บททั้งหมดของ My marriage was for money, his for vengeance: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

6:02 AM – Penthouse BedroomThe rain wasn't heavy, but it was continuous. It whispered across the glass like a warning—soft, rhythmic, ceaseless. Elira blinked open in the pale blue dimness. The curtains were half drawn, the windows painted with rain trails. She reached across the bed.Caelan's side was still warm.She slowly sat up, heart clenching. There was something different about the silence this time that didn't soothe. It warned.She crept out to the balcony in bare feet.Caelan stood at the railing, already dressed in charcoal slacks and a black long-sleeve top, hair wet from showering. One hand cradled the phone against his ear, the other grasping hard on the rail."Yes. Confirm the breach. No, I don't care about the press—shut them out for now," he was saying. "We'll mobilize immediately. I'm coming down."He turned as she emerged.For once, he didn't sugarcoat the words."It's Talim," he said, voice dry and scraped. "The dam overflowed."---7:18 AM – Ferrer Foundation, Ma

6:18 AM – Penthouse Living RoomOutside the city had suddenly become abnormally bright, as if struggling too hard to show it had made people through. Elira stood with bare feet in the living room, wrapping the throw blanket closer around her shoulders, observing the skyline redefining itself in fresh-edged sunbeams.She heard Caelan getting up behind her—dragging footsteps, a zipper of a hoodie being yanked over a sleeveless top."Not going back to sleep?" he inquired, voice still hushed with sleep."I don't think I ever slept," she replied. "My dreams kept insisting that I wake up."He didn't question it. Instead, he headed past her for the kitchen, only to reappear a minute later holding a mug of hot cocoa.Coffee for the warriors," he told her, putting it in her hand. "But chocolate's for the ones who must feel safe once more."Elira blinked once, edges of her lips tightening. She did not thank him. She simply swallowed a sip and allowed herself to feel warm.---8:33 AM – Ferrer F

5:47 AM – Penthouse KitchenThe coffee dripped in slow drips, its aroma warm and earthy. Elira beside the counter, sleeves of Caelan's worn sweatshirt pushed past her hands. She observed the steam curl upwards, following paths unseen but certain.Caelan moved to stand beside her, hair wet, jaw slightly shadowed. "You didn't sleep much.""I didn't need much," she said, avoiding his gaze. Then, more truthfully: "I was afraid to dream."He didn't say what about. He simply put two mugs on the counter and spooned brown sugar into hers, as always.There was solace in the ritual. In deciding to start, again.---8:12 AM – Barangay Multipurpose Hall, Relief Distribution PointPlastic chairs scraped over tile floors. Outside, the queue snaked past the gate, tidy in spite of the heat. Inside, volunteers moved in choreographed rhythm—packing, passing on, recording.Elira stood behind the table of hygiene supplies. A woman with two children approached. One of the children clung to her skirt, wide

6:04 AM – Penthouse KitchenThe rice cooker beeped off with a quiet metallic noise. Elira, in her bare feet and half-asleep eyes, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic container of adobo from the night before. His hair was disheveled, his shirt turned inside out. He blinked as if a man recently reacquainted with mornings."Elira?"She extended a mug. "Welcome to the world of the awake."He took a sip, nodded with obvious respect. "Miraculous."She sat opposite him. “We’re meeting Nika at 8, then heading to District Four.”“That’s the one with the school gym converted into a shelter?”“Yeah. They need storage boxes and ceiling fans. And a working megaphone.”Caelan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. I’ll check the audio stock.”They didn’t say much else—but the silence didn’t ache. It folded around them like a morning fog: present, dense, but beginning to lift.---8:18 AM – District Four School ShelterKids shrieked over improvised play areas constructed out of crates

4:59 AM – Penthouse, KitchenRain had subsided to mist. Elira poured scalding water over the grounds of coffee in a hand press, careful not to spill. The silence was not oppressive—it was expectation.Caelan came out, in bare feet, pulling a hoodie on over his head. "You're up early."She nodded, observing steam coiling upward. "We have that early logistics meeting. And I couldn't sleep."He rested against the counter. "Too much on your mind?""Too many threads," she murmured. "Some of them feel like they're pulling away from each other."Caelan accepted the cup she offered him. "Then we knot what we can."---7:23 AM – Ferrer Foundation, Operations RoomWhiteboards filled the walls, marked up with maps, timetables, and contact trees. Nika stood in front of the biggest one, marker at the ready."Elira, Caelan—good to have you both here. We've got confirmed delays on District Five mobile clinic. Flooding on the service road held up the convoy.""Reroute or moto-triage?" Caelan asked."