The Wrong Kind of Hope
1440 Words
Clara
I was in trouble.
Not the dramatic kind.
Not life-or-death kind.
Worse.
The emotional kind.
The kind where your chest starts beating too fast because someone looked at you too gently.
The kind where your brain keeps saying:
Don’t fall.
while your heart quietly whispers:
Too late.
I spent almost an hour staring at my ceiling after coming home yesterday.
Reig’s words replayed nonstop inside my head.
“I’m not going anywhere this time.”
Idiot.
Why would he say things like that so casually?
Did he not realize how dangerous those words were?
I buried my face into my pillow with a frustrated groan.
Because the worst part?
I wanted to believe him.
And that was exactly why I couldn’t.
Reig deserved someone stable.
Someone certain.
Not someone who cried in public after a phone call from her mother.
Not someone who still didn’t know what to do with her own life.
Slowly, I sat up and looked toward my laptop resting near the edge of the bed.
My art page was still open.
Hundreds of drawings.
Commission requests.
Messages from clients.
Proof that somewhere along the way, I built something that actually made me feel alive.
And now I had to let it go.
I stared blankly at the screen.
Maybe if I looked at it long enough, the decision would magically become easier.
It didn’t.
My chest still hurt.
But eventually, I inhaled deeply and opened my messages one by one.
I apologized to every client.
Explained that I wouldn’t be accepting commissions anymore.
Some were understanding.
Some sounded disappointed.
One even told me my art comforted them during difficult days.
That message almost made me cry again.
Almost.
Hours passed before only one thing remained on the screen.
Delete Page?
My finger hovered over the button.
This page had been mine.
My small secret world.
The one thing in my life that felt completely chosen by me.
Not my parents.
Not expectations.
Me.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Then clicked.
Delete.
Just like that
Gone.
Silence filled the room afterward.
I waited for heartbreak.
For tears.
For regret.
But strangely
Nothing came.
Only emptiness.
And maybe exhaustion.
I leaned back slowly against my chair.
This was the right thing.
Wasn’t it?
Maybe I really should stop delaying the inevitable.
Sooner or later I had to go back anyway.
Maybe this was life.
Maybe growing up meant learning how to bury the things you loved.
The thought felt unbearably sad.
So the next morning, I forced myself out of bed early and went to the gym for the first time in weeks.
Honestly?
It felt horrible.
My body complained immediately.
My legs hated me.
My lungs filed multiple formal complaints.
But after a while
It helped.
The ache in my muscles distracted me from the ache inside my chest.
And somehow that felt nice.
By the time I finished showering afterward, the weather outside had turned unusually beautiful.
Soft morning sunlight spread across the streets while cool wind brushed gently against my skin.
Peaceful.
For once, Manila didn’t feel overwhelming.
It felt light.
And strangely enough
So did I.
Maybe not okay.
But lighter.
So instead of going straight home, I decided to stop by Sara’s café.
Technically, bread and sweet coffee after gym was a terrible idea.
But honestly?
I wanted it.
And for once, I wanted to make a decision simply because I wanted to.
No guilt.
No expectations.
Just me choosing something small for myself.
Baby steps.
I carried my laptop with me too, planning to organize my re-enrollment documents while eating breakfast.
Responsible.
Productive.
Trying-to-fix-my-life behavior.
Sara immediately looked up when I entered the café.
“Well look who’s alive.”
“I go here every week.”
“Yes, but now you look emotionally moisturized.”
I blinked. “What does that even mean?”
“You’re glowing slightly.”
“I went to the gym once.”
“That explains the rare sighting.”
I laughed softly while approaching the counter.
“The usual please.”
Sara suddenly looked awkward.
“…About that.”
I frowned slightly. “What?”
“Someone already ordered for you.”
My eyebrows lifted immediately.
“What?”
Sara failed miserably at hiding her smile before pointing toward my usual table near the window.
And instantly
My heartbeat betrayed me again.
Reig sat there like he owned the entire café without even trying.
Black fitted long sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. Glasses resting low against his nose while scrolling through his iPad casually, looking unfairly attractive for someone simply existing.
His dark hair looked slightly messy today.
Unfair.
Very unfair.
Meanwhile, I stood frozen near the counter like an i***t.
Sara leaned closer dramatically.
“You know,” she whispered, “I support this.”
“Sara.”
“He bought your usual order without asking.”
“That’s not romantic. That’s stalking.”
“He’s hot enough that it stops being creepy.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m observant.”
I sighed deeply before finally walking toward the table.
Reig looked up the moment I approached.
And immediately smiled.
Warm.
Easy.
Dangerously gentle.
“Morning, rabbit.”
My chest did that stupid thing again.
That loud beating thing.
I ignored it immediately.
“Why are you here?”
Reig looked entirely unashamed.
“You said this was your favorite café.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It answers enough.”
I narrowed my eyes while he calmly pushed the coffee and pastry toward me.
My usual order.
Still warm.
“I figured,” he said softly, “you’d come anyway.”
“You’re weird.”
“You liked the coffee shop.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“It’s enough for me.”
God.
Why did he always answer like that?
Like he already knew something I didn’t.
I slowly sat down across from him while trying very hard to act unaffected.
Unfortunately, Reig looked annoyingly good this morning.
Black sleeves rolled up neatly.
Glasses low against his nose.
Calm expression.
Like some overworked CEO in a K-drama.
It was irritating.
Especially because he looked completely unaware of it.
“You look like you reject people’s loan applications for fun,” I muttered.
Reig glanced up slowly.
“…What?”
“You heard me.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“You have the face of someone who says ‘unfortunately your request has been denied.’”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
And wow.
That was also irritating.
“You’ve been awake for less than three hours,” he said. “Why are you already attacking me?”
“I went to the gym today. I’ve suffered enough.”
His eyes flickered over me briefly.
“Gym?”
“Yes.”
“You voluntarily exercised?”
I gasped dramatically.
“Why are you acting shocked?”
“Because last time I checked, your favorite hobby was bedrotting.”
“That was emotional recovery.”
“That lasted months.”
“That’s called dedication.”
His shoulders shook slightly with laughter again.
And annoyingly enough
Something inside my chest loosened hearing it.
Which was bad.
Very bad.
Because I already made my decision yesterday.
I was supposed to fix my life.
Focus on school.
Get myself together.
Not sit inside cafés getting distracted by a man who smiled at me like I was still his favorite person after all these years.
“So,” I muttered while opening my laptop awkwardly, “are you planning to haunt me now?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“If haunting you gets me coffee regularly.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
My fingers paused above the keyboard.
Because somehow
That sentence felt heavier than it should’ve.
Then Reig noticed the documents open on my screen.
Enrollment forms.
Requirements.
Schedules.
His expression shifted slightly.
“You’re really going back.”
Not a question.
A statement.
I swallowed softly.
“…Yeah.”
Silence settled briefly between us.
Not awkward.
Just heavy.
Then quietly—
“Does it make you happy?”
The question caught me off guard instantly.
Because nobody ever asked me that before.
Not my parents.
Not relatives.
Not even myself sometimes.
Only:
Is it practical?
Is it stable?
Is it right?
Happy never seemed important enough to ask.
I stared blankly at the screen.
Then laughed softly without humor.
“I don’t think happiness is part of the plan anymore.”
And for the first time that morning
Reig stopped smiling.
- Writer
