Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Whispers of my heart: Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 120

The snow fell softly outside, blanketing the city in silence.Inside Daniel’s apartment, the lights were low. Sophia had finally fallen asleep on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, her breathing slow and even. She had cried until there was nothing left, and he had stayed beside her, not speaking, just present.When he was sure she was asleep, Daniel moved quietly into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.He pulled out his phone.No hesitation.Just one number.It rang twice.Then Noah answered, voice light, casual. “Daniel? Man, it’s late. Everything okay?”“Yeah,” Daniel said, voice calm. “Just wanted to catch up. Been a while.”Noah chuckled. “Too long. We should grab drinks. I’ve been meaning to ask — how’s Sophia? I saw her on campus the other day.”“She’s fine,” Daniel said. “Busy with school. But good.”“Glad to hear it,” Noah said. “You two are… really serious, huh?”“We are,” Daniel said. “And I take that seriously.”A pause.Then Noah: “That’s cool, man. I respect that.”D

Daniel stepped into the apartment just as the sun dipped below the city skyline, painting the windows in soft streaks of amber and violet. The air inside was warm, thick with the scent of garlic, rosemary, and something sweet baking in the oven. A pot simmered on the stove. A loaf of bread sat cooling on the counter. The table was set for two — simple, but careful.Sophia stood by the stove, stirring a wooden spoon through a pot of tomato basil soup, her back to the door.She didn’t turn when he came in.But her shoulders relaxed.“You’re back.”Daniel dropped his keys on the counter, shrugged off his coat.“I am.”She turned then.And he saw it — not anger.Worry.Her eyes searched his face.His hands.His jaw.“You weren’t answering,” she said, voice quiet. “I called five times.”He exhaled. “I’m sorry. My phone died. I should’ve told you.”She didn’t scold.Didn’t press.Just walked over, touched his arm.“Are you okay?”He looked at her.And for a moment, he almost told her.About

The afternoon sun streamed through the dorm window, painting golden rectangles across the floor. Sophia knelt beside the bookshelf, dusting off old notebooks, stacking textbooks, folding scarves that had been tossed over chairs like forgotten flags. The room smelled of lavender spray and warm wool. Outside, the campus hummed — distant laughter, the crunch of boots on snow, the occasional shout from a passing group of friends.It was quiet.Peaceful.And then the door burst open.Not with noise.With force.Mira stood in the doorway, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, breath coming fast — not from running.From emotion.And before Sophia could speak, Mira crossed the room in three steps and pulled her into a hug so tight it nearly knocked her over.Sophia dropped the duster.Instinctively wrapped her arms around her.And felt it — the tremble in Mira’s shoulders.The wetness on her jacket.The quiet, steady breath against her neck.But these weren’t tears of heartbreak.They were tears of vict

The morning of the wedding dawned in gold.Not with fanfare.Not with chaos.But with quiet reverence.Winter had softened into early spring. The fields around Willow Creek Ranch were dusted with dew, the air crisp but kind. Cherry blossoms trembled on the trees, their petals drifting like snow in the breeze. Birds sang in the pines. A soft mist curled over the lake, dissolving as the sun rose.And at the heart of it all — the oak grove.Ancient.Sturdy.Sacred.The same tree where Nathan had carved his initials as a boy.Where Elena had once found him sitting alone, sketching the skyline.Where they had shared their first real kiss, beneath a sky full of stars.Now, it was strung with soft white lights, delicate garlands of ivy and wild roses, and lanterns that swayed gently in the wind. The aisle was lined with candles in glass jars, their flames flickering like tiny promises.And in the house, in the room that had once been Sophia’s as a child, Elena stood before the mirror.Dressed

The golden haze of evening deepened into twilight.The last notes of music faded into the soft hum of crickets and rustling leaves. The tables had been cleared, the wine glasses emptied, the cake — a simple, elegant tier of vanilla and raspberry — sliced and shared. Laughter still echoed in pockets across the oak grove, but the energy had softened. The celebration was winding down, not with sadness, but with full hearts.And now, it was time.Nathan and Elena stood near the old stone path, their luggage by their feet, coats wrapped around them. They were dressed simply now — Nathan in a dark sweater and jeans, Elena in a long cream coat, her hair loose, her smile radiant.They were leaving.For their honeymoon.For their first days as husband and wife.For the beginning of everything.Guests gathered around, not crowding, but close — a circle of love, of family, of those who had watched this love grow from quiet glances to a bond that could not be broken.Margaret stepped forward first