He was the Storm I kept

Epilogue PROLOGUE Drevan Thorne Solmere Inherited Silence May mga bagay na hindi mo na kailangang piliin — dahil pinanganak ka na roon. Ako, pinanganak akong may pangalan. Hindi lang basta pangalan—Solmere. Isa sa pinakamatunog at kinatatakutang apelyido sa bansa. Sa industriya, sa business elite, sa high society. At ako ang unang anak. Ang tagapagmana. Ang mukha ng bagong henerasyon. Drevan Thorne Solmere. Naririnig ko ‘yan sa boardrooms, sa press releases, sa events. Laging buong pangalan. Buo ang bigat. Buo ang expectation. Pero sa loob ko, madalas ko ring tanungin kung sino ba talaga ako, maliban sa pangalang ‘yon. Ngayong gabi, narito na naman ako sa unit ko—top floor, corner unit, full glass walls na tanaw ang BGC skyline. Tahimik. Malamig ang hangin mula sa air purifier. May jazz sa background pero hindi ko rin naman pinapakinggan. Hindi ko na maalala kung kailan huling naging tahimik ang utak ko. “Drevan.” Narinig ko ang boses niya. Malambing. Maamo. Pero may halong tensyon. Si Ara. Nasa dulo ng couch, suot ang silky red slip dress na bagay sa kutis niyang mestiza. Legs crossed, hawak ang wine glass, nakaayos pa rin kahit dis-oras na ng gabi. “You're quiet again,” she says, her tone gentle but probing. “Is it work? Or are you just… lost in thought again?” Napatingin ako sa kanya. Alam ko ang gusto niyang sabihin. Alam ko ang ibig niyang iparamdam. Gusto niya ng sagot. Gusto niya ng assurance. Gusto niyang hawakan ko ang kamay niya, sabihing okay kami. Na nandito pa rin ako. Na mahal ko pa rin siya. Pero hindi ko kayang ibigay ‘yon. Hindi dahil masama akong tao. Pero dahil hindi ko alam kung nasaan pa ‘yon sa akin. “Work,” sagot ko. Maikli. Predictable. Tumango siya. Pilit ang ngiti, pero alam kong ramdam niya. She puts down the glass and crosses her arms, eyes now on the ceiling instead of me. “Lately, it feels like I’m just watching you drift.” Tahimik lang ako. Kasi totoo naman. Hindi ko siya iniwan. Wala akong ibang babae. Walang eskandalo. Pero araw-araw, dahan-dahan akong umaalis — mentally, emotionally. At alam niyang nararamdaman ko na rin. Iba si Ara noon — full of warmth, fun, ambition. Now she feels like another piece of my world na naka-frame lang for display. Mahal ko siya, oo. Pero ‘yung pagmamahal na ‘yon… parang lumang kanta. Familiar, pero wala nang impact. "I'm tired," I finally say. “I know,” bulong niya. Hindi na siya nagtanong kung pagod ako sa kanya. Alam niyang hindi siya ang sagot — pero baka siya na ang isa sa mga dahilan. Hindi na rin siya lumapit. No effort to initiate touch. Hindi tulad noon. Minsan, ‘yung mga desisyon na hindi natin sinasabi nang malakas… tayo rin mismo ang unang nakakaalam kung kailan sila nagsimula. Naglakad ako papunta sa bedroom. Naiwan siyang nakaupo sa sofa, surrounded by dim lights and city glow — like a portrait of someone waiting for the end of something she already knows is gone. Pagpasok ko sa kwarto, bumagsak ako sa kama. Sapat na ang katahimikan para bumalik sa utak ko ang tunay kong ugat — ang pamilya ko. The Solmeres. Walang chaos. Walang sigawan. Walang drama. Hindi kami gano’n. We are quietly powerful. My father, Victor Solmere, is the patriarch — commanding, decisive, the kind of man who doesn’t repeat himself. Lumaki ako sa boses niyang mababa pero matalim, sa mga kamay niyang bihira akong hawakan pero palaging nirerespeto ng boardroom. Pero sa loob ng bahay, iba siya kay Mama. Sa kanya lang ako nakakita ng ganon sa Papa ko — softness. Devotion. Yung paghawak niya sa balikat ni Mama kapag papasok sila sa event. Yung tahimik na pagtayo niya sa tabi niya kahit hindi kailangan. Celeste Solmere. My mother. The silent queen. She doesn’t raise her voice — she only raises expectations. Elegant in pearls and silk, eyes always calculating but gentle when she looks at Papa. Lahat ng tao takot sa kanya. Pero ang Papa ko, hindi. Hindi dahil mas matapang siya — kundi dahil mahal niya ang babae kahit mas malakas pa ito sa kanya. They love each other in a way that never needed public display. But it was there, woven into their silences. I grew up watching that love — firm, strong, unshaken. At minsan… naiinggit ako. Kasi kung sila nga, sa loob ng mundo naming puro obligasyon, nakahanap ng gano’n… bakit ako hindi? Maybe I wasn’t made for that kind of love. Maybe I was just made to inherit. My phone buzzes. "Meeting with Shanghai investors confirmed. Dinner at Grand Hyatt, 7PM sharp. Your father expects your input." From Mother. No "Hi." No "How are you, anak?" Basta instructions. I type a short reply: Noted. Tumayo ako mula sa kama, lumapit sa floor-to-ceiling window. The city below sparkles with motion, ambition, and noise I can't feel. Lahat ng gusto ng iba — meron ako. But why does everything feel so… weightless? Sino ako ‘pag wala ang pangalan ko? Sino ako ‘pag wala ang obligasyon? Sino ako ‘pag wala ang inaasahan? Hindi ko pa alam. 7:56 AM. Bumukas ang elevator papunta sa Solmere Corporate Tower, Level 42 — the heart of it all. Polished marble floors, tinted glass panels, and the scent of expensive wood and steel. Lahat ng galaw dito ay tahimik pero mabilis. Like a high-functioning machine. My shoes click across the floor, sharp and deliberate. Heads turn. Secretaries pause. Analysts murmur quick greetings. “Good morning, Sir Drevan.” “Ma’am Celeste is already in.” “The Shanghai report is ready for your review—” Hindi ko pinansin lahat. Sanay na sila. Alam nilang hindi ako palangiti. Hindi ako showman. I don’t do performative power. I just am. Pagpasok ko sa boardroom, naroon na ang ilan sa mga Directors — serious, older men, wearing tailored suits and heavy expectations. At sa gitnang dulo ng mesa — si Papa. Victor Solmere. Posture straight, hands clasped in front of him, wearing his signature charcoal suit and black cufflinks. Katabi niya si Mama, seated like a queen. Elegant in navy blue, pearl earrings, hair in a tight bun. Her expression is unreadable, but her presence commands just as much attention as Papa. “Nandito na ang anak natin,” sambit ng Papa ko, walang ngiti pero may kumpiyansa sa boses. Tumango si Mama. “Of course. He knows what punctuality means.” Tahimik akong umupo sa upuan sa kanan ni Papa. Pinasa sa akin ang folder ng presentation. Nagsimula na ang meeting. Napakahaba ng usapan tungkol sa expansion sa Shanghai. Logistics, taxation, potential partners, risk factors. All of it — numbers, data, projections. Kayang-kaya ko ‘tong ipresent kahit nakapikit. Pero habang tumatagal, naririnig ko ang sarili kong boses na walang kulay. "Projected revenue will exceed current branches by 18.7%, assuming our onboarding costs remain below the expected 2.3 billion initial investment. The legal team in Shanghai has also—" "Slow down," putol ni Papa. "You don’t need to speak like a calculator." Tumigil ako. Nanahimik ang buong boardroom. “Buhay ang produkto natin. Huwag mong hayaan maging patay ang boses mo, anak,” dagdag niya, calmly but with weight. Narinig ko ang mahinang buntong-hininga ni Mama. Hindi disappointed. Parang… aware na hindi ako ‘yon. Na may kulang. Na kahit perfect sa papel ang report ko — may nawawala. After the meeting, naglakad kaming tatlo papunta sa private executive lounge. “You did well,” sabi ni Papa, habang kinuha ang kape mula sa assistant. Pero hindi ko na naramdaman ‘yong papuri. “Did I?” tanong ko, leaning against the counter. “Kasi kanina, parang gusto mo akong itapon sa kabilang kwarto.” Umupo si Mama sa velvet couch. “You weren’t present, Drevan. You were reciting. Not leading.” Tumango si Papa. “You’re intelligent. And sharp. But leadership is not just about being right. It’s about knowing how to make people believe in your direction.” I nodded slowly. Sanay na ako sa ganito. Advice na parang utos. Expectations na disguised as concern. Pero sa likod ng lahat ng ito — I knew one thing: They want me to succeed because they love the legacy. And maybe… because they love me, in their own way. Biglang nagsalita si Mama, her voice softer now. “You haven’t been yourself, Drevan.” Tumingin ako sa kanya. For a moment, I saw the woman she is beneath the polished shell — my mother, not the matriarch. “I’m fine,” sabi ko, almost automatic. “You’re not,” sagot ni Papa. “And don’t insult us by pretending you are.” Tahimik. Mabigat. Hindi sila galit. Hindi sila nagagalit. Hindi nila kailangan sumigaw para iparamdam na alam nilang may mali. “You may carry this family name,” tuloy ni Mama, “but you are also allowed to feel, anak.” Nagtagal ang tingin niya sa akin. Warm, but distant. “Your father may not say it often, but we watch you. Always.” And then, like nothing happened, she turned to her tablet. Reading emails again. Business resumes. Ganito sila. Never too much. Never too little. But always watching. Later that night, sa condo ko na ulit. Same silence. Same view. Same whiskey. Ara’s not here. Hindi ko siya tinawagan. And honestly? Hindi ko siya hinanap. Nag-ring ang phone ko. “Mama calling.” Sinagot ko. “Dinner with the Harleys next week. I want you to be there. They’re bringing their daughter.” Napapikit ako. “Is this another attempt to fix my life?” “No,” sagot niya. “It’s an attempt to preserve it.” I sighed. “She’s not Ara.” “She doesn’t have to be,” Mama says simply. “Just show up. As a Solmere.” Tahimik lang ako. “You don’t have to love anyone right now, Drevan,” dagdag niya, calmer this time. “But you do have to live the life you were born into.” Click. Call ended. I stared at my reflection again, sa glass window ng condo. Tall. Sharp. Polished. But not whole. I don’t feel lost. I just feel… empty. Like a vessel waiting to be filled, pero walang laman ang paligid. I close my eyes. Hindi ko hinihintay ang sagot. Hindi ko hinihintay ang kahit sino. I’ve stopped expecting anything. And maybe that’s what hurts the most. "You're quiet tonight," sabi ng babae sa harap ko. She was stirring her wine slowly, smiling like it was part of the job. I looked at her. “You prefer it when men talk too much?” She smirked. “Not really. But I like to know if I’m sitting with a robot.” I tilted my glass toward her. “Good news. I breathe.” “Barely,” she said under her breath, then sipped. From across the long table, Mama gave me a glance. Controlled. Measuring. “So, Drevan,” singit ng Mr. Harley, forcing his usual jovial tone, “you’re flying to Tokyo next week?” “Yes,” sagot ko. “Product integration meeting.” “Ara going with you?” tanong ni Mrs. Harley, raising a brow. I paused. “No.” Mama smiled tightly. “Ara has a shoot. Priorities.” “Ah, showbiz,” bulong ni Mrs. Harley, like it was beneath them. The Harley daughter chuckled. “My priorities are mostly... quarterly reports and avoiding scandal.” I looked at her again. At least she was honest. After dinner, habang naglalakad kami palabas ng function hall, tahimik kami ni Mama. Papa stayed behind to speak with the Harleys.