The moment George answered the phone, his voice was steady, yet gentle, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.
"You promised me, El… You promised you wouldn’t worry."
On the other end, there was a brief silence—just the sound of soft breathing before Eliana finally spoke.
"George… I’ve decided. I really want to marry you."
His breath hitched for a second, his grip on the phone tightening. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face, warmth filling his chest.
"Wait for me," he said, already moving before she could respond.
Minutes later, he was there—standing outside her house, waving at her as she appeared by the door. Their eyes met, and in that instant, there was no need for words.
Their thoughts intertwined, silent yet louder than any spoken conversation.
"You ran here, didn’t you?" Eliana thought, amused.
"Not really. Maybe. Yes." George admitted in his mind, still catching his breath.
"Idiot," she teased, but her heart was pounding too fast for it to sound convincing.
"You love this idiot."
"Unfortunately… I do."
George exhaled a quiet laugh, then took a step forward. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small velvet box and opened it, revealing the engagement ring he had prepared long ago. It wasn’t extravagant, but the engraving inside carried the words that meant everything:
"Our hearts, our future—always in sync."
Eliana’s breath caught as she stared at it.
"You were ready all this time?"
"I was waiting for you."
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the ring, her fingers brushing against his. The warmth, the weight of the moment, everything felt so real—so terrifying and wonderful at the same time.
"So… no more running away?" George asked, watching her closely.
Eliana swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.
"No more running away."
And just like that, under the quiet glow of the streetlights, their unspoken promise was sealed—not just in words, but in the certainty of their hearts.
The wedding was set—nothing extravagant, just a solemn and heartfelt ceremony inside a grand yet serene church. The pristine white walls, towering columns, and symmetrical pews created an air of solemnity, while the soft glow of chandeliers illuminated the couple as they stood before the minister. The air carried a quiet reverence, the kind that demanded sincerity from all present.
As the minister spoke, his deep voice echoing through the sacred hall, the moment of exchanging rings arrived. The couple turned to face each other, hands trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the sheer weight of the moment. This wasn’t just a promise. It was a covenant, a binding vow that transcended words.
Yet, before this day arrived, George had faced one final test—one that had nothing to do with the wedding preparations but everything to do with proving himself worthy.
Days before the ceremony, George sat with his parents in the living room of his soon-to-be in-laws. He had been prepared for a formal discussion, perhaps a heartfelt talk about responsibility and love. What he hadn’t expected was the serious, calculating look in his future father-in-law’s eyes.
"Come with me," the man had said.
No further explanation. No clues as to what was coming.
George had followed, his gut already bracing for impact.
What came next was a grueling series of tests—ones that any traditional, protective Filipino father might impose on the man taking his daughter’s hand.
First, it was the physical challenge. In the backyard, George was handed a large sack of rice—heavy, unyielding. "Carry it across the yard ten times," the older man instructed, arms crossed.
George barely managed the first round without stumbling. His future father-in-law watched in silence, offering no words of encouragement. Sweat dripped down his brow as he struggled through the second, third, and fourth laps. His arms screamed in protest, but he refused to give up. By the ninth round, his legs felt like lead. On the tenth, he nearly collapsed—but he made it.
Then came the test of skill. The father-in-law took him to the kitchen. "Cook me a meal," he said. "A real meal, not something instant. Something that will tell me my daughter won’t go hungry in your hands."
George, who had relied on hired chefs and fancy restaurants his whole life, found himself staring blankly at the ingredients laid before him. He took a deep breath, recalling childhood memories of his mother cooking. Slowly, carefully, he prepared a dish—not perfect, but made with effort. When his father-in-law tasted it, he didn’t comment immediately. Instead, he nodded slightly before moving on to the final test.
The test of heart.
Sitting across from George, the older man leaned forward. "If my daughter ever loses everything—the wealth, the status, the comforts—will you still choose her?" His gaze was sharp, piercing into George’s very soul.
There was no hesitation in George’s response. "Even if we had nothing, she would still be my everything."
For the first time, his father-in-law smiled, though faintly. "Good."
That was the moment George knew—he had passed.
And now, as he slid the ring onto his bride’s finger in the sacred halls of the church, he knew every challenge, every struggle, every moment of proving himself had been worth it.
Because from this moment on, she was his, and he was hers—forever.