Running Out of Songs (LenRisa One-Shot Stories)

Bulong

Ako'y alipin ng pagibig mo
Handang ibigin ang isang tulad mo
Hanggat ang puso mo'y sa akin lang hindi ka na malilinlang
Ikaw ang ilaw sa dilim at ang liwanag ng mga bituin

My 28-hour duty was about to begin, and as I drove to the hospital, I couldn't help but reflect on my profession. Medicine has always felt like a love-hate relationship. There are moments when I wonder what life might've been like had I chosen a different path--what if I hadn't pursued the medical field? But there's also a part of me that feels fulfilled, especially my childhood self, who would be so proud to see me living out one of her dreams.

I parked and clocked in, exchanging greetings with the staff as they welcomed me for another long shift. On my way to the nurse's station, a familiar sense of anticipation hit me--I had been expecting something.

"Doc Hontiveros, pinaabot po pala ni Atty. Gerona," one of the nurses said, handing me a small package.

"Ah, nagpunta ba siya?" I asked, surprised.

"Driver niya po ang nag-abot kanina," she replied with a smile. "Miss na nga po namin siya, Doc."

I chuckled softly. "Sige, thanks for this."

The package felt heavier than it looked, and as I made my way toward my office, a sense of unease crept in. I couldn't shake the feeling that it contained exactly what I thought it did—something I wasn't sure I was ready to face. I placed it on my desk and decided to head for the break room to grab a cup of coffee before opening it. Maybe a few moments of caffeine and quiet would help settle my nerves.

I returned to my office, the smell of fresh coffee wafting from the cup in my hand. Sitting down at my desk, I eyed the package from Atty. Gerona, a sense of dread growing inside me. I took a deep breath and opened it, revealing exactly what I feared—a signed resignation letter from her.

Two years ago, we had agreed she would be my personal lawyer, someone I trusted not only professionally but also personally. I never imagined it would end like this.

Before reading the formal resignation, I unfolded a personal note she had attached. The words were heavy with emotion, more so than I expected.

"We haven't been okay lately. I wonder why you suddenly cut me off. If you're not affected by this situation, congrats! But I can't keep my professionalism with you, knowing we are not okay personally. Please accept my resignation. The letter is already signed. If there's anything I need to pay or settle, call me after receiving this."

The words stung, and I felt a pang of guilt. She was right—we hadn't been okay, and I hadn't made any effort to reach out. My hands trembled as I set the note down and reached for my phone.

I dialed her number, my heart pounding. After a few rings, she picked up.

"Lens," I said softly, using the nickname I'd always called her by.

Her tone was sharp, cutting through the air. "Stop calling me 'Lens'. What's your problem? Kung hindi ako magpapasa ng resignation, hindi mo man lang ako tatawagan? Ano bang nangyayari sa'yo?"

I swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "Wala naman. I'm sorry, Lens."

There was silence on the other end for a moment before she spoke again, her voice softer but still hurt. "Why are you distancing yourself from me? What changed?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to explain the mess of emotions I had been avoiding. But I knew I couldn't keep running from it forever.

"Can we talk about it in person? Tomorrow, after my duty?" I asked, hoping that a face-to-face conversation would help clear the air.