Some people believe that writing diaries was the embodiment of their deepest secrets they couldn’t speak aloud, or truths they couldn’t bring themselves to express. 

Perhaps every page of it holds a piece of the heart, quietly waiting to be found, understood, and accepted…while it still can. 

***

No matter where you are, no matter how fate tries to keep us apart, from that day until now, you have remained in my heart—and I will never, ever forget you. Forever. 

Nagmamahal (Yours lovingly), Juan

***

Lightning split the sky above the Hawthornes' Estate in Suffolk. A young man, having lost his way back to his room, paused when he noticed a door left slightly ajar to his left, a dim light spilling from within. 

Curious, he forgot the mansion’s one unspoken rule: never leave your room when the clock strikes at midnight. 

Dismissing such old beliefs, he stepped inside. Blinded by darkness, his foot caught on something―a weathered book lying on the floor. Yet the room felt neither cold nor eerie, but strangely familiar, as though he was meant to find it.

And so, he opened it―

My Dearest Juan,

By the time you read this, time has already passed. 

Through those times of loneliness, I couldn’t bear the fact that I chose to save my life over yours. 

I was selfish, and I am forever unforgivable. So never, forgive me. 

But, before everything else would disappear, there were things I couldn’t let go…just yet.

He felt a strange pull as he read it, as if every word written was meant for him. He winced. The room was murky, thick with dust, and musty as it aged. Yet he continued to read―

My dear Juan, have you ever believed in the old tales that at midnight, strange things appear just beyond our sight? 

They say spirits lingered, bound by unfinished business and yearning to escape the darkness. My old folks believed this long ago, and even today, that belief stays quietly within us.

When you face a timeworn mirror while holding a lit white candle, and whisper your heart’s desire, fate would come to you in the most mysterious ways.

Have you ever tried it? 

Because I did―

Your Beloved, 

Mathias

It was the only page inscribed with words in the timeworn diary, as if it had slumbered for centuries. The faded letters clung to the paper like ghosts. With a thumping, confused heart, he turned the pages until the very last piece of the weathered paper, almost as an afterthought, which was written as: 366 days.

Without realizing…he was already facing the antique mirror with another man’s reflection. 

Let’s go back to three months and fifteen days ago―