The dining table had been set, its wide narra surface glowing with the sheen of polish. Platters of food, carefully arranged, filled every space: golden-brown lechon with crispy skin, steaming kare-kare with bagoong on the side, bowls of pancit that glistened with sauce, and trays of fresh lumpia. The sweet aroma of bibingka, sapin-sapin, and leche flan lingered temptingly.
But before anyone could lift a spoon, the families knew what tradition required.
Fernan cleared his throat softly. “Before we eat, let us give thanks.”
Everyone bowed their heads as Fernan, in his wheelchair, led the prayer. His voice trembled but carried a deep sincerity.
“Lord, we thank You for this day, for the union of two families and the love You have planted in Jude and Sabina’s hearts. Guide them, O Lord, as
