chapter 7

“Azaira wants to meet you,” Kael said habang pareho kaming nakatayo sa harap ng malaking bintana ng mansion. Ang ulan sa labas ay marahang bumubuhos, waring may kasamang pasubali ang langit.

Tumigil ako sa pag-inom ng kape.

“She asked?” tanong ko, pilit pinapanatiling kalmado ang boses.

“Yes,” sagot niya. “But she doesn’t know who you are to me yet.”

“Wife in secret,” I muttered.

Kael didn’t react. But I knew he heard it. I saw the twitch in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the railing just a little tighter.

“I want to be honest with her… eventually,” he added, softer now. “She’s just a child, Elira. Hindi niya alam ang kasinungalingang iniwan sa kanya ng tatay namin.”

Tumango ako, pero hindi pa rin nawawala ang bigat sa dibdib ko. How many lies had been stacked between our families like bricks in a wall?

Sa bawat yabag ko palapit sa study, naririnig ko na ang mahinang tawa ng bata. High-pitched. Innocent. Masaya. The sound clawed at something buried deep in my chest—something I didn’t realize was aching to wake up.

When I opened the door, she looked up.

A girl around 8 years old, with dark hair, soft eyes… and a drawing pad in her lap. She reminded me of someone—of Kael, yes, but there was something else. Something frighteningly familiar.

“Hi,” she smiled. “You must be the new girl Uncle Kael won’t stop talking about.”

I blinked. “He talks about me?”

She nodded, grinning. “He said you have the kindest eyes.”

Something inside me melted. A piece of ice lodged in my heart cracked open.

I sat beside her.

“Ano yang dinodrawing mo?”

“It’s a secret garden,” she said proudly. “It’s where I imagine Mommy still lives.”

Natigilan ako.

“Your mom?”

She nodded again. “I never met her. But Uncle Kael said she loved flowers and hated thunder.”

Thunder.

Same as me. Same as Mom.

My breath caught in my throat. Para akong binuhusan ng sarili kong alaala—memories of a trembling voice soothing me during storms, of hands planting tiny flower pots by our apartment window.

Kael entered the study, and he instantly noticed my pale face.

“Elira, what’s wrong?”

I looked up at him, unable to steady the storm now erupting inside my chest.

“What if… what if Azaira is more than your sister?”

He froze.

“What do you mean?”

I held out the sketch Azaira gave me. Sa gilid, may pangalang nakasulat. Hindi ko kaagad napansin. Maliit lang, parang signature ng bata. Pero malinaw.

“Vivienne.”

My mother’s name.

And suddenly, everything spun.

“Kael,” I whispered. “What if your father didn’t just cheat on his wife… What if my mother—Vivienne—wasn’t just hiding you from your father… but hiding Azaira?”

Kael sat down slowly, his face unreadable.

“If this is true…”

“Then Azaira isn’t just your sister,” I said, voice cracking. “She might be mine, too.”

There was a heavy silence. Outside, thunder rolled far away. Kael closed his eyes, as if trying to listen beyond the noise.

“Vivienne,” he repeated. “You’re sure that’s your mother’s name?”

I nodded. “It’s not a common name. And she told me once that she used to draw gardens like that when she was younger. She called them her ‘happy places.’ Just like Azaira did.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “I always thought my father’s mistress was someone nameless. He never spoke of her. Just left behind… Azaira. I was sixteen. He brought the baby home after a trip abroad and told us she was our sister. No explanations. No photos. No mother.”

“I remember that trip,” I whispered. “That was the same year my mom disappeared for almost a month. She told me she went to care for a dying relative. But when she came back… she was different. Quiet. Always crying at night.”

Kael’s breath hitched. “Do you think she gave Azaira away to my father?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But what if she was forced to?”

We both turned to look at Azaira, who had resumed sketching, unaware of the hurricane swirling around her.

“She deserves the truth,” I said. “We both do.”

Later that night, I found myself alone in the old guest room—my supposed safe space while visiting Kael’s family estate. But it didn’t feel safe anymore. Not with this revelation spinning around my head like a storm.

I opened the dusty box of old letters I had brought with me. Inside were yellowing pages—handwritten notes from my mom, poetry scraps, recipes. And tucked in one corner was a folded paper I had never dared open before.

Her handwriting was clear:

> “For Elira. If I’m not there when questions start to hurt.”

My hands trembled as I opened it. My heart thudded so loud I could hear it echo in my ears.

> “My darling Elira,

> I’ve made many mistakes. The biggest one was loving a man I wasn’t allowed to love—and trusting him when he said he would leave his world for me. Instead, he took something from me that I could never get back.

> Her name was Azaira.”

Tears spilled freely now. My chest hurt from how tightly I was holding in the sobs.

Kael knocked once before entering. I couldn’t speak. I just handed him the letter.

His lips moved silently as he read it. Then he sat beside me, stunned.

“She really was your mother,” he said quietly. “To both of us.”

A long silence passed before either of us could breathe properly.

“I’m not just your wife in secret,” I finally whispered. “I’m your sister’s sister. Your family… in more ways than one.”

He looked at me—really looked at me. No secrets. No lies. Just raw truth and the storm that came with it.

“What now?” he asked.

I looked out the window at the garden Azaira had drawn in her imagination.

“Now, we tell her everything,” I said. “Together.”