CHAPTER 2

Althea's POV

The air in Daniel’s province felt different the second we stepped off the bus—thicker, warmer, carrying the scent of trees, dust, and something sweet I couldn’t name. Manila always smelled like rain on concrete and exhaust. Here, the wind smelled alive, like it didn’t have anywhere urgent to be.

Daniel grabbed our bags as if they weighed nothing. “Welcome home,” he said, grinning, his eyes shining the way they always did whenever he talked about this place.

People moved slower here. They stared longer, not necessarily unkindly—just openly, like privacy was a city habit they never learned. I held myself the way I had practiced for months as Althea Balmes: ordinary, quiet, unremarkable. A girl who belonged anywhere because she belonged nowhere in particular.

Except my chest didn’t feel ordinary.

Daniel flagged down a tricycle and we rode through narrow roads lined with small homes and bright storefronts faded by sun. Children ran barefoot near the roadside. Someone called Daniel’s name as we passed, waving like he was part of the landscape.

Daniel waved back easily. “See?” he said over the engine’s hum, leaning closer to me. “This is what I wanted you to see. It’s simple. Peaceful.”

Peaceful. He said it like a promise.

I nodded, watching the scenery blur into green and brown. But the farther we went, the more I felt like I was walking into a place where secrets didn’t survive. Towns like this didn’t just notice faces—they remembered them.

We stopped in front of a modest house with a low fence and potted plants by the gate. The paint was chipped in places, but everything looked cared for, lived in. Daniel hopped off first, then offered me his hand as if I was something precious.

Before I could take in anything else, the gate swung open and a woman hurried out, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Daniel!” she cried, hugging him tightly. Then she pulled back, holding his face like she needed to confirm he was real. “You’re home.”

His mother.

My throat tightened, but I kept my smile steady. Daniel turned toward me, his expression proud.

“Ma,” he said, “this is Althea. My fiancée.”

The word fiancée made her eyes widen. Then she took my hands, warm and firm, and looked at me the way mothers do when their sons place their future in someone else’s hands.

“Oh,” she breathed, smiling quickly. “You’re prettier than Daniel described.”

Daniel laughed. I laughed too, a little breathless, because her grip didn’t loosen. She was kind, but she was also measuring—taking in my face, my posture, my clothes, deciding whether I fit.

“Come inside,” she said. “Everyone’s waiting.”

Inside, the house smelled like rice and garlic and something fried. Family and neighbors crowded the living room, greeting Daniel like he was a hero returning from war. Hands reached for mine. Smiles flashed. Questions came quickly.

Where was I from? What did I do? How did we meet?

I answered carefully, keeping my voice light. “I work at the mall,” I said. “That’s where we met.” It was true, just not the whole truth.

Then a laugh came from the doorway—bright, playful, too confident.

“Dan! You’re finally here!”

I turned.

Gia walked in like she owned the room.

She was younger than me, with glossy hair, smooth skin, and a smile that showed too much teeth. She wore shorts and a fitted top like the heat didn’t touch her. Her eyes flicked over me quickly—head to toe—then she grinned as if we were already friends.

“So you’re Althea,” she said, cheerful. “Hi!”

Before I could respond, she threw her arms around Daniel’s neck and hugged him—tight, lingering. Daniel laughed and patted her back like it was normal, like it was nothing.

“Gia,” Daniel said, still smiling. “My childhood friend. She’s basically my little sister.”

Little sister.

Gia pulled back slowly, still too close, and faced me. “Congratulations on the engagement,” she said sweetly. Then she leaned in as if sharing something private. “Finally. Took you a while to get Dan.”

The words struck sharper than they should have. Get Dan. 

I forced a small smile. “Thank you.”

Gia’s grin widened, satisfied, and she moved deeper into the house, laughing with Daniel’s cousins like she had always belonged there. Like she had never needed to introduce herself, because everyone already knew who she was.

The rest of the evening blurred into food and small talk. Daniel’s mother served plates as if feeding me was part of approving me. Someone joked about grandkids. Someone asked if I could cook. Someone teased Daniel for finally “settling down.” Every now and then, I felt Gia’s gaze on me—quick glances that vanished whenever I turned.

Later, Daniel and I found a quiet moment outside. The night sky looked different here—darker, deeper, scattered with stars Manila never allowed me to see.

Daniel took my hand. “Are you okay?” he asked gently. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m fine,” I said, because it was the easiest answer.

He studied me. “You sure?”

I nodded. “Just tired.”

He kissed my forehead like he always did, soft and familiar. “Tomorrow we’ll fix the papers,” he said. “Then we’ll prepare for the wedding. It’s going to be simple, Althea."

I nodded, but my eyes drifted to the window. I could see Gia inside, laughing with the family like she was stitched into the house itself. When she noticed me looking, she lifted her hand and waved—slowly, deliberately.

Then she smiled.

It looked friendly on the surface, but something about it made my stomach tighten. Like a warning dressed up as sweetness.

I tightened my grip on Daniel’s hand and told myself not to overthink. I reminded myself why I was here—why I had chosen this life, this name, this disguise.

I wanted love that was real.

I wanted a life that wasn’t shaped by the Bailey surname and all the power that came with it.

I wanted to believe Daniel loved me.

That night, lying in the unfamiliar room, I stared at the ceiling and listened to the house breathe—footsteps, murmurs, soft laughter somewhere down the hall.

My fingers found my ring again. I pressed my thumb to the band and tried to convince myself the heaviness in my chest was only nerves.