Page 116 of Between Love and War
I stand as Manang Linda stands. “Thank you,” I say. “For welcoming me here. For never making me feel like I have to be more than who I am. I wish I could live here forever.”
She turns to me, eyes soft. “You don’t have to live here forever to belong.”
Then she pats my chest. Right over my heart.
“That part of you? The part that still believes in love, even when it hurts? That’s the part I’d like to believe this place gave you. You keep that safe.”
She turns to leave, but I stop her.
“Wait.”
She pauses, brows lifting.
And before I can overthink it, I wrap my arms around her. She freezes for half a second. Then her arms fold around me, steady and warm. She doesn’t say anything.
The tears come before I can stop them. Quiet at first. Then harder. Ugly.
It hits me all at once—how much I miss Kate, how tired I am of pretending I’m fine, how scared I am that this version of me, the one she brought out, might disappear now.
After a while, I let out a breathless, watery laugh. “Well, look at me,” I say, voice hoarse. “A thirty-year-old man crying on the shoulders of my elderly neighbor.”
She snorts. “Elderly?!”
I laugh again, though it breaks in the middle. She squeezes my arm once before stepping back, her expression soft but firm.
“What would you kids do without me?” she mutters, grabbing a tissue from her purse and shoving it into my hand like it’s part of a sacred ritual. “Fall apart completely, that’s what.”
The door closes behind her, and suddenly the apartment feels too quiet. Too still. I drop onto the couch, tissue clenched in one hand, Kate’s cookie recipe in the other.
I look at it again, and remember when she gave it to me, after she very kindly said she’s proud of me.
I sigh. I hate that it’s kind. Because it would’ve been easier if she yelled. If she walked away angry, slammed a door, made me hate her just a little. But Kate doesn’t burn bridges. Even back when we couldn’t stand each other, she was kind.
I close my eyes.
I just want her to live a life untouched by the noise of other people’s expectations. To breathe in a world where she doesn’t have to shrink to fit. Maybe love like that is enough.
After all, love isn’t about claiming someone. It’s not about holding them still, or asking them to stop growing so they can stay within arm’s reach. It’s about seeing who they are when they finally start to bloom—and choosing to root for them anyway, even if it means loving them from the sidelines.
And I am rooting for her.
I’m rooting for her early mornings in that tiny bakery she’s going to build with her bare hands and her brave heart. Even if I’m not the one beside her when she opens her bakery. Even if she ends up with someone who always wears caps indoors. Even if the timing never lines up.
I still want her to get that cheesy grand gesture, because I know she still wants it.
But while she’s still busy building her dream without the pressure of getting tangled up in mine, I’ll quietly cheer her on.
Manang Linda was right. I would’ve fallen apart. But I smile.
Because if I had to fall apart, I’m glad it was for someone like Katie.
For someone I love, with all the ways I know and all the ways I’m still learning.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Kate
Ithought love sucked. But no, it didn’t just suck. It’s a disease. Worse than the plague. At least with the plague, you either died or got better. With love, you’re just... hovering in this in-between state. Haunting. Wailing. Depressing. Emotionally draining.
