Lahat ng Kabanata ng Your brother, my husband : Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Naomi's POV The day started like any normal day.Sunlight poured over hardwood floors. The kitchen was filled with the scent of coffee. Miranda warbled off key as she painted flowers on rocks outside.But something was different about this morning.Raymond had departed after breakfast on the pretext of errands. Beatrice took Miranda away midmorning on a sly wink. And I was left alone in this big house. I felt lonely though, like as if something precious has left me.---I wandered the house the entire day, I was agitated. I started cleaning things that weren't dirty, started Folding things that were already folded just to get myself busy and from being bored.When the doorbell rang around sunset, I jumped out of where I was to get it. I didn't care who was there but I was happy someone was home.With excitement in my heart, I opened the door–And i found a single white rose tied up by a velvet ribbon.A note was left inside the ribbon.> “Come to the garden.Love, R.I trembled a bi

Naomi's pointWaking up that morning of my wedding day felt like a dream and I wasn't sure if I should wake up from it.It was not the kind of dream where you wake up and forget.It was the kind of dream you step into with open eyes, breathless, terrified, and completely in awe.Beatrice stood behind me, smoothing my curls into waves as warm light streamed in through open windows."You are quite baby," she said quietly.I'm afraid I'll cry if I talk.She smiled, already tear-filled eyes. "Then cry if you need to. You've earned every tear."Sure,The beach – scenes from the wedding ceremonyThe sun was setting, warming the sand in a gentle golden glow. The waves rolled in quietly, almost as if attempting not to breathe also.I was standing behind a white curtain threaded through by strings of fairy lights, dressed in a flowing, lacey gown cascading down my arms. My feet were buried deep in warm beach sand.But my heart ached.My parents were not alive. No one would give me away at the a

Naomi's POV The wheels of the plane gently touched down on the runway, and just like that, paradise was behind us but when Raymond reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers, I knew for sure—I hadn't left paradise. I was right there with it because he belonged to me, and we were heading home… together.Home.That word sounded different now, it was sweeter, Fuller and more real to say.The ride from the airport was serene, quiet. We did not speak much. We just held hands and shared the occasional smile that said so much without needing to say anything. We rode in silence, the city lights giving way to familiar streets lined with oak trees. Every corner, every cracked sidewalk, felt like a bookmark in my past—pages I’d feared lost forever and I had been looking forward to meeting her—Miranda.Beatrice had been wonderful throughout the week.She was always checking in and sending photos of my daughter but Now, though, I simply want to have my daughter in my arms once again, hear th

Naomi's POV The next morning began slowly, not the slow, dragging manner to which I'd grown accustomed before—but the comfortable rhythm of normal life. The first thing I heard was the very beautiful voice of my lovely daughter. Her voice greeted me with the soft song coming from her bedroom, her voice drifting from room to room like birdsong. Her voice was like a cold water that melted my heart.I simply remained there for some minute, I wasn't running away from anything, I wasn't scared of anything either. I just want to live in the moment from now on and with that in mind, I felt what I had not allowed myself to feel in a very long time—peace.………..Downstairs was already bubbling, I was greeted by the smell of freshly made coffee. And there was Raymond, he was up already, dressed in gray trousers and a black button-down, his hair slightly rumpled from his rushed grooming.You're turning into an early bird and it's making me look like the lazy, spoiled bride, I teased, grabbin

Naomi’s POVThe community room buzzed with purpose—paper signs flapping as fans whirred, the clink of coffee mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter from women packing kits and sorting supplies. I moved among them with a quiet ease, clipboard in hand, offering direction when needed and silent company when words weren’t enough.About three weeks ago, I was too afraid to step inside this place, too shy to even be seen. Now, it felt like one of the few rooms or places where I didn’t have to pretend to be strong—I just was myself.“Naomi, do you want us to donate these shoes by size or style?” one of the volunteers asked.“Size please,” I said. “Let’s keep it simple.”She nodded and smiled, moving off with her box. I stared after her for a moment, marveling at how normal this felt. Like I belonged again—not just as a mother or wife, but as me.I have always loved volunteering or anything involving empowerment since when I was at school and I'm glad I'm not allowing my status come bet