NOVEMBER 2025
LILLIAN
The smell of charcoal and the faint, comforting scent of fresh linen always managed to quiet the noise in my head.
It was barely past seven in the morning, but I was already in my studio, the floor around my stool littered with discarded sketches. I didn't look up from my drafting table, my fingers smudged with graphite as I aggressively shaded the collar of a structural wool coat. My mind was entirely consumed by my upcoming December collection; the pressure to deliver something transcendent for Manila Fashion Week was weighing heavily on my shoulders.
But atleast... I was finally building a life out of silk and symmetry, designing a future where my ribs no longer ached with the hidden purples and yellows of Uncle Lucian's temper.
Suddenly, a sharp knock on the glass door shattered my concentration.
"You're supposed to be designing bridal gowns, not coats."
My head snapped up. Standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with a smirk on his face, was Liam.
"Kuya?" I blinked, setting my pencil down.
My cousin grinned, dropping a leather travel bag onto my sofa. He looked thoroughly exhausted, his warm tan skin catching the light, while his striking black eyes and remarkably long lashes gleamed with an undeniable brightness. His thick, dark hair—tumbling in the same messy, unruly waves was completely disheveled, framing a cleanly shaven face that completely defied his supposed corporate prison sentence in Madrid.
"The one and only," he said, stepping over a pile of fabric to pull me into a brief, warm hug. "Surprise."
"What are you doing here?" I asked, wiping my hands on a cloth, my voice still breathless. "I thought you had a flight to Spain."
"I was. But I convinced the board to let me handle the domestic transition remotely," Liam said, his grin softening into something more genuine, almost nervous. He leaned against my drafting table, looking at me intently. "Because tomorrow night, at the family dinner, I'm proposing to Cassie."
My breath caught in my throat.
"I need you there, Lil. No excuses," he continued, pointing a finger at me playfully but with an underlying gravity. "And like I said, you better start sketching a wedding dress. I'm sure Cassie won't let anyone else design it."
A bittersweet warmth bloomed in my chest.
"Kuya... of course. I'm so happy for you."
Three years.
Almost three years of sitting across from them, smiling through meals, pretending everything was normal. Three years of hiding a marriage built on a contract and silence. And still, my chest tightens every time we have this kind of gathering.
"Come on," Liam said, noticing the shadow crossing my face and misinterpreting it as creative exhaustion. "You look like you haven't seen daylight in a week. Let's get coffee. My treat."
We spent the next hour in a quiet boutique cafe down the street. For a little while, I listened to Liam talk about his plans for the future and I found myself genuinely relaxing for the first time in weeks. It was a rare comfort.
Then, my phone buzzed on the marble table.
A calendar alert flashed across the screen: 9:00 AM – Board & Stakeholders Meeting: Project Proposal.
"Everything alright?" Liam asked, noticing my sudden stiff posture.
"Yeah. Just duty calling," I said, offering a tight smile as I stood up and grabbed my blazer. "I have to present the new project proposal today. It's one of my major presentations so... I'm sorry but I have to run."
Liam's lips pouted in disappointment, but that expression melted into a warm, encouraging smile a second later.
"Go crush them," he said. "See you at Lumière!"
———————————————————
The atmosphere in the corporate boardroom in Bonifacio Global City was a stark contrast to the cozy cafe. It was suffocating. This room was the nerve center of the Ramirez Group—a massive multi-industry conglomerate spanning luxury hotels and resorts, high-end restaurants, a domestic airline, and the retail clothing empire I had been tasked to lead.
I stood at the head of the long mahogany table, my hands clenched so tightly in my lap that I could feel the strain in my knuckles. The morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but it did nothing to warm the cold tension in the room.
Across from me sat my father-in-law, Mr. Ramirez, his sharp, disapproving gaze piercing through me. And sitting just two seats down from him, a smug, cruel smile playing on his lips, was my uncle, Tito Lucian.
They hadn't even looked at the printed report I had spent weeks reviewing. The numbers and words blurred in my mind as their voices cut through the room.
"This proposal lacks market aggression, Lillian," Mr. Ramirez began. "It's soft. Much like your disposition. I'm wondering if we made a mistake letting a 'quiet girl' handle a loud man's business."
Then, a woman in her 50s wearing a pristine maroon suit, who had been quiet until now, chuckled sarcastically. This was Isaac's aunt, Mr. Ramirez's adoptive sister. A smile tugged at her lips, as if she were enjoying the way my father-in-law was insulting me.
Before I could even draw a breath to respond, Uncle Lucian chuckled, a low, grating sound that made my blood run cold.
"I have to agree," he chimed in, his voice dripping with calculated disdain. He didn't even look at me, choosing instead to flip through my printed report with a dismissive flick of his finger. "Giving you the title was... generous, but perhaps too ambitious for your capabilities."
The room seemed to tilt. A sharp, metallic taste of copper flooded the back of my mouth. My vision narrowed, the rest of the boardroom blurring until all that remained sharp were the polished gold edges of Uncle Lucian's cufflinks catching the harsh overhead lights. My pulse thudded in my ears—a loud, rhythmic thud that drowned out the hum of the air conditioning. My throat clamped shut, locking the heat of my words deep inside my chest.
Suddenly, the heavy boardroom doors swung open.
"My apologies for the delay, gentlemen," Isaac's deep voice resonated through the room as he walked in, entirely unbothered by the tension. He adjusted his cuffs, his sharp eyes instantly scanning the room and landing on my pale face.
He was supposed to be in a separate regional merger meeting.
He took his seat right next to me, leaning forward. "But I couldn't help but overhear. Father. Uncle," Isaac began, his tone deceptively polite but laced with steel. "If you had actually taken the time to read page four of my wife's proposal, you would see that this project is backed by a 40% projected ROI and guaranteed pre-orders from three major Southeast Asian distributors. Dismissing her strategy isn't just a personal insult—it's bad business."
The room went dead silent. Mr. Ramirez narrowed his eyes, but he didn't speak another word of protest. Isaac had effectively shut him down with a single, calculated strike.
Uncle Lucian raised an eyebrow, a mocking smirk on his face. "Defending your wife, Isaac? How touching. But let's not forget how she got this position."
Isaac's jaw clenched so tightly a muscle ticked in his cheek. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before the damage could be done.
"I'll revisit everything."
He snapped his gaze to me, and the sheer disappointment bleeding from his eyes cut deep.
"Lillian.." Isaac's voice strained, unable to accept my silence.
He didn't understand. Keeping my mouth shut was the only thing that kept me alive, and I refused to let things escalate any further.
The silence that followed was deafening. Mr. Ramirez stood up sharply, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He cast one last icy glare at us before exiting, Uncle followed, pausing only to give me a look of reckoning.
The stakeholders quickly filed out, leaving the massive room entirely empty.
Except for us.
I exhaled shakily, my hands trembling. "I... I'm sorry," I whispered, barely above a breath.
Isaac turned on me. It was sharp. Almost irritated. "What was that, Lillian?" Isaac's voice wasn't gentle anymore. He walked over to me, his brow furrowed in deep, frustrated concern. "Why did you just stand there? They were tearing your credibility to pieces in front of the entire board, and you didn't say a single word to defend yourself. You're one of the Directors. You have the data. Why let them insult you?"
My hands clenched into fists at my sides.
"You let them decide who you are," Isaac said, his voice rising with a restrained frustration that felt terrifyingly loud in the empty room. For just a moment, I saw something flicker in his eyes—an anger that wasn't directed at his father nor my uncle, but at my silence.
I kept my eyes glued on the floor.
Even though he had just defended me, the icy wall around my heart didn't melt. I couldn't trust the relief.
"Look at me," Isaac commanded quietly, stepping into my space. He reached his hand out, his fingers stretching toward my shoulder, a gesture that looked entirely too much like comfort.
I flinched away before his fingers could make contact. I took a sharp step backward, pressing my back against the edge of the conference table.
Isaac's hand hovered in the empty air, a flash of hurt crossing his features before his mask slipped back on. He slowly dropped his hand back to his side.
The silence between us stretched, heavy and suffocating.
I pulled my composure together, my expression hardening into an unreadable slate. I picked up my tablet from the table, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, my tone entirely formal, entirely distant. "Excuse me."
Without waiting for his response, without looking back to see the expression on his face, I grabbed my bag and left him standing alone in the empty room.
Saturday night was a masterclass in avoidance. The silence of the house didn't just sit; it suffocated, thick with the aftermath of my Friday shutdown. I spent hours under the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom, scrubbing the phantom touch of Uncle Lucian's gaze off my skin until my collarbones turned a raw, angry red. When Isaac finally came home around midnight, his heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor, I didn't move from the darkness of the guest bedroom. I stayed curled on my side, staring at the gap beneath the door, watching his shadow linger outside my threshold for a long, agonizing minute before he finally walked away. The phantom taste of copper from the boardroom stayed with me all night, turning every breath into a chore.
———————————————————
The next Sunday morning was deceptively calm, the kind of quiet that made everything feel heavier. It should have been my day off, a rare chance to rest, yet I found myself planning to visit the atelier, unable to ignore the designs waiting for my review.
Fashion design slowly became my refuge, a place where my heart could breathe when everything else felt heavy. Owning my own atelier and boutique still feels unreal, a gentle reward for choosing myself after years of restraint. I abandoned this dream long ago, I buried sketches beneath contracts and meetings, pretending it didn't hurt.
Yet somehow, fate remained quietly patient. It waited until I was ready, then returned this dream to my hands.
After a quick shower, I chose a palette of earth and light: a cream turtleneck, long sleeves and tailored tan slacks. I brushed out my long, wavy black hair until it spilled over my shoulders like dark silk, then added enough makeup to give my face a glow that the stress had tried to steal.
The moment I stepped into the hallway, I paused and took in the quiet emptiness of the house. It felt more like a beautiful furnished shell than a home.
I headed to the kitchen, hoping for a quick cup of coffee before leaving, but froze at the sight of a neatly packed breakfast on the table. A small, light-blue sticky note lay beside it.
His neat handwriting was unmistakable.
I'll be home late. Don't wait for me. - Isaac
He always was. Without reading past the first two words, I flicked the note off the counter. It drifted into the trash can, landing squarely on top of an identical blue square from yesterday, which sat over the crumpled blue one from the morning before. The bin was a layered sediment of his brief presence.
This has become our routine. He leaves early for work, returns late, and our paths rarely cross. We live under the same roof but feel like we inhabit different worlds.
It was past 6:00 PM by the time I wrapped up work. I decided to head straight to Lumière for the family dinner rather than going home to change. Liam insisted that I go with Isaac, but I haven't told him about the dinner. He was too busy, and I didn't want to bother him. I'll just handle the explanations later.
November was nearly spent, and the city was vibrating with the frantic energy of a looming December. Outside my studio, from a nearby flower shop, Jose Mari Chan's voice drifted out for the thousandth time since September, but now, with the breeze turning icy, the countdown felt real.
I stood by in front of my atelier, checking my watch as the minutes ticked by. I was supposed to be waiting for Manong Jerry (Isaac's driver) to fetch me, but he was running uncharacteristically late.
I was hugging myself, feeling the cold seep through my layers, my eyes scanning the oncoming traffic for Manong Jerry's usual car.
Instead, a sleek black E-Class Mercedes pulled up right in front of me.
The window rolled down, and my breath caught. It was Isaac. His jaw was tense, his eyes sharp as he stepped out of the vehicle and walked around to open the passenger door for me.
"Get in."
I climbed in without a word, and we drove away.
The hum of the engine was almost comforting against the sudden, tense quiet between us.
"You really had no plans to tell me about the dinner, huh?" he finally said, low but edged with frustration. "I wouldn't have known if Liam hadn't called me."
His words stung more than I expected.
"You said...you'd be home late, so I thought you were busy," I tried to remain neutral.
He sighed, gripping the wheel tighter. For a brief moment, his jaw clenched, and his eyes softened.
"At least you should have mentioned it," he muttered with his tone softer this time, almost resigned.
I glanced at him, catching the way his brows furrowed like they always did when he was thinking too much. I opened my mouth to say something, but words always died in my throat.
———————————————————
"We're here."
He parked the car in front of Lumière, an exclusive, high-end restaurant tucked away in Greenbelt. To ensure total privacy for his proposal, Liam had booked the entire place just for our family.
Before I could even reach for the door handle, he was already out, moving around to open my door. As I stepped out, his arm slipped around my back, a gesture that still sent a thrill through me. He handed his keys off to the valet, his attention never truly leaving me as we left the parking lot.
"Finally, you lovebirds are here!" Liam's voice boomed from the entire restaurant as soon as we stepped inside.
Cassie rushed over, her face lighting up as she pulled us both into a warm hug. With her short, wavy hair bouncing slightly and her minimal makeup, she carried the effortless charm of a simple, everyday girl next door—the kind of genuine warmth that instantly made the grand room feel a little like home.
And Tito Lucian who has been standing in the shadows of the foyer, has his gaze anchored on me. He didn't say a word, but the look he gave me was a sharpened blade.
Dinner passed in a warm, golden blur—clinking glasses, soft music humming in the background, and bursts of laughter that filled every corner of the room. Near the end of the meal, Liam suddenly stood, his face glowing with a nervous kind of joy. He cleared his throat softly, drawing everyone's attention.
"I just want to say..." he began, his eyes settling on Cassie with a tenderness that made my heart melt.
"You've been my peace in the loudest days, my strength when I had nothing left, and the person who makes every ordinary moment feel extraordinary. I can't imagine building my future with anyone else."
Cassie's lips parted in surprise, her eyes already glistening.
Then, with a breath that shook ever so slightly, Kuya Liam knelt on one knee beside her.
"Cassandra Louise Hermano," he said, voice trembling but sure, "Will you marry me?"
A chorus of gasps rippled across the table.
Her hands flew to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. "Yes." She nodded, and the whole room erupted in cheers, applause, and happy screams. But the joy doubled when they shared one more surprise—they were expecting their first child.
Everyone clapped and congratulated them; the air filled with pure celebration. For a moment, everything felt perfect, light, hopeful, and full of love.
Until, of course, someone had to ruin it.
"So... It's been three years." Aunt Tessa said, (Uncle Lucian's second wife) loud enough for the table to hear, "When's your turn, Lillian? You do know that you have to give Isaac an heir, right?"
Her words sliced clean through the celebration, it was sharp, awkward, and completely unnecessary. While Uncle sitting beside her remained silent and unreadable.
I froze, my smile faltering.
Before I could even open my mouth, Isaac's hand found mine under the table and gently squeezed it. Isaac's jaw tightened imperceptibly, his gaze snapping to lock with Tita Tess'. "We will have a child when she's ready," he stated, his words are firm. "And only if she wants to."
His eyes met mine, and suddenly everything around us dimmed. His thumb brushed over my knuckles like he was grounding us both.
"Right, love?" he said, offering a soft, steady smile.
My heart tripped over itself. I returned a smile, while trying not to let it shake.
It was almost 10 PM when everyone decided to go home, the once-lively restaurant is now filled with soft goodbyes and lingering warmth. We followed suit, gathering our things and making our way to the door.
"Visit us more often," Cassie said gently, her eyes following me with a hint of longing. "Not just when there's a family dinner or some big event. I miss having you."
I offered a small smile, the kind that didn't quite reach my eyes. "I know, Ate. Things have just been... hectic with work lately. But we'll try."
She gave a little nod, then her arms pulled me into a hug that felt like she was trying to hold me together. We stood there for what felt like forever, the world outside falling away for a full minute until her grip finally loosened and she stepped back, leaving a lingering warmth behind.
"It's getting late," she murmured, her voice lingered with quiet affection. "Take Care."
"We will," I whispered, clinging to her warmth for a heartbeat longer before finally letting go.
Isaac placed a gentle but firm hand on my back as we walked out of the restaurant. Once we were outside and out of sight, he quickly let go, creating that familiar distance between us once more.
We slipped back into our routine, the silence, the unspoken tension. He held the car door open for me, and I slipped into the passenger seat.
The drive home was quiet, after a long stretch of silence, he finally spoke, his voice was low but steady.
"I have a business trip this coming Tuesday. I'll be gone for a week," he said, his eyes remaining on the road. "Will you be okay?"
He glanced at me briefly.
"Don't worry. I'll be fine," I replied, trying to sound indifferent.
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "You can..." His voice trailed off, and I saw his jaw clench, as if he was struggling to find the right words. "Just call me if you need anything."
I managed a small, tired smile. "Ok."
I turned my gaze to the passing city lights, trying to lose myself in the blur of headlights and busy streets. But my mind kept drifting back to the dinner earlier, to the warmth in my cousin's eyes, the quiet joy in Ate Cassie's smile, and the way Isaac had instinctively pulled me close when we stepped inside.
A part of me ached with something close to envy. I couldn't remember the last time I felt warmth without bracing for pain. My life had become a cycle of endurance, bruises that faded, words that cut deeper, and silence that screamed louder than anger.
Only a little longer... I reminded myself.
Just until next month.
Until the contract ends.
Until I can finally walk away.
I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly...
I will be free.