All Chapters of More Than The Marriage (English): Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

My arms were crossed over my chest as I looked outside. Traffic crawled along EDSA, headlights unraveling into ribbons of red and white. Brake lights flickered like restless fireflies. In the reflection on my office window, the city melted into colors. Red. Blue. Yellow. Green. They shimmered through the blinds, scattering fractured patterns across my desk. Christmas was coming, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t feel it. Day bled into night, and night blurred into day. A routine that felt like a cage. Wake up, work, go home. Over and over. Without end. I couldn’t stop. Because if I did, the past might return—the feeling that I was never enough. Those days when I had to keep reminding myself that I was. So since then, every move I made became a quiet scream tha I can do this. One day, I’ll be enough too. But in the deepest, quietest corner of my mind, a whisper said—maybe I’ll never be. The intercom snapped me out of it. “Ma’am Aya, it’s already 6 p.m. Do yo

It wasn’t as hot as yesterday afternoon, but the air in San Felipe was still thick and sticky. Yet inside the mansion, it felt different. Every corner of this land seemed to hold its own story. From the peaceful koi pond, to the kalachuchi trees with their yellow-white blooms, to the rosal bushes I loved taking care of. I was kneeling by the greenhouse, holding a small dipper of water. In front of me was the rosal plant that my father and I had planted a year ago. It had grown taller now, fuller, its flowers blooming more than ever this summer. It was more fragrant, and more alive. “Hello again,” I whispered as I watered it. “You’re so beautiful. I hope you last long enough to see me grow up, too.” I opened my sketchpad and began to draw the curve of its leaves and blossoms. Simple as it was, I wanted to capture every detail. The rosal wasn’t just a plant to me. It was a friend. “Aya, you’re going to wear a hole through that paper,” my father joked from the other end of the g

The mansion was quiet at night. Not like in the barrio, where you could hear crickets, barking dogs, and the laughter of neighbors. Here, the silence was different. It was more orderly, and almost rhythmic. The soft footsteps of house staff in the hallway, the faint rustle of curtains, the distant clinking of dishes from the kitchen. I was at the back, helping Nanay and Manang Belen prepare for dinner. The scent of nilagang baka filled the air, mixed with the aroma of freshly cooked rice and the faint sweetness of wine prepared for the table. “Aya, bring this pitcher of water to the dining room,” Nanay instructed. She didn’t look at me, her focus on arranging dessert. “Me?” I asked, pausing with wet hands from washing. “Yes. Just go straight in, set it down at the end of the table, and come right back.” I took a deep breath, wiped my hands, and lifted the heavy pitcher. Before stepping out, I checked my reflection in the cabinet’s glass and smoothed my hair, tucking away stray s

If I looked back on the past year, it felt like a short film running endlessly at the back of my mind. All sunlight. All wind. All the scent of earth. And in the brightness of San Felipe, there were names I had slowly grown used to repeating quietly to myself.Sofia who always pulled me inside the mansion. And a… low voice, clear, with few words. But I could still feel it even now.I never said what or who it was. I never gave it a name. I never told anyone. But I knew it was real. Just like the lightness I felt every time I touched a newly sprouted plant.There were nights that stretched longer than others.On the veranda, I used to sketch while the light in the study stayed on. He sat there, head bowed over his papers. He never looked up, and I never looked directly. But I could feel it. We were both awake at the same hour, living in the same world.There were afternoons when my heart beat faster over simple things. Like when my pencil fell on the grass. Before I could reach for it

The air was cool as we climbed into the jeep on our way to the falls. Lianne and RJ were already inside, laughing, while Paolo passed the fare up to the manong driver. Sofia sat beside me in a summer dress and a wide-brimmed hat. She didn’t look like she had just come from Manila at all. She looked like she belonged to San Felipe, that’s how happy she was. “Are you excited?” she almost shouted over the roar of the engine. I nodded. “A bit. It’s been a while since I last went there.” She was smiling like she had a light of her own. Paolo had been talking to her earlier about waterfalls in other countries. And even though I didn’t want to dwell on it, but the interest in her eyes was obvious. Me? I watched the trees along the roadside, while my hand gripping my bag tightly. I was smiling as I looked at everyone else’s smiles. When we arrived, the heavy rush of water crashing from the high rocks greeted us at once. Mist filled the air, and the sound of the falls sounded like it had a