Three days passed. Tatlong araw na puno ng katahimikan — heavy, suffocating silence that felt like a wall built between us. Elias avoided me. He arrived late at the office, left early, and whenever we were in the same room, he kept his eyes on his papers, his voice flat and formal, like I was nothing more than a stranger he happened to work with. No quiet words. No lingering glances. No secret signals. Isabel had won the first battle — she had turned his trust into doubt, his warmth into distance.
I saw him reading the journal often. Late at night, in his office, he would sit with Papa’s book open on his desk, staring at the pages for hours, his face tight with pain and confusion. But he never came to me. Never asked me to explain. Never gave me a chance to prove my innocence. The forged
