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The alarm didn't even get to finish its first chime before Cyrene’s thumb hit the screen. 6:00 AM. Exact.
She sat at the edge of her bed for a full three minutes, waiting for her brain to sync with the quiet gray light filtering through her window. The house was silent, save for the faint, rhythmic hum of her lolo’s oxygen concentrator from the downstairs bedroom. It was a comforting sound now, a sign that he was stable, breathing, and still here.
Eighteen months ago, that machine wasn't a comforting hum; it was a terrifying countdown.
Cyrene walked to the kitchen, her movements entirely mechanical. Scoop the coffee grounds. Pour the water. No sugar. No milk. Just black, bitter, and functional. While the coffee brewed, she peeked into her lolo's room. He was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly. Her mom was curled up on the small cot beside him, resting her eyes before the daytime nurse arrived.
Everything was fine. The family was intact. The shaking had stopped.
But as Cyrene leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her coffee, her gaze drifted to the empty space on her left ring finger. The skin there used to be slightly paler than the rest of her hand, a small, stubborn band of white where a silver ring had sat for exactly three weeks. Now, the tan had evened out. The mark was gone, but the phantom weight remained.
“Mahal kita, Cy. Pero natatakot ako,” Mona’s voice still echoed in the quiet corners of her mind whenever she let her guard down. It was the night before Mona left for Sydney. “Nakita ko kung paano nawasak yung pamilya namin nung nagkahiwalay si Mama at Papa. Buong buhay ko, nung iniwan ako sa Pilipinas, hinanap ko yung kalahati ko. Ngayong nahanap ko sila doon.. kailangan kong pumunta. Pero tingnan mo yung sitwasyon mo ngayon. Si Lolo, ang pamilya mo.. gabi-gabi kang umiiyak sa pagod. Kung ipipilit ko pa 'tong engagement natin, dadagdag lang ako sa isipin mo. Ang layo ng Australia, Cy. Hindi tayo mabubuhay sa tawag lang. Never pa tayong nagkahiwalay.”
Mona had cried harder than Cyrene did that night. She thought she was doing the noble thing, sacrificing their love so Cyrene wouldn't have to carry the burden of a long-distance relationship while her family was falling apart. Mona chose to walk away cleanly, leaving no loose threads, no promises of a return. She chose her childhood wounds over their future.
And Cyrene? Cyrene just let her go. She didn't have the energy to fight for Mona when she was literally begging the universe to keep her lolo alive.
Now, a year and a half later, Cyrene was the definition of "functional." She caught the 7:15 AM MRT, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with thousands of other numb commuters, and arrived at her office cubicle by exactly 8:00 AM.
"Grabe, Cy, ang tibay mo," her college friends would tell her during their rare dinners. "Kung ako yung iniwan ng mapapangasawa ko habang nasa ICU ang lolo ko, baka nagpakamatay na ako. Pero look at you, ang galing sa trabaho, blooming pa rin."
Cyrene would just smile, drink her water, and change the subject. They didn't understand. She wasn't strong. She was just dead inside. The grief hadn't killed her; it had just turned off her nerve endings. She lived in a perpetual, safe, freezing winter where nothing hurt because nothing moved.
Exactly 12:00 PM on a Tuesday. Cyrene closed her third Excel spreadsheet for the morning, neatly aligned her gray ballpoint pen next to her mousepad, and reached into her bag for her lunch. It was a reusable glass container filled with boiled chicken breast, unseasoned quinoa, and steamed broccoli. It tasted like cardboard, but it had the exact macros she needed. Efficiency over everything.
Thud.
A large plastic cup, heavy with ice and sweating profusely with condensation, dropped directly onto her keyboard, sliding into her space and nearly knocking over her organizer.
Cyrene froze. Her eyes traced the cup up to a hand adorned with silver rings and a stack of colorful, childish beaded bracelets. Past the wrist was a forearm covered in a faded ink tattoo of a sun, leading to a girl wearing an oversized tie-dye shirt that screamed in neon shades of yellow and pink. The girl was popping her chewing gum, looking down at Cyrene with a grin that felt entirely too bright for a corporate office.
"Grande Iced White Mocha, extra shot, less sweet," the girl said, her voice casual, lively, and completely disregarding the quiet office etiquette. "Bumili ako sa baba. Sabi kasi ni Ma'am Bel, mukha ka raw hihimatayin sa kaseryosohan diyan sa pwesto mo. Sabi ko, sige, sagot ko na ang kape ng top analyst natin."
Cyrene frowned, her neat boundaries suddenly violated. She carefully pushed the sweating cup away from her paperwork. "Sino ka? At paano mo nalaman ang order ko?"
"Ako si Summer," the girl replied easily. She dragged an empty rolling chair from the next cubicle, spun it around, and sat on it backwards, resting her chin on the backrest. "New hire sa marketing. Just started yesterday. At yung kape mo? Tinanong ko kay Ma'am Bel. Sabi niya paborito mo raw 'yan dati, pero isang taon mo na raw hindi ino-order kasi... ano nga uli yung term? 'Waste of caloric intake and budget constraints?' Grabe, Cyrene. Masyado kang matipid sa sarili mo. Masama sa balat ang walang asukal."
"I have a routine, Summer," Cyrene said, her voice flat, trying to maintain her icy composure while the scent of espresso and sweet condensed milk invaded her senses. "And I don't usually accept drinks from strangers."
"Edi hindi na tayo strangers ngayon," Summer shot back, her eyes twinkling with pure mischief. She reached out and lightly tapped the lid of Cyrene’s Tupperware. "Ibigay mo na lang sa pusa yang pinakuluang karton na kinakain mo. Your schedule just got officially hijacked. Tara, kain tayo sa labas. May masarap na paresan sa kanto, yung umuusok pa."
"May baon ako—"
"Ipang-dinner mo na lang 'yan," Summer interrupted, already standing up and grabbing Cyrene’s lanyard from the desk. "Gumalaw ka na, Cy. Isang minuto mo nang tinititigan yung spreadsheet mo nang walang tinatype. Nahuli kita."
For the first time in eighteen months, Cyrene felt a spike of something that wasn't numbness. It was irritation, mixed with a bizarre, terrifying tremor of adrenaline. She looked at the iced coffee, then at Summer’s ridiculous, waiting grin.
Against her better judgment, Cyrene stood up.
Summer was a localized weather disturbance. Wherever she went, the temperature rose, the noise level increased, and Cyrene’s perfectly constructed walls threatened to crumble.
Over the next two months, Summer made it her personal mission to wreck Cyrene’s schedules. She didn't do it maliciously; she did it with an infectious, casual persistence that Cyrene found impossible to fight off. Summer would show up at Cyrene’s cubicle at 3:00 PM with a handful of cheap street food skewers. She would randomly send Spotify links to chaotic Pinoy indie-pop songs with texts like: “PAKINGGAN MO 'TO, MUKHANG BAGAY SA 'YO YUNG TRACK 3 KASI TUNOG MASUNGIT.”
At first, Cyrene tried to resist. She felt a deep, lingering guilt. Every time she caught herself smiling at a meme Summer sent, or every time she realized she hadn't thought about Mona for a full twenty-four hours, a cold heavy fist would squeeze her heart. Paano ako magiging masaya? she’d ask herself in the dark. Mona is out there somewhere, dealing with her own broken family, and I'm here laughing at stupid jokes?
But Summer didn't give her time to drown in her own head. She didn't demand deep emotional breakthroughs; she just demanded Cyrene’s presence.
One Thursday, Cyrene’s mom called in a panic. Her lolo’s blood pressure had spiked, and they needed to bring him to the hospital for a routine but urgent cardiovascular check-up. Cyrene’s hands shook as she packed her laptop. The familiar, suffocating panic from a year and a half ago threatened to swallow her whole.
As she rushed out of the office lobby, she ran straight into Summer, who was holding a bag of takeout.
"Huy, Cy? Saan ang takbo?" Summer asked, her smile fading instantly when she saw Cyrene’s pale face.
"Si.. si Lolo. Kailangan sa ospital. I need to go," Cyrene stammered, looking around frantically for a Grab car on her phone.
"Susi ko," Summer said instantly, tossing a keychain into the air and catching it. "Tara. Saan ba?"
"H-huwag na, Summer, abala—"
"Sumakay ka na lang sa kotse, Cyrene, bago pa kita buhatin," Summer said, her tone suddenly dropping its usual playful edge, replacing it with a firm, grounded warmth.
During the entire three-hour ordeal at the hospital lobby, Summer never left. She didn't hover or ask invasive questions. Instead, she sat on the cramped, uncomfortable plastic chairs, quietly playing a handheld console. Every now and then, she would slide a piece of hopia or a bottle of water into Cyrene's hands.
When the doctor finally came out and said her lolo was fine, just needing a adjustment in his medication, Cyrene let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding for a year. She looked over at Summer, who was currently asleep with her head tilted awkwardly against the concrete wall, still holding the empty plastic bag from their snacks.
Cyrene walked over, gently shaking her shoulder. Summer blinked her eyes open, yawning like a cat.
"Okay na?" Summer mumbled.
"Okay na," Cyrene whispered. "Stable na siya. Pwede na kaming umuwi."
Summer smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sabi sa 'yo, malakas si Lolo eh. Tara, hatid ko na kayo."
Cyrene looked at Summer, really looked at her, and felt the first major fracture in her icy armor. The cold wasn't protecting her anymore; it was just keeping her lonely.
The breaking point came on a humid Saturday evening in May. Summer had practically begged Cyrene to go on a spontaneous road trip to Antipolo. "Para makakita naman tayo ng totoong langit, hindi lang kisame ng opisina," she had argued.
Naturally, because Summer’s life was a series of chaotic events, her beat-up 2014 silver sedan groaned, sputtered, and died completely along a dark, deserted stretch of a provincial highway, miles away from the main city overlooks.
"Okay, so.. evaluated the situation," Summer said, wiping a smudge of black grease onto her cheek after popping the hood. "The engine is hot, I have no coolant, and I don't know what a spark plug looks like. We are officially stranded until the tow truck gets here in two hours."
Cyrene sighed, but strangely, she wasn't angry. A few months ago, this would have ruined her entire week. Now, she just looked at Summer’s grease-stained face and felt a bubble of laughter rise in her chest.
"Anong gagawin natin dito?" Cyrene asked, gesturing to the dark trees surrounding the road.
"Aba, wag sasayangin ang gabi," Summer said, grabbing a thick plaid blanket from the backseat. She climbed onto the hood of the car, then carefully stepped onto the roof, spreading the blanket across the metal. "Panalo ang view dito. Akyat ka."
Cyrene hesitated, looking at her clean jeans, but then shrugged. She climbed up, sitting cross-legged next to Summer. The metal roof creaked slightly under their weight. Above them, away from the harsh city lights, the sky was a deep, velvet indigo, peppered with a million tiny, brilliant stars. The breeze was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and wild grass.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't heavy; it was comfortable, filled only with the distant chorus of crickets.
"Dito rin kami madalas pumunta ni Mona nung college," Cyrene said softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them. It was the first time she had mentioned Mona’s name out loud to Summer.
Summer shifted, turning her head to look at Cyrene, her dark eyes reflecting the starlight. She didn't say anything, just giving a small, encouraging nod.
"Childhood sweethearts," Cyrene continued, her voice trembling slightly. "I thought.. safe na ako. Alam mo yung pakiramdam na handa ka nang harapin yung buong mundo kasi kasama mo yung taong nakakita sa 'yo nung dugyot ka pa nung elementary? We were engaged. Tapos.. nung biglang nagkasabay-sabay yung problema, nung natakot siya sa LDR at sa responsibilidad.. iniwan niya ako bigla. Hindi man lang niya sinubukan."
A tear slipped down Cyrene’s cheek, hot and stinging. She didn't wipe it away.
"Nung umalis siya, kasabay nung muntik nang mawala si Lolo.. pakiramdam ko gumuho lahat. Ang tagal kong naging static, Summer. Safe kasi yung walang nararamdaman. Natatakot ako na kapag hinayaan kong uminit uli 'tong puso ko, baka bigla lang ulit lumamig. Baka maiwan na naman ako sa dilim."
Summer didn't give a grand speech. She didn't promise that she would stay forever, because she knew promises were fragile things. Instead, she just reached out, her warm fingers gently sliding into Cyrene’s cold hand, intertwining their fingers. Her touch was grounding, solid, and intensely real.
"Mona was your past, Cy. At hindi ko naman gustong burahin o pantayan 'un, kasi part 'un ng kung sino ka ngayon," Summer said, her voice dropping into a soft, melodic register that vibrated straight into Cyrene’s chest. "Naiintindihan ko kung bakit ka natatakot. Binagyo ka eh. Nasira yung bahay mo habang natutulog ka sa loob."
Summer turned her body fully toward Cyrene, her thumb gently brushing away the tear on Cyrene's cheek. Her touch felt like a physical spark against Cyrene's numb skin.
"Pero hindi mo pwedeng panindigan yung lamig habangbuhay porket binagyo yung unang tagsibol mo, Cy. Deserve mong mabuhay. Deserve mong maramdaman yung init uli."
Summer smiled, a soft, breathtakingly tender expression that completely disarmed Cyrene.
"Let me show you what Summer feels like."
Cyrene looked at her, her breath catching. The wall didn't just crack; it shattered completely, falling away to reveal a heart that was beating fast, terrifyingly alive, and desperately longing for the warmth in front of her.
Cyrene closed the distance, her hand moving to the back of Summer’s neck, pulling her into a kiss. It was clumsy, desperate, and filled with the pent-up heat of eighteen months of freezing. Summer let out a soft gasp against her lips before melting into the kiss, her arms winding tightly around Cyrene's waist, pulling her flush against her.
On top of a broken-down car under a canopy of stars, Cyrene finally defrosted.
Three months later, the rainy season had officially started, but inside Cyrene’s apartment, it felt like a permanent July.
The 6:00 AM alarm still went off. Cyrene still woke up, but the kitchen counter was no longer a place of mechanical isolation. The single cup of bitter black coffee had been replaced by a French press filled with a weird hazelnut blend that Summer had insisted on buying because “amoy masayang umaga siya, Cy.”
"Huy, asan yung pink kong medyas?" a voice groaned from the bedroom.
Summer stumbled into the kitchen, her hair a chaotic, birds-nest mess, wearing one of Cyrene’s oversized gray corporate button-downs. She looked ridiculous, completely out of place in Cyrene’s minimalist, perfectly organized apartment, and Cyrene had never loved a sight more.
"Nasa ibabaw ng dryer, paniguro," Cyrene said, smiling as she poured two mugs of coffee.
From the living room, her lolo was sitting on his favorite armchair, watching a morning talk show on the TV. He looked healthy, a bit heavier now, and he waved his hand weakly at Summer as she jogged past him to get her socks. "Yung medyas mo, nasa banyo!" the old man called out, chuckling.
Cyrene leaned against the counter, holding her warm mug. She looked down at her left hand. The skin was completely uniform now. She had finally taken the old engagement ring out of her drawer a week ago and dropped it into a donation box at a local church. It wasn't done out of anger or hatred toward Mona. It was just an acknowledgment that that season had ended. Mona was a beautiful story from her childhood, but she belonged to a book that was already closed.
Summer walked back into the kitchen, successfully wearing matching pink socks, and immediately wrapped her arms around Cyrene’s waist from behind, burying her face into the crook of Cyrene’s neck.
"Inaantok pa ako," Summer mumbled against her skin, her breath warm.
Cyrene turned around in her embrace, holding Summer close, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of Summer’s heart against her own. She took a sip of her sweet, fragrant coffee.
"Salamat," Cyrene whispered, kissing the top of Summer’s messy head.
"Para saan?" Summer asked, looking up with her signature, sleepy grin.
"Para sa init," Cyrene said, her voice thick with genuine happiness.
The winter was gone, the storm had passed, and the ice had completely melted.
Suddenly, it was Summer.