Anton woke with the faint hum of rain against the windowpane, his body caught between the remnants of warmth beside him and the chill of a strange emptiness. He reached out instinctively, fingers brushing only the cool linen of the mattress. His eyes opened, slow and reluctant, before realization struck like a sudden, merciless storm.
Krystel was gone.
The space where she had slept was hollow, untouched except for the delicate silver bracelet resting neatly atop the pillow.
For a moment, Anton simply stared. His chest tightened, his mind lagging behind his senses. He pressed his palm against the sheets, willing himself to feel her lingering presence, some proof that she hadn't simply vanished in the night. But there was nothing—no warmth, no scent that didn't already belong to memory.
And then denial surged.
"No," he whispered into the quiet room, his voice rough, as if speaking aloud could make her appear again. "She wouldn't just... not like this."
He stood, restless, pacing the length of the room as if he could outwalk the dread forming in his veins. The storm outside battered the glass, thunder echoing the tempest inside him. He picked up the bracelet with trembling hands. He knew it well—Krystel wore it every day of their seven. The thin chain, simple but enduring, had been her habit, her signature. She wouldn't have left it behind unless—
Unless it was meant to be a goodbye.
Anton's POV
The clock struck eight. I didn't care. My chest hollowed as I stared at the bracelet again and again, turning it over in my palm like it might answer me if I held it long enough.
"Why, Krystel?" I muttered under my breath. "Why would you leave without a word?"
I stormed out of the room, ignoring the ache in my chest, my voice rising as I searched the apartment. The kitchen—empty. The balcony—still wet with rain, no trace of her slippers. The front door was locked from the inside when I checked, though the spare key was missing from the hook.
She had planned this.
My throat tightened, and a bitter laugh escaped me. "So it was always meant to end like this."
But no matter how hard I tried to hold onto anger, it wouldn't stick. It was heartbreak, raw and cutting, that consumed me.
Krystel's Absence
By noon, Anton hadn't eaten. He sat at the table, phone clutched in his hand, scrolling through their few exchanged messages like they could breathe life back into her. Nothing new. No unread notifications. Her number went straight to voicemail when he called, her cheerful voice message now the cruelest reminder of what he had lost.
Tomorrow, it ends.
Her words from last night echoed relentlessly. He had dismissed them then, brushing them off with a kiss against her hair, as if desire could outwit fate. He had told her, "Then let's make tomorrow never come."
But tomorrow had come. And she was gone.
Scene: Jerry's Visit
By afternoon, Anton hadn't moved. He sat at the edge of the couch, bracelet clenched tight, when a knock echoed through the apartment.
"Anton?" Jerry's voice called.
Reluctantly, Anton opened the door. Jerry Yangco—loyal friend, pragmatic to a fault—stood there with a look of concern.
"You look like hell," Jerry said immediately, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "What happened?"
"She's gone."
Jerry frowned. "What do you mean gone?"
Anton thrust the bracelet forward like evidence. "She left this. That's all."
Jerry took it, studied it briefly, then handed it back. "Maybe she just needed some air. You're spiraling."
"No, Jerry. She's not coming back." His voice cracked on the last word, the weight of it threatening to crush him.
Jerry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Anton, you knew this thing between you two was temporary, right? That was the deal."
"I didn't care about the deal," Anton snapped, his anger finally surfacing. "She made me believe—dammit, Jerry, she made me feel like we could rewrite it."
Jerry's face softened. He put a hand on Anton's shoulder. "Then maybe you should accept that she couldn't."
Scene: Princess Finds Out
That evening, Princess Ybáñez stormed into Anton's apartment, her umbrella dripping wet. Her eyes scanned the room like a hawk before landing on him.
"Where is she?" Princess demanded.
Anton's lips parted, but no words came.
"She told me she'd check in today. Nothing. No calls, no texts. You—" She pointed at him, accusing. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything," Anton whispered, his voice hoarse. "She just... left."
Princess froze. "No. Krystel wouldn't do that."
"She did," Anton said flatly, showing her the bracelet.
Her face crumpled, though she tried to mask it with anger. "She must've had a reason. Something's wrong. I know her. She wouldn't just disappear."
"And yet she did," Anton said bitterly.
Princess paced, her own panic clear. "This doesn't make sense. Not Krystel. She wouldn't ghost me, or you, or anyone without cause. You need to stop wallowing and help me find her."
But Anton's body felt like lead. The storm outside had nothing on the one inside his chest. "And what if she doesn't want to be found?"
Princess shook her head fiercely. "No. I'm not accepting that."
Anton Alone
When both Princess and Jerry had gone, Anton sat in the dark. The bracelet glinted on the table, mocking him.
He replayed every moment of the past six days in his head—the laughter, the kisses, the way she had tucked her hand into his as though it belonged there. It all felt cruel now, as if it had been designed only to make the fall sharper.
Anton poured himself a glass of whiskey, his first in months. His mentor Simeon's words haunted him: "Attachment is dangerous for men like us. It leaves openings you cannot afford."
But Anton hadn't listened. He had opened every part of himself to Krystel. And now he was paying the price.
He pressed the bracelet against his forehead, whispering like a prayer. "Why didn't you trust me with the truth?"
No answer came. Only silence.
Krystel's POV (Fragment)
The rain beat harder as Krystel stood on the curb, suitcase at her side. She wiped her cheeks roughly, cursing herself for crying again.
Anton's sleeping face had been her undoing—the peace in his expression, the safety she knew she would destroy if she stayed. Leaving the bracelet had been the only way she knew to say forgive me without saying goodbye.
She whispered into the storm, unheard: "I love you too much to let you follow me into this."
Then she disappeared into the night.
Back to Anton
The next morning, Anton woke on the couch, head pounding, the bracelet digging into his palm. The storm had passed outside, but inside, it raged on.
Jerry's words. Princess's pleas. Simeon's warnings. None of them mattered.
Only one truth remained:
Krystel was gone. And he couldn't let her go.
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