I had rehearsed this moment.
Not deliberately. Not in the way of someone who sits down and plans a conversation. But in the involuntary way that the mind rehearses things it is afraid of, running through scenarios in the quiet hours, at three in the morning when the street outside was empty and sleep was a theoretical concept, working through what I would say and how I would say it and how I would make sure my voice sounded like a woman who was completely fine.
All of that rehearsal and the first thing I said was nothing.
Just silence. My hand around my phone on the Cebu boulevard with the copper evening light on the water and the food stalls setting up behind me and my heart doing something that had no name I was willing to give it.
"Maia." His voice again. Steadier than mine would ha
