It has been years since my days at Saint Joseph Institute of technology, but whenever I think of those years, one face returns more clearly than all the rest: Jade.
He was the brightest among us, a debater whose words carried like thunder, sharp and impossible to ignore. When Jade joined the College Debating Team, the school's name began appearing on championship banners, and his medals gleamed like proof of his brilliance. People spoke his name with admiration. To me, however, admiration was never enough.
I never confessed it then, but my feelings for him ran deeper. I wanted to be near him, to know him beyond the confidence he carried on stage. But instead of reaching out, I remained in the background—watching from doorways, listening from corners, silently collecting moments I could never claim.
Jade was a man of principle, and he often spoke as though he lived above the foolishness of the heart.
“Love,” he once told us, “does nothing but ruin futures. It brings more sorrow than joy.”
I remember the certainty in his voice that day. I believed he meant it, and for a time I thought nothing could break through the walls he had built. Then came Jared.
I introduced them without a thought of consequence.
It was during the school’s foundation anniversary, a day filled with music, the smell of roasted corn from food stalls, and laughter that drifted across the campus. Jade had just won another Best Debater medal when I congratulated him.
“Thanks, Jay,” he said with a faint smile. Then he noticed the boy beside me.
“This is Jared,” I explained. “My classmate from Maritime. He wants to join the team.”
Jade gave him a polite nod and started to excuse himself, but Jared, with that fearless charm of his, asked, “Mind if we join you?”
Jade hesitated only a moment before answering with a smirk. “As long as you pay for your own food.”
That small exchange became the beginning of everything.
I remember sitting with them at a crowded food stall, steam rising from bowls of noodles, as Jared spoke easily about his classes and his admiration for the team. I watched Jade soften, his careful smile shifting into something genuine. It was a side of him I had never seen before.
From that day on, Jade was different. I noticed him lingering outside the Maritime lobby, waiting longer at the canteen, laughing more freely. Against all his principles, against all the walls he had built, he was falling.
And then came that evening on the rooftop of the Maritime building. The sun was setting over the horizon, painting the sea in fire and gold. I didn’t mean to follow them, but something in me needed to know.
I remember Jared’s voice first, gentle in the gathering dusk. “You’ve been so quiet lately. What’s wrong?”
Jade said nothing at first, his back turned. Jared tried again, half-joking. “Did some girl break your heart?”
When Jade turned, his eyes were wet. And for the first time, the man who had faced countless opponents without faltering could not hold back his tears.
“I don’t understand what I feel,” he said finally, his voice low, trembling. “I don’t even know if it’s right. But after tonight… nothing will be the same. And I’ve decided to take the risk.”
He drew a breath and added, “I love you.”
I remember the silence that followed. The world seemed to stop as Jared stepped forward, his hand trembling as he touched Jade’s lips.
“Don’t wish you hadn’t met me,” he whispered, his own eyes shining. “Meeting you has been the happiest part of my life here. And yes… I like you too.”
Then came the kiss—brief, unsteady, but real.
Afterward, Jared’s tears fell as he confessed what neither of them could change. “At the end of this semester, I have to go back to Marawi. My parents have arranged my marriage to Kristel, my childhood friend. I don’t want it, but I can’t fight them. I can’t fight fate.”
Jade pulled him close, whispering only, “Thank you.”
He told me later he wished he had a Polaroid camera that night, so he could capture the moment and live inside it forever. But time, as always, moved on.
I have carried that memory with me all these years. People say debaters thrive on arguments, that victory is everything. But I know better now. Jade taught me that in love, there is no rebuttal.
And me? I was only the witness. I never found the courage to speak my own truth. I loved him quietly, from a distance, and in silence I stayed.
Looking back now, I sometimes wonder what might have been if I had taken the risk he did. But the years have taught me that not all loves are meant to be lived out loud. Some exist only in memory—bittersweet, untouchable, and eternal.
Jade was my teammate, my friend, and my almost. And though time has carried us far apart, he remains the debate I never won, the story I keep close to my heart.
Read more...
