I unfollowed P'Fah on Instagram, a small act that felt monumental. The simple tap of a button was supposed to set me free, but instead, it left an ache in my chest. I stared at my phone screen for a moment longer, my thumb hovering over her profile picture before I forced myself to lock the screen.
That was it. I had to move on.
This love—this one-sided, forbidden love—had consumed me for too long. It was a love that never had the chance to bloom yet left me wounded as if it had. The kind of love that lingered like a shadow, always present, always aching. But no more. I needed to let her go, to stop chasing a dream that would never be anything more.
The next day, I confided in Pim. We met at a small café near her house, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. She listened intently as I poured out everything—how it started, how it ended, and the pain that refused to fade.
When I finished, her eyes widened slightly. "Wow, Kwan," she said, setting her cup down. "That's… a lot to process. But hey, no judgment here."
I managed a weak smile, grateful for her understanding.
Pim leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. "Look, moving on is tough. But you know what they say—sometimes the best way to get over someone is to find a rebound."
I frowned, the idea foreign to me. "A rebound?"
She nodded. "Yeah. It doesn't have to be serious. Just… put yourself out there.
Meet new people, have fun. It might help you stop thinking about her so much."
"I don't know," I admitted, stirring my drink absentmindedly. "I've never dated anyone before. P'Fah was the first person I ever… loved."
Pim gave me a sympathetic look. "I get it. But holding onto something that can't happen? It'll only hurt you more. You deserve to be happy, Kwan. Maybe meeting new people will help you see that."
Her words stayed with me long after our conversation ended. That night, I made a decision. I couldn't keep wallowing in heartache. I needed to try—try to move on, try to find happiness again, even if it felt impossible.
The following weeks saw a different version of me. I started hanging out more, saying yes to plans I'd usually avoid. Pim introduced me to a new group of friends— loud, carefree, and nothing like the people I usually surrounded myself with. They welcomed me with open arms, pulling me into their world of late-night hangouts, spontaneous road trips, and laughter that echoed into the early hours of the morning.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I found moments of peace. When I was with them, the constant weight of P'Fah's absence lightened, and my thoughts of her faded into the background. It wasn't a complete escape, but it was enough. Enough to remind me that there was life beyond her, beyond the pain.
One night, as we sat around a bonfire on the beach, one of the guys, Jay, handed me a drink and plopped down beside me. "You're quiet tonight," he said, nudging me with his shoulder. "What's on your mind?"
I looked out at the waves, their rhythmic crash soothing. "Just thinking about how different things feel lately," I admitted. "It's… nice."
Jay grinned, his face illuminated by the flickering flames. "That's the spirit. Life's too short to be stuck in the past, you know?"
I nodded, his words resonating. Maybe Pim was right. Maybe moving on wasn't about forgetting P'Fah entirely but about finding new experiences, new people, and maybe even a new kind of love.
And for the first time, I felt a spark of hope.
I've been coming home late these days, slipping into the house when the world outside had already fallen asleep. Tonight was no different—or so I thought. As I pushed open the front door, I didn't expect to see the living room light on.
There she was.
P'Fah sat on the couch, her arms crossed, her eyes sharp as they followed me. She wasn't supposed to be here. It wasn't any special occasion, no family event that required her presence.
"You're home late," she said, her voice calm but laced with something I couldn't quite place. Concern? Judgment? I didn't care.
"So?" I replied, not bothering to hide my irritation. "Why are you even here?"
She stood up, her gaze never leaving mine. "Mom and Dad are worried about you," she said simply. "So I'm here."
I scoffed and headed for the stairs. "It's them who are worried. So what does it have to do with you?"
I heard her footsteps behind me, following. "Kwan, wait," she said, her tone soft but insistent. She caught up with me halfway up the stairs, reaching out to touch my arm. "Did you smoke?"
Her question stopped me in my tracks. I turned my head slightly, looking at her out of the corner of my eye. I pulled her nearer to me and asked "Why don't you check it yourself?" I shrugged, pulling my arm away from her grasp. "It's none of your business."
She frowned, her eyes searching mine. "Kwan… why are you doing this?"
"Why do you care?" I snapped, taking another step up. "I'm an adult now, P'Fah.
I don't need you to watch over me."
Her expression shifted, a mix of hurt and frustration flashing across her face. "Because I do care," she said, her voice quieter now. "I am your sister. I should take care of you."
I let out a bitter laugh. "You care? Funny, you didn't seem to care when you left that night. You care so much that you went back to him. Why don't you just go and take care of your boyfriend?" The words spilled out before I could stop them, each one cutting into the silence between us like a blade.
"Kwan," Dad said, his voice calm but firm. I turned to see him standing at the doorway of his room, arms crossed and a stern look on his face. "Why are you home so late?"
I bit my lip, bracing myself for what was coming. "I was out doing my school works with friends" I said nonchalantly, trying to brush it off.
Dad's eyes narrowed slightly. "You've been coming home late every night this week. This isn't like you," he said, his tone laced with concern. "And what's this about the way you're talking to P'Fah? She's your sister."
His words struck a nerve, but I didn't let it show. "I wasn't talking to her any differently," I muttered, avoiding his gaze.
Dad shook his head. "Kwan, I heard the way you spoke to her just now. That's not how we treat family."
Family. That word felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on my chest. If only he knew. But he didn't, and he couldn't.
"She's worried about you," Dad continued. "We all are. You've been distant, and now this attitude... What's going on with you?"
I clenched my fists, feeling the heat rise to my face. "Nothing's going on," I said through gritted teeth. "I'm just tired, that's all. You don't have to come all the way around just to ask about my wellbeing."
Dad sighed, his expression softening. "Look, I don't know what's bothering you, but shutting everyone out isn't the answer. And pushing P'Fah away won't make things better."
His words stung, but I couldn't bring myself to respond. Instead, I looked down at my feet, my mind racing.
"She's always been there for you, Kwan," Dad said after a moment of silence. "Don't forget that."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and went back into his room, leaving me alone on the staircase. His words echoed in my mind, each one adding to the storm of emotions swirling inside me.
I sank down onto the steps, burying my face in my hands. Dad didn't understand—he couldn't. To him, P'Fah was just my sister, nothing more. But to me, she was everything. And that was the problem.
The sound of soft footsteps made me look up. P'Fah stood at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes filled with concern. She must have heard Dad's words too.
"Kwan…" she began, her voice gentle.
"Don't," I said, my voice breaking. "Just... don't."
She hesitated, then slowly nodded, as if understanding that I needed space. Without another word, she turned and disappeared down the hallway, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the unbearable ache in my heart.
The next morning, as I trudged down the stairs, still groggy from a restless night, I was greeted by a sight that made my heart skip a beat—P'Fah sitting on the couch in the living room, her hands clasped together, waiting. She looked up as I descended, her expression calm but determined.
"I'll take you to school today," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I frowned, my grip tightening on the strap of my backpack. "No, thanks. I can go on my own," I replied coldly, heading toward the door.
Before I could take another step, Mom appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Kwan, let your sister drive you today," she said, her voice carrying that maternal authority I could never argue against.
I sighed, trying to keep my frustration in check. "Mom, I don't need a ride from her."
"It's not up for debate," Mom said firmly, giving me a pointed look before retreating back to the kitchen.
P'Fah stood up, smoothing out her shirt. "Let's go," she said, her voice softer now, almost coaxing.
"I said no," I snapped, turning away from her. But before I could move further, P'Fah stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "Kwan, I'm not asking. I'm telling you. Let's go."
Her insistence lit a fire in my chest. I clenched my fists, trying to suppress the storm brewing inside me. "I don't need you to drive me. Stop acting like you care," I said harshly.
Her eyes flickered with pain, but she didn't back down. "I do care," she said quietly. "And whether you like it or not, I'm taking you to school."
Frustrated beyond words, I shoved her aside. P'Fah stumbled, her shoulder hitting the edge of the shoe rack with a dull thud. My heart seized for a moment as I watched her wince, but I forced myself to stay indifferent. Don't care. Don't let her get to you.
"I'll walk," I muttered, heading for the door again.
But before I could escape, P'Fah grabbed my wrist, her grip firm but not harsh. "Kwan," she said, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Get in the car."
I yanked my hand away, glaring at her. "Why are you doing this? Just leave me alone."
She didn't flinch, didn't even blink. Instead, she stepped closer, her eyes locking onto mine. "Because you're my sister. And no matter how much you push me away, I'm not going to stop looking out for you."
Her words hit like a punch to the gut. For a moment, I was speechless, caught between the urge to yell and the desire to break down. But I couldn't let her see me like this—not now, not ever.
Reluctantly, I followed her to the car, my steps heavy with resentment. She opened the passenger door, waiting patiently as if daring me to defy her again. I climbed in, slamming the door shut behind me.
The drive was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. P'Fah kept her eyes on the road, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. I stared out the window, refusing to acknowledge her presence.
But despite the cold war between us, a small part of me couldn't ignore the warmth of her presence or the lingering memory of her touch. And that only made the ache in my chest grow deeper.
Once P'Fah dropped me off at school, I slammed the car door shut without so much as a glance in her direction. "Thanks," I mumbled curtly, already walking away. I could feel her eyes on me, lingering, waiting.
"Have a good day, Kwan," she said softly before driving off.
As soon as her car disappeared around the corner, I let out a shaky breath. My heart raced—not from the looming school day, but from the bitterness still clawing at my chest. I didn't intend to step foot inside the school building today. The routine, the teachers, the same faces—it all felt suffocating, especially with my mind still tangled in knots over P'Fah.
I pulled out my phone and dialed quickly.
"Yo, Kwan," came Jay's voice on the other end, lazy and slightly amused. "What's up? You ditching again?"
"Yeah," I replied, my voice low. "Pick me up at the usual spot."
"Sure thing," he said, a hint of mischief in her tone. "We're heading to the docks today. The other gang's been stirring up trouble."
I hung up and leaned against the school's outer wall, waiting for Jay and the others. A part of me knew this wasn't the right path, that skipping school to meet up with them for another pointless fight wasn't going to solve anything. But right now, I needed the distraction. I needed to forget.
Within fifteen minutes, Jay's car rolled up, music blasting from the speakers. The windows were down, and I could see her grinning behind the wheel. A couple of our friends were in the backseat, all wearing the same reckless smiles.
"Hop in, rebel," Pim called out, tossing her cigarette out the window.
I climbed in, and we sped off toward the docks. The drive was filled with laughter and loud music, but I stayed quiet, my mind already bracing for what was to come. This was our turf—our unspoken sanctuary. But today, it was a battleground.
When we arrived, the other gang was already there, leaning against their bikes with smug expressions. The air was thick with tension, and the atmosphere buzzed with unspoken challenges.
"You ready for this?" Jay asked, his grin turning sharp.
I nodded, my fists clenching. "Let's get it over with."
The confrontation started with heated words, escalating quickly into shoves and punches. It was chaos, fists flying and adrenaline pumping. But amidst the noise and violence, my mind wandered back to P'Fah—to her voice, her touch, the way she'd looked at me this morning as if she could still see the girl I used to be.
And in that fleeting moment of distraction, someone's fist connected with my jaw, sending me stumbling backward. The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the ache that had been residing in my chest for weeks.
Jay was by my side in an instant, helping me to my feet. "You good?" she asked, concern flickering in her eyes.
I nodded, wiping the blood from my lip. "Yeah. Let's finish this."
The clash was reaching its boiling point. My heart was pounding as I fought to stay on my feet, sweat mixing with the blood trickling from my lip. The sharp crack of a bat hitting the ground echoed, and my eyes darted to one of the guys from the other gang lifting it again, aiming straight for me. I braced myself, knowing I wouldn't dodge in time.
But the impact never came.
Instead, a blur stepped in front of me, arms raised to shield me. The bat connected with a sickening thud, and the figure crumpled to the ground.
"P'Fah!" I screamed, my voice breaking as I dropped to my knees beside her.
Her head was bleeding—so much blood. Too much. My hands trembled as I pressed them against the wound, trying to stop the flow. Panic seized me as my mind screamed for this to not be real.
The gang who'd attacked us froze, their faces pale with fear. "Screw this!" one of them shouted, and just like that, they scattered, leaving their bikes and weapons behind.
Jay and the rest of our group looked just as terrified. Without a word, they bolted, leaving only Pim, who knelt beside me, her face pale. "Kwan, what do we do?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. All I could do was hold P'Fah, who was far too still in my arms.
Tears streamed down my face as I hugged her tightly. "Why?" I sobbed. "Why are you so dumb? Why did you do this? You're hurt because of me. Why, P'Fah?"
Her eyelids fluttered, and she gave me the faintest smile, her voice weak but steady. "Are you… okay?" she asked, as if she wasn't the one bleeding out in my arms.
I cried harder, pressing my forehead against hers. "You're the one who's hurt! Why are you asking about me? You should've stayed away. You shouldn't have come. You—"
Her hand weakly reached up, brushing against my cheek. "Because… it's you," she whispered. "I couldn't stand there… and do nothing."
Pim was already on the phone, her voice urgent as she called for an ambulance. "They're on their way," she said, her eyes filled with worry. "Kwan, keep her awake. Don't let her close her eyes."
I nodded, even as my tears blurred my vision. "P'Fah, stay with me, okay? Don't close your eyes. Keep talking to me."
Her breathing was shallow, but her lips quirked into a soft smile. "You're so stubborn… just like always."
"And you're reckless," I shot back, my voice trembling. "Look at you. You're always trying to play the hero."
Her fingers brushed against my hand, and I clung to her touch as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. "If it's for you… I'd do it again," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
The sound of distant sirens filled the air, a small beacon of hope amidst the chaos. But all I could focus on was P'Fah—her face, her fragile smile, and the weight of her words. She was willing to put herself in harm's way for me, even when I'd been pushing her away.
"Don't say that," I whispered. "Don't ever say that. I can't lose you, P'Fah. Not like this."
The ambulance arrived, and the paramedics rushed over, gently pulling her from my arms. I felt a hollow ache as they loaded her onto the stretcher, her hand slipping from mine.
"Stay with her," Pim said, her voice firm. "You're going with her, Kwan."
I nodded, climbing into the ambulance and gripping P'Fah's hand once more.
As the doors closed and the sirens wailed, I whispered one final plea.
"Please… don't leave me."