I never really expected Zian to agree to come along. We've never been close, and the only thing connecting us is the fact that we share a bloodline as half-siblings. Yet, surprisingly, he didn't outright refuse when I asked him to accompany me. It's a bit of a shock, honestly.
Kian, on the other hand, stepped up and offered to join the journey back to our hometown. I couldn't really argue, especially now that he's shown this willingness to stand by my side. It's kind of a relief, a small flicker of support that I didn't see coming.
Carmienne's been pushing for me to go back too. After spending a few months at their mansion, she's been my voice of reason, reminding me not to rush into facing our parents if I'm not ready. I appreciate that, really. But there's this nagging worry that's always at the back of my mind – the thought that she might end up feeling alone with just her husband for company. It's like a double-edged sword, trying to find my way while considering the impact on those I leave behind.
But I promise, I won't be gone for long. I've got to wrap up my final year at a nearby school before I can make my way back. It's an extension of Clifford High University.
And there's this other piece of my puzzle – Liene. We used to be close, but something shifted, and now there's this gaping distance between us. It stings to know she's become a stranger, keeping her distance like I'm some kind of threat. I wish things were different, that we could bridge this gap, but I get it. I've come to accept that she's got her reasons, her own feelings that I can't just brush aside. It's a tough pill to swallow, but I've got to respect her space, even if it aches to do so.
"We're here, ma'am," the driver announced, and the car came to a halt in front of the familiar mansion.
The rush of nostalgia hit me like a tidal wave as I gazed upon what was once my home. It's like memories started to flood back, each corner of the place invoking a sense of both comfort and unease. The mansion seemed frozen in time, yet somehow, it carried an air of change that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
The garden is like a portal to my past, a place where Carmienne, our cousins, and I spent endless hours playing as kids. It's a mix of old and new, well-tended and vibrant, yet also different in some inexplicable way. The sight of it all tugs at my heart, a reminder of the innocent days we left behind.
"So, this is where you live." 
Zian's voice breaks the reverie, pulling me back to the present. We had made our way here after a three-day journey, allowing him the time he needed to recover from his injuries. It's honestly surprising how he seems almost unscathed now, considering the state he was in back then.
"Yeah," I reply softly, the word carrying a weight of emotions that I can't quite express. It's like standing at the crossroads of my past and present, and I'm not entirely sure how to navigate this moment.
"They must be waiting for us." 
Kian's voice breaks the silence as he shoulders a black backpack and steps inside the mansion first. We trail behind him, and as soon as I catch sight of the common door, my attention is drawn to a man standing there, engrossed in conversation on his phone. He's not someone I recognize, but there's a subtle resemblance in the way his dark brown eyes mirror my mother's hazel ones. His deep voice carries through the air as he talks.
"He does seem familiar," Zian's observation is a murmur beside me, just as the man glances up.
His brows knit in a puzzled expression when Kian walks past him, followed closely by Zian. There's a flicker of curiosity in his gaze as he gives them a once-over, his eyes lingering for a moment before they shift to me. I catch his gaze, a strange sense of recognition sparking between us, even though I know we've never met before.
"Uh..." I clear my throat, my curiosity getting the best of me. His attention shifts to me, his gaze meeting mine. "Sorry to interrupt, but who are you?"
"I'm a relative. I believe you're Auntie Laurienne's daughter?" His words carry a hint of familiarity, yet his eyes hold a touch of curiosity as they scan over me. "I didn't expect to see you after all this time, Sharmienne."
I'm taken aback by his response, the realization that he knows me throwing me for a loop. "You know me?"
He lets out a chuckle, a warm sound that seems to bridge the gap between us. "Kinda. You resemble your mother." With a friendly smile, he extends his hand in a gesture of greeting. "I'm Ethan Montero."
I offer a tentative smile of my own, my fingers wrapping around his for a firm handshake. "Sharmienne Golieza. Nice to meet you, Ethan."
He releases my hand after our handshake, his grip balanced between firm and gentle. It's clear that he's indeed a cousin from my mother's side, and by the sound of his surname, it seems I've stumbled upon a branch of my family tree I've never explored before.
As we step inside, his words break the silence, a hint of intimidation coloring his tone. "I heard you're already married. I saw Velasquez here." There's a curious edge to his observation, like he's trying to piece together a puzzle that he wasn't expecting to find.
I'm caught off guard by his remark, my brows furrowing. "Huh?" My response is a mix of confusion and surprise. “Denver?”
"Yeah, they're quite occupied. He's been lending a hand to your father, especially since the last time I was around."
A shiver runs down my spine as his words sink in. Denver is here. The realization echoes through my mind, a repeated mantra that I'm trying to absorb and process. He's actually here, in the same place as me. It's like a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts surge within me, a mix of surprise, and a hint of nervousness too.
"Didn't know that man's already married," he remarks, and I can't help but feel a surge of nerves wash over me. 
His words carry a hint of familiarity, as if he's talking about someone he knows personally. Could he be referring to Denver? Are they friends, or does Ethan simply have some inside information? As my mind races with questions, he continues, his tone gentle. 
"I'll let them know you're finally here. They've been eagerly anticipating your return."
His words pull me back from my thoughts, reminding me that I'm on the threshold of reuniting with family. I give a slight nod as Ethan leaves. And before I can fully collect my thoughts, Zian appears by my side. He guides me to the living room, and in this moment, Kian is noticeably absent.
"You're shaking," Zian observes (his voice laced with, I'm not sure, concern?) as he holds my hand, his grip gentle yet reassuring. "What happened?" he asks, his gaze searching mine for answers. It's like he's attuned to my every move, and I'm left wondering how to put into words the rush of thoughts and feelings that have taken over.
I hadn't even realized the physical reaction my emotions were having on me, my hands sweaty and trembling as uncertainty gripped me. The reality of Denver's presence here, in my hometown, feels like a tidal wave of mixed emotions crashing over me.
"My husband is here, Zian," I finally manage to say, my words almost catching in my throat. There's a depth of understanding in Zian's eyes, like he immediately grasps who I'm referring to, and I'm grateful for his ability to read between the lines.
"So?" His response is simple, a single word that holds an unspoken question.
My gaze remains fixed on our joined hands, a tangle of emotions swirling within me. Just as I'm about to look up and meet Zian's eyes, a voice calls out my name, drawing my attention away.
"Sharmienne." 
The voice draws my attention, and the familiar sound of my name tugs at something deep within me. A wave of nostalgia washes over me, carrying memories of a calming presence and the way he used to call my name.
"Dad..." 
The word escapes my lips in a hushed breath as I catch sight of him standing before me. In that instant, all thoughts and hesitations are cast aside as I rush to him, my heart pounding in my chest. Tears well up in my eyes as I find myself wrapped in his embrace, the warmth of his hug enveloping me like a long-lost comfort. It's like a flood of emotions crashes over me, and I can't help but hold onto him tightly.
"It's been a while, my child," his voice holds a soothing quality, and his gentle caress against my back seems to erase the distance that had grown between us. It's as if the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of us in the living room.
"Daddy... I'm sorry... I didn't..."
"Hush, Sharmienne," his words are a balm to my anxious heart, a way of silencing the self-blame that threatens to spill from my lips. He brushes away my apologies, his voice carrying a mixture of understanding and reassurance. "It was our fault. We should have been more open with you. Kept you in the loop."
Tears well up in my eyes as the floodgates of emotions open. His presence is a reminder of everything I've missed, and the ache in my chest intensifies with each passing second.
"We're sorry that we kept this from you," he continues, his words hitting home with a weight that I can't ignore. "For your mother's behavior towards you. For everything you had to endure."
I shake my head, a mix of emotions swirling within me. It's like I've reached a breaking point, realizing that holding onto these feelings for so long has only led me to this moment of overwhelming vulnerability. All I've wanted, all I've needed, are answers and explanations. It's like a fog has lifted, and the clarity I've been seeking is finally within reach. 
"But..." I step back from his embrace, my tears falling like an uncontrollable cascade. His touch against my cheeks, wiping away the trails of tears, is a gentle reminder of his support. "I was really immature..."
The words hang heavy in the air, and I struggle to find the right way to express myself. My voice wavers, and it's like I'm battling with the weight of my own emotions. 
They know, I know they do. The unspoken understanding between us is palpable, and I realize that I've been the one standing in the way of the clarity I've been seeking. I've been running away from the truth, allowing my emotions to dictate my actions, and in doing so, I've prolonged this period of uncertainty.
"If I hadn't let my emotions get the best of me..." I pause, my voice barely a whisper. Regret tinges my words, a heavy realization settling in. "I wouldn't have carried this sorrow for so long."
It's like a wave of regret crashes over me, and I can't help but wonder how different things might have been if I had just faced these truths head-on from the beginning. The weight of missed opportunities and the pain of wasted time press down on me. A reminder of the importance of confronting my own shortcomings and learning to let go.
"It's not your fault, Sharmienne," Daddy's voice holds a reassuring warmth, his words a comforting embrace that washes away some of the burden I've been carrying. A weight lifts off my shoulders, and I find a glimmer of solace in his words, a small step towards forgiving myself and embracing the healing that's long overdue.
"W-where's mother?" My voice quivers slightly as I ask.
Daddy's gaze softens, and he offers a reassuring smile. "She's been busy preparing for your arrival. She's upstairs."
I can't help but study his face, noticing the passage of time etched into his features. He seems to have aged since the last time I saw him, the weight of life's challenges evident in the lines that now grace his expression. Yet, in this moment, as he stands before me with that comforting smile, it's like those worries melt away. His voice, always a steady anchor, retains its calm and soothing quality. The same voice that guided me through my formative years, the voice of the father who raised me. 
His gaze briefly flickers over my shoulder, and I wonder if he's noticed Zian standing behind me. The subtle shift in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed, like he's taken a moment to assess the situation. 
"Oh. Who's this guy you're with?" he inquires, his tone casual yet curious.
"Zian Galvosa, sir." 
"Dominic's son?" Father's words are laced with a surprising familiarity, as if he's familiar with the Galvosa family. "He didn't tell me you were coming here."
My confusion bubbles to the surface, my thoughts swirling as I try to piece this together. The ease with which he mentions Mr. Galvosa's name throws me off, making me question whether I've been overthinking their relationship. 
Have I been reading too much into their interactions, expecting unresolved tensions that might not even exist? Or am I just being insensitive to a more complex reality?
A puzzle piece clicks into place as I remember Mr. Galvosa's request to be called "Uncle Dominic." It makes sense now. And then, a memory resurfaces – my parents' visit to Mr. Galvosa's mansion to bring me back home, and Denver…
"We'll talk later, Sharmienne," Father's voice brings me back to the present. "For now, escort your brother to the room upstairs, just beside yours."
"I'll do that, Dad." 
A familiar voice slices through the air, freezing me in my tracks. Denver.
His presence, his voice, it sends a familiar shiver down my spine, like a rush of memories flooding back to me. It's like I'm transported back to that first encounter, his 22nd birthday, when our paths crossed for the first time, and an electrifying feeling coursed through me.
"D-Denver?" 
My words stumble out as my eyes lock onto him, my heart pounding. Did he hear my father and me talking? How long had he been there? I'm left standing there, trying to decipher the enigmatic expression on Denver's face. 
"Oh, hijo. You might as well greet your wife first," Dad's words break the tension, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness. 
Denver's nod in response is almost mechanical, devoid of any emotions. His gaze locks onto mine, gray eyes that feel both familiar and distant. Shiver runs down my spine as I meet his gaze, a sensation that's hard to explain. It's as if he's been waiting, knowing that I would be here today.
Something has changed. The once-affectionate look in his eyes, the warmth of his gaze, the smirk that used to accompany his words – they've all been replaced with a cold stare and lips that are now tightly pursed.
"Sharmienne."
His voice, once so familiar, now carries a hoarseness that sends a chill down my spine. That familiar feeling again. It's like the warmth that used to accompany his words has been replaced by an icy edge, leaving me uncertain. 
Denver has always been an enigma to me, his true intentions often veiled in mystery. I notice his jaws clenching, a subtle sign of restraint, as if he's holding back something – whether it's words, emotions, or perhaps resentment from the past. The memory of our last shared night hangs heavily in the air. A past that marked both of us in ways that are impossible to forget. 
And now, as I stand before him, I nod in acknowledgment, but inside, a whirlwind of nerves and apprehension stirs. I'm acutely aware of the uncertainty that lingers between us, unsure if he harbors anger towards me for the choices I made.
His presence passes by me, almost like a ghostly whisper, and his gaze lands on Zian. 
"Come with me," he uttered. It feels like a cold gust of wind, his words directed at Zian in a tone that holds no warmth. 
The words, like a command, cut through the air, and I catch the exchange of glances between Zian and my father. Zian gives me a side-eye and a nod before obediently following Denver, leaving me standing there with a mix of emotions swirling within.
"He's been here since last month, attending to my needs," Father explains, his gaze following Denver as he disappears upstairs.
"Needs?" 
"He's been quite busy supporting the company and securing significant deals with other investors," Father continues. "It was a great choice having the Velasquez family's help after all this time."
The mention of the Velasquez family sends a jolt through me, surprise and intrigue. They're still offering their support, even after the clandestine marriage that has since taken place? 
A surge of questions floods my mind, and my thoughts circle back to the annulment papers that I had hoped Denver would sign. Did he read my letter? Did he choose to let our secret union remain intact? 
"I think so too, Dad." 
I feel a tug of resolve deep within me. There's a need to have a conversation with Denver, to seek closure or perhaps even the possibility of reconciliation – though I'm careful not to let my hopes soar too high. After everything that transpired between us, I'm unsure of what to anticipate, and I'm wary of setting myself up for further disappointment.
"He's been the one explaining your set-up and why you had a secret marriage." Father's words draw my attention back to the present, offering a glimpse into the conversations that have taken place in my absence. "And I do understand why he needs to keep his distance from you."
"It's to protect me," I respond softly.
"It’s the way he loves, Sharmienne," my father uttered sincerely, as if he knows that’s the real reason for all of this. "To love is to protect."
It was also what I wanted for the both of us. I also wanted to protect him, which led me to the decision of running away from him first, to protect him. 
But in the end, I was the cause of his pain. I was the one who inflicted the pain on him, leading him to the decision of letting me go too, to choose to protect me as well.
"I just want a happy life for you, my little one. Follow what your heart desires."