your dresses in the back of the car. I'm sorry."

Film's heart sank as she watched Namtan and the girl disappear inside the restaurant. She exhaled shakily, nodding hesitantly. "It's okay... no need to stop. We can go now."

She leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes as her chest tightened. It was hard to breathe, the weight of regret pressing down on her. She whispered a silent prayer. "Lord, let me see her again. Please."