The morning before mediation week felt quieter than it should have.Manila was already awake, the traffic, the street vendors, the relentless sun, but Sari’s world had slowed into something muted, brittle, and full of waiting.
The second mediation was scheduled in three days. Mariella had been meticulous, filing everything with the precision of a surgeon. Sari had memorized every response, every clause, every legal point she might have to defend. Still, she felt the steady undercurrent of anxiety pressing against her ribs.
Every tick of the clock felt like a countdown.
She spent her mornings at the hospital, sitting beside her father. His color had returned, faint but hopeful, and he’d begun teasing the nurses again, the clearest sign that he was clawing his way back. But he looked older
