CHAPTER 1: Brokenhearted

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-=Yesha's Point of View=-


"Are you breaking up with me?" I questioned.

After hearing what Brix had to say, my voice began to tremble.

His exact words were cool off, which is a gentler way of saying that we should break up, split, or do anything else people use when they don't want to be with their partner.

After our conversation, he just left me here in this park alone, crying my heart out.

I didn't care about the sympathy and curious looks I was getting from those around me; they could gossip about my misery all they wanted!

Why should I care what they think or say when there is so much sorrow in my heart?

To be honest, I was expecting this breakup for a long time, and I know why Brix decided to end things with me: I couldn't surrender myself to him.

I can't bring myself to agree to have sex with him. I'm not sure why I can't give myself to him or any of my previous boyfriends.

I was anticipating him leaving me after being in a relationship for a long time, and I still couldn't find the determination to agree to his demand.

Still, I was hoping that he would be different from the other guys, but I guess I was wrong.

I'm not sure how long I remained in that park, lamenting over my separation from Brix, but after calming down, I decided to leave and go straight home; there was nothing I could do; Brix wasn't going to come back and repent for what he just said.

When I got home, I tried to focus on other things so I wouldn't think about Brix, but no matter what I did, I found myself spacing out and thinking about my failed relationship.

At this point, we've been dating for over a year. We were set to celebrate our first anniversary as a couple in June, but he dumped me just weeks before it was meant to happen.

"God! HELP! I don't know what I should do." I cried in a loud voice.

"Shut your pie hole!" Someone yelled from the first floor of our house.

Oh, that is my mom, by the way.

By the way, my name is Ayesha Santillan, but my friends and colleagues call me Yesha.

I am half-Filipina, half-British, and 22 years old, so I appear slightly different from a typical Filipina.

I have brown hair that is an inch longer than my shoulders and hazel brown eyes with long eyelashes, which some say are my most attractive feature. I have a straight nose, which gives me the appearance of being snobbish, and kissable red lips that don't need lipstick.

I'm 5'7 tall, and people kept telling me that I could be a model or a beauty queen if I wanted to, but that's not how I roll.

I'm merely a simple, innocent girl from the Philippines who dislikes being in the spotlight.

Forget about my father if you're going to ask of me; I haven't seen or heard from him.

The bastard, according to my mother, quickly returned to his country after getting my mom pregnant, neglecting all his responsibilities.

The jerk abandoned his child in the care of a poor and helpless woman, allowing her to endure the full weight of the responsibilities that both of them should be carrying.

Fortunately, my mother is a fighter and was able to raise me on her own.

I'm still a virgin at 22 years old, having been in four... no, five failed relationships since Brix broke up with me for the same reason.

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