dieciséis

"The Letter"

Alice had always known this wouldn’t be easy.

From the moment she walked into this office—into her space—she braced herself for the inevitable.

Risa would push her away. She always did. It was just like before. Only back then, it was a classroom, not a corporate office.

Back then, Alice had been nothing more than a lovesick student, staring too long, lingering too close, waiting for something that was never meant to be.

But this wasn’t high school. This wasn’t a fleeting crush or some childish infatuation.

Alice wasn’t eighteen anymore, looking at Risa like she hung the stars in the sky. She had grown.

She had changed. She was older now. Stronger. Smarter.

And yet—Risa still made her feel like that reckless, foolish girl who wanted something she shouldn’t. Who longed for something just out of reach.

"Redo this."

Alice blinked at the file Risa had shoved into her hands. Again? She had spent hours on this report, making sure every detail was flawless.

There was nothing wrong with it, and they both knew it. But Alice didn’t argue. She wouldn’t give Risa the satisfaction of seeing her frustrated. She just took the file, nodding.

"Yes, ma’am."

The way Risa stiffened at that made something curl in Alice’s chest.

Because she remembered. She remembered the way she used to say Ms. Hontiveros, dragging out the syllables just to see that flicker of warning in her teacher’s eyes.

She remembered how Risa would shift, crossing her arms, pretending not to notice. She remembered—

No.

That was the past. And Risa had made it clear, so many times, that there was no place for Alice in her future.

But if that were true—then why was Risa still trying so hard to make her leave? If she really wanted Alice gone, she could fire her. Just like that.

But she didn’t. Instead, she buried Alice in work, in impossible tasks, in suffocating expectations. She wanted Alice to quit.

Which meant—she was afraid of her staying.

And Alice wasn’t sure if that realization made her want to laugh or scream. Because Risa Hontiveros was still the same.

Still running. Still pretending she didn’t feel it—that pull between them that had existed long before Alice was old enough to understand what it meant.

Well.

Risa might still be running—

But Alice wasn’t.

Not anymore.

She turned on her heel and walked out of the office, gripping the file tight in her hands.

If Risa thought she could push her away, she was wrong. Because Alice had waited too long for this moment. And this time—she wouldn’t let her get away.

Alice had endured it all—Risa’s impossible demands, the endless revisions, the cold, dismissive stares. And yet, she stayed.

Because she wasn’t that reckless girl anymore, chasing after a teacher who wouldn’t let herself be wanted.

She was a woman now. A woman who knew, deep down, that Risa wanted her back.

But just when she thought she had finally won—finally backed Risa into a corner where she had no choice but to face this—something changed.

Or rather—

Something returned.

A letter.

Alice found it tucked inside an old file, its edges yellowed, the ink faded. She recognized Risa’s handwriting instantly. Her heart pounded as she read.

To Alice,

The girl who made me realize what it means to love for the first time—

and the girl I can never have.

By the time you read this, I will already be gone.

Maybe you’ll hate me. Maybe you’ll curse my name. Maybe you’ll wonder if any of it was ever real.

But please, Alice, know that it was. Every glance, every stolen moment, every time I felt my heart race just because you were near—none of it was a lie.

I left because I had to. Because if I stayed—

if I let you keep looking at me that way—

if I let myself believe, even for a second, that we could be something more—

I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.

And I can’t do that to you.

I can’t be that selfish.

You are young. You have an entire life ahead of you, a future so much brighter than the walls of my classroom.

I refuse to be the reason you ruin it. I refuse to let my own feelings trap you in something that was never meant to be.

So I’m asking you, Alice. Begging you.

Forget me.

Forget the way I smiled at you when I thought no one was looking.

Forget the way my hands trembled when you got too close.

Forget the way my heart betrayed me every time you said my name.

Please, don’t follow me.

Please, don’t wait for something that was doomed from the start.

Love should be something beautiful, something freeing—not something that chains you to a past that can never be rewritten.

If I had met you in another life, maybe things would have been different. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to write this letter. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to let you go.

But this is the life we were given, and this is the choice I have to make.

So goodbye, Alice.

Be happy. Be free.

And above all else—please, please don’t love me anymore.

Truly yours,

Ms. Hontiveros

Alice’s hands trembled. The paper felt fragile between her fingers, the ink slightly faded, but the words were burned into her mind.

She read it again. And again. Each time, the meaning became clearer, sharper, cutting through every doubt she had carried for years.

"I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself."

Her breath hitched.

Risa had wanted her.

Not in the way Alice had always feared—not as a moment of weakness, not as a mistake. No. It was real. It had always been real.

And Risa had left because she was afraid of herself.

Alice’s fingers curled around the letter. The weight of it pressed against her chest, heavier than anything Risa had ever thrown at her.

It wasn’t because Alice had been young. It wasn’t because she had been foolish, desperate, or delusional. It was because Risa had felt it too.

For so long, Alice had convinced herself she had imagined it.

That her stolen glances, her lingering touches, the way her heart raced when Risa was near—it had all been one-sided. A cruel trick of youth.

But this letter shattered that lie.

She hadn’t been wrong.

Risa had known.

Risa had wanted.

And Risa had run.

Alice’s grip tightened, the letter crumpling slightly under her fingers. She felt her pulse hammering, her heart slamming against her ribs like it was trying to break free.

The years of doubt, of regret, of wondering what if—they all bled into something sharper, something clearer.

She couldn’t stay still.

Slowly, she rose to her feet. Her body moved before her mind fully caught up, every step carrying the weight of ten years.

The letter shook in her grasp, but she didn’t hesitate.

She didn’t knock when she entered Risa’s office.

She didn’t stop, didn’t waver, didn’t let the fear creep in.

She just walked in.

Risa looked up from her desk, startled. Her eyes widened, her mouth parting as if she had something to say, but Alice didn’t give her the chance.

"Alice—"

Alice tossed the letter onto her desk.

The paper landed between them, the words exposed, undeniable.

Risa stilled.

Alice watched her, her breath shallow, her body thrumming with something electric.

And then, in a voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the silence, she spoke.

"You told me not to follow you," she said, her gaze locked onto Risa’s.

"But you never told me the truth."