Once a Wife [English Version]

Chapter 14

Maricar didn't answer Cynthia's call last night—but she did read her message.

Now, she didn't know whether she should get out of bed and head to work, or come up with an excuse to skip going to the restaurant altogether.

I need to talk to you. Please.

Those words stuck in her mind as she stared at the screen. She hadn't replied last night. Would she reply today?

"Mommy?" It was Huffle. "Aren't you going to work today?"

She sat up a little. "Why, Puffie?"

"It's almost 8 AM. You're never late for Wizards." Huffle lay down beside her. "Are you okay, My?"

She smiled, tucking her daughter in. "My baby is so sweet! Of course, Mommy's okay. I just overslept a bit." That wasn't a lie—truth is, she was still sleepy. She hadn't slept well last night, her mind preoccupied.

"Maybe you should sleep more, My?" Huffle suggested. "I'll wake you up around 10?"

She chuckled at her daughter's suggestion. "That sounds like a great idea—if you lie down beside me." And that's what they did. She snuggled Huffle close, and the two of them drifted off to sleep again.

⸻

She arrived at Wizards around 1 PM. She wasn't surprised by who she saw sitting at the center table.

Cynthia.

She sat confidently in a plunging black dress—elegant, not vulgar. Regal, even. Her jet-black hair was tied in a messy bun that looked effortless but intentional, like a silent power play.

How does she manage to look that good so effortlessly? Maricar thought. If she hadn't been the woman who shattered her family, maybe Maricar would've admired her.

Because Cynthia was, undeniably, beautiful.

And me? Back then, she spent the first year after Dominic left drowning in insecurity and depression. Therapy became her lifeline. Because how could she not feel small next to someone like Cynthia?

She could pass for 25 and no one would doubt it.

Almost perfect—until she slept with Dominic and destroyed everything.

That's the thing about desperation. Even the most beautiful people can be blinded by love and end up foolish.

"Tania."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"How long has that customer been here?" she asked, referring to Cynthia. Their eyes hadn't met yet—Cynthia looked like she was deep in thought.

"She's been here for almost 3 hours, Ma'am. She only ordered coffee. I tried offering food, but she declined."

"Did she have an appointment?"

"Walk-in only, Ma'am."

Three hours? Maricar thought. Whatever Cynthia wanted to say must be really important to wait that long.

She wasn't naïve. This was clearly about Dominic. It always was. But what exactly did Cynthia want to say now?

Maricar sighed, braced herself, and walked over.

Cynthia sat with a glass of red wine, legs crossed, calm and poised.

"Cynthia," Maricar greeted, her voice neutral.

Cynthia looked up and set her glass down. "Have a seat." Her voice was calm—almost too calm. "Wine?"

Maricar didn't bother with pleasantries. "What did you want to talk about?" Her tone was sharp, her patience already thinning.