NINONG: My Silent, Forbidden Desire

The Night that Shouldn't

I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the warm breath that fanned softly against my skin. My heart was beating wildly, a rhythm so unfamiliar and intense it made my whole body hum. There was something in the air between us — heavy, charged, and full of things left unsaid — something I had waited for without even knowing it.

Then I felt it — a soft, tender kiss pressed gently to my forehead. It was so careful, so gentle, as if I were something rare and precious that must never be broken. I stayed perfectly still, caught in a whirl of confused feelings — comfort and fear, safety and danger, all tangled together.

“Sleep now, Aira. Don’t be afraid… I’m right here,” Godfather Ethan whispered. His voice was deep and soothing, and his fingers brushed my hair back from my face, trembling just a little.

My cheeks burned hot, heat rising from my neck all the way to my ears. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flushed I was, or how my hands shook beneath the blanket. He turned and left quietly, his footsteps fading into the dark — but even after he was gone, I couldn’t rest. His look stayed with me, burning in my memory: so full of secrets, so many things he would never speak aloud, locked deep inside him and hidden from everyone… including me.

“Great… now I’ll never sleep at all,” I murmured, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. “As if carrying my past wasn’t heavy enough… now he’s only made my heart and mind even more confused.”

The next morning at Cataingan School, my mind was heavy and scattered. I walked through the day in a fog, until my mood sank even lower — Augustus was at it again. He’d been pursuing me since high school, and I’d turned him down countless times, yet his messages kept coming: “Let’s eat together?”, “Walk me to the gate?”, “Just give me one chance…”. Once harmless, now every word felt like an intrusion, a noise I had no patience to bear.

I ignored every single one.

“Why aren’t you replying?” His voice came sharp and cold right beside me.

I lifted an eyebrow, focused entirely on my food, acting as if he wasn’t there at all.

He pulled out a chair and sat across from me anyway, ignoring the curious glances from other students nearby.

“Come on, Aira… I’ve liked you for years. Even now, you still—”

“Augustus, how many times must I tell you clearly? I’m not interested,” I cut him off, my tone firm and cold. He fell silent, taken aback. “We are nothing alike. What you like, what you want… it will never match mine.”

I stood up abruptly, paid for my meal, and walked away without a backward glance.

My phone buzzed again: “I’ll never stop trying until you find someone who truly makes you happy.”

I ran a hand through my hair in frustration, stuffed the phone deep in my bag, and sighed. Everything felt tangled and heavy — the secrets inside the mansion, my growing confusion toward Godfather Ethan, all the unanswered questions about my father and my past… and now Augustus and his persistence. All I wanted was to uncover the truth, not waste time avoiding people and drama.

I reached home exactly at 7:30 PM. The Gomez Mansion was quiet and still, most windows dark as if everyone had long gone to sleep. Only the lamps along the driveway glowed, and the full moon spilled silver light over the gardens — beautiful, yet haunting, like a memory I couldn’t forget.

As I walked toward the main door, a strange feeling crept over me — the hair at the back of my neck stood up, as if unseen eyes were watching me from the shadows. I slipped inside quietly and headed for the stairs… and froze.

A tall, dark figure stood perfectly still at the top landing, right in front of my bedroom door.

It was Godfather Ethan.

He didn’t move. He just stood there, eyes fixed steadily on me from above, as if he had been waiting a long, long time.

The air grew thick, hard to breathe. “Godfather?” I whispered, barely audible.

He didn’t answer. Slowly, soundlessly, he began to walk down toward me.

When he came close, I smelled it — the sharp, strong scent of alcohol on his clothes and breath. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing part of his chest, and he swayed a little on his feet.

“Are you alright? Are you feeling well?” I asked, stepping closer, worried.

He remained silent. I reached out and took his hand, meaning to guide him to his room to rest.

But before I could take even one step, he pulled me sharply toward him, arms wrapping tight around my waist, and pressed his lips to mine — hard, fierce, hungry, tasting of liquor and something wild I’d never known.

“Mmm…” he hummed low in his throat, deepening the kiss, unrestrained and desperate.

I tried to push him away, but his strength was overwhelming. He held me fast, his hands roaming over every curve of my body, touching places no one had ever touched before. My mind spun, confusion melting into a heat that raced through every vein.

“Godfather…” I whimpered, breathless, torn between wanting to stop and wanting to stay right there.

He undressed me quickly, his touch rough yet feverish, as if he couldn’t get close enough. He pressed kisses along my neck, my chest, murmuring things I could barely understand. When his fingers found their way deeper, I gasped — sharp sensation that made my knees weak.

“This is only the beginning… soon you’ll learn to want this… you’ll love it,” he whispered roughly against my skin.

He turned me around and pressed my back hard against the cold wall. Fear pricked at me — what if someone saw? What if someone heard? — but he didn’t seem to care at all. Nothing else existed to him in that moment.

“I can’t hold back anymore… I need you,” he groaned.

In seconds, we were both bare, skin against skin, burning hot. I felt him — hard and heavy — pressing at my entrance, waiting.

His kisses grew wilder, leaving marks along my skin. He lifted one of my legs high against his hip, and with one strong motion, he pushed fully inside.

I cried out — sharp pain, stretching, overwhelming. It was my first time, and he was too big, too much. But before I could adjust, he began to move — deep, fast, rhythmic — striking places that sent waves of feeling through me, pain mixing into pleasure until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“So perfect… so tight… I’m going to make you mine completely,” he growled, never slowing, driving deeper with every thrust.

“Ah… it feels… it feels amazing…” I whimpered, my own body moving with his, meeting every stroke, lost in the rush.

“I’m close… I’m going to let go…” he groaned.

A long, trembling cry broke from me the exact moment he spilled everything deep inside me.

I thought it was over then… but it wasn’t.

He dragged me to his room, pushed me face down onto the bed, and took me again from behind — harder, faster, wilder — until I thought I’d melt from the intensity. He turned me, moved me, held me in every way possible, claiming me over and over, until I was weak and breathless, every part of me aching and alive.

All those years of quiet admiration, all the secret feelings I’d carried for him… in that moment, it felt like they had finally come true.

Until he breathed those words against my skin, rough and satisfied:

“I love making you mine, Zapphira.”

Later, he lay beside me, fast asleep, breathing slow and calm.

But I was wide awake, staring into the dark, my heart hurting worse than my body ever could. I replayed everything in my mind — every touch, every kiss, every word. He had been with me, held me, used my body… but in his mind, in his heart… it wasn’t me.

It was someone else. Someone named Zapphira — a woman I’d never met, never heard of, knew nothing about.

Was she the one he truly loved?

Pain pierced through my chest. I was the one lying here in his arms… yet I was nothing more than a substitute. A replacement.

And who was I to complain? I was only his goddaughter — the girl he had taken in, raised, cared for as his own. I had loved him silently for years… but now I knew: to him, I was just a shadow of someone else.

Quietly, carefully, so I wouldn’t wake him, I sat up and pulled the torn remains of my clothes around me.

The next morning, we sat across from each other at the long dining table. The only sound was the soft clink of silverware against plates.

Godfather looked calm, composed, as if nothing had happened at all — or as if he had buried it all deep inside, never to be spoken of.

Aunt Emilia kept glancing back and forth between us, her eyes curious, searching, perhaps worried — as if she could sense something had changed.

“Aira, how is school? Everything well?” she asked gently, her voice soft and kind.

“Fine, Aunt. Nothing to worry about,” I said, keeping my tone even, though my heart was still raw.

Godfather didn’t speak a word. He stared down at his plate, but I could feel his eyes drift to me again and again, lingering before looking away.

When Aunt Emilia’s phone rang, she stood up and excused herself to answer it in the hall.

Suddenly it was just the two of us. The silence grew heavy, thick with everything unsaid… until our eyes met across the table.

I looked away first.

Impossible, I told myself firmly. What I wanted, what I dreamed of… it could never be. Not now. Not after knowing I was never truly the one he wanted — only a substitute for Zapphira.

I kept my head down and went on eating, my appetite gone.

Then a maid stepped in from the kitchen.

“Excuse me… there is someone outside asking for you, Miss Aira,” she announced.

I looked up quickly, my gaze darting to Godfather.

His face had turned dark and tight, brows drawn together in a deep, hard frown.

Who could be coming for me now? And why did Godfather look so troubled… almost afraid?