Thadeus’s Point of View
“Oh.”
Hara’s voice sliced through the night’s silence as she handed me a cold can of beer. I took it from her—not because I wanted to drink, but because my hands suddenly felt too empty.
“Thanks,” I muttered, forcing a small smile.
She nodded and plopped herself beside me on the hood of my car. We were parked at a cliffside overlooking the city—the kind of place where people go to think, or cry, or pretend they aren’t hurting. The skyline glowed with colors, neon stretching across the dark horizon like a lifeline.
“Be grateful that I’m actually here in the Philippines right now,” Hara announced dramatically. “If not, you’d be sulking here alone in your tragic heartbreak movie scene.”
She nudged me with her elbow.
I huffed a weak laugh. “Yeah. Lucky me.”
I op
