Chapter 3

Yna remained seated long after Gabriel Valesquez left her office.

The door had closed softly, yet the silence that followed felt deafening. Her fingers hovered above the paperwork on her desk, unmoving, as his words replayed relentlessly in her mind.

I want to be your future.

She pressed her lips together, forcing a steady breath. This was ridiculous. She had faced murderers without trembling, cross examined liars without blinking. And yet one man, with calm eyes and an honest voice, had unsettled her more than any courtroom ever had.

She stood abruptly, pacing the length of her office. Her heart refused to calm down, her thoughts spiraling despite every effort to regain control. She hated this feeling this vulnerability, this crack in the order she had built with such precision.

Why him? Why now?

She leaned against her desk, closing her eyes. And as she did, memories she had spent years locking away began to surface, uninvited and relentless.

Life had never been gentle with Yna Reyes.

Her childhood had been shaped by loss before she even understood what loss truly meant. Her father kind, patient, and endlessly encouraging had been the one constant in her young life. He used to tell her that strength wasn’t loud, that resilience lived in quiet determination. When illness took him, it felt as though the world had lost its color.

Her mother tried to stay strong, but grief hollowed her out. The house grew colder, quieter. And one morning, Yna woke to a silence that screamed louder than any sound. Her mother was gone, leaving behind a young girl who learned too early what it meant to be alone.

Relatives took her in, but never with warmth. She was treated as an obligation, a burden another mouth to feed, another reminder of a tragedy they wanted to forget. But Yna did not break. She adapted.

She worked relentlessly three part time jobs at once. Early mornings delivering newspapers. Afternoons tutoring children younger than herself. Weekends spent on her feet in a café, smiling through exhaustion. She learned how to survive on little sleep, little food, and no comfort.

One night, after a particularly brutal shift, she broke down in the café’s storage room. Her body slid down the wall, her hands shaking as tears fell freely.

That was when Lily found her.

“Yna?” Lily whispered, alarmed.

“I’m fine,” Yna said quickly, wiping her face. “I just need a minute.”

Lily didn’t argue. She sat beside her, gently pulling her into an embrace.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” she said softly.

“I do,” Yna whispered. “If I stop, everything falls apart.”

“Then lean on me,” Lily replied. “Just for tonight.”

Yna cried until her chest ached, until the weight felt slightly lighter. That was the night Lily became family.

Years passed. School became her sanctuary. Law school became her battlefield. And eventually, the courtroom became her armor.

Back in the present, Yna opened her eyes, her chest tight. Gabriel’s presence had awakened something she had long buried—the part of her that once believed in warmth, connection, and safety.

Her phone buzzed. Lily.

“You’ve been quiet,” Lily said immediately. “That never ends well. What happened?”

Yna hesitated. “Someone… came into my office today.”

“Someone important?”

“Someone confusing.”

A pause.

“I’m coming to get you,” Lily said.

“I still have work—”

“Yna.”

That was all it took.

Minutes later, Yna stepped out of the firm to find Lily waiting. No questions were asked as she got into the car. They drove in comfortable silence until the city lights opened up before them.

Marco and Tali were already there, sitting on the familiar spot overlooking the skyline. Marco stood the moment he saw Yna.

“You look exhausted,” he said, brows furrowing. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Yna replied.

Marco crossed his arms. “That’s never true.”

Tali smirked. “Relax, bodyguard. She just needs wine.”

Marco shot her a look. “I’m serious.”

“And you’re dramatic,” Tali replied cheerfully, pouring wine into cups.

They settled onto the grass. The breeze was gentle, the city glowing beneath them. Yna wrapped her arms around her knees, staring ahead.

“So,” Tali said lightly, “are we drinking because of childhood trauma or a man?”

Marco stiffened. “A man?”

Yna sighed. “It’s not like that.”

Marco leaned closer. “Is someone bothering you?”

“No,” she said quickly. “He’s just… persistent.”

Marco’s jaw tightened. “What kind of persistent?”

Tali laughed. “Oh, look at you. Jealous already?”

“I’m not jealous,” Marco snapped. “I’m protective.”

“Same thing,” Tali teased.

Lily gently nudged Yna. “Do you like him?”

“I don’t know,” Yna admitted quietly. “That’s what scares me.”

Marco softened. “If he hurts you”

“He won’t,” Yna said, surprising herself. “I don’t think he would.”

Silence fell, heavy but understanding.

“Just… take it slow,” Lily said. “You deserve someone who doesn’t rush you.”

“I will,” Yna said softly. “I think… I want to.”

Tali smiled knowingly. “There it is. The first hint of actual excitement. Don’t fight it too much, lawyer lady.”

“I’m not fighting it,” Yna murmured. “Just… cautious.”

Marco grunted. “Good. But if he ever crosses a line, you call me. Got it?”

“Got it,” she replied, allowing herself a small smile.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, Gabriel’s voice echoed again in her mind. Not demanding. Not forcing.

I’ll wait.

Her heart clenched not with fear this time, but with something dangerously close to hope.

For the first time in her carefully controlled life, Yna Reyes wondered what would happen if she stopped running from the very thing she had been surviving without.

And as sleep finally took her, she let herself imagine not loudly, not dramatically, just quietly the possibility of someone stepping beside her, patiently, gently, without demanding.

For once, that possibility felt safe.

I just hope, i just only hope that all of tha are all real.