WHEN LOVE FAILS

CHAPTER 22 - When Love Fails

Jeng's POV:

The ocean has always been my peace.
It's the only place that never leaves, never judges, never demands anything from me. Whether calm or angry, soft or raging—it stays. That's why I love it so much.

The waves understand me better than people ever did. When I'm hurting, they crash for me. When I'm calm, they whisper back in rhythm. The ocean has been both my witness and my comfort, my mirror and my hiding place.

Maybe that's why I keep coming back here—because even when love fails, the sea never does.

After four breakups and all the heartache that followed, I convinced myself that maybe love wasn't meant for me. I was tired—tired of giving too much, of believing too hard, of hoping someone would stay.

"Maybe love just isn't meant for me."
I'd tell myself that whenever I felt the ache return.

So, I built my peace in solitude. I focused on myself—on healing, on creating, on chasing sunsets alone by the shore. I learned to fall in love with my own company, and I told myself that was enough.

Until Ralph Nacario came along.

He wasn't just another person. He carried this energy that felt like sunlight after days of rain—warm, blinding, impossible to ignore. He was charming, sure, but it wasn't just that. There was something deeper—something that made me feel alive again.

"My heart feels so alive when I'm with him... or am I just physically attracted to him?"

I didn't know. I just knew that whenever he smiled, something inside me shifted.
After all the heartbreak, I thought I'd turned to stone—but around him, I felt human again.

I tried to fight it.
"I can't go crazy for someone again," I told myself.
But the more I resisted, the more I fell.

Every laugh, every conversation, every quiet moment we shared... chipped away at the walls I'd built. I hated that it felt good. I hated that I wanted him to stay. Because every time I'd fallen before, love always ended up leaving me wrecked—like a shore after the storm.

And the thoughts wouldn't stop coming.
"What if he still loves his ex?"
"What if he cheats on me?"
"What if he's only here because he's lonely?"
"What if God takes him away too?"
"What if it's just lust?"

Why does love always fail?
Is it because we expect too much from it?
Is it because people change, or because we do?
Or maybe love fails because it's never meant to stay—it's meant to teach.

I looked at Ralph and wondered if this time could be different. He was flirtatious, yes—his charm was dangerous—but when he looked at me, it felt sincere. There was a softness in his voice, a steadiness in his gaze that made me want to believe.

Maybe, this was the beginning of something real.

I came across a quote once that said:
"You will never have to chase somebody who is meant to be with you, because they won't run. They will stay and stay and stay, no matter what happens."

Those words hit me like a wave, and I thought of him.
He never ran. Even when things got complicated, he stayed.

With my past relationships, I was always chasing—trying to prove that I was worth loving. But with Ralph, it felt... peaceful. Like standing before the ocean, not needing to do anything but breathe.

Maybe love doesn't have to be loud.
Maybe love can be quiet—steady, like waves that never stop returning to the shore.

Still, I found myself questioning:
Why am I so confused? Am I not ready yet? Or am I just scared of getting hurt again?

Do I really love him? Or do I just love the way he makes me feel?

The ocean roared in front of me, as if answering. Love, like the sea, is never perfectly calm. It has tides—moments of peace and moments of chaos. You can't control it. You just learn to swim through it.

I sighed.
I just need to think things through. I just need to open my heart to find out.

Because deep down, I knew—love isn't something you plan. It happens, quietly, like the tide sneaking up your feet.

Sometimes, love starts as a distraction, then becomes destiny.
And maybe Ralph was mine.

Sitting there by the shore, watching the sun melt into the water, I realized something.
When love fails, it doesn't mean it's gone forever. Sometimes, it just changes form. Sometimes, it leads you exactly where you're meant to be.

"Maybe... I was never really alone."
The thought came softly, like the sound of waves.

And then, almost like an echo, Ralph's voice played in my mind:
"Jeng, I never imagined I'd have this kind of connection with someone. But now that you're here, I just want to fight for it. Yes, Jeng, I'm willing to fight for how I feel about you."

His words still lingered in my chest, warm and heavy.

"Really, Ralph? You're not afraid?"
"Yes," he said, smiling softly. "But I'm braver when I know you're the one I'm fighting for."

That memory stayed with me. Not the grand moments, but the quiet ones—the gentle honesty, the way his eyes met mine with no need for promises.

Love had failed me before, yes. But maybe failure was part of its beauty. Maybe love isn't about permanence—it's about the courage to try again.

As the waves kissed the shore, I finally understood.
Even when love fails, it leaves behind lessons, strength, and sometimes, the right person at the right time.

I looked out at the horizon, feeling the salt in the air and the wind brushing my skin. The ocean shimmered under the fading light, endless and forgiving.

Maybe this is what love truly is—
not perfect, not certain, but real.
And maybe... I'm finally ready to love again.

For so long, I believed love had to be flawless, full of fireworks and promises that never fade. But standing here, with the sound of the waves echoing my heartbeat, I realize love doesn't have to be loud to be true. It's in the quiet gestures, the steady presence, the willingness to stay even when things get difficult.

The ocean keeps moving, no matter how many times it breaks against the shore.
Maybe that's what I'll do too—
keep loving, keep believing, keep beginning again.