When Love Break Ties

Chapter 46: Abby's New Beginning

Abby stood on the balcony of her small apartment in Cebu, watching the morning light filter through the clouds and bathe the city in a soft, golden hue. The hum of early traffic mixed with the sounds of vendors setting up their stalls along the street. For the first time in months, Abby felt a strange, unfamiliar sense of calm, as if the storm that had been raging inside her had finally begun to subside.

It had been weeks since Nathan left for Manila. Their emotional goodbye had left her feeling raw and fragile, like an old wound that had reopened. For a while, she couldn't shake the hollow ache of his absence, the feeling that something essential had been torn away from her. But as the days passed, she realized that the ache was more than just the loss of Nathan. It was the weight of all the unresolved pain she had been carrying with her for so long—her strained relationship with her family, her unfulfilled dreams, and the overwhelming pressure she had placed on herself to always be strong, always be perfect.

The breakup had forced her to confront the parts of herself she had been running from for years. And in a way, that was the most painful part of all. Nathan had been her escape, her way of avoiding the difficult truths that lurked beneath the surface. But now, with him gone, she had no choice but to face them head-on.

Abby had returned to Cebu with the intention of rebuilding her life. She didn't have a grand plan or a clear vision of what that would look like. All she knew was that she needed to start by mending the broken relationships she had left behind, beginning with her family. Her relationship with her mother, in particular, had always been strained. Their conflicts were not new—years of misunderstandings, expectations, and old wounds had created a chasm between them that felt impossible to bridge. But Abby was determined to try.

The first step was to move back home, at least temporarily. Her parents were surprised by her decision but welcomed her with open arms. It had been years since she had lived under their roof, and the adjustment wasn't easy. There were awkward silences, moments of tension that flared up when old habits resurfaced, and the unspoken resentment that still lingered between her and her mother. But this time, Abby was committed to doing things differently. Instead of shutting down or walking away, she forced herself to stay in those uncomfortable moments, to have the difficult conversations she had been avoiding for so long.

One evening, as they sat together at the dining table, Abby decided it was time to break the silence that had been hanging between them since her return.

"Ma, can we talk?" Abby's voice was tentative, but firm.

Her mother, seated across from her, looked up from her plate, slightly surprised. "About what?"

"About us. About everything that's happened."

Her mother sighed, her expression softening. "I've been waiting for you to say that, Abby. It's been hard... for both of us."

Abby nodded, her throat tightening. "I know. I haven't been fair to you, Ma. I've been so focused on my own life, on trying to figure things out, that I didn't stop to think about how you were feeling. I'm sorry."

Her mother's eyes glistened with tears as she reached across the table to take Abby's hand. "I'm sorry too. I never wanted to make you feel like you weren't enough. I just... I didn't know how to show you that I love you. And I know I pushed you too hard."

Abby squeezed her mother's hand, feeling the weight of years of resentment and hurt beginning to lift. "I understand now. And I want us to be better. I want to work on our relationship."

They sat there for a while, holding hands, as the walls that had kept them apart for so long slowly began to crumble. It wasn't an easy conversation, and it certainly wasn't the last they would have to have. But it was a start—a new beginning for both of them.

In the weeks that followed, Abby began to rediscover the beauty of life in Cebu. She reconnected with old friends, spent time exploring the city, and even volunteered at a local organization that supported women and children. She found joy in the simple things—walking along the beach at sunset, sharing meals with her family, and rediscovering the parts of herself that had been buried beneath the weight of her past.

She also threw herself into her work, taking on new projects and collaborations that reignited her passion for creativity. Her social media platforms, which had once been a source of stress and self-doubt, became a space for authentic connection and expression. Instead of striving for perfection, she began sharing her journey—the ups and downs, the challenges and triumphs—and found that her followers responded with overwhelming support and encouragement. It was a reminder that she didn't have to have it all figured out, that it was okay to be vulnerable and imperfect.

One evening, as she sat on her balcony with her laptop open, Abby began to write a letter to Nathan. She wasn't sure why—maybe it was a way of finding closure, or maybe it was her way of reaching out one last time. Either way, the words flowed easily, as if they had been waiting to be written.

Dear Nathan,

I've been thinking a lot about us lately, and I wanted to let you know how much you meant to me, how much you still mean to me. Our time together was intense and messy and beautiful all at once, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. But I also understand why things had to end the way they did. We were both searching for something, and in the process, we lost sight of ourselves.

Cebu has been good for me. I'm rebuilding my life here, slowly but surely. I've been spending more time with my family, working on our relationships, and finding peace in the little things. It's not easy, but it's a start. I hope you're doing well back in Manila. I hope you've found what you were looking for.

Maybe one day, our paths will cross again. Maybe we'll find a way back to each other, or maybe we'll continue on our separate journeys. Either way, I'll always be grateful for the time we shared and the lessons we learned together.

Take care, Nathan.

Always,

Abby

She read over the letter several times before hitting send. As the email disappeared from her outbox, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. It wasn't about reconciliation, at least not in the traditional sense. It was about letting go, about acknowledging the love they had shared without holding onto the pain. It was about giving herself permission to move forward, even if that meant moving on without him.

As the months passed, Abby continued to heal and grow. Her relationships with her family, especially her mother, blossomed in ways she hadn't thought possible. They weren't perfect—there were still moments of tension and disagreement—but they were learning to navigate those challenges with more patience and understanding. And in the process, Abby found herself becoming more grounded, more at peace with who she was and where she was headed.

There were days when she still thought about Nathan—wondered what he was doing, how he was feeling, if he had found the sense of belonging he had been searching for. But those thoughts didn't consume her anymore. She had learned that love didn't always have to end in happily ever after. Sometimes, love was about growth, about learning from the pain and coming out stronger on the other side.

Abby's new beginning wasn't the one she had imagined, but it was hers. And for the first time in a long time, that was enough.