Collision of Hearts

Chapter 18

The sun was cruel that morning.

Mainit, nakakasilaw, at parang sinadyang sumabog ang init sa mismong araw na pinili kong lumabas ulit sa publiko. After weeks of boardroom wars, courtroom filings, and emotional explosions with Damon, finally… I agreed to show my face again. Not as the broken heiress. Not as the girl who disappeared.

But as Skyra Monteverde.

The survivor.

The CEO reborn.

Monteverde Holdings co-sponsored a groundbreaking ceremony sa bagong urban tech site sa Taguig. Simple lang ang setup — white canopy tents, media booths, security barricades, and a stage platform.

Naka-white pantsuit ako. Sharp lines, power heels, signature red lipstick. I had my assistant Camila behind me, holding my portfolio. Damon, as expected, wasn’t there. He had flown to Singapore for a private contract bid and was due back tonight.

So for once, I stood alone.

At least… I thought I did.

“Miss Monteverde, please—this way po for the ribbon cutting,” said the event coordinator, smiling.

I nodded politely, my heels clicking across the temporary wooden platform as I approached the ceremonial ribbon. Photographers were lined up. Reporters ready with mics. Flashes popped in every direction.

Then… it happened.

The sound.

A crack.

Sharp. Sudden.

Like lightning tearing through metal.

Bang.

Then pain.

Blinding, searing, all-consuming pain just below my ribs.

“Agh—!” napasigaw ako, and everything blurred.

I stumbled backward.

Camila screamed behind me. Security shouted. May mga sigawan. Yung ibang guests nagsitakbuhan. Chaos erupted like a bomb just dropped.

Isang mainit na likido ang naramdaman ko sa gilid ng katawan ko.

Blood.

My blood.

I fell to my knees, one hand clutching my side. My vision spun. The world tilted.

“SKYRA!”

Voices. Too many. Too loud. Too slow.

Then I saw her.

Isabella.

Standing a few meters from the back perimeter. Dressed in a trench coat. Sunglasses on. Holding a small concealed firearm, still trembling in her hands.

The guards tackled her.

But not before our eyes locked.

And I saw it — that madness. That jealousy. That wrath.

She wanted me dead.

She really tried to kill me.

I coughed, blood coating my lips. “D… Damon…”

Then, blackness swallowed everything.

BLACKOUT.

Hospital sirens. Sirens. Screaming. Camila crying. Security yelling. Blood. Gurney. White lights. Cold metal. Hands pressing my chest. Beeping. So much beeping.

Somewhere… hours later.

Naramdaman ko ang lamig ng kama. The antiseptic air. The weight on my hand — someone gripping it tight. A whisper. Male voice. Familiar.

“…you’re okay… please be okay…”

Napagalaw ko ang daliri ko. Mabigat ang katawan ko. Mabagal ang lahat ng paghinga ko.

But I was alive.

Barely.

Private jet. Somewhere between Singapore and Manila airspace. I had just closed the contract deal of the quarter when my encrypted comm line buzzed.

“Sir—Skyra’s been shot.”

The words didn’t register at first.

“What?”

“Public event in Taguig. We have her en route to St. Luke’s. Bullet grazed her ribs. Consciousness—unknown.”

My vision went red.

The folder I was holding dropped from my hands.

“Who. Did. It?”

“It was Isabella, sir. She violated the ban.”

A sound left my throat — low, guttural, not entirely human. My hands curled into fists. My lungs couldn’t expand.

“Turn the plane around. NOW.”

The second I stepped into that hospital room, the world stopped.

Skyra lay there—white as the sheets, one hand bandaged over her side, lips pale, wires connected to her chest. Machines beeped around her like a cruel metronome, keeping time with each fragile breath.

She was breathing. But barely.

I moved without sound.

Lumapit ako sa kama niya, dahan-dahang naupo sa tabi. I stared at her face—serene, unconscious, too still.

“I’m here…” I whispered, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek.

No response.

I placed a trembling hand over hers.

I had failed her. Again.

All the guards, the systems, the orders… and still, she bled.

A sob caught in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Not here. Not yet.

But when my fingers found the crusted blood near her side, when I smelled that metallic sting of pain still clinging to her skin—something inside me broke.

I leaned forward, forehead pressed to the back of her hand, and let out a ragged, choked sound.

“Skyra…”

My voice cracked. Shattered.

“You can’t—f*****g—do this to me.”

I clenched my teeth, blinking hard, refusing to let the tears fall. But they did. One by one.

“I was gone for one day. One f*****g day. And she got to you.”

I lifted my head and looked at her again. "You stupid, brave, reckless woman... I told you this world was still dangerous. I told you I should've been there."

I buried my face into her palm again.

"If I lose you, I swear to God... I'll tear down this entire country."

Hindi ko na maalala kung paano ako nakarating sa black ops facility.

Pagkababa ko mula sa chopper, basang-basa pa ang suot kong long-sleeved navy shirt sa pawis, pero hindi ako tumigil. Mabilis ang lakad ko, halos nililipad ang hallway. Lahat ng dumaan sa harap ko—agents, guards, handlers—agad tumabi, parang may paparating na bagyong hindi pwedeng harangin.

I was a storm. And they knew it.

“She’s in Interrogation Three,” sabi ni Marcus habang sumusunod sa likod ko.

“Alone?”

“Just her and the surveillance. No one touched her.”

“Good,” I said, darkly. “That part’s mine.”

Binuksan ko ang pinto.

At nandoon siya.

Nakaupo si Isabella sa bakal na silya, posas ang mga kamay, nakatali ang buhok, mukha’y disente pa rin pero may bahid na ng takot. Sa wakas.

“D-Damon…”

Hindi ako sumagot. I just stared at her.

Isang segundo. Dalawa. Tatlo.

Hanggang sa humakbang ako papalapit.

Nang marinig niya ang tunog ng boots ko sa cement floor, saka siya nagsimulang umiyak. “I didn’t mean to hurt her—”

“You pulled the trigger,” I growled.

“She was ruining everything—”

“She was mine.”

Nagalit ang panga ko, gumapang ang apoy sa dibdib ko, at hindi ko na kayang pigilan ang sarili ko.

Hinawi ko ang mesa sa pagitan namin at sinunggaban siya. Pinagsalubong ko ang mga kamay niya sa posas, hinila siya pataas, hanggang magpantay ang mga mata namin. “Gano’n mo ako kamahal? Gano’n mo ako kamuhian?”

“Damon—please, I just wanted to scare her. Para makita mong—”

“Na baliw ka na?”

“Na baka pwede pa tayong magkaayos!”

Tumawa ako. Walang tunog. Mapait. Madilim.

Nagtagpo ang mga mata namin. And in that moment, I didn’t see the woman I once almost married. I saw a ghost wearing her face. A ghost that tried to kill the only person I’ve ever truly loved.

“I gave you mercy,” I whispered, deadly calm. “I let you go.”

“Because you still cared.”

“No,” I said, inches from her face. “Because I thought you weren’t worth destroying.”

Hinila ko siya pabalik sa silya. I snapped my fingers, and two guards entered.

“Chain her. Transfer her to Red Cell 5. No contact. No communication. Isolation.”

“Damon—no! Please—”

“Every second you breathe from this moment forward is charity. Don’t waste it screaming.”

Umalis ako nang hindi na lumingon.

Paglabas ko ng interrogation hallway, parang saka lang humabol ang hininga ko.

Isang agent ang nag-abot ng bagong report.

“Sir, Skyra’s stable. Woke up thirty minutes ago.”

Doon ako tuluyang natumba sa dingding.

Parang biglang nawala lahat ng bigat sa tuhod ko.

Stable.

Buhay.

Di ko na napigilan. Pinikit ko ang mga mata ko, hinimas ang sentido, at sa unang pagkakataon simula nang marinig kong binaril siya… huminga ako nang buo.

Pero isang bagay ang malinaw.

No one would ever touch her again.

Because if they did… I wouldn’t stop at prisons.

I’d bury them.

Alive.

Madilim pa ang paligid nang unti-unti kong maramdaman ang sakit. Mabigat ang katawan ko. Mabigat ang hangin. Parang may humihigpit sa dibdib ko, pero hindi ko alam kung dahil ba ‘yon sa sugat o sa bigat ng lahat ng nangyari.

Napasinghap ako nang bahagyang gumalaw.

“Skyra.”

Isang boses. Mababa. Puno ng kaba. At pamilyar na pamilyar.

Dahan-dahang bumukas ang mga mata ko. Sinalubong ako ng mapuputing ilaw sa kisame at ang malamig na amoy ng ospital. Pero hindi iyon ang agad kong pinansin — kundi ang lalaking nakaupo sa tabi ko, hawak-hawak ang kamay ko, at parang hindi na humihinga sa sobrang takot.

“Damon…”

Agad siyang yumuko, pinagdikit ang noo namin habang mahigpit pa rin ang kapit sa kamay ko.

“Jesus Christ… Skyra… thank f**k…” bulong niya, boses niya garalgal. “You’re awake.”

“Anong… nangyari…”

“Daplis. Tumama sa tagiliran mo. You lost blood but… but it didn’t hit anything vital. You're okay now.” Pero kahit anong sabihin niyang okay, hindi mawala sa mga mata niya ang takot. Ang guilt. Ang galit.

Napansin ko lang kung gaano siya ka-gulo. Nakasuot pa rin siya ng travel clothes—dark button-down shirt, crumpled at may mantsa ng dugo sa may manggas. Mukhang wala pa siyang tulog. May balbas na. At pulang-pula ang mga mata, parang ilang oras nang umiiyak pero ayaw ipakita.

“You’re here…” mahina kong bulong.

“As if I’d be anywhere else,” sagot niya agad, halos pabulong, parang baka mawala ako ulit kung lalakasan niya ang boses niya.

Tumigil siya. Tumingin siya sa akin, deretso sa mga mata ko. At doon ko siya nakita.

Basag.

Hindi ang Damon Velasquez na palaging matatag, palaging kontrolado. Kundi ang Damon na natatakot. Na halos mabaliw sa ideya na baka hindi na kami magkita pa ulit.

“Akala ko…” he whispered. “Akala ko hindi ko na maririnig ang boses mo. Na hindi mo na ako sisigawan ulit. Na hindi mo na ako tititigan na parang gusto mo akong kainin nang buhay.”

Napakagat ako sa labi. Lumuluha na pala ako.

“I’m sorry,” sabi ko, halos hindi ko marinig ang sarili ko.

He leaned forward, hinalikan ang likod ng kamay ko. “No. Ako dapat ang magsorry.”

“For what?”

“For letting her get close. For not hunting her down the second she set foot on Philippine soil. For underestimating what she was willing to do.”

Humikbi ako. Hindi dahil sa sakit. Kundi dahil sa kanya. Sa dami ng pasan niya sa balikat niya. Sa bigat ng guilt na nilulunod siya ngayon.

“I’m here,” bulong ko. “You didn’t lose me.”

His voice cracked. “But I almost did. And Skyra… I don’t think I’d survive that again.”

Tumayo siya para hawakan ang mukha ko, maingat na maingat na parang babasagin ako.

“I thought I was strong enough,” he whispered. “But when I saw you—bloodied, unconscious, barely breathing—I f*****g broke, Skyra.”

“Damon…”

“You’re not just someone I love. You’re not just a woman I want. You are the only goddamn reason I even care to wake up in the morning.”

Tumuloy ang luha ko habang pinipilit kong ngumiti. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m serious,” he whispered, forehead pressed against mine. “Kung nawala ka sa akin… wala nang saysay lahat.”

Huminga siya nang malalim, then inikot ang duyan ng kama para makaupo siya sa tabi ko, nakapatong ang kamay niya sa tiyan ko.

“I’ll never leave your side again,” bulong niya. “Not even for a second.”

At totoo nga. Buong gabi, hindi niya ako binitiwan. Hindi niya ako iniwan.

At habang unti-unting dumidilim ulit ang paningin ko sa epekto ng gamot, isang bagay lang ang malinaw:

Buhay ako. Buhay kami.

At sa gitna ng sakit, ng panganib, at ng halos pagkawala — nandoon pa rin siya.

Hindi bilang tagapagligtas.

Kundi bilang lalaking handang masira ang mundo, basta’t wag lang akong mawala sa kanya.

Tahimik sa silid. Tanging maririnig lang ang mahinang beep ng monitor at ang huni ng air purifier na parang sinusubukang gawing mas magaan ang bigat ng paligid.

Pero hindi kayang bawasan ng kahit anong teknolohiya ang bigat ng nararamdaman ko.

Kahit na medyo malabo pa ang paningin ko dahil sa gamot, malinaw kong kita si Damon — nakaupo sa gilid ng kama ko, baluktot ang katawan, ang noo niya nakatukod sa kamay kong hawak-hawak niya mula pa kanina. Para siyang estatwa ng pagkabasag.

Tahimik siyang umiiyak.

Hindi yung iyak na may hagulgol. Hindi yung dramatiko. Kundi yung tipo ng tahimik na luha na galing sa lugar na malalim. Masakit. Hindi basta-basta maabot ng salita.

“Damon…” mahina kong tawag.

Hindi siya gumalaw agad. Parang natatakot siya na baka panaginip lang ako. Na baka pag nagsalita ako, maglaho ako muli.

Umangat lang ang ulo niya nang marinig ang boses ko. At doon ko nakita.

Namumugto ang mga mata niya. Mamula-mula ang ilong. Basa pa ang pisngi niya.

At sa unang pagkakataon sa buong pagkatao ni Damon Velasquez—ang lalaking kinatatakutan ng buong mundo—nakita ko siyang takot na takot.

“Damon…” inabot ko ang pisngi niya.

Agad siyang yumuko, pinagdikit ang noo namin. “You scared the f*****g life out of me, Skyra.”

“I’m okay,” bulong ko.

“No, you’re not. You were bleeding. On the ground. Barely breathing. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

Napapikit siya, and another tear slipped down.

“I can handle bullets, Skyra. I can take pain. I can lose deals, empires, even f*****g limbs. Pero ikaw? I can’t lose you. I just can’t.”

Tumulo ang luha ko, hindi ko na pinigilan.

“I saw the footage,” patuloy niya. “I saw the moment you got shot. Nakasuot ka pa ng puting dress… and then blood just—” Umiling siya, pumikit, tinakpan ang mukha.

“I thought that was it,” he whispered. “Akala ko... wala na.”

“Pero buhay pa ako,” bulong ko, nilalambing ang boses ko kahit hirap pa.

“Yes. But I almost wasn’t enough. And that’s what’s killing me.”

“I don’t blame you,” sabi ko.

“But I do,” mabilis niyang sagot. “I should’ve made sure. I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have left your side.”

Hinawakan niya ang pisngi ko, banayad, nanginginig. “If that bullet hit your heart… Skyra, I swear to God, I would've—”

“Don’t,” pakiusap ko, pinigil ang bibig niya gamit ang daliri ko. “Don’t even say it.”

Tumango siya, pero napakuyom ang kamao niya. Pilit na kinakalma ang sarili.

“I’ve built a fortress around my life,” sabi niya. “Walls so high, no one could break in. And yet, one bullet—one second—almost took the only thing that matters inside it.”

Humigpit ang hawak ko sa kamay niya. “You didn’t lose me.”

“But I almost did,” bulong niya. “And that… that f*****g broke me, Skyra.”

Napayuko siya muli, pinagdikit ulit ang noo namin habang pareho kaming umiiyak — hindi dahil mahina kami. Kundi dahil sa wakas, pinakawalan na namin ang lahat ng kinimkim. Ang takot. Ang guilt. Ang pagmamahal na masyadong malaki para itago pa.

“I love you,” bulong niya, halos pabulong, halos dasal. “So f*****g much. It hurts.”

“I love you too,” sagot ko, tinapik ang pisngi niya. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Hinawakan niya ang mukha ko, para bang gusto niyang iukit sa isip niya na buhay pa ako. Na totoo ‘to. Na ako pa rin ‘to.

At sa harap ng lahat ng sakit, ng panganib, ng muntik na kamatayan…

Ito ang totoo: We loved each other so much, it terrified us.

Pero kahit nakakatakot…

Hindi namin kayang bitawan.

Tahimik lang siya sa tabi ko.

But this time, hindi dahil sa sakit o takot — kundi dahil lumalambot na ulit ang puso niyang kanina lang ay parang pinunit ng mga alaala.

Damon sat there, one arm protectively curled around my shoulders while my head rested against his chest. Ramdam ko ang unti-unting pagkalma ng puso niya. Hindi na ganoon kabigat ang bawat paghinga. Pero andun pa rin yung pangambang parang isang maling galaw lang, maglalaho ako ulit.

Hinaplos ko ang dibdib niya sa ilalim ng manipis na hospital blanket na nakapatong sa amin. His skin was warm, his heartbeat steady — but slightly fast, like he was holding something back.

“Damon...” mahina kong tawag, pinipilit ngumiti.

He looked down at me, his eyes still red but softer now. “Yes, baby?”

“You can hold me. I won’t break.”

Nagdalawang-isip siya, pero nang makita niyang seryoso ako, dahan-dahan niyang inilapit ang katawan niya sa akin — careful, slow, reverent.

“I just… I don’t want to hurt you,” bulong niya habang hinaplos ang gilid ng tagiliran ko kung saan dumaan ang bala.

“You won’t,” sabi ko. “Ang sakit lang naman ngayon… yung hindi kita mahawakan ng buo.”

His breath hitched. “Then hold me.”

At iyon nga ang ginawa ko.

Bumangon siya ng bahagya sa kama, saka dahan-dahang pumatong sa akin — pero nakatukod ang braso niya sa magkabilang gilid ko. Parang sinasamba ang katawan ko, hindi minamadali, hindi kinukuha. Basta andun lang siya. Sa ibabaw ko. Para akong altar at siya ang nag-aalay.

He kissed my forehead. Then my cheek. Then my lips — featherlight at first, like asking for permission.

I kissed him back. Slowly. Openly. Until both our lips parted and our breaths mingled like one.

Dumulas ang kamay niya sa ilalim ng hospital gown ko, pero dahan-dahan, parang hinihingi ang pahintulot ng bawat pulgada ng balat ko. Nang marating niya ang ilalim ng dibdib ko, tinigilan niya ang paggalaw.

“Still okay?” he whispered, searching my eyes.

I nodded, smiling through the sting. “I want you.”

“Like this?” he asked.

“Exactly like this,” sagot ko.

“Gentle?”

“Always.”

He peeled back the gown carefully, exposing my breasts to the cold air. But hindi ako giniginaw. Because his mouth followed. Mainit ang labi niya habang dinidilaan niya ang u***g ko, saka sinupsop ito — with a kind of aching devotion na parang pinapatawad niya ang sarili niya sa bawat galos ko.

My back arched, arms threading around his neck. “Damon…”

“Shh…” bulong niya habang dinidilaan ang gitna ng dibdib ko, papunta sa tiyan, pero nilampasan ang sugat. “Let me take care of you.”

He pulled the gown higher until it bunched around my waist, and slowly — as if memorizing the movement — he slipped his hand between my thighs. Nadulas ang daliri niya sa gitna ng hiwa ko, at kahit pagod ang katawan ko, nabuhay ulit ang init sa pagitan ng mga hita ko.

I was wet. Warm. Ready.

“For me?” bulong niya, tinapunan ng halik ang hita ko. “All this?”

“For you,” sagot ko.

He slid two fingers inside me. So slow. So deep. Ramdam ko ang bawat galaw, parang sinasayaw ang loob ko.

I gasped. “Damon… please…”

He hovered over me again, unbuckling his pants just enough. No rush. No aggression. He was bare, hard, and beautiful — pero hindi niya agad pinasok.

He looked into my eyes. “Tell me you want this.”

“I do,” I whispered. “I want you. Now. Here.”

Then he slid in.

Dahan-dahan. Inch by inch.

No force. No frenzy.

Just fullness.

Intimacy.

Healing.

Both our eyes fluttered shut as our hips pressed together, and for a moment, hindi na kami nagsalita. Kumapit lang ako sa balikat niya habang gumagalaw siya sa ibabaw ko — smooth, slow thrusts. Like the rhythm of forgiveness.

Like the music of survival.

“I love you,” he whispered, every time he moved inside me. “I love you.”

I whimpered, tears streaming again. “Don’t stop… Please don’t stop…”

“Never,” he swore. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

Pinisil niya ang kamay ko habang binabayo niya ako ng malambot pero marubdob — parang sinasabi ng bawat galaw niya na “I’m here. I’m not leaving. You’re safe.”

I came slowly. Not with screams, but with trembling.

He followed after — groaning softly into my neck as he spilled inside me, his whole body shaking with release.

Pagkatapos, hindi siya bumangon. Hinila niya lang ang blanket, tinakpan ang mga katawan namin, saka ako niyakap ng mahigpit.

We stayed that way until we both fell asleep — sweaty, tangled, and whole.

For the first time in a long time…

I knew I wasn’t alone.

And neither was he.