[
JOW
]
I visited the cemetery today.
The air was quiet, still—thick with the scent of earth and melted wax. Rows upon rows of graves stretched before me like forgotten names in a story no one finished. Overgrown grass hugged the crumbling tombstones, and here and there, half-melted candles flickered weakly beside offerings of stale food.
It took me ten minutes of wandering through the maze of the dead to find his grave.
Cruzecrin Allein Ezz.
I sank down in front of his tombstone, brushing the dirt off the engraving with my hand. My fingers trembled lightly against the cold marble.
“I’m back,” I murmured. “Happy… no, sad death anniversary.”
I’ve never understood why people say *happy* death anniversary. What’s so happy about it? There’s nothing cheerful in remembering the day someone was taken away.
I pulled out a bottle of Ginebra San Miguel from the plastic bag I brought. I dug into my pocket, flipped open my pocket knife, and popped the cap off. Then, from my other pocket, I retrieved a lighter and lit the mouth of the bottle—just to dull the bite of the alcohol.
A big pack of Muncher chips came out next. I tore it open, not even waiting. I drank. I chewed. I sat there with the dead.
“I met your sister, you idiot,” I began, voice laced with a rough laugh. “To think you had a sister like her... makes me wonder if Jovenyl’s even your cousin or just another trick you pulled on me.”
Thankfully, there was no one else around. Anyone passing by would’ve probably thought I’d lost it—sitting here talking to a grave like it would talk back.
“Cruzecrin, you said I’d know she was your sister the moment our eyes met. But I didn’t. Not at first. Not until I remembered your last name—*Ezz.* It only clicked after Clay showed me a photo and told me her brother had taken it. I asked my cousin Rain if Clayrin had a brother, and he said your name.”
I took another swig, the liquor burning down my throat.
“She’s kind of famous, you know? At the university. A lot of guys are into her. You’d have beaten up half the campus by now if you were still alive.” I chuckled bitterly. “Also—liar. You told me I’d fall for her at first sight. I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.”
I poured a small amount of the alcohol over the stone.
“You won’t believe this… but your sister has an ability too. We’re cursed, Cruze. I told you before—I can see red strings of fate. You never believed me, not even once. But she did. Your sister believed me.”
A heavy pause.
“She said she wouldn’t doubt anything I tell her—not even the truths too strange to understand. She won’t call out my lies either... she’ll just poke at them with her sarcasm and force the truth out of me in her own weird way. She plays with words like a child plays with fire. Do you think she hit her head when she was a kid? That might explain it.”
I downed the rest of the Ginebra and left the empty bottle atop his grave.
“Thanks for drinking with me, Cruze. You’re still my only real friend.”
I didn’t light a candle for him. In my mind, he’s not really dead. He’s just… drinking with me again, like he always did.
---
I left the cemetery and took a minibus back home—not to Grandpa’s place. Our house probably looked like a tornado passed through. I needed to clean. I also wanted to check if the neighbors had taken good care of the cats I’d left with them.
After waiting for a while, I flagged down a minibus and sat in one of the empty back seats. As soon as I settled, my phone buzzed.
A Facebook message from Clay.
“Jow... can you say something that can make me laugh?”
That was all.
>Huh. For once, she’s not bombarding me with messages.<
I reacted to it with a like and replied:
“Why? Are you the law?”
She read it immediately and reacted with an angry emoji. Then she sent me a middle finger emoji—black, not yellow. Next came a skull, followed by four knives lined up in a row.
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
I imagined her face right then—eyebrows furrowed, lips tight, practically seething. I bet she was glaring at her screen like it owed her money.
People nearby looked at me with puzzled stares.
I quickly bowed my head and cleared my throat, trying to smother the grin on my face.
>Crap! I forgot I’m in public again. Just like Clay always says—I get lost in my own little world.<
Clay again. Always her. Ugh. Enough already.
I clutched my chest suddenly.
My heart was pounding.
>It’s just the alcohol. You’re tipsy, that’s all. Brain, stop making decisions for me. I’m not ready to feel anything deeper. Don’t make it harder to forget.<
Two minutes later, another message came through.
“When your chest feels heavy, does that mean you’re sad and need to cry?”
I replied instantly.
“Nope. It just means you’ve got big boobs. Be proud, not sad.”
And just like that, she spammed me with emojis again.
Once she stopped, I logged out of Facebook and opened the voice recorder on my phone. I sighed before hitting record.
> “It’s okay to laugh. You’re usually playful… and annoying, honestly. Seriously, sometimes you’re infuriating. But if you’re sad, why do you want to laugh? Are you scared to cry? Be playful, sure. Stay happy if you can. But if there’s something weighing you down—something that laughing can’t fix—don’t hide from it. Don’t play with your feelings, Clay.”<
I hit stop and sent the recording to her.
Once it showed as delivered, I turned off my phone and stared into the ceiling of my empty home.
>It’s your brother’s death anniversary today. Be strong, Clay.<
>Someday, I’ll tell you who I was to him. What kind of memories we shared as gangsters… as garbage of society... as brothers who protected the little sisters we valued above everything else. And someday… I’ll apologize. For not saving him. For being the reason he died. For letting him fall on that last battlefield—where he used every ounce of strength he had left just to save a woman from getting hurt.<
---
It’s the fourth day of semestral break.
Still no sign of peace. Still no joy.
When classes resume for the third quarter, we’ll return to the university. Back to Jovenyl. Back to where she is.
---
Today was exhausting.
I finished cleaning the house. Decided I’d sleep here tonight instead of going back to Grandpa’s. I called him, told him I’d stay over.
I also borrowed back my cats from the neighbors. They’re curled up next to me now, sound asleep while I mindlessly play Clash of Clans.
No messages from Clay after I sent her the voice recording.
Maybe she understood what I meant.
Maybe she’s finally allowing herself to feel what she needs to.
Last time, we were all on the rooftop—me, Nova, Lean May, and Clay—talking about our curses. But now, it’s like that conversation never happened. The semestral break has put everything on pause.
But I still want this cursed ability gone.
I want to see that old man again.
But before I get rid of this sight… I need to understand why I once had two red strings of fate—and why there’s only one now.
Why did it move when I met Lean May?
What’s her connection to me?
Why did I cry blood and go blind when I saw the red string tied to her?
---
To be continued.