Shadows of a Loveless Marriage

Chapter five

The Parable of the New World

Alea stood in front of her family's modest home, staring at the chipped paint and sagging roof that seemed to echo the burden weighing on her shoulders. After the meeting with Damon and Guillermo Montemayor, she felt like her life was no longer her own.

Inside, her parents waited for her return, their worried faces lighting up the moment she entered the door.

"Alea, anak," her mother greeted, rushing to her side. "Kumusta ang usapan? Anong sinabi nila?"

Alea hesitated, her gaze lowering to the wooden floor. "Tinanggap ko na po. Ang kasal. Para sa atin."

Her father let out a sigh of relief, his tired eyes welling up with tears. "Salamat, Alea. Hindi namin alam kung paano ka pasasalamatan."

"Wala pong anuman," she replied, though the words tasted bitter on her tongue. The sacrifices she made for her family felt like an invisible chain tightening around her heart.

Meanwhile, Damon sat in his study, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. The golden liquid caught the light as he stared at it, lost in thought.

His father's words rang in his ears: "This is a partnership, not a choice. You have responsibilities, Damon. Accept them."

A knock on the door pulled him out of his reverie. It was his younger sister, Mira. Her bright eyes sparkled with curiosity as she stepped into the room.

"Kumusta na ang magiging asawa mo?" she teased, leaning on the doorframe.

Damon shot her a warning look. "Hindi pa siya asawa, Mira."

"Yet," she quipped with a grin. "Pero seryoso, kuya. Ano ang tingin mo sa kanya?"

Damon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She's... different."

Mira raised an eyebrow. "Different good or different bad?"

"She's not like the socialites we're used to. She's straightforward, determined. But there's something vulnerable about her."

Mira tilted her head. "Hmm. Mukhang magiging interesting ang kasal niyo."

"Don't make this into something it's not," Damon muttered, finishing his drink.

Alea was escorted back to the Montemayor estate two days later for the official preparations. She felt out of place among the lavish surroundings, the staff bustling around her, fitting her in custom-made dresses and designing every detail of the upcoming wedding.

"Miss Alea, please lift your arms," said one of the designers as they adjusted the intricate lace bodice of her gown.

She complied silently, her mind elsewhere. Every decision about the wedding—her dress, the flowers, the guest list—was being made without her input. She felt like a doll being dressed up for display, her voice rendered irrelevant.

"Maganda ang gown na ito," one of the staff murmured. "Bagay sa inyo, Miss Alea."

She offered a weak smile but didn't respond. How could she express her feelings when every moment felt like losing a piece of herself?

Later that afternoon, Alea wandered into the Montemayor garden, seeking a moment of peace. She found Damon there, standing beneath a large oak tree, his hands in his pockets.

He turned when he heard her footsteps, his expression unreadable. "Enjoying the preparations?" he asked, his tone tinged with sarcasm.

"Enjoy isn't the word I'd use," Alea replied, her voice firm.

Damon smirked, leaning against the tree trunk. "Let me guess—you feel like a pawn in all of this?"

Alea crossed her arms, meeting his gaze. "That's exactly how I feel. And you? Don't you feel the same way?"

He shrugged. "I've learned to live with it. In this world, freedom is an illusion. We're all bound by something—family, duty, expectations."

Alea studied him, her initial impression of his arrogance replaced by a glimpse of the man behind the cold exterior. "It must be lonely," she said softly, surprising even herself.

Damon's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. But it disappeared as quickly as it came. "Don't romanticize it. This isn't a fairytale, Alea. You and I are just playing our roles."

"And what role do you think I'm playing?" she challenged.

"The sacrificial lamb," he replied bluntly.

His words stung, but Alea refused to let him see her falter. "If that's how you see me, then so be it. But I'm not as weak as you think."

Damon's lips twitched into a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good. You'll need that strength for what's ahead."

As the sun set over the Montemayor estate, Alea and Damon parted ways, both silently bracing themselves for the storm their marriage would bring. For Alea, it was a battle to preserve her identity in a world that sought to strip it away. For Damon, it was a fight to protect himself from emotions he couldn't afford to feel.

In the distance, thunder rumbled, a sign of the chaos to come.

Alea sat on the edge of the bed in the grand guestroom prepared for her. The room was elegant, with high ceilings, silk curtains, and furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum. Yet despite its beauty, she felt like a prisoner. The silence of the room weighed heavily, and the looming thought of the wedding made her chest tighten.

She opened her small suitcase, filled with simple clothes from home. A tattered notebook sat on top of the pile—her journal. Writing had always been her solace, the only place where she could be honest with herself.

"Kailangan ko bang magpanggap na masaya?" she scribbled. "Paano ko ipapakita ang tapang kung ang loob ko'y puno ng takot?"

A knock on the door startled her, and she quickly closed the notebook.

"Pasok," she called out, steadying her voice.

The door opened, and Mira peeked in, her cheerful smile contrasting the tension Alea felt.

"Hi! Pwede ba akong pumasok?" Mira asked.

Alea nodded, managing a small smile. Mira entered, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. "I thought you might need some company. Nakaka-overwhelm dito, no?"

"Medyo," Alea admitted, grateful for the gesture.

Mira sat beside her, placing the tray on the table. "Alam mo, noong una kong narinig na magpapakasal ka kay Kuya Damon, naintriga ako. Hindi niya kasi ugali ang sumunod sa gusto ni Papa."

"Talaga?" Alea asked, her curiosity piqued.

Mira chuckled. "Oo. Damon always does what he wants, and he doesn't let anyone tell him otherwise. Kaya nga I was surprised when he agreed to this marriage. Alam ko naman na tungkol ito sa negosyo, pero iba ang kilos niya mula nang makilala ka."

Alea frowned. "Paano naman niya ako makikilala? We've only met once."

Mira shrugged, her expression thoughtful. "Sometimes, it's not about how long you've known someone. It's about how they make you feel."

Alea looked down, her heart uneasy. Did Damon feel anything at all for her? Or was this just a game of convenience for him?

Later that evening, Alea wandered back to the garden, finding solace in the quiet. The moon hung low, casting a silver glow over the estate. She needed space to think, to breathe.

But her solitude didn't last long.

"You're always here," a familiar voice said behind her.

She turned to find Damon, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. He looked relaxed, but his gaze was sharp, as though he could see straight through her.

"I needed air," Alea replied, not bothering to mask her exhaustion.

"Fair enough," he said, stepping closer. "This place can feel suffocating."

Alea raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be used to it by now. You've lived here your whole life, haven't you?"

"Being used to something doesn't mean you like it," Damon said, his tone laced with an edge she couldn't quite place.

They stood in silence for a moment, the cool breeze brushing past them.

"Do you ever regret it?" Alea asked suddenly.

"Regret what?"

"Living a life where everything is decided for you."

Damon's jaw tightened. "All the time. But regrets don't change anything. You just learn to live with them."

His words struck a chord in Alea. She looked away, her fingers curling around the edge of her shawl. "That's a sad way to live."

"It's realistic," Damon countered. "Dreams and ideals don't survive in this world, Alea. If you want to make it, you adapt. You play the part."

Alea turned to him, her eyes filled with quiet defiance. "Maybe that's true for you. But I'm not like you, Damon."

His gaze softened, just a fraction. "No, you're not. And maybe that's what makes you stronger than you think."

The days leading up to the wedding passed in a blur of preparations. Alea found herself torn between fear and resolve, each moment a battle against the doubts creeping into her mind.

On the morning of the final fitting, as she stood in front of a mirror wearing the ornate wedding gown, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her.

"Miss Alea," the designer said with pride, "ang ganda-ganda niyo po."

But Alea felt like a stranger in her own skin.

That evening, she found herself writing in her journal again, her emotions spilling onto the page.

"Puwede bang magbago ang isang kapalarang hindi ko pinili? At kung oo, paano? Natatakot akong humarap sa kinabukasan, pero kailangan kong subukan."

As she closed the notebook, she made a silent vow to herself: no matter what this marriage brought, she would hold on to her identity, her strength, and the sliver of hope that things could change.

From the shadows, Damon watched her, his expression unreadable. Something about Alea drew him in—a quiet defiance, a strength she didn't even seem to realize she had.

For the first time in a long while, Damon felt a flicker of something unfamiliar.

And it terrified him.

The morning sunlight streamed through the large windows of the Montemayor mansion, bathing the grand dining room in a warm glow. Alea sat at the far end of the dining table, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Across from her, Damon silently sipped his coffee, his sharp gaze fixed on a newspaper spread out before him.

The room was quiet save for the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain. The weight of the silence was oppressive, and Alea felt it pressing down on her like a heavy blanket.

She had barely slept the night before, her mind replaying the events of the last few days. The contract she had reluctantly signed, the hollow promises of security for her family, and the unshakable feeling of being trapped. And now, here she was, married in name only to a man she barely knew, sitting in a mansion that felt more like a gilded cage than a home.

Damon, for his part, seemed utterly unbothered by the situation. He moved with the calm confidence of someone who had long since accepted the role he was expected to play. But Alea couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath his composed exterior.

"Is this how it's going to be?" she blurted out, unable to bear the silence any longer.

Damon looked up from his newspaper, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"This." Alea gestured vaguely at the space between them. "This... arrangement. Is this how it's going to be? Sitting in silence, pretending everything is fine?"

Damon folded the newspaper neatly and set it aside. "Would you prefer we argue instead?"

Alea frowned, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm serious, Damon. This isn't a marriage. It's a transaction. Don't you think we should at least try to... I don't know, talk to each other?"

Damon leaned back in his chair, studying her with a thoughtful expression. "What would you like to talk about, Alea? Our favorite colors? Childhood memories? Or perhaps the fact that neither of us chose to be here?"

His tone was calm, but there was an edge to his words that made Alea's stomach twist. She opened her mouth to respond but found that she didn't know what to say.

Damon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I understand that this situation isn't ideal for either of us. But the truth is, we're stuck with it. The sooner we accept that, the easier it'll be for both of us."

Alea clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is simple," Damon said evenly. "Complicated only if we make it so."

The calm detachment in his voice infuriated her. How could he be so indifferent about something that had upended her entire life?

Alea pushed back her chair and stood abruptly. "If you think this is simple, then maybe you don't understand what it's like to lose everything," she said, her voice trembling.

Damon's expression darkened, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something—pain, anger, regret—in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"I understand more than you think," he said quietly.

Alea stared at him, her breath hitching. There was something in his tone that made her pause, something that hinted at a deeper truth she hadn't yet uncovered. But before she could press him further, Damon stood and walked toward the door.

"We'll talk later," he said over his shoulder. "There's a meeting at noon about the foundation. You'll need to attend."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Alea alone in the cavernous dining room with nothing but her racing thoughts for company.

The hours leading up to the meeting passed in a blur. Alea spent most of the morning wandering the mansion, her mind restless. She couldn't shake the feeling that Damon was hiding something from her, and the thought gnawed at her like a splinter lodged deep beneath her skin.

When noon finally