Fifth Goodbye

Chapter 3: Wrong Deception(Mild SPG)

Late.

She learned it too late.

If it hadn’t been for the gossip—the whispered, cutting stories of neighbors and common friends—Evelyn wouldn't have known. They always said news traveled fast in circles like theirs, but heartbreak? Heartbreak arrived like a delayed punch—silent at first, then hitting so hard it made everything else blur.

A promotion abroad.

A dream they both once shared.

A ticket out of the decaying promise of their motherland.

But Allan never told her. Not a word. Not a hint. No warning.

She was mad.

No—she was infuriated.

They talked about this. About leaving together, building a new life somewhere opportunities didn’t come with a hundred strings attached. But now here she was—still here—surrounded by rising prices, unlivable wages, and the mockery of government policies that failed even the simplest of men. The fields, once hopeful in the hands of farmers, now yielded barely enough to break even. How do you even survive when fertilizer, labor, and land are all bought at a price and sold at a loss?

A message popped up on her phone.

One line. From him.

Babe!

Sorry na at di ko agad nasabi na I got a promotion abroad. Humahanap lang ako ng tyempo.

From: Allan

"Potek," she hissed under her breath. "Parang ako pa ‘tong mali."

He was the one who kept the truth. He was the one who chose silence over honesty. Yet somehow, the guilt felt like hers.

She would have understood. Would’ve even supported him.

But he didn’t give her the chance.

She tossed her phone across the bed, burying her face in her hands. Her chest ached—not just from betrayal, but from confusion. Why keep something so important from her? Why make her hear it from strangers?

Ping!

Another notification.

Annoyed, she grabbed the phone, expecting more half-hearted apologies.

Instead, it was a was video file at dali dali niyang binuksan.

And then her world cracked.

The first thing she recognized was his voice

Soft. Sinful. Familiar.

The camera was shaky, but it didn’t need to be in HD to see the truth.

Allan?

Naked. Sweaty. Grinning.

His shirt and pants tossed aside on the bamboo papag.

And beneath him—a woman moaning, writhing, lost in pleasure.

Evelyn's hands trembled, but she couldn’t look away. Every thrust, every grunt, every sinful word spilled from their mouths like a curse straight into her ears.

“Ah ah ah that's it! Faster baby!—Damn harder.”

The woman moaned like she had nothing to lose. Like she had no conscience. Like she didn't care who she was betraying.

And when the camera panned—when it finally caught her face—Evelyn nearly screamed.

Angela.

Her cousin. Her own blood.

The same girl who cried beside her during their childhood. The same girl who stayed in her home for months during hard times. The same girl who once said, "Kahit anong mangyari, I'm always on your side."

Now she was on top of her boyfriend.

Evelyn’s breath caught. Her chest tightened as though someone reached into her and gripped her lungs.

“So, sinong mas masarap—ako o si Evelyn?” Angela chuckled cruelly.

“Don’t mention her… We’re not here for her,” Allan whispered.

“Poor Evelyn…” Angela clicked her tongue.

Poor Evelyn.

That line echoed. Mocked her.

She felt her knees go weak.

Cheated. Lied to. Betrayed. Not just by a man she loved, but by family.

Why? Why couldn’t they just leave her be? Why send the video? To flaunt it? To taunt her? To prove she was the fool in their love story?

She let the video play.

Watched every second like a punishment she deserved.

She didn't cry. Not yet.

But when the screen faded to black, she began laughing—hysterically, emptily, like a madwoman. Then came the sobs. And finally, the silence that only pain could carve.

---

That night, she dressed like armor.

Smoky eyes, crimson lips, and a dress too tight to breathe in but just enough to forget. She needed to go somewhere. Somewhere loud, where her screams could be muffled by bass and bodies. Somewhere the world wouldn't care if she was breaking inside.

Palacios—the bar where mistakes were forgiven in the haze of alcohol and forgettable faces.

She stepped inside, the neon lights catching the gloss of her lips. The music hit her chest like a second heartbeat. People danced like they didn't owe the world anything. Maybe she could too.

"One tequila. Straight."

Then another.

And another.

She didn’t care how many.

Her limbs grew numb. Her mind is hazy. But the pain—ah, the pain refused to drown.

The room began to spin, and the ground beneath her pulsed like a slow-moving wave.

I need to pee.

She staggered toward the restroom, gripping walls and tables for support. Then, as fate would have it, her heel snagged on the rug. She stumbled—and fell.

Straight into someone’s chest.

“Watch where you’re going, woman!” a deep voice growled, rough and commanding.

She looked up, vision blurred.

One hand gripped his shoulder. Hard. Solid. Warm.

Then her gaze steadied.

He had a jawline that could cut glass, thick lashes framing eyes as dark as midnight. His lips were curled, annoyed and unwelcoming. But he was… breathtaking.

“Y-You...” she slurred, blinking.

Then her mouth twitched into a drunken, broken smile.

“... Handsome.”