I am Lyka, a simple girl who grew up in a family that seemed to have favoritism. In fact, when I was just a child, I immediately felt that my mother loved my sister Anika more.
Anika is the “beautiful,” “smart,” and “loving” one — according to Mama. Me? It always seems like “it’s okay.”
But I didn't hold a grudge. I just kept quiet, studied hard, and dreamed of a simple, happy life. It was during my job as a barista that I met Miguel.
Quiet, gentlemanly, and sweet. I thought he was my “safe place.” So when he asked me to marry him, I didn't hesitate.
A few months after we got married, my father passed away. It was only then that I learned that Papa had left me an inheritance—a small house in Baguio. A simple inheritance, but full of memories.
At first, I was happy. But suddenly Miguel changed. He was often absent, with hidden texts, and all sorts of excuses.
Until one day, I found out from my cousin: "Lyka... Miguel and Anika are having an affair."
It was like my world suddenly stopped.
And it didn't end there.
I was surprised when I heard that they got married. Miguel and Anika. And the reason? They said it was to get the entire inheritance, because they thought I had no legal claim.
I left Manila and settled in Baguio—in the house that Papa had left behind. There I began a new chapter in my life. I set up a small coffee and flower shop that I called “Café Lyka.”
There, I wake up every day to the cool breeze, the aroma of coffee, and customers who always have a story to tell.
Little by little, I felt better. There was no more noise, no more pressure, no more pain. Little by little, I learned to forgive myself… and love myself.
Almost a year later, one rainy morning, someone knocked on the shop door. It was Miguel.
Wet from the rain. Pale. Holding a cheap umbrella.
“Lyka… can we talk?”
“Anika?” I asked.
"Go away. Someone else has already left. I'm left... nothing."
I was silent. I stared at him.
“You know, Miguel,” I said, “it’s a good thing you left me. Because otherwise, I wouldn’t have met the stronger Lyka.”
I smiled. “But we're done. I'm happy here. And I love myself.”
He said goodbye quietly. And me? I made some hot coffee, left the shop, and watched the fog on the mountain.
Miguel is gone. The pain is gone too.
But what's left? Peace. And love... for yourself.
