DESPITE the tears on her face, she smiled. Seconds later and she was already giggling. I was stunned. It was Alison’s first real laughter after so many years. Whoever said that broken crayons were useless? Alison Cabrera was a proof that broken crayons… could still color just as beautifully.
“Enough of this,” I said after a while. “They say that the most dangerous woman of all is the one who refuses to rely on a man’s sword because she carries her own. But you can let your guard now, Ali, and put down your sword. Don’t worry, it doesn’t mean that you’re giving up the fight. Just take a rest for now. Let me take charge. Let me do the fighting for you this time. I am here,” I added, deliberately emphasizing the last three words. “I’m often right in front of you and yet, you still forget that I’m just right here, that no matter what happens, you have an ally in me. Need me, Ali. We’re best friends, aren’t we? You know that you can always rely on me. Besides, you have proven to the world how brave you are. You can stop now, Ali. You can stop the act now.”
“I… I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“What if you grow tired of me, too? What if I get abandoned in the end, too? Even I get tired of myself most of the time, too. But I can’t complain because I only have myself now. I don’t even have any pride left in me anymore. If I allow myself to get my hopes up and rely on someone again and if I end up hurt again, I’d crumble, Rem. This much distance is enough for me.”
“Deep inside, you know I’m right. You know you need someone, Ali. You know you need help.”
Instead of responding, Alison just cried. Her stance became unsteady and then she suddenly passed out.

(Alison)
“WE USED to be so happy back then, Nana Marcia. What do you think happened? How did everything go wrong?”
I was about to go downstairs when I heard Jasper asked that question. He and Nana Marcia were currently in the living room. Nana used to be the head maid in our mansion. Even if our family fell apart, she never left us. She still continued to serve us without asking for anything in return. She doesn’t even accept the money I’ve been trying to give her and would insist that I use the money for our other needs instead.
Nana Marcia treated us like family. And we feel the same way, too. She was the one who helps me with the household chores and in taking care of Demi.
When I saw how Jasper’s shoulders shook as he wept while looking at our family portrait. I felt like my heart had been slashed into tiny pieces. He was crying in Nana Marcia’s arms. It was past one in the morning but the two were still awake. I know that they were worried about our situation. If not for me, Jasper would have been able to talk to our mother freely every time we feel weak and our lives wouldn’t have been like this.
For the countless time ever since that accident, I’ve lost the courage to face Nana Marcia and my brother once again. None of them blamed me for what happened. And that made me feel guiltier. My mom, Jasper, and my child were all victims of the wrong decisions I made in my life.
Instead of going down to get myself a glass of water, I quietly went back to my room and lay beside my daughter who was sleeping peacefully. Tears ran down my cheeks while watching her sleeping.
Demi’s father was a memory that I ought to erase. But it was so difficult to do that because Demi and Alexandros had the same personalities. Even their hobbies and mannerisms were the same. Every little thing that my daughter does reminds me of Alexandros. And that made it extra hard for me to move on. I breathed heavily.
“We used to be so happy back then, Nana Marcia. What do you think happened? How did everything go wrong?”
My chest constricted when I remembered Jasper’s questions. Those were the same questions I ask myself at night. I was about to close my eyes to get some sleep when I heard my phone vibrated on the bedside table. I almost groaned when I read Greta’s text message. She was furious because the manuscript I sent her was under major revision.
I opened the email which she sent me. It was about her Editor’s comments and most of them were about the hero of the story. It was the first major revision I had ever received. And here I was, anticipating the payment for it for the house rent.
I got up and went towards the window. I opened it because I suddenly felt suffocated. I looked up at the sky as I clutched my chest.
“Why? Why are You doing this to me?” I whispered in a voice filled with grief. “Why couldn’t You give me a break even just for a moment? Why do You have to keep testing me? Did You think I was strong? Well then, You are wrong.” My voice trembled. “I am not strong. I’m too drained right at this very minute and I don’t think I can take any more of Your challenges.”
When I remembered the Editor’s feedback, I sobbed. Everything that she said was right. I failed to write the hero’s point of views as effectively as the heroine’s. I failed to build his character accurately. There were details about him that I missed. Maybe it was because I based his character on Alexandros and I failed to get to know the real thing properly.
Because looking back, I couldn’t tell anymore if I really knew Alexandros Sormont, the man behind the story. Or maybe because the pain was still too much that writing about us clouded my emotions as a writer. There were endless possibilities. And it affected my job as a writer.
“I shouldn’t have written our story in the first place, Alexandros. It was a mistake. Oops, I was wrong.” I laughed bitterly. “From the beginning, it was just my story. It was never ours. You made it clear when you disappeared on our wedding day.”