Once a Wife [English Version]

Chapter 27

The last day of the summit felt... different.

Dominic had attended dozens of these events in his career, but never before had he found himself scanning the crowd just to catch another glimpse of someone.

Of her.

Maricar.

She was quiet today. Calm. Effortless.

But it was a different kind of quiet. Not the fragile silence of a broken woman—but the composed stillness of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.

"Coffee?" she asked when she spotted him in the lounge, holding up an extra cup.

"Sure," he said with a grateful smile. "Thanks."

They found an empty corner, far from the busy chatter of the other attendees. The soft notes of jazz floated through the air, and a light breeze swept in from the garden.

Dominic took a slow sip and exhaled.

"You know," he began, "I've wanted to apologize for a long time. Not just for what I did... but for the things I didn't do."

She looked at him, steady.

"I should've chosen you. Every time. I should've made you feel like you were the only woman in the room. But I got selfish. I chased success, pride. And when Cynthia came into the picture... I was already failing as a husband."

Maricar said nothing, letting him bleed out his guilt.

"She was just... there. But you were home. And I threw that away."

His voice cracked slightly.

"I tried to fix it... but it always felt too late. And when I heard about the baby..." His jaw clenched, regret spilling over. "I should've been there. Even just to say sorry."

She placed her cup down. Looked away.

Not because she was emotional.

But because this was working.

Exactly as Delia told her it would.

"Let him confess. Let him hope you still care. And when the moment comes—remind him who made you feel disposable."

Maricar turned back, finally speaking.

"I prayed for you to say those words... years ago."

"I know," he whispered. "And I'm sorry it took me this long."

She shook her head. "How can you apologize for something you don't even remember, Dom? You're apologizing for a pain you never even knew how deep it cut."

Dominic swallowed hard.

There it was again—that line between warmth and warning.

He didn't know if he was getting closer... or being drawn in just to be destroyed.

⸻

The final dinner was small and intimate—just the sponsors, organizers, and a few special guests.

Candles flickered on each table, the soft hum of a string quartet filling the air. Outside, the Antipolo skyline sparkled under the night.

Maricar was stunning.

Not loud. Not flashy.

Just... quietly magnetic.

Dominic couldn't stop watching her—the way she twirled her wine glass, the way she smiled politely without truly laughing.

She was present, but distant.

And it only made him want her more.

After dinner, they walked back toward their rooms—side by side, silent, their footsteps echoing softly in the corridor.