Beneath The Scars

PROLOGUE

AMARA RAUDELA MAURER

I flopped onto the couch, deflated and exhausted, not even caring that my papers scattered across the coffee table. My eyes still stung from the glowing screen of the TV. They’d just announced that a massive typhoon was headed straight toward us. Right now, I was supposed to be heading to the office to submit a report that was already overdue. But there was no chance of that happening in this weather. I’d have to ask for another extension, and just the thought made my heart sink. Again.

"Hey, you okay?" Megan, glanced up, pausing in the middle of stuffing her backpack. Her voice was soft, as if she could feel my unease, and it tugged at something raw inside me.

I sighed, staring down at my hands. "Honestly? Not really. This is my third time asking for an extension, Meg. I don’t know if I’ll get another chance."

She set her backpack down and came over, giving me a look that was half amusement, half sympathy. "Oh, come on. Your boss totally has a soft spot for you. He likes you, doesn’t he? Just use a little charm. Show that cute smile—he won’t be able to resist." She reached over, squeezing my cheeks with a smirk.

Rolling my eyes, I pushed her hands away, fighting a small smile.

I leaned back, crossing my arms. "What about you, though? Where are you going in this mess? Headed home?"

She exhaled dramatically, nodding. "Yeah, better safe than sorry. Mamimiss ko ang amoy ng petchay mo!" She laughed, that familiar teasing glint lighting up her eyes.

I cringed, pretending to shove her away. "Excuse me? Meg, what are you even talking about?"

With a mischievous grin, she hugged me tightly, not giving me a chance to escape. "Oh, come on, Ara. Admit it—Mamimiss mo rin ang amoy ng petchat ko, It’s way better than your fancy perfume."

I was mid-sip of my coffee, and I nearly choked. "You’re disgusting. Like, actually disgusting. Just go already. You’re a hazard." But as she grabbed her bag and turned to leave, I felt a pang, knowing the house would feel emptier, colder, without her around.

Before stepping out, she blew me a flying kiss. I ducked, dodging it with a grin, and she laughed as the door closed behind her.

The silence that followed felt heavier than usual. I took a deep breath, forcing myself up off the couch, and decided I might as well head to the office. Even if the rain was pouring down in sheets, I had to try and submit my work. I was too tired to deal with the anxiety of another delay.

Grabbing my stack of papers, I went through each file one by one. These weren’t just papers; they were stories, parts of lives I had witnessed and tried to help heal. Pages full of breakthroughs and struggles—every single one of my patients’ journeys woven together, representing countless hours spent supporting them as they fought to build their mental strength. After a final glance through, I sealed the papers in a plastic folder to keep them dry and grabbed my umbrella.

The wind hit me hard as soon as I stepped outside, nearly blowing my umbrella right out of my grip. The rain came down cold and sharp, seeping into my skin, and it felt like every gust of wind carried a warning. "Hassle," I muttered under my breath, squinting up at the darkening sky as if it were responsible.

I stepped carefully, the rain turning the roads slick and dangerous. The water was already creeping up, nearly kissing the heels of my shoes. One wrong step, and they’d be ruined, soaked in the flood that was slowly taking over the street.

"Doc! Doc Daniel!" I shouted when I reached the office. Through the glass, I spotted my colleague slumped over by the window, dozing as usual. He always fell asleep during rainy days, like he couldn’t resist the lull of the storm.

"Doc Dan—" Just then, the door swung open, and he blinked at me, his face marked with soft lines of sleep. He offered me a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Doc Ara. Rain always knocks me out, you know. Is that the report?" he asked, nodding toward the folder in my hand.

I nodded, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety as I handed it over. Another deadline met. But I couldn’t shake the restlessness tugging at me as I glanced out the window. I was eager to head home before the storm worsened, yet something held me back, something I couldn’t quite name.

My mind drifted back to the stack of files I kept in my office. Without really thinking, I made my way back to my desk, hands running over the cold, worn wood as I opened the drawer. Years’ worth of records filled it, memories of patients I’d helped and the paths they’d taken. Each file held a part of me, of moments spent helping them find strength. But sometimes, I felt like those files also held pieces of me I hadn’t dealt with yet.

Then I saw it—a small, weathered slip of paper poking out from the edge of a worn book. My breath caught. Slowly, I reached for it, heart pounding as my fingers traced the faded words written across the top. "Kaegan Isiah Travis Case."

I hadn’t thought of him in years, yet here he was, the memories as vivid as ever. My heart twisted painfully, a mixture of longing and hurt flooding back like a wave.

Kaegan, My first and greatest love. First and greatest heartbreak too.

I closed my eyes, breathing through the ache, letting it roll over me before I finally put the paper back. It had been years, but sometimes, it felt like only yesterday.

I gave myself a moment before shaking off the lingering memories. With a renewed focus, I gathered the files I actually needed and tucked them into my bag. It was time to head home. The rain showed no sign of letting up, and I wasn’t about to get stranded here, not tonight.

Outside, the rain seemed even harsher, each droplet a cold prick on my skin despite the umbrella. I kept my head down, watching my step carefully as I navigated through the rising water, trying to keep my shoes dry. The world around me was a blur of gray and wet, the rain heavy and relentless. Then, out of nowhere, someone stepped into my umbrella’s shelter, bumping against me, and in that moment, my world froze.

The cold rain seeped through my clothes as I stood there, my umbrella useless, my heartbeat louder than the storm. My eyes locked onto the figure before me, a shadow just beyond the rim of my umbrella, but I’d know that presence anywhere. He was someone I never thought I’d see again.

"Kit." The name slipped from my lips, soft, almost inaudible, as I stared at him, breath caught, heart racing.

He was the reason I found the strength to pursue psychiatry—and the reason I ended up as a patient myself.

Yes, I’m a psychiatrist, yet there was a time when I needed one myself because I had no idea how to help myself anymore. It’s almost ironic—I could tell people exactly what they needed to do to strengthen their mental health, yet I couldn’t apply those same words to my own life.