The Gangster Princess

Chapter 34

Chapter 34: Fading Lights, Fighting Hearts

Aisha Fancy Lee

I’ve always believed I was unbreakable.

I used to walk around with bruises on my knees and scrapes on my arms, and still smirk at the world like I owned it. But now, even standing too long makes my legs shake. Even lifting my arms feels like lifting the weight of the universe.

It’s been three weeks since the diagnosis.

Three weeks since I learned I had leukemia.

Three weeks of pretending I’m okay when I’m not.

Acute lymphoblastic leukemia. That’s what the doctor called it. A type of blood cancer that attacks the bone marrow, floods the body with immature white blood cells, and slowly eats away at your strength, your clarity, and your hope.

I never knew exhaustion until now. This isn’t just pagod na puyat or drained from overthinking. It’s the kind of exhaustion that makes blinking feel like a task. Yung tipong kahit naka-upo ka na, you still feel like your body’s screaming to lie down.

My gums bleed randomly. My bones ache even without moving. My appetite disappeared along with my long, thick hair. At first, it fell in strands. Then in clumps. Now, it’s gone.

I look in the mirror and barely recognize myself.

The wig covers the truth. It helps me pretend—at least to others. But I know. And Reid knows. That behind this façade is a girl slowly being pulled apart from the inside.

“Okay ka lang ba?” Reid asked in that deep, composed tone of his.

He’s always so calm, so cold to everyone else. But when it comes to me, he’s different. He’s patient. He’s warm—quietly, secretly warm.

He placed a glass of water and my meds on the table beside me. His eyes studied me like he was trying to memorize everything—just in case.

I took a shaky breath. “Nah. It’s getting harder. The headaches are nonstop. My stomach turns for no reason. Minsan, I feel like I’m floating. Then out of nowhere, it’s like may gumugulo sa dibdib ko.”

His jaw clenched. That was his way of reacting when he couldn’t fix something. “I wish I could take the pain.”

“You already are,” I whispered, managing a smile.

He sat beside me, holding my hand, brushing his thumb along my knuckles.

This was the third week into my chemo cycle. I had one more session this week, and if all goes well, they’ll do another blood test. But the side effects were brutal. I had nausea that lingered from morning till night. My skin turned pale, almost translucent. My lips—once soft and pink—were cracked and colorless.

But the emotional pain? That was the worst.

I felt like I was fading. Piece by piece. Like I was no longer the girl who could throw punches, take down anyone in the ring, or dance barefoot in the rain. I was a patient now. A sick girl. That label haunted me more than anything.

Most days, it feels like drowning in slow motion. You breathe—but it's never enough. You try to smile—but your face forgets how. Your bones ache even when you're lying still. Your body feels like it’s made of glass—one wrong move, and you’ll shatter.

I miss having energy. I miss laughing without feeling like I’m about to faint. I miss the old me.

I sat by the window, the morning light bleeding through the curtains. My wig itched against my scalp—another reminder that I’d lost one of the things I used to love most about myself: my hair. It used to be long, thick, and wavy. Laging pinupuri ng mga tao. Now? Just a memory.