It didn’t take long for Adrian to give his answer.
The morning after Rainan handed him the folder containing all his designs and plans, Adrian called him into the office again. This time, his expression was less composed, more weighed down by resignation.
“I still don’t get it,” Adrian said, placing the folder back on the desk. “But if your decision is final… then I won’t stand in your way.”
Rainan nodded quietly. “Thank you.”
“You’re handing everything to me. All your projects, even your legacy. Why are you doing this?”
There was a long pause. Rainan stood by the glass window, staring out at the city skyline that had been his view for nearly a decade. “Because I trust you to take care of it. And because I need to start letting go.”
Adrian opened his mouth to press further, to ask again if this was about another job, a secret offer, a falling out, or something deeper—but something in Rainan’s eyes made him stop.
Instead, he stood and reached out his hand. “Thank you for everything, partner.”
Rainan shook it firmly. “Thank you for believing in me.”
Later that afternoon, they gathered the entire team for a short meeting. Everyone assumed it was about a new project or a client win. No one expected the bomb that Rainan would drop.
“I have something important to share,” he began, voice calm but full of emotion. “I’ll be stepping down from my role… and leaving the company.”
The room fell silent.
It was as if time stopped for a few seconds. Eyes widened. Mouths dropped. No one seemed to know how to react.
“Wait, what? Sir Rainan, you’re leaving?”
“Why?”
“What happened?”
“I thought you and Sir Adrian were planning that Manila Bay project?”
Rainan raised a hand gently to calm the rising buzz. “There’s no drama,” he assured them. “This was a personal decision. Something I’ve thought about for a long time.”
“But why now?” someone asked.
“I just need to go home,” he replied. “I need rest. Reflection. Time for myself.”
His answers were vague, but his tone carried enough sincerity to keep them from pressing further. He didn’t want tears or questions. Just a clean, simple goodbye.
“I’ll be here for three more days,” Rainan added. “Until then, I’ll be handing over all responsibilities and wrapping up what needs to be finalized. But before I go… thank you. I’ve learned so much from each of you. This company wouldn’t be what it is without your passion and talent.”
Adrian clapped first, slowly. Then others followed, some still dazed, others already emotional.
The moment felt heavier than expected.
---
The next few days were filled with a strange mix of calm and sorrow.
Rainan returned to his office and began packing. Each item he placed into a box was more than just an object—it was a memory.
A photo with Adrian during their first office launch. His very first sketchbook, now worn and filled with ideas that once only lived in his head. Framed certificates of excellence. Awards. Client thank-you letters. Each of them whispered stories of the years he spent pouring his soul into his work.
He picked up a crystal award labeled Architect of the Year, 2022, and held it for a moment. His vision blurred as the memories flooded in.
The spotlight. The cheers. His trembling hands holding the mic. The promise he made that night—to build more, dream more, live more.
And now he was walking away from it all.
His chest tightened. He sat down on the floor, surrounded by boxes, and let the tears fall quietly. No one was watching. It was just him, his thoughts, and the slow acceptance that he would never be part of nights like that again.
A gentle knock pulled him out of his moment.
“Sir?” It was Clara, one of the senior designers, standing by the door. “Do you need help?”
He wiped his tears quickly and smiled. “Sure. Come in.”
One by one, others came too. His colleagues, juniors, and even the interns. They offered help, carried boxes, made small jokes to lighten the mood.
“Sir, you’re too quiet,” someone teased. “You’re usually the one shouting instructions.”
“Not shouting,” he chuckled. “Guiding.”
“Same thing,” another joked.
Their laughter filled the room. For a moment, it felt like any normal workday. But every now and then, someone would pause, look at Rainan with red eyes, and say, “We’ll miss you.”
---
Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
On his final morning in the city, Rainan stood outside his condo building, keys in hand. He had sold the unit a week before, quickly and quietly. The buyer, a young couple excited about starting fresh in the city, arrived right on time.
“Thank you, Mr. Alon,” the woman said. “We promise to take good care of this place.”
Rainan handed them the keys with a small smile. “It served me well. I hope it does the same for you.”
He walked to his car, a black SUV already loaded with his most important belongings—clothes, his sketchpads, a box of photographs, and the folder with his medical records, neatly tucked away in the glove compartment.
As he drove out of the city, the skyline slowly shrank in his rearview mirror.
The roads widened. The traffic thinned. Billboards were replaced by trees, buildings by mountains, and honking horns by birdsong.
He passed familiar signs—towns he used to visit, diners he once stopped at on long drives, gas stations that hadn’t changed in years. He rolled down his window and let the wind hit his face. It smelled like the province—dusty, earthy, clean.
As he entered the outskirts of San Felino, nostalgia hit him like a wave.
There was the old basketball court where he used to play. The high school gate, now painted blue, looked exactly the same. The local sari-sari store still had the same rusted signage.
Some areas had changed—there were now more tricycles, a new café in town, and unfamiliar buildings—but many remained untouched by time.
And then he saw it.
The Alon residence.
A modest two-story home, cream walls slightly worn but well-kept, and pink bougainvillea spilling from the fence. His heart raced as he parked in front, palms sweaty.
He took a deep breath.
The front door opened. His mother stepped out, holding a hand towel and looking confused.
“Rainan?”
His father appeared behind her, brows furrowed. “Son?”
Rainan stepped out of the car, eyes misty.
“I’m home,” he said softly.