THE CONGRESSMAN'S MUSE (Sandro Marcos)

Chapter 37: Silent Tears

Sa harap ng kamera, Sandro and Lexi exuded confidence and poise. They smiled, waved, and maintained an air of calm assurance, as if the controversies swirling around them were nothing more than background noise. Their public appearances were meticulously orchestrated—every handhold, every whispered word carefully curated to project unity and strength. But behind closed doors, it was a different story.

Lexi sat in her dressing room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup artist applied a final touch of concealer under her eyes, hiding the evidence of another sleepless night. She forced a smile, but her eyes betrayed the exhaustion and pain she couldn't quite mask. Each event, each public appearance, felt like a performance she was struggling to keep up with.

Sandro entered the room, catching Lexi's eye in the mirror. He offered her a gentle smile, but he saw the weariness etched on her face. "Ready?" he asked, his voice soft but tinged with concern.

Lexi nodded, adjusting the neckline of her dress. "Always," she replied, her voice steady even as her heart ached. She stood up, taking Sandro's hand as they prepared to step out into the spotlight once more. But even as they moved in sync, their connection felt strained, like a thread pulled too tight.

Behind their polished exteriors, Sandro and Lexi were fighting battles that few could see. Sandro's political career was hanging by a thread, the constant barrage of negative press making every day a new challenge. His once supportive colleagues were now distant, their whispers of disapproval growing louder with each passing week. Sandro put on a brave face, but the pressure was starting to crack his resolve.

Late one night, after a particularly grueling meeting, Sandro sat alone in his office, staring at a stack of reports that seemed to multiply by the hour. He rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the headache that had become his constant companion. His phone buzzed with yet another message from his campaign manager, urging him to reconsider his relationship with Lexi for the sake of his political future.

Sandro clenched his jaw, frustration boiling over. He slammed his fist on the desk, the noise echoing through the empty room. He wanted to fight for his love, for Lexi, but the relentless scrutiny and constant judgment were wearing him down. He picked up his phone, scrolling through news articles that dissected every aspect of their relationship, twisting their narrative to fit the public's voracious appetite for scandal.

As Sandro read the comments section, filled with hateful words and personal attacks, he felt a wave of despair wash over him. He was used to criticism—it came with the territory—but this was different. This wasn't just about his career; it was about the woman he loved, the person he had vowed to protect.

Meanwhile, Lexi found herself increasingly isolated. The glamorous world of modeling that she had once loved now felt like a trap. Her colleagues and friends had become distant, afraid to associate with her for fear of damaging their own reputations. Even her closest confidantes were advising her to step back, to distance herself from Sandro to salvage what was left of her career.

Lexi scrolled through her phone, staring at the messages from her father's advisors, each one more insistent than the last. They urged her to end her relationship with Sandro, to focus on her career and her family's image. But Lexi couldn't bring herself to walk away, even as the weight of their disapproval pressed down on her like a heavy shroud.

One afternoon, Lexi found herself sitting alone in her apartment, the silence oppressive. She wrapped herself in a blanket, her eyes fixed on the view outside her window. The city was alive with activity, but Lexi felt disconnected from it all. She wanted to be strong, to keep fighting for her and Sandro's love, but the loneliness was suffocating.

Lexi's thoughts drifted back to the early days of their relationship, when everything had felt so effortless and pure. They had stolen moments away from prying eyes, shared whispered confessions in hidden corners, and laughed together like there was no tomorrow. But now, every smile felt forced, every touch weighed down by the constant scrutiny.

A single tear slipped down Lexi's cheek, quickly followed by another. She buried her face in her hands, allowing herself to cry for the first time in what felt like forever. She cried for the dreams that seemed so far out of reach, for the love that was being tested beyond measure, and for the version of herself that she felt slipping away.

In the days that followed, Sandro and Lexi tried to find comfort in each other's presence, but even that was becoming a challenge. Their conversations, once filled with light-hearted banter and shared dreams, were now heavy with the weight of their struggles. They talked about strategies, about how to spin the latest round of bad press, but the laughter that used to punctuate their moments together was noticeably absent.

One evening, as they sat in Sandro's apartment, Lexi rested her head on his shoulder, the quiet between them feeling more like a chasm than a comfort. "I miss how it used to be," she whispered, her voice tinged with sadness.

Sandro wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. "Me too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I miss just being us, without all of this... noise."

They sat in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Sandro wanted to promise Lexi that everything would be okay, that they would find their way back to the light. But he couldn't bring himself to make promises he wasn't sure he could keep. All he could do was hold her, hoping that somehow, in the stillness of the night, they could find a sliver of peace.

As the weeks passed, Sandro and Lexi began to realize that their pain, though hidden from the world, was starting to take its toll. Sandro noticed the way Lexi's laughter had grown quieter, how her smiles rarely reached her eyes. Lexi saw the way Sandro's shoulders slumped under the weight of his responsibilities, how the spark in his eyes had dimmed.

One evening, after another exhausting day of meetings and media appearances, Sandro found Lexi standing on his balcony, staring out at the city lights. She turned when she heard him approach, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy. Sandro's heart ached at the sight, the silent tears she had shed carving a path down her cheeks.

"Lexi..." Sandro began, but Lexi shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips.

"I'm so tired, Sandro," she confessed, her voice breaking. "Tired of pretending, of smiling when all I want to do is scream. I thought I could handle it, but... it's just so hard."

Sandro pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed against his chest. He stroked her hair, his own eyes filling with tears he had been holding back for too long. They stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the city below them oblivious to the silent storm they were weathering.

"I know it's hard," Sandro murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "And I wish I could make it easier. But we're in this together, Lexi. I'm not going anywhere."

Lexi nodded against his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But sometimes... sometimes it feels like we're losing ourselves."

Sandro tightened his hold on her, his heart breaking at her words. He knew she was right. The constant scrutiny, the endless pressure—it was changing them, chipping away at the people they used to be. But Sandro also knew that despite everything, his love for Lexi had never wavered. It was the one thing that kept him going, even on the darkest days.

As they stood together on the balcony, Sandro and Lexi made a silent promise to each other. They couldn't change the past, and they couldn't control the opinions of the world around them. But they could choose to fight for their love, to hold on to the things that mattered most.

"We'll get through this," Sandro said softly, brushing a tear from Lexi's cheek. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but we will. And when we do, we'll be stronger for it."

Lexi looked up at him, her eyes searching his. In that moment, she saw the man she had fallen in love with—the one who had made her laugh, who had challenged her, who had shown her what it meant to truly be seen. And she knew that no matter how hard things got, she wasn't ready to give up on that.

With a deep breath, Lexi nodded, a flicker of determination returning to her gaze. "Together," she agreed, her voice steadier now. "No matter what."

Sandro leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, finding solace in the quiet of the night. And for the first time in what felt like forever, they allowed themselves to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could weather the storm—together.