Prologue

CLARA

Hector...

Everything started on Valentine's Day in 2004, during my third year of high school.

In the middle of class, Hector texted me, suggesting we meet after school. I declined, but my eyes widened when he waved my missing history reaction paper across the room. I had been searching for it all morning, convinced I had left it home. From his seat, he grinned and subtly waved the paper. Fury surged through me, but I felt powerless. That paper meant everything; I wanted to be the first in our class to submit it. His final text was clear: he'd only return it if I met him after school.

All day, I shot him glances, my eyebrows furrowed in frustration. He insisted that nobody in class should know about our meeting. Hector had always been troublesome. Tomorrow, I swear, I'll report him to our adviser.

Back then, Hector was my classmate. Despite his mischievous nature, he was admired by nearly all the girls and queer students on campus. Even I harbored a crush on him. I couldn't understand why I fell for his easy deception. His antics often targeted me, leaving me bewildered by his motives.

As the last bell rang and the classroom emptied, I double-checked to ensure everyone had left. Hector was nowhere to be seen, likely already at our rendezvous spot. Determined, I hurried out and made my way to the quadrangle, my fists clenched tightly. This time, I had enough of his jokes. He better be ready for me; this was going to end.

Walking along the school corridors, I was surrounded by red heart-shaped cutouts decorating every wall. A Valentine's Day program had been held earlier, but I didn't attend. Such events never interested me; I preferred staying in the classroom to work on assignments. Besides, I had no friends at school back then, so it didn't feel like a loss.

It was 6 o'clock, and the campus was nearly deserted. The darkening sky made me even more nervous, and my annoyance with Hector grew. If only I could go home and report him to Dad, who would come here. But that wasn't feasible. I needed my reaction paper. Why did he have to do this now? I felt tears welling up, but I fought them back. Hector was going too far this time, and I needed to show anger, not weakness. I had to be brave and make him stop. He had bullied me for years.

As I arrived at the quadrangle, the sky had turned a warm orange. My 3310 phone rang. It was Hector calling. Annoyance flared as I answered, knowing it would be dark soon.

"Oops! Stay where you are," Hector said.

I stood at the edge of the quadrangle and took a deep breath. To my left, plants and trees lined the fence of our campus. My eyes scanned the quiet surroundings, a mix of annoyance and nervousness churning inside me. The silence felt heavy, and I worried the security guard might come by and catch us.

"Clara!" Hector's voice broke the silence. I lowered my 3310 phone and stepped forward, turning my gaze until Hector emerged from behind the old acacia tree a few meters away.

I first noticed the small teddy bear in his right hand and a red rose. In his left hand, he held my reaction paper. Memories of my female classmates receiving red roses earlier flashed in my mind. I hadn't attended the Valentine's Day program, assuming I wouldn't receive anything. But seeing Hector with these gifts, I wondered what he was planning.

I was ready to scold and slap him, but something about his demeanor stopped me. His smile was no longer mischievous, and he seemed sincere. The teddy bear and rose in his hands confused me. Why is he carrying these? I wondered. As he gestured as if to give them to me, I suddenly felt a flutter of excitement.

I suddenly couldn't stand still, almost gripping tightly the strap of my pink backpack. I kept adjusting my plaid skirt uniform, feeling like my whole perspective had shifted. My irritation towards Hector faded because I sensed what he was trying to convey. My heart started beating faster, and I couldn't explain why. Thankfully, our classmates were no longer around; otherwise, I'd be the subject of their teasing tomorrow if they saw us like this. I wouldn't be able to handle that.

"Uh, the reason I wanted to meet you... there's something I need to tell you," Hector said.

His tone was different now, softer. The usual harshness in his voice was gone, so I couldn't look directly at him as he approached me. There was a strange tenderness in his baritone voice. I should have slapped him or snatched my reaction paper from his hand, but I couldn't bring myself.

Just a while ago, the girls and queer students were buzzing about him singing at the Valentine's Day program. Deep inside, I chuckled, remembering how off-key he was. His performance had been terrible, but his confidence had been through the roof.

When we were just inches apart, Hector cleared his throat. "So, um... will you be my girlfriend?" he asked.

His words hung in the air, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

I became even more nervous. Tension wrapped around my mind and body like a tight coil. Hector wants me to be his girlfriend? Yet he had always been mean to me. Maybe his bullying was a twisted way of showing his feelings, trying to get my attention.

Hector handed me the roses, the teddy bear, and my reaction paper. I accepted them, almost speechless. He leaned in close, and I couldn't meet his gaze. His personality became a puzzle, one that was hard to decode.

For the first time, I saw his face up close. The daily annoyance I felt toward him melted away in an instant. My classmates were right to admire him. Hector's eyes were mesmerizing, but the slight puffiness of his lower eyelid made them genuinely captivating. If only I could melt into the ground, just standing there, lost in his eyes.

Without thinking, I stammered, "O...okay."

I closed my eyes, covered my face with my hands, and clutched my skirt. Doubts swirled in my mind. Was this the right choice? Hector didn't speak, and I peeked through my fingers to see him still standing there. I furrowed my brow, staring at his face. At that moment, we both felt the unspoken connection between us.

His face lit up with a smile spread from ear to ear as if he had just won the lottery. "Yes!" he exclaimed, turning away from me and raising his left fist triumphantly. "Yes! Yahoo!"

I watched in astonishment as he ran to the center of the quadrangle and executed a perfect somersault. Laughter bubbled up inside me, and I couldn't hold it back. He stood straight and looked back at me, his eyes excitedly shining.

"Clara! I love you!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the eerie silence of our surroundings.

From a distance, I felt embarrassment and amusement watching Hector spread his arms wide. Memories flooded back, and I recalled how it all started. Hector had liked me for a long time, and when I found out, my life and personality began to change. He introduced me to love, showing me its beautiful colors and joys. He opened my mind and helped me see the world differently.

Hector was my first love; though I didn't know it then, he would also be my last.

I took a deep breath, lost in memories. Suddenly, the tangerine sky above me transformed into a white ceiling. The once vibrant quadrangle vanished, replaced by the quiet stillness of a room filled with shiny epitaphs. Hector's playful voice was now a distant echo.

I returned to the present, realizing I was standing inside a columbarium. It was nine o'clock on a Saturday morning. An older woman stood beside me, both of us staring at an epitaph.

It was Hector's epitaph.

The older woman was Hector's mother, and I had accompanied her on this visit. She had arrived from America just last night. This is the first place she visits whenever she returns to the Philippines. Each visit is a challenge for us. Standing here together, we talk about the happy memories of Hector, trying our best not to cry. But it takes work. The weight of his absence is heavy, and the silence amplifies our shared grief.

"I guess this will be my last visit here, Ara," Mommy Gloria said, her voice heavy with sadness. Despite the thick makeup, the sorrow in her eyes was unmistakable. She looked older than when I last saw her.

"It's okay, Mom. I come here often," I replied, trying to reassure her.

Her eyes remained fixed on Hector's epitaph. "I have to take care of Hector's dad. He became weak and ill after my son died. And I can't lose him either."

"I feel sorry for Dad, but don't worry. I will never stop visiting Hector here. I'll come every day and won't neglect that duty."

Visiting this place on my day off had become a routine. The columbarium was admirable. It was peaceful and spotless, a stark contrast to the turmoil in my heart.

We fell silent for a few minutes until I felt her soft hand squeezing mine.

"Hija, don't you think," she began, taking a deep breath, "It's time for you to move on?"

A sharp pain shot through my chest. I couldn't speak or respond. Tears welled up in my eyes. It's easy for others to say, "Move on," but it's hard when your heart still hurts. I couldn't bear to look her in the eye anymore. Instead, I found myself gazing at Hector's epitaph.

"My son is not selfish; you know him better than I do. I'm sure he has already set you free, wherever he may be now."

I burst into tears and glanced at Mommy Gloria. "He wasn't selfish, Mom. But he was stubborn; why can't I forget him so hard?"

On the verge of breaking down, Mommy Gloria pulled me into a comforting embrace. Even though she wasn't my birth mother and we no longer had any connection after Hector's death, her sincerity and care were palpable. She tried to console me, but I couldn't stop feeling the weight of my grief.

Since Hector's disappearance, I have always felt hurt, suffered, and regretted. I couldn't forget him. The memories he left with me would remain alive—all of them and how we loved each other back then.

Hector would always be my first and last, even though he left me seven years ago.