ღHello, Exღ

It’s been twelve hours and five minutes.

Twelve hours since we broke up—and somehow, I’ve been counting. I don’t even know why I’m still this affected.

Everything seemed fine.

I was eating well. Sleeping okay.

But then, out of nowhere, I’d think of him.

It felt like catching a sudden illness. Unwelcome. Unplanned. But it doesn’t matter anymore. There’s no more “us.” No more new chapter in our love story.

Our story is over.

The ending? Heartbreaking. He was the one who ended it. Just because, apparently, he never loved me. Screw that. I despise you, Mhyko. You and that snake you’re with now.

“Cyline?!” Cyrus called out to me. He’s in France now, studying music. He already knew about what happened between me and Mhyko. He knew from the beginning but didn’t tell me—afraid it might just be a misunderstanding.

He was the one who picked me up yesterday after I left the café. He had been waiting outside after dropping his best friend home.

That whole ride, he didn’t say a word. He let me cry in his car. He drove in silence. He let me scream, break down. And that’s what I love about him—he doesn’t force advice on me. He doesn’t fix me. He just lets me fall apart when I need to, then waits for me to calm down. That, for me, is comfort.

He’s just like Mom when it comes to things like this. The kind of comfort that doesn’t involve words, just presence. Someone who simply sits beside you to remind you that you’re not alone. Only when you’re ready will they finally speak—and when they do, their words feel like they could wipe your sadness away.

Dad? He’s a bit different. When he's upset, he just eats spaghetti. Says it's his comfort food—what Grandma used to cook for him whenever he was feeling down. He doesn’t drink, or break things in rage. He hates chaos in the house.

Unlike me, the wild one. I scream until my voice breaks. Cry until my tears run dry. But now… I’m not crying anymore. Maybe just a little sad. But I’m okay.

“You’re feeling sentimental again, aren’t you? Still not over him?” Cyrus asked over the phone.

“Cyrus, he just broke up with me yesterday. How do you expect me to move on overnight? Please, just this once—let me miss him. Just once. Maybe twice,” I pleaded.

I opened my laptop and called him via video chat. He picked up. Still wearing his sling bag—he must’ve just arrived at his condo.

“Cyline,” he said, “there’s no point in trying anymore. Let go. Move on. He’s not worth it. You were the only one in that relationship who mattered.”

Maybe he's right. There’s no point in trying.

I’ll cry by myself. I’ll deal with the pain on my own.

“It’s a sickness that isn’t even a real sickness,” he said. “It’ll pass. You’ll be okay, sis. Trust me. You can do this.”

It will be okay.

Even if I’m the only one hurting.

I will forget you—slowly, but surely.

I keep telling myself that. Over and over again.

It’s been a year since we broke up. That love story? It ended. I’m not part of his world anymore.

Rumors started spreading—ones I didn’t want to believe. Our former classmates whispered that he never really loved me. That someone else was always in his heart. Why do they care so much? I wanted to slap them with the pain I felt just so they’d understand how cruel it is to gossip about someone else’s heartbreak.

They talked about his love story. One that clearly didn’t involve me. A story that sounded so dreamy and romantic—yet made me sick to my stomach. Their love story was nothing like mine.

My love story? It got wrecked like Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball.” Completely shattered.

There will be no us anymore.

Four years later…

Now, I’m a professional model under my aunt’s company, MCYL. It’s a company that covers everything—news, entertainment, even charity work, especially for people with heart conditions like my brother. My aunt started it after Cyrus was diagnosed, with Mom overseeing all the major events.

Sometimes, other photographers call me for shoots and magazine features. I never decline—it helps relieve my stress. I love being in the spotlight, hearing the crowd cheer, watching people admire and adore me. It’s an amazing feeling.

I revamped my whole fashion style thanks to Aunt Lyla—former model, now CEO of MCYL. She taught me everything I know.

I’ve changed.

From my hairstyle to my makeup, even the way I walk in heels and short skirts—people can’t help but stare.

I threw away the ring he gave me. Burned every letter he ever wrote.

No more attachments.

No regrets.

I’ve forgotten him.

One of the biggest reasons for my strength? Cyrus. Supporting his treatments is my top priority now. I erased Mhyko from my heart completely. I tore the pages of our memories from my storybook.

He probably still wears the clothes I bought for him. Maybe still uses the cologne I gave him on his birthday. And now, he’s probably with that girl—laughing without a care in the world. They fit, honestly. Two worthless people who deserve each other.

But I will show him.

I’ll be happier without him. I won’t cry. I won’t fall apart.

I didn’t even realize I had driven here.

What am I doing?

How ironic—of all places, I ended up here. The same café where he broke up with me.

Then again… I’m starving. I just finished shopping and needed a snack. Aunt Lyla gave me the freedom to pick out outfits for our next shoot so the stylists won’t have a hard time coordinating themes.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the guard greeted. I smiled politely and looked for a seat.

And as fate would have it—the two people who once broke my heart were there. Sitting at the same spot that mysterious stranger once sat four years ago, the one who silently watched me cry.

They looked like they were going strong. Good for them.

But God, they were such an eyesore.

Still, I wasn’t bitter anymore. I held my head high and walked past them with grace.

And when I got right in front of them?

I gave them the most dazzling smile I could muster. Passed their stunned faces with a click of my heels and a smirk on my lips.

Good job, me.

ღTo Be Continuedღ