Chapter 18

Rani’s Point Of View

It’s been a week. Seven endless days since I lost the baby. Since I lost my baby. Mine and Lamia’s baby.

The hospital bed is cold now. Too cold. They already discharged me, but the chill hasn’t left my skin. Or my chest. Or my stomach, where she used to be. Now there’s only an empty silence where life once fluttered.

I haven’t touched the nursery. Nina tries to keep it clean, and Manang Sally lights incense to keep the air soft, as if it helps. But I haven’t stepped inside since. I can’t.

The worst part isn’t the bleeding, the dizziness, the nausea that still comes sometimes, like a cruel joke from my body. No, the worst part is how quiet everything is now.

Peterson’s name hasn’t been said aloud since that night. Babba made sure of that. When he arrived at the hospital and found out… God. I’ve never seen Tito Jazed look like that before. Fury isn’t even the word. It was destruction. He dragged Lamia out of the hallway like she was some criminal and sent her straight back to their family mansion. Banished. That’s what it felt like. He didn’t even let her say goodbye to Faisal.

And Lamia didn’t fight it.

Because she knew.

She knew that this time, she went too far. That no business deal or family name or prestige could fix this. Our baby was gone.

Now, she’s locked away behind estate gates, where she can’t lay eyes on me or our son.

The media’s been having a field day. “Al-Gaddafi Family in Scandal After Alleged Domestic Abuse on Hidalgo Heiress.” “Where is Lamia Al-Gaddafi Now?” “Sources Claim Hidalgo CEO Lost Baby After Violent Altercation Involving Lamia’s Ex.” Headlines. Photos. Speculations. Parasites feeding off my grief.

And me? I’m still here. In the penthouse. With Faisal. And my pain.

Everyone calls me brave.

I’m not.

I’m just breathing. One hour at a time. One board meeting after another. One fake smile, one nod, one signature… before I curl into myself at night, remembering her tiny heartbeat that I never got to meet.

No one knows how much I wanted that baby.

Not even Lamia.

And now, she’ll never know.

——

The penthouse was unusually silent that afternoon. The marble floors echoed with every click of my heels, a rhythmic reminder of how hollow everything had become.

I tossed my bag on the couch and slumped down beside it, fatigue pulling at every bone in my body. I hadn’t eaten all day… again. Elise had offered to bring something after our morning meeting, but I’d waved her off with a glare. I didn’t want food. I didn’t want comfort. I didn’t want anyone.

The remote was on the coffee table, untouched. I didn’t even think. I just reached for it, turned on the massive flat-screen TV mounted on the living room wall, and leaned back like muscle memory had taken over.

And there it was.

“Al-Gadaffi-Hidalgo Scandal Continues to Shake Business and Political Spheres.”

My throat tightened.

The screen split between a clip of me being carried out of the penthouse in bloodied clothes, how the hell did they get that photo, and another shot of Lamia being escorted into a black SUV, her face hidden behind designer sunglasses, her expression unreadable.

The anchor’s voice was sharp, syrupy, like a dagger dipped in honey.

“Speculation continues to rise around the domestic issues between power couple Lamia Al-Gadaffi and Rani Hidalgo. Sources close to the family confirmed the unfortunate loss of their unborn child after an altercation allegedly involving Lamia’s ex-boyfriend, international tycoon Peterson Del Valle.”

My hand curled tightly around the remote.

“Mr. Del Valle has not responded to any media inquiries. Meanwhile, Ms. Al-Gadaffi has reportedly been relocated to her family estate, with Mr. Jazed Al-Gadaffi allegedly furious over the incident. Neither family has made a public statement.”

They cut to footage of Babba arriving at the hospital days ago. That look on his face. I’d never seen him so livid. The camera barely captured the fury in his eyes, the way he barked orders at security, shielding me like I was one of his own.

They played a clip of me from months ago, standing in front of Hidalgo Industries during a press conference. Smiling. Glowing. Alive.

I wasn’t that woman anymore.

The screen then flashed photos of Lamia and Peterson at some event last month. Her hand was near his elbow. His gaze locked on hers. She looked happy.

I pressed mute.

I couldn’t hear anymore.

I stared at the screen as if it would apologize. It didn’t.

I stood up. My knees felt weak, but I walked anyway, slowly toward the huge glass window overlooking BGC. The city sparkled beneath me, unaware of the ache gnawing through my chest.

They could say whatever they wanted. Twist the truth. Paint us however they liked.

But I knew the truth.

Peterson killed my child.

And Lamia let him back into our lives.

I wrapped my arms around myself, holding the space where my baby once lived.

“Someday,” I whispered to no one. “They’ll all know.”

——

Dinner was quiet.

Too quiet.

The sound of silver clinking against porcelain echoed through the cavernous dining area of the penthouse, where the crystal chandelier above me glistened in elegance, but it only made the place feel emptier. The table, long enough to seat ten, now felt absurd with only one plate at its center. Mine.

Manang Sally had prepared everything, as usual. Grilled sea bass. Roasted vegetables. Jasmine rice. It smelled divine. But taste didn’t mean anything when your mouth felt like dust.

I chewed slowly, forcing myself to eat. Elise had texted me earlier to don’t skip meals, so here I was. Pretending to have an appetite. Pretending I was okay. Pretending this wasn’t the only chair that should’ve been filled.

I reached for the glass of cold water and sipped, my other hand unconsciously brushing against my stomach. Still flat. Still empty.

The baby was gone.

Our baby was gone.

The baby I prayed to be a girl was gone.

I didn’t even know what she could have looked like. I had names in my head. A nursery Pinterest board saved in secret. A lullaby humming in my chest. All gone now. Like ash in my palms.

I closed my eyes, exhaling long. There were no footsteps coming from the elevator. No clacking of Louboutin heels down the hall. No storm of perfume and tension. No Lamia.

Of course not.

She was at the Al-Gadaffi estate. Locked down. Banished like a disgraced heiress. Babba made sure of that.

And he hadn’t let her see Faisal either.

I smirked bitterly, stabbing a carrot with the edge of my fork.

Her punishment wasn’t just about what Peterson did to me, it was about the betrayal. About letting him back into her life. About letting him near me.

Babba would destroy anyone who hurt me.

That’s why Lamia was gone.

But still… this house, no matter how pristine, how expensive, how glittering… it felt haunted. I was surrounded by art, glass, fine linen, but it couldn’t protect me from silence.

Or the ache of being alone.

Even if I hated Lamia, even if I couldn’t forgive her right now…

I hated this more.

I had barely pushed away the half-empty plate of untouched dinner when the doorbell chimed.

What now?

Manang Sally peeked her head out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Ako na po, Ma’am Rani,” she offered gently, but I shook my head.

“I got it.”

Dragging my limbs up from the chair, I padded barefoot to the door, exhaustion weighing on my steps like chains. When I opened it, one of the concierge staff from the building stood with an awkward smile on his face, holding a sleek black box of white lilies and blue orchids.

“For Mrs. Rani Hidalgo,” he announced stiffly, as if the tension in the penthouse seeped into his soul.

I blinked. “Who’s it from?”

He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Mrs. Lamia Al-Gadaffi, ma’am.”

My stomach twisted again, not from nausea this time. The kind of twist that coils around your chest, sharp and sudden. I stared at the flowers for a second too long before taking them from his hands with a tight nod.

“Thanks.”

He left in silence. I shut the door quietly and stood in the foyer, still clutching the box like it might explode.

Lilies and orchids. My favorites.

I carried the box to the kitchen counter and opened the small envelope tucked into the ribbon. It was her handwriting. Elegant, sharp.

I don’t deserve a word from you. Not a glance. Not a chance. But if pain is the only thing we still share… let me carry some of it too.

—L

I read it once. Then twice.

My fingers clenched around the note before I placed it carefully beside the vase, swallowing the burn behind my eyes.

Lamia. Always late. Always wrong. Always too proud.

But not tonight.

I stared at the note again.

“If pain is the only thing we still share…”

What a twisted kind of poetry. How fitting for Lamia.

I walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, box of flowers in hand, and leaned against the cold glass. The city below glimmered like a jewel, expensive, indifferent, and oblivious. Just like Lamia.

She had no idea I was carrying our baby. She had no idea she killed it.

No, I corrected myself bitterly, she didn’t push me. Her lover did. But she let him in. She left the door wide open and told me I deserved it with her silence.

My fingers touched my still-flat stomach. No more morning sickness. No more cravings. Just a hollow ache. A silence I couldn’t scream through.

Lamia sent me orchids. How dramatic. How painfully on-brand. And yet… my heart still squeezed at the thought of her writing that note. Alone. Exiled. Punished by her own father. No son to hold. No wife to scream at.

No, Rani, I hissed inwardly. Don’t be weak now.

She let Peterson into our home. She let him crawl back into her arms while I was breaking for us. For Faisal. For a future she didn’t even want.

I had begged the universe for strength. And now the universe had stripped me bare, left me in ruins. And all Lamia could offer was a box of beautiful lies wrapped in petals.

I moved to the living room and set the flowers on the coffee table, where they could sit in judgment of everything we had become.

I should throw them away.

I should burn the note.

But I didn’t.

Because a part of me still wanted her to hurt like I did.

And maybe that was the only part of us left.

——

The morning light hadn’t fully touched the windows of our penthouse yet, but I was already awake. Not that I had slept properly. Sleep had become a fragile, shallow thing lately… brief and full of ghosts.

I slipped out of bed, wrapped my silk robe around my aching body, and padded barefoot to the nursery.

Faisal’s room was calm and quiet, the gentle whir of the white noise machine filling the silence that used to be broken by soft lullabies. I pushed open the door, and there he was, my son, my little warrior, lying in his crib, thumb halfway to his mouth.

When I leaned in, he stirred, blinking sleepily up at me. His eyes, deep, dark, full of trust… met mine, and I felt the crack in my chest widen a little more.

“Hey, baby…” I whispered softly, lifting him from the crib and holding him close. “It’s just us again.”

He nestled against my chest without question, his tiny arms flopping over my collarbone like always. He smelled like milk and morning warmth, and I held onto that smell, breathing it in like it could stitch the broken pieces of me back together.

We sat down on the rocker by the window. The city outside was just starting to breathe. A few cars passed. The sky was gray.

“I wanted to give you a sibling,” I said quietly, my hand resting on my still-flat stomach. “You would’ve been the best kuya, Faisal. You would’ve shared your toys… okay, maybe not at first,” I gave a small laugh, brushing his hair back. “But you would’ve loved them.”

I didn’t even know who they were going to be. My baby. Mine and Lamia’s.

A soft gust of pain passed through my chest. I bit my lip and blinked upward. I had cried enough.

“Lamia’s not here,” I continued, keeping my voice steady even as my throat tightened. “Her father sent her away. She can’t see you. Can’t see me. Not after what happened.”

Faisal cooed softly, eyes heavy again. I rocked us back and forth, one hand on his back, the other still resting on my own belly.

“I don’t know how I’m going to forgive her. Or him. Or any of this.”

I kissed his forehead and closed my eyes.

“I just know I have to be strong. For you. Because you’re all I’ve got now.”

——

The elevator doors opened with a quiet chime, and I stepped into the top floor of my company. Elise stood up from her desk as soon as she saw me.

“Good morning, Ma’am,” she greeted softly, eyes scanning my face carefully.

I nodded once, my heels clicking with each step on the polished marble floor. “Schedule the board meeting for ten. I don’t want anyone late.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Elise answered, quickly tapping her tablet.

I didn’t pause. Not even for coffee. Not even to glance at the sunrise slicing through the skyline of BGC. I moved like a machine, polished, immovable. That’s what they needed to see.

Because if I let one crack show, they’d see everything I was hiding underneath.

I pushed open the doors to my office. My sanctuary. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city like a painting. Cold, gray, and vast. Just like I felt.

I sat down, letting the silence wrap around me for a moment before I opened my drawer and pulled out the thick envelope I had prepared in US few months ago like I knew that this will happen one day.

Inside were the divorce papers.

The signature line still waited for Lamia’s name, one that used to stir something sharp and wild in me. But now?

Now, all I felt was exhaustion.

She didn’t deserve another chance. Not after what happened. Not after Peterson. Not after the baby.

I placed the envelope on the center of my desk like it was a ticking bomb, then picked up my phone and called Elise through the intercom.

“Elise.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Get my lawyer on the line. I want the paperwork finalized.”

There was a pause, hesitant. “Are you sure, Ma’am?”

I stared out the window, jaw tight.

“She made her choice,” I said. “Now I’m making mine.”

And this time, I wasn’t going to lose another part of myself just to keep a lie alive.

By ten o’clock sharp, I walked into the boardroom with a calculated expression. My black structured dress hugged every inch of power I needed to exude, heels clicking against marble with practiced grace. The investors, mostly older men in suits, stood when I entered. They always did.

“Elise,” I said, without looking at her.

“Yes, Ma’am,” she responded from behind, placing down a folder at every seat. “All the financial briefs are in place. I’ve added the projections you asked for.”

I took my seat at the head of the table and offered a razor-thin smile to the room. “Let’s begin.”

The meeting lasted over two hours. They threw numbers, forecasts, projections… but my mind stayed sharp. I cut through weak points like a scalpel through silk. One man questioned the logistics strategy, and I raised a brow so sharp he practically apologized mid-sentence. I didn’t yell. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to.

When you carry power in your name, you don’t shout. You make people lean in.

Still, beneath the pristine armor, something in me pulsed quietly. I thought about the flowers Lamia sent. Useless. Cowardly. An afterthought. She hadn’t even tried to see me.

“Ma’am?” Elise said gently as the meeting ended. The investors began to rise, nodding respectfully, whispering praises.

I turned to Elise. “Yes?”

“Mr. Damian Alonzo sent orchids again this morning. I placed them in your private lounge.”

I didn’t even sigh. “Dispose of them.”

Elise blinked. “Ma’am?”

“I’m not in the mood for men who like chasing what’s inconvenient.”

She gave a quiet nod and followed me back to my office, silent as a shadow.

By three in the afternoon, my back ached, and the nausea began creeping in again… quiet, steady, and hateful. I pressed my fingers against my temple, forcing it down.

There was no room for weakness. Not today. Not ever.

But when Elise knocked again, holding a tablet, I glanced up.

“It’s CNN Philippines po, Ma’am,” she said. “Your stock value went up by four percent after this morning’s briefing. Social media’s calling you the ‘Iron Widow of Empire Tech’.”

I smirked faintly. “Let them. Maybe that’ll keep the vultures from circling.”

But as I turned back to my window, watching the sun begin to set over the BGC skyline, I whispered to myself:

“Let them talk about how strong I am. No one needs to know I’m breaking.”

——

The elevator doors slid open, and the cold air of the penthouse lobby greeted me like an old enemy. My stilettos echoed sharply against the marble floor with every step I took, but my heart was quieter than ever. Numb. My arms were sore from a day of relentless meetings, but it wasn’t the kind of tired sleep could fix.

Today, I left the divorce papers on my office desk. I hadn’t even told Elise. I just sealed the envelope and stared at it for five full minutes. I knew what it meant.

And I also knew tonight wouldn’t be quiet.

As I unlocked the penthouse door and stepped inside, I wasn’t surprised.

Luqman Omar was already there, sitting on the living room couch in his barong, like he came straight from an emergency dinner or something equally traditional. His posture was tense, hands clasped between his knees. Beside him stood Babba. Jazed Al-Gaddafi. Dressed all in black, his eyes steady and unreadable, except for the storm cloud he always carried when things didn’t go his way.

Of course they came.

“Rani,” Luqman said gently, standing up as if that might soften the blow. “We need to talk.”

I didn’t flinch. I slipped off my heels slowly, letting the silence wrap around us before walking over to the minibar. My fingers shook a little as I poured myself a glass of water, but I didn’t let it show. I took a long sip, then another, before turning to them with a flat stare.

“I’m tired,” I said calmly. “Whatever this is, it should’ve been said to Lamia.”

“You’re my daughter too, Rani,” Babba said, stepping forward. That voice, commanding, deeply rooted, the kind that made people stop breathing. “And you’re the mother of my grandson. That gives me the right to ask why you filed for divorce.”

I stared at him. Then I walked to the center of the room, standing beneath the chandelier like some twisted stage light was on me.

“Because your daughter chose someone else,” I said coldly. “Because I lost our child while she was too busy with her ex. Because I deserve peace.”

Luqman stepped closer, his voice softer. Always the diplomat. “Please, Rani. Don’t do this. You know Lamia… she’s a mess right now. Babba already sent her away, you know that. She’s not even allowed to see Faisal.”

My throat tightened. I hated that name. Not my son’s… his. Peterson. That man. That ghost Lamia brought into our lives again and again like she never burned everything the first time.

“She should’ve thought about that before sneaking Peterson into our home,” I hissed, my voice cracking. “Before she let me grieve alone.”

Babba’s jaw clenched. His silence was louder than any yelling.

“I punished her,” he said after a beat. “You know I did. But a divorce? That’s permanent.”

“I want permanent,” I said, lowering my voice. “Because this marriage was never built on love. Just duty. And I’m done suffering quietly for duty.”

Luqman reached for my hand like he always did when he wanted to anchor me. I pulled away.

“Faisal deserves a mother who is not constantly humiliated in her own home,” I said. “I’ll never keep him from Lamia if she wants to be a parent. But I will keep myself away from a life that’s destroying me.”

The silence afterward was thick. Heavy. The kind that lived in the bones.

Babba looked at me, something almost soft flickering in his eyes.

“You’re stronger than any woman I’ve known,” he murmured. “I see that now more than ever. But this… this pain… it’s killing all of us.”

I glanced away. My hand unconsciously brushed against my now-flat stomach.

“Then maybe it’s time you let it die,” I whispered. “Because I already buried enough.”

I ran a trembling hand down my face, trying to steady myself as I leaned against the cold marble kitchen counter. My fingers shook with exhaustion. My legs throbbed from standing in heels all day. But none of that compared to the heaviness in my chest, that raw, unbearable pressure that had lived there since the day I lost our baby.

My baby.

Babba and Luqman stood there in the living room. Two of the most commanding men I’d ever known, men who didn’t ask, didn’t beg, didn’t plead… but tonight, they looked at me with something close to desperation.

And still… I felt nothing but exhaustion. Not pity. Not guilt. Just… bone-deep weariness.

I looked at them, eyes hollow, voice low but steady. “I’m tired.”

Their heads turned to me at once.

“I’m tired of being the only one who tries to make this marriage look decent,” I said, pressing my palm flat on the marble to stop it from shaking. “I’m tired of waking up every day wondering what humiliation I’ll face next. I’m tired of smiling in front of cameras while Lamia parades around with her ex. And most of all…”

My throat clenched.

“I’m tired of pretending I didn’t lose my baby alone while she was out… living like nothing happened.”

I saw Luqman step toward me, his expression pinched with sympathy. “Rani, I know it’s hard…”

“No, you don’t,” I said sharply, cutting him off like a whipcrack. My heart burned with the weight of it. “You have no idea what it’s like to feel a life inside you and then feel it disappear while the mother of your child’s out of the picture… and the other parent is too busy rekindling a fling with her ex to even notice.”

Babba’s jaw tightened. I could see his fists clench at his sides. “Lamia didn’t know you were pregnant…”

I laughed, dry and bitter. “And why is that my responsibility?” I turned to face him fully, eyes burning. “She wouldn’t have cared anyway. She never loved me, Babba. Neither of us did this because we wanted to. You know that. But I stayed. I stayed for Faisal. I endured for this family.”

I looked down at my abdomen, still tender, still empty. “And now I’ve lost more than I can take.”

There was silence… dense and suffocating. I could feel the heaviness of it pressing in from all sides.

“I want peace,” I whispered. “Not revenge. Not more drama. Not another day pretending to be okay. I just want peace.”

Luqman looked broken, like the words had cracked something deep inside him. And Babba… he looked furious. But not at me. Not tonight.

I turned my back to them and reached for the envelope on the counter, the divorce documents, still warm from my grip earlier. I held them close to my chest, pressing them against my heart like a final goodbye.

“Let me go,” I murmured.

And for the first time… Babba didn’t argue. Luqman didn’t speak.

They just stood there, silent, as I grieved something that was never whole to begin with.

I walked slowly toward the floor-to-ceiling glass window of the penthouse, the skyline of BGC stretching endlessly in front of me, glowing like it didn’t know the kind of pain that lived behind glass. The lights shimmered, steady and cold. Untouched. Unbothered. Nothing like me.

I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, not because I was cold, but because it was the only thing that made me feel held these days.

Behind me, I could hear the silence Babba and Luqman left hanging in the air. They were waiting. Waiting for a change of heart. A miracle. Something.

But I had no more miracles left to give.

“You know,” I said, my voice quieter than before. I didn’t turn to them. I kept my eyes on the world outside, wishing I could melt into it. “Before… I used to beg her to stay.”

The words felt strange as they left my mouth, too soft for how long I’d carried them.

“I used to think, ‘No matter how much we hate each other, I won’t let her go.'” I felt my throat tighten, but I kept going. “Because I didn’t want Faisal to grow up in chaos. I told myself I’d take it all, the silence, the disrespect, the humiliation, if it meant he’d grow up seeing a whole family.”

A family.

I finally turned to them, and when our eyes met, I could see something shift in their faces. For the first time, maybe they really saw me, not just Rani Hidalgo, not the diva in red lipstick, not the daughter-in-law who always kept her chin up, but the woman underneath, barely holding herself together.

“But now?” I whispered, and I felt the tears as they slipped down my cheek, uninvited but honest. “Now I think… even a broken family can work. As long as the people in it are honest, kind, and trying.”

I stared right into Babba’s eyes, and I knew he felt it too, the disappointment, the failure, the shame.

“Lamia isn’t trying,” I said, with every piece of truth I had left. “She’s lying. And I’m done.”

Babba’s face hardened, pain and fury swirling just beneath the surface. Luqman dropped his gaze. He couldn’t look at me anymore.

“I’m not the villain here,” I whispered. My voice trembled but didn’t falter. “I’m just the one who stayed too long.”

I walked forward and placed the divorce papers on the glass coffee table between us. I didn’t slam them down. There was no need for theatrics. The sound alone, paper against glass… was enough. It was the sound of something final.

“I want peace,” I said again, softer now. Like it was the only thing I still knew for sure. “Even if it’s broken.”

And then I turned away. I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t wait for their response. I just walked past them, past the ghosts of what could’ve been, and stepped into my room, closing the door behind me with the quietness of someone who no longer needed to scream to be heard.

It wasn’t an ending.

It was the beginning of peace. My peace.

——

The next morning, I was sitting behind my desk, the city waking up beyond the glass windows, when the receptionist walked in carrying four bouquets. My eyes flicked to them, curiosity mixed with that familiar edge of wariness.

“One from Ma’am Lamia,” she said, handing me a bouquet of deep red roses, classic, intense, full of meaning.

Another from Damian, with white orchids, elegant and deliberate.

And then two more, one bursting with bright sunflowers, the other soft pastel lilies, sent by two men who had clearly smelled blood and thought they could stake their claim.

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. Lamia’s flowers were a silent apology, a reminder that she still thought she could fix this. Damian’s felt like a calculated move, trying to keep his foothold.

The others? Opportunists, trying to swoop in while I’m vulnerable.

I glanced down at the messages that came with each bouquet… pleas, promises, flirtations, and I couldn’t help but smirk.

Let them try.

I’m not broken. Not yet. And if they think I’m an easy mark, they clearly don’t know me at all.

I carefully unfolded the delicate cream-colored card tucked inside Lamia’s bouquet. Her handwriting was unmistakable, elegant, flowing, like every word was meant to soothe or maybe persuade.

Rani, I know I’ve hurt you more than anyone ever should. I’m sorry—for everything. For losing us, for what I did, for the pain I caused. I want to fix this, not for us, but for Faisal. Please, when you’re ready, talk to me.

My fingers tightened around the note. Part of me ached, the same old familiar pull stirring somewhere deep inside. But the sharper part, the part that’s been bruised, burned, and battered, was already shutting the door.

I folded the card slowly, carefully placing it back among the roses. I wasn’t ready to talk. Not yet. And maybe… not ever.

I picked up the smaller card tucked inside Damian’s bouquet next. His handwriting was bold, confident, everything Damian was, all the charm wrapped in just a few lines.

Rani, I see the strength in you that no one else dares to acknowledge. Whatever you decide, know that I’m here. Not to complicate things, but to stand by your side when you need it most.

A small, almost bitter smile tugged at my lips. Damian always had that way of making everything sound like a promise and a challenge.

I slipped the card back into the bouquet, feeling the weight of his words press against the fragile walls I’d built around my heart. Not now, Damian. Maybe someday. But not now.

I reached for one of the other cards, unfamiliar handwriting curling elegantly across the paper. The note was polite but persistent:

Ms. Hidalgo, heard about the storm you’re weathering. If you ever want a distraction or someone who truly sees you, I’m just a call away.

I raised an eyebrow, the audacity both amusing and irritating. Another contender in a game I hadn’t agreed to play. My lips curved into a wry smile.

“Not today,” I murmured, setting it aside carefully.

Still, part of me wondered, did they really see me? Or just the rumors swirling around my broken marriage?

I picked up the last card, my fingers brushing over the sleek envelope. This one was different, no flowery script, just bold, straightforward lettering.

Rani, I know what you’re going through. I’m here when you need someone who understands. No games, no drama. Just honesty.

The name was unfamiliar, but the tone hit a chord deep inside me, a quiet promise of something real amid the chaos.

For a moment, I hesitated, then folded the card slowly and slipped it into my bag. Maybe, just maybe, this was the kind of honesty I needed. But not today. Not yet.

I glanced at the three remaining bouquets, the ones from Damian and the two others who were clearly trying to stake their claim in the chaos of my life. Their petals were fresh, the colors bright and loud, but none of it mattered.

Without a second thought, I swept all three into my arms and carried them to the trashcan by the door. One by one, I tossed them in without looking back. No grand gestures, no thanks, just the cold realization that right now, I didn’t want anyone else trying to be my savior.

I stood there a moment, the faint scent of discarded flowers lingering in the air, and then turned back to my desk. The last card, the one I hadn’t thrown away, was tucked safely away. For now, that was enough.

——

The knock on the door was followed by the cheerful voices of Kristof, Patricia, and Queen as they breezed into my office, their energy practically bursting through the space.

“Hey girl! How are you? You’ve been locked in here all day!” Kristof grinned, plopping down on the edge of my desk.

Patricia laughed softly, nudging me with her elbow. “Seriously, you need a break. Come on, let’s go to a bar… get some drinks, enjoy some music, and forget all this drama for a while.”

Queen smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, Rani, it’s time to let loose. You can’t be the workaholic diva 24/7. We’re dragging you out whether you like it or not.”

I looked at them, their faces glowing with the kind of carefree warmth I hadn’t felt in weeks. For a moment, the weight pressing down on me felt a little lighter.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Maybe I need to remember how to have fun again.”

Kristof leaned back with a knowing smirk. “See? That’s the spirit! We’ll make sure you have a night to remember or forget, depending on how much you drink.”

Patricia grinned, pulling out her phone. “I already scoped out a new spot downtown. It’s got great cocktails and a killer playlist. Perfect for a diva like you.”

Queen gave me a playful nudge. “And no talk about work or exes tonight. Just laughter and dancing.”

I sighed but nodded, feeling a flicker of excitement I hadn’t had in a long time. “Alright, you win. But don’t expect me to stay out too late. I have a reputation to keep.”

Kristof chuckled. “Oh, Rani, you’ve been serious for too long. Tonight, we bring back the diva we all know and love.”

Patricia raised an imaginary glass. “To Rani, fierce, unstoppable, and way overdue for some fun.”

Queen added with a wink, “And to leaving the past where it belongs… behind us.”

I smiled fully now, the corners of my mouth lifting with genuine warmth. “Okay then. Let’s go make some memories.”

I gathered my things slowly, the soft hum of the office still ringing in my ears. My fingers fumbled with the zipper of my bag as I glanced around the room, feeling the exhaustion settle deeper in my bones. That’s when my eyes landed on the bouquet I had just tossed into the trashcan, the one from Lamia. For a split second, my hand hesitated, hovering over the colorful petals. They looked so beautiful, so innocent, but right now, they felt like a cruel reminder of everything I was trying to forget.

I took a shaky breath and gripped the stems, pulling the flowers back out. The note was still tucked inside, the familiar handwriting making my chest tighten. But I couldn’t keep holding on… not tonight. So with a flick of my wrist, I dropped them back into the bin, watching the petals scatter with a finality I desperately needed.

The weight on my heart felt a little lighter, but the ache was still there, buried beneath layers of pride and pain.

I zipped my bag with more determination this time, switched off the desk lamp, and stood up. The office, with all its silent memories and whispered regrets, was closing behind me.

Kristof, Patricia, and Queen were waiting outside my company, their bright faces like a lifeline pulling me back to a world that still had laughter, still had moments worth fighting for.

Tonight, I promised myself, I would let the pain wait.

I took one last look at the empty desk and the discarded flowers, then stepped out into the night, ready, if only for a few hours, to be just Rani again.

——

The dim glow of neon lights bathed the bar in a sultry haze as I slid into the plush velvet seat, heels clicking confidently against the floor. Kristof, Patricia, and Queen were already settled, laughter bubbling around the table like champagne. The scent of expensive whiskey and the low hum of conversation swirled through the air, my kind of atmosphere.

I tossed my hair back with a practiced flick, flashing a cool smile. “Okay, ladies, if you thought I’d show up broken, you clearly don’t know me.”

Patricia grinned, raising her glass. “That’s the spirit, girl. Tonight, we forget the drama.”

“Absolutely,” Queen chimed in, her eyes sparkling. “You run the world by day, now it’s time to own the night.”

I let out a soft, amused laugh, reaching for the glass the bartender slid in front of me, a perfectly crafted cocktail, just how I liked it: sharp, sophisticated, with a kick.

“Watch and learn,” I declared, swirling the amber liquid. “This diva isn’t just surviving… she’s thriving.”

Kristof smirked, shaking his head. “Only you, Rani. Only you.”

As the music pulsed through the room, I felt the weight of the week lift, if only for a moment, replaced by the fierce, unbreakable fire that always made me… me.

The night deepened, and the laughter around our table grew louder, more uninhibited. Kristof was recounting one of his ridiculous office mishaps, and Patricia and Queen were hanging on every word, their faces lit up with amusement. I let myself get pulled into the moment, the sharp edges of my day softening with every sip.

But even as I smiled and played the part, there was a part of me that stayed guarded. Lamia’s flowers, the silent reminder of everything I was trying to forget, lingered in the back of my mind, a ghost I wasn’t quite ready to exorcise.

Queen nudged me, her voice low and conspiratorial. “You really gonna keep pushing them away, Rani? After everything?”

I shrugged, setting my glass down with deliberate calm. “Some things aren’t meant to be fixed with a drink or a pretty word. I’m not looking for saviors.”

Kristof leaned forward, eyes sharp. “Then what are you looking for?”

I met his gaze, feeling the old fire flare. “Strength. To move on on my own terms. No pity. No drama. Just… peace.”

Patricia raised her glass again, her smile softening. “To peace, then. Whatever shape it takes.”

We clinked glasses, the sound ringing clear, a toast not just to the night, but to whatever came next.

As the music pulsed through the bar, a man in a sharp suit sidled up beside me, flashing a confident smile. “Care for a dance?” he asked, extending his hand.

I glanced at him coolly, lifting an eyebrow. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

He chuckled, undeterred. “Come on, just one song.”

I shook my head gently, my voice steady but firm. “No, really. I’m not in the mood.”

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and melted back into the crowd. I returned my attention to my friends, my expression settling back into its usual poised mask. Dancing wasn’t on my agenda tonight, not when there were bigger battles waiting for me tomorrow.

——

The world was spinning, colors blending together like some wild dream I couldn’t wake up from. Each drink had been a rebellion, a tiny act of defiance against the mess my life had become. My heels clicked unevenly as I tried to keep my balance walking toward the penthouse, but the floor seemed to tilt with every step.

And then there was Manang Sally, waiting at the door like always, arms crossed and eyes sharp, but this time I could see the worry behind them.

“Ma’am Rani, lasing po kayo,” she said firmly, her voice steady as she blocked my way.

I swayed, a tired smirk tugging at my lips. “Maybe… but tonight, I don’t care.”

She shook her head, but her hand found mine, guiding me inside. “Tara na po Ma’am kailangan niyo na magpahinga.”

For a moment, I wanted to argue, to fight like I always did. But the truth hit me harder than any insult or pain, I was exhausted. So I let her lead me in, the door closing softly behind us, shutting out the chaos of the night.

I stumbled into the penthouse, my steps uneven, the alcohol still swirling in my head. The moment I saw Lamia standing there, calm, composed, holding Faisal gently in her arms, I felt a sharp sting of fury. My heart throbbed with pain and anger, but my diva pride wouldn’t let me break down in front of her.

I squared my shoulders and demanded, my voice cold and cutting, “What are you doing here, Lamia? After everything… after all you’ve done?”

Her eyes met mine, steady and unyielding. No tears, no weakness, just that fierce, unbreakable diva aura I both hated and envied. “Rani,” she said softly, voice like velvet but firm, “I’m sorry for the mistakes I made. I know I hurt you deeply, but I’m here for Faisal. For our son.”

I laughed, bitter and hollow, feeling the old wounds ache deeper. “Sorry? You think sorry fixes the mess you made? While I was drowning, you were off with Peterson. You ruined everything.”

Lamia didn’t flinch. Instead, she took a step closer, unwavering. “I won’t deny what I did was wrong. But I love Faisal, and I want us to be a family… for his sake. I’ll do whatever it takes. You and I, we may hate each other, but that has to come second. Our child comes first.”

I crossed my arms, voice sharp as a knife. “You think it’s that simple? To pretend all the pain, all the betrayal never happened? I stayed in this marriage for Faisal. I sacrificed everything. But I’m done. I want a divorce.”

Her eyes darkened, fierce and unrelenting. “You’ll never get that from me.”

I blinked, surprised, then narrowed my eyes. “What did you just say?”

Lamia’s voice dropped lower but stayed resolute. “I will never sign those divorce papers. I refuse to give up on us, on this family. No matter how much you hate me, no matter how broken we are, I will do everything… everything, to make this marriage work again. For Faisal’s sake. He deserves to grow up with both his mothers, whole and loved.”

I stared at her, heart pounding with conflicting emotions, resentment, exhaustion, and a reluctant flicker of something else buried deep down. “You can’t force me to stay,” I said, my voice trembling just slightly. “I’m tired of pretending. Tired of fighting for something that was never real.”

She stepped closer still, her gaze burning with unshakable determination. “Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe it was never meant to be. But we owe it to Faisal. And if you won’t fight with me, then I’ll fight for both of us. I won’t let this family fall apart.”

For a moment, silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating. I looked away, the weight of everything crashing down on me. The shattered dreams, the lost baby, the endless war between us.

But deep inside, beneath all the pain and hate, I knew one truth I couldn’t escape, we were bound together by more than just marriage, we were bound by a child we both loved fiercely.

I swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper, “I don’t know if I can forgive you. I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

Lamia’s eyes softened, but her voice remained steady. “I’ll earn your trust. One day at a time. I promise you that.”

And as she stood there holding Faisal, that tiny, innocent life caught between us, I realized that no matter how much we hated each other, we were trapped in a story far bigger than ourselves… a story that wasn’t finished yet.

I turned away from Lamia, the tension still crackling between us like electricity, my head pounding not just from the drinks but from the weight of everything said and unsaid. The alcohol clung stubbornly to my skin and breath, a bitter reminder of the night’s chaos.

I needed to wash it all off, the smell, the dizziness, the exhaustion gnawing at me from the inside out. I made my way to the bathroom, the cold marble floor cool under my bare feet. As the water ran hot over me, the steam curled around my body, trying to soothe the ache in my muscles and the ache in my heart.

The scent of soap and the warmth of the water helped me push back the storm swirling in my mind. For a moment, the world outside the glass walls, the fights, the loss, the broken promises faded away, replaced by the simple, healing rhythm of water sliding over skin.

I closed my eyes, letting the water wash away the night, but the weight of Lamia’s words lingered. She wouldn’t sign the papers. She would fight for us… for Faisal. Even though I hated her with everything in me, part of me knew this battle was far from over.

With a deep breath, I turned off the water, wrapping a soft towel around myself. I needed to face the night again, to face the dinner waiting downstairs, to face the family who still didn’t understand how fragile I was inside.

Steeling myself, I stepped out of the bathroom, ready to wear my diva armor once more, even if my heart was breaking beneath it.

After my bath, I slipped into something comfortable and headed downstairs for dinner, hoping for a moment of peace. But as I stepped into the dining area, there she was, Lamia, sitting calmly at the table like she owned the place.

I raised an eyebrow, my tone sharp and biting. “Paano ka pala nakapunta dito? Akala ko ba nilalayo ka ni Babba?”

Lamia looked up slowly, her eyes steady and unapologetic. “I begged him,” she said quietly but firmly. “For Faisal. I told him I couldn’t stay away, not now, not when he needs both of us.”

I crossed my arms, the diva in me refusing to show weakness. “So you just ignore Babba? Do whatever you want, regardless of the chaos you’ve caused?”

She met my gaze head-on, unflinching. “Because this family means more than any punishment. We may hate each other, but Faisal deserves for us to try. I’m not leaving. Not yet. And I won’t sign the divorce papers.”

Her words hung heavy between us, a challenge and a promise all at once. I narrowed my eyes, knowing this battle was far from over, and maybe, just maybe, it never would be.

The clink of cutlery against fine china filled the tense silence as we both picked at our meals. I glanced at Lamia, studying her calm, almost serene expression, like she was absolutely certain this war wasn’t over.

“Seriously,” I said, voice icy, “how do you expect this to work? We don’t love each other. We hate each other. And you still think we can pretend for Faisal’s sake?”

Lamia took a slow bite of her food, then looked up, eyes sharp. “Pretend? No. I want us to try. To at least give Faisal a chance to have both parents without constant fighting.”

I scoffed, swirling the wine in my glass. “Try? You think that’s enough? You cheated on me, on our marriage, on our family. How do you think that looks to anyone? To Faisal?”

Her jaw tightened but she didn’t back down. “I made mistakes… huge ones. I’m sorry. I’m trying to make it right.”

“Trying?” I snapped, leaning forward. “You don’t get to just say ‘I’m sorry’ and wipe away the mess you made. I lost our baby, Lamia. And you were off playing house with your ex.”

Lamia’s eyes flickered, the edge of pain beneath the diva’s armor just visible for a second. “I never stopped being your wife. But we never had love, Rani. We had an arrangement. Now, it’s time to decide what we want for Faisal’s future.”

I swallowed hard, heart pounding with anger and something else I didn’t want to admit.

“So you’ll fight me? Refuse to sign the papers? Keep living like this?”

She nodded, voice steady and unwavering. “Yes. For Faisal, and maybe, someday, for us too.”

I stared at her, knowing the battle had only just begun, and that neither of us was willing to back down.