CHAPTER 8

Eric lives in Singapore with his mother and is currently on vacation here. After his parents' bitter divorce, he chose to stay with his mother, who is the elder sister of Tita Cecile. They left his American father in the United States, where Eric was born and raised.

When his mother remarried a Frenchman and had a son with him, their relationship started to strain. This change in family dynamics deeply affected Eric, making him more withdrawn and elusive.

Then, a woman came into his life—Cindy Nurdyasah Hermann, a Dutch-Indonesian model. They met at a photo shoot for a fashion magazine in Singapore, where Eric worked as a freelance photographer. There were sparks between them from the moment they met, eventually leading to dating and living together.

Cindy helped Eric cope with his tumultuous life; he thought they had an "almost perfect relationship." However, an incident occurred that fundamentally altered their relationship. Cindy suddenly left him in Singapore without explaining why. When he followed her to Jakarta, he discovered the painful truth: Cindy was pregnant, and the father was her childhood friend. She ended their three-year relationship right in front of him, at the doorstep of the house where the man who had impregnated her lived. Eric didn't cause a scene because that's not who he is, and besides, Cindy had already made her choice.

He left Jakarta, but the painful experience stayed with him, even now that he is in the Philippines.

I watched Eric's face as he finished his story. His voice still trembled, and his eyes, glistening with unshed tears, stared vacantly ahead.

When a relationship ends, we often underestimate the depth of the pain, unable to accept that it's truly over. A relationship is like a drug; when it ends, there's a kind of withdrawal. Our hearts continue to long for it, even though we know it's slowly losing touch with who we are.

As he poured out all the pain from his heart, it became clear he had kept this inside, not sharing it with anyone. "How do you feel now?" I asked gently.

"It still hurts like I'm worthless," he sobbed, his eyebrows furrowed with emotion. "I couldn't even fight for Cindy."

I took out my journal and began to write. After a breakup, we often experience low self-esteem. Regret consumes us, and we tend to blame ourselves. "Are you still hoping Cindy will come back to you?"

He wiped his face with his hands. "There's no hope. She made her decision. There's nothing to go back to."

"Did anything change in you when she left?"

"I feel like I've failed in everything."

I knew I shouldn't pry, but I wanted to understand his feelings. Trying to lighten the mood, I changed the subject. "Let's talk about something else. Tell me about photography."

He stared at me for a long moment before answering. "Photography is my passion. I can't explain the joy it brings me."

"Now tell me, was there a difference in your photography before Cindy came into your life and after she left?"

"I guess I was more inspired when she came," he sighed, wiping away tears. "But I'm happy at both times."

"If you enjoy photography with or without Cindy, you should pursue your passion. If you believe you have value in that profession," I explained, "Even if Cindy is no longer in your life, your dreams are still there. Stick to them and master your craft. That's what you first loved, right?"

Self-connection: we need to return to ourselves. Eric's handsome face changed again, his cheeks reddening. He looked down at the carpet on the floor.

"But my mom is against it. Thankfully, my Tita supports me."

"Then prove her wrong! That's how our parents are. If you succeed in your career, she will eventually accept it. And your Tita, she's helpful. Surround yourself with people who support you."

A beautiful smile returned to his lips. "Do you have samples of your work?" I asked.

"I have some on my phone," he said, lifting his iPhone and browsing through it. He showed it to me. Now, he was calm.

Adverse reactions are inevitable in a breakup, and that's where we sometimes lose in a game of love. I took Eric's iPhone and browsed through it. "I don't know much about visual art, but you didn't make a mistake choosing your profession, Mr. Ross."

As I browsed, I came across a photo. My eyes widened—it was a stolen shot of me at Binurong Point. So, he had taken a picture of me, I said to myself. I looked at him briefly before returning to the photo, my brow furrowed. I wanted to feel creeped out but found myself instead feeling flattered. I browsed through his iPhone again, pretending I didn't see the picture, and returned it to him. I adjusted my sitting position.

"Don't call yourself useless and a loser, Mr. Ross. Sometimes, there's a line between our career and personal lives. We may lose important people, but our dreams will always be our best companion."

I suddenly stopped talking and stared into the distance, recalling a similar moment from my past.

***

"Why didn't you tell me?" I burst out at Hector. We sat together on the lower bunk bed, alone in his dormitory. "Why did I have to hear it from someone else?"

"Because I knew it would only hurt you!" Hector rubbed his palms together, a habit he had when he was tense. "See, you're already crying."

I used to be so immature, thinking I was the only one Hector needed to understand. I refused to listen to his explanation. "Fine, go ahead and leave me. I don't want you anymore. You're so unfair."

He wiped his face with his hands and tried to wrap his arms around me, but I pushed him away, tears streaming down my face. It wasn't just anger I felt; I also felt scared – scared of losing him.

"Please, listen," he said, holding my shoulders and trying to make me look at him. "Promise me you'll still pursue your dreams when I'm no longer here. Finish your studies. I'm here for you, even if I'm far away. I won't abandon you."

But my mind wouldn't accept it. Hector would still leave me all alone here. "I don't care! Find someone else to talk to. Don't ever see me again."

I grabbed my black backpack and stormed out, leaving him alone. Looking back, I saw him messing up his hair in frustration. He always did that when he was upset. It was good for him; he deserved it. I was furious that he was leaving the country without telling me.

***

"How can I let go of the pain?" Eric asked, pulling me back to the present.

"Just let it run its course," I replied. "Pain has a timeline, Eric. Soon enough, your heart will tell you it's time to let go. So, don't give up on your dreams just because of this."

I chuckled to myself. Deep down, I knew there was a timeline for pain, but I still wondered why, in my case, it seemed to last forever.

Our session lasted an hour. Before we ended, I gave Eric something. "I'm giving you this pen and notepad," I said. "I want you to write in it when you get home."

Eric scratched his head. "Seriously? Homework?"

I laughed at his reaction. "No, you'll be drawing your conclusions. Did you realize something? What will be your plan after this? Then please return next week and read it to me. Is that okay with you?"

"I'll do it if it pleases you. Thank you."

Dusk had already settled, and I would go home in a few hours. I ended my session with Eric and started writing in my journal. I searched for more information about his case, feeling hopeful about his situation. He's handsome and could find someone new, even if it's just a rebound. But he needs to sort himself out first.

I laughed to myself, remembering the picture of me on his iPhone. Was he interested in me? But I didn't want to assume. A rush of excitement flickered in me, but it quickly disappeared as I remembered something else.

***

"Mommy, why didn't you go to school?" Hector stood at my room's door, worry etched on his face. I had been crying all day, lying face down on my bed, sulking.

"I accidentally deleted my report on my USB. It's due tomorrow," I said, not wanting to talk to him. "I don't want to do this anymore. I will fail; I might not even finish this semester."

"Get up from there. I thought something serious had happened," Hector said, turning me to look at him.

I got annoyed with him again. "How could you talk to me like that? What if this happened to you?"

He surprised me by suddenly coming closer and lying on my back as I lay face down. His weight irritated me even more.

"Daddy, get off me!" I protested while trying to wriggle free. It felt like we were in a wrestling match.

"I'm not getting off until you get up," he whispered. "You're acting insane over something like this. You can redo it. Hello?"

"Are you okay? It took me three days to work on that report."

"Mommy, I'm here. Let's work on it overnight so you can submit it tomorrow. Get up so we can start."

I get up lifelessly on my bed. I was so drained from what had happened. I felt a sense of despair akin to a child who had lost a beloved toy—a situation far more severe than that. But Hector just kept laughing while watching me.

He sat on the bed and faced me. He wiped the tears from my eyes. I couldn't move because I felt so low at that moment.

"Mommy, don't give up just because of a mistake that can be fixed," he explained, puffing his lower eyelid. "Remember, our dreams don't end with one stumble. We have many more challenges to face, so keep fighting. I'm with you."

His words echoed in my mind, and I felt a new strength rise within me. I took a deep breath, grounding myself in the present. My eyes fell on the journal on the table, its pages now marked by tears. I wiped it away, feeling the coldness of the tear against my warm cheek. With a firm nod, I reminded myself to keep going, a mix of sadness and determination filling my heart.

"Yes, Hector, I will always remember that."