I think the best part about healing is this: you stop searching for noise.
You stop needing the applause, the headlines, the endless distractions just to feel like you're still worth something.
Because sometimes, all you really want is to watch the wind move through the trees with someone who knows everything about you and still stays.
That's what Tagaytay felt like with Lance.
It wasn't a grand plan.
We just woke up on a Thursday morning, both of us craving quiet, and by noon we were in his car, halfway up the ridge, windows down, no music playing.
Just us.
I leaned my head against the passenger window, eyes half-closed as we passed the familiar stretch of pine trees. The
cool air touched my skin gently, brushing past the loose tendrils of my hair.
Lance reached over and intertwined his fingers with mine. "You okay?"
I turned to him and nodded. "More than okay."
"You're quiet."
"I like it. I like being with you like this."
His thumb moved slowly across my hand, just once. "Same."
We booked a private villa, Lance said it was last minute, but of course, he had his ways.
The place was tucked behind tall hedges, quiet and secluded, overlooking a gentle slope of greens.
There was a small veranda with two rocking chairs and a hammock.
He dropped our overnight bags inside and walked straight back to the balcony.
I followed, slipping into the chair beside him.
For a few moments, we said nothing.
I watched as he stretched out his legs, eyes scanning the horizon like he was memorizing the way the mountains held the sky.
Then, finally, I said it.
"I visited Luis again last week."
Lance looked at me, listening.
"I didn't cry this time," I said, surprised even as k admitted it. "I just… thanked him. For saving me."
Lance leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. "He'd want you to live."
"I know."
We stayed like that for a long while, talking about everything and nothing.
At some point, Lance brought out coffee from the kitchen, and we shared a slice of warm buko pie from a roadside store we stopped at earlier.
"You know what i realized?" I said, licking a bit of filling off my thumb. "I don't miss the spotlight."
He looked amused. "That's a big statement coming from you."
"I mean it. I think i just wanted to feel seen. But now…" I looked at him. "I'm seen. By you."
He didn't say anything.
Just reached over and kissed my knuckles, so gently it almost broke me.
"Do you think we're going to make it?" I whispered. "Like, long-term?"
"I don't think," Lance said. "I know."
I looked away, blinking fast. "You're too good."
He laughed. "I'm just crazy in love with you."
"And insanely hot," I added, just to lighten the mood.
He grinned. "That too."
That night, we lay in bed wrapped in the thick comforter, windows open, listening to crickets and the occasional rustle of wind.
"Can i tell you something?" I whispered in the dark.
"Always."
"I used to believe love had to be painful. That the more you cried, the deeper it was."
He squeezed me tighter. "And now?"
"Now i know… love isn't supposed to bruise you."
Lance didn't reply.
But i felt his lips against my temple, soft and full of promises he never needed to speak out loud.
-
I woke up before Lance the next morning.
For a few seconds, I just stayed still, watching him breathe — steady, calm, safe. His hair was messier than usual, falling over his forehead in lazy waves.
I reached out and brushed it away carefully, not wanting to wake him just yet.
But he stirred anyway.
"Hmm," he mumbled, eyes still closed. "You staring at me again?"
I smiled. "Maybe."
He opened one eye and gave me that boyish grin he only ever used in the mornings unfiltered, genuine, his version of soft. "Creep."
"Your creep," I whispered, leaning in to kiss his nose.
He caught my lips before i could pull away, deepening the kiss with a sleepy kind of need.
It wasn't urgent or hurried, it was slow, warm, like something that didn't need to prove itself anymore.
When we finally pulled away, we were both smiling.
"Let's do nothing today," I said.
Lance stretched and sighed. "Perfect."
We made coffee barefoot in the kitchen.
He was still shirtless, just in sweats, and i wore his oversized hoodie that reached my thighs.
I sat on the counter while he fixed the mugs, occasionally sneaking glances at me like i was some kind of miracle.
"I don't think i've ever seen you this quiet two days in a row," he teased.
I tilted my head. "You don't like it?"
"I love it. I just… know how rare it is."
"I'm learning."
He handed me my cup. "Learning what?"
"That peace doesn't mean silence. It means choosing where you place your noise."
Lance just looked at me, and then without saying anything, leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
We spent the rest of the morning just existing.
We walked through a nearby park, hand in hand, stopping to feed koi fish in a pond. At one point, I caught Lance watching an elderly couple sitting side by side under a tree, sharing a thermos of tea.
He turned to me and said, "That's going to be us."
My heart skipped. "Yeah?"
"Gray-haired. Still bickering over where to eat."
"Still holding hands?"
He tightened his grip on mine. "Never letting go."
Later, we found a quiet art café tucked in an alley.
I sketched him while he drank iced Americano.
He said i made his nose too perfect. I said i was just drawing what i saw.
By early evening, we were back at the villa.
Lance lit some candles outside and played soft jazz from his phone.
We wrapped ourselves in a blanket and sat on the hammock, swaying slightly.
The sunset looked like melted peaches in the sky.
"I'm scared," I admitted quietly.
He turned to me. "Of what?"
"That something will ruin this."
He didn't speak right away.
Then he reached out, gently cupping my face. "Then we protect it. Day by day. Like this."
I nodded, even as my throat tightened.
It's funny.
I used to think love was a storm — loud, uncontrollable, dramatic.
But with Lance?
Love was a quiet Sunday afternoon. A warm mug. A hammock that creaked slightly as the world slowed down.
He kissed me then, not because he had to, but because it felt right.
And when the stars began to appear, one by one, I realized: I had found my always in someone who never made me feel like i had to earn it.