All Chapters of My marriage was for money, his for vengeance: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

5:34 AM — Penthouse, KitchenThe kettle clicked off. Steam curled up into the ceiling light, slow and silver. Elira stood by the stove, two mugs already waiting—ginger for her, barako for him. The window glass reflected a dim skyline in transition, city contours just beginning to surface.Caelan padded in barefoot, his hair still sleep-creased. “You’re tracing again.”She handed him his mug. “Not tracing. Listening. The work speaks back, sometimes.”He leaned against the counter beside her, their shoulders barely touching. “What’s it saying?”She glanced at the skyline. “That it doesn’t need us to speak for it anymore.”He sipped. “Then maybe we’re finally doing it right.”---8:17 AM — District Library, Children’s SectionThe storytime rug was packed—restless feet, knees bent, elbows thrust out. One volunteer sat cross-legged in front of them, holding aloft a locally published book. Figures drawn in crayon spilled across the page. Why We Share the Load, the cover stated, letters some

6:04 AM — Ferry Dock, South SectorFog crept along the edge of the water as the initial ferry came to rest. Dockworkers knotted rope without needing to communicate; the ropes had been handed down in the same way recipes were—remembered, not learned.A young conductor dispensed hand-painted tokens—bottle caps repurposed as tickets with district logos.One passenger, a grandmother carrying a basket with some care, took hers with a nod. "Still using these?"The conductor smiled. "Only until the next iteration. They're withholding for now.""Then let them withhold well," she replied.A silence. Then: "And let the next ones understand why we did this."---9:36 AM — Joint Assembly Room, Baytown DistrictThe room hummed with the scoot of chairs and shuffling paper. A meeting was in session—half-administrative, half-conversational. Bridge reinforcement plans, roof repairs to schools, language workshops cycled through discussion.Clause Seventeen, hand-painted on one side wall: Governance is

6:47 AM — Upland District, Community Signal HubThe dawn arrived tardily here, looping around tree shadows and wires that used to have power. Fog clung to the road, hesitating to lift.A teenager technician tapped the screen of a reconfigured tablet, aligning the orientation of a rooftop antenna. The connection flickered, then stabilized.He breathed out. "Signal's up."An old man standing behind him, wrapped in a knitted shawl even as the creeping warmth insisted on its presence, nodded. She put on her glasses to read the message coming through. "Clause Thirty-Five," she said. "A system is alive only if it hears what changes it."She cocked her head at him. "You hear that?"He struck the tablet casing once, as one would knock on a door. "I think so."She smiled. "Then it works."---9:18 AM — Plaza Shelter, Beneath the Banyan ShadeKids sat in a half-circle on flattened boxes, weaving twine through cut-out cardboard disks. They were creating small maps—some of houses, some of how wat

5:42 AM — Riverbank Lookout Post, South QuadrantMorning crept in gray and slow. Dew wet the rim of the monitoring devices set at the riverbank—scavenged thermometers, a water-quality strip, a retooled barometer.A student took vigil with her grandfather, notebook at the ready.She drummed pen on the wet cover. "You believe the river listens too?"The old man smiled. “It always has. The question is if we’re quiet enough to hear its reply.”She bent over the water log. The last entry from three days prior had faded, washed out from a sudden rain.She wrote under it in clear black ink:Clause Forty-Five (draft): Environments speak. Listening means returning often enough to hear when they change.---7:15 AM — Northern Corridor, Moving Distribution UnitWheels groaned as the mobile pantry traversed cracked concrete streets. Inside, the volunteers worked packing boxes—dry mongo, salt, powdered calamansi, measured rice into recycled coffee sacks.A midwife passed the lead volunteer a crump

6:11 AM — Courtyard Behind the Logistics TentThe early light broke in quiet colors, hardly cresting the tarp-covered rooftops. A kettle hissed over a small fire, steam curling around the chipped enamel lid.Caelan stood with two mugs of tea, both uneven in pour. He passed one to Elira without a word.She accepted it gratefully, hands curled around the warmth. "Did you sleep?"He nodded his head. "Did you?"She copied the motion.In front of them was a list on a folding table—smudged in the top left quadrant, notated in a few hands. It had the title: Clauses, 41 to Present — Verification & Internal Crosswalk.A young volunteer came over with a second clipboard. "Cross-referencing team sent this," she said, putting it down next to the tea mugs. "Clause Sixty-One may require a footnote. They've asked if 'first-listening systems' would benefit from a parenthetical definition."Elira nodded. "Noted."The volunteer looked uncertain. "Also. they thanked us."…children… message carried… shap