The bright, colorful blooming flowers that her mother planted along the side of her driveway seemed to stick out too much against the gloomy sky, the sight making Constantine’s head almost throb as she parked her car.

She had to pause her plans and made an early trip home after receiving the text from her mother. Throughout the drive, she would have to consciously relax her grip on the wheel.

Not that it helped with the simmering emotions in her chest.

“Connie,” her mother opened her arms in a welcome hug as she entered her childhood home. “You really don’t have to cut your trip short.”

“I know. It’s not really a problem,” Constantine replied as they migrated to the living room. The familiar beige-and-white-colored room remained the same as she remembered, the same old but comfortable sofa by the window, and the same bookshelf standing by the corner, with the same books and decorations. 

Her mother brought some refreshments and a plate of cookies, saying she bought them fresh this morning. For a while, both mother and daughter exchanged stories of their days pleasantly, Constantine listening as her mother talked about this new reading group she had just joined.

“Mom,” Constantine interjected, unable to stay quiet anymore. “What exactly did Lizzie tell you?”

Her mother stopped talking and looked at her daughter with a mix of confusion and concern. “Well, she actually called me days ago, asking about you. I was confused at first, but she didn’t really stay on the phone long. Then she called again, that day when I texted you, asking for you and saying that you wouldn’t pick up. I was terrified something happened to you, so I started texting you while she was still on call.”

“I was fine,” Constantine automatically answered.

“I know, dear,” her mother said as she patted her on the hand. “You don’t know how relieved I was that you answered. But Lizzie was having a breakdown, so you couldn’t really blame me. And,” she gave her daughter a look. “You never really talk about what’s happening in your life with me.”

Constantine looked down at her hands. She heard her mother sigh warmly.

“I know you love your privacy, Connie. But still, don’t forget that you can still rely on me, yeah?” Her mother gave her a pat on the head, much like when she was still younger. “Or your dear aging mother will only live a boring life.”

Constantine chuckled, giving her mother a small smile.

“Still,” her mother said after a few seconds of silence, “Lizzie told me that the two of you have some sort of misunderstandings? And that she was trying to say sorry to you, but you refuse to see or listen to her.”

Constantine could feel her body getting rigid at the mention of Lizzie.

“Really, you two. You know that nothing will change if you two don't talk it out.” She gave her a mildly scolding look. “You two have been friends since you’re still children. Throwing away such history over a small argument seems a bit too much.” She then straightened in her seat with a smile. “How about this: we could invite Lizzie for dinner and you two could talk after.”

“I have nothing to say to her.” The coldness of her words and tones surprised her mother, adding more confusion. As she was about to say something, the doorbell suddenly rang. Her mother looked in the direction of the door, then at her daughter, before going to see the visitor.

Constantine took a deep breath, trying to get control of her emotions, until she heard that familiar sweet voice from outside the door. Any strings left tying her emotions in control snapped, and Constantine found herself walking to where her mother was talking to someone she was quite familiar with.

Hair styled, makeup perfectly applied, dress not a wrinkle in sight, smile still as charming and fake, eyes still as calculating.

Seeing how perfect she looked after everything made all the simmering emotions evaporate out of thin air.

Leaving nothing but cold, encompassing rage.

“Connie!” Lizzie gasped in surprise. “You’re back? I. . . didn’t know.”

Did you? 

“What are you doing here?” Her mother gave her a scolding look at her cold tone. Constantine kept her gaze directly at Lizzie, noting the smallest change in her face and expression, determined not to miss anything.

God, how many signs has she failed to notice? How many has she unconsciously purposely missed?

“Connie,” Lizzie’s voice turned pleading. “Please, at least let me explain—”

“No need,” Constantine cut her off. “Any more words from you would just be repetitive and redundant. Besides, I have no need for empty words from you.”

“Constantine,” her mother said, but Constantine’s gaze remained on Lizzie.

“Look, I know that you're angry—”

“Angry?” Constantine wanted to scoff when she noticed a small twitch in Lizzie’s eyes after she cut her again. “I think that would be the least of your concerns now, especially after trying to get others involved.”

Lizzie’s eyes moved to Constantine’s mother for half a second. 

“You refused to pick up my calls, refused to reply to my messages,” Lizzie looked at her, hurt. She then added in a soft voice, “I just wanted to talk to you, even for a short while. I was just trying to reach you and talk.”

“And I told you, there’s no need.” Constantine looked her straight in the eye. Her hands were shaking, so she curled them into a fist. “You know what you did. You’re aware of what you caused.”

“Please,” Lizzie said softly, her eyes shining with gathering tears. “I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but our feelings were true. We were just looking for an opportunity to tell you about it.”

Constantine did scoff this time. “Is that why you guys took almost a year? If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, would you both continue to hide it from me?” She looked down, absently looking at the expensive-looking shoes Lizzie was wearing. She had always liked buying new ones for statement.

She remembered seeing the exact shoe in Anthony's apartment when she dropped in for a surprise visit, its pair left in the direction of Anthony’s bedroom.

That night, the only one who was left crying was Constantine, as Lizzie’s—the person she trusted the most— words followed her back to her own place: But I was always better than you, you know.

“Has he even called you back?” Constantine asked, though it sounded more like a statement. Lizzie visibly stiffened. A dark and cold satisfaction filled her at the visible reaction. “He hasn’t, has he?”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, but she couldn’t say another word.

“Did you think,” Constantine tilted her head, “That by going through me, you could actually reach him somewhat?”

“It’s not like that—!”

“Or maybe you thought he’ll answer if it's me who will reach out to him? After all,” Constantine took one step closer, making Lizzie take a small step back. “He did follow me back after I left that day.” Leaving you alone. It was not spoken, but the words were definitely heard between the two of them.

Lizzie’s rage was more visible now. “He fell for me, even when he has you.”

“But he hasn’t chosen you. Not really.” Constantine stood tall, looking at the face of the person she once thought of as her closest friend. 

“Connie–”

Connie. Hearing that nickname made Constantine feel like she’s back in her childhood, running across the street and getting ice cream all over her dress as her best friend laughed with pistachio ice cream all over her mouth.

Even after all the betrayal, remembering those childhood moments still hurts her the most. 

“Leave, Elizabeth. I can’t do anything for you.”

Lizzie looked as if she wanted to say more, but decided against it. She gave Constantine a hateful look before storming off, heels clicking hard on the pavement. 

The sky ahead was getting dangerously dark.

“Connie? Honey?” Constantine turned to her mother, who looked even more worried and concerned. “What is really going on?”

Constantine swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s. . . a long story, Mom.”

The heavy rain fell not long after, like a somber background music as they talked. Her mother cooked her favorite comfort food, asking her to stay the night rather than drive through the weather. As Constantine took a bite, her mind couldn’t help but be reminded of a bubbly cafe owner proudly telling her of her cooking skills.

“I’ve cleaned your room when you told me you were getting back early from your trip, just in case,” her mother told her. “I guess my mother’s instinct was still spot on.” Her voice was soft despite her joking words, her brows slightly furrowed as she looked at her daughter. Constantine decided not to point it out and just thanked her.

Her room looked exactly the same as the day she left. The stuffed toys she once collected were placed neatly by the head of the bed, and her old desk still faced the window, with her old lamp decorated with cute stickers. She took a seat on her chair, feeling the familiar grooves of the table. She then opened one of the drawers absently, where a purple-colored envelope made from crafting paper was shoved to the back. 

Constantine took the envelope, eyeing the small doodled heart on its front. She opened it and pulled a note, her fingers tracing the old letters written.

\ Saw you by the cafeteria this lunch. You looked really good today.

She pulled a few more papers.

\ Hey, wanna partner up for the science project?

\ I noticed you cut your hair today in class. It really suits you.

\ Would you be my date for prom next week?

Back then, these notes were some of Constantine’s prized possessions, each one causing butterflies in her stomach and making her squeal in excitement. Now, the words felt almost mocking, the warmth she once thought was hidden behind these words missing, unlike the words her Great Aunt Marta shared with Benedict. The thought that maybe she had been wasting her years all this time just made it even more depressing.

Tears started falling down her face, unable to stop, but this time, she didn’t have the energy to stop them. Outside, thunder rumbled as lightning flashed through the dark, swallowing any sound.

So she let herself cry, cry like she wanted to but couldn’t bring herself to do. She went and curled up on her old bed, hugging herself and letting her voice be covered by the heavy rain. She soon lulled herself to sleep through exhaustion, but even after having no energy left, she felt like she could start breathing properly again.

Outside, the rain has also started to weaken.