Chapter 46

A flashbacks........................

Alastair sat alone at the dimly lit corner of the bar, swirling her drink absentmindedly as the buzz of chatter and clinking glasses around her seemed distant, almost deafening. It had been a quiet, agonizing Sunday evening. She had tried to distract herself, but the image of Zaviya and Irfan kept replaying in her mind over and over again.

They were in Singapore, laughing together at a corner restaurant, so effortlessly happy. Alastair’s heart squeezed painfully as she remembered how Irfan had wrapped his arms around Zaviya, that familiar, intimate gesture, as if the years between them hadn’t passed at all. Then, to make matters worse, Irfan had driven her to her hotel, his hand lingering on her waist just a bit too long for Alastair’s comfort.

She clenched her fists, the thought of Irfan with Zaviya, both of them navigating their business deal with such ease, causing a flood of jealousy and insecurity to rise within her. Even though Zaviya was her wife, and they had their own set of complexities, Alastair couldn’t shake the feeling that Irfan’s presence threatened something deeper. She knew, even if she didn’t want to admit it, that he still wanted Zaviya's heart, and that thought gnawed at her relentlessly.

Her vision blurred as she downed another drink, the burn of alcohol easing the sharp ache in her chest for just a moment. She needed to forget, even for a while. She needed a distraction, something—anything—that could make the reality of Irfan's love for Zaviya feel less suffocating.

An hour later, the world around her had started to tilt, the soft glow of the bar lights now casting shadows that danced on the walls. The alcohol was taking its toll, but Alastair wasn’t ready to leave. She needed more. She needed to drown out the thoughts that were threatening to consume her.

That was when the woman approached.

She was tall, impossibly beautiful, with striking blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the haze of alcohol in Alastair’s mind. Her confidence was magnetic, her steps elegant, as though she was walking on air. She flashed a dazzling smile before sitting down beside Alastair, her voice smooth as velvet.

“Why are you here alone?” the woman asked, her eyes scanning Alastair’s face with curiosity, yet there was an undeniable hunger in her gaze. “You shouldn’t be drinking alone. I'm Frankie. What’s bothering you handsome?”

Alastair barely looked at her, the words slurring as she muttered, “I’m fine. Just… just here to think.”

But the woman wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “You sure? Because I think you could use some company,” she said, her voice low and coaxing. She leaned closer, the scent of her perfume intoxicating, and before Alastair could even react, the woman slid onto her lap, pressing herself against her.

The boldness of it startled Alastair for a moment, and she stiffened, pushing the woman back. “Get off,” she snapped, her voice harsh, but the woman only smiled wider, leaning in even closer, her lips hovering just inches away.

“You look like you could use a distraction too,” the woman purred, her hand resting dangerously close to Alastair’s face. “Let me help you forget whatever it is you're running from.”

Alastair recoiled, her heart racing in frustration. She wasn’t looking for this. She didn’t want this. Not with someone like her, someone who couldn’t possibly understand the mess inside her heart. “No,” she muttered, her voice laced with finality, her hands gripping the woman’s shoulders as she shoved her off.

The woman laughed softly, clearly undeterred. “You’re a tough one. I like that.”

But Alastair, feeling a new wave of anger rise within her, stood up abruptly. “Not tonight,” she spat, her words thick with emotion as she stormed out of the bar, the world around her spinning more than before.

She needed to be alone. She needed to think, to escape the constant ache of her own jealousy, the suffocating fear of losing Zaviya.

Driving in a haze of emotion and alcohol, Alastair took a route she had often gone to when she needed solitude—the hilltop overlooking the quiet city. It was isolated, the perfect place to numb herself, where no one could find her, where no one could see the crack in her heart.

She sat in her car, the engine off but the door wide open, the bottles of alcohol beside her as the night crept in. The stars above felt so far away, just like her connection to Zaviya now. She opened one of the bottles, the sharp scent of it filling her nostrils as she took another long, painful drink. She didn’t care anymore. Nothing mattered. Not the world. Not the people who had moved on. Not Irfan’s lingering presence in Zaviya’s life. She just needed the numbness to take over.

The hours passed slowly, the empty bottles piling up beside her, her eyes blurry with tears she refused to acknowledge. Alone. Alone in the silence of the night, with nothing but her own thoughts and regrets to keep her company.

Not long after, with blurry eyes and a mind clouded by the haze of alcohol, Alastair stumbled to her feet. Every movement felt like a struggle, her limbs heavy, yet something inside her—some desperate, stubborn urge—propelled her forward. She was dizzy, disoriented, the surrounding spinning, but there was no stopping the overwhelming need to get to Zaviya’s penthouse. She wasn’t sure why, but she needed to see her.

It felt like hours, but finally, Alastair arrived at Zaviya’s building. By some miracle, despite the drunken haze clouding her every step, she managed to make it inside the elevator, ride it up, and somehow, absentmindedly, found herself standing in front of Zaviya’s door.

She pounded on the door, her fists pounding with a frantic, almost frantic force, desperate for some release. Each knock echoed in the silence of the hallway, yet she barely registered how loud it was. The alcohol had dulled everything except the growing ache in her chest, the longing that never seemed to fade no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.

Her vision blurred as the world around her spun in hazy fragments. Her head throbbed with the aftermath of the alcohol coursing through her veins. She could barely make out the soft, muffled sounds of Zaviya's voice, though the words were indistinct. The room felt unfamiliar, but the warmth of Zaviya's touch anchored her, a steady comfort in the midst of the chaos in her mind.

She blinked, trying to focus, but the disjointed memories floated like scattered leaves. The laughter, the teasing, the intensity of their arguments... all of it now felt like a dream, slipping further and further away.

A sharp, unfamiliar pain in her chest tugged at her, but before she could make sense of it, she realized something far more profound. She was here. In Zaviya’s room. Zaviya, the same woman she had love for years, now standing in front of her, a soft, concerned expression etched on her face.

Zaviya was tending to her like she was fragile, as though Alastair were a delicate thing to be protected. But Alastair wasn’t fragile. She never was.

“What... happened?” Her voice was weak, a mere whisper of what it once was, barely rising above the stillness of the room.

“You were drunk,” Zaviya said gently, her hand brushing a strand of hair from Alastair’s forehead. “I had to bring you back here.”

Alastair's heart thundered, both from the unexpected tenderness and the weight of the situation. Why was Zaviya being so kind? Why did she care so much despite everything?

As the night pressed on, Alastair’s awareness wavered. She was lost in a blur of sensations, the room shifting with every passing moment, every heated breath. Zaviya's touch became an intoxicating lullaby, soothing and pulling at the very core of her being.

Before she could protest, their lips met—hesitant at first, but then urgent, as if they had been waiting for this moment their entire lives. The kiss deepened, and with it, the walls they had so carefully built around each other began to crumble.

Their passion surged, as if every unspoken word, every silent feeling, was finally finding release in this fleeting, forbidden connection. Zaviya’s hands explored her body with an intensity that left Alastair breathless, pulling her closer as if to erase every boundary they had ever known.

They moved across the room in a frantic dance, the sheets tangling around them as they collapsed into each other, lost in the moment, as the rest of the world disappeared.

There were no more words. Just the rhythm of their bodies, the soft whispers of their names, the quiet gasps of pleasure that seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. The hours passed unnoticed, time slipping away, until finally, the first light of morning filtered through the window.

Alastair lay there, her chest heaving, her body spent. Zaviya was beside her, their fingers entwined. But as reality began to settle in, so did the questions. What did this mean? Was it the alcohol? Or something deeper?

But for now, as dawn broke and the world outside continued on, Alastair allowed herself to breathe in the moment, her heart still racing from everything they had just shared.

She didn't know what would come next, but for the first time in a long while, she didn’t want to fight it.

She just wanted to feel Zaviya’s warmth against her own.

The next morning came, and Alastair woke up with a dull throb in her head. A hangover. But as she blinked, trying to clear the haze, a smile tugged at her lips. Her eyes scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, and then, like a puzzle piece snapping into place, she realized where she was. She was in Zaviya’s penthouse.

For a moment, the room felt distant and strange, but a soft warmth filled her chest as she saw the soft sheets tangled around her. The scent of Zaviya’s perfume still lingered in the air. She shifted slightly, her bare skin brushing the sheets, and her heart skipped a beat when she noticed she was alone in the bed. Her cheeks flushed as memories of the night before rushed in. The passion. The connection. The way Zaviya had opened to her, let go, let her in.

Alastair closed her eyes, her heart swelling with something, it was hope. It's been so long since she had  seen this side of Zaviya—soft, vulnerable, and trusting. And it was something Alastair clung to, even as the remnants of alcohol clouded her mind. But that smile was still there, lingering. Hope lingered in her heart.

She reached for the bed, the warmth of it still in her fingers as she tried calling out, “Zaviya?”

There was no answer. The room was silent. The absence of her voice made Alastair's stomach tighten. Her breath hitched as she pushed herself up, her limbs aching slightly from the exertion of last night.

She grabbed her boxers and the oversized white shirt that was nearly folded on the bed and tugged them on hastily. Every movement felt a little sluggish, her head heavy with the remnants of alcohol and the weight of the night. She tried to shake it off and stood up, her feet heavy against the floor as she walked toward the bathroom, the cool tile under her feet grounding her.

She washed up quickly, trying to drown out the worry that was building in her chest. Did Zaviya leave her? Why wasn’t she here? Maybe it was just early. Maybe she needed space. Maybe it wasn’t anything at all, and Alastair was just overthinking.

But still, she couldn’t shake the feeling as she finished her morning routine and stepped outside the room. Her heart began to race, her steps quickening as she moved through the large penthouse, her eyes scanning for the one person who had occupied her thoughts all night.

She finally found her.

Zaviya stood in the living room, her back turned toward Alastair. Her figure was bathed in the soft morning sunlight, but something in her stance made Alastair’s chest tighten. Zaviya’s silhouette was rigid, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if to hold herself together, her gaze lost in the vast expanse of the scenery outside. The light caught the soft curve of her face, but it didn’t soften her expression.

The distance between them felt unbearable. Alastair’s breath caught in her throat as her heart seemed to stop. For all the closeness of last night, here in this moment, Zaviya was an ocean away. And Alastair didn’t know why.

Slowly, tentatively, she stepped forward, unsure of what to say, unsure if anything she said would be enough to bridge the gap she felt widening between them. The silence was deafening, and every step she took felt like it echoed in her chest.

Zaviya didn't turn to face her. Not yet.

Alastair’s voice wavered when she spoke, soft and unsure, “Zaviya?”

Zaviya turned at the sound of her voice, but what Alastair saw stopped her in her tracks. Zaviya's face was a mixture of anguish, fury, and heartbreak, her eyes red-rimmed from crying.

Before Alastair could react, Zaviya strode forward and slapped her hard across the face. The sound echoed in the quiet penthouse, followed by Zaviya's gut-wrenching sobs.

"Walang hiya ka, Alastair!" Zaviya screamed, her voice shaking. "Niloko mo na naman ako! Hanggang kailan mo ako gagaguhin? Tangina! Binigay ko na naman ang sarili ko sayo kagabi! Tapos ano? Ano, Alastair? Winasak mo na naman ako!"

Her fists pounded against Alastair's chest, each blow fueled by her despair.

Alastair froze, stunned and confused. The sting of Zaviya's slap was nothing compared to the hurt in her wife's words. She thought that after their night together, things might change-that they could finally begin to mend what was broken. But now, she felt everything unraveling faster than she could comprehend.

"Zavi, enough, please," Alastair said softly, her hands raised in surrender. "Let's talk. What happened? What did I do?"

Zaviya's laughter was bitter, hollow. "What happened? You're seriously asking me that?" she spat, her voice cracking. "Tangina, Alastair! Paulit-ulit na lang!"

She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and tossed it to Alastair. "Look at that," she said coldly, her voice trembling. "Tignan mo. Sabihin mo kung hindi yan ang iniisip ko."

Alastair caught the phone with shaking hands. Her eyes widened as she looked at the pictures-photos of her at the bar last night. She recognized the moment when a woman had sat on her lap, leaning in far too close. She hesitated before playing the video, and when she did, her breath caught in her throat. It was footage from three years ago-the same incident that had shattered their relationship the first time.

She almost dropped the phone. Her face paled, horror and guilt etched across her features.

"Zaviya, please," Alastair pleaded, her voice trembling. "I can explain. It's not what you think-"

"Explain?!" Zaviya's voice broke, her sobs uncontrollable. "Sige, sabihin mo. Hindi ba ikaw 'yan? Malinaw na malinaw, Alastair. Ikaw ang nasa larawan, ikaw ang nasa video. Anong itatanggi mo pa?"

Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, crumbling under the weight of her pain. "Ano bang kasalanan ko? Bakit ganito na lang lagi? Am I not enough for you? Am I not attractive for you to find other women and slept with them? Alastair? Tangina. Paulit-ulit ang sakit na binibigay mo. Pagod na pagod na ako?" she cried, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alastair fell to her knees in front of her, reaching for her wife. "Zaviya, please, makinig ka. That picture-yes, that's me at the bar, but I swear nothing happened! She sat on my lap, but I pushed her away! God knows how many times I rejected her. And that video, I, ahh, wala akong matandaan Zavi. It happened 3 years ago. The same reason why we're like this. I was setted up. Please believe in me. I can't hurt you like that."

"Three years ago, same scenarios Alastair! It keeps on haunting us. When will it stop huh?" Zaviya's voice was raw, every word like a dagger. "You're believing I would buy it. The evidences are here, niloko mo ako noon, niloloko mo pa rin ako ngayon."

Her cries filled the room, a haunting sound that made Alastair's chest tighten painfully. Alastair tried to embrace her, but Zaviya pushed her away.

"Ang lakas ng loob mong puntahan ako after mo sa ibang babae. Here I am," Zaviya sobbed, clutching her chest. "Here I am, shit. Trying to fix us. Trying to find something worth saving. But how, Alastair? How can I fix us if you keep breaking me over and over again?"

Alastair's tears fell freely as she knelt before her wife, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch her. Zaviya keeps pushing her but Alastair hugs her thightly. Their sobs echoe in the room.

"Zavi, I love you. I'm so sorry I keep mesing up and hurting you. Please, don't do this. Let's talk, let's fix this-"Alastair repeatedly said.

After a couple of minutes, Zaviya shook her head violently, wiping her tears with trembling hands. She stood, unsteady but determined, and looked down at Alastair with hollow eyes.

"Leave now. I don't wanna see you. You're not gonna fool me again. I'm learning my lessons hard." she said, her voice cold, her resolve firm. "Ayoko na. Pagod na ako tangina. I deserve peace, Alastair. Hindi ko na alam kung ano ang dapat kong paniwalaan."

Alastair scrambled to her feet, desperation written all over her face. "Zaviya, please! Don't say that! Don't give up on us! What about last night, the connection that we had?"

Zaviya's laughter was sharp and bitter. "What we had last night? That was nothing. Just a moment of weakness. A casual fuck, Alastair. Don't fool yourself."

The words hit Alastair like a slap, her tears falling harder.

"And to be fair," Zaviya added, her tone laced with venom, "Irfan is way better than you in bed."

Alastair’s knees buckled as the weight of Zaviya’s words crashed down on her, sharp and unrelenting like shards of glass piercing her chest. Her heart fractured, the ache too deep, too raw. Her trembling voice struggled to rise above the pain.

"Zaviya, I don’t believe that," Alastair said, her tone desperate, her eyes searching for even the faintest flicker of the love they once shared. "I know you—"

"You don’t know me, Alastair!" Zaviya’s voice erupted like thunder, silencing her. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but they didn’t soften her expression. If anything, they sharpened her words, making them cut even deeper. "If kaya mong gawin ‘yon, kaya ko rin, Alastair—just like how you bedded other women so easily!"

Alastair flinched as though she’d been struck.

Zaviya’s voice turned cold, her anguish transforming into armor. "I tried," she said, her words trembling with emotion yet steady in their resolve. "I tried so hard to love you, Alastair. Despite everything—despite all the pain, the doubts, the nights I stayed up wondering if I was enough for you. But you’ve made it so clear." Her voice cracked, but she pressed on, her resolve unwavering. "You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve me."

Her next words came as a whisper, but they carried the force of a storm. "Now leave. I don’t want to see you anymore. Please... just give me the peace I need. I’m done."

And with that, Zaviya turned her back on Alastair, disappearing into the confines of her room. The sound of the door slamming echoed through the apartment, a final, resounding blow to Alastair’s crumbling world.

For a moment, Alastair couldn’t move. Her body felt heavy, as though the weight of her guilt and heartbreak had rooted her to the floor. Her trembling hand reached out toward the closed door as if willing it to open.

"Zaviya," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Then louder, more desperate. "Zaviya, please… Please open the door! Don’t end us like this. I love you, Zavi! Please..."

Her pleas were met with silence. Only the faint sound of Zaviya’s muffled sobs from behind the door reached her ears. It was unbearable.

She knocked again, her knuckles reddening from the effort. "Zavi, please! Just talk to me. We can fix this—I can fix this. Please..."

But the door remained closed.

Minutes turned into an hour as Alastair waited, sitting on the cold floor outside Zaviya’s door. Every passing second was a dagger to her heart, every sob from inside a reminder of the hurt she had caused.

When it became clear that Zaviya wouldn’t open the door, Alastair forced herself to her feet. Her gaze drifted to the couch, where the clothes she had worn last night were neatly folded, as if Zaviya couldn’t bear to discard even that small part of her.

With trembling hands, Alastair dressed, the weight of Zaviya’s words pressing down on her chest. She picked up her wallet, her cellphone, and her car keys, her every movement slow and deliberate, as though rushing might shatter what little strength she had left.

Her eyes lingered on the closed door one last time. She wanted to stay. God, how she wanted to stay. But she knew Zaviya too well. She knew that staying would only push her further away.

With a shattered heart, Alastair whispered, "I’ll give you space, Zavi... but I’ll wait for you. Always."

And then she left, the sound of the door closing behind her a quiet echo of the door Zaviya had slammed shut between them. The silence in the apartment felt deafening, but the silence in Alastair’s heart was far worse.

After the heated confrontation with Zaviya, Alastair’s heart felt as though it had been torn apart—shredded by the echoes of words she couldn’t erase. Once again, the past had clawed its way back to haunt her, replaying like a cruel, unending loop. She needed to escape, to breathe, to silence the chaos in her mind. Without hesitation, she grabbed her keys and drove aimlessly, her destination clear only to her aching heart: the cabin.

The cabin had always been her refuge, her secret place. A sanctuary hidden among sprawling green trees and nature's embrace, where the world couldn't reach her. But today, even the calming whispers of the wind through the leaves couldn’t touch the storm raging within.

As soon as she arrived, she didn’t waste a moment. With trembling hands, she dialed her secretary, Nicha. "Cancelled all my appointments today and tomorrow," she said curtly, her voice betraying none of the emotions threatening to break free. It was her way of distracting herself, even for a moment. After the call ended, she powered off her phone, shutting herself off from the rest of the world. For now, she wanted to disappear.

She stepped outside, settling into the old swing beneath the large acacia tree. The creak of the chains accompanied her as she gently swayed, staring blankly at the lush surroundings. But no matter how much she tried to lose herself in the serenity, Zaviya’s face kept resurfacing. The memory of her wife’s hurt expression pierced through her like a knife.

It was the same expression of betrayal Zaviya wore three years ago when she discovered Alastair’s deception. Three long years of pretending, of holding back the truth, of building a relationship on a fragile foundation of lies. And now, it seemed like history was repeating itself, only this time, it was Alastair who bore the weight of the pain.

Unable to sit still any longer, she made her way inside the cabin, her steps heavy with sorrow. She headed straight for the small kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. It wasn’t even noon, but she didn’t care. She needed something—anything—to dull the ache gnawing at her chest.

The first sip burned her throat, but it wasn’t enough. She poured another, and another, hoping the alcohol could drown the brokenness consuming her. But with every drink, her emotions only surged, raw and unforgiving.

As the warmth of the liquor spread through her body, Zaviya’s voice came rushing back, sharp and venomous: "And to be fair," she had said, her words like daggers, "Irfan is way better than you in bed."

The glass in Alastair’s hand shattered against the floor as her grip faltered. Her breath hitched, and she pressed her trembling hands against the counter, trying to steady herself. The words echoed in her head, over and over, tearing at her heart.

How could Zaviya say that? How could she twist the knife even deeper? Alastair had always believed that, no matter what, Zaviya had reserved herself for her alone. But now, she didn’t know what to believe anymore. She didn’t know what was real.

Her legs gave way, and she slumped to the floor, tears spilling freely down her face. Her body shook as sobs wracked through her. The pain was unbearable, cutting deeper than she ever thought possible.

Alastair was broken, too. Just like Zaviya. Both of them were trapped in a cycle of hurt, unable to break free from the past or find solace in the present. And as she sat there on the cold, wooden floor of her sanctuary, she wondered if the love they once shared was strong enough to survive the wreckage they had become.

Alastair woke up in the dead of night, her body heavy with the stench of alcohol and regret. She found herself sprawled on the cold, hard floor of the cabin’s living room, her heart drowning in the same ache that had haunted her for weeks. The dim glow of the moon filtered through the curtains, casting shadows that seemed to mock her solitude.

Her thoughts spiraled into an endless loop of what-ifs. What if she hadn’t tried to control their fate? What if she had let Zaviya remembers for herself. The weight of her mistakes bore down on her chest, suffocating her. She knew she was wrong—so devastatingly wrong. She had played with destiny and now faced the consequences of her arrogance. And the worst part? She wasn't sure if she’d ever stop paying for it.

Unable to bear the torment any longer, Alastair stumbled to the bathroom. The cold tiles against her bare feet were a brief reprieve from the storm inside her. She stepped into the shower, letting the freezing water crash over her like a punishment. It ran down her face, mingling with the tears she refused to let fall. She stayed there for hours, hoping the water would wash away her guilt, her pain, her longing—but it didn’t.

When she finally stepped out, the air felt heavier, suffocating even. She packed a small bag with a few clothes, her movements mechanical, void of thought or hope. She needed to escape. To breathe. To run from the pain that clung to her like a second skin.

Minutes later, she boarded her private chopper, the roar of the blades drowning out the voices in her head. She instructed the pilot to take her to Palawan, to the private island she had kept secret from everyone—even Zaviya. It was her sanctuary, a place where no one could find her, where she could confront her demons without an audience.

The island greeted her with its familiar stillness, the elegant villa standing like a forgotten monument amidst the isolation. She spent the next three days nursing her broken heart in every way she could. Bottles of alcohol lined the counters as she drank herself into numbness. She threw herself into beach activities, hoping the physical exhaustion would overpower the emotional pain. But no matter what she did, the ache persisted.

Every wave that crashed against the shore seemed to echo her anguish. Every sunset reminded her of the warmth she’d lost. And every star that lit up the night sky only highlighted the void in her chest where Zaviya used to be.

For three days, Alastair tried to forget. But the truth was, no amount of alcohol or distractions could ever erase the memories of the woman who owned her heart. And as the waves whispered her name, Alastair realized she wasn’t running from the pain—she was running from herself.

End of flashbacks............

Snapping out of her reverie, Alastair decided it was time to step out of her isolation. It was Thursday, her fourth day of solitude on her private island in Palawan, she resolved to explore a nearby, busier island teeming with tourists. She needed supplies for her extended stay—and maybe, just maybe, a distraction from the torment that had been clawing at her chest since everything fell apart with Zaviya.

The afternoon sun glared down as Alastair docked her luxury boat near the island's bustling pier. She kept her head low, her signature black polo, bandana, dark shades, and board shorts shielding her identity from prying eyes.  Even in her simplicity, she caught attention. Girls sneaked glances at her, their admiration obvious, but she didn’t care. Her heart was far too heavy for their fleeting looks to matter.

She ate lunch at a seafood restaurant, alone at a corner table, mindlessly stabbing her fork into her grilled fish. Her appetite was dull, her thoughts far away—on Zaviya. She was always on Zaviya.

She moved briskly through the market afterward, her cart quickly filling with necessities—and a generous stash of alcohol. Once everything was loaded back onto her boat, she decided to stretch her legs along the shore. She found herself wandering to an isolated part of the beach where the waves were gentler, the noise of life fading into tranquility.

But peace wasn’t destined for her that day.

Standing some distance away was a figure she recognized instantly—broad shoulders, cocky posture, and a grin that made her blood boil. Irfan. Zaviya’s ex-boyfriend. The man she despised most in the world.

From afar, Alastair could see the mockery in his smirk. It was a silent challenge, and she wanted nothing more than to erase that smug expression from his face. Her fists clenched instinctively, every ounce of her training in boxing, taekwondo, judo, and muay thai surging through her veins.

As they drew closer, Irfan was the first to speak. His voice carried the venom of someone who thrived on stirring chaos.“Oh wow, small world, huh? Alastair Michelle Dee. What a surprise to see you here in Palawan. Though you look… off. You look… out of place. What happened?” He smirked, flexing his tanned arms as if to taunt her.

Alastair’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, small world indeed. And I hope it’s the last time I see you.” She attempted to walk past him, refusing to let his presence ruin her day.

But Irfan wasn’t done. He turned, following her with a casual stroll. “I’ve always wondered,” he started, his tone laced with venom. “Why does Zaviya even bother to still be with you? What’s so special about you, huh? I could give her everything—anything. What can you give her, Alastair? A heartache?”

Alastair froze, her breath catching. She slowly turned to face him, her glare piercing through her shades. “You wouldn’t understand even if I explained it. Wala ka sa kalingkingan ko, Irfan.”

He laughed, a grating sound that dug under her skin. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one falling apart. Let me tell you something. Whenever Zaviya would look on you, she'll be always reminded by your lies and betrayals. And sooner or later, she’ll realize she’s better off without you. You’re just a selfish piece of shit, Alastair. And when she does leave you, I’ll be there. I’ll make her happier than you ever could. And I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”

Alastair’s fists trembled, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to contain the fury bubbling inside her.

"If I were you, I would stop talking about things you surely know nothing about." Alastair coldly said still trying to walk away from him.

Irfan walks faster and leaned closer, lowering his voice but making sure every word hit its mark. “You know, Alastair, she deserves someone who can make her happy. Someone who can give her everything but not constant pain and heartache. Someone like me.” His lips curled into a cruel smile. “Do you know how beautiful and sexy she is. How my hands perfectly fit in her curves? And I can't wait to have her more. Damn Alastair, ginago mo kasi tsk. Nasayo na pinakawalan mo pa!" he continued. 

It was the last straw.

Alastair looks back at him and lunged forward, her vision clouded with rage. She grabs Irfan by the collar and slamming him against the sand. She threw the first punch. It landed squarely on his jaw, the satisfying crunch fueling her wrath.

“You really dared to touch what's mine? Tangina mong gago ka. So you really slept with her?” she roared, her voice echoing across the deserted beach. Blow after blow, she let her fury consume her. Irfan tried to shield himself, landing a few punches of his own, but Alastair’s skill and raw anger overwhelmed him.

The fight was brutal, chaotic, and relentless. Sand flew in every direction as the two grappled, but it was clear Alastair was winning. Blood smeared Irfan’s face—his nose broken, lips split, and eyes swelling shut.

A group of men nearby noticed the commotion and rushed to intervene. Two muscular bystanders held Alastair back, struggling against her strength as she thrashed in their grip.

“Binalaan na kita, gago! Putangina mo! I told you don't you ever touch her.” Alastair screamed, her voice cracking with emotion. “Papatayin kitang hayop ka!”

Irfan, battered and bloodied, still managed to smirk through his pain. His laugh was weak but mocking. “You did this to yourself, Alastair. You destroyed your relationship with Zaviya. Not me. I was just waiting for my chance.  And when Zaviya finally sees the truth, she’ll come to me. She’ll want me."

He wiped the blood from his nose, his grin never faltering. “Don't you know how lovely her bedroom voice is especially when she moans my name as we made love? Poor Alastair. Just give Zaviya to me, she'll be better off without you. You’re just a placeholder, Alastair. Nothing more. When she comes back to me—and she will—I’ll make sure she never remembers your name. Face it, Alastair. You lost her.”

With that, he walked away, leaving Alastair seething, held back by the men who had intervened. His retreating figure blurred as tears welled in her eyes, anger and heartbreak twisting in her chest like a knife.

As the sound of Irfan’s motorbike faded into the distance, Alastair finally stopped struggling. The men released her, their concerned gazes lingering, but she didn’t acknowledge them. She dropped to her knees in the sand, her head bowed, her body trembling with the weight of everything she couldn’t express.

"Please leave me alone" Alastair coldly said to the two men.

The ocean roared behind her, its waves crashing in a symphony of sorrow as Alastair buried her face in her hands and screamed. It wasn’t just rage that poured out of her—it was pain, regret, and the aching realization that no matter how hard she fought, she might already be losing the love of her life.

She stumbled back to her private island, the weight of heartbreak pressing on her chest like an anchor dragging her to the ocean floor. Bottles of liquor littered the living room, their contents draining away as if to mirror the emptiness in her heart. The once-pristine space now resembled the aftermath of a storm—a storm that Alastair herself had unleashed. She had flipped tables, smashed glasses, and hurled anything within reach. The chaos mirrored the turmoil inside her.

Her encounter with Irfan earlier was the final nail in the coffin of her fragile composure. Every word exchanged had been like a blade to her already bleeding heart. Why does it always have to be like this? she screamed silently to the universe. Why do I have to suffer so much for love? I just wanted her. I just wanted Zaviya.

All she ever wanted was to love Zaviya—fully, selflessly, with everything she had. To be with her. To build a future. To create a family. But all she seemed to receive in return was pain, relentless and all-consuming.

Her thoughts spiraled as she reached for yet another bottle on the counter. The bitterness of the alcohol burned her throat, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her chest. She wanted to drown everything—her love, her memories, her dreams of a future with Zaviya.

Then it happened. A familiar melody spilled into the room, breaking the heavy silence. She had accidentally turned on the speaker while reaching for more liquor.

🎵 Let me be the one to break it upSo you won't have to make excuses... 🎶

Her hand froze mid-air, the bottle slipping from her grasp and shattering on the floor. The lyrics pierced through her like a dagger, each word carving open wounds she had tried so hard to seal.

🎵 We don't need to find a set-up whereSomeone wins and someone loses... 🎶

Alastair’s knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor, her shoulders heaving as sobs tore through her chest. Tears spilled freely, each one a testament to the pain she could no longer contain.

“Akala ko sanay na ako sa sakit,” she choked out, her voice trembling, her face buried in her hands. "Pero mas may sasakit pa pala..."

Her body shook with every sob, her anguish consuming her like a wildfire. The memories of Zaviya’s smile, her laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she was happy—everything replayed in her mind, torturing her further.

🎵 We just have to say our love was trueBut has now become a lie... 🎶

Her cries turned into wails as the song echoed in the empty space. She clutched her chest, gasping for air, as though her heart was being ripped from her body. "Zaviya..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "I gave you everything... and yet... why do I feel so broken? Why do I feel like I'm dying?"

The universe offered no answer, only the haunting lyrics of the song filling the void.

🎵 So I'm tellin' you, I love you one last time...And goodbye. 🎶

In that moment, Alastair felt like she was dying—not a physical death, but the slow, agonizing death of everything she had ever hoped for, dreamed of, and loved.

----------------------Updateeeee 💞

Makisenti muna tayo kay Alastair🤧

#ABF 46