The End of Us: Mike & Gypsy

"Don’t do this to me, Gypsy. What have I done wrong?" Mike’s voice trembled with desperation, his words cutting through the air like a dagger. His pain was palpable, a raw, unspoken plea that shook her to her core. But as she looked at him—hurt, vulnerable, and broken—her heart twisted with a mix of frustration and pity.

Deep down, she knew what they had shared; there was a history between them, moments of laughter and connection that no one could ever take away. She could feel that he truly loved her, and yet, she didn’t feel the same way. What was once affection had turned into an empty space, a quiet void that swallowed every emotion she tried to muster.

It was time. Time to let him go.

"Stop torturing yourself, Mike. You haven’t done anything wrong," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. "This is my decision. Please… just let me go."

Her heart ached as she said the words. She wasn’t a monster. She wasn’t heartless. But breaking up with Mike without a clear reason gnawed at her, eating away at her sense of self. Could she justify it? Could she really tell him the truth? That the passion had long faded, that the love she once felt had slipped through her fingers like sand? That Mike had simply become… boring? Uninspiring? That everything about him—the way he spoke, the way he looked at her—had become a tiring routine she could no longer endure? Or was it just the only way she could let him see that she was over them, over him?

She didn’t know.

But what she did know was that she couldn’t tear him apart with the brutal honesty he probably deserved. She wasn’t cruel enough to scream at him, to lay bare the truth that might crush him beyond repair. So, she chose this—this silent, painful exit. The same way she had ended things with others in her past. Clueless, without closure.

"Then… if I haven’t done anything wrong… why are you leaving me?" Mike's voice cracked, a broken whisper. "I love you, Gyps."

He reached for her, his arms open, desperate to hold on, to keep her from slipping away. But her hands moved swiftly, pushing him back. His arms fell to his sides as he staggered a step backward, confusion and hurt written all over his face.

“Mike, I’m sorry. But I don’t love you anymore.”

The words felt like a blade in her chest. They stung, but they had to be said. His eyes filled with tears—tears that weren’t supposed to belong to a man like him. His strong exterior shattered, revealing the raw, unhealed vulnerability inside. He cried. And all she could do was watch, powerless, as his pain unfolded before her. There was nothing she could say to stop it, nothing she could do to take it away.

She couldn’t bear to stand there, watching him break in front of her, knowing that she was the cause. Knowing that she was the one who had let it all die. Her heart broke for him, for what she was doing to him, but there was no going back.

And as he cried, she could do nothing but turn away, leaving him to hurt, to scream, to feel the weight of their ending. Because in the end, this was the only way.

She saw the hurt in his eyes, and yet, she didn’t feel a single ounce of pain or regret about their breakup. Was she numb, unable to feel the weight of what she had just done? Or was it simply because, deep down, she had never truly loved him?

Was she a terrible person for convincing him that she loved him, when she never did? For pretending that she felt something for him, only to discard him when she grew tired of the act? And now, when the inevitable happened, when the truth came crashing down, all she could say was that she “fell out of love,” when in reality, she had never been in love to begin with.

Mike, heartbroken and devastated, started to punch and kick the wall. His pain was raw, uncontrollable. And she just stood there, silent, allowing him to vent. His rage, his grief—it was all a reflection of the love she had faked. But even though he was breaking, she wouldn’t stop him. She wouldn’t stop him from grieving the death of their relationship, because it wasn’t hers to save anymore.

She turned away. She would leave him alone to mourn the connection that had once been, but now was gone. She wouldn't stay to watch him release his anger, his frustration. She couldn’t risk feeling the slightest hint of guilt, or worse, pity. That would be the very thing that would drag her back to him. She couldn’t let herself go there.

With every step she took away from him, there was no sense of regret. No second-guessing. No desire to turn back. She was resolute. She had made her choice.

But somewhere deep inside, a twinge of conscience began to stir. Mike had been serious about her. He had loved her deeply, with all his heart. And yet, she had played him with her false affection. That thought gnawed at her, but she pushed it away. In her mind, she had done the right thing. Mike deserved better than her. Much better.

The news of their breakup spread like wildfire. "BREAKING NEWS: Gypsy and Mike Call It Quits." It wasn’t surprising to anyone who knew their story. After all, it had happened before. Every time, it was the same.

Most of the people who knew them, the ones who had watched their relationship unfold from the sidelines, celebrated. For them, it meant one thing: Gypsy was back on the market. They could try their luck with her now, and poor Mike… well, he was just another casualty in the game of love.

"Congrats, Gyps! You’re single again," Rona greeted her with a false cheer, a grin plastered on her face. One of the fake friends she had kept around—one of the sycophants who only ever cared about who was popular, who was available.

Rona's voice dripped with insincerity.

"You must be so happy, huh? Party time! Stop pretending you don’t care. I know you liked Mike. You were just pretending all along."

Rona, like so many others, had been infatuated with Mike. She had cried when Gypsy and Mike first got together. But now, with the breakup, it was her chance to make a move. It was all a game to her, another opportunity to play with someone else’s heart.

Gypsy didn’t respond to her. She just let the words wash over her like the empty noise they were. She knew Rona’s type all too well. She had learned long ago not to let people like her get to her. Let them talk. Let them play their games. In the end, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

"Really, Gyps, truly your mouth is  no filter at all!" Rona retorted, her tone dripping with arrogance.

"I’m definitely going to party. Watch and learn, Mike and I will be together after a week." She flashed a smug smirk, clearly proud of herself.

Gypsy silently hoped that Rona's words would come true. She just wished, for Rona’s sake, that her fantasy would become a reality, so she could at least chase the dream she had long held—winning Mike’s heart for herself.

"Wow, you're really into him, huh? But be careful, you don’t want to end up looking like a rebound, or worse, like the trash-picker of my old love," Gypsy shot back, raising an eyebrow. She wasn’t about to let Rona live in a delusion. She needed to face reality, even if it stung.

But Rona, unfazed, just grinned wider. "It’s not a big deal that Mike was your leftovers. He’s still a big catch for me. Want to know why?" Rona leaned in a little closer, her voice dripping with pride. "Because I love him."

Gypsy didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for her. Did she not realize how desperate and foolish she looked, clinging to the love of someone who had never cared for her the way she wanted him to? She had been foolish once too, but this? This was on another level.

She didn’t want to listen anymore. The desperation in Rona’s voice was making her uncomfortable, and she feared she might catch some of that madness if she stuck around too long.

"I got to go, Ron," Gypsy said, her voice firm as she stood up to leave. She could already feel the weight of the conversation pressing on her, and she needed to get out before it started to suffocate her.

"What? That was quick," Rona complained, her voice fake with disappointment. "I still wanted to chat with you about Mike—what he likes, what he dislikes, since you were together. I know you know a lot."

Gypsy couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, her eyes rolling in disbelief. So now she was supposed to be Rona's personal G****e, the walking encyclopedia of Mike’s life? "Are you serious?" she said, half-amused, half-annoyed. "Just because I’m his ex doesn’t mean I’m the source of all his secrets. Maybe try asking him yourself."

But Rona was undeterred, oblivious to the way she was coming off. It didn’t matter to her that Mike had once been Gypsy’s, that the love she had was now a memory. All that mattered to her was what she wanted, and in that moment, that was all that mattered to her.

Gypsy stepped away, already tired of this whole scene, feeling like she was leaving behind more than just the conversation. She was leaving behind a world of delusion, a world where people like Rona would keep chasing after things they could never have.

"I'm avoiding you because I don’t want to catch your craziness when it comes to love," Gypsy said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "By the way, I’ll send Mike’s info to your email. I’ll make sure it’s detailed."

She didn’t mind helping Rona. After all, she was over Mike now. Maybe they really were meant for each other after all.

Rona snapped back, "You can call me crazy because I loved someone who wanted someone else and kept hoping, chasing after him even when I looked like a fool. You wouldn’t understand, Gyps, because you’ve never experienced true love. To you, everything’s just a game. But one day, you’ll find someone who will match you."

Rona walked out before Gypsy could say anything, leaving her to absorb the harsh words. Tsk. As if she were afraid. Maybe one day she would find her match, but that didn’t mean she was going to let herself become a fool or lose her sanity like Rona had.

"Oh, and thanks in advance for the info, Gyps. I’ll be looking forward to it," Rona called back as she left.

Gypsy continued typing on her laptop, gathering all the details about Mike’s likes and dislikes to send to Rona. She had agreed to help, even if she didn’t fully understand why.

"Wow, look at you, busy bee. What’s this?" her best friend, Melissa, asked as she walked in.

"Mike's info. I’m sending it to Rona," Gypsy replied curtly.

"Why are you sending Mike’s info to Rona?" Melissa asked, clearly confused.

"You know that witch is head over heels for Mike. She’s desperate to get noticed. She asked for a favor, and as a concerned citizen, I’m helping her out. It would be cruel not to." Gypsy continued typing, detailing everything she knew about Mike, making sure to include all the little things.

Melissa sat down next to her, reading over what Gypsy had written.

"Clap! Clap. Are you serious, Gyps? You’re known for breaking hearts, and now you’re playing Cupid for Rona and your ex?" Melissa shook her head, completely shocked. "Are you out of your mind?"

Gypsy rolled her eyes. Melissa was overreacting, as usual. "Mel, you’re the one who’s out of your mind. You’re overthinking this. It’s not what you think."

"It’s not what I think?" Melissa scoffed, her eyes wide in disbelief. "You’re planning to bring Rona and Mike together by giving her all this information about him. That way, she’ll know exactly what to do to get Mike to notice her. And we both know Rona will do everything  to make it happen. Even if she knows she has no chance with him, she’ll still pursue him, no matter what."

Gypsy stayed silent for a moment, letting Melissa’s words sink in. Maybe she was right—Rona was relentless. And maybe, just maybe, she was helping fuel that obsession. But was it really that bad? Should she be doing this?

Melissa did have a point with what she was saying, but Gypsy didn't care anymore. The only thing on her mind was sending Mike's information to Rona.

She ignored Melissa and focused on opening her G***l to send the email. Once it was sent, she closed her laptop and set it aside.

Just as she thought everything was settled, Melissa’s phone suddenly rang. Melissa immediately stood up to answer the call. It must have been important because Gypsy noticed the sudden shift in her expression when she saw who was calling.

Gypsy chose to ignore it. She was used to this. She was pretty sure it was her boyfriend calling.

"Gyps," Melissa suddenly called out, her arms wrapping around her in a tight hug. She was crying uncontrollably, and Gypsy had no idea what had happened. She had just answered the call, and now she was in tears.

"What happened?" Gypsy asked, but Melissa didn’t answer. She just kept crying. The hug was so tight it almost made it hard for Gypsy to breathe.

Gypsy gently pried Melissa's arms off her and sat her down beside her. Melissa continued to sob, and Gypsy couldn’t help but feel pity for her best friend.

"Tell me, what really happened?" Gypsy asked, her voice full of concern.

But it was as if Melissa didn’t hear her. Maybe the pain was just too much for her to talk about right now. Gypsy didn’t mind—she would give her space to share when she was ready.

"Mels, answer me. What’s the problem!?" Gypsy raised her voice, frustration building inside her.

Her best friend had been so secretive lately. She wasn’t opening up to her like she used to when she was going through something. Gypsy couldn’t take it anymore. She had always been there for Melissa, but now it felt like Melissa was shutting her out, and it hurt.

"Tristan is cheating on me," Melissa murmured weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

This was exactly what Gypsy had feared. Once again, Melissa was going through the same heartbreak because of Tristan. Gypsy was already mentally preparing herself to record all the comforting words and advice she had given over the years—just so that the next time this happened, she wouldn’t have to repeat herself. She could just play it back, save herself the trouble. It was exhausting, really. But no matter how repetitive the situation was, Melissa was still her best friend, and she understood that her pain was real.

Gypsy felt a slight irritation bubbling inside her, but she also felt an overwhelming wave of empathy. She couldn’t help but understand her best friend’s pain, even if she was tired of watching her go through it again and again.

She had told Melissa so many times to leave him, to walk away from someone who was clearly not good for her. But Melissa never listened, and it broke Gypsy’s heart every time.

She couldn’t deny that she was hurt too. She had been through the same thing when Kevin, her ex before Mike, cheated on her—even though she didn’t love him the way Melissa loved Tristan. But to see Melissa go through this, to know how deeply she felt for Tristan, it cut her even more. The pain of being cheated on, of having someone you trusted betray you, was a wound that never fully healed.

Gypsy drove Melissa home, making sure to stay by her side and ensure that she got home safely. She couldn’t leave her like this, not in this state of emotional turmoil. It was clear that Melissa wasn’t herself, and Gypsy wasn’t going to let her face the world alone, especially not when she was broken and vulnerable.

It had been two weeks since Gypsy had been single, but she still hadn’t found a replacement. She wasn’t used to being without a relationship, and it felt strange. Who wouldn’t miss having someone to treat you, to pick you up and drop you off at school or your other errands? Even though she had money and her own car, it just wasn’t the same.

There were guys flirting with her, trying to win her over, but now, she had become pickier. None of them even came close to being her "boyfriend of the week."

Then, she felt a spark of excitement when Melissa told her that her brother, Jed Ichari, had returned to the Philippines. He was a childhood friend and crush of Gypsy’s. However, when she found out he was going to be a doctor, she felt a bit discouraged. It wasn’t that she had anything against doctors—actually, it was her dream to be one someday. But her heart was set on an engineer. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t fall for anyone who wasn’t one.

Melissa invited her to attend the welcome party for Jed, which would be held at the Ichari’s ancestral home. Gypsy hesitated, but when Melissa said she wouldn’t go unless she came along, she agreed.

Melissa picked her up around 3 PM, even though the party wasn’t until 7 PM.

"Hey, isn’t it way too early to be going to the party?" Gypsy commented as she got in the car.

Melissa just shrugged her off.

"Did I say we’re going straight to the party?" she replied.

"Well, where else are we going? That was the plan, right?" Gypsy asked, confused.

Melissa raised an eyebrow. "Gyps, just reminding you, we’re going to a party. So, we should probably get ready, especially you, since you're single. You need to look good."

Gypsy wasn’t sure what was going through Melissa’s mind.

"I don’t need to get all dolled up. It’s just a welcome party for your brother," Gypsy replied dismissively.

Melissa raised an eyebrow again. "Don’t downplay my brother’s welcome party. Besh, his guests aren’t just any ordinary people. We’re talking about young bachelors, okay? Spell it with me—Y-O-U-N-G B-A-C-H-E-L-O-R-S. You might meet someone there."

Gypsy laughed. "So what if they’re young bachelors? For sure, there’s no engineer there. It’s probably all doctors. What else would you expect from a doctor’s circle of friends? That’s not my type."

"Even if they’re young bachelors, if they’re not engineers, no thanks," Gypsy said firmly.

"I know you think it’s all doctors attending, but you’re wrong. You’ll meet successful engineers like Clarence Tecson and Trent Ragoza there," Melissa said, trying to convince her. It was a somewhat effective argument.

"I don’t know them. But really? They’re engineers?" Gypsy’s eyes widened with surprise. "OMG, Besh, I need a makeover!"

Her excitement was evident now. Even though she wasn’t sure about the party or the guys Melissa had mentioned, the idea of meeting successful engineers was enough to get her hopes up.