THE WRONG BRIDE

“Sign it.” Alen’s voice was flat, emotionless — like the words carried no meaning. The marriage contract lay between us, untouched. “You don’t have to pretend you’re happy,” he added, not even meeting my eyes. “I’m not pretending,” I said softly. “I’m just… hoping.” He looked up then — cold, sharp, and unreadable. “Hope won’t change the fact that this is just business, Elara.” And maybe it was. But as I stared at the man I married — the one I loved since before he even knew my name — I promised myself one thing: If I can’t be the woman he loves, I’ll still be the reason he learns how to love again. Even if it means breaking a little more each day just to remind him what warmth feels like. Even if every smile I give is stitched with pain he’ll never notice. Even if I have to stand beside him, wearing his last name, while knowing his heart beats for someone else. Because love — real love — isn’t always about being chosen. Sometimes, it’s about staying long enough to teach someone how to feel again…even when you know they’ll never feel that way for you. And as I finally signed my name beside his, I told myself it was okay — To love quietly, To hurt silently, And to hope foolishly. Because somewhere between the lines of that contract, I wasn’t just binding myself to him — I was surrendering to the kind of love that doesn’t ask for anything in return. Pero kaya ko nga ba? Na mahalin lang sya at hindi maghintay at umasa na mahalin din nya ako pabalik?