Panasonic Camera Gx85

Sa loob ng siyam na taon, buong pusong ginampanan ni Isabelle Reyes-Santiago ang pagiging isang perpektong ina at asawa. Tahimik siyang sumuporta kay Lucas—sa kanyang negosyo, sa kanyang reputasyon, at sa kanyang ambisyon. Nanahimik siya sa likod ng camera, sa mga board meeting na hindi siya inanyayahan, at sa mga sandaling kailangan niya ng karamay pero wala ni isang halik o salitang ginhawa ang kanyang nakuha. Ang mas masakit? Wala siyang lugar sa sariling tahanan. Hindi lang si Lucas ang may paboritong kasama. "Mas gusto ko si Tita Karina kaysa kay Mommy!"—sambit ng anak nilang si Marcus habang nakangiti si Lucas, tila sang-ayon. Ginawa na ni Isabelle ang lahat para mapanatiling buo ang kanilang pamilya. Pero imbes na pagmamahal at respeto, ang gantimpala niya’y pagtataksil at pangungutya. Habang binubura siya mula sa buhay ng asawa’t anak, si Karina Sison—ang ex ng kanyang asawa—ang inilalagay sa pedestal. Ginawang presidente. Ginawang reyna. Hanggang sa dumating ang gabing iyon. Ang gabing tuluyan siyang nagising sa katotohanan—na minsan, kahit gaano mo kamahal, hindi mo na kayang manatili sa isang lugar na matagal ka nang hindi pinipiling mahalin pabalik. Pagod na siyang umasa. Pagod na siyang maging tanong sa pamilyang matagal nang may sagot—at hindi siya iyon. Kaya handa na siyang magpalaya. Handa na siyang iwan ang tahanang dati niyang ipinaglaban, sa piling ng mga taong mas masaya nang wala siya. Ngunit nang sa wakas ay iniabot na niya ang annulment papers sa kanyang asawa… Hindi galit ang sumalubong sa kanya. Hindi rin pakiusap. Kundi isang malamig na titig lang. Isang mapanganib na ngiti. At ang mga salitang… “You’re not going anywhere, Isabelle.”

The day my brother, Chester Rodney, came to the orphanage to take me home, my boyfriend Dominic Huxley looked at me coldly and said, "If you choose to acknowledge your birth family, we're over." I knew he had his pride—he could never accept the difference in our social standing. So, for him, I turned my back on the family I had yearned for my whole life. In the decades that followed, I toiled without complaint, saving every cent to help him rise to success. By the time I was not yet fifty, overwork had worn me down. Lying on my deathbed, my breathing shallow and weak, I watched Dominic on television. He was now an acclaimed scientist, just awarded the nation's highest research honor. Tears welled in his eyes as he thanked another woman. "All these years," he said, "I never felt worthy of Alicia. But now, maybe I can use this award as the prologue to a love I've owed her for decades." The "Alicia" he spoke of was the woman mistakenly switched with me at birth—the false heiress the Rodney family raised as their own. The camera zoomed out. Alicia Rodney stood radiant, graceful, and perfectly preserved by years of luxury, blushing as she accepted the trophy. "I waited for you for decades," she said sweetly, "but marriage is still something I'll need to ask my brother about." Chester, who had long taken over the family, looked at her with an indulgent tenderness tinged with something unspoken. "I was adopted by our uncle back then for one reason—to protect Alicia. Making the only princess of the Rodney family happy has always been my life's mission." Only then did I realize—everything I thought I had chosen freely, every sacrifice I made without regret, was nothing but a trap, carefully woven by two men, all for Alicia. The betrayal pierced my heart. I died without peace. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Chester came to take me home from the orphanage. I glanced past the two men eyeing me with subtle disdain. Without hesitation, I stepped into the car. "Take me home," I said. This time, I'd send whoever stole my life back to the gutter they slithered from.

On Christmas Eve, my father got the man I had secretly loved for ten years drunk and sent him to my bed. When I woke up the next morning, Roy pulled away from my attempt at a good-morning kiss. His voice was cold and distant as he agreed to marry me. After the wedding, Roy wasted no time submitting a transfer request. He took an overseas post and left. He did not return for five years. I gave birth to our daughter, Eve, alone and waited for him to come back home. When I heard that Roy had finally applied to return to a domestic position, I was overjoyed. I spent days preparing, imagining our first reunion as husband and wife. But even when the clock struck midnight, he still hadn't come home. Our daughter, ever so thoughtful, placed her most treasured possession—a photograph of Roy—into my hands. "Don't cry, Mommy," she said softly. "Look, Daddy's right here." I tried to convince myself that his absence was due to a delayed flight. But later that night, while watching the news, I saw him. He was on a crowded city street, holding a young girl in his arms. Beside him stood a woman, her smile soft and warm. Facing the camera, Roy said, "Being with them is my greatest wish." At that moment, something inside me broke. I wrote up the divorce papers, packed our things, and planned to take Eve to change her identity. I didn't want him anymore. The day before we left, a man I had never met came to see me. He was Roy's father. "You could call me Dad," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I'd rather you call me Ryan." I told him everything about the past five years—how I had waited, how I had hoped. When I finished, he laughed softly, an unusual warmth in his voice. "If it was just business," he said, "perhaps your father should have tied a bow around me and sent me to your bed instead. But I hold my liquor well—if I ever end up wrapped in a bow, you can be sure it's by choice."