CHAPTER 7

–ALORA EUNICE’S POV–

"Alora Eunice, come back here!" Dad shouted, but my mind was too clouded with rage and pain.

"Tsk... that boy. What a disappointment," Mom muttered sharply.

"Pa! You shouldn't have shown her the photos—" Dad snapped, frustration in his voice.

"We shouldn't hide it from her, Euren. I don’t want my granddaughter ending up hurt by that bastard,” Grandpa said.

I stopped listening. I quickly locked my room, shutting myself inside. I didn’t care about the darkness filling every bit of space… I just needed to cry. I wanted to let everything out because if not, I might explode.

"Oliver..." I mumbled, clutching the pillow beside me as if it was the only thing I can hold on.

He is not the one in the photos, right? He'll never cheat on me, right?! Never!

Thank goodness it’s Sunday, and no classes to worry about, no people to face. Even though I’d been awake since six in the morning, I still hadn’t left my room. The maid knocked earlier to call me for breakfast, but I pretended to be asleep.

“Alora,” Dad’s voice came softly, followed by the sound of his footsteps drawing closer. I kept my back to him, curled up and quiet.

“It’s lunchtime now. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast,” he said gently. “Please, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

For the nth time, I was crying silently—face buried in the pillow, shoulders trembling with each quiet sob.

I doubted Dad didn’t hear it. The room was too still, and silence has a way of making my sorrow louder. But he said nothing. Maybe because he knew that right now, words wouldn’t fix anything.

A half an hour passed just like that before I heard Dad heavily sighed, caressing the back of my head which slowly gave me comfort.

"Should I talk to that guy, hm?"

"No!" I wiped my tears, sat on my bed, and faced dad. He looks hurt and devastated like me. "No, dad. I... I'll talk to him when I'm ready."

"Come here," Dad stretched out his arm to reach me and I crawled on my bed to go to him. He makes me lean on his shoulder and his right arm at my back to support me. I never experienced this kind of comfort from mom but I'm lucky to have dad. 

"It's heartbreaking, I know. Actually, it breaks my heart too. Seeing you like this? I want to punch that boy a thousand times for making my precious girl cry a bucket of tears."

"Dad..."

"I won't stop you from crying. Cry as much as you want. It's not a sign of weakness, remember that." Dad continued gently caressing my head using his right hand. "You're just letting out those heavy emotions, but after that... give yourself a break. You deserve it after all this shit happened to you."

I don't know how much time we spent in that position but dad is just waiting for me to calm down.

"Right, he's such an *sshole." I mumbled. I thought dad would scold me for saying inappropriate words but he just chuckled.

"Indeed," He agreed, tapping my shoulder before I moved to sit properly beside him. "I might not take away that pain but always put in your mind that Dad is always here for you, hm, Alora?"

"Yeah. Thanks, dad." I hugged him tightly.

"Now, I have to go to work."

"Work?"

"Business." He said, fixing his wrinkled long sleeves. "I’ll tell the helper to bring you something to eat, okay? You should fill your rumbling tummy. Rest for today." Dad leaned and kissed me on the forehead before leaving my room.

"Take care, dad."

"You too."

I did what dad requested. I ate the meal, took a bath, and spent my time preparing for midterm exams this whole week and of course, attended my online classes for fashion design. I don’t want to waste my time sulking and crying like a baby. Yes, it hurts like piercing my heart with a million needles but I need to divert my attention into something productive so that I won’t remember… at least for a few hours what I am going through. Today, my top priority is studies over a ruined lovelife.

I am wearing my EarPods and listening to my previous performances. I'm glad to hear my improvements since I started playing piano.

"Alora," I felt someone touch my shoulder so I immediately removed one of the EarPods and looked at the person. I’m too busy not to notice my surroundings. 

It's mom. She looked at my study table and she was relieved to see what I was doing.

"Glad to see you studying despite what happened. Keep going, hon." She touched my cheek and I felt the warmth from her soft hand. "Don't let him ruin you. I won't be disturbing your study time. The helper will just call you for dinner later."

"Okay." I said and turned back to what I was reading. 

When I heard my door shut, I leaned on the backrest of my chair and closed my eyes for a moment to hold back my tears. "Alora Eunice... focus."

I opened my eyes and got back to studying.

It was already dark outside, yet I was still seated at my study table, finishing my review. Not long after, the helper came in to call me for dinner.

I stretched a little and fixed myself in front of the mirror. The puffiness around my eyes had faded—at least, not too noticeable anymore.

I took a deep breath before stepping out of my room and heading to the dining area. I froze for a moment when I saw Grandpa Ram and Grandma Tina already there, seated with Mom and Dad.

The food was served, but no one had started eating yet. It seemed they were waiting for me.

Despite the heaviness still sitting in my chest, especially toward Grandpa, I approached him and offered my hand to bless out of respect. Then I gave Grandma Tina a warm hug, letting her gentle presence soothe the part of me that still felt raw.

"Let's eat." Dad announced.

I was silently eating dinner while they were talking about politics.

“Is everything ready, Euren? The campaign period’s just around the corner. The Macaraigs won’t be easy to beat. They've held the seat for five straight terms,” Grandpa said, his tone firm, challenging Dad.

Dad had been in public service for years, deeply loved by the people for all he had accomplished. His name carried weight, even beyond our town.

“We have a good chance, Pa,” Dad replied. “Their image hasn’t been the same since the tragedy last year. Especially in nearby towns. But we can’t deny—people are still on their side.”

“Don’t worry, Euren. The De Herreras have pledged their support. Their family is our ace in this election.”

Grandpa turned his eyes to me, and suddenly, I found it hard to swallow the food in my mouth. There was something in his gaze—unspoken, heavy—like I was part of a plan he hadn’t voiced out loud.

“Pa, we talked about this...” Dad said with a weary tone.

“Hijo, I didn’t ask for their help. They offered. They no longer believe in how the Macaraigs are running things. They’re corrupt. It’s just that people don’t see it because they’re moving under the table.”

Grandpa asked for another glass of water, and Grandma Tina gently tapped his shoulder, urging him to calm down.

“But still...” Dad sighed, defeated. He looked like he’d lost his appetite.

On the other hand, Mom remained quiet—as expected. Any talk involving De Herreras seemed to shut her down. I never quite understood it, but whenever that family came up, Mom always wore the same expression—cold, withdrawn. Like old wounds were whispering to her.

When I finished eating, Mom finally spoke.

“Alora, don’t waste your time here. You still have a lot to study tonight.”

I nodded and wiped my lips with the paper towel. Then quietly excused myself from the table—leaving them in the middle of their discussion that was starting to say more than words ever could.