Wendy stared at her reflection, unsure who was looking back.
The gown clung to her like a secret she didn't want to tell—a navy blue silhouette against her dusky skin, delicate earrings brushing her collarbone. Her hair was swept into a soft chignon, revealing the nape of her neck, vulnerable and exposed.
"Why am I doing this?," she whispered.
"Because he invited you. Because maybe… part of you still hoped," she further added at the back of her mind.
When the black Toyota Vios arrived to fetch her, she inhaled sharply, gathered her pride and stepped into a night that would undo her.
The Rivera-Yulo Gala was held at a glass-walled ballroom of Okada Manila glittering with city lights and shallow pleasantries. Everything sparkled like gold—crystal chandeliers, champagne towers, and sequined smiles.
Wendy stepped through the entrance alone. Eyes followed her, curious and calculating.
Then—
"Wendy."
She turned.
Liam. In a sharp black tux, tie slightly loose, like formality didn't quite fit him. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, the noise faded.
"I wasn't sure you'd come," he said.
"I wasn't sure either."
A beat of silence.
"You look… beautiful."
"Thanks." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You're quite the dashing gentleman, Mr. Rivera."
He chuckled under his breath, but his gaze lingered on her, searching—perhaps for what he lost or what he never truly had. They stood inches apart, yet an entire world stretched between them.
A hush fell. The ballroom lights dimmed. Spotlights gleamed on the stage.
Arnulfo Rivera took the microphone, joined by Mr. Theodore Yulo, Ricci's father. The families stood united, regal and rehearsed.
Wendy's fingers curled tightly around her clutch.
"Tonight," Arnulfo began, "marks not just the union of two empires—but the beginning of a legacy."
She didn't like the sound of that.
"And so, we are honored to announce the engagement of my son, Liam Rivera… and Miss Ricci Dawnielle Yulo."
Silence.
Then applause. Flashbulbs. Gasps and gasps and gasps.
But Wendy heard nothing. Just the roaring in her ears.
She turned her eyes slowly toward Liam.
He wasn't clapping. His jaw was tight, eyes unreadable. But he stood still.
He didn't deny it. But later, he joined his father in a lucrative smile.
Wendy's breath caught in her throat. The world blurred. Her heels moved faster than her thoughts.
She escaped the ballroom, heart shattering with each step. Liam from afar can see it and feels the blitzkrieg from within.
The night air was colder on the balcony.
She gripped the marble railing, trying to breathe through the ache. Her vision blurred—not from tears, but from the war raging inside her.
"He didn't even look at me," she whispered. "Not once."
She didn't hear the footsteps until—
"Wen."
She turned. It's Jace.
Wearing no mask, no pretense—just concern.
"I saw you leave. Are you okay?" he asked gently.
"No." Her voice cracked. "But I will be."
He walked toward her, hands in his pockets. For a moment, they just stood in silence, staring at the skyline.
"You don't deserve this," he said. "You never did."
Wendy closed her eyes. "I should've known. I was foolish to think…"
"You weren't foolish. You were brave." He exhaled. "But, Wendy—if you let him break you again, that's on you."
She looked at him, startled.
And then, he pulled a small velvet box from his coat.
Her breath hitched.
"I've loved you quietly, patiently. I stood back because I wanted you to choose me freely."
He opened the box.
The ring was simple, classic. Like the kind of love that didn't need grand gestures to be real.
"Say yes. Not out of escape, not out of pain—but because deep down, you know I'll never let you face this world alone."
Tears fell. For Liam. For herself. For everything she couldn't fix.
And still—she couldn't answer.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He nodded. Not angry. Just… waiting still.
Three days later, Wendy sat by the sea in Antique.
The wind tugged at her hair as the horizon turned gold. Waves broke softly against the shore like whispered apologies.
Her slippers rested beside her. Toes buried in the cool sand. Home never changed—but she had.
She thought of Liam's silence. Ricci's smirk. Jace's quiet love.
What was she to them? A mistake? A choice? A placeholder?
"Maybe… I need to be my own answer," she murmured to the sea.
And as the tide came in, Wendy let herself cry—not for Liam, not for Jace—but for the girl who gave too much and never asked for anything back.
Tomorrow, she would start again.
But tonight, she was just Wendy—broken, breathing and still here.
The mornings in Antique were slow and sacred.
Wendy woke to the scent of kape barako brewing in the kitchen and the rustle of banana trees outside her window. Her mother was always humming a folk song, her aunt whistling while sweeping the yard. Her younger siblings filled the air with laughter and loud music that didn't match the province's quiet rhythm.
For the first time in months, Wendy wasn't expected to be anyone's assistant or a polished version of herself. She was simply Ate Wen again—barefoot, in shorts, hair in a loose braid, holding a mug with chipped edges and memories too strong to replace.
But the ache was still there.
Sometimes she'd catch herself staring into nothing, remembering the moment Liam said nothing while someone else announced his engagement. It wasn't just betrayal—it was erasure. She had meant nothing in that moment. And that truth clung to her more tightly than any goodbye.
One morning, while helping her mother tend to the garden, a motorcycle hummed into the yard. Her brother Carlo raised an eyebrow. Her mother looked over her shoulder, surprised.
Wendy's heart already knew.
Jace is finally here.
He stepped off, dusty from travel but smiling gently, holding a woven bag full of native chocolate and dried mangoes.
"I thought you could use some company," he said.
She didn't move at first. Then she let out a small breath—and smiled.
"About time."
They talked on the porch as the sun dipped low. Jace didn't rush her. He never did.
"You look better," he said softly.
"I feel better. Still not whole, but… getting there."
He nodded. "You don't have to be whole to be loved, you know."
She blinked. The words touched something she'd buried long ago.
That night, he stayed for dinner. Carlo grilled some fish, her mother cooked sinigang and her siblings teased them mercilessly.
"Kuya Jace, are you sure about Ate Wen? She's grumpy when she's hungry," her youngest sister joked.
"Good thing I bring snacks everywhere," he answered with a wink, and the table erupted in laughter.
The next morning, Jace met her by the shore again—where it all began.
This time, he didn't bring a ring. Just his presence. Steady. Open.
"Wendy."
She turned to him, the wind combing through her hair.
"I still love you," he said. "Nothing's changed for me. But if saying yes still feels like a burden, I'll let go."
Wendy looked into his eyes, no longer running from herself.
She didn't cry this time. She just took his hand.
"I'm saying yes," she said quietly. "Not out of sadness. Not to forget Liam. But because you stayed. Because I choose peace now. I choose you."
The following weeks were a flurry of joy.
Both families met, sitting on long tables under mango trees, surrounded by food and laughter and elders recited advices like poetry. There was no grandeur—just sincerity.
Plans formed fast. A church was booked, invites hand-written, and February—the month of hearts—was picked without hesitation.
"Sa buwan ng pag-ibig, ipagkakatiwala ko na ang ate ko sa'yo, Jace," Wendy's brother said, patting him on the back.
Wendy watched it all unfold with a calm heart. Her love story didn't look like the ones in movies. It wasn't glamorous or dramatic. But it was real.
And this time, she was walking into it with her eyes wide open.