Before anything begins to break
Some people don't notice when they're falling apart.
Some people do—
they just don't know how to stop it.
—
Manila mornings were always too much.
Too bright.
Too loud.
Too alive.
The University of the Philippines Manila was already crowded before the sun even settled properly. Students walked fast like they were always late for something. Vendors called out from the sidewalks. Laughter filled spaces that didn't feel like they deserved it.
Everything looked normal.
It always does.
—
Xia Sormente walked through it like she belonged there.
Like she had always belonged there.
People noticed her, even when she wasn't trying. Not because she was loud, but because she didn't need to be. There was something about her—something steady, something sure—that made people look twice.
Volleyball player.
Nursing student.
Popular.
Put together.
—
That last one wasn't real.
But no one ever questioned it.
—
Xia had learned early that it was easier to look strong than to admit you weren't.
Because admitting things meant explaining.
And explaining meant talking about her father.
—
She didn't carry his name.
Not because she chose not to—
but because there was nothing to carry.
He left before she could remember anything about him. No voice. No face. No explanation. Just a space in her life that no one ever filled.
So she kept her mother's surname.
Sormente.
The name that stayed.
The name that reminded her that leaving was easy for people.
—
For a long time, Xia wondered if it was her fault.
If she just wasn't enough to make someone stay.
—
Eventually, she stopped wondering.
It didn't change anything anyway.
—
Her mother made sure of everything else.
Money was never a problem.
Opportunities were always there.
But love—
that was something Xia learned not to expect.
—
So she became someone who didn't need it.
Or at least—someone who made it look like she didn't.
—
There were things about her no one knew.
Things she kept quiet on purpose.
Because some truths weren't meant for people who only liked you when you were easy to understand.
—
Being seen was easy.
Being known was dangerous.
—
On the other side of campus—
someone else was trying to be invisible.
Maevis Chua didn't walk like she belonged anywhere.
She walked like she was careful not to get in the way.
Small steps.
Quiet presence.
Eyes that avoided attention without making it obvious.
—
People described her the same way every time.
Nice.
That was it.
-—
Not unforgettable.
Not important.
Just… there.
—
She was a dean's lister.
Smart. Responsible.
The kind of daughter parents showed off to others.
—
But what people saw wasn't the full picture.
It never was.
—
Maevis grew up in a house that looked complete.
A family that stayed together.
Rules that made sense—at least on the surface.
—
But love there came with conditions.
Be good.
Be proper.
Be normal.
—
And to them—
people who were different?
They were wrong.
—
So Maevis learned how to hide.
Not just her feelings.
But parts of herself she didn't fully understand yet.
Parts she knew wouldn't be accepted if anyone found out.
—
Even from her friends, she stayed quiet.
Because being honest meant risking everything.
And she wasn't ready for that.
—
She had a boyfriend.
Someone safe.
Someone her parents would approve of without question.
For a while, that felt like enough.
—
Until it wasn't.
—
Because the truth doesn't stay hidden forever.
Sometimes it shows up in the worst way possible.
—
A message.
A mistake.
Something she wasn't supposed to see—
but did.
—
And just like that, everything changed.
—
Maevis didn't make a scene.
Didn't cry in front of anyone.
Didn't ask questions she already knew the answers to.
—
She just stayed quiet.
Like always.
—
But something inside her shifted.
Something small—
but heavy enough to change everything.
—
She started pulling away.
Not enough for people to notice.
Just enough to protect herself.
—
Because it was easier to disappear a little
than to be left completely.
—
Two people.
Same campus.
Same sun.
Different kinds of silence.
—
One learned how to shine so no one would look too closely.
The other learned how to fade so no one would look at all.
—
And somewhere between all of that—
between pretending and breaking—
their paths were already moving toward each other.
—
Not in a way anyone would notice.
Not yet.
—
Just small moments waiting to happen.
—
Because sometimes,
the person who changes everything
is the one who sees you
right before you completely fall apart.
—
And when that moment finally comes—
will they be enough to save each other…
or will they only learn how to break together?