“Swipe Right, Left Hanging, Came Back Running”

Tears

The afternoon sun cast shimmering ripples on the pool’s surface as I kicked gently, floating on my back. The water was cool against my skin, soothing, almost enough to quiet my restless thoughts. Almost.

Sam was a few feet away, sitting at the edge of the pool with his legs submerged. His phone was pressed to his ear, his voice low and unreadable.

I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Not really.

But something about the way he spoke—calm, familiar, comfortable—made my stomach tighten with unease. So I did what any normal person would do in this situation.

I swam closer.

Not too close. Just enough to hear.

The problem was, the water wasn’t exactly helping. Every small splash, every movement, every ripple muffled his words. I caught bits and pieces, but nothing substantial. It could have been work, a friend, maybe family. Nothing to overthink. Nothing to—

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t just any laugh. It was the kind of laugh that felt genuine, effortless, the kind he rarely gave—reserved only for someone he was comfortable with.

And then, before ending the call, he said it.

"I love you."

The world stopped.

My body tensed, my breath caught in my throat, and for a split second, I wished the water would just swallow me whole.

I wanted to drown.

Because if I did, maybe I wouldn’t have to face the fact that I might not be the only one in his life.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay still in the water, even though every cell in my body screamed for answers.

Who was he talking to?

The words echoed in my head, loud and relentless. But I swallowed them down, forcing myself to act like I didn’t hear anything. Like I wasn’t affected. Like I wasn’t seconds away from losing my mind.

I wanted to ask. I really did. The question sat on the tip of my tongue, burning, begging to be spoken. But I bit it back.

I didn’t want to look childish. I didn’t want to seem like some jealous, immature woman who couldn’t handle a simple "I love you" from a man who wasn’t even mine to begin with.

So I did the only thing I could. I maintained my composure.

I took a deep breath, plastered a neutral expression on my face, and turned away. I swam to the other side of the pool, pretending I was just enjoying the water, pretending I didn’t feel like my entire chest was caving in.

When I glanced back at him, he was still sitting there, scrolling through his phone like nothing happened.

Like he didn’t just completely shatter me without even knowing it.

A sudden splash broke through my thoughts, and before I could even turn to see what caused it, I felt strong arms wrap around me from behind. The warmth of his embrace was immediate, melting away some of the tension in my chest—though not entirely.

I stiffened for a moment, my mind still tangled with unanswered questions, but his familiar scent and the way his arms held me made it difficult to stay rigid.

His voice was close to my ear, low and teasing. “Wanna do a breath-holding competition? See if you actually learned something from our swimming lessons?”

I clenched my fists under the water.

He sounded so normal. So casual. Like he didn’t just say I love you to someone else a few minutes ago. Like my world hadn’t just tilted off its axis.

I forced a smile, though I wasn’t sure if it reached my eyes. “Sure,” I said, my voice laced with bitterness.

I wasn’t the competitive type—not with him, at least. I knew I wasn’t anywhere near his level when it came to swimming, but right now, I needed an outlet. A way to vent the frustration brewing inside me. If I couldn’t demand answers, then I’d challenge him instead.

We took our positions in the water, facing each other now, and he gave me a small smirk as if he already knew how this was going to end.

“Ready?” he asked.

I gave him a determined nod, refusing to back down.

"Three... two... one."

We both took a deep breath and submerged ourselves underwater.

The moment I went under, the silence was deafening. No splashes, no background noise—just the pressure of the water surrounding me. I focused on keeping my breath steady, determined to last as long as I could.

I won’t lose easily.

Seconds passed, and my lungs started to burn. I kept my gaze locked on his, neither of us looking away. He looked so calm, so composed, while I could already feel the strain creeping in.

Just a little longer.

I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to break the surface, but my body had its limits. My chest tightened, my lungs begged for air, and before I could push myself further, I was forced to shoot up for a breath.

I gasped, inhaling deeply as my head broke the surface. My heart pounded both from exertion and frustration—not just because I lost, but because, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t beat him at anything. Not in swimming, not in this competition, and certainly not when it came to whatever was going on in his mind.

Sam emerged a few seconds later, shaking the water from his hair. "Forty seconds," he said, impressed. "Not bad."

I wiped my face and exhaled sharply. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t enough.

Because no matter how much effort I put in, I would always be a step behind him.

The moment I emerged from the water, I didn’t wait for him to say anything else. I climbed out of the pool, grabbed my towel, and reached for my phone, pretending to be busy—pretending that my mind wasn’t spinning with thoughts I couldn’t control.

My fingers scrolled mindlessly across the screen, but I wasn’t reading anything. I wasn’t even sure what app I opened. My thoughts kept circling back to his phone call, to the laugh, to the I love you.

Another wave of what ifs crashed into me.

What if he was talking to someone important? What if it was another woman? What if I was just fooling myself this entire time, thinking I meant something to him?

I clenched my jaw, gripping my phone tighter. It was annoying—how my brain never let me rest, how I kept creating scenarios that might not even be real. But at the same time, I couldn’t ignore it. I couldn’t just brush it off like it didn’t affect me.

Because it did.

Because, no matter how hard I tried to act indifferent, deep down, I knew I had to face the truth sooner or later.

Days passed in a blur, and before I knew it, the countdown had begun.

In just a few more days, Sam would be boarding a plane back to his country, leaving me behind with nothing but memories of the past twelve days—twelve days that felt more like five. Time had been cruel, slipping through my fingers faster than I could grasp it.

I hated thinking about goodbyes, so instead of dwelling on it, I chose to make the most of what little time we had left.

We spent our remaining days exploring Dumaguete City, visiting every tourist spot we could. From the peaceful ambiance of Rizal Boulevard, where we strolled hand in hand, to the breathtaking view at the Twin Lakes, every moment felt like a scene from a movie I didn’t want to end.

I memorized everything—his laughter echoing as we rode a tricycle together, the way he looked at me while we ate silvanas at Sans Rival, the warmth of his hand as he pulled me close while we watched the sunset.

I knew that no matter how hard I tried to freeze time, the day would still come when he’d have to leave. But for now, I pushed those thoughts away.

For now, I just wanted to enjoy every second with him.

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow through the window, but no matter how warm the light was, I couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in my chest.

I didn’t want to be emotional. I didn’t want to feel this way.

So, I did what I always did—I pretended.

I forced a smile, cracked jokes, and laughed louder than usual, hoping that if I distracted myself enough, the sadness creeping up on me would disappear. At first, it worked. We exchanged playful banter, teasing each other like we always did.

Until it didn’t.

One joke—one stupid joke—hit me the wrong way. It wasn’t even something big, nothing that should have mattered, but for some reason, it did.

The laughter died on my lips, and before I could stop myself, tears welled up in my eyes.

I tried to hold them back. God, why am I even crying? This is so shallow. But the more I fought it, the harder it became to control.

A tear slipped down my cheek, and Sam’s expression shifted from amused to completely stunned. He stared at me, as if trying to figure out what just happened, and then, with a small chuckle, he said, “You’re such a baby.”

I froze.

My tears didn’t stop, but my heart did.

That was it? That was all he had to say?

So, he never cared that much, huh?

A lump formed in my throat as the realization sank in. Maybe I had been too caught up in my own emotions. Maybe I had been foolish to think that he’d notice, that he’d care enough to ask what was wrong.

But he didn’t.

And that hurt more than whatever stupid joke had started this in the first place.