Chapter Text
The house had already quieted when Ayee stepped out onto the balcony.
The city below flickered softly in scattered lights, distant and indifferent, as if it had nothing to do with the weight sitting quietly in her chest.
She held a cup of tea between her hands, though she wasn’t really drinking it anymore. The warmth had faded slightly, but she didn’t mind.
Sleep wasn’t coming again.
A soft voice broke through the silence behind her.
“Ang lalim ha.”
Ayee turned her head slightly.
Keyo was leaning by the balcony door, hair slightly messy, eyes still heavy with sleep like she had only intended to check on something before going back to bed.
“I thought you were asleep,” Ayee said softly.
“I was,” Keyo replied.
She walked over and sat beside her without hesitation, like the space had always belonged to her.
“Bakit hindi ka pa natutulog?”
“Can’t sleep,” Ayee said simply.
Keyo frowned. “Sumasakit na naman ba ulo mo?”
“No,” Ayee shook her head. “I’m fine, Key. Just thinking.”
Keyo nodded once, still watching her. “Care to share?”
Ayee didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed on the city, on the quiet movement of lights far below, before she finally spoke.
Ayee stared out at the city lights for a while before speaking.
“I remembered a story,” she said quietly.
Keyo glanced at her. “A story at this hour?”
A small smile tugged at Ayee’s lips. “Humor me.”
Keyo sighed dramatically but shifted more comfortably into her chair. “Alright. Let me hear it.”
For a moment, only the distant sounds of the city filled the space between them.
Then Ayee began.
“There was a garden once. A beautiful one.”
Keyo raised an eyebrow. “That’s very specific.”
“I told you to humor me.”
That earned a small laugh.
“Fine. Continue.”
Ayee looked back at the city.
“The garden wasn’t empty. A long time ago, a yellow butterfly used to visit it every day until it lived there.”
“Yellow?”
“Yellow.”
“Okay.”
Ayee smiled softly.
“The yellow butterfly loved the garden. The garden loved it too. It wasn’t like just another butterfly passing through. It lived there. It learned every flower, every tree, every hidden corner of the garden. And the garden learned it too.”
She paused.
The city stretched endlessly before them.
“The garden got used to seeing yellow wings everywhere. It became part of its mornings. Part of its afternoons. Part of its life.”
For a moment, Ayee fell quiet.
“Then one day, the yellow butterfly left.”
The smile faded from her face.
Keyo frowned.
“Just like that?”
“Not exactly.”
Ayee shook her head.
“It wasn’t sudden. The butterfly stayed less and less. Some days it wouldn’t come home until late. Other days it wouldn’t come at all.”
A pause.
“And then eventually… it stopped returning.”
Silence settled between them.
“The garden waited.”
A faint smile touched Ayee’s lips.
“At first it thought the butterfly would come back tomorrow.”
Keyo remained quiet.
Her gaze lowered to the tea in her hands.
“Then next week.”
Another pause.
“Then next season.”
The smile disappeared.
Neither of them spoke.
“And even though the garden kept blooming, kept growing, kept doing everything gardens are supposed to do… there was always a space that remained empty.”
Ayee’s fingers tightened around her cup.
“The garden never stopped looking.”
“Even after years?” Keyo asked.
Ayee nodded.
“Even after years.”
Silence settled briefly between them.
“That’s a sad garden,” Keyo said.
“Yeah.”
Ayee continued.
“One day, a blue butterfly arrived.”
“A blue butterfly?”
“Mm.”
“Did it choose the garden?”
Ayee shook her head.
“No. It was placed there.”
Something about that answer made Keyo unusually quiet.
“The garden welcomed it anyway. It gave it space. Shelter. Flowers to land on.”
“And the blue butterfly stayed?”
“It did.”
A pause.
The city lights flickered below them.
“The blue butterfly learned every corner of the garden. Which flowers opened first in the morning. Which paths caught sunlight in the afternoon. Which places became quiet after rain.”
Ayee smiled faintly.
“And slowly… it started loving the garden.”
Keyo’s gaze shifted toward her.
“But?”
Ayee laughed softly.
“You always know when there’s a but.”
“Because there’s always a but.”
“Fair.”
Ayee looked down at her tea.
“The blue butterfly eventually noticed something.”
“What?”
“The garden was still waiting.”
Silence.
Ayee continued.
“Not loudly. Not every day.”
Her voice softened.
“But sometimes, when the wind changed direction… the garden would still look toward the horizon.”
Keyo didn’t say anything.
“And whenever yellow wings appeared in the distance—even if they belonged to another butterfly entirely—the garden would look up first.”
The silence stretched longer this time.
“The blue butterfly knew what that meant.”
Ayee’s gaze remained fixed on the city.
“The garden had never stopped hoping.”
Keyo swallowed.
“What happened then?”
Ayee smiled sadly.
“Eventually, the yellow butterfly came back.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
“The garden must’ve been happy.”
“It was.”
Ayee’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“The happiest it had been in a very long time.”
The wind drifted through the balcony.
“And the blue butterfly?”
Ayee stared into the darkness ahead.
“The blue butterfly saw it.”
A pause.
“It saw the way the garden bloomed.”
Another pause.
“The way it came alive.”
Keyo’s chest tightened unexpectedly.
“And that’s when the blue butterfly finally understood.”
Silence.
“It was never competing with the yellow butterfly.”
Ayee smiled faintly.
“Because the garden had never truly stopped waiting for it in the first place.”
The city seemed quieter now.
“So what did the blue butterfly do?”
Ayee took a slow breath.
“It left.”
Keyo frowned.
“Just like that?”
“Not immediately.”
A small smile appeared on Ayee’s face.
“It stayed a little longer.”
“Why?”
“To make sure the yellow butterfly was really back.”
Silence.
“And when it was?”
Ayee looked up at the night sky.
“It thanked the garden for letting it stay.”
Her voice softened.
“For the flowers.”
A pause.
“For the warmth.”
Another pause.
“For giving it a place to belong, even if only for a while.”
The wind brushed past them again.
“And then it left.”
Neither of them spoke.
Finally, Keyo leaned back against her chair.
“That’s a sad ending.”
Ayee smiled.
“Maybe.”
Keyo looked at her.
Keyo frowned slightly.
“But didn’t it want to stay?”
Ayee laughed softly.
“Maybe it did.”
A long pause followed.
“Maybe it wanted to stay more than anything.”
Her eyes remained fixed on the city.
“But sometimes loving a garden means knowing when it no longer needs you to fill the space someone else left behind.”
The silence afterward felt different somehow.
Heavier.
They stayed like that for a while, sitting side by side, the balcony slowly growing colder around them.
Ayee shifted slightly.
Then she yawned.
Soft.
Unintentional.
Keyo noticed immediately.
Her voice softened.
“Antok ka na.”
Ayee blinked, a little slow now. “Hindi pa.”
Keyo gave her a look. “You’re thinking too much, Ayee. Hindi maganda para sa’yo ‘yan.”
Ayee tried to sit straighter, as if that would convince anyone.
It didn’t.
A small silence passed.
Then Keyo stood up first, pushing herself gently to her feet.
“Tara,” she said quietly. “Let’s sleep na.”
Ayee looked up at her.
Still sitting.
Still a little tired.
Keyo extended her hand.
No insistence.
Just there.
Waiting.
Ayee stared at it for a moment longer than usual.
Then she took it.
Warm.
Familiar.
And Keyo helped her up like
it was the simplest thing in the world.