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Lahat ng Kabanata ng Your Uncle, My True Love: Kabanata 81 - Kabanata 90

160 Kabanata

81. When the Past Shows Its Teeth

The next morning, Emma was already preparing for a meeting. Upstairs, the main conference room had been carefully arranged—the presentation screen lit up, fabric samples neatly laid out along the long table, and the logo of a renowned international brand displayed prominently on the screen. This collaboration was no small matter. If successful, Emma’s name would finally stand alongside designers she had once admired only from afar.She stepped out of the elevator, adjusting the tablet in her hand. She wore a simple cream blazer, her hair pinned neatly back—nothing excessive, but enough to reflect both her position and her confidence. She took a steady breath. She was ready.But just a few steps from the meeting room, a woman’s voice stopped her.“So you’re Emma Taylor?”The tone was cold, arrogant, as though the question did not truly require an answer.Emma stopped. Turned.A woman stood a short distance away, dressed in an expensive dark suit. Her posture was rigid, chin slightly li

82. A Single Sheet of Design

James gently patted Emma’s back, as if making sure her heartbeat returned to its natural rhythm.“I won’t give her any space,” he said calmly. “Not in this house. Not in our lives.”Emma nodded. She trusted James—not because of promises, but because of the way he stood beside her without needing many words. That night, they shared a simple dinner, trading light stories about Ethan, who had begun taking brave little steps without holding on. The child’s soft laughter closed a day that had nearly been torn apart.But the next morning, that calm was tested again.At the office, Emma received a brief email from the company’s legal team:There is a request for a meeting from an external party regarding a claim over an old design’s copyright. Contact name: E. Laurent.Emma’s heart gave a quiet jolt. Elora.She reread the email. The language was formal, restrained—but between the lines, Emma could sense intentions far from simple.Emma called her assistant.“Put it on hold,” she said. “Ask f

83. The Failed Design

Night fell quickly as Elora left the building. City lights reflected off the windshield of her car, forming broken streaks of brightness—much like the fragments of her thoughts. On the passenger seat, a black folder lay open. Inside it, a single sheet of paper—a gown design—looked ordinary to an untrained eye. To Elora, it was opportunity. She smiled faintly. Not to wear. Not to present under her own name. Elora was not that foolish. The car stopped in front of a small studio on the outskirts of the city. The building was old, its paint peeling, but inside it lived raw ambition—the kind easily ignited by promises. Elora stepped in without hesitation. A young man looked up from his desk, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the unexpected visitor. “You came,” he said, almost in disbelief. Elora pulled out the paper and placed it on the table with deliberate slowness. “You’ll succeed with this design.” The man—Arvin—leaned over it, studying the sketch for a long moment.

84. A Game Without an Opponent

Emma did not answer right away. She set the tablet down on the table.“Stealing is too easy a word,” she finally said. “And far too simple.”James leaned back against the kitchen counter. “But that design is clearly yours.”“It used to be,” Emma corrected softly. “Not anymore.”James fell silent. He had known Emma long enough to understand that her calm was not denial—it was a decision. She always knew which battles were worth fighting, and which ones needed to be released before they turned toxic.“You’re not angry?” James asked.Emma smiled faintly. “I was angry at myself when I made it. That design truly failed.”Later, Emma sat in her studio. The desk lamp glowed dimly as she reopened an old folder on her laptop—an archive of designs she had rarely touched since her life changed. There, stored quietly, was the digital version of the design now circulating everywhere.She enlarged it. Traced every line.But the longer she stared, the clearer its flaws became.The design was harsh.

85. Proving What Was Already True

The night sky hung low as Emma stood on the balcony, cradling a cup of tea that had begun to cool. The city below shimmered, yet her mind was calm—not empty, but ordered. Like a worktable freshly cleared after a long project.Behind her, James closed the glass door softly, his steps careful not to disturb the silence.“Do you want company,” he asked, his voice as gentle as the glow of the living room lights, “or would you rather be alone?”Emma turned, offering a small smile. “Stay.”James stood beside her. They didn’t touch, yet the distance felt right—close enough to share warmth, loose enough to breathe. A few seconds passed without words. Below them, the sound of traffic flowed like a current that didn’t need to be understood.“I got an email from that brand’s legal team,” Emma said at last. “They want to extend the contract. With creative clauses that are… more flexible.”James raised an eyebrow. “That’s good news.”“It is,” Emma replied. Her gaze followed the lines of light in t

86. Protecting

Elora didn’t go home that night. Her final thought—one she hadn’t even spoken aloud to anyone—kept circling in her mind like an echo unwilling to fade. She drove without a clear destination until she finally stopped in the parking lot of a business hotel in the city center.Inside the quiet car, Elora opened her phone and searched for a name she had avoided for a long time.Harry.The name appeared alongside fragments of old news, gossip that had never fully disappeared: a failed marriage, a shocking pregnancy, a man who had left too soon. Elora read carefully, noting the gaps she believed could be exploited. If there was one thing she understood well, it was how to read ambition and guilt in people.The next morning, Elora arranged a meeting. Brief. Professional. She mentioned a single keyword—one powerful enough to draw attention.Emma.They met at a quiet hotel bar, in the middle of the day when the lighting felt excessive. Harry arrived in a plain shirt, his face thinner than Elor

87. The Family We Choose

Elora remained seated long after Harry had left. The chair across from her was empty, yet the echo of his words still lingered—sharp, honest, leaving no room to escape. The coffee in front of her had gone completely cold. She lifted the cup, took a small sip, then set it down again with slow care, as if the bitterness on her tongue felt all too familiar.For the first time, her plan had collapsed with no strategy left to salvage it.Elora closed her eyes. And like a tide she could no longer hold back, her memories retreated to a point she had long forced into the darkest corner of her mind.James, years ago.He had never been harsh. Never controlling. That, in fact, was what Elora once considered his weakness. James loved her quietly—arriving on time, listening patiently, showing up without grand promises. He offered a stable future, a life without noise.And Elora grew bored.In Elora’s world, love had to be dramatic. It had to drain emotion. It had to make someone feel desired every

88. Choosing What Is Right, Even If It Comes Late

Morning arrived with a gentle light filtering through sheer curtains. Emma woke first, hearing James’s steady breathing beside her and Ethan’s small murmurs from the next room. A quiet gratitude settled in her chest—not euphoria, but certainty. She rose softly, brewed coffee, then opened the kitchen window. Fresh air flowed in, carrying the clean scent of morning.On the table, her phone vibrated. An email from the same design museum—an invitation to continue discussions for a residency program, focused on mentoring young designers. Emma smiled. It wasn’t a grand stage she was pursuing now, but continuity. Offering direction, not chasing the spotlight.James appeared in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled. “You’re already up.”“I am,” Emma replied. “There’s good news.”James poured himself some coffee. “I like the way you say that. Unrushed.”Emma looked at him. “Because I’m no longer running.”They shared a simple breakfast. Ethan emerged with unsteady steps, clutching his favo

89. Old Instincts at Work

Night fell slowly, bringing air colder than usual. The house remained warm—not only because the lights were on, but because a small rhythm had formed naturally within it. In the kitchen, the steady sound of knife against cutting board filled the space. James stood wearing a simple apron, sleeves rolled up, focused as he chopped vegetables.They had a housekeeper, but James liked cooking for his wife and child himself.Ethan slept on the sofa, his stuffed toy trapped between his arms.Emma sat at the dining table with her laptop open, though her attention drifted more than once—not to the screen, but to James. There was something in the way he cooked—calm, deliberate, as if he were giving meaning to things so often dismissed as mundane.“Aren’t you tired?” Emma asked at last.James glanced over briefly. “Cooking is therapy,” he said lightly. “Besides, this is for the people I love most. So this is my part.”Emma smiled again, warmth spreading through her chest.James added the final se

90. The Ambulance and Old Memories

The next morning, James had to leave earlier than usual. He had an important meeting at the office and didn’t have time to prepare breakfast for Emma.“Go,” Emma said gently. “I’ll just have cereal later.” She hugged James briefly before he returned it with a lingering kiss.“Tonight,” James promised, “I’ll make dinner for you.”Before truly leaving, James peeked into Ethan’s room for a moment—taking in the small face he wouldn’t get to hug before work.The meeting room was quiet—too quiet for James. The projector displayed slowly moving graphs, and one of his colleagues spoke in a neat, professional cadence. James sat at the far end of the table, fingers interlaced, only half present. Since morning, a strange feeling had clung to him—not a sense of impending disaster, more like unease without a clear cause.His phone vibrated on the table. One short buzz, then silence. James glanced at the screen. An unknown number. He ignored it and returned his gaze to the presentation. A few secon

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