Chapter 2

HAPPY ONE MILLION READS!

One Sunday afternoon of October 2024 ✍️
ㅤ

“Saving marriage before it’s too late…”

Rani’s Point of View
ㅤ

“Rani, can you please stop…”

“Ms. Rani, sandali lang po…”

“Ma’am Rani…”

I stopped walking.

Correction, I snapped to a halt in the middle of the marble hallway of the house, heels echoing like warning shots. My mother, my secretary, and my driver, all trailing after me like a group chat I never asked to join were begging me to “check” on my beloved wife in the hospital.

Yes. Wife.

As in, arranged marriage. Forced partnership. Designer prison with a diamond ring.

I turned slowly, Chanel sunglasses halfway down my nose, lips pursed in pure irritation.

“If one more person tells me to visit that woman,” I said coolly, “I will personally schedule your funerals back-to-back.”

Three pairs of eyes blinked. Silent. Smart choice.

I flipped my coat collar, adjusted my clutch, and kept walking no, gliding toward the door. Today was already a disaster. My meeting got pushed. My coffee was lukewarm. And now these people want me to make a dramatic hospital visit to check on Lamia, the queen of venom in a silk robe?

No.

“I’m not going to that damn hospital just to see that alligator in a Birkin,” I snapped, throwing one last glare over my shoulder. “Let her heal in peace. Or not. I truly don’t care.”

I pushed open the front door of my house, our penthouse, actually. And stepped out like the scene was mine. Because it is.

Let the cameras roll. Let the family whisper.
I’m Rani.

And I don’t do pity visits, especially not for women who choke on their own pride louder than their IVs.

Mag da-dalawang taon na akong kasal. Kasal na hindi ko pinangarap, hindi ko pinlano, at lalo nang hindi ko pinili.

It was an arranged marriage. A business transaction wrapped in lace and luxury, courtesy of our ever-powerful parents na parehong nasa top tier ng business industry. They shook hands, signed contracts, and the next thing I knew, I was walking down the aisle… not to love, but to strategy.

Ipinakasal ako sa anak ng isang Arabian business tycoon at isang Filipina business queen. Yes, queen. If you’ve been anywhere near Forbes Asia or the Philippine financial scene, kilala niyo sila. The Al-Gaddafi Family.

We’re talking legacy money. Oil, luxury chains, tech. Old money na may new money energy. There’s Tito Jazed, the stone-faced oil mogul. Tita Victoria, a woman so polished she makes diamonds look dusty. Luqman Omar, their golden boy, panganay, devastatingly handsome, already married with a baby girl who looks like she stepped out of a Vogue Baby editorial. Then there’s the infamous twins. Lameel and Latif. Lameel is the quiet storm. Latif? A charmer who knows it. They’re the only two people from that family I actually enjoy being around.

And then… there’s her.

My wife.
The second eldest Al-Gaddafi.
The woman I now share a name, a penthouse, and a legal certificate with.

Lamia Al-Gaddafi.

Yes, you read that right, I am the wife of that Lamia. The one always in magazines. The one CEOs flirt with. The one who makes other women question their self-worth just by walking into a room.

Kung ganda lang ang batayan, panalo na siya. Walang tapon. Face card, body card, black card, lahat valid.

Fun fact. Mahigit sampung lalaki na ang nagtangkang ligawan si Lamia before and after our marriage. Ten. And not just regular guys, we’re talking heirs, athletes, even a damn politician. But guess what? Ni isa sa kanila, hindi niya pinatulan.

Because the moment she says yes to someone without her parents’ seal of approval? Endgame. Tanggal sa yaman. Exiled from the empire.

Kaya ayan. Ako ang pinili. Not because of love, but because I looked good in the Al-Gaddafi narrative. And maybe… just maybe… because Lamia hated being told who she couldn’t be with.

Now here I am, wife to the country’s most untouchable woman… and yet, somehow, still feeling like the outsider.

At saka para sa akin? Kung iisipin mo talaga, hindi nakaka-very demure ‘tong mga lalaki na pilit pa rin kaming pini-pursue ni Lamia. Like, hello? Alam ng buong bayan na kasal na kami. May anak na kami. There are billboards, press releases, tabloid rumors, and yet here they are… sending messages, flowers, and “accidental” run-ins sa events.

Maybe they think just because we were arranged, that the marriage doesn’t mean anything. That one day, ma-fall lang kami sa kanila, and boom! divorce papers, freedom, fairy tale ending. Well, let me set the record straight.

That’s not gonna happen. At least not on my watch.

I may not have chosen this marriage and I may not be in love with Lamia, but I’ll be damned if I let my son grow up in a broken home just because some smooth-talking jerk thinks he’s the main character.

Faisal deserves better. He deserves both of us.
Lamia and I are all he needs, even if we don’t always get along. Okay fine. Even if we almost never get along.

To be honest? Kung hindi lang talaga masama ang ugali ng asawa kong ‘yon, baka nahulog na rin ang loob ko sa kanya. Pero hindi eh. She makes it impossible.

That woman… that alligator in stilettos… is cold, sarcastic, distant. We’re like oil and holy water, hindi talaga nagsasama nang maayos. Hindi kami magkasundo, lalo na sa paraan niya ako pakitunguan. Palagi akong parang nuisance sa mata niya, a decorative inconvenience in her perfect little empire.

We’re both straight. Let’s not sugarcoat it.
We didn’t grow up dreaming of marrying another woman.
So the awkwardness? The tension? It’s real. Lalo na pag magkasama kami sa private places, the kitchen, the living room, our damn bedroom. Para kaming may invisible wall palagi.

Sometimes she ignores me so hard, I almost feel like a ghost in our own home.

But still… I stay. Not for her. Not for pride. But for Faisal.

Because while she keeps pretending I’m just a name on a contract, I’m busy being a mother. And I will not let my son grow up without knowing what commitment looks like, kahit gaano ka inconvenient ang truth sa loob ng bahay na ‘to.

ㅤIf I were to describe Lamia, my wife, mind you, I’d tell you this,

Picture a woman who walks into a boardroom like she owns the building. Tailored suit? Custom. Heels? Lethal. That expression? Cold enough to freeze weak men where they stand.

Her gaze alone can silence a room. Her voice? Sharp. Precise. No room for nonsense. She doesn’t raise it she doesn’t have to. When Lamia speaks, people listen. They obey.

She is the definition of unshakable professionalism. A force. A brand. A legacy in stilettos. You don’t question her you just try not to disappoint her.

But beneath that frosty exterior? There’s a mind sharper than any contract she’s ever signed. She’s analytical. Calculated. Ruthlessly strategic. A perfectionist to the bone. If something isn’t perfect, it isn’t worth presenting including herself.

Her beauty? Let’s not pretend it’s average. She’s stunning. Objectively. But it’s not the soft, approachable kind of pretty that invites you in. No, it’s the kind of beauty that comes with power. Controlled. Polished. Intimidating. The kind that makes you second-guess yourself just by standing next to her in a photo.

People admire her. They’re drawn to her intelligence. Her ambition. Her confidence.

But let’s not lie, they’re also afraid of her. Because Lamia doesn’t bend. She doesn’t adjust. She sets the standard, and you either meet it or get the hell out of her way.

She’s earned her place at the top through blood, brilliance, and branding. And she makes damn sure everyone knows it.

In short? Lamia Al-Gaddafi is the full package. Scary. Smart. Super Gorgeous. SSS.

And unfortunately for me?

She’s also my wife.

ㅤ
——
ㅤㅤ
ㅤ

“Ano, hindi mo ba talaga pupuntahan ang asawa mo?”
Tanong sa akin ni Kristof, my ever-blunt gay best friend who also happens to be one of the most influential businessmen in the country. He barged into my office the moment he heard na nasa hospital si Lamia.

Although let’s be real, ako talaga ang binisita niya. Hindi si Lamia.

“Give me three acceptable reasons why I should visit that woman,” I said, rolling my eyes as I continued signing the papers in the thick folder in front of me.

“Gaga ka ba, Rani?” he snapped, counting on his fingers.
“Una, asawa mo siya. Ikalawa, na-overfatigue siya, for Pete’s sake, girl! Ano, kapag patay na siya saka ka lang pupunta? Okay ka rin minsan eh.”

“Third one?” I asked lazily, not even sparing him a glance.

Honestly, lahat ng tao sa paligid ko family, staff, even some investors suportado ang marriage naming dalawa ni alligator. Kaming dalawa lang talaga ang may issue sa isa’t isa.

“Ikatlo…” he said, crossing his arms and glaring. “Gustong-gusto na kitang murahin, bakla ka. Wala ka man lang pakialam sa asawa mo?! Na-s-stress ang beauty ko sa ‘yo!”

Sinabayan pa niya ng kunwaring pag-flip ng buhok sa ere, kahit napaka manly naman ang gupit niya. Umarte talaga ang bakla parang may six-inch Brazilian blowout.

“Tapos kapag pumunta ako doon, ano?” I scoffed, not even trying to hide the sarcasm. “Mag-aaway lang kami. Or worse, iwasan lang namin ang isa’t isa. And as you said, she’s suffering from over fatigue, baka kapag nag-clash pa kami doon, matuluyan na siya.”

Malamig kong saad habang sinulyapan ko si Kristof for half a second before going back to my papers.

“Mahal mo na ba siya?” Diretsong tanong ni Kristof.

Wow. Jump scare.

“Sa tingin mo, Kristof?” I snapped back with a roll of my eyes. “Of course not. If that woman had been even slightly nice to me since day one, baka may chance pa. Pero hindi eh.” I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed. “That woman can pull both genders I’ll give her that, but definitely not me.”

Sa dami ng taong kilala siya, I swear, ako lang ang totoong nakakakilala sa ugali niya.

“Until now she’s still not accepting you as her wife?” he asked habang pinaglalaruan ang fake nails niya like it was the most casual topic in the world.

I nodded slowly.

“Oo. At saka okay lang din naman. Hindi ko rin naman tanggap na ikinasal ako sa isang tulad niya,” I muttered, voice dropping, “Ipokrita.”

“Alam mo,” Kristof started, pouting, “napansin ko naman from the start, parang may chance na mag-work ang marriage niyo. I mean, you left your ex. Si Lamia rin. Tapos kung maka-‘acting’ kayo sa public? Akala mo tunay na in love, sweet, caring, scripted to perfection. Tapos nagka-baby pa kayo.”

He sighed. “Pero in the end… wala rin pala.”

Akala ko rin. I always thought, kung naging maayos lang kami ni Lamia since day one… buntis na ulit siguro ako ngayon. Yes, because our parents never stopped pushing. They always bring it up, every family dinner, every casual conversation, laging may paalala, “Kailan niyo susundan si Faisal?”

But what they all don’t know? I go to the clinic secretly. By my own. Trying to be pregnant again. But I think it’s just failed, the doctor said nothing seems happening.

Our firstborn, Faisal, is just 8 months old now. 4 months after kami ikinasal ni Lamia, nagpa-IVF na agad ako. No time wasted, our parents practically planned it for us. At that point, wala na rin naman akong energy makipagtalo. Sige, baby na kung baby.

And now? Same script. Same pressure. “Magpa-turok ka na ulit.” “Simulan niyo na ulit ni Lamia ang… alam mo na.” They say it like it’s a simple task, like Lamia and I are some kind of well-oiled machine.

But every time I try to bring it up with her, nauuwi lang kami sa pagtatalo.

The last time we were civil, like genuinely okay was four months ago. But that ended quickly. Nag-away kami. She yelled at me. And something in me just… snapped.

I lost the energy. The hope. The willingness to even try again.

And now? I get it.

Ayaw talaga niya sa’kin.

“Tama na kakatingin mo diyan sa glass wall, girl,” Kristof said as he stood up from the visitor’s chair in front of my desk. “Halika na, lunch tayo sa resto. Treat mo.”

Tiningnan ko lang siya ng blangko. Sakto naman, may nag-notif sa phone ko. Tumunog nang mahina, kaya yumuko ako para silipin.

It was from Tita Victoria. Kaagad kong kinuha ang phone sa table at binuksan ang message.
ㅤ
mommy
rani can u bring faisal here at the hospital? lamia’s looking for her son 🥺

Napakunot ang noo ko sandali, but I quickly typed back

ㅤ
Rani Hidalgo Al Gaddafi
got it ma, just gonna eat lunch before heading there.

“Ano na? Halika na,” Kristof urged again, raising a brow.

“Just an hour,” I sighed, standing up and fixing my blazer. “I need to pick up Faisal at the house and bring him to Lamia.”

“That’s good,” he smirked. “Edi ngayon, nagkaroon ka na rin ng rason para bisitahin ang asawa mo.”

I rolled my eyes.

Ugh. Kristof and his tiny wins. Fine. I guess this time… he’s not entirely wrong.

——
ㅤ

“Faisal, ang apo ko!”

Excited na kinuha ni Tita Victoria ang anak ko nang makapasok kami sa hospital room ni Lamia. I handed Faisal to her, then walked straight to the mini table para ilapag ang diaper bag at ihanda ang mga bote.

“Kumain na po ba kayo, Ma?” tanong ko habang nagsusukat ng gatas sa bottle ni Faisal.

“Yes, I’m already done eating,” she replied cheerfully. “Pero ‘yang asawa mo, ayaw pa kumain. Gusto pa raw magpa-subo sa’yo.” sabay tawa.

Napatingin ako kay Lamia. As expected, naka-cross arms siya at nag-roll ng eyes sa sinabi ni Mama.

So siyempre, nag-roll eyes din ako pabalik nang nagkatinginan kami. Two can play this icy game.

“Mama, can you give me my son?” malamig na tugon ni Lamia.

Agad namang iniabot ni Mama si Faisal sa kanya. Umupo siya sa kama at kinandong ang anak niya calm and collected, pero halatang iritable.

“Here,” I said flatly, handing her the freshly made bottle without even sparing her a glance.

Then Mama dropped the real bomb.

“By the way, Lamia, I need to attend an important meeting at the company tonight,” she said casually. “So kung abala pa rin si Jazed mamaya at hindi siya makapunta rito, si Rani ang sasama sa’yo hanggang bukas ng umaga.”

Napag-usapan na namin ‘yon sa biyahe. But hearing it out loud, in front of Lamia, hit differently.

Her silence was louder than any argument.
I swear I felt her entire aura say, Over. My. Dead. Body.

Asawa ko siya and mother-in-law ko ang nag-request. Kaya kahit allergic ako sa drama, wala akong choice. At isa pa, hindi naman talaga kakayanin ni Lamia mag-isa dito. The doctors still aren’t allowing her to stand or walk on her own.

Pagtingin ko sa kanya, blangko ang expression niya. Typical.

Halos 30 seconds kaming nagtitigan ng matalim. I could feel her entire face screaming “Don’t you dare agree.”

I cleared my throat, calm and collected. “It’s okay, Lamia.” I said, flashing a diplomatic smile. “Besides, I don’t have any appointments until tomorrow morning. Mama said you need someone with you… and I’m willing to be that someone.”

Cue the dagger eyes.

Mas lalo pa siyang tumalim tumingin sa’kin, as if my existence personally offended her.

Then, without a word, she turned to the glass wall. Hawak-hawak niya si Faisal habang pinaglalaruan ang maliliit na kamay nito.

“Don’t be a liar, Rani.” malamig niyang saad. “You still have two meetings tonight and an early appointment tomorrow. Besides, I already messaged Dove to help me out here.”

Napasinghap ako sa inis. Excuse me?

Tumingin ako sa kanya. Where the hell did she get my schedule?

Fyi, I already cancelled those meetings.

And Dove? Really?

Dove, the sister of her ex-boyfriend Peterson. That girl’s been practically glued to Lamia for five years, ever since she became a pseudo-Al Gaddafi shadow. There are rumors, loud ones, that Lamia and Peterson are secretly back together. But me? I keep quiet. I don’t start fires I can’t put out.

At higit sa lahat, I don’t need her parents hearing about this drama.

Not yet, anyway.

“Tell Dove that Rani is already here to accompany you,” may bahid ng inis ang boses ni Mama.

The Al-Gaddafi family hates any remaining ties Lamia has with the Del Valle’s especially her grandparents from the Emirates. Kung nandito lang si Babba? Siguradong na sermon na agad ang Lamia na ‘yan.

“I told you, Mama,” sagot ni Lamia, diretso ang tingin. “She has some work to do.”

Girl, I literally just said I was free, why are you rewriting my calendar.

“Sabihin mo nga sa’kin, Lamia,” singhal ni Mama habang tumayo at pinagkrus ang mga braso niya. “Why are you still not cutting your connections with the Del Valles?”

And there it is.

Lamia lifted her chin defensive, poised, classic.

“Why would I cut my connections with them?” she said coldly.

Tumataas na ang tension sa kwarto, kaya habang nagbabangayan ang mag-ina, I quietly pulled my phone out of my pocket and fired off a quick message to my secretary to un-cancel all my appointments starting tonight until tomorrow.

If Lamia wants to pretend I’m unavailable? Let’s make that her truth.

“Because we don’t like it!” tumaas na ang tono ni Mama. “You already have a wife and a son. Are you seriously going to ruin your image like this, Lamia?!”

“Why would I ruin my image, Mama?!” sagot ni Lamia, now in fully defense mode. “Me and Dove are friends. You know that. I don’t get why you’re always attacking me about her.”

“You know why!” Mama snapped. “Your Babba and Omar are already suspicious. You cut off a friend you’ve had for eleven years, pero hindi mo magawang putulin ang connection sa kapatid ng ex mo?”

Boom. There it was. I could feel Lamia’s jaw tense from across the room.

And this? This wasn’t even the climax yet.

“I cut that bitch off because we had a problem. Period.” ani Lamia, matalim ang tingin. “Me and Dove are doing just fine. I don’t see any issue being friends with her.”

Of course she doesn’t.

Lumapit ako kay Mama, hinagod ko ang likod niya para pakalmahin. Hinawakan naman niya ang kamay ko na nakapatong sa balikat niya, habang pilit pinapakalma ang sarili.

Palagi silang nagbabanggaan mag-ina. Hindi kasi talaga madaling pakisamahan ang babaeng ‘yon. She’s the textbook definition of an alligator with heels.

“Calm down, Mama… tama na po,” mahinahon kong bulong habang patuloy ang paghaplos sa likod niya.

Ever since I married Lamia, tumataas lagi ang blood pressure ni Mama. Halos linggo-linggo na lang silang nagtatalo, obvious naman kasi na si Lamia walang pake sa kasal na ‘to.

Sa isang tabi ng kwarto, pinainom ni Lamia si Faisal ng gatas. Galit pa rin sa aura neto pero napaka soft sa anak niya.

Napatingin ako sa kanila.

She’s cute when she’s soft.

“Take a seat, Mama. Ako na po ang bahala.” sabi ko habang inaabot ang bottled water sa mini chair. “I uncancelled all my schedules tonight until tomorrow morning.”

Nagulat si Mama. Bakas ang pagka dismaya sa mukha niya.

“Rani, that’s not right,” mariin niyang sabi.

“It’s okay, Mama,” sagot ko, full smile. The kind that says I got this, kahit ayaw niya sakin.

At ayun na nga. Napansin ko ang pasimpleng smirk ni Lamia. That little smug curl of her lips that only comes out when she knows she’s winning. Of course she hates being around me. Being stuck with me is her personal hell, and trust me, she doesn’t even hide it.

I knew it even before we got married. And she’s been proving it every day since.

“Then I’ll call Jazed to cancel his appointments para siya na lang ang magbantay dito,” ani Mama, loud and clear, obviously meant for Lamia to hear.

I nearly rolled my eyes. Oh please.

“No, Mama. ‘Wag na po,” I said sweetly, handing her the newly opened bottled water. “Ako pa rin naman ang magbabantay kay Lamia dito.”

As expected, nagkunot noo si Mama. Lamia, on the other hand, shot me a death glare brows furrowed, attitude loaded.

“I thought you said you uncanceled your appointments?” Mama asked after taking a sip.

I nodded, nonchalant.

“I did. But I’m still the one who’ll take care of Lamia, since…” I turned to Lamia with a smirk, “…I’m her wife. Right?”

Cue the eye roll. Lamia let out a deep breath, obviously trying to compose herself. But no, sis, not today.

Kung feeling niya ay makakalusot siya sa attitude niya just because she’s rich, stunning, and terrifying, well guess what? So am I.

“So, Lamia…” I leaned slightly forward, voice dripping with sarcasm, “tell your beloved friend to attend my appointments.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. I smirked harder.

“If she’s really that helpful, and willing to assist you, then I’m sure she won’t mind stepping into my business shoes while your WIFE takes care of you, until tomorrow morning.”

I caught that little victorious smile from Mama, parang nanalo ng pa-bingo. No doubt she remembered what Tito Jazed told me before that. Don’t let Lamia’s attitude win.

And of course, hindi talaga ako magpapatalo.

No matter how fierce Lamia is, they didn’t marry her off to a pushover.

“Are you serious?” Lamia asked with that deadpan expression she always wears when she’s seconds away from snapping.

“You heard me,” I said with a raise of my brow. “So do it now. My first meeting starts at 7:30 PM… at my dad’s company.” I casually glanced at my watch. “And guess what? It’s already six.”

“Are you crazy?! Why would I even do that?” she snapped, her voice now laced with sharp irritation.

I stepped a little closer, voice lower more biting.
“Do it… or I’ll do it,” I said with heavy emphasis, tilting my head ever so slightly.

She gave me a sharp look and turned to Tita Victoria. “Mama? Are you hearing this girl? Do you really think this is appropriate? She’s absolutely crazy.”

“Stop talking to her like that, Lamia,” singhal ni Tita Victoria, now standing up straighter. “She’s your wife.”

Lamia clenched her jaw, her whole aura screaming rage in heels. I saw it in her eyes, the same stormy look she always gives me when she’s about to throw her infamous cold tantrums. Any minute now, she could explode.

“Just leave. I can handle myself alone,” she muttered, eyes not meeting mine.

I exhaled sharply, scoffing under my breath. I turned my head slightly, shifting my jaw left to right, classic Rani move when trying not to snap. Again? She’s doing it again.

In front of her mother. In front of mine. Again.

It’s not the first time she tried to embarrass me in front of our families. And when I say “not the first,” I mean this has become her brand.

“Lamia!” Tita Victoria shouted as she stood, her voice now thunderous. “Ganyan na ba talaga kapangit ang ugali mo? Pati asawa mo tinatrato mo na parang hindi mo kilala?!”

Dead silence followed, like the calm before a very high-budget, emotionally devastating, soap-opera-level storm.

Lamia didn’t respond. But her grip tightened on the baby bottle she was holding for Faisal.

And me?

I just stood there with my arms crossed, watching it all burn in slow motion with perfect posture and a face that said Try me, Alligator.

“Mama…” Lamia exhaled sharply and looked at Tita Victoria with forced calm. “Leave. Just… leave.”

She was clearly trying to prevent another round of shouting with her mother, and honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to witness another one either.

So, I took the hint.

I picked up my LV shoulder bag from the nearby chair with graceful precision, like the diva I’ve trained myself to be.

“I’m leaving, mama. Lamia…” I glanced her way, keeping my tone neutral. “Take care of Faisal. Everything he needs is in the bag, bottled water, milk, diapers, you name it.” I motioned to the baby bag on the mini table.

“Rani…” Tita Victoria’s soft voice called out to me, laced with worry. I turned to her and gave a small smile, a silent message that I’m okay.

“Please take care at your meeting tonight, mama,” I added politely. “I’ll head out now.”

And with that, I gracefully stepped out of Lamia’s hospital room.

As I walked down the quiet hallway, my heels echoing lightly on the tiles, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Babba would react if he found out Dove was the one staying with Lamia all night. Worse, what if no one told him? Knowing him, he might show up unannounced and witness that disaster firsthand. Then boom! another Gaddafi-level explosion waiting to happen.

“Hi, Miss Rani!” a nurse squealed from the other end of the hall, clearly giddy. She waved, and six other nurses followed suit, smiling like they were watching a celebrity walk by. Honestly? I kind of was.

I offered them a friendly smile. “Hi”

“Puwede po ba kaming magpapicture, Miss Rani?” one of them asked excitedly.

“Sure,” I replied with a soft laugh. I casually placed an arm around one of them and posed, camera-ready as always.

Click. Flash.
ㅤ
“Thank you po, Miss Rani. Ang ganda niyo po,” masayang sabi ng isang magandang nurse na may kayumangging mga mata, mata na halos kapareho ng kay Lamia.

I smiled graciously. “You’re welcome and thank you, too. What’s your name?”

“Pia po,” nahihiyang sagot niya habang iniabot ang kamay para makipag-shake hands.

“You’re welcome, Pia.” I clasped her hand with my signature charm. “Anyway, I gotta go, guys.”

Nagpaalam ako at nagsimula nang lumakad, pero hindi pa rin ako tinigilan ng mga taong bumabati, kumakaway, at nagre-request ng pictures. I was polite, of course I always am. Diva, but approachable. That’s the brand.

Hanggang sa makarating ako sa parking lot, may mga nakakasalubong pa rin akong bumabati.

“Thank you po, Ma’am!” sigaw ng dalawang babae habang kumakaway paalis.

Ngumiti na sana ako pabalik nang biglang tumunog ang phone ko. I instinctively looked down, expecting a calendar alert or maybe an update from Kristof.

But then I saw the name. Kumunot ang noo ko.

Dove Del Valle.

Lamia’s so-called best friend.
ㅤ
Dove Del Valle
Hi Rani, I know I’m a bit shameless for messaging you but I just wanted to invite you for a coffee if you have a time. I wanna talk to you about Lamia. Please consider my invitation and message back, thank you. <3

Kumurap ako ng tatlong beses.

Napansin ko na kinakagat ko na pala ang edge ng fake nail ko sa kaba. Why on earth is this girl… that girl, suddenly inviting me out for coffee?

Something’s off. And I don’t like it. I composed myself before typing.

ㅤ
Rani H. Al Gaddafi
sure. Let’s meet at 100 degrees, 7:30, don’t be late I don’t wanna waste my time.

Pagkatapos ko siyang replayan ay pumasok na ako sa aking black Ferrari at tinawagan ang secretary ko.

“Hello madam” malumanay na saad niya.
ㅤ
“Elise, I’m really sorry but I can’t attend the upcoming meeting at my dad’s company. Attend it for me, I just had an emergency” saad ko habang nagmamaneho.
ㅤ
“Wala naman pong problema saakin madam. Ok lang po ba si ma’am Lamia?” nahihiyang tanong niya.
ㅤ
ㅤAkala siguro niya may masamang nangyari kay Lamia.
ㅤ
“She’s totally fine, ibang emergency ‘to”
ㅤ
“That’s good to hear that she’s ok madam. Anyway be safe madam”
ㅤ
“yes, thank you”

Hindi kona siya hinintay na sumagot pa dahil pinatay kona ang tawag at nagpatuloy na nag drive patungo sa 100 Degrees Café, malapit lang ito sa hospital kung saan naka admit si Lamia.

ㅤ
——-
ㅤ

“Have a seat.”

Hinila ko ang upuan sa tapat niya ng dahan-dahan at umupo na parang ako ang may-ari ng buong café. I crossed my legs, leaned slightly forward, and faced her. Eye to eye.

She looked startled, parang hindi niya kinaya ‘yung presence ko. Nag-iwas siya ng tingin, like she couldn’t hold my gaze for more than a second.

Tiningnan ko pa siya nang mabuti. Maganda pala talaga siya up close. Contrary sa sinasabi ni Lameel na maputi at singkit lang daw ang puhunan niya. I mean, sure, she’s soft-looking. But now that I’m this close… may charm nga naman.

“Ah-uhm…”

Bago pa siya tuluyang makapagsalita, I cut her off with a flick of my tone.

“Akala ko babantayan mo si Lamia tonight? So bakit naisipan mo akong kitain?” I raised one brow, deadly calm, full of poise.

She swallowed and cleared her throat, almost too softly. “Rani… I just wanted to say sorry. For everything. Sa lahat ng nangyayari between you and Lamia… I know a lot of it is because of me.”

“She hates me more than I ever hated her,” I said coolly, lifting my left hand para tawagin ang waiter.

Kaagad siyang lumapit nakangiti pa, medyo kinikilig. He recognized me. Who wouldn’t?

Tinuro ko lang ang latte at strawberry cake. No words needed. Hindi ko rin alam kung bakit ko pinili ang mga ‘yun, I’m lactose intolerant.

“She really does,” mahinang tugon ni Dove, halos bulong. “And I know she’s been unfair to you. Pero noong natanggap ko na na hindi si Peterson ang pinili niya at pinakasalan. I started to like you. And honestly? I started admiring you. Not just for her… but for you.”

She gave a soft laugh, almost shy.

I didn’t react. I just looked at her blankly, one perfectly arched brow slightly lifted. Was I supposed to be touched?

“She’s actually… kind,” dagdag niya, barely audible.

“Who, si Lamia?” tanong ko, habang inaabot ang menu pabalik sa waiter.

“Yeah,” she answered softly.

I let out a short, dry laugh. “Saan banda?”

“She’s just… lost. But you? You’ve been there for her. I heard you make her breakfast before work. Na ikaw ang nag-aayos ng gamit niya. You even clean the house. Rani, you’re… everything she isn’t. And she’s lucky. Super lucky.”

Tama naman. Ako na nga halos ang gumaganap na asawa, partner, maid, emotional punching bag, and for what? Wala. Lamia doesn’t even say thank you.

“Kaya sinasabi ko lagi sa kanya… paano na siya pag nawala ka?” Napangiti siya ng konti, pero halatang pilit. “She doesn’t realize… na hindi niya kaya mag-isa. She can’t cook. She can’t clean. She can’t even fold her laundry properly. Ikaw ang nag-oorganize ng mundo niya. Without you… she’ll drown.”

I looked away.

Napapikit ako ng bahagya. Damn it. My eyes are heating up. Hindi pwede. Not in front of her. I took a deep breath and brought myself back. Smooth. Calm. Controlled.

“Bakit mo ‘to sinasabi?” tanong ko, kahit kanina lang muntik na akong maiyak.

She looked straight into my eyes no fear, just pure softness. “Because I appreciate you, Rani. And I know… people created this weird tension between us. Pero hindi ako galit. Never.”

My lips parted slightly, surprised. I wasn’t expecting sincerity. Not from her.

“I know… I know you probably hate me,” dagdag niya, mas mahina na ngayon ang boses. “And maybe I deserve it.”

Nataranta ako bigla. Her softness it didn’t feel fake.

“N-no. I don’t hate you,” I said, voice shaking for the first time. “I actually don’t.”

She smiled, small, relieved, almost grateful.

At ako?

I hate how that made my chest ache.
ㅤ
ㅤDove gave me a soft smile. “Thank you… that means more than you know.”

Napahinga ako ng malalim. I flipped my hair over one shoulder, reclaiming my composure, my image. Diva parin dapat kahit na parang gusto ko nang maiyak. But not here. Not in public.

“You’re lucky,” I said casually habang inaayos ang diamond earrings ko. “You get to walk away from all of this drama anytime. Ako? I’m stuck. With a woman who hates me, and a son na hindi ko alam kung paano ko papalakihin ng hindi sinasaktan ang sarili ko araw-araw.”

Dove’s brows furrowed with concern. “Rani…”

“Don’t,” I said, raising one hand. “I’m not saying this to gain pity. Ayoko ng awa. Gusto ko lang marinig mo, from someone who’s always expected to keep it all together, ang hirap.”

Tahimik si Dove for a moment, letting my words hang in the air like smoke.

“She’s in the hospital, aalagaan mo pa after” I added after a pause, voice lower now. “Over fatigue daw.”

“Rani, I’m really sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I should’ve reached out sooner. You’re not invisible to me. Kahit dati pa may tension tayo… I saw you. I saw how hard you tried. And I just…”

She took a deep breath, her eyes starting to glisten. “…I wish someone would fight for you the way you fight for everyone else.”

Damn.

That hit.

Bigla kong naramdaman ‘yung init sa dibdib. I looked away again, blinking hard, kasi if I cry now, it’s over. Ayokong bumigay sa harap ni Dove. Ayokong makita niya akong mahina. Ni hindi ko nga siya kilala.

“I don’t need anyone to fight for me,” I said, my voice sharp but shaky. “I’m Rani. People don’t fight for me. They expect me to survive. And I always do.”

Dove gently reached across the table, not to hold my hand thank God, I hate that but just to place hers close. Not invading. Just… there.

“I see you, Rani. That’s all I wanted to say.”

I looked at her for a long moment.

“Thank you,” I said finally. Not in a sweet, teary way. In a diva way. Classy, composed, but real. “You’re one of the very few who ever did.”

Tumango siya, eyes full of silent understanding.

Just then, dumating ‘yung latte at strawberry cake ko. I stirred the latte slowly, watching the foam swirl around like I wasn’t just breaking apart inside ten seconds ago.

“You think she’ll be okay?” I asked quietly.

Dove smiled sadly. “She will. But only if you are.”

I sipped my drink and forced a light laugh. “Then she’s doomed.”

But deep down, I knew… I wasn’t really joking.

Tahimik kami pareho after what I said. She wasn’t looking at me anymore, but I could feel her softness hanging in the air. Yung sincerity na halos nakakahiya dahil sobrang bihira ko ‘yon maramdaman from anyone.

I tapped my manicured nails on the table. Konting tunog lang, pero sapat para maibalik ulit ‘yung control sa kamay ko.

“You’re being too emotional,” I said, rolling my eyes slightly, pero hindi na kasing lakas ng tono ko kanina. “This isn’t a teleserye, Dove.”

She chuckled gently. “Maybe it’s not. Pero tao lang din tayo, Rani. Minsan kailangan natin ng kausap. Kahit hindi dramatic.”

I sipped my latte slow and poised. Like I was still above all this.

“Well, congratulations. You got me to talk. That’s a rare skill.” I raised a brow. “Dapat proud ka.”

She smiled again, soft, warm. Parang hindi ako sinungitan five minutes ago.

“It’s not my intention na kausapin ka para lang saktan ka or gawing emotional. I just wanted you to know na may nakakakita rin sayo. Hindi lang sa ganda mo, o sa image mo. Pero ‘yung totoong ikaw.”

Napatingin ako sa kanya. For a moment, I hated that she said that. Dahil totoo.

“Alam mo, Dove…” I leaned in, eyes narrowing slightly. “The thing about being seen is… it’s dangerous. Kasi once they see the real you, they either use it or pity you. And I don’t need either.”

“I’m not here to use you,” she said softly. “And I definitely don’t pity you. I admire you, actually.”

I blinked.

No one’s ever told me that. Not like that. Not without sounding plastic.

“You’re a mother to a child na halos ikaw lang ang bumubuhay emotionally. You’re in a marriage na walang warmth. You’re living under the spotlight where everyone expects perfection yet you still show up. Dressed. Glowing. Fierce. Like nothing can touch you.”

She looked me straight in the eyes, and for a moment, I almost looked away.

“But I know you’re tired.”

Parang may something sa dibdib ko na nabigla. Hindi ko alam kung sakit ba ‘yon, o takot. I leaned back, crossed my legs again, clutching my latte a little tighter.

“Lamia’s in the hospital now. And everyone’s worried. Pero wala ni isa sa kanila ang nagtanong how you’re holding up. I mean, ikaw ‘tong kasama niya sa bahay, ikaw ‘tong nag-aalaga sa anak niyo, ikaw ‘tong pinapasan lahat… and no one asked how you’re doing.”

She shook her head, parang hindi niya ma-tanggap.

“That’s not fair.”

Tahimik ako.

I tried to think of something bitchy to say. Something cold. Something to deflect.

But all I said was,

“I don’t even know how I’m doing anymore.”

There it was.

The crack.

Dove nodded gently. “It’s okay not to be okay, Rani. Kahit pa ang alam ng lahat ay diva ka.”

Napatawa ako, bitter and breathy. “Ugh. Don’t say that like it’s a superpower.”

“It kinda is.” She smiled. “Pero kahit ang mga superwoman… kailangan din ng pahinga.”

I looked at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, I reached into the baby bag and pulled out my phone. Dozens of missed calls. Media inquiries. A text from Lamia’s assistant saying “Ma’am, do you want to release a statement about Lamia’s condition?”

I stared at it.

“Everyone’s worried about Lamia,” I murmured. “But no one thinks about how hard it is to love someone who doesn’t love you back.”

Dove looked like she wanted to say something… but stopped herself.

Instead, she just said

“You deserve more, Rani. You really do.”

I didn’t respond.

“I know.”

I didn’t say anything else after Dove’s last words. I just stood up, slow and composed, like I wasn’t on the verge of unraveling ten minutes ago. I left half of my latté on the table, the strawberry cake untouched. I didn’t bother looking back.

I could feel her eyes on me as I walked away. Soft, hesitant. The kind of look people give when they see a crack but aren’t sure if they should mention it.

She didn’t follow me. Good. I wouldn’t have known what to do if she had.

The second I stepped outside, I exhaled and slid into the back of my car.

I checked my phone. Meetings. Emails. PR briefings. A message from Lamia’s assistant asking if I wanted to release a statement about her hospitalization. I didn’t respond.

When we reached the building, I walked through the lobby like I didn’t just have a breakdown in soft focus. Heads turned naturally. I was dressed to kill, hair still perfect, lips still lined in that signature blood-red that said I was too tired for questions.

No one ever asks how I’m doing. They ask how Lamia is. How Faisal is. How the business is doing. But me? I’m a fixture. I’m not supposed to bend, let alone break.

The receptionist smiled nervously as I passed. I didn’t smile back. Not out of rudeness, just exhaustion. Of course, it looked like confidence. It always does.

I took the elevator to the top floor, reviewing the slides on my phone. My assistant was already waiting by the doors when they opened, handing me the final deck without a word. She knew the drill.

I entered the boardroom like it was a runway. Because in a way, it is. Everything is a performance when you’re me. Every room, every meeting, every glance, it all demands perfection.

And no one’s better at delivering that than I am.

I stood at the head of the table. Back straight. Chin high. Composed. Radiant.

No one would ever guess that I cried this morning in the nursery. That my wife hasn’t looked me in the eyes in weeks. That I feel like a ghost in my own home.

But none of that mattered here.

Because in this room, I wasn’t a neglected wife. I wasn’t a tired mother. I wasn’t the woman holding a marriage together with her bare hands.

I was Rani Hidalgo.

And queens don’t fall apart.