The sky is awake. The stars are shining. 

I stopped midway through my walk and slowly looked up at the heavens, taking in the sight. The night stretched endlessly above me, painted in deep indigo hues, scattered with glimmering stars that seemed to pulse with quiet life. For a moment, the world fell silent—the distant hum of cars softened, the city's neon glow blurred at the edges of my vision, and all that remained was the vast, glittering sky. 

I gently closed my eyes and let the cold wind embrace me, tousling my slightly messy red hair. It danced across my skin, carrying with it the faint scents of asphalt, rain-soaked pavement, and late-night takeout. 

My grip tightened around the plastic bag in my left hand as I felt it slipping, bringing me back to my senses—yet I found myself unwilling to let go of the fleeting serenity.

How long has it been since I stopped like this? Since I let myself breathe?

Life had been a whirlwind of rushing deadlines, fleeting conversations, and nights blurred by exhaustion. Years had passed, and fatigue had almost become a permanent part of my life. Yet here I was—alone on a quiet street, beneath a sky that seemed too beautiful for a world that often felt too heavy.

I let out a slow breath, a soft smile forming on my lips. Maybe... just a few more seconds.

My gaze remained fixed on the sky, the stars shimmering like scattered fragments of forgotten dreams. As I stared, a familiar thought crept in—the vastness of the cosmos. It stretched infinitely above me, a boundless canvas that made the weight of everyday worries feel insignificant. How small we truly are beneath this immeasurable expanse.

Where does the universe end? Does it even have a limit?

The horizon dissolved into darkness, offering no answers—only the humbling reminder of how little I knew. Hundreds—no, billions—of galaxies swirled across space, each holding countless stars, planets, and mysteries beyond human comprehension.

Memories of articles I had read in various books and journals surfaced in my mind—studies conducted by experts analyzing the universe's models. Some claimed the universe spanned around seven billion light-years across—a distance too vast for my mind to fully grasp. Others argued it was infinite, stretching beyond any imaginable boundary.

But... is that all there is?

The question lingered, echoing in the quiet night. I wasn't sure if I was searching for the universe's edge or something closer—some hidden truth, some meaning tucked away in the folds of space and time. Maybe everyone looks up at the stars hoping for answers, or maybe we just like to pretend the universe sees us back.

"The sky is so vast, isn't it?"

I straightened at the sound of a voice beside me, my heart pounding from the sudden presence. But my initial shock quickly faded when I turned and saw an old woman standing right next to me.

"As vast as the sky is, so is the world," she continued. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to respond or if it was okay to remain silent.

"But tell me, dear, do you believe in parallel worlds?"

Her question caught me off guard. Did I? I think I did.

"Yes, ever since I was a child, I've believed in them," I answered with a nod, noticing the gentle smile that appeared on her face.

"What if they're real?"

I didn't know why she was asking me this, but the idea of a parallel world—of countless versions of ourselves living out endless possibilities—had always fascinated me. It's a popular theme in science fiction, woven into books and movies, feeding our curiosity about "what ifs." And somehow, deep down, part of me believed it could be real.

What if there truly are other versions of me out there? Ones who made different choices? Lived different lives?

The thought should have been unsettling, yet it... excited me. Imagining that somewhere—maybe in another reality—I took paths I never dared to walk here. Maybe there's a version of me who never hesitated, never second-guessed. Or maybe there's one who never stopped to look at the stars, too caught up in a life far different from this.

"Then that would be better, wouldn't it? At least some versions of me have lives different from mine," I said. After all, there was nothing wrong with believing.

Holding onto something unknown—something unprovable—might seem foolish to some. But is it really that bad? Sometimes, believing in the extraordinary makes the ordinary a little easier to bear.

I let out a soft chuckle, shaking my head at my wandering thoughts. Maybe I was just overthinking again. Or maybe... I just liked believing there was more to this world than what meets the eye.

"But what if it's not? What if their lives are worse?"

This time, the old woman finally looked straight at me. I had no answer. No words came to mind to counter what she had just said.

It was in that moment I realized that the world is full of unanswered mysteries. Perhaps it has always been that way—woven into the fabric of our existence. Certain enigmas remain unresolved, questions left hanging in the vast silence of time. People vanish, objects are lost, and after years—or even decades—they're simply declared gone… deceased, missing, perished.

But sometimes... I wonder.

What if they didn't just disappear?

What if they slipped into a place beyond our understanding—a world hidden between the cracks of our own? A parallel world, perhaps. One that mirrors this reality but differs in ways we can't begin to fathom.

And if such a world exists...

I let the thought linger, my heart tightening.

I hope my other self is doing well. That somewhere out there—in some other version of existence—I didn't lose him. That my brother is still beside me in that life, and we're navigating whatever that world throws at us together.

"We can never be certain about the things we believe in, and that's okay. The night is getting deeper; you should start heading home."

The strange old woman smiled at me before walking away. I didn't dwell too much on her words and instead took one last glance at the sky.

The stars above twinkled silently, offering no answers—only the quiet comfort of possibility.

As I was about to walk again, something brushed against my foot—light, carried by the wind. Instinctively, my gaze followed it downward.

And there it was.

A familiar flyer, edges worn and corners curled, stared back at me from the pavement.

His face—the one etched into my memories.

My chest tightened. Why now? Why here?

The wind tugged at the paper again, as if urging me to pick it up. But all I could do was stand there, heart pounding, caught between the past and the present.

Years had passed, and I still didn't know what else I could do to find him.

One night, he vanished—like smoke dissolving into the darkness. No warning. No sound. Just gone.

I still can't explain what happened.

We had been admiring the blood moon together, lying side by side on the mat he had laid out behind our house. The night air was cool, the world bathed in the eerie crimson glow of the lunar eclipse. We talked, we laughed... we were fine.

And then—

He disappeared.

It happened so fast—faster than a blink. One moment, he was right there, close enough that our shoulders brushed. The next... emptiness.

I was left frozen, eyes wide, lungs refusing to work.

For a heartbeat, my vision dimmed—like something unseen passed between me and the world—and then a fierce gust of wind slammed into me, cold and jarring.

I looked around, frantic, calling his name, but the night only answered with silence.

No struggle. No trace. Nothing.

If it weren't for the emptiness beside me, I would've convinced myself I had imagined it. But the reality was crueler.

My brother was gone, swallowed by something I couldn't see—couldn't fight.

All I had left from that night were our memories together… and the necklace he left behind.

Our heirloom, he had said. It was Mom's. Delicate yet sturdy, the gold chain held a pendant—a ruby set in a crescent moon-shaped case.

It gleamed under the blood moon that night, catching the light just as he had smiled at me for the last time.

And now... it's all I have left of him.

I can't help but remember the last moments I spent with him. It was raining during that time.

"Brother!" I was crying as I hurriedly entered the house. My eyes and cheeks were soaked with tears. My hands and knees were dirty and bleeding. Scratches and wounds covered my legs, elbows, and palms. My hair was a tangled mess. My uniform was drenched and muddied.

"Brother!" I cried even louder, calling for my brother, not knowing where he was. Soon enough, I heard the sound of hurried footsteps—heavy and urgent—approaching me.

"Baby?" Even before I could see him, I already felt his presence behind me. The moment I turned around and saw him close, I threw my frail, wounded arms around his waist, clinging tightly. I cried harder as I felt his warmth.

Finally, I'm home. I'm safe.

Trevor is here. Trevor will protect me. Trevor will avenge me.

"Brother, it was Tonton and the others! They ganged up on me! T-They threw their toys at me!" I sobbed, hiccupping between words. He gently ran his fingers through my wet hair as he examined the wounds and scratches on my arms with careful eyes.

"Those kids... How dare they hurt my baby? Hush now, sweet cake. Trevor is here. Let's clean your wounds, hmm?" I nodded, still sniffling.

He gently unwrapped my arms from around him and lifted me up, carrying me in his arms. My legs curled against my body as he held me securely. His hand rested against my back, and I laid my head on his shoulder as he walked us to the bathroom.

He placed me on the counter near the sink and carefully washed the dirt and blood from my arms and legs. After that, he grabbed an old towel and dried my hair. Then, he stepped out for a moment and returned with a fresh set of clothes for me. He helped me change out of my wet, muddied uniform.

As he did so, I watched him silently. He was focused, his face serious, yet his hands remained gentle.

Once I was dressed, he lifted me up again, just as he had earlier. Still holding me securely, he reached for our emergency kit before carrying me into our small living room. He sat us down on our worn-out sofa, placing me next to him. He carefully lifted my legs onto his lap as he prepared to tend to my wounds.

I was only twelve years old, but I had a sharp memory. I remembered things quickly, and they never faded.

My brother raised me all by himself. Our parents were gone, and for as long as I could remember, it had always been just the two of us. He was all I had. He became my parent, my protector. He loved me more than anything in this world, doing everything he could just to keep me alive.

Even at a young age, I was fully aware of all the sacrifices he made for me. That was why I loved him more than anything. I could lose everything else—just not him.

Although our age gap was wide, he always made sure I never felt alone.

"What did they do to you, hmm?" His voice was soft as he gently cleaned my wounds.

"They teased me," I murmured. "They said I shouldn't be going to their school because we don't have money. They said I shouldn't even be studying at all. That no one wanted to play with me because... because I don't belong with them. Then they pushed me onto the ground and threw things at me."

I saw him stop for a moment. His jaw tensed as if he was holding something back. But he said nothing. After a few seconds, he continued tending to my wounds while I sniffled quietly.

"Don't listen to them, to those discouraging voices, Prim. They're just kids like you—they don't understand yet that what they're doing is wrong. But that doesn't mean we'll just let it go. I'll talk to their parents so those kids can be disciplined properly. No one should ever make my baby cry."

He paused and turned to me. His deep, ocean-blue eyes met mine as he gently cupped my face, wiping away my tears with his thumb.

"When you grow up, or even when you reach adulthood, I know you'll understand what I mean. Humans are the worst... or maybe there are even worse things out there that we don't know about. But one thing is certain: no matter what form they take, they're all the same. They will try to rip you apart. They will throw stones at you while you're trying to grow. They will try to block your sunlight and cast you into the shadows."

He caressed my hair before taking my arm and continuing to clean the wounds there.

"But the most important thing, Prim, is that you keep going. Prove them wrong. And as long as I am here, I won't let them stand in your way. I will protect you at all costs."

I processed his words in silence, watching as he carefully finished bandaging my wounds.

I can't help but shed tears as I stare at my brother's picture. I remember that moment so vividly—the twelve-year-old girl who depended on her older brother for everything.

I can still see his gentle face, his hands always so careful when he held me, as if he was afraid I would break. He was always there for me.

And now… he's gone. Missing.

Vanished without a trace.

Where is he?

I stood frozen for a few seconds before letting go of the flyer, allowing the wind to carry it away. My hands dropped to my sides as I took a deep, shaky breath.

It's been ten years.

From that twelve-year-old girl, I have grown into a twenty-two-year-old woman. And in those ten years that Kuya has been missing, I have gone through so much—especially in the career I chose.

I chose to become a police officer.

And he is the biggest reason why I took this path.

That night, I failed to find him again. Once more, I was left with nothing to do but look up at the vast sky and wish—pray—that he was alive, that he was safe.

I will never get tired of doing so.

. . .