Love Found Me Again
My present
A Woman stood in front of a big glass panel. Looking through it, she saw rain pouring down, but it could not wash away her sorrow and pain.
After a while, the rain stopped. On the streets below, she saw a man go down on one knee with a ring box, proposing to a young girl holding a pink, flowered bouquet. Her eyes screamed, "Don't believe him." She drifted into her own trail of thoughts until the phone in her office rang, breaking her reverie.
The man on the other end of the line spoke to her: "Hello, Jays. Your father passed away."
The news came all too suddenly.
Tears trickled down her cheeks, warm against the cold stillness that had taken over her body. Her chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe — not properly. The room seemed to shrink around her, every sound muffled by the storm rising inside her.
She wanted the pain to stop.
Wanted the heartache to end.
Wanted, more than anything, to fall apart.
But she couldn’t.
Because she was the one who always held everything together.
The one who stayed calm when others shattered. The one who swallowed her grief to become a pillar for everyone else’s.
And now, even with the weight of loss pressing into her lungs, she sat in silence. The line had long gone dead.
Still, she stayed there — staring out the window, the world outside carrying on as if nothing had changed. As if her world hadn’t just broken open again.
At the Gayle mansion, everyone wore black — the color of mourning. Their eyes were tense, their nerves frayed by the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Whispers filled the halls, each one carrying quiet fear about the unknown future.
The car pulled into the gate, and Jays stepped out hurriedly, weaving through the crowd toward the mourning hall, where her father lay — ready to be taken to the church for his final prayer before being laid to rest.
The heavy doors of the mourning hall stood open, but to Jays, it felt like crossing a threshold into a world she wasn’t ready to face.
Her steps slowed. The murmur of voices around her faded, swallowed by the deafening thud of her heartbeat. Her fingers trembled at her sides, clenched tight as if holding herself together by force.
And then she saw him.
There, surrounded by flowers and silence, her father lay — too still, too quiet.
Her knees felt weak, but she didn’t fall. She couldn’t. Too many eyes were watching. Too many people needed her to be strong — again.
But inside, she was breaking.
She stood there frozen, the storm locked inside her chest.
My loss
After what felt like ages staring at her now peacefully sleeping father, Papa stepped beside her. Russel Rodriguez had once been a man feared by all—strong, commanding, larger than life. But through everything, he had remained by Jay’s side, guiding her, teaching her, never faltering. He had been there through every up and down of her life.
But time had taken its toll. Age had worn him down, leaving him fragile, his once-powerful frame now confined to a wheelchair.
Papa
Jays “Your dad had a cardiac arrest this morning. It— it happened so fast. He was gone in five minutes…”
For a moment, Jay said nothing. Her eyes welled up, but she didn’t cry. Instead, she let out a soft, shaky breath—a sigh of relief.
Jays
"At least he didn’t suffer,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Russel didn’t know what to say at this point. The words just wouldn’t come. His heart was a storm—grief crashing into despair, despair giving way to anger, and anger folding back into the ache of loss.
But as he looked at Jays—still standing, still trying to be brave—he knew he couldn’t fall apart. Not now.
She needed him to be strong.
So he took a slow breath and said the only thing he could manage:
“We’ll get through this. Together.”
The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and Victor stepped inside, his presence as steady and grounded as ever. Dressed in his usual dark suit, he moved with quiet purpose, his eyes scanning the room before settling on Jays.
He had been by her side for the last seven years—first as her assistant, then gradually becoming her protector, her shield, especially after Papa began to fall ill. With Russel growing more fragile by the day, it was Victor who stepped in, taking on the weight of responsibilities.
Victor
The priest just called, he said everything’s been arranged. They’re waiting for us at the church whenever you’re ready.
Jays looked at her father one last time, his face calm in rest, and reached for Russel’s hand.
Jays
"We should go,” she whispered
Russel gave a slow nod, swallowing hard.
My Goodbye
The car ride to the church was quiet.
Jays sat in the backseat, staring out the window as the city moved past in a blur of muted color and sound. The world hadn’t changed, but hers had shifted entirely. The silence inside the car wasn’t awkward—it was sacred. A moment to breathe. To process. To grieve without words.
As the church came into view—its tall stone spire rising against the pale morning sky—Jays felt a sudden lump rise in her throat.
The car pulled into the small lot beside the church, where a few early mourners were already gathered. The priest stood at the entrance, his hands folded, eyes solemn but welcoming.
Victor stepped out first, rounding the car to open Jays door.
Jays and her people entered the church in silence. The familiar scent of incense and old wood filled the space.
At the front, the casket had been placed gently in its final position—centered beneath the great cross, surrounded by white lilies and quiet reverence. It looked so still. So final.
The priest began to speak, his voice echoing gently through the high ceilings. Words of comfort, of faith, of passing into peace. But Jays barely heard them.
Her eyes were fixed on the polished wood of the casket. Her mind was far away—lost in half-formed memories.
It wasn’t until she heard her name—soft, respectful—from the priest’s lips that she returned to the moment.
Everything inside her stilled.
Jays approached the casket slowly, her footsteps echoing softly through the church.
She stopped just in front of the casket, her breath catching in her throat as she reached out with trembling fingers and placed them gently on the smooth wood.
For a moment, she said nothing. The weight of a thousand memories pressed down on her chest—but then, in a voice barely above a whisper, full of love and grief and strength, she spoke.
Jays
Dad, I’ve got your back. Rest in peace.
As she pulled away, a single tear slid down her cheek, but her spine was straight. Her hands no longer trembled.
She turned and walked back down the aisle, the echo of her goodbye lingering in the air like a prayer.
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