Chapter Four: When Pretend Feels Real

=Sera's POV=

9:23 a.m.

Pre-shoot

“Hindi na ba pwedeng mag-back out?” tanong ko habang sinusuklay ng stylist ang buhok ko into effortless waves—na ironically took forty minutes and three products.

Celeste, my ever-graceful mother-in-law by contract, smiled from the hallway.

“Sweetheart, just smile and sparkle. This is good press. Mas madali ang business deals kapag mahal kayo ng publiko.”

Right. Because nothing screams business merger like pretending to be in love in front of a lifestyle magazine.

Damien walked in just then, fresh from a quick suit change, sleeves rolled, smile manufactured.

“Ready to play house, Mrs. Vale?”

“Only if you promise not to burn it down, Mr. Vale.”

We shared a smirk.

Fake it 'til you make it.

✴✴✴

10:02 a.m.

Living Area – Scene 1: The Interview

Cameras. Lights. Overpriced flowers. And us—posing like we were born to be the cover of PH Luxe Living’s Power Couple Edition.

“So, Seraphina, what’s one thing you learned about Damien after getting married?”

I glanced at him, his arm draped casually over my shoulder, as if it belonged there.

“He takes his coffee black… and his mornings quiet.”

“And Damien?”

He tilted his head, voice steady.

“She leaves the windows open at night. Claims the stars help her think.”

My breath caught. I never told him that.

Maybe he noticed.

The host beamed. “Wow. You two really know each other.”

Oh, if only they knew.

✴✴✴

10:48 a.m.

Scene 2: Kitchen Chaos

“Okay, kitchen shot na!” sigaw ng director. “Prepare something simple. Maybe a sandwich or coffee—gusto lang namin yung cozy energy.”

Cozy? With Damien?

I will just trade my soul to the devil to say that the truth is—it's the opposite energy if this is not for a camera.

I tied an apron around my waist. He rolled his sleeves, looking criminally calm.

“So, chef?” tanong ko, pulling out a loaf of bread. “Ano bang specialty mo?”

“I command kitchens. Doesn't mean I enter them. You cook?”

"I reheat." Tumawa ako. "I guess two helpless rich kids are about to make a sandwich?"

We started fumbling through the fridge. I found tomatoes. He found questionable cheese. I tried slicing. He tried spreading mayo. Disaster.

“You’re holding that knife like a villain,” he complained.

"Relax. Hindi kita sasaksakin," I teased, smiling sideways.

"Yet," he replied smoothly, holding my hand to get the knife out in front of him. "Careful. It's sharp. Like your tongue."

Umirap ako. “Says the man who thinks mayo goes after the lettuce.”

“Innovation, Navarro.”

“Abomination, Vale.”

The cameras clicked nonstop as we bickered like we’d done this forever.

I sliced tomatoes while Damien tried to spread mayo on bread.

"You're butchering that sandwich," I said, shaking my head.

"Says the girl squinting at a tomato like it just insulted her," he fired back.

"Excuse me, I'm measuring my cuts. Aesthetics matter." I smiled, pretending what he said was laughable.

"Right. Can't feed the press ugly tomatoes, Mrs. Vale."

And somewhere in between the laughter and the mess, I caught myself smiling, genuinely, for real. There was a strange ease in it. Not real, maybe. But not fake either. 

✴✴✴

11:30 a.m.

Scene 3: The Laundry Shot

Whoever planned this shoot had a twisted sense of humor.

“Magkasama kayo sa floor. Fold clothes. 'Yung very couple-next-door vibe. Okay?” sabi ng director.

I sat on the rug, legs crossed, folding perfectly ironed shirts I didn’t even know we owned. Damien joined, his movements surprisingly… gentle.

“You’ve done this before?” I asked, half-teasing.

“Boarding school laundry,” he said. “Turns out prestige doesn’t include wrinkle-free uniforms.”

We folded in silence for a few minutes.

But something was off.

Damien wasn’t performing anymore. His face had softened. His fingers brushed mine when we both reached for the same shirt. Neither of us pulled away.

“You okay?” tanong ko.

He looked at me. Quiet. Steady.

“Yeah. Just... this is the first quiet I’ve had in days.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I just handed him the next shirt.

“Welcome to domestic bliss, Vale.”

He chuckled. But it wasn’t his usual cold laugh.

It was real. It was soft, gentle. Genuine. The one that you don't expect to come. 

✴✴✴

1:00 p.m.

End of Shoot

When the crew finally left, silence returned to the penthouse. But it wasn’t heavy this time.

Damien poured himself water, still in his rolled-up sleeves, and looked at me from across the kitchen.

“We pulled it off,” he said.

“Convincingly.”

“You were... less annoying than usual.”

“Wow. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

He smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

But as he walked past me, his hand brushed against mine again.

This time, it wasn’t for the camera.

And I didn’t pull away.