TIARA (SOLA'S) POINT OF VIEW
Three years had passed.
The shadows of the past still lingered, but time had carved out a peaceful life far away from the bloodshed. In a private, tucked-away neighborhood in Manila, surrounded by swaying mango trees and bougainvillea-draped fences, we found something we never thought we'd have again.
Peace.
It wasn't the flashy kind, or the kind that came with security details and steel walls. No, it was simpler than that. It was the smell of breakfast drifting from the kitchen. The distant laughter of children playing down the street. The soft clink of coffee mugs on ceramic tiles. The morning radio buzzing with upbeat tunes and gossiping anchors.
I stood on the balcony of our modest, modern house. The sun warmed my skin, and the wind ruffled my loose white shirt as I sipped on hot tea. Behind me, I could hear the gentle hum of life inside. Somewhere, tucked into a quiet corner of the house, she was probably coloring with Cameron, her little giggles brig
