The harsh morning light pierced through the tall glass windows of our dining room, but it brought no warmth to the cold stiffness settling in my chest. I deliberately woke up at five in the morning, hours earlier than my usual routine. Gusto kong maunang umalis ng bahay. I couldn't handle another suffocating meal like last night, and frankly, I didn't want to see Sheira. I needed to be at the Capitol early, to bury myself in paperwork, and to clear my head before Saturday. But the moment I stepped into the kitchen, my feet froze. Sheira was already there, standing by the counter, preparing breakfast. She was wearing a simple house dress, her hair tied in a loose bun, looking completely domestic. She flinched when she heard my footsteps, turning around with a timid, hopeful smile that immediately made my defenses go up. "Tyler, ang aga mo ata?" she softly asked, wiping her hands on a towel. "I’m making breakfast. Let me make your coffee for you, just the way you like it." "No, t
آخر تحديث : 2026-10-20 اقرأ المزيد