Begin Again

Oom had gone through a lot of heartbreaks over the past two years. In late 2022 to early 2024 , it all started with unrequited love. She fell for someone, but that person never felt the same way. Oom watched from a distance, hoping for something more, but her feelings were never returned. It hurt every day, especially when her gestures and hopes were ignored. The year taught her a hard lesson: sometimes, love doesn't turn out the way you want it to.

It had been a week since Oom had confessed her feelings to May for the second time. The first time had been difficult—she had gently turned her down, explaining that she didn’t feel the same way. But this time, she had give her a chance to prove herself. She wasn’t saying “yes,” but she hadn’t said “no,” either. There was hope in her eyes, a flicker of something Oom could hold onto. 

But then, as the week passed, Oom began to feel a gnawing sense of uncertainty. One evening, while scrolling through social media, he saw something that made his heart drop. May replied to a post of one of her friend (who’s also her friend), regarding with Ai missing her and she feels the same way. 

Ai is not just someone else, It's Oom’s one of her closest friends. 

It wasn’t just friendly; she knows Ai and May is getting invited to their friends’ date, making it a double date—it was clear something was happening. Something that Oom had been blind to. And worst of all, Ai had known about her feelings for May. Her own friend, the one she trusted, was pursuing her right under her nose.

The discomfort simmered in Oom’s chest. She couldn’t stay quiet. She had to confront May, had to say everything she had been holding back. 

When they met, her words came out sharp and unfiltered, a mixture of hurt, frustration, and resignation. 

“I didn’t try hard enough, did I? I kept thinking maybe you’d see me after you gave me a chance, but... I guess it wasn’t enough.” Oom starts.

“And Ai... she’s always been there for you, hasn’t she? It’s like there’s no space for me. It’s like I was always just waiting for something that was never going to come.”

May’s eyes were wide, but there was a sadness in them, as though she already knew where this was going. She opened her mouth to say something, but Oom wasn’t done. 

“And it’s not your fault,” She continued, her voice breaking slightly. “I get it now. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... Ai, she makes me uncomfortable. The way she’s always around you, how she’s always by your side. It’s like I’m invisible. And you didn’t say anything about it. You didn’t even tell her to back off. You didn’t say anything to me either, like you didn’t even know I was hurting.” Her words hung heavy in the air, a painful honesty spilling out.

She took a shaky breath. “So, tell me—do you feel the same way for her? Just tell me the truth.”

May’s face softened. She looked down for a moment, gathering her thoughts. When she finally looked up, there was no hiding the honesty in her eyes. “I’m still figuring it out, Oom,” she said quietly. “I’m still finding out how I feel about her.”

Oom felt her heart shatter all over again. That was it. That was the truth. There was no place for her in her heart, and now there was someone else, someone who had been there all along. She nodded, a bitter smile on her face, as the weight of it all sank in.

“I understand. That's all I've been seeking.” Oom arrange herself, wiping the tears building up in her eyes and she smiled. “I'll be going now. Thank you for your time.”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but the words never came. May never responded, and Oom turned away, feeling the full impact of the pain settle in.

The hardest part wasn’t just the goodbye. It wasn’t the rejection. It was the silence that followed. 

May’s painful messages—full of regret, full of apology—came through after she left. But Oom didn’t read them. She couldn’t. 

It wasn’t just her. It was everyone else. Her friends knew about her feelings for May, yet none of them had said a word. 

Why hadn’t they said anything? The betrayal stung deeper than any romantic rejection could. They were supposed to be her friends, yet they had watched her hurt in silence. 

In the end, Oom made a decision. She cut them all off. Blocked them, ignored their calls, and distanced herself from those who knew her best. She couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Ai’s face, of hearing their voices, knowing that they had stood by and let this happen. They knew how much she cared for May, yet they said nothing.

From that moment on, Oom was alone. She knew it wasn’t healthy, but she couldn’t bring herself to forgive them. The pain of losing May was one thing, but losing her friends—the people she had trusted—was a hurt that cut deeper than any love could.

And so, she walked away from it all. From May. From Ai. From everyone who had ever known the truth of her heart. She left behind the pieces of herself that had once been open and hopeful, and as she moved forward, she knew she would never go back to that place again.

—

It was mid-2024 when Oom’s heart found itself caught in a delicate, unfamiliar dance again. This time, it wasn’t a rush of passion, but a soft, slow pull, one that she hadn't expected to feel. It all started casually, a simple hangout between her and Jan at a café, the kind of meet-up where laughter filled the air and time seemed to slip by unnoticed. Jan had invited a friend, Pim, because they had errands to run afterward. It was just supposed to be a casual thing.

But then there was Pim, sitting across from her, and there was something about her—something that tugged at Oom in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t instant attraction, but rather a quiet pull, a connection forming through shared glances, small moments of understanding that seemed to weave themselves between their words. They talked, they laughed, and before long, Oom realized she was looking forward to seeing Pim again.

As days turned into weeks, that simple hangout turned into more. They began to talk more, share more, and little by little, they became close. Pim’s presence became something Oom could count on, and soon enough, she couldn’t deny it: she was beginning to care for her. 

Then one evening, Pim, with a soft look in her eyes, confessed. It was quiet but clear, and Oom, in that moment, felt the weight of something heavy in the air. But she didn’t give an answer right away. She couldn’t. The feelings were there, yes, but were they real? Was it infatuation, or was it something more, something deeper that was quietly blooming inside her? She needed time. She needed space to figure out if what she felt was genuine, or just the remnants of old emotions lingering from past heartbreaks.

A month passed, and in that time, Oom spent countless moments reflecting, questioning, and feeling. She realized that this wasn’t just a fleeting thing. What she felt for Pim was not a passing attraction—it was something solid, something that made her heart race in the quietest of moments. And that’s when she knew.

One evening, when the air between them was warm and full of unspoken words, Oom looked into Pim’s eyes and finally answered. “I like you too,” she said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I really do.”

And just like that, something beautiful began to take shape. They became lovers, but not just in the way people think of it. They became each other’s safe space, the ones they could rely on when everything else in life felt uncertain. Oom had found her answer, and in doing so, had found a love that had quietly grown in the spaces between words, in the moments they shared, and in the hearts that had finally recognized one another.

The evening of September 16th marked the start of something Oom couldn’t explain, something that left her heart heavy, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it at the time. It had started like any other day—Pim and Oom were talking, sharing small moments of laughter and words that flowed effortlessly between them. But then, as the evening unfolded, a strange shift happened. The messages stopped coming from Pim. Oom thought nothing of it at first, assuming maybe Pim was busy, but as the hours stretched on, something began to gnaw at her. A quiet feeling of uncertainty crept in. It was almost as if an invisible wall had been placed between them.

For Oom, the timing felt impossible. The pressure from schoolwork was suffocating, and the weight of family obligations was starting to break her down. It felt like the world was pulling her in too many directions, and she could feel herself burning out, drained in a way she hadn't felt before. As much as she knew she needed Pim’s presence, she didn’t want to burden her. The thought of reaching out, of continuing the conversation, felt too complicated. There was a strange silence hanging between them, one that Oom couldn’t explain but could feel deeply in her chest.

The next morning, the unease hadn’t gone away. In fact, it had intensified. Oom walked into school and saw Pim, but neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with the kind of distance that felt almost suffocating. Oom’s mind raced. Had she done something wrong? Had the silence from the night before meant something she hadn’t understood?

The last subject of the day came and went, but Oom’s mind never stopped running. As soon as the bell rang, she packed her things and left, her heart weighed down with confusion. At home, she couldn’t shake the feeling of something unresolved, something lost. Lowering her pride, she sat down and wrote a letter to Pim, trying to put into words the things she couldn’t say in person.

“I’m sorry,” she wrote. “I’ve been distant, I know. I’ve been burning out from school and family stuff, and I didn’t mean to act like I didn’t care. But it’s like everything shifted so suddenly, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I was scared, maybe. I didn’t want to make things worse by bothering you when I felt so lost.”

She sent it, hoping that Pim would understand, hoping that things could go back to the way they were. But the hours passed, and no response came.

And that’s when it hit her—the cold, sharp realization that Pim had ghosted her. The silence wasn’t just confusion or a delay; it was the absence of care. The distance between them wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, a boundary that had been set without explanation, and Oom was left alone in the aftermath. The ghost of their connection, once so warm, was now gone, and Oom felt the sting of it deeply, as if everything she had once felt for Pim had evaporated into thin air.

Days passed, and the silence between Oom and Pim became a constant ache in Oom's chest. She couldn’t escape it—everywhere she went, it followed her. It clung to her like a shadow. She finally gathered the courage to talk to her friends about it, but the words felt heavy in her mouth. They listened, their faces filled with sympathy, but nothing could take away the pain she was feeling. Pim was gone. The space they once shared was now an empty void, and Oom couldn’t understand why.

Her friends tried to comfort her, but their words of reassurance felt hollow. "You should focus on yourself, Oom." But the more they spoke, the more Oom felt like an outsider in her own life. She couldn't focus on their comforting words, not when her heart kept aching with the question of why. Why had Pim vanished?

With the upcoming exams looming over her, Oom found herself trapped in a whirlwind of emotions. She couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t bring herself to review. Her mind kept drifting back to Pim, wondering if something had gone wrong, if something she hadn’t said or done had pushed Pim away. She felt as though every ounce of her energy was being consumed by the ghost of their past connection. 

Every night, Oom cried alone in her room, letting the tears flow as quietly as her heart ached. And sometimes, when she couldn’t hold it in anymore, she cried in front of her friends. They would hold her, offering kind words, but Oom couldn’t shake the overwhelming emptiness. She wanted Pim to come back, wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could go back to how they were. 

But with every message she sent, she felt more and more like she was talking to a wall. She typed out her thoughts, her feelings, pouring her heart into every word. "I miss you. Please come back," she would write. "I don’t know what happened, but I need you." But no matter how many times she hit send, the silence remained. Pim didn’t respond. It was like Oom was speaking to herself, the words floating out into a void, unanswered.

The realization hit her harder with each passing day: Pim didn’t care anymore. Pim had moved on, and Oom was left alone, clinging to a memory that no longer existed. The conversation, the connection they once had—it was just that now: a memory, fading away.

The last day of exams finally came, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Oom could breathe. The pressure had lifted, and she found herself surrounded by her friends, all of them ready to celebrate the end of the grueling study sessions and sleepless nights. They went out to eat, laughing and chatting, but even amidst the relief and joy, Oom couldn’t fully shake the weight of what had been happening between her and Pim.

As the meal came to an end, her friends continued to talk and joke around, but Oom, with a quiet heaviness in her chest, pulled out her phone. She unlocked it and opened the note app. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a long moment. She had been avoiding this for so long, but deep down, she knew she had to face it, one last time.

Her heart pounded as she scrolled through their old messages, the conversations that once felt so alive now just an empty exchange, a digital ghost of what had been. She could still hear Pim’s voice in the back of her mind, feel the warmth of the connection they’d shared. But now? Now, all she had were the empty bubbles on her phone screen, and the quiet ache of knowing that Pim wasn’t there anymore.

Oom started to type, her fingers trembling as she wrote.

"I know you probably won’t see this, and I don’t know if you even care anymore, but I need to say it. I miss you. I miss everything we were, everything we could have been. I thought I was okay, that I could handle this, but it’s hard. It’s so hard to let go of something I thought was real. I don’t know where things went wrong, but I just want you to know that I thought we had something. I thought you cared."

Each sentence felt like a weight being added to her chest, and as she continued, her eyes filled with tears. She could feel the finality of it, the heartbreak that was wrapped in the words she was typing. It was as if she were tearing herself apart, letting go of a part of her heart she wasn’t ready to lose.

"I don't expect you to reply. I know that’s probably asking for too much, but I needed you to know. I don’t know what happened to us, but I’ve spent too long wondering.”

Her fingers hovered over the "send" button for a long time, every part of her wanting to hold onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, Pim would reply, would come back. But deep down, she knew. The chances were low. She had already been ghosted for too long.

Finally, with a quiet, broken exhale, Oom hit "send."

The message disappeared into the ether, joining all the others that had gone unanswered, but this time, something shifted inside Oom. It was over. She couldn’t keep holding on. She couldn’t keep waiting for someone who had already chosen to leave her behind.

And just like that, Oom knew it was time to move forward. The end had come—not with a bang, but with a quiet finality that she couldn’t ignore. She put her phone away, the last bit of her heart, the last bit of her hope, slipping quietly away as she sat surrounded by friends who, in their own way, were helping her heal—one step at a time.

The evening passed in a blur, and Oom tried her best to focus on the laughter of her friends, the chatter surrounding her. But her mind kept racing. Then, out of nowhere, her phone buzzed—a message from Pim. Oom’s heart nearly stopped. The screen displayed Pim’s name, and the sudden rush of emotions flooded her chest like a tidal wave. Her hands shook as she picked up the phone. 

Her breath caught in her throat. The message was right there. Pim had replied.

For a moment, Oom couldn't breathe. She felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest, the shock of it all making it hard for her to process. She texted her friends, her fingers unable to type coherently as she tried to make sense of the overwhelming rush of emotions. "Pim replied" she wrote, though the words felt too heavy to truly convey what was happening inside her. Her friends' messages came in quickly, a stream of excitement and confusion, but Oom could hardly focus. 

Her mind was reeling. After so many unanswered messages, after all the silence, here it was—a response. 

But then, she hesitated. She couldn’t bring herself to open it immediately. The weight of it felt too much. Her mind was swirling with questions. What would Pim say? What did she mean? The doubts that had lingered all these days now came crashing in, making it even harder to face the truth. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Oom clicked on Pim’s inbox. 

The first few lines of Pim’s message hit her like a punch to the gut.

"I don’t know how to explain this," Pim wrote. "But I’ve been thinking about us, about everything, and I came to a conclusion. I think something was wrong between us, and I just couldn’t put my finger on it. It’s not that I don’t care, or that I wasn’t genuine. I was. I thought you were someone I could be with. But over time, I just... I didn’t feel right. I don’t know why. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I can’t keep pretending that everything was okay when I knew something was off.”

Each sentence pierced Oom deeper than the last. Pim’s words, though honest, felt like a betrayal. To hear that something that Oom had believed was real was now reduced to a mistake, to something wrong, was more painful than she ever imagined. Pim’s admission—the way she claimed that everything felt off—shattered Oom’s perception of what they had shared. She had never seen it coming. 

"I’m sorry," Pim continued. "I wish I could explain why things felt like this. But all I can say is that I’ve been struggling with it for a while. You were amazing, and I don’t want you to think that this means you weren’t. But I just… I need to be honest with myself."

The finality of it felt suffocating. Oom couldn’t read the message any longer, couldn’t bear to go back to the words that had just torn her heart open again. The past months—the moments they’d shared, the quiet affection, the deep connection—felt like they were slipping through her fingers. Was I just a mistake to her? Oom thought bitterly. Was everything we shared meaningless?

She sat there, staring at the screen, the words blurring through her tears. The pain that had already been so deep was now cut open again, raw and exposed. She thought she had let go, thought that the silence from Pim had given her the closure she needed. But this—it wasn’t closure. It was something else. It was worse. It was like she had been living in a lie, believing in something that wasn’t truly there.

Oom’s chest tightened as the weight of the message settled in. The reality of it was too much. Pim’s words only made her doubt everything she had felt for the past months. She wasn’t enough. She had tried so hard, so desperately, to hold onto something that, in the end, wasn’t meant to be.

Tears ran down her face as she let the message sink in, the pain cutting through her in waves. Pim’s honesty had destroyed what little hope was left, and Oom was left alone, trying to make sense of a love that never really was.

—

2022-2024 had proven to be a year of relentless heartbreaks for Oom. Not only had she faced the crushing pain of losing May and Pim, but another deep, unexpected wound had formed. She’d also gone through a friendship breakup, a loss that, in its own way, felt just as sharp as any romantic heartbreak.

This friendship had been a pillar for Oom—one of the few things she could always count on. They had shared memories, laughter, and tears together, moments that were meant to last. But somewhere along the way, things began to shift. Misunderstandings piled up, small things were left unspoken, and what had once been a bond of trust and comfort began to fray at the edges. 

At first, Oom tried to ignore the growing distance. She convinced herself it was just a rough patch, that things would get better with time. But as days turned into weeks, she started to realize that the effort wasn’t coming from both sides. Conversations became strained, and the little things—the jokes, the late-night talks—stopped happening. One day, it all came to a head. There was no dramatic confrontation, no clear-cut fight. It just... ended. Quietly, painfully, like a thread snapping without warning.

Oom didn’t understand why it happened. She had always been there, always tried her best. The thought that someone she had trusted, someone she had confided in, could walk away so easily shattered her. The silence that followed was deafening. Just like with Pim, the unanswered messages, the moments left unsaid, weighed heavily on Oom’s heart. 

In the span of just a few months, Oom found herself at the mercy of heartbreak after heartbreak. She felt as though the foundation beneath her was crumbling, as though everything she once believed in—relationships, friendships, even herself—was slipping away.

Each loss left her feeling more fragile, like a vase that had been shattered too many times, only to be hastily glued back together, but never quite the same. Her heart ached, her mind raced, and she found herself questioning everything she had known to be true about love, trust, and connection.

Each years had shown Oom just how easily things could break—how people could drift apart, how feelings could fade, how nothing was permanent. The weight of it all felt unbearable, like she was constantly losing pieces of herself. She couldn’t escape the deep feeling of abandonment, not just from the people she loved, but also from parts of herself she had lost along the way.

But even in her brokenness, Oom knew she had to keep going. She had to learn to pick up the pieces, even if they didn’t fit perfectly anymore. Because, as hard as it was to admit, she had to find a way to rebuild from everything that had torn her apart. The pain was real, but so was her strength.

—

After the chaos of heartbreaks, Oom slowly began to find her footing again. The journey of healing wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t easy, but with time, she started to move forward. She surrounded herself with the warmth of her friends and family, rediscovering the beauty in simple moments with them. Weekend road trips with friends became a new form of therapy, a way to escape the weight of everything that had hurt her. Sometimes, it was just her, driving aimlessly, letting the open road remind her that there was still so much ahead. 

She started learning to enjoy her own company, allowing herself to find peace in solitude. Little by little, the love she once poured into others began to turn inward. She began to understand that self-love wasn’t just about embracing the good parts of herself—it was about accepting the broken parts, too. The pieces of her heart that had been shattered didn’t define her, but they had taught her resilience, patience, and the importance of nurturing her own well-being.

Her studies became a focus, a way to channel her energy into something that was hers. It was hard at times, balancing everything, but the drive to better herself and the support from those around her kept her grounded. Her family, who had always been there, became her constant source of love and encouragement. Their presence reminded her that no matter what she had lost, she still had people who cared deeply about her.

Along the way, she discovered new passions. Books became her sanctuary, each page a new escape from the noise of the world. She devoured stories, not just as a distraction, but as a way to connect with different lives, different perspectives. Movies, too, became a place of comfort, a medium that allowed her to experience emotions and worlds she never thought she could understand. 

But it wasn’t just new things that Oom revisited—it was old loves, too. She returned to painting, something she hadn’t touched in months. Art had always been her first love, the one thing that allowed her to express herself without words. Yet, with her busy schedule, she had neglected it, focusing on everything else that demanded her attention. But now, with more space in her heart, she picked up the brush again, feeling the familiar joy of creation. Still, she had to accept that life was no longer as leisurely as it once had been. Time for painting was fleeting, but when she did, it was like finding a piece of herself again.

The Christmas break became a turning point for Oom. It wasn’t just about the celebration, but the pause. The time away from school, the time with family and friends—it gave her the space to truly reflect on what she had learned over the past year. It taught her to stop running from the things she had once avoided—whether it was her emotions, her hobbies, or even the moments of stillness. She began to explore new things, things she had dismissed before, like journaling or trying out new recipes, rediscovering the beauty of small pleasures.

Oom realized that there was more to life than surviving through heartbreaks and the pressures of daily life. She had the power to choose what made her happy, what filled her soul. The love she had once given away so freely could now be directed back at herself. Slowly, but surely, she was learning to embrace that love, to cherish the person she was becoming—not defined by the past, but empowered by it.

She wasn’t perfect, and she wasn’t healed in a single moment. But with every road trip, every new book, every brushstroke on a canvas, Oom found pieces of herself again. And in that, she learned the most important lesson of all: healing wasn’t about fixing what was broken, but about embracing the whole of who she was—past wounds, present joy, and all.

As the hours of the year slipped away, Oom felt a quiet sense of anticipation building inside her. The chaos of the past year had finally given way to a moment of peace, and with New Year's Eve upon her, she was ready to embrace the fresh start. This year had been difficult, filled with heartbreaks and lessons learned, but now, as the countdown to midnight began, she felt hopeful.

She planned to spend the final moments of the year with her family, with strangers, watching the fireworks light up the sky. It was something simple, but it felt perfect. With them by her side, she knew it was the right way to ring in the new year. The thought of seeing the colorful explosions against the night sky, marking the end of one chapter and the beginning of another, brought a sense of calm to her heart. 

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, Oom stood with her family, surrounded by laughter and warmth. The air was filled with excitement, but for her, it was also a moment of reflection—thinking about how far she had come and how much more there was to discover. When the clock finally struck 12, the sky above erupted into a burst of light. The fireworks danced and shimmered, and for the first time in a long while, Oom felt a sense of peace. 

“Happy New Year!” 

2024 year had been hard, but it had also taught her so much. She was ready to face the next one with hope, courage, and a heart that was slowly, but surely, learning to heal.

As the fireworks faded and the crowd slowly began to disperse, Oom turned to join her family, ready to continue celebrating the new year together. The streets were filled with the buzz of people heading home, laughter and chatter still hanging in the air. It was the perfect night, yet there was a quiet stillness that lingered as the crowd thinned.

Just as she was about to catch up with her family, someone caught her attention. A stranger, standing a few steps away, smiled warmly and greeted her with a cheerful, “Happy New Year!”

Oom paused for a moment, surprised by the sudden interaction. She met the stranger’s eyes, and something in the simplicity of their greeting, the genuine kindness in their voice, caught her off guard. For a brief second, she felt a spark of something unfamiliar, a feeling of being completely seen without any pressure, a quiet connection in the midst of the chaos.

She was mesmerized. 

It wasn’t the loud, overwhelming kind of attention that had once felt exciting. No, this was different. There was something about the stranger's presence—calm, sincere—that stood out. The world around her seemed to fade into the background, and for a moment, everything felt still. 

With a soft smile, Oom returned the greeting, “Happy New Year.” Her heart fluttered, uncertain of what to make of it. 

The stranger nodded, “I'm Saeb.”

She offers her hand..? Oom thought. 

But she accepted it. “Oom.”

“I hope you have a happy new year. I'll be going now.”

Before Saeb turned to leave, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. She handed it to Oom with a gentle smile, her eyes meeting Oom’s for a brief moment. 

“Here,” Saeb said softly, her voice calm but carrying a quiet warmth. “I hope this will make your year a little brighter. Take care, Oom.”

Oom, still taken by the unexpected encounter, took the paper in her hand, her fingers brushing against Saeb’s for a second. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a small ripple through her chest. 

Without another word, Saeb turned and walked away, disappearing into the thinning crowd. Oom stood there for a moment, watching her leave, unsure of what had just happened. The night felt a little different now—like something new had just begun.

She unfolded the paper carefully, wondering what it could possibly contain. As she read the simple message written on it, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips:

“You're charming. Angels are looking after you, they must be proud for guarding you. Happy New Year, gorgeous.”

The words felt like a gentle reassurance, as if Saeb had seen something in Oom that she herself hadn’t noticed. It was a message that made her heart feel lighter, like a weight had been lifted, even if just for a moment. 

Oom folded the paper back up and tucked it into her pocket, a quiet sense of gratitude settling within her. It was a strange, beautiful encounter, and as she walked back to her family, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the new year was bringing more surprises—ones she hadn’t even dreamed of yet.

Wednesday was the start of 2025, and it was the ideal year to begin again after all the break, burn, and end. It's a moment to let go of things that no longer serve us, to welcome hope, to discover our own freedom, and to have faith that even in the most dire circumstances, a pleasant thing can bloom.