Day 6: The Harvest Festival

Dear Diary,

Today was the long-awaited harvest festival, a day of celebration and joy that filled our village with music, laughter, and the sweet scent of flowers. From dawn till dusk, everyone in Tañong Bayan worked together to prepare for the festivities. We decorated the streets with colorful banners and lanterns, set up stalls selling delicious food and handmade crafts, and rehearsed traditional dances and songs.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the terraces, the festival officially began. The air was filled with the sound of drums and flutes, and people of all ages gathered in the central square to dance and sing. It was a sight to behold, a whirlwind of movement and color that filled my heart with joy.

I danced with Lito under the twinkling stars, his hand warm in mine as we moved to the rhythm of the music. There was a magic in the air, a sense of possibility and hope that filled me with courage. And when the dance ended, I knew it was time to tell Lito how I felt.

I led him away from the crowd, to a secluded spot where we could talk in private. My heart was pounding in my chest as I took a deep breath and confessed my feelings to him. I poured out my heart, telling him how much he meant to me and how I couldn't imagine my life without him.

But his response was not what I expected. He listened quietly, his expression unreadable, before finally speaking.

"Lia, I… I'm happy," he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "But I can't promise you anything. I'm leaving for the capital tomorrow, and I don't know what the future holds."

His words hit me like a blow to the chest, leaving me feeling hollow and empty. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized what he was saying—that he couldn't be with me, not now, not when his path lay elsewhere.

I cried, and Lito held me close, his arms a comforting embrace in the darkness. We stayed like that for a long time, lost in our own thoughts and feelings, until exhaustion finally claimed me and I fell asleep in his arms.

When I woke up this morning, Lito was gone. The sun was already high in the sky, casting a harsh light over the village. And beside me, on the pillow, lay a letter. I picked it up with trembling hands, my heart pounding in my chest as I read the words written inside.

"If you still love me when I return, I'll accept your confession," the letter said, in Lito's familiar handwriting.

My heart dropped as I realized what had happened—I had missed Lito's departure, missed my chance to say goodbye. And now, all I have is this letter, this faint glimmer of hope in the darkness.

As I write this entry, tears stream down my cheeks, my heart heavy with sorrow and regret. I don't know what the future holds, whether Lito will return or if he'll forget about me altogether. But one thing is certain—I'll hold onto his words, his promise, and wait for the day when he comes back to me.

Until then, I'll cherish the memories we shared, the moments of laughter and love that will sustain me in his absence.

Until then, I'll wait.

Until then, I'll love.

Forever yours,

Lia