Red on th 20th
Not this coming Saturday, but the next—on the 20th—something awaited her. To others, it was just a party, a concert socialization with her PE classmates. But to her, it felt heavier, almost like a turning point. The theme was “martini outfit”—sleek, bold, daring. The kind of theme that promised a night where masks could be shed, where emotions could slip free in the dark glow of music and lights.
She carried with her a love that had already died, though her heart hadn’t yet caught up. She loved him, that much was true, but they could never be. Deep down, she had always known it. He was already in love—with someone else. Someone who, by a twist of fate, had once been her enemy and was now her friend. Together, the two of them seemed perfect, almost untouchable in their harmony. And she, watching from the edges, could only wrestle with the ache of knowing she was never part of that picture.
For too long, she had given herself to a dream. Too loyal. Too blind. What she once thought of as devotion now revealed itself as foolishness. Even his face, once so adored, now sickened her. Why had she fallen for someone so unworthy? There had never been a spark between them, no magnetic pull, not even a fragile thread of connection. He ignored her, dismissed her, never once allowing closeness. She had written letters once—pages heavy with unsaid words. But she never delivered them. She only crushed them in her hands, the way she wished she could crush the feelings themselves.
And yet, change was stirring. She could sense it. The night was coming, and with it, something new. She worried over her outfit, feeling bloated, feeling unsure. But she knew red would embrace her—red would compliment her skin, her body, her fire. That night, she would make red her shield, her declaration.
He wasn’t worth it. Not anymore. Perhaps she had been delusional once, but not now. Not today. Not tomorrow. Everything in her life was waiting to shift, and she was ready to step into it.
At KCC Mall, with Daniel by her side, she would enter the music, the lights, the laughter. Not for him. Not for anyone else. But for herself. She would stop apologizing. Stop shrinking. Stop pretending.
She would be free.
And deep within her, a quiet certainty whispered: tomorrow was another day, another chance to change her perspective. It wasn’t too late.
