Chapter 24

Rani’s Point Of View

The faint golden light of dawn had just started to bleed through the curtains when I opened my eyes, my body still heavy with sleep. I didn’t know what time it was, but something in me stirred, an instinct maybe. I blinked up at the ceiling, then slowly turned my head.

Lamia.

She was still there, lying on her side, her hair messy on the pillow, one hand curled gently beneath her chin. I didn’t move right away. I just stared at her, quiet, taking in the softness of her face that only ever showed itself when she slept. No sharp tongue, no guarded stare. Just… a woman.

I shifted closer without thinking, careful not to wake her, and pressed the back of my hand to her forehead.

Warm. Not burning. Just warm.

Thank God.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

The fever broke.

Finally.

I sat up, the sheets rustling behind me, and pulled myself out of bed. No need to cancel meetings. No more emergencies. She was okay now. Lamia was okay.

I padded across the room and grabbed my robe, tying it loosely around my waist as I moved into the bathroom. The floor was cold beneath my feet, the mirror foggy from the early morning chill. I turned on the shower, steam curling into the air almost immediately. It smelled faintly of lavender and peppermint from the bath oil I always kept on the shelf. My signature.

As I stepped under the stream of hot water, I let it wash everything away, the tension in my shoulders, the restless sleep, the worries from last night. I stood there a few moments longer than usual, just letting the heat settle into my skin.

Today’s schedule would be full. Elise already emailed me last night to confirm the appointments, site inspections, a client luncheon, two investor calls. Nothing I couldn’t handle.

And now that Lamia was out of danger, there was no excuse to slow down.

I dressed quickly in one of my sharpest navy-blue suits and paired it with black heels. Classic. Clean. Powerful. Diva, always. I ran a comb through my hair and put on a soft rouge lip. By the time I walked out of the bathroom, the room smelled faintly of soap and perfume, and Lamia was still asleep, her breathing light and even.

Good. She needed the rest.

I walked over to the nightstand, grabbed my handbag and phone, and checked my notifications. A few unread messages from Elise. One missed call from Queen. And one calendar alert blinking on my screen,

Investor luncheon – 12:00 PM, Astoria Plaza.

I turned it off with a swipe.

Before leaving, I glanced at Lamia one last time. She shifted slightly, curling in a little tighter under the blanket. Her cheeks had color again. That dull, sickly pallor from last night was gone.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. I just stepped out of the room and closed the door quietly behind me.

Back to reality. Back to work.

But somehow, something in my chest felt just a little lighter.

I made my way down the hallway, the quiet hum of the early morning settling into the bones of the penthouse. Manang Sally was already in the kitchen, chopping onions with her usual rhythm, humming an old kundiman softly under her breath. She looked up the moment she heard my heels against the floor.

“Ma’am Rani,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Kumusta na po si Ma’am Lamia?”

I poured myself a small glass of orange juice from the fridge and sipped. “Her fever broke. She’s still asleep.”

Manang Sally’s face softened with relief. “Aba, buti naman po. Akala ko kanina baka kailangan ng dalhin sa ospital. Ang taas ng lagnat kagabi.”

I nodded once, setting the glass down with a quiet clink. “I’ve already cancelled everything yesterday. I’m going to work today.”

“Gusto niyo po ba magluto ako ng salmon o bacon? Para may kainin po kayo bago umalis.”

“Thank you, Manang. Just a soft-boiled egg and some toast will do. I don’t want to be late.”

She nodded and quickly moved to the stove while I checked my phone again. Elise had just confirmed my car was ready downstairs.

Five minutes later, with my breakfast on a small white plate and coffee in hand, I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room. The sun was finally rising in full glory over the BGC skyline, casting golden light over the city like a silent promise. The streets were starting to move, just like I needed to.

After finishing my meal, I walked back upstairs to our room quietly. I opened the door slowly, only to find Lamia still curled up under the blanket, undisturbed.

A tiny part of me almost walked over and tucked her hair behind her ear. But I didn’t. I just stood there for a moment.

There was something heavy, and yet… not painful, sitting on my chest. I didn’t understand it fully.

I just knew this… I wasn’t ready to talk. I wasn’t ready to forgive. And I definitely wasn’t ready to be soft. But after everything last night, after her shivering body and whispered “Happy anniversary,” something was shifting.

She was still asleep. I turned and walked away.

——

By 7:15 AM, I was in my car.

Elise was already updating me through Bluetooth on the way to the office. “Ma’am, your 9AM site engineer meeting has been moved to 10AM po. But the Astoria lunch with the investment partners is still confirmed.”

I sat back, staring out the window as the skyline passed by. “Alright. Keep me posted. No room for delays today.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Also, should I send a thank-you note to the sponsors of the birthday packages for baby Faisal?”

I blinked. “Right. Yes, do that. And send the updated guest list to my mom. She wants final names before she prints the invites.”

“Copy, Ma’am.”

I ended the call and looked out the window again. The streets were busy now, but all I could think about was Lamia’s face last last night… pale, weak.

I turned my head, stared at my reflection in the tinted window.

Whatever we were… whatever we weren’t… we still had to make it work.

For Faisal.

And maybe, just maybe, for something else neither of us could name yet.

By the time my car turned into the private basement parking of Rani Paragon Enterprises, I had already shifted back into full CEO mode.

Gone was the warmth of last night’s domestic flicker, buried under layers of lipstick, a power suit, and the glint of my silver stiletto heels. My assistant Elise greeted me the moment the elevator opened at the top floor, holding a tablet in one hand and a printed contract folder in the other, walking briskly beside me as I moved through the hall.

“Ma’am, sir Architect Lim naghihintay na po sa conference room. The marketing department has submitted the revised campaign drafts. And the materials for the new site proposal in Makati have been signed by legal.”

I nodded, flipping through the folder she handed me. “Send the Makati files to Mr. Tolentino’s office for countersignature. I’ll handle Architect Lim myself.”

“Yes, Ma’am. And also… flowers arrived again this morning.”

I stopped walking for a second. “Don’t tell me…”

“Galing po sa Al-Gaddafi Oil and Gas Ventures,” Elise replied quickly, a note of amused exhaustion in her voice. “Orchids.”

I rolled my eyes but kept walking. “Put them in the conference room. Maybe Architect Lim can enjoy the scent while I decide whether I’ll bother keeping them.”

Elise stifled a grin behind her tablet. “Copy, Ma’am.”

But the truth was… I already knew what they looked like.

Every day, it was the same, impeccably chosen, always in white, always with a card. I never read the cards. At least not with Elise watching. But each one was a whisper I didn’t know how to answer yet. A reminder of Lamia’s quiet persistence. Her way of showing up, even when I had every reason to push her away.

We started the meeting with Architect Lim. It was smooth. Precise. My world. In here, there was no chaos, no confusing feelings. Just numbers, concrete, steel, design, and my name on the blueprints.

——

By afternoon, I was staring out the window of my office with a sandwich half-eaten on my desk. I didn’t have much appetite, even though I knew I needed fuel. My phone buzzed beside me.

A photo from Nina. It was Faisal, seated on his tiny playmat in the nursery, holding one of his plush lions upside down.

I smiled.

Then, seconds later, another photo followed.

This time, it was Lamia. She was out of bed, wearing one of my oversized hoodies again and holding Faisal in her lap, her hair still damp from what looked like a recent shower. Her eyes looked clearer today, cheeks no longer flushed in fever. There was a blanket wrapped around both of them.

Nina Santos
Magaling na po ang pasyento niyo Ma’am.

I stared at the image for a moment longer than necessary, thumb lingering on the screen.

I didn’t reply.

Not yet.

Instead, I leaned back into my leather chair, heels kicking off under my desk. My head tilted back.

One more meeting.

One more project.

And then maybe, just maybe, I’d go home early tonight.

For Faisal.

And maybe… for her, too.

By four in the afternoon, I was pacing through the last leg of my back-to-back meetings, my voice sharp, polished, and commanding in the boardroom. The engineers nodded in sync as I finalized the budget cuts, and the creative director didn’t dare breathe when I pointed out the inconsistencies in the branding proposal.

“Fix the mockups. Re-align with the original color scheme. And don’t ever hand me something you wouldn’t present to an intern,” I said, snapping the folder closed.

“Yes, Ma’am,” the poor man muttered, bowing slightly before scurrying out with his tail between his legs.

Elise followed me with a tablet in hand. “You’re clear after this, Ma’am. Do you want to head to the BGC site to check the cladding…”

“No,” I interrupted, slipping into my private office with that same sharp click of my heels. “Clear my evening. I’m done.”

Elise raised her brows slightly. “Noted, Ma’am. Car will be ready at five.”

As soon as I was alone, I walked to the orchids still sitting on my desk. Today’s bouquet had been moved to the window sill, basking in soft light. My hand reached for the card… I hadn’t opened it this morning.

It was always the same handwriting. Clean, tall script. Lamia’s handwriting.

I know I’ve made too many wrong turns… but if loving you and Faisal is the only thing I get right for the rest of my life, then maybe that’s enough. Happy anniversary again, Rani.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and quietly placed the card back into the petals. She was getting better with words. Softer. Less proud. Still so much of a diva, because of course she had to send orchids every single day, but there was something in her tone lately that disarmed me.

Maybe because… she’d stopped trying to make me forget.

And instead, she was trying to make me feel.

——

By 6:10 PM, I stepped into the elevator of Penthouse, exhausted and hungry. I had loosened the first two buttons of my blouse, let my curls fall over my shoulders, and carried with me a brown paper bag of pastries from a patisserie that Lamia liked, one she once dramatically declared “served the only croissant worthy of her existence.”

The penthouse was quiet when I entered. Not dark, not cold… just quiet. That kind of soft calm you feel when the world outside is chaos but somehow, inside your walls, you’re… okay.

From the corner of the living room, I heard soft baby giggles. I walked toward the sound, setting the paper bag down gently on the marble console.

There she was.

Lamia sat cross-legged on the thick carpet, barefoot, wearing a white hoodie that was definitely mine, her long lashes casting shadows under her eyes. She looked tired, but not sick anymore. Her cheeks had color again.

Faisal was lying on her legs, cradled in her arms, arms flailing as he babbled nonsense words. She made a silly face at him, and he erupted into squeals.

She hadn’t even noticed me yet.

My heart twisted.

Just as I took a step forward, she looked up, and smiled. That smile. The one that wasn’t proud. The one that wasn’t forced. Just… real.

“You’re home,” she said simply.

“I told you I’d be,” I replied, brushing my hair over one shoulder. “Didn’t think you’d be up.”

She laughed softly, lifting Faisal in her arms. “He needed his playtime.”

“Did you eat?” I asked, slipping out of my shoes and crossing the room to sit beside her.

“I did,” she said. “Manang Sally made more sopas. I swear, if she makes it again tomorrow, I’m naming the baby soup.”

“You already named the baby Faisal,” I said, raising a brow.

“Fine. Faisal Sopas Hidalgo Al-Gaddafi. It rolls off the tongue.”

We both laughed. A soft, exhausted, familiar kind of laugh. It startled me how natural it felt.

“Come on,” I finally said, rising to my feet. “Let’s go to bed. You need more rest.”

“I’m okay now,” she insisted. “I want to be awake when you’re home.”

I rolled my eyes but offered my hand. “Just come on, drama queen.”

She stood, balancing Faisal in her arms, and followed me into the bedroom.

The three of us curled together in the center of the bed. Lamia propped herself on a few pillows, and I rested my hand on Faisal’s belly, feeling his tiny inhales rise and fall beneath my palm.

——

The next morning at 6:14 AM

The first thing I felt was warmth. A different kind. Not the blanket, not the temperature, not the filtered golden sunlight slipping through the edges of the blackout curtains.

It was the feeling of a hand, soft, unmoving, resting on top of mine.

My eyes fluttered open slowly, still heavy from sleep. The room was bathed in a pale hush, everything still. I turned my head to the side and saw Lamia’s face.

Her mouth was slightly parted in sleep, lashes fanned over her cheeks. Her other hand was curled around Faisal’s blanket, which he had kicked off, as usual. He was still between us, on his back, with his tiny arm slung over Lamia’s wrist and his toes curled. His lips were moving slightly, probably dreaming of mashed carrots or his rubber giraffe.

For a moment, I stayed still. Watching them.

It was ridiculous, really. How peaceful they looked. How whole this bed felt right now.

I gently slipped my hand from under Lamia’s and sat up slowly, careful not to disturb either of them. I rubbed my face, running my fingers through my slightly tangled hair, then glanced at the time on my phone. 6:14 AM.

There was already an email from Elise timestamped at 5:53, her usual daily update, today’s meetings, one postponed lunch, and two contracts I had to sign.

But I didn’t open the attachments.

Instead, I stood up and walked across the room, pulling my robe tighter as I stepped into the ensuite bathroom. I splashed cool water on my face, brushing my teeth while I stared at my reflection. My eyes were still rimmed with sleep, but my skin looked better today. Less pale.

Maybe… because I actually slept.

Maybe because I didn’t fall asleep alone.

I took my time in the bath, letting the warm water relax every part of me that felt tense. Then, after drying my hair and wrapping it in a clip, I slipped into beige slacks and a silky deep olive blouse. I kept my makeup minimal today. Just brows, a little mascara, lipstick. Enough to look polished but soft.

When I stepped back into the bedroom, the bed was still warm, and Lamia had now rolled over onto her side, hugging a pillow in place of our son, who was, of course, no longer in bed.

I followed the sound of soft babbling.

Faisal was already in the nursery with Nina, sitting up in his crib and chewing on his sock. I walked over, picked him up, and kissed the side of his soft chubby cheek.

“Darling, that’s not what socks are for,” I said under my breath, cradling him to my chest.

He gurgled like he disagreed.

I smiled as I brought him back into our room. I paused at the doorframe, staring at Lamia. She was stirring now, blinking awake slowly, eyes adjusting.

“Good morning,” I said softly.

Lamia propped herself up on her elbows, voice still raspy. “You’re dressed already?”

“Meeting at 9,” I replied, bouncing Faisal slightly in my arms. “Figured I’d get ahead of traffic.”

She sat all the way up now, pushing her hair away from her face. She was still pale, but better. “Did you sleep well?”

I stared at her for a second before nodding. “Yeah. Surprisingly.”

Her eyes flicked down to Faisal. “He kept moving. He kicked me.”

“He kicks everyone,” I said, smirking as I handed her our son. “He’s his mother’s son. Violent.”

Lamia chuckled as she cuddled Faisal against her chest. “If he starts throwing phones, you’ll know who he takes after.”

I ignored that comment and turned to grab my bag.

Before I could leave, Lamia spoke again, quietly, but clearly. “Thank you.”

I turned slightly, lifting a brow. “For what?”

“For taking care of me,” she murmured, eyes focused on Faisal’s tiny fingers now playing with her hoodie string. “For staying.”

I didn’t answer right away. I just held her gaze for a moment longer than usual. Then I glanced at the clock.

“I’ll be home by dinner,” I said.

“You want me to cook?” she teased, raising a brow.

I scoffed. “No, thank you. I’d like to survive the night.”

Her laugh followed me as I walked out the door. And even as the elevator doors closed behind me, I couldn’t help but let a small smile slip across my face.

Maybe… just maybe… we were finally learning how to live in the same story. Not as strangers. Not as enemies.

But as something that might become family.

——

It was a quiet morning in my office, the kind that used to calm me. I had just finished my third black coffee and was going through the initial sketches for our newest estate project in Tagaytay when the door creaked open without a knock.

“Elise,” I called without looking up, eyes still skimming the blueprints. “If that’s another request for a meeting with that Makati councilor, I told you to schedule it next week…”

“It’s not Elise.”

That voice.

Smooth. Male. Familiar.

I slowly raised my head, and sure enough, Damian Alonzo was standing in my office door, dressed in his usual expensive gray suit and annoyingly charming grin, carrying a bouquet of white lilies and royal blue hydrangeas.

“I come in peace,” he said, closing the door gently behind him.

I didn’t answer. Just stared at him blankly while I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms.

Damian cleared his throat and stepped forward. “These are for you.”

I looked at the bouquet. Then at him. “You know you’re not allowed in here without clearance.”

He gave a sheepish shrug, placing the bouquet on the small coffee table across my desk. “I pulled some strings. Your security still thinks I’m part of the investor board.”

“And that’s exactly why I told Elise to change the access list.”

“I didn’t come here to harass you,” he said, both hands in his pockets now, trying to look innocent. “I came to say sorry. About last time. About what I said… about Lamia.”

My gaze narrowed instantly. The moment replayed in my head, him calling her names, mocking her effort, throwing low blows about her past when he had no right.

“You were out of line,” I said firmly. “I don’t care how long your crush has lasted. You don’t get to come into my space, hand me flowers, and insult my wife.”

Damian nodded, looking genuinely guilty. “I know. That’s why I’m here. To apologize. That wasn’t me at my best. I was jealous. And stupid.”

I exhaled slowly and stood up, walking around my desk to face him more directly. “You were stupid.”

He winced a little, but nodded again. “Fair.”

I crossed my arms. “You think I’m flattered by these grand gestures? That I’ll melt every time you appear with imported flowers and sad puppy eyes?”

“No,” he replied, his voice gentler now. “I know you’re not that kind of woman, Rani. I’ve always known that.”

I looked away, lips tight. “Then stop treating me like I am.”

There was a long silence between us. He looked at me, not as some prize to be won, but like someone he finally understood was never his to begin with.

“I just…” he said, voice soft, “I see the way you carry everything. The company. The house. The marriage. And I know it hasn’t been easy.”

My gaze snapped back to his.

“And I wish it were me,” he confessed, eyes lowering. “I wish I could’ve been the one beside you in this life. But I’m not. And I never will be.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. For a second, just a second, I remembered the Rani who might have cared for that honesty. The version of me before everything.

But that Rani wasn’t here anymore.

I stood straighter. “You were never in the running, Damian.”

He smiled sadly, nodding. “I know.”

“I’m married,” I said plainly. “Still married. And even if everything is… complicated, I still wear this ring for a reason.”

“I understand,” he whispered.

“Good,” I said, brushing past him toward the door. “Because if you disrespect Lamia again, we’re done even as business contacts.”

He gave a slow nod. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Take your flowers,” I added over my shoulder.

“I’ll leave them,” he said gently, placing them back down. “They’re not for flirting today. They’re just… peace offerings.”

I didn’t stop him when he turned and walked away. Didn’t speak when the door clicked closed behind him.

But I stood still for a moment, staring at the bouquet.
I couldn’t even smell the lilies anymore.

All I could think about was the flowers that arrived at 4 AM in Santa Rosa. The ones that probably weren’t imported or arranged by a designer. But they had a note.

A note I still hadn’t read.

And that silence between me and Lamia?
It was no longer empty.
It was filled with the weight of things unspoken… and things slowly, painfully being rebuilt.

I turned back to my desk and took a long, steadying breath.
Then got back to work.

I had just sat back down at my desk, still trying to calm the noise Damian had left in my head, when I heard the familiar, fast clack of designer loafers storming through the hallway, louder than stilettos and twice as dramatic. Then the door flew open.

“Bakla!” Kristof’s voice came crashing into the room before he did. “You will not believe what I just saw downstairs! That Damian… yes, that Damian, strutting out of your building like he just had a private tour of your heart. May I ask? What the actual hell?”

I blinked, leaned my chin into my palm, and gave him the driest look I could muster. “Why are you always so dramatic in the mornings?”

Kristof, in a crisp ivory suit with his signature gold-rimmed glasses hanging low on his nose, flopped onto the chair in front of me like a man carrying the weight of the world, and the latest gossip. “Don’t try to change the subject. Spill. Was he here to confess his undying love again? Beg for a second chance that never existed? Or was he just here for a cameo in the telenovela that is your life?”

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “He came to apologize.”

Kristof blinked. “Apologize? Sayo? Kay Lamia? Sa universe?”

“To me,” I said. “About the way he acted the last time. He brought flowers again.”

Kristof scoffed. “God, does he think flowers are cheat codes to forgiveness now? What is this, a dating sim?”

“He actually didn’t flirt this time,” I admitted. “He was calm. Sincere, even.”

Kristof narrowed his eyes and leaned forward like a tita trying to smell chismis. “Are we talking about the same Damian? Tall, handsome, good teeth, rich, still thinks he can conquer you like it’s 2010?”

“That’s the one,” I muttered.

“And you?” he asked with an arched brow. “You shut him down, right? Please tell me you told him to take his bouquet and shove it into his emotional unavailability.”

I gave him a tiny smirk. “I told him I’m married. And I reminded him that I still wear this ring for a reason.”

Kristof clutched his chest. “Ay, Diyos ko. Say it again.”

“I still wear this ring for a reason,” I repeated with more edge.

He clapped like a proud stage mother. “That’s my girl. My diva. The legend. The wife.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be annoying.”

“I live to be annoying. It’s my cardio,” he replied with a wink. “But seriously, Rani, I’m proud of you. I know things have been… hard.”

My expression softened. I looked at him, really looked at him, and I think he saw past the layers I was still trying to keep intact.

“I didn’t even realize 2 days ago that it was our anniversary,” I whispered.

Kristof’s expression changed, less glitter, more real. “It’s okay to forget. It’s okay to feel everything all at once. It’s okay not to have a Pinterest-perfect marriage, Rani.”

“I know.” My voice cracked a little. “It’s just… Lamia was in Santa Rosa. She waited for me, in the rain. From one p.m. to six.”

Kristof sat quietly, processing that.

“She had paper bags with her. God knows what was inside. Probably something stupid and thoughtful,” I added, almost bitterly. “And I wasn’t there. I forgot. I was too busy…”

“…Being a CEO. Being a mom. Being a woman with a past and a future,” he interrupted softly. “You’re allowed to be human, Rani.”

I looked down at the flowers Damian left on the table.
They didn’t look as fresh anymore.
Not compared to the ones Lamia sent before sunrise.

“Have you talked to Lamia?” he asked.

“She was burning in fever when I got home. I even canceled all my schedules the next day for her. I even fed her sopas,” I muttered, like that was the most humiliating domestic thing I’d ever done.

Kristof gasped. “You? With your flawless nails and your Bvlgari bracelet? Feeding your wife with a spoon?”

“Shut up,” I groaned, but I was smiling.

“You love her,” he said simply.

I looked away. “It’s not that simple.”

“But you do.”

I didn’t answer.

Kristof stood and leaned over my desk, poking my shoulder. “Go home early today. You don’t need to play tough all the time.”

“I’ve got site reports to review. And a lunch meeting.”

“You’re not a machine, Rani. You’re a woman. A wife. A mother. And right now, I think your wife needs a little bit of your diva energy. Preferably without the stilettos this time.”

I looked up at him with a small, defeated smile. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think fast,” he said, walking to the door. “Because love waits… but not forever.”

And with that, he gave me a final wink and vanished into the hallway, his perfume trailing behind like expensive glitter in the air.

——

At 6:47 PM

I was tired. No, exhausted. My feet were aching from walking in five-inch heels since morning, my temples had been throbbing since the second meeting, and my phone had vibrated with more messages than I cared to open. The world of real estate was relentless, especially in the final quarter, and I had fought with engineers, negotiated with two interior architects, and smiled through a coffee meeting with a very touchy investor who clearly had no concept of personal space.

But all I could think of… was home.

The penthouse. Faisal. Lamia.

That last name still surprised me when it popped into my thoughts like that. Lamia.

She had been doing too much lately, sick or not. Sending flowers. Waiting in the rain. Whispering Happy Anniversary like her heart was still intact. And I… I hadn’t even remembered the date until my phone told me.

I sighed and leaned against the car window as the city lights of BGC glimmered in soft gold and violet outside. The driver took the curve gently, and within five minutes, we were pulling into the underground parking lot of our building.

I straightened my posture, grabbed my bag, and walked toward the elevator.

The metal doors closed in front of me with a soft ding, and I found myself checking my reflection. Still neat. My lipstick barely smudged, the blouse a little wrinkled from movement, but still chic. Still me. Still the Rani Hidalgo who refused to fall apart no matter what.

The elevator reached the penthouse level, and when I stepped out, I felt it instantly. The difference. The warmth. The subtle smell of something cooking, ginger, garlic, and maybe sampalok.

The lights inside were soft, and Manang Sally’s voice drifted from the kitchen as she talked to Anna about the groceries.

Then I heard it.

Laughter. High-pitched, baby laughter. Faisal.

I walked toward the living room and saw Lamia sitting cross-legged on the carpet, wearing one of my old university hoodies, her curls damp from a fresh bath, and Faisal in front of her, giggling as she wiggled a stuffed bunny in front of his face.

She looked up when she noticed me… and smiled.

“You’re home,” she said gently, like it was something she’d waited all day to say.

I dropped my bag on the side table and stepped out of my heels. “Yes, I’m home.”

“Rough day?” she asked, reaching out to take Faisal who had now crawled toward my feet.

“You don’t even know.” I bent down and picked up our son, kissing his forehead before cradling him against my hip. “But I survived.”

“I’m glad,” Lamia said as she slowly stood up. “We waited for you. Dinner’s ready.”

“I could kiss Manang Sally if she made lugaw again.”

Lamia smirked. “She made sinigang. Your favorite. I told her you’d be tired.”

I glanced at her, surprised. “You remembered?”

She only shrugged, walking ahead of me toward the dining area. “You complain every time it’s not sinigang. It wasn’t hard.”

Dinner was warm, the conversation light. Lamia mostly fed Faisal mashed squash and tiny pieces of soft rice while I told her the short version of my day. She nodded and laughed at the right parts, didn’t press too hard when I glossed over the bad moments.

There was a comfortable silence as we finished our food. A silence that didn’t feel awkward anymore.

Later, after dinner, we cleaned up together. I dried the dishes while Lamia rinsed them. It was simple, ordinary. Yet strangely grounding.

By 8:45, Faisal was already asleep in his crib, and the penthouse felt still again.

I changed into a satin robe and stepped into our shared room. Lamia was already in bed, propped up with pillows, flipping through something on her tablet.

“You’re not sleeping yet?” I asked, placing my phone on the nightstand.

“Just finishing something for the board tomorrow,” she said. “Do you want the lights off?”

I shook my head and slipped under the covers. “Leave one on.”

She didn’t respond, but a few seconds later, I felt her shift beside me, her fingers brushing against my wrist.

“I know I haven’t earned it yet,” she murmured, “but thank you for today.”

I turned to her. “You were just… being decent.”

Her eyes met mine. “That’s more than I used to be, right?”

I didn’t respond. Not directly. I just reached for the blanket and pulled it higher up her shoulder.

“Good night, Lamia.”

She smiled. “Good night, Rani.”

And somehow, for the first time in a long time…

I didn’t feel like we were pretending.