Novels by Rustom Ondoy

The atmosphere had shifted again.Tymm could feel it—not in anything Harrison said, but in what he didn’t. There was a certain stiffness in his shoulders, a quietness in his movements that reminded her of their first few days together.She told herself it was nothing. That she was just being paranoid after meeting Celine. That the weight of the conversation hadn’t been as heavy as it felt.But then, during a quiet Tuesday dinner, it dropped.“I should tell you something,” Harrison said.Tymm looked up from her plate, already bracing herself.“There’s a partnership being finalized with VeltraTech this quarter.”She nodded slowly. “Okay…”“Celine’s the new project lead on their side. She’ll be overseeing the integration with one of our subsidiaries.”Her fork paused halfway to her mouth.“So… she’s back in your business life now,” she said quietly.Harrison nodded. “It wasn’t something I arranged, but I also didn’t block it. She’s good at what she does, and this partnership has been in

A week passed, and the routine settled in quietly.Mornings were filled with soft greetings and quiet breakfasts. Afternoons were spent apart—Tymm either exploring the city or staying home with her thoughts, while Harrison buried himself in meetings and business calls. Evenings were polite, sometimes even comfortable, though still wrapped in the cold familiarity of two people pretending not to notice the awkwardness between them.They didn’t argue.They didn’t touch.They didn’t ask questions.But something was shifting.It started with the piano.Tymm had been playing it more lately—late in the afternoons, when the light came in just right and she felt like herself again. Simple melodies at first. Then fuller pieces. Music was the only part of her day that felt like breathing. She didn’t think Harrison noticed.But one night, after playing a soft version of Clair de Lune, she turned to find him standing quietly by the living room doorway.“How long have you been there?” she asked, st

The soft humming of the air conditioning was the only sound that kept Tymm company the next morning. Sunlight filtered through the glass walls of the bedroom, casting a golden glow over the minimalist space that still didn’t feel like hers.She had barely slept. When she did drift off, her dreams were a blur of faces she didn’t recognize, voices from the wedding echoing like distant thunder. Every time she opened her eyes, it took a moment to remember where she was—and who she was now.Tymm Salvador.The name didn’t feel real yet.She stepped into the walk-in closet, its sleek design and expensive scent screaming of wealth. Her clothes were all arranged neatly—too neatly. Someone else had done this for her. Someone else had mapped out this life, and now she was supposed to wear it like it fit.After a quick shower, she dressed in a soft ivory blouse and beige trousers—simple, clean, and quietly elegant. She looked like a Salvador wife should.She didn’t feel like one.In the kitchen,

Tymm Arces Narciso stood in front of the mirror, still as a statue, her wedding dress clinging to her body like a truth she couldn’t escape. The intricate lace sleeves, the pearl-studded bodice, the flowing train—everything about the gown screamed perfection. The kind of gown little girls dream about wearing someday.But it didn’t feel like a dream.It felt like a goodbye.The soft hum of classical music echoed from the chapel doors downstairs, and the air inside her suite was laced with perfume and tension. Her makeup was flawless, her hair pinned into an elegant updo, and the veil—now draped gently over her face—only blurred the vision of the life she had once hoped for.“Ten minutes, Ma’am Tymm,” the wedding coordinator whispered from the door.Tymm didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her throat had gone dry the moment she slipped into the dress. Her body was here, inside the Salvador estate’s grand bridal suite, but her heart was stuck somewhere between rebellion and resignation.This w