Luneta's Promise

The sky was still a deep blue, just shy of dawn, yet half of the floodlights at the base of Central Lagoon had already gone dark, as if the park itself wished to prepare a stage for something brighter than electric lamps. Around the pond, wooden benches glistened with dew; some creaked softly when nudged by the breeze, others sat in silence, waiting for a story. Acacia trees draped aerial roots, forming a green tunnel that felt like the mouth of time, anyone who stepped inside seemed to enter a secret passageway to the truest moments they owned.

That morning, there were no joggers yet, no wandering photographers, no laughter of schoolchildren on a midday field trip. Only three elements existed: the fountain’s spray, a sliver of moonlight, and the drone of insects that had risen earlier than the city. But within that quiet garden lay an invisible magnet, a subtle pull summoning two souls from different corners of the city.

In the north of Manila, a young woman named Jessica Agoncillo gently latched her front gate, careful not to wake her mother. Her oversized denim jacket hung awkwardly, thrown on in a rush; her hair was pinned up haphazardly, and her almond eyes still carried the dark circles of late nights at the office. Every so often, she tapped her own chest as if checking that the courage she’d pinned there minutes before was still holding courage to trust the morning again, even though her past still left scars eight years deep.

At almost the same moment, in an upscale Bay City apartment, Hector Prasetyo stood staring at Manila’s city lights from the thirty-eighth floor. He pulled his bomber jacket closer, slung a backpack filled with mamón cakes over his shoulder, and drew a deep breath before ordering a ride-hailing taxi. In his inner pocket, an unopened medical envelope waited, its words too heavy to face just yet. For Hector, the hush of dawn was more terrifying than a biopsy result; in that silence, love could echo too loudly, and fear could resound until it filled the whole room. But it was precisely in this darkest hour that he felt most alive, because there was a name that lit up every second for him: Jessica.

Their taxis—two different cars, two different routes, headed for the same destination: Rizal Park. They didn’t yet know that a wooden bench by the Central Lagoon would witness the words born from their most tangled fears and hopes: words about waiting, about letting go, about a promise far heavier than either of them imagined. They also didn’t know that the spray of water catching the first rays of sunlight would record a pinky swear that seemed so small yet could bear the weight of longing as vast as the sky.

What would come after?
A bouquet delayed by eight years, a sealed lab result, fragments of dreams about a girl in a denim jacket, laughter hidden behind office calls, tears held back through work hours everything would converge on one point: dawn at Luneta Park.

And in that hush before sunrise, the universe would seem to whisper to these two hesitant souls:
“Your steps may be slow, but this park never asks for haste.
The fountain can wait for the sun, the sparrows can wait for warm branches,
and love if it’s true always knows how to wait without losing its glow.”

This is a story of an Indonesian man who believes love must be fought for, a Philippines woman learning to stitch her heart back together, and a city that has captured promises among dewdrops and the hum of traffic not yet awake.

Before Manila’s bustle reclaims its time, before the office calls, before the diagnosis speaks, they will sit together on a bench wet with dawn’s dewand the world will hush for a few precious seconds, just long enough for one promise to hang in the air.

When the sun finally rises, no one will know whether that promise will become a bridge or a snare. But Luneta Park having embraced millions of stories since the age of revolution will do what it does best: guard the secrets of human hearts among the acacia branches and fountain’s murmur, until one day that secret grows into the bravest decision two ordinary people will ever make.

It all begins here.
A bench. A promise.
And the small, fierce courage to try again.

Chapter 1 : Morning At Rizal Park

03.05 A.M., EMERALD CREST RESIDENCES

The third alarm finally stopped when Hector Prasetyo a cyber analyst from Surabaya—picked up his phone. The penthouse on the 38th floor was still dim; his laptop screen displayed server logs screaming in red. In the wardrobe mirror, he saw the reflection of an Indonesian man with tan skin, cropped hair, an “ordinary” face, but whose neat attire saved his appearance. He packed a black t-shirt, a dark blue bomber jacket, and a small box of mamón—Jessica’s favorite sponge cake into his backpack. Next to the laptop lay an envelope containing the biopsy results, which he still couldn’t bring himself to open. As he descended in the elevator, he whispered, “It’s all right not to be handsome, as long as I can be a good friend.”

03.22 A.M., EDSA TO QUEZON CITY

The Grab sedan he was riding in smelled strongly of coffee. Mang Luis, the friendly driver, was playing old OPM songs. “Romantic ride, sir?” he asked. Hector nodded nervously. He explained that he was going to pick up a “friend” to go sunrise hunting in Luneta. Mang Luis chuckled, “Girls here are mahinhin pero matapang—shy yet strong. Good luck, sir!” That sentence lingered in Hector’s mind all the way there.

03.43 A.M., AGONCILLO HOUSE YARD

The pale yellow porch light shone on Jessica Agoncillo, who hugged a gray sweater to herself. Her hair was tied up in a bun, sleep still clinging to her eyes, but her gentle smile made Hector forget all about his physical insecurities.

“Morning,” she greeted, opening the door.

“Morning, Mr. Foreign-from-Indonesia,” Jessica replied teasingly. The mamón changed hands; Jessica giggled, “I’ll get fat because of you.” The car then set off toward Roxas Boulevard.

04.02 A.M., FAST FOOD RESTAURANT “HAPPY BEE”

An empty room, harsh white neon lights. Hot chocolate and pancakes for Jessica; black coffee and hash browns for Hector.

“I just realized,” Jessica said, “you always sneak snacks into our office overtime.”

Hector laughed, “My mom at home always says, ‘Hungry people get angry easily.’”

When Jessica asked why he was willing to wake up so early, Hector answered calmly, “I like the city when it’s still half-asleep and I like having an excuse to take you out when there’s no crowd.”

Jessica turned her gaze outside the dawn was beginning to light up the sky making it even clearer how her old wounds still held her back.

04.25 A.M., TRAVEL TO LUNETA

The second Grab was driven by Ate Lorie; the classic kundiman song “Ikaw Lamang” filled the cabin. “It’s a song about waiting eight years,” the driver explained. Jessica caught her breath as if the lyrics were knocking on the door of her past. Hector held himself back from asking about the ex who had been by her side for eight years. For him, caring also meant holding back questions that might hurt.

04.42 A.M., RIZAL PARK NORTH GATE

The garden lights glowed bluish-green, the scent of wet grass mingling with sea salt. Hector handed over a spare sweater; Jessica put it on, two sizes too big for her.

“If someday I need time alone, would you still want to be friends?” Jessica asked softly.

“As long as I’m alive, you’ll never be alone,” Hector replied a line that sounded dramatic, but one he truly believed with all his heart.

04.55 A.M., STONE BENCH ON THE EDGE OF THE CENTRAL LAGOON

The eastern sky faded to orange. The fountain was still dim, but the sound of water became their background music.

“I’m not a handsome man, nor am I wealthy,” Hector opened his heart. “But to me, love is about coming home: it’s about who you remember when the day has worn you out.”

A thin sheen of tears welled up in Jessica’s eyes. “I’m afraid of letting you down,” she whispered.

“Healing takes time,” Hector replied. “I’m not a doctor who can close a wound with a single stitch; I’m the doorkeeper who waits until you’re ready.”

Dawn broke in full, the fountain lit up, and the national anthem played in the background. In the silence, a quiet commitment was forged: Hector would wait, and Jessica would learn to trust again whatever the ending, this morning in Rizal Park would now stand as the first witness to their struggle for love.

Chapter 2 : Walk and Talk

05.03 A.M., ACACIA TRACK

The sky was just turning red, but all the garden lights had already gone out. Hector and Jessica walked slowly along the boulevard, shaded by giant acacia trees; their hanging roots swayed like delicate curtains. The lingering dew made the grass on either side shimmer.

“Manila looks older at this hour,” Hector murmured, his English tinged with a Javanese accent.

“Older but gentler,” Jessica replied, slipping her hands into the pockets of the borrowed sweater—still too big, the sleeves hanging comically. “Usually Luneta gives me a headache because it’s so crowded.”

Hector chuckled softly. “If it were crowded, I wouldn’t be brave enough to bother you with my weird conversations.”

“Weird conversations are your brand.” Jessica poked his arm. “So, what weird story will you sell me now, Mr. Foreign-from-Indonesia?”

05.09 A.M., ABOUT AIM & COFFEE

They stopped at a portable coffee stall near the park in Asia. The vendor, an elderly man, had already prepared a large thermos. Hector paid for two cups of strong black barako, then they continued walking, sipping slowly. Steam curled in the chilly air.

Jessica brought up work. “For the next sprint, we have to install a new module. Honestly, I’m afraid of delays.”

Hector shrugged. “Technology always finds a way to scare us. But if your team handles the documentation and I back you up on security, we can deliver.”

“I like your confidence,” Jessica said. “But during daily stand-ups, you always seem so quiet.”

Hector held back a smile. “Being quiet is just a mask. If I talk too much, my Javanese accent slips out.”

Jessica laughed. “I’d love to hear your Javanese someday.”

05.18 A.M., PLANS STORED

They arrived at a corner of the park adorned with historical dioramas. The relief walls depicted the 1896 revolution. Hector traced the carved bayonets and flags, then asked, “Do you still want to pursue your Master’s abroad?”

Jessica let out a sigh. “I do. But Mama’s often sick, and my little brother just started college. Sometimes it feels selfish if I leave.”

“You’re not selfish,” Hector replied. “Your dreams are valid. Your family will be proud of you.”

Jessica looked at him in awe. “What about your dreams? Always chasing server deadlines?”

Hector fell silent for a couple of seconds. He almost spoke about the biopsy envelope, about the fear of running out of time, but in the end, he chose the safer version. “My big dream… is to write a book once my contract’s over. A science fiction novel.”

“Science fiction?” Jessica’s eyes widened. “See? So quiet but secretly a writer.”

“Our secret,” Hector said, pressing his finger to his lips.

05.29 A.M, PAST WOUNDS

They moved toward a path lined with Chinese lanterns. The lanterns were unlit, leaving behind faded red frames. It was there that Jessica suddenly asked, “Hector, have you ever had your heart broken?”

“I’ve had a crush, never had a relationship,” Hector answered honestly. “If I got rejected, yeah, it hurt but it never really broke me.”

Jessica gave a faint, bitter smile. “I’ve been broken once. Eight years wasn’t enough to keep someone.”

Hector turned to her, his steps slowing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jessica hugged her arms around herself. “We started back in high school. Went to college together in Diliman. We thoughtI thought we’d get married once we were stable. Last year he went abroad, said long distance would be fine. Four months later I saw a photo: he got engaged to someone else. I only found out through Instagram.”

Hector held his breath. “I’m so sorry”

“It’s not your fault,” Jessica cut in, her voice trembling. “It’s just… hard for me to trust again. When you’re kind, it makes me happy. But my head always says: ‘good things don’t last.’”

Hector wanted to reach for her hand, but he remembered how fragile trust could be. So he simply said, “If your head keeps saying that, let your heart take its time. I’m not asking you to trust me today.”

05.38 A.M., RECURRING DREAM

Along the edge of the small Japanese-themed pond, water dripped from bamboo onto stone—tok-tok, a rhythmic sound. Hector came to a halt. “I need to be honest about something.”

Jessica tensed up. “What is it?”

Hector stared at the water’s surface, his face catching the glow of the brightening dawn. “Before I even moved to Manila, I had this recurring dream. In that dream, there was this wide garden, a fountain, and a woman in a denim jacket looking at me. I never saw her face clearly, but every time I woke up, I felt… at peace.”

Jessica fell silent.

“The first time we surveyed the project site here in Luneta, I was stunned—it was exactly the same. That’s when I realized who the woman in my dream was.” Hector turned to her slowly. “It was you.”

Jessica clutched her empty cup as if afraid it might slip from her hands. “Hector… dreams can be illusions.”

“They can,” Hector said gently. “But the feeling you wake up with never lies. I don’t chase you because of some strange dream. I chase you because every real day with you is more beautiful than any dream could ever be.”

05.48 A.M., SECOND CONFESSION

The eastern sky was now tinged with golden yellow. Sparrows chattered busily in the canopy above. They reached a path laid with green mosaic tiles—its direction led to the central lagoon, but they hesitated, their steps lingering.

Hector stopped in front of a dolphin relief and turned to her. “Jess, I like you. In the simplest sense: I want to see you laugh every day if I can. And in the biggest sense: if someday you’re ready, my life is yours.”

Jessica’s shoulders trembled slightly. She lifted her face, eyes glassy with tears. “You’re too good. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“If we never try, we hurt ourselves first,” Hector replied. He paused, calming the thud in his chest. “I don’t want to force you. But I don’t want to lie about what I feel either. So I’m saying it.”

Jessica bit her lower lip until it turned pale. “I… I need time.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, but Hector had already seen.

05.57 A.M., APPROACHING CENTRAL LAGOON

They kept walking; the main lagoon with its giant fountain came into view in the distance. Columns of water shot ten meters high, catching the glow of the early morning sun.

Jessica spoke, her voice softer than the sound of the water. “What do you see in me, Hector? I’m not even healed yet.”

Hector held his breath; his answer was both simple and endless. “I see courage behind your fear. I see your sincerity when you laugh at your coworkers’ jokes just to keep things light. I see a woman who, even when she’s fragile, still thinks of her mother’s health before her own ambitions. And… I see someone who makes me want to be the best version of myself.”

Jessica turned to him, her eyes puffy, but in them shone a new warmth. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me. But what if one day I realize I can’t love you the way you love me?”

Hector looked down for a moment, then met her gaze again, calm and steady. “If that day ever comes, let me stay by your side as a friend. Caring doesn’t just disappear when the label changes.”

06.05 AM, BEFORE THE PROMISE

Soft instrumental music began to drift faintly from the park speakers morning staff testing the sound system. A stone bench on the western side of the lagoon sat empty, bathed in orange light.

Jessica pointed to the bench. “Shall we sit for a while? My legs are tired.”

Hector nodded. Deep down he knew: on that bench, everything would shift he could feel the momentum flowing, like a river that could no longer be held back. But this chapter wasn’t finished yet: they each still carried their own puzzles, wounds left unspoken, fears yet to be untangled.

They stepped toward the bench, just a meter away now. Hector whispered, “Whatever you’re going to say later… thank you for walking with me this morning.”

Jessica glanced at him with a half-smile. “Thanks for not giving up easily.”

The air moved softly, as if holding its breath with them. Three steps from the bench, Chapter Two paused leaving behind a dawn that kept climbing, a fountain that kept dancing, and two hearts that came so close, so very close to touching their truest honesty.

Chapter 3 : Park Bench and Luneta's Promise

06.07 WIB, WOODEN BENCH ON THE EDGE OF THE LAGOON

Dew still glistened on the bench when Hector drew in a deep breath and brushed the surface clean, encouraging Jessica to sit. Sunlight pierced through the gaps between the acacia branches, casting a silvery glow across the giant lagoon’s surface. The fountain’s columns danced in rhythm, catching the morning light so that each droplet seemed like a shard of glass painted gold.

Jessica tucked her legs up, settling on the right side of the bench; Hector took the other end, leaving a pillow-sized space between them a buffer zone for two hearts equally afraid of slipping too soon. Jessica’s denim jacket was still wrapped in Hector’s sweater, while her head bowed low, eyes fixed on the tips of her shoes.

“This bench is a little wet,” she murmured softly, more to break the silence than to complain.

“If it soaks you to the bone, I’ve got flu medicine,” Hector teased, half-heartedly. But his own voice came out awkward, as if his vocal cords were caught in the rush of the fountain’s roar.

THE ROAR OF WATER & THE WEIGHT OF SILENCE

For several seconds, they were accompanied only by the sounds of nature: the rustle of the wind, the gentle ripples of the lagoon, and the laughter of sparrows swinging in the canopy above. Beyond that, the silence stretched long like a violin string pulled too tight.

Jessica finally spoke. “I don’t even remember the last time I sat still like this.” She turned slightly; the sunlight caught her eyes, still swollen from holding back tears.

“Ever since our project started, you barely rest,” Hector replied. “If humans could be reset like a modem, you’d need an off button for five minutes.”

Jessica gave a faint smile. “What about you? You haven’t slept all night, Hector.”

“My reset is moments like this,” Hector said, his eyes fixed on the fountain. “I’m exhausted, but my heart feels alive.” He paused, making sure his words didn’t sound too poetic. “Alive because you’re here.”

Those words made Jessica look down again. Her right hand traced the rough texture of the wooden bench, searching for strength in its grain.

UNOPENED ENVELOPE

Hector shifted his position, leaning back so that his shoulders touched the bench’s rest, his gaze now turned up to the pale blue sky. In the inner pocket of his jacket, he felt the thin, rectangular edge of something else, not a cake, not a power bank, but the print-out of his biopsy scan that he’d slipped in before leaving. For a moment, he recalled how the doctor had said, “We can’t be certain yet, but this tissue needs further examination.”

He swallowed hard. A wild urge stirred in him to open that envelope right there in front of Jessica and say, “This is my fear. Will you stay with me through it?” But he stopped himself, not because he feared looking weak, but because he’d promised never to burden Jessica while she was still stitching her own wounds back together.

Hector’s right hand curled into a fist on his lap. He chose to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Jess, earlier you said you’re afraid of letting people down. Why?”

Jessica lifted her shoulders weakly. “Because I’m not healed yet. Every time you’re kind to me, my mind keeps asking: ‘What if I break him the way I was broken?’”

TEARS ON THE CHEEK OF MARBLE PORTION

Her words pierced Hector, yet he gave her a gentle, calming smile. “Maybe I’m not that easy to break,” he said, “but even if I do break, I’ve decided the risk is worth it.”

Jessica bit her lip, and at last, the tears she’d been holding back broke free. Clear droplets traced down her fair cheeks like tiny streams on smooth marble. She hurried to wipe them away with the back of her hand, but the tears came faster than she could catch them.

On instinct, Hector leaned closer, just half a hand’s span away, and touched her cheek with his fingertip a touch as light as cotton, only to brush away the wet trail. “Hey, I’m here. It’s okay to cry.”

“I hate crying in front of people,” she sobbed. “But you… you always make me lower my guard.”

“Sometimes walls have to open so the light can get in,” Hector whispered. He was surprised himself by how true the words felt.

THE PINKY PROMISE IN LUNETA

Minutes passed, and Jessica’s sobs softened into quiet hiccups. Hector drew back a little, giving her space. Then, with a voice as calm as the surface of the pond once the wind had stilled, he said:

“Jessica, I didn’t come here to make you sad. If my presence only adds to your burden, then let me change the shape of this love.” He held out his palm, then curled his fingers into a loose fist, leaving just his pinky extended. “Let’s make a promise here in this park: whatever happens to us, if someday you do feel comfortable with me, then let’s keep that feeling for yourself and I’ll keep mine just only for me, from this day on, we only as friends, we can't have any feeling about love to each others. Whatever happens, no more tears, no pressure.”

His pinky hovered in the air, trembling at the tip. Hector’s eyes met Jessica’s there was sorrow, yes, but also a quiet resolve that couldn’t be argued with.

Jessica held her breath. Memories of her ex, who had been with her for eight years, flashed by again: friendship that turned to love, love that turned to betrayal, then everything shattered. What guarantee was there that it wouldn’t happen again? None—except the honesty she saw in Hector’s deep brown eyes. Honesty unmasked by charm, because Hector had never tried to woo her with looks.

Slowly, Jessica hooked her pinky around his. Joint touched joint; two pulses thudded side by side. “I’m not ready to give you more,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “but I don’t want to lose you either. So… yes, let’s promise.”

Hector nodded gently, as if every movement had to be careful so this fragile promise wouldn’t snap. He let the pinky link go, clenching his empty hand around the air to swallow the ache.

A CRACKED SMILE

Sunlight now shone in full, falling across Hector’s face so that his smile line showed clearly cracked at the edges like ceramic strained under heat. He knew the consequence of his words: he was the one putting up a fence around his own love just to protect Jessica’s peace. But wasn’t that what love truly was placing someone else’s happiness above your own?

Hector mustered a laugh, just convincing enough. “So, Miss Agoncillo, we’re officially best friends plus sunrise buddies?”

Jessica exhaled, this time with a bit more ease. “Best friends plus tech support plus snack dealer.”

“Deal.” Hector held out his hand for a toss, and Jessica gave it a light slap. From the outside, they looked like two colleagues who’d just negotiated a tricky deal; only Hector knew how hard his heart was pounding in his chest.

TIME TO GO HOME FROM THE PARK

Jessica’s smart watch buzzed: 06:57. “I have to head back. I’ve got a presentation at ten.”

Hector stood up first, stretching out his arms as if offering the whole world to help Jessica rise. “Let’s order the same Grab on your route home. Once you’re dropped off, the driver can take me back to my apartment.”

Jessica nodded. They walked away from the bench, crossing the mosaic path now scattered with early joggers. The bright glow in the sky stood in sharp contrast to the heavy cloud inside Hector’s chest.

At the park’s exit, Hector booked a Grab sedan using Jessica’s phone his local account had once glitched. When the car arrived, he opened the back door for her.

Jessica paused half in, half out of the car. “Thank you for this morning,” she said sincerely. “I… feel a little lighter.”

“That’s enough,” Hector replied. Their eyes met; there was no hug, no kiss, only an unspoken understanding behind the remnants of tears.

Jessica slid inside. Hector followed from the other side.

A CRACKED HEART HIDDEN IN SILENCE

The car rolled onto Roxas Boulevard. The driver—a young man named Enzo—played a cheerful pop song. Jessica leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes for a moment.

Hector forced his lips into a polite curve. “Kuya Enzo, traffic still light, huh?”

“Light, sir. Fifteen minutes to Project 4,” Enzo replied.

Hector responded with small talk about the best halo-halo stalls in Malate. But his mind was split in two: one part mapping the route ahead, the other quietly regretting the promise he’d just made. He tapped his thigh, fighting the urge to scream: “Why couldn’t you just be more patient? Why didn’t you say you’d wait for her with no conditions at all?”

But imagine-if was useless now a promise had been spoken, witnessed by the fountain, the sparrows, and the rising sun. He glanced at Jessica: the girl had dozed off for a moment, her head bobbing every time the car bumped over a pothole. In that brief sleep, her face looked peaceful nothing like the sorrow of an hour ago.

Maybe, Hector thought, this is a small price to pay for her peace. He drew in a long breath, straightened his shoulders, and whispered so low it barely carried, “If I have to keep this promise for a lifetime, I can.”

The car stopped in front of the Agoncillo family home. Jessica woke up, looked at Hector, and said softly, “See you at the office?”

“See you.” Hector smiled the cracks in that smile couldn’t be seen from this distance. Jessica got out, waved to Enzo, and walked toward the gate. When the gate clicked shut behind her, Enzo asked for the next stop. Hector gave the address of the thirty-eighth floor apartment, his voice almost lost.

For the rest of the ride, he turned his face to the window, letting the morning breeze brush across cheeks that suddenly felt warm. No tears fell just eyes turned glassy. He pictured the wooden bench again, the two pinkies hooked together, the fountain catching the orange light. All three were now symbols of a bond: a bond he’d made, a bond he’d promised to bear alone, and who knows a bond that might one day bloom into something more beautiful, if time allowed.

Chapter 4 : Regret From A Promise

07.12 A.M., JOURNEY LEAVING PROJECT 4

The white sedan glided smoothly over the quiet asphalt of Quezon Avenue. High-rise buildings reflected the pale morning sunlight, and kamuning trees along the sidewalk cast fragile shadows on the window glass. In the back seat, Hector rested his head against the faux leather headrest, closing his eyes as if asleep. In truth, his mind was spinning faster than the car’s wheels.

The pinky promise he had just made a promise offered to ease Jessica’s heart now felt like a tightening knot around his own neck. He remembered clearly the echoing moment by the Luneta fountain: “If it’s never meant to be, then let me remain a friend who asks for nothing.” Those words now reverberated in his mind like a speaker held too close to his ear.

07.14 A.M., TALKING WITH DRIVER

Enzo, the twenty-six-year-old Grab driver with a love for conversation, glanced at the rearview mirror. “Sir, breakfast already? I know a pares place open 24/7 good for a broken heart.”

Hector let out a dry laugh. “Do I look that broken?”

“Nah, sir looks… mabigat ang dibdib—heavy chest,” Enzo replied, half-joking.

“Maybe just sleepy.” Hector opened his eyes, deliberately turning the question back, “You? Why awake this early?”

“Double shift for extra pay. I’m saving for my fiancée’s small sari-sari store,” Enzo said enthusiastically. “Lagi ipon, sir, for wedding next year.”

The word “fiancée” pricked Hector’s ears like a needle. Suddenly, a wedding scene played out in his mind a backdrop of flowers, Jessica’s smile in a white dress, but it wasn’t him standing beside her. He quickly swallowed and straightened up in his seat.

“Congrats,” he said, trying to sound sincere. “Hope everything goes smoothly.”

Enzo replied with a long blessing in Tagalog; Hector only caught a few words: pag-ibig (love), tiwala (trust). Those were the very words he had just traded away with his own promise.

07.20 WIB, GAS STATION & HEART FROWNS

The sedan made a brief stop at a gas station along EDSA; Enzo needed to refuel. As soon as the engine shut off, silence crept into the cabin. Hector glanced left and right—there was only the attendant in an orange uniform. He took a deep breath and opened his messaging app:

Jessica — 07:19
Already on the road? Get some rest, okay. Thanks for everything.

Hector stared at the blinking cursor. His fingertips hovered over the screen, typing:

Hector — 07:21
Thank you, too. See you at the office.

He deleted it. Too flat.

Hector — 07:22
Get some sleep before your presentation, Jess. Proud of you today.

Send. The blue dot turned into two check marks. Done. But his heart was far from done. His breath caught as memories flashed: Jessica’s tear-streaked face, the fragile touch of their pinkies, his own cracked smile. Why had he offered the “even if it’s never” option? Was he truly ready to accept being just a friend for the rest of his life?

Enzo returned, the car started moving again. Hector clenched his fingers together—realizing his hands were cold and sweaty.

7:35 A.M., EMERALD CREST LIFT

The apartment’s automatic glass doors swallowed him; the lobby’s scent—a blend of expensive coffee and lavender diffuser—greeted him. He swiped his access card and entered the stainless steel-paneled elevator. As soon as the doors closed, he felt the pressure of static air, as if the world itself was pressing down on his chest.

The elevator mirror reflected a man in a rumpled jacket, red-eyed, his smile line broken. “That’s enough,” he whispered to his reflection. But the image staring back seemed to reply: “Not yet. You haven’t been honest with yourself.”

The chime for the 38th floor sounded. The doors slid open. Hector stepped into the gray-carpeted corridor, the penthouse fingerprint lock clicked. He entered.

7:38 A.M., SILENT AMPHITEATER INSIDE THE PENTHOUSE

The silence of the luxurious room felt like an empty cave. The automatic curtains were still partially drawn, casting a gentle light. Hector set down his backpack, threw himself onto the sofa, and covered his face with his hands. At last, the pressure he’d been holding in since Luneta broke: his chest shook—not with loud sobs, but with the muffled cries of a grown man trying to hold it in. Tears seeped through his fingers he didn’t know for how long.

When it finally subsided, he sat up, took a deep breath, and looked at the marble table. There lay the cream envelope the biopsy results untouched all night. He reached for it, feeling the edge of the paper press against his skin; his heartbeat thundered in his ears.

“If it’s bad news, will I still be able to keep my promise?” he murmured. He remembered his resolve: “I’m here not to be a burden to you.” But if it really was cancer, even stepping back as ‘just a friend’ would still drag Jessica into a whirlpool of grief.

He pulled his hand away, deciding not to open it. “Give me one more day,” he pleaded to the silent envelope, then set it back down.

08.00 A.M., KITCHEN & HEART CORRECTION

Hector turned on the automatic coffee machine, poured in the milk, and watched the foam build up. The aroma of Arabica filled the air. He closed his eyes, trying to count: one, two, three—exhaling regret; four, five, six inhaling fresh oxygen.

“Keeping a promise doesn’t mean giving up,” he finally found the thread. If he truly loved Jessica, he wouldn’t stop showing it even if the label was ‘friend.’ Love isn’t a salary that disappears the moment a contract is canceled; it’s more like a plump savings account that someone else can draw from to survive.

FLASHBACK: 3 DAYS BEFORE, ST. LUKE'S CLINIC

White neon lights, the scent of disinfectant, the hum of the air conditioner. Hector sat on a vinyl bench, his hands trembling as he held the scan results.

The doctor adjusted his glasses and spoke slowly in English, “We found a lymphatic mass. Further tests are needed. The stage is still uncertain, but we’ll move as quickly as possible.”

Hector fell silent. He pictured the phone at home in Surabaya, his mother’s face, and—strangely Jessica’s face. He asked, “If… worst case, how long?”

The doctor shrugged cautiously. “We’ll talk after the pathology results.”

Leaving the clinic, he hugged the scan results as if they were a late college assignment. The street outside felt like a giant spinning mahjong board; he sent a message to Jessica: “Can you work late tonight?” Just so his mind would be occupied with coding, not cancer.

09.10 A.M., VIDEO DIARY

Back to the present. The coffee was gone, but his head still throbbed. Hector turned on the laptop camera, opened the recording app, and sat up straight. “Video Diary 001,” he said, naming the file.

“If one day I don’t get the chance to speak, this video is for the girl named Jessica Agoncillo.

Hi, Jess. Today we promised to meet at Luneta. You said you needed time; I said I was ready to wait. The truth is, the biggest reason I don’t want to postpone anything is that my own time might be limited. The doctor said there’s a suspicious mass. I haven’t dared to share it with you—you’re already tired enough. But hear this: even though my body is weak, my feelings are not. If I lose later, I hope you remember: there was an ordinary man who felt blessed just to see you laugh behind the screen of the office laptop…”

He paused, his voice breaking. Wiping away tears, he continued: “And if I win, I hope there’s still room in your day for the strange stories you always call my brand.” He let out a soft laugh, mixed with a sob. “End of log.” Click stop.

The file was saved. He named it: LunetaPromise-Hector001.

10.02 A.M., SLEEP WITHOUT DREAMS

Physical and emotional exhaustion conspired together. Hector collapsed onto the bed without taking off his shoes. On the brink of sleep, he asked himself, “Do I regret it?” The answer came faintly: he regretted offering an option to back out too soon, but he did not regret loving.

His eyes closed; the sound of the washing machine in the service room echoed like the fountain at Luneta. In that half-conscious sleep, he saw Jessica’s silhouette walking in the park, turning, smiling, then saying something unheard. The dawn in that dream kept repeating—never shifting to noon—as if his subconscious wanted to immortalize the moment before the promise was spoken.

01.37 P.M., RINGTONE FROM MOBILE PHONE

He woke to the sound of a long ringtone. Squinting at the screen, he read:

Jessica: “Presentation’s done. The team loved your API design. Thanks! BTW, are you free tonight? Mom sent fresh seafood—want to have dinner at my place?”

Hector read it three times. His heart pounded. Dinner at her house? A family invitation? Maybe not romantic, but definitely a new level of trust.

Hector replied:
“Would love to. I’ll bring some Indonesian dessert, okay?”

The blue checkmarks appeared instantly. Jessica: “Deal! See you at 7 p.m., snack dealer.”

He put down his phone. A smile spread across his face—almost whole this time, though the cracks hadn’t vanished. He realized something: that pinky promise wasn’t a locked gate, but a wooden bridge. How fragile that bridge was, yet every invitation—even a simple dinner—was another plank that made it stronger.

02.00 P.M., NEW DECISION

Hector got up, took a warm shower, and shaved quickly. In the kitchen, he opened the biopsy envelope—not because he felt ready, but because now he needed certainty to move forward. A thin sheet of paper slipped out: “Histopathology suggests early stage Hodgkin lymphoma. Prognosis generally favorable with treatment.”

His hands trembled, but a breath of relief flowed through him. “Early stage. It can be fought.” He leaned back against the fridge, eyes glassy—not with grief, but with hope.

He typed into his phone’s calendar:
Monday, 9 a.m. — Oncology consult, first step.

Then he took out a frozen lapis Surabaya cake from the freezer—the dessert he’d bring over that evening. From his wardrobe, he picked out a simple batik shirt; he wanted Jessica and her family to see a little piece of Indonesia.

06.20 P.M., TAXI TO PROJECT 4 (EPILOGUE)

Dusk brushed Manila’s sky with a gentle orange hue. In the backseat of a Grab sedan, Hector glanced at the side mirror: his face looked the same as always—maybe tired—but his eyes now held a new spark—the fire of a fighter. The radio played an old song: “Kahit Maputi Na Ang Buhok Ko.” The lyrics said: “Even when my hair turns white, my love will stay the same.”

Hector let out a small smile. He held the box of lapis Surabaya cake tight and typed a short message:
“Hey Jessica, on my way. Thank you for inviting me home before the night gets too dark.”

The car moved on, city lights flickering to life one by one like little prayers. Hector closed his eyes for a moment, repeating the words he’d say if, over dinner later, Jessica asked, “Are you still waiting?” He’d already chosen his answer:

“I never left—I’m just standing a few steps behind you, keeping you from falling.”

Morning had turned to dusk, Luneta’s fountain had fallen quiet again, but the promise made on that park bench now carried a new meaning: not a chain to bind him, but a compass to guide his way. And behind the car window, misted slightly with the evening breeze, Hector let his heart steady itself: regrets might come and go, but this fight—his fight—would keep moving forward.