Chapter 15

Rani’s Point Of View

Two weeks passed after the gala, and despite the relentless waves of nausea that hit me like clockwork, I buried myself deeper into work.

Mornings blurred into long, grueling days filled with meetings, calls, and endless decisions. Each time I felt my stomach twist and threaten to betray me, I forced a smile, took a deep breath, and pushed through.

I wasn’t just working for myself anymore. Every project, every negotiation, every late night was for Faisal and for the secret growing inside me that I hadn’t told a soul.

The exhaustion was bone-deep, but I refused to let it show. Behind the polished suits and carefully crafted presentations, I was fighting a private battle no one else knew about.

Friends and colleagues noticed the tiredness in my eyes, but no one dared ask. I was Rani Hidalgo—strong, untouchable, unstoppable.

And even when my body screamed for rest, my mind was sharper than ever. Because giving up wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.

As I was reviewing the latest quarterly reports, the door to my office opened quietly. Elise stepped in, her usual brisk energy tempered by a hint of urgency.

“Ma’am, may update po ako,” she said, setting down a fresh folder on my desk. “The board just confirmed, kailangan po nating pumunta ng Switzerland this Thursday for the investor summit.”

I frowned, rubbing my temples as the familiar nausea stirred again. “Switzerland? This Thursday?”

Elise nodded, concern flickering in her eyes. “Oo, ma’am. It’s an important meeting with potential partners. The CEO insists your presence is required.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down. The timing couldn’t be worse, but I couldn’t afford to say no.

“Alright,” I said firmly, straightening up. “Start the preparations. I want everything arranged perfectly.”

Elise smiled, relieved. “On it, ma’am. I’ll handle the itinerary and make sure your schedule is tight but manageable.”

As she left, I stared out the window, knowing this trip would test me more than any boardroom battle yet. But there was no backing down, not with so much on the line.

As I was about to dive back into my reports, the office door opened again, this time more formally. I looked up to see Babba, Mr. Jazed Al-Gaddafi, stepping inside with his usual calm authority.

“Rani,” he greeted quietly but firmly. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

I stood immediately, my voice respectful yet steady. “Not at all, Babba. Please, come in.”

He gave a small, appreciative nod as he took a seat. “I just wanted to check on you… and on you and Lamia. How are things between you two? Any progress?”

I paused, feeling the weight of his question settle over me. “Honestly, Babba… no. Nothing has changed. We’re still as distant as ever.”

His eyes softened just a bit, but the firmness in his voice remained. “I understand. But remember, this is not just about the two of you. It’s about Faisal and both families.”

I nodded slowly. “I know, Babba. I’m trying, even if it feels impossible sometimes.”

He gave a reassuring nod. “That’s all I ask. Keep your head up, Rani. We all want what’s best for you, Lamia, and for Faisal.”

As he rose to leave, I felt the quiet weight of responsibility settle deeper in my chest. The road ahead was still rocky, but I couldn’t let Babba or Mama down. Not even my own parents. Not now.

Babba lingered for a moment before speaking again, his tone softer this time. “Rani, I know this isn’t easy. But have you considered… maybe, trying to reach out to Lamia differently? Sometimes people need space, but also reminders that someone cares.”

I shook my head slowly, the frustration bubbling beneath my calm exterior. “I’ve tried, Babba. More times than I can count. But she’s closed off, distant… like she’s already made up her mind.”

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Sometimes the hardest part is waiting. But remember, patience doesn’t mean weakness. It means strength.”

I met his eyes, feeling a flicker of something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in weeks… hope.

“Thank you, Babba,” I said quietly. “I’ll keep trying. For Faisal… and for Mama and you.”

Babba settled into the chair again, clearly not ready to leave just yet. His gaze softened as he studied me carefully.

“You seem burdened, Rani. Is there anything you want to share? You know you can trust me.”

I forced a tight smile, shaking my head. “No, Babba. Everything’s fine. Just the usual challenges.”

Inside, my heart was pounding. How could I explain the truth without risking everything? Lamia’s secret meetings with Peterson, the tangled mess of emotions, and most of all the fact that I was carrying our child, alone in this storm.

If Babba knew, I was certain he would go after Lamia with everything he had and that wasn’t a battle I wanted to start.

So I kept my lips sealed, protecting the fragile balance with all the strength I could muster.

“I promise, Babba,” I said quietly. “When the time is right, you’ll know everything. But not yet.”

He nodded, seeming to understand the weight of my silence. “Very well, Rani. Just remember, you don’t have to carry this alone.”

His words hung in the air as I swallowed the secret deep inside, knowing some truths were too dangerous to reveal… at least for now.

The moment Babba finally stood up and gave me a parting nod, the heaviness in the air didn’t quite leave. I watched him walk out of my office with quiet guilt pressing on my chest… I hated lying to him. He deserved the truth, but not if it meant destroying Lamia. Not yet.

As the door clicked shut behind him, I took a slow breath, trying to gather myself. But barely a minute passed before Elise poked her head in again.

“Ma’am…” she said with a sheepish smile, “may isa na namang bisita. Si Sir Damian Alonzo po. May bitbit na naman siyang bulaklak… orchids ulit.”

I shut my eyes for a second and exhaled sharply. “Let him in.”

A few seconds later, the door swung open again and there he was. Damian Alonzo, in all his glossy, businessman glory, standing in my office like he belonged there. A charming smile painted on his face, and in his hand, a large bouquet of pristine orchids, the exact kind I mentioned in passing once. Just once.

“Miss Hidalgo,” he greeted smoothly, stepping inside with the confidence of a man who always gets what he wants. “I thought these might brighten your day.”

I gave him a tight smile, forcing myself to stand. “You really don’t have to keep bringing me flowers, Damian.”

“And yet here I am,” he replied with a playful shrug, placing the bouquet on the edge of my desk. “What can I say? You deserve beautiful things.”

I arched a brow, crossing my arms over my chest. “What do you want, really?”

He chuckled. “Just to see you smile.” Then his gaze dipped, pausing on my waistline, not quite obvious yet, but I noticed. I was noticing everything now.

“Long day?” he asked, eyes flicking back up.

I didn’t answer right away. My walls were up. Always had to be. “Something like that. I’ve had more important visitors today.”

“Must be why you look a little tired,” he said gently, though his tone wasn’t mocking. “Maybe I can take you out to dinner? Just a break. No pressure.”

I leaned against my desk and gave him a slow, practiced smile. “I don’t do breaks, Damian. You should know that by now.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ll keep trying until you do.”

Persistent. That’s what Damian was. But if he knew even half of what I was carrying emotionally, literally… he might not be so quick to show up with orchids.

Still, I didn’t send him away. Not yet. Let him keep trying. It was nice… to be wanted, even when I felt invisible to the one person I once thought would always see me.

“Fine,” I said. “You can stay for five minutes. No more.”

Damian smirked and pulled the chair across from me. “Five minutes. I’ll make them count.”

Damian lounged in the chair like he had a stake in this office, legs crossed, posture confident, eyes fixed on me like he wasn’t just visiting, like he belonged here. I stayed on my side of the desk, back straight, jaw sharp, every inch the CEO I’d fought to become. He had a bouquet of orchids on the table again, pristine and elegant. The only flowers I liked.

“You’re going to run out of orchids at this rate,” I said coolly, not looking up from the document in my hand.

He chuckled. “I already cleared out two flower shops. Worth it.”

I rolled my eyes, dropping the file on my desk with a soft thud. “You can’t flirt your way into a meeting with me, Damian. I have work.”

He smirked. “I know. That’s what I like about you… you never pretend to be soft just because someone brought flowers.”

“Because I’m not,” I replied flatly.

“Maybe not,” he said, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “But you’re not made of stone either, Rani. I know that.”

My eyes met his, hard and unblinking. “Is this where you say something philosophical? Or worse, romantic?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Depends on how much time I’ve got left.”

I glanced at the clock. “Three minutes.”

He grinned. “Plenty.”

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. “Fine. Say what you came to say.”

“I came to see you,” he said simply. “Because you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. You look pale. Tired. And maybe you’ll throw a phone at me for saying it, but I’m going to say it anyway: I’m worried.”

I stayed silent for a moment. “Worried about what? That I’ll pass out in the boardroom?”

“No,” he said softly, “that you’ll fall apart and no one will notice because everyone expects you to carry it all.”

That made my breath hitch, just a second, just a flicker of weakness I quickly buried under a raised brow.

“I’ve survived worse,” I said.

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied. “I just hate that you think you have to do it alone.”

I stood up, walking to the side of the office and placing the orchids on the console table by the window. My back to him, I asked, “And what, you’re here to save me?”

“No,” Damian said, standing too. “I’m here because I won’t leave just because it’s complicated.”

I turned to face him. “Complicated?”

“I know about Kevin,” he said carefully, watching my reaction. “I know he said you were too much. That you were impossible. He told people you scared him.”

I gave a short laugh. “He was weak.”

Damian stepped closer. “Exactly. But I’m not Kevin. And I’m not weak.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t know half the mess I’m in, Damian.”

“You’re married to a woman who’s probably still in love with someone else,” he said bluntly, “and you’re still standing, still working, still carrying that weight without cracking.”

He had no idea. No idea about the baby growing inside me. No idea about Lamia sneaking off to see her ex. No idea about the vomit, the silence, the heartbreak of loving a child while feeling unloved in return.

“And what,” I asked, voice low, sharp, “do you think you’ll get out of all this? A relationship? My attention? A seat beside me?”

Damian didn’t flinch. “No. I just want to be someone you don’t have to pretend with. Someone who sees you as you are… flawed, fierce, tired, brilliant and still shows up anyway.”

Silence settled between us like thick velvet.

“Kevin gave up,” he said. “But I won’t.”

I looked at him for a long time. “Why?”

He smiled, but there was no playfulness in it now just a softness I didn’t know what to do with.

“Because I’ve never met a woman like you, Rani. And I don’t want to spend my life wondering what would’ve happened if I didn’t try.”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. My throat was tight with things I couldn’t say… not now, not yet.

He took the hint and stepped back, giving me space.

“You still have one minute left,” I said quietly, as he reached the door.

He glanced over his shoulder with a crooked grin. “Keep it. For next time.”

And then he left, leaving the orchids and a thousand unsaid things behind.

——

The office was finally quiet. Elise had gone home an hour ago, the last meeting had ended, and even Damian with all his charm and orchids was gone.

I leaned back in my chair and rubbed the side of my temple. I had a hundred unread emails, a dozen reports to approve, and I hadn’t eaten a full meal all day. But instead of heading straight to the penthouse, where the silence would greet me like a slap, I grabbed my coat and bag and walked out.

The moment I stepped out of the elevator and into the warm, humid Manila evening, I didn’t call the driver. I didn’t want the usual routine. I just started walking, heels clicking against the pavement, the city lights bleeding into the night like melted gold.

And before I even realized it, I was standing in line at Starbucks.

People didn’t recognize me much in this crowd, probably because I wasn’t wearing my usual power blazer or because I wasn’t flanked by assistants. I liked it this way. Quiet. Anonymous.

“Grande caramel macchiato, less sugar,” I told the barista without missing a beat. “And a slice of blueberry cheesecake. To go.”

While I waited, I sat at a corner table. The overhead lights buzzed faintly above, and the whir of blenders and quiet chatter blurred together like white noise.

I stared out the window.

My reflection stared back.

Tired. Pale. Strong. Alone.

I placed a hand gently on my belly. Still barely showing. Still my secret.

The baby didn’t kick yet. But I liked to think he or she could feel me, feel the war I was fighting just to survive each day.

To carry this child while Lamia… stayed gone. With Peterson. With her perfume and her silence and her cruelty.

When they called my name, I stood slowly, took my drink and the paper bag, and walked back into the night.

I wasn’t ready to go home.

But I had to.

Because someone had to show up for Faisal.

And for this little one too.

Just as I was tightening the lid on my caramel macchiato and tucking the paper bag of cheesecake under my arm, I turned to leave the Starbucks, ready to step into the night, drown in the silence of the penthouse, and pretend like the ache in my chest was just indigestion again.

But then I saw him.

Markus.

He was standing by the door, leaning slightly against the wall, holding his usual black coffee, no sugar, no cream, just like the way he used to tell me love should be. Strong and bitter, but real. His hair was still perfectly swept back, and he was still wearing that soft navy button-down shirt I once claimed as my own every time I stayed the night in his apartment.

My breath hitched.

He looked up.

And his eyes locked onto mine.

Just like that, I was no longer Rani Hidalgo, CEO, wife, and mother.

I was just Rani the woman who once belonged entirely to him.

“Rani,” he said, voice low, like the name still hurt coming out.

I froze in place for a beat, then drew in a slow breath. “Markus.”

He stared at me for a moment, lips parted slightly, like he wasn’t sure if he should smile or break down.

“You look…” he began, but his voice faltered. “Different.”

“Pregnancy nausea will do that to you,” I replied casually, taking a small sip of my drink, keeping my voice flat, businesslike. Detached.

His jaw tightened. “You’re pregnant.”

“Mm.” I didn’t confirm it. I didn’t deny it. Let him think what he wanted.

He looked down, nodding slowly. “So it’s really happening. This… marriage.”

I forced a smile. “It happened a long time ago, Markus. You knew that.”

His eyes met mine again, full of something heavy and familiar. “I knew. That’s why we ended, remember?”

Of course I remembered. Every day. Every time I closed my eyes. The night I told him I couldn’t choose him over my family. Over duty. Over a child who didn’t exist yet but somehow already had my heart.

He stepped closer, cautiously. “I didn’t fight it because you asked me not to.”

“I didn’t ask,” I said softly, voice trembling against my will. “I begged.”

He nodded. “Because you were scared.”

“Because I was loyal,” I corrected, eyes sharp. “To my parents. To the contract. To the life I never wanted but still signed up for.”

The silence between us was so thick it hurt.

He looked at me like he was memorizing every new detail. My tired eyes, the slight swell in my belly, the pain in my voice I couldn’t quite bury.

“I never stopped loving you,” he said, voice cracking like it didn’t belong to a man who’d let me go so easily.

“I know,” I whispered. “And I never stopped loving you.”

His hand twitched like he wanted to reach out, like instinct was still louder than reason.

“But I have a son now,” I said, stronger this time. “And another on the way. And no matter what Lamia is or isn’t to me, Faisal is my son. He didn’t ask for any of this. I won’t give him a life full of scandal and pain.”

Markus’s face twisted slightly, torn between pride and devastation.

“You always chose everyone else first,” he said quietly.

“And that’s why I’m still standing,” I replied. “Because I learned how to carry everything… even when it meant breaking.”

He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to change my mind.

Because he knew he’d already lost me long ago, when that wedding was arranged, and I walked down the aisle with someone else’s last name stitched onto my fate.

“Take care of yourself, Rani,” he murmured, stepping back.

I gave him a soft nod, lips trembling as I turned away.

“You too, Markus,” I whispered, not looking back.

Because if I did… I knew I’d run. And I couldn’t afford to run.

Not with two lives depending on me to keep walking.

——

The moment I stepped out of the car and into the private elevator, I felt it… that crushing ache in my chest, like something sacred had just been ripped out of me again. The Starbucks bag crinkled in my hand, now cold and forgotten, like my caramel macchiato could ever fix the storm brewing in my ribs.

The elevator doors slid open to the penthouse, silent and dark except for the soft glow of the hallway sconces. It was late. Lamia wasn’t home. Of course she wasn’t. She never was.

I took a slow breath and stepped inside.

My heels echoed across the marble floors, each click sounding like guilt. I dropped the bag on the kitchen counter without a glance and walked straight to the window, staring at the city lights of BGC glowing like fake stars. I pressed a hand over my chest. God, it hurt.

I missed him.

I missed Markus so much.

And I hated myself for it.

We ended it cleanly, yes. But clean didn’t mean painless. Clean just meant we were both too proud to bleed in front of each other.

I could still feel the warmth of his gaze. The way he looked at me like I was something breakable, something holy. Something his.

And now?

Now I was married to a woman who hated me. Who spent more time with her ex than with her own son. And I was carrying another child that she didn’t even know existed.

I sank into the armchair by the living room window, resting my hand gently on my stomach.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the life growing inside me. “You’ll never meet him. But he loved me. And if you ever feel empty, maybe that’s the part of me that misses him still.”

The silence answered like a lullaby.

I wiped at my eyes quickly, breathing in deep, trying to shake it off. I had no room for heartbreak. Not anymore.

I had a company to lead. A son to raise. A secret to protect.

And a war to survive.

Of all the things I built around myself, walls, armor, fire-sharp words… Markus was the one person who could undo it all with just one look.

I hated that.

I hated how vulnerable I still was when it came to him.

Even now, as I sat curled on the velvet armchair in our penthouse, the lights of BGC blinking like ghosts through the floor-to-ceiling windows, my arms wrapped around my belly, I felt raw. Like I’d been stripped down to the most tender part of me.

I stared at the dark hallway that led to the bedroom I shared with a woman who didn’t know I was pregnant, didn’t care that I was breaking, and would never understand how much strength it took just to come home every night.

But Markus… he always saw through me.

Even tonight. Even with just a glance.

And that made everything harder.

He didn’t ask me to come back. He didn’t beg. He didn’t guilt me.

He just stood there, loving me silently in a world where I was never allowed to love him back again.

I pressed my forehead to my knees, closing my eyes.

If it were just me, I’d have run to him.

I would’ve dropped everything, the name, the marriage, the silence and gone back to the only man who ever truly understood how I breathed.

But I wasn’t just Rani anymore.

I was Faisal’s mother.

I was the vessel for another life.

I was a shield now, not just a woman.

And shields don’t get to shatter, not even when it hurts.

So I let the pain sit with me, silent and cold, as I rocked gently in the chair, cradling my growing belly. No tears. No drama.

Just quiet heartbreak for a man I still loved… but had to let go for a life I chose to protect.

Late into the quiet of the night, the soft click of the penthouse door announced Lamia’s return. I was already lying on our side of the bed, eyes half-closed, trying to will the ache inside me into silence. But then the air shifted, the unmistakable scent that clung to her like a shadow.

Men’s cologne.

Peterson’s cologne.

I didn’t have to look up to know who she’d been with.

She sauntered into the room, every step dripping with careless arrogance, as if the lingering scent was a trophy she wanted me to see and hate.

I swallowed the bitter lump rising in my throat, gripping the sheets tighter.

“Late night with your ex again?” I said, voice low but dripping with venom.

Lamia smirked, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “What, you jealous? Or just bitter you’re stuck here alone?”

I clenched my jaw. “Jealous? Hardly. I’m just tired of the lies.”

She moved closer, eyes glinting cold. “You think I care what you think? You’ve got your little secrets too.”

I shot her a look sharp enough to cut glass. “Better to have secrets than to live pretending you don’t have one.”

She laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “Keep telling yourself that, Rani. While I’m busy living my life.”

I closed my eyes briefly, the scent of Peterson still thick in the air, an invisible reminder of everything I couldn’t control.

“Just don’t forget,” I said quietly, “I’m carrying what you never will.”

She paused, then tossed back, “That won’t stop me.”

And with that, she turned away, leaving me alone with the sting of betrayal and the silent pulse of a secret growing inside me.