Pink Is the Darkest Color

Chapter 1 (1/2)

Please note that this story has been meticulously crafted with a deliberate pace, aiming to build tension and create a slow burn of emotions. If you prefer fast-paced narratives that get straight to the point, I regret to inform you that this particular story may not align with your preferences.

However, if you are willing to immerse yourself in the intricacies of the tale, I highly recommend reading each word attentively to fully grasp and savor the experience. While it is not a strict requirement, doing so will undoubtedly enhance your enjoyment, provide a more profound connection with the story, and prevent any potential loss or confusion.

Estimated reading time for each chapter is approximately 20 minutes or more.

Happy reading!

In life, destiny often serves as the axis upon which the world turns.

"Ginoo..."

It is the guiding force behind our existence, shaping the paths we cross, the connections we forge, and the actions we take.

Every encounter, every choice, finds its origin in the intricate hands of destiny.

"Bakit mo ako nilalayuan? May nagawa ba akong hindi kanais-nais sa iyo? Sabihin mo!"

But what if I were to tell you... that there exists an individual who, unconsciously and unintentionally, defies the course set by destiny?

"Huwag kang mag-isip ng ganiyan, Binibining Isabella."

And as a consequence, he became the recipient of a unique gift—the ability to recollect each of his past lives as if they were mere memories from his current existence.

"Wala kang ginawa."

Remembering past lives, retaining awareness of countless rebirths, and immersing oneself in different cultures, traditions, and interactions across various countries, all while remaining untouched by the experience of leading a conventional life or growing old—his unchanging destiny is to meet his end at the tender age of 25.

It's almost as if fate, if he indeed has any, is toying with him, allowing him to live through numerous lives only to meet an early demise every single time.

"Wala kang ginawa, Binibining Isabella."

And in each of his lives, as he gained awareness of his past and the repetitive tragedy of his untimely death, the most challenging aspect remained the need to distance himself from the people he grew to love and care for in every existence.

His choice to distance himself wasn't solely for the purpose of safeguarding his emotions from the inevitable cycle of attachment and loss through deaths and rebirths. Equally important was his desire to protect those he cherished from the anguish his departures would inevitably inflict. He believed that by beginning the process of detachment well before his anticipated deaths, the subsequent pain might be alleviated, softened by time and separation.

There were three common denominators.

Apart from the recurring theme of death, one of these patterns involves the presence of an elderly man.

An old man who unfailingly appears twice in each of his lifetimes—every time he regains consciousness, and every time he nears death.

The man is always seen holding a staff, and his face is never visible.

With each encounter, and as he observed the figure's enduring presence throughout his various lives, regardless of his place of rebirth, he became resolute in his quest to find the old man before meeting his own end. However, his attempts always fell short, depriving him of the chance to unravel the man's identity or the purpose of his constant appearances.

He held steadfast to the conviction that the old man held the key to the very answers he relentlessly pursued—the answers to his unique ability, the reasons behind his perpetual suffering, and the enigma of why he, above all others, bore this burden.

The third denominator: he's a man. Always.

Regardless of the era, location, or cultural context, a consistent thread has persisted: he has always been reborn and died as a man. Through countless lives, across various roles—whether as a soldier on the battlefield, a warrior in distant lands, a young father unable to witness his children's growth, or a devoted son safeguarding his parents—he has embodied a resolute and masculine presence.

Having traversed numerous lifetimes, always inhabiting the identity of a man, he gradually became accustomed to the inherent attributes and societal roles that accompanied masculinity.

Through his diverse experiences and interactions, he internalized the nuances of being a protector, a provider, and a source of strength. These qualities, woven into the fabric of his existence across time, solidified his identity as a man, shaping his outlook and responses in a way that flowed seamlessly from one life to the next.

And no matter the curveballs that destiny might throw at him, he held steadfast in the belief that his core identity as a man would remain unchanged forever.

Forever.

"Heather."

At least... that's what she thought.

"Nandiyan na, ma!"

She is Heather... Heather Sullivan.

A young, innocent woman radiating with brightness and warmth, like a ray of sunshine.

"Eto na ho ba lahat?" Heather asked, her gaze shifting to the plastic bags she held.

"Oo, magdahan-dahan sa pagmamaneho," her mother replied, focused on the sizzling fried chicken in the pan.

Heather nodded and stepped out of their bustling fried chicken mini-restaurant. She carefully loaded the food into the delivery container attached to the back of her scooter, then hopped on and fastened her helmet.

"Para sa debut," she whispered to herself with a smirk before starting the scooter.

For her debut.

That was the goal.

Just a few more days, and she would finally be of legal age. She needed to earn enough money to afford a simple yet memorable debut celebration. Turning 18 was a once-in-a-lifetime event, and she was determined to make the most of it.

"Feathered Flavors delivery!"

She rapped lightly on the door of a hotel room, carefully placing the delivery in front. Glancing at her phone, she noted the unit number for her next delivery. Taking a quick scan of the surroundings, she realized her next stop was the VIP room adjacent to the one she had just served.

"Shet, big time." Heather nodded in awe, then approached the next door and knocked politely. "Feathered Flavors-"

But before she could even finish her knock, the door already swung open to reveal a glamorous woman, exuding an air of wealth and sophistication with just a single glance.

"Oh," the woman said as her eyes fell on the plastic bag Heather was holding. She then glanced back into the room. "Babe, do we have a delivery?"

"Chicken?" a deep, masculine voice from within the room inquired, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps.

Heather's eyes widened as a man with no upper clothes emerged, causing her to instinctively glance downward.

"How much is it again?" the man inquired, his fingers busy counting bills in his wallet.

"Magdamit ka nga!" his girlfriend scolded playfully, giving him a slight push.

"What?" the man chuckled. "Doesn't seem like he's bothered."

He?

Heather's brows furrowed automatically as she raised her head, her expression clearly offended.

His smile gradually vanished as he locked eyes with her, comprehension dawning. "Oh." A gulp accompanied his words. "I-I apologize, I didn't know."

Heather released a heavy sigh, nodded, and averted her gaze from him. "'Yung bayad na lang, sir."

Without hesitation, he handed her a thousand-peso bill. "Here."

She accepted it and was about to retrieve change from her sling bag, but then...

"No, keep it all," the woman said with a smile.

"Ah..." Heather hesitated for a moment before giving a slight bow. "Salamat ho."

"Do you have more deliveries? Sabay na tayong bumaba."

"Po?" she asked, surprise.

The woman then turned around to give her boyfriend a lingering kiss, a bit more than just a quick peck, causing Heather to turn her back away from them.

"Pucha naman," she whispered to herself.

"I'll be back," she heard the woman say before feeling an arm on her shoulder. "Shall we go?"

Before she knew it, she was already walking beside her, feeling a mix of silence and confusion as they both entered the elevator. The confined space seemed to be charged with an unfamiliar tension and a weighty atmosphere as she stood behind her.

"Did you realize what you just did?"

She raised her head, catching their reflections in the elevator door. "Po?"

The woman turned her gaze back to her, causing Heather to gulp nervously. "What you just did, it could have serious consequences."

Ano raw?

Ano ba'ng ginawa ko?

Heather let out a nervous chuckle. "W-Wala ho akong maintindihan, ma'am."

"The intensity of your glare earlier could prove fatal. You can't do that. Do you even know who we are?"

She could only respond with a series of blinking, her mind racing to make sense of the situation. Despite her efforts, she couldn't recall who the woman was or why her actions had caused such concern. Sikat ba sila?

"P-Pasensiya na ho, ma'am, pero hindi ho ako masyadong tutok sa social media. Mga vlogger ho ba kayo?"

The woman could only respond with a disbelieving laugh, clearly offended. "Excuse me?"

"Pasensiya na ho talaga, pero hindi ho kasi kami masyadong updated sa mga ganap ngayon. Mahina ho kasi ang signal dito sa probinsya. Kung ang tinutukoy niyo ho ay iyong masamang tingin ko kanina sa nobyo ninyo, pasensiya na-"

"Fiancé."

"Po?" Heather asked, confused.

"He's my fiancé."

"Ah..." She nodded repeatedly. "Okay po."

And with that, the elevator doors slid open.

"Mauna na ho ako, ma'am," she quickly mumbled to the woman's still fuming face before rushing out of the elevator. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she put some distance between them. "May sapak ba 'yon sa utak?" she muttered under her breath.

Shaking her head, she hopped onto her scooter and began to move forward. However, as she was driving, a car suddenly turned in front of her, causing her to brake abruptly. The collision was minor, but it was enough to throw her off balance and make her lose control, forcing her to crash her scooter and fall to the ground.

"s**t!" a guy shouted as he got out of the car and quickly checked the front of his vehicle. Concerned, he approached her on the ground. "Miss, are you okay?"

She glared at him with frustration. "Wala ka bang mata?!"

The guy's eyebrows furrowed in response. "Seriously? You're blaming me?"

"Sino ba'ng bumangga sa 'kin sa tingin mo? 'Yung guard?!" she retorted sarcastically, dusting off her arms as she slowly got back on her feet. "Lumayo ka nga!"

Her phone suddenly buzzed in her bag, and with an exasperated sigh, she retrieved it. However, her frustration seemed to melt away as soon as she saw Justin's name flashing on the screen. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes briefly, attempting to calm herself before answering the call.

"Hello?"

[Hello, Heather?]

Heather cleared her throat and rolled her eyes at the guy who was still standing in front of her. She turned her back to him and focused on her phone call. "O-Oh, napatawag ka?"

[May... sasabihin sana ako.]

"Hmm?"

[Sa isang araw na 'yung debut mo, 'di ba?]

She gulped. "Mhm, bakit?"

Hindi kaya... liligawan na niya ako?

She couldn't help but smile and bite her lip as she waited for his response.

[Hindi ako makakapunta.]

The world suddenly slowed down, and her throat felt constricted.

[Sorry, Heather. Sorry talaga.]

She gulped repeatedly, her mind going blank as she struggled to come up with a response. She lost track of time, lost in her thoughts, until suddenly, the shirtless guy she had seen earlier was walking towards her, now wearing a shirt.

[Heather? Nandiyan ka pa ba?]

"O-Oo," she responded, forcing a laugh. "O-Okay lang, ano ka ba."

['Wag kang mag-alala, hahanap ako ng kapalit ko para do'n sa 18 roses.]

"Justin," she said in a serious tone. "Hindi mo kailangang gawin 'yan. Nagpaalam ka na hindi ka makakapunta, okay na 'yun. Salamat."

[Pero-]

"Okay nga lang," she said, letting out a small laugh. "Debut ko 'to, okay? Ako na'ng bahala."

[Talaga?]

"Talagang-talaga-"

She was interrupted when the guy who had collided with her scooter stepped in front of her. He firmly held her shoulders and inspected her helmet, positioning himself as a barrier between her and the other man—the woman's boyfriend. The boyfriend stopped in his tracks, confusion evident on his face.

"Is that your name?" the guy asked, his gaze focused on her helmet.

[Heather? Okay ka lang? Sino 'yon?]

Heather furrowed her brows in confusion, pulled her phone away from her ear, and ended the call. "Ano?" she asked, her tone laced with frustration.

"Heather. Is that your name?" the guy asked urgently. She was about to ask how he knew, but then she remembered that her name was literally written on her helmet.

She forcefully pushed his hands off her shoulders using the back of her own hands. "Ano naman?"

The guy seemed poised to reach out again, his hand outstretched toward her shoulders, but the other man promptly intercepted, firmly holding the outstretched hand to prevent its touch.

"Dude, you good?" the latter guy asked, his tone cautious and concerned.

"E-Eros..." the guy she had collided with exclaimed in surprise, clearly not having noticed him before. "N-No, dude, it's not like you think-"

"Do you know who this guy is?" the guy named Eros asked, pointing towards the other guy.

Heather simply shook her head, her brows knit in bewilderment.

"Heather, come on now," the guy said as if she had said something crazy. "Don't embarrass me in front of my best friend."

Her brows furrowed even more. "Pinagsasabi mo?"

"Sige ka, hindi ako a-attend sa debut mo."

Paano niya nalaman?!

"E' di 'wag!" she exclaimed, turning her back and intending to walk away, but the guy promptly grabbed her arm.

"Meet my friend first."

She looked at him with a puzzled expression and then turned her gaze to his friend, who was scratching his forehead as if feeling embarrassed by his friend's behavior.

Heather then let out a frustrated sigh and angrily pointed her index finger toward his pesky friend, causing him to release his grip on her arm.

"Ikaw... Ikaw 'yung mga kaibigang hindi dapat kaibiganin, e," she scolded him, her tone sharp enough to make him step back. "Alam mo naman sigurong may syota 'yang kaibigan mo, 'di ba? Tapos nirereto mo pa sa 'kin? E, kung kutusan kaya kita sa bunbunan?"

"W-What..." the guy stammered, clearly bewildered. He then turned his gaze to his friend, Eros. "How... How did she even know? Have you two met before?"

"Gio, please, just stop," Eros said, his voice carrying a note of exasperation as he redirected his attention to her. "I apologize, you're free to leave now." He mustered a strained smile, his gaze drifting to her fallen scooter. With a sigh that hinted at his understanding of the situation, he continued, "I'll cover the expenses; my apologies once more."

"Kahit 'wag na ho," she replied, offering a slight bow.

"Wait!" the man named Gio interjected. "You two should at least shake hands. Come on, just shake hands."

Both Heather and Eros regarded him with bemused expressions, sharing a mutual sense of puzzlement. Given that Heather was entirely unfamiliar with Gio, his intention perplexed her even further.

"Dude, seriously, cut it out," Eros urged as he placed a hand on Gio's shoulder, attempting to guide him away. However, Gio abruptly halted.

"Dude, just a handshake. Come on."

The next thing they know, Heather's hand was already reaching out towards Eros.

"Para manahimik na 'yang kaibigan mo."

The scene fell into a momentary hush among the three of them, a pregnant pause laden with unspoken tension. Meanwhile, Gio's grin stretched wider, his anticipation evident as he waited for his friend to reciprocate the gesture.

In response, Eros matched the gesture, but rather than engaging in a handshake, he placed a piece paper into her open palm.

"Again, I apologize about my friend's behavior and any trouble it may have caused."

"W-What..." Gio muttered, his eyes widening in surprise. "Dude, hold on, just shake her hand—"

"Time to move," Eros intervened, his grip firm as he took hold of Gio's shoulder and guided him away from her.

Left utterly astonished, she gradually lowered her outstretched arms and unfolded the piece of paper.

It was a check.

Five hundred thousand pesos.