Prologue

The Australian concert was pure success. With that said, Lea had to go back home to the Philippines to continue her Sweeney Todd run in Manila before heading to Singapore for the next leg. The day before she left, we spent the afternoon strolling along St. Kilda Beach and our night having fun at Luna Park. Lea wasn't big on rides, but we enjoyed just chatting away and eating snacks while we walked around the park.

"Alam mo, hon, thank you. For making me feel as if I'm just a normal person," she told me while we were in line to buy ice cream.

"You're a normal person naman, Lei. Look at you — shirt and denim pants, hair tied up. You can do that all the time if you want di ba?" I told her, caressing her cheek.

"Well, yeah. Pero kahit na. Iba pa rin siyempre the fact na you treat me as someone special but not with special treatment. You don't make me feel like I'm supposed to be untouchable."

"Honey, see here — I look up to you. You're one of my stans, for goodness' sake. I'm amazed by you at all costs, but that doesn't mean I have to treat you like glass. You're a human being too. You should be free to enjoy life without the weight of everyone's expectations. Just be yourself with me. Okay?"

She nodded, smiling softly before kissing me on the cheek. "And that's what I love most about you."

"Ang alin, hon?"

"The authenticity. Taong tao. You don't easily judge. You don't see me as the Lea Salonga. You just see me as... Lea."

"Same goes for you," I said. "Hindi ako nagkamali. You're way more than I imagined. You're one of the most humane people I've met in my life."

"Aww, hon. That kinda seems too much but thank you. I take that to heart."

"You're welcome, Ms. Salonga," I teased.

She bopped my nose. "It's our turn na."

We got a double scoop to share and sat on one of the benches facing the Happy Swing. We watched children laughing and screaming in delight, their faces full of wonder. The simple joys of childhood.

"Hon, nasa plano mo ba ang magkaroon ng anak? I mean, na bumuo ng sarili mong pamilya?" Lea asked out of nowhere.

I smiled, scooping a bit of the ice cream. "Perhaps in the future," I said simply.

She nodded slowly, as if my answer satisfied her, though there was something thoughtful in her eyes — a flicker of wonder, of wanting.

"Lei," I said after a moment, "why ask?"

She shrugged, eyes fixed on the swing. "I just... wonder sometimes if you'd ever want that kind of life. The kind that's quiet. Steady."

Before I could answer, she turned to me — eyes soft, voice tender. "Rafaelle, marry me."

For a heartbeat, everything stilled. The laughter, the breeze, even the blinking lights of the park. Only her voice remained — small, but sure.

"What?" I asked, half-laughing, though my chest suddenly tightened.

"I said marry me."

"I heard you," I said quietly. "I just didn't expect that."

"Will you please spend the rest of your life with me, Rafa?"

She was smiling, but there was a tremor behind it — the kind of hope that could break you if you touched it wrong.

And I knew, right then, that I couldn't say yes.

I reached for her hand, held it in both of mine. "Lei..." I began softly. "I'm sorry, but no."

Her eyes widened. "No?"

"Lea..." I sighed, trying to keep my voice steady. "What we have — it's beautiful. It's more than I ever thought I'd be allowed to feel. But it can't go beyond this. First thing, we've only known each other for a short period of time. Second, there are things far greater than just us para magdesisyon ng gan'to kalaki. I-I can't."

She blinked, lips parting slightly. "But Rafa— did I say something wrong? May nagawa ba akong mali?"

"No, Lei. It's not you," I said quickly. "You've done everything right, hon. But I can't marry you because I know what that would cost — for you, for me, for everyone around us. Please understand that me saying no to you does not mean na hindi totoong mahal kita. Because I do, Lei. Sobra."

I looked down at our intertwined hands. "But... you have Nic. Your mom. Your world still belongs to the stage, to the people who look up to you. You've built something extraordinary, and I can't be the person who quietly asks you to live smaller just to keep us hidden, or palatable, or... safe."

Lea stayed silent, eyes wet but unwavering.

"And me," I continued, "I was raised to honor certain things — family, responsibility, my word. I can't pretend I can love you and not hurt others in the process. I can't stand before God, or even myself, knowing I traded integrity for something selfish, no matter how deep this love feels. Lei, hindi mo pa ako lubusang kilala. Hindi ako simpleng tao lang kagaya ng akala mo. My identity, apart from my name, is still privy to you but let me have you know that everything we've shared is real. It's just that... I'm also expected to excel in my own way at hindi option for me to runaway and elope with a superstar."

Her tears came now, slow and soundless. "So this is goodbye?"

I nodded, voice breaking. "It was always meant to be goodbye, wasn't it? We just didn't want to admit it."

She let out a shaky laugh. "You always ruin my big emotional moments with honesty."

I smiled weakly. "At least I'm consistent."

She brushed her tears, exhaled, then leaned in to kiss my forehead — long and trembling. "Thank you for loving me gently."

"Thank you for letting me," I whispered.

We sat there for a while, just holding hands in the soft hum of the park. The ice cream had melted, the lights flickered faintly, and the laughter around us kept going — as if nothing monumental had happened.

When we finally stood, we walked back to the hotel quietly.

No olives. No cherries. No tequila.

Just the quiet sound of shoes brushing the pavement and two hearts trying to remember how to beat apart.

At the entrance, she turned to me one last time and said softly, "You'll always be a chapter I'll never regret."

"And you'll always be the song I'll never finish," I replied.

She smiled — that calm, steady smile of hers — and disappeared into the elevator.

I stayed where I was, staring at the closed doors, realizing that sometimes the purest kind of love is the one that knows when to stop.