Gelo's POV
College was supposed to be a step back. A pause from the whirlwind of stages and flashing cameras. A chance to study, to prepare for the family business, to act like ordinary students again.
But nothing about my life with Xiarya was ordinary.
Two years. For two years, she had carried the weight of someone else's name, someone else's face, someone else's silence. She stood on stage as Adra, kept the illusion alive so that Sudden Music never stumbled. The fans never knew. To them, Adra never left.
But I knew.
I knew how heavy it had been. I knew how she shook after every show. I knew the way her voice would crack when she whispered that she wasn't sure how long she could keep it up.
And now, she was free.
Her long hair brushed her shoulders again, no longer cut into the sharp disguise of Adra's shadow. She walked through Alcantara University with her head high, not as a stand-in, but as Xiarya Buenavista—Adra's cousin, heiress in her own right, my girlfriend.
And everyone knew it.
Campus Days
Whispers followed us everywhere.
"Isn't that her? The cousin?"
"She's with Gelo, right? Wow..."
"She's beautiful... no wonder."
They weren't wrong. She was beautiful—inside and out. But more than that, she was strong. Stronger than anyone realized.
Still, there were nights when the whispers cut deeper. Nights when she curled into herself and asked if she was enough for me.
"Xiarya," I would whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. "You're not enough. You're everything."
Her smile would return then, small but real, and the storm would pass.
She wasn't just walking beside me. She was walking with me, through the chaos, through the legacy, through the weight of what we were building.
Family Pressure
Of course, my family didn't make it easy.
One dinner, my father spoke bluntly across the table. "Sedric, your path is clear. The Yung legacy demands alliances, not whims."
His gaze flicked to Xiarya. She shifted in her seat, but she didn't flinch.
"With respect, Father," I said, my voice steady. "She isn't a whim. She's my choice. And I'll fight for that, even if it means fighting you."
The silence that followed was heavy. My father said nothing more, but Xiarya's hand trembled when I took it under the table.
Later, when we were alone, she whispered, "You'd fight your family for me?"
"Always," I told her. And I meant it.
The Breaking Point
Rumors spread fast on campus.
"She's only with him because of who he is."
"She's not his equal. She's just a charity case."
The whispers hurt her more than she admitted. One night, I found her in the practice hall, her shoulders shaking as she pressed silent keys on the piano.
"Maybe it'd be easier if I stepped back," she said through tears.
The words gutted me. "No. Don't you dare say that."
"I don't want to ruin your future."
"You are my future," I said sharply. "Don't you get it? I don't care about legacies or rumors. If it's not with you, I don't want it."
Her tears spilled freely then, and I pulled her into my arms, holding her until her breathing steadied.
"I'll prove it to you," I whispered. "Every day. Every moment. I'll prove that I'm yours."
The Proposal
Spring brought the university gala—a night of gowns and chandeliers, laughter echoing across the ballroom.
I took the stage when no one expected it.
"For years," I said into the microphone, "she was forced to hide. For years, she carried a mask that wasn't hers, so that we could survive. But now she stands as herself—not my cousin's shadow, not my family's burden, but my love."
The crowd murmured, eyes turning toward her. She froze, her blue dress glimmering under the lights.
I stepped down, weaving through the crowd until I stood before her. Slowly, deliberately, I sank to one knee.
"Xiarya Erranya Buenavista," I said, my chest pounding. "You've been my anchor, my fire, my home. Will you marry me?"
Her tears spilled, but her voice was clear. "Yes. A thousand times, yes."
The hall erupted into cheers. Steve whistled, Mark whooped, Monique cried openly. And Adra—standing quietly at the edge—smiled.
When I slipped the ring on her finger, she shook with sobs, but her smile shone brighter than any spotlight I'd ever stood under.
The Wedding
The day came faster than we expected.
The cathedral was dressed in white and gold, sunlight pouring through stained glass. Rows of family, friends, and carefully invited guests filled the pews. Cameras clicked softly—approved photographers, no scandal allowed.
Adra stood as my best man, his quiet pride steady as stone. Steve and Mark flanked him, grinning like idiots. Monique fussed with Xiarya's veil one last time, her tears already flowing.
And then the doors opened.
She walked in on her uncle's arm, her gown flowing like starlight. Gasps filled the room. Even the richest heirs and sternest businessmen whispered at her beauty.
But all I saw was her.
When she reached me, her hand slid into mine, and the world stopped.
The vows were simple. Honest.
"I choose you," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I choose you," I echoed, my throat tight.
The priest smiled. "I now pronounce you husband and wife."
I didn't wait. I pulled her close and kissed her like the world was watching, because it was.
The crowd erupted into applause. Music swelled.
And for the first time, she wasn't hiding. She wasn't pretending. She wasn't a shadow. She was mine.
My wife.
My forever.
Epilogue – The Secret Between Us
The reception was chaos—dancing, speeches, too much champagne. Steve's toast turned into a legal lecture. Mark bragged until Clara smacked him. Monique sobbed through her speech.
But the moment that mattered most was quiet.
We stood outside under the fairy lights, her head on my shoulder, her ring catching the glow.
"You think they'll ever know?" she asked softly.
I knew what she meant—the fans, the world. That for two years, she had been the one on stage, carrying Adra's silence.
"No," I said. "And they don't need to."
Her eyes shimmered. "Sometimes it feels like none of it happened."
"It happened," I told her firmly. "We know. He knows. That's enough."
She smiled then, the kind of smile that made my chest ache.
"Xiarya Buenavista-Yung," I whispered. "My wife. My love. My forever."
And as the music drifted faintly from inside, I kissed her again, knowing that for all the secrets we carried, this truth was ours alone.