Black Rose

Chapter 4: Her Hidden Pain

Author's Pov

"That day has finally come. Should I feel grateful, or is it just another reminder of how broken we all are?"

These were the first thoughts that crossed Ileana's mind as she woke up. A lump tightened in her throat before her feet even touched the floor. She knew what lay ahead—a long, heavy day filled with memories, guilt, and the weight of loss she could never shake.

November 14. The day Zyair left them.

At the university, her absence on this date had become an unspoken rule. The dean granted her request every year, a courtesy extended not just for her academic record but because of her father's influence. Vice Prime Minister Dela Cruz's youngest daughter always got what she needed—whether she wanted it or not.

Still, few at the varsity knew about her connection to the powerful Dela Cruz family. Ileana worked hard to keep it that way. Remaining under the radar was intentional, a way to avoid the spotlight her father basked in. She didn't belong in his world of cameras and public scrutiny, and even he seemed to agree. Her rebellious style and refusal to conform to societal expectations were a stain on his pristine image.

The last time the media caught sight of her, she'd been fifteen. After Zyair's death, she retreated from the public eye entirely, shedding the illusion of perfection that her family always projected. She didn't want the attention, the whispers, or the constant comparisons. And more than anything, she didn't want to see her father's disapproving glare on a TV screen.

That morning, Ileana joined her family—her father, mother, and stepsister Ailee—to visit Zyair's monument. It was a tradition. Once a year, they came together as a family, however fractured, to honor his memory.

They brought fresh flowers, replacing the ones that had wilted in the months prior. They said a prayer, each in their own way, and for a brief moment, even her father let his walls down. His grief was raw, unfamiliar. Zyair's death had left a gaping wound in their family, one that never seemed to heal.

The happiness they once knew had been buried with him.

When it was time to leave, Ileana stayed behind as she always did. Her mother hesitated, offering to wait with her, but Ileana refused.

"This is my time with him," she said softly.

Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. "Alright. But don't be too long."

"Make sure you come straight home and don't keep us waiting," her father said, his voice sharp, yet tinged with something unspoken.

Ileana stiffened, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. But before she could respond, her mother leaned in with a smile, her voice a soft whisper.

"Call the driver when you're ready. And don't mind him," she said, nodding toward her husband. "Take care of yourself, sweetheart."

Ileana offered her mother a small, grateful smile.

As the rest of her family walked away, Ileana stood in front of the monument, her eyes fixed on the engraved words of her brother's name. Her hand brushed the cold stone as if touching it could bring him back.

"Zyair..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

For a moment, it felt like the weight of the world had pressed onto her chest. The memories of her brother flooded back—his laugh, his protective presence, the way he always encouraged her to chase her dreams. She felt the tears well up, but she swallowed them down.

"I miss you," she murmured. "Every day, I miss you. And I don't think I'll ever stop."

The breeze stirred around her, rustling the fresh flowers at the base of the monument. Ileana stayed there, alone with her grief, trying to find solace in the silence.