The Governor's Woman

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Sitting alone in this cold, four-cornered hospital room, I felt the numbness settling into my bones. On the television in front of me, he was being interviewed, smiling—happy even—as they probed into his issues with his wife. The wife I wasn't supposed to know about.

Hinawakan ko ang aking tiyan, feeling its once-tight roundness, now hollow. My fingers brushed the remote on the bedside table, and with a deliberate lack of emotion, I switched off the TV. Silence filled the room.

That night, he left me. He didn’t look back. I lost consciousness soon after, and if it weren’t for Rene, my ever-reliable friend, who found me and rushed me to the hospital, I don’t know what might have happened.

I've been here for two weeks now. The pregnancy had become delicate after that night—my body betraying me, the stress weighing heavily on me. Since then, I've been more cautious, taking care of myself as if doing so could mend all the broken pieces inside. But even then, the heavens seemed cruel. A few weeks later, I bled again. And that’s when I knew—I had lost the baby.

The pain was indescribable, not just because of the loss, but because it felt like he didn’t even notice. Like I no longer existed in his world. Did I ever?

Three knocks echoed against the door, pulling me from my thoughts. I turned my head slowly, just in time to see Rene entering, her warm smile paired with a plastic bag full of fruit.

“Hi ganda, magandang umaga,” she chirped, placing the bag on the side table. “Dinalhan kita ng prutas para bumilis ang pag galing mo.”

She smiled again, wider this time. “Gusto mo bang ipagbalat na kita?”

I glanced at the fruit, then back at her. My expression remained cold, indifferent.

"Bakit kailangan ko pang gumaling?" My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

Her smile faltered, fading like a dying light, but she quickly masked it. She always tried to stay strong for me.

“A-ano ka ba Akhlys, para siyempre makalabas ka na rito at makagala na tayo,” she teased, though her tone cracked. Without waiting for a response, she picked up an orange, her hands moving to peel it. “Hala, sige babalatan na kita ha? Tapos kakainin mo.”

“Ayoko kumain,” I muttered softly, looking away, my chest tight with the weight of everything unspoken.

Her hands paused mid-peel, but she didn’t say anything right away. I could feel her eyes on me, searching for something.

“Anong gusto mong gawin sa buhay mo?” she asked in a low tone, laced with a bitterness she tried hard to hide.

I didn’t answer.

“Gusto mo bang dito ka na lang tumira? Ano, dito na lang sa hospital iikot ang buhay mo?” Her voice rose, anger seeping through. “Putangina naman, Akhlys!”

She threw the fruit at the floor and stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at me.

I kept my eyes on the blank TV screen, unflinching.

"Ilang linggo ka na rito, pero putangina, hindi ka pa rin makauwi kasi paulit-ulit kang dinudugo! Alam mo kung bakit? Kasi ayaw mong tulungan ang sarili mo!" Her words cut through the silence like a blade, and I could hear the faint sobs she tried to suppress.

Her pain clawed at my insides. I thought I had grown numb to suffering, but her words tore something open, reminding me I could still hurt.

“Sino pa bang hinihintay mo, 'yong gagong 'yon? Akhlys naman! Kung alam mo lang kung paano ka itanggi no'n sa publiko!” she spat, her voice shaking.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and blinked hard to keep the tears at bay. I finally turned to her, seeing her eyes glossy with tears.

“Please… Maawa ka naman sa sarili mo,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

She wiped her face, sniffling. “Pasensya ka na binato ko 'yong prutas. Pagbabalat na lang ulit kita ng bago.”

But days passed, and nothing changed.

The world outside continued spinning, but mine had stopped. Every time Rene visited, she would smile, but the weight of her concern hung between us like a thick fog. She had her job at night, so I spent my days alone, battling the silence that felt like it would swallow me whole.

I began to wonder if there was any point to all this. Was there still a reason to keep fighting?

The savings I had were nearly gone, and Rene, bless her heart, had been paying for my hospital bills. Every passing day only added to the debt of my existence.

One afternoon, as I sat numbly watching the news, eating the fruit Rene had peeled for me days before, two knocks drew my attention to the door.

My gaze shifted slowly as the door creaked open, and there he was. A figure I never expected to see again.

"What are you doing here?" I mumbled, my voice barely audible.

He gave me a small smile, but it quickly vanished. "You're stupid," he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

My brow furrowed. "Lumayas ka rito," I muttered, turning my face away, the bitterness rising in my throat.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a chill down my spine.

"Look what love brought you," he whispered, his cold breath brushing against my skin as he stepped closer.

I gritted my teeth as his hand cupped my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Masakit bang tila kinalimutan ka na niya? Masakit bang makitang masaya na ulit siya, kapiling ang tunay niyang asawa?"

His words stung, each syllable laced with venom. My jaw tightened, but he only smiled, relishing in my silent rage.

"Tell me if you want your revenge," he murmured.

"Get out," I hissed. "Wala kang mapapala sa akin."

He laughed, stepping back slightly, but his eyes never left mine. From behind his back, he pulled out a brown envelope and dropped it in front of me.

I stared at it, then back at him, suspicion and anger coiling in my chest. "Ano nanaman ba ang gusto mo!?" I yelled.

He smiled again, this time leaning in to press a cold kiss to my cheek. "I told you, I’ll help you with your parents' case."

My blood ran cold. His words froze me in place. Slowly, he motioned toward the envelope.

"See for yourself. Then decide."

With trembling hands, I reached for the envelope, my heart pounding in my chest. I opened it carefully, my breath hitching as I saw the small, typewritten letters at the top.

Vyshareth family case.

My hands shook harder. Inside were two documents and several photos. I set the papers aside for a moment and sifted through the photos.

Family pictures. Pictures of us before the tragedy. We looked like any normal family—happy, complete. But as I flipped to the next set of photos, the tears began to fall. They were the images of their bodies—my parents—taken after the massacre.

My hands covered my mouth as sobs wracked my body, the images blurring through my tears. I could barely breathe.

I glanced at the papers, reading through the text, though the words swam on the page. It detailed everything—the murder, the investigation, and how I, the only child of the late Governor Vyshareth, had survived.

And then, at the bottom of the page, I saw it.

The name.

The one responsible for everything. The one who tore my family apart. The name that had once given me hope, had made me believe I could forget, that I could still love.

Hendrix Sullivan.