Three years passed.
The skyline had changed. Wendy had too.
She stood at the glass window of her Rivera & Co. office, watching the Manila traffic crawl like a trail of glittering ants. Her desk was cleared out, her nameplate gone. Just a box in her hands—documents, a framed photo of her and Jace and the necklace from her mother.
"Ma'am Wendy," her secretary said tearfully. "We'll miss you so much."
Wendy smiled, hugging her. "Thank you. You've been my light on long days."
She walked out of the building without fanfare, head high, heart at peace.
Outside, the city buzzed on, unaware of the quiet milestone. A black SUV pulled up. Joyce, her long-time friend and Jace's cousin, rolled down the window.
"Need a ride to forever?" Joyce grinned.
Wendy chuckled. "More like a ride to the airport."
"Hop in. Your flight to Antique's in two hours."
The city blurred past them, a montage of memories. Wendy leaned back, letting it all settle—the victories, the heartbreak, the silent strength she gained through the years.
In Antique, the rice fields shimmered under the afternoon sun, each blade of grass swaying to the rhythm of the warm breeze. The scent of damp earth, coconut husk and ripe mangoes filled the air, a fragrance that spoke of home.
Wendy stood on the wide batalan (porch) of her childhood home, barefoot, the coolness of the bamboo floor a familiar comfort beneath her feet. The ancestral house, built generations ago, stood proudly with its strong paved walls, some bamboo columns now stood and still there are polished wooden floors. Its sturdy foundation had weathered countless typhoons—much like the family it had sheltered.
Her mother's hair now streaked with silver but her spirit ever vibrant, emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of fresh lumpia and a bowl of steaming sinigang.
"You've lost weight," her mother said, wiping her hands on her apron before gently cupping Wendy's face.
"Manila stress," Wendy smiled, leaning into the warmth of her mother's touch. "But I'm here now."
A day later, Jace arrived, suitcase in hand and a wide grin on his face. He took to Antique life like a fish to water—rising before dawn to buy pan de sal from the town bakery, greeting neighbors with a cheerful "Mayad nga aga," and spending lazy afternoons sketching scenes by the beach.
At night, he and Wendy would sit under a blanket of stars by the shoreline, the cool sand between their toes, their fingers entwined, anchoring themselves to each other and to the land.
"I want our children to know this place," Wendy said one evening, her voice a soft whisper against the endless stretch of sea. "To feel grounded, like we do."
Jace turned to her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His voice was tender. "Then let's build something real. Let's plant our dreams here, Wen."
The breeze danced around them, carrying the scent of salt and earth. In that moment, everything felt possible.
When the time was right, they laid the foundation for Reyes Craft—a bamboo and wood craft business that honored their heritage and the artistry of Antique. Wendy poured her love for home into designing, while Jace lent his sketches to the pieces handcrafted by local artisans.
The heart of Reyes Craft beat strongest in the old ancestral house itself, where the scent of varnished bamboo mingled with the aroma of brewing coffee. And it was Carlo, Wendy's youngest brother, who stepped forward one morning, a spark of determination in his eyes.
"Ate (manang)," he said, setting down a beautifully carved bamboo lamp, "I want to manage Reyes Craft. I want to make sure it grows... but stays true to what we started."
Wendy's heart swelled with pride. She looked around—the strong paved walls, the smooth bamboo floors worn by generations, the dreams now woven into the wood and air.
"Then it's yours, Carlo," Wendy said, pulling him into a hug. "Let's keep this home—and everything it stands for—alive."
The fields shimmered once more under the sun, and somewhere in the breeze, the old house seemed to sigh in contentment. Home was not just a place. It was a promise.
Months later, from the warm earth of Antique, they flew to the shimmering energy of Cebu. Not as wide-eyed attendees—but as future collaborators.
Wendy adjusted her earrings in the hotel mirror, nerves fluttering. "It's different now," she whispered.
"It should be," Jace said, offering his arm. "Because this time, we're walking in as equals."
Few minutes later, the gala welcomed them with soft jazz and glittering chandeliers, the scent of perfume and possibility thick in the air.
Then came Pradesh—elegant, theatrical and utterly magnetic.
"Pradesh Luxur," Wendy said, surprised.
"My little Manila muse," he greeted with flair, hugging her tightly. "You've bloomed."
They talked at length. Pradesh had been following her work. "Your vision, your grit—this industry needs you."
He proposed a partnership. A new label. Bold. Ethical. Global. Wendy at the helm as Project Development Officer. Jace as the Creative Business Strategist.
"We'll shake the pillars of old fashion," Pradesh declared.
Jace, curious but protective, asked questions, took notes. That night, in their hotel room, Wendy stared at the ceiling.
"Too big?" she asked.
"No," Jace said, entwining his fingers with hers. "We've outgrown small dreams."
Across the city, at Makati Medical Center, Liam sat quietly beside his father's hospital bed. The steady beeping of the monitor filled the sterile, dimly lit room. Outside the window, the city pulsed with life, but here, time seemed to stand still.
A nurse entered, her steps light but brisk. She offered Liam a small smile before moving to check the patient's vital signs.
"Good afternoon, sir," she said gently, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his father's arm. "His vitals are stable. Blood pressure and oxygen levels are within normal range."
Liam nodded, grateful for the small comfort. "Thank you," he said softly.
The nurse finished jotting down notes on her clipboard. "The attending physician will be here shortly to provide a full update," she added before stepping quietly out of the room.
Liam leaned forward, reaching for his father's hand. After a moment, his father's eyelids fluttered open, and he looked at Liam with a tired but determined gaze.
"Don't let Rivera fall," he rasped, his voice thin but fierce. "Protect what we built."
"I will, Dad," Liam murmured, his throat tightening. He squeezed his father's hand gently, willing his own strength into the frail figure before him.
A few minutes later, the door opened again. Dr. Ysa Llorente, the attending physician, entered the room, clipboard in hand.
"Mr. Rivera," she greeted warmly yet professionally. "I've reviewed your father's latest labs and scans. He's stable for now. The cardiac episode was serious, but with rest and medication, we're optimistic about his recovery."
"How long before he can go home?" Liam asked.
Dr. Llorente glanced briefly at the monitor before turning back to him. "We'll need to observe him closely over the next seventy-two hours. If his condition continues to improve, he could be discharged within a week. However, he will need cardiac rehabilitation and strict lifestyle modifications afterward."
Liam nodded slowly, taking it all in. "Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it."
She smiled reassuringly. "You're welcome. I'll check in again tonight. If you need anything, don't hesitate to inform us at the desk or you can call us right away," leading her hand towards the table where the phone is.
After she left, Liam leaned back in his chair, fatigue weighing on him. His father's grip tightened weakly around his fingers once more.
"Don't fail us," his father whispered before slipping back into sleep.
The next day, tension filled Liam's office as Ricci burst through the door, a tablet clutched tightly in her hand.
"Did you see this?" she demanded, thrusting the screen toward him. "Pradesh Luxur. Jace. Wendy."
Liam's jaw tightened as he scanned the headline. "Of course I saw it."
Ricci's voice dropped to a worried hiss. "She's the soul of that launch. She knows our secrets. If this blows up…"
Liam stood up slowly, his expression darkening.
"I'll talk to her," he said, voice low and firm. "Alone."
Later that night, Wendy opened an email.
Subject: From One Old Friend to Another
Wendy,
I hope this message finds you well. I heard about the upcoming launch with Pradesh Luxur. Congratulations—truly. But I ask you, please reconsider.
For the sake of the years we shared, and the silent peace we've maintained. Our brands—our names—are woven together in history. Let's not unravel what little harmony remains.
Liam.
She stared at the screen. Jace, reading it over her shoulder, said nothing.
Wendy finally closed her laptop. "I won't let the past dictate my future."
Meanwhile, Liam—unable to sleep—watched the online stream of the launch. The glow of the screen lit his face in the dim room. He saw Wendy take the stage, radiant and confident.
Moved by something he couldn't name, he reached for his phone and dialled her number.
To his surprise, she picked up.
"Wendy?"
"Yes, Liam?" she replied, her voice calm but charged with new electricity.
"I watched the launch. You were... brilliant."
"Thank you."
A pause.
"I just wanted to say—"
"You don't have to," Wendy cut in, her tone bold and straight to the point. "You had your chance. I gave you years, Liam. But now, I'm living mine. Fully."
He let the silence stretch, then said quietly, "I see that now."
"Good. Because I've never felt more alive."
She hung up.
The lights dimmed. A runway, shaped like a leaf, glowed emerald under spotlights. Indigenous patterns. Sustainable fabrics. Models with stories.
Wendy walked out in a tailored modern Filipiñana, applause swelling.
"To craft is to honor," she said during her speech. "To design is to remember. Today, we launch not just a brand, but a vision rooted in legacy—but grown by love."
In a quiet office in Makati, Liam watched over and over again the online stream, Ricci behind him. He sipped scotch.
"She found her path," Ricci said, almost admiringly.
"She did," Liam replied. "And I lost mine the day I let her go."
After the launch of the night, Wendy and Jace sat on a rooftop garden lit by string lights.
"We did it," Jace said, holding her hand.
"It's only the beginning."
He kissed her forehead. "Wherever this goes, I'm with you."
"And I," she said, smiling, "am home."
New ventures. Old wounds. Bigger dreams.
And love—still, always—at the center of it .