The Ember and The Queen

Solene's POV

After hours of crying, she finally managed to sleep.

I heard her breathing shift—deeper, heavier, like her body had finally given up the fight she refused to surrender to all day.

Mom tucked her in, as usual.

If there's one person who's been silently standing guard on the sidelines of Rain's life—whether her decisions were right, wrong, reckless, or brave—it was Mom.

Their bond had only grown stronger, even with an ocean in between. From the moment Rain stepped foot in Germany to be near Kai, to dropping out of NYU just weeks before her acceptance, to almost missing her major exams in New York because she flew in from Spain just to attend Kai's oath-taking in Berlin—Mom was there. She was the one comforting her through every breakdown. The one who never judged, only listened. Only held her.

You know, Rain used to be top of the class back in high school. Everyone looked up to her—Mayor's daughter, the golden girl, the queen of straight A's.

But somewhere along the way, she lost herself. In the process of loving Kai, she disappeared into the shadows of someone else's light.

And the worst part? Kai doesn't even know.

Doesn't know how Rain followed her from continent to continent like a quiet ghost, cheering silently at every win, mourning every loss from the back row, never once asking for a seat beside her.

I know all this because I was there—across oceans, through Facetime, in every drunken rant and tearful midnight call.

I listened when Rain said she couldn't breathe in New York. That she felt dead inside, walking hospital halls and pretending she was okay. I was there when she finally whispered, "Solene, hindi ko kaya. I need to see her, even if she doesn't see me."

So she left.

Dropped out.

Moved to Berlin.

She told no one, except me and Mom. Tita Celeste? She found out eventually. And when she did, she cut Rain off—just like that. No more money. No more support. Not even a call on her birthday.

It was brutal.

Ate Riley tried to help—sent a few euros here and there when she could—but it was barely enough to cover rent.

Rain worked café jobs, language tutoring, even folded flyers on street corners when no one was hiring. For two years.

And still, not once did she complain. Because being near Kai—even from a distance—was worth the hell.

To be honest? I admired her.

But somewhere along the way, I started to hate it too.

Hate how she relentlessly loved someone who had no idea how much she gave up. How much she suffered just to be near.

I hated it because she made herself small for someone who once held her like she was the world.

She loved Kai in silence.

And that silence devoured her.

Even when Rain finally decided to become the daughter they wanted her to be—it shattered her.

The pressure, the guilt, the grief of giving up the life she wanted just to make peace with the one expected of her—it all crushed her slowly, like waves over a drowning girl.

But even then, she never gave up on Kai.

She clawed her way back up—worked her ass off, every day, every sleepless night, just to catch up with med school. While everyone else partied, Rain studied with feverish determination. Not because she wanted the title. But because she wanted to deserve the life she left behind. To someday look Kai in the eyes and say: I made it too.