Chapter 7
832 Words
As we had agreed, Andy and I kept our relationship a secret from our parents.
Inside the house, we moved like strangers who happened to live under the same roof—no lingering looks, no accidental touches, no hint of what truly existed between us.
But the moment we stepped beyond those walls—school corridors, quiet cafés, the shaded side of the courtyard—Andy transformed.
He held my hand as if it belonged perfectly in his.
He checked on me constantly, texted me between classes, called just to hear my voice.
It was sweet.
Sweet enough to melt every ounce of doubt I once had.
Sweet enough to make lying to our family feel like a small price to pay.
If he was protective before, now he doubled his guard.
Even Peter, our trusted family driver, was suddenly recruited into Andy’s silent team of watchers. He reported when I got home, who I was with, and what time I left.
“Be careful, Andy. Peter might notice something,” I warned once.
He only smirked and kissed my forehead.
“He’s on my side. He won’t tell Dad. I trust him.”
For months, we lived in this delicate bubble—secret, fragile, yet blissfully ours.
Maybe because we were inspired, or maybe because love made everything feel possible, both of us excelled in our studies.
We made the Dean’s List together, a source of immense pride for our parents.
To celebrate, they arranged a family dinner—something grander than I had ever imagined.
The restaurant was luxurious, its warm lights reflecting off polished floors and tall glass windows. As we were escorted to a private reserved table, I felt slightly out of place, like I had stepped into another world.
“Mama, did you win the lottery?” I teased, adjusting the silky fabric of my formal dress. “Why does this feel like… a wedding reception?”
She laughed and pinched my cheek, as if I were still a little girl.
“You’ll understand later.”
She exchanged a meaningful glance with Tito before joining him at the reception desk, leaving Andy and me alone at the table, surrounded by glittering wine glasses and soft music.
Beneath the table, a gentle nudge brushed my leg.
I looked down at Andy, ready to scold him, but he leaned closer, voice dropping into a private whisper.
“You look breathtaking tonight,” he murmured. “I can’t wait to see you like this… on our wedding day.”
My cheeks burned.
I lightly pinched his arm.
“Stop it. Finish school first, wedding later.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Once I become an architect, I’m putting a ring on your finger before you can even protest.”
I laughed quietly, helpless and full of butterflies.
This was my favorite version of him: soft yet confident, loving yet playful.
Even the complications between us seemed lighter when he was around.
Dinner began, filled with laughter, stories from school, and updates from our parents about work.
They shared exciting news about business expansions and new projects Andy would someday lead.
But even as he listened politely, I could see Andy’s mind wandering.
I knew what he was thinking—he was always thinking of me.
Dessert was about to arrive when a waitress approached our table, carrying a polished bottle of champagne. She opened it with a delicate pop and poured it into crystal glasses.
Andy and I exchanged curious glances.
“Dad, what’s the champagne for?” he asked.
Tito chuckled. “You’ve had champagne before. Why are you surprised?”
“I know,” Andy said slowly, frowning. “But we only open champagne on New Year’s Eve or very special occasions. Isn’t this… a little much for a Dean’s List celebration?”
Mama and Tito shared a look, one that sent a shiver down my spine, before turning to us.
“Well,” Mama began, smiling in a way that made my heart squeeze painfully, “we’re not just celebrating your grades tonight.”
I felt Andy tense beside me as we both held our breath.
“What… do you mean?” I asked, voice barely steady.
Mama squeezed my hand gently.
“My dear children… your father and I are getting married next month.”
My heart stopped.
Andy’s hand beneath the table tightened around mine, but I could feel the panic radiating from him.
Mama wasn’t finished.
“And, Cecile… we’ve already started your legal adoption. Soon, you’ll officially become a Santillan. We’ll finally be a complete family.”
The world tilted.
The soft glow of the chandeliers blurred.
My breath lodged painfully in my chest.
A Santillan.
His last name.
His legal sister.
Andy’s hand, hidden beneath the table, squeezed mine even tighter.
And at that moment, it hit me—everything we had built, all our whispered promises, all our secret dreams…
was about to crumble.
- Writer
