Once a Wife [English Version]

Chapter 42

The columbarium was quiet that morning, sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows in soft hues of gold and violet. The scent of lilies lingered in the air, and the silence felt sacred.

Maricar walked slowly, her hands trembling as she held her daughter's favorite flowers—the ones whose scent always brought memories flooding back. She paused in front of the marble niche where her late daughter's urn rested.

Anatalia M. Bergström

Her voice broke the stillness. "Hi, anak..." She pressed her palm gently to the marble. "I have so many stories for you."

She smiled as she continued, "Your Kuya Raven is about to start college. Kuya Gryffin just applied for a scholarship—he wants to teach. Kuya Slyther might have a girlfriend, but he's also joined the debate team. I think he wants to be a lawyer. And of course, your Ate Huffle... she's still baking too much and insists on feeding everyone." A faint laugh escaped her. "We all miss you. Every single day. I miss you."

Her breath hitched. "As for your Papa... well, he's still as handsome as ever. And me? I'm doing better now. I'm stronger. But today..." Her voice faltered, tears slipping down her cheeks, "today's a special day. Anak... I'm getting married."

She lowered her voice. "I wish you could be here. You would've looked so beautiful in your dress. But I know you're watching. I know you're with us."

A familiar voice echoed softly from the doorway. "Talking to her without me, baby?"

Maricar turned, startled. Tristan stood there with a bouquet of sunflowers. For a heartbeat, they just looked at each other—then laughter broke the silence.

"You scared me," she chuckled, wiping away her tears.

"Same," Tristan grinned. He walked over, kissed her forehead, and placed the bouquet beside the tulips. "But she's ours. I wouldn't miss this."

Maricar touched his arm gently and stepped aside. "Go on. I'll give you a moment."

Tristan crouched in front of the urn. His voice was low but steady. "Hi, sweetheart. It's Papa. I know it's been a while, but you're with me every day. I just want you to know—I'm going to love your mom the way I should have from the very beginning. I'll love her for the both of us."

Maricar watched quietly, her heart aching and healing all at once.

Tristan stood and quickly brushed his eyes. He turned to her. "Shall we?"

She nodded, a soft smile blooming on her face. "She knows we're going."

As they walked side by side out the columbarium doors, their fingers intertwined naturally.

Maricar squeezed his hand and whispered—not to him, but more to the moment—"We're not leaving her behind... she's walking with us."

Tristan kissed the top of her head, his voice steady. "Always." He smiled. "Let's get married?"

She nodded. And together, hand in hand, they stepped into the daylight, ready to begin their vows, their healing, and their forever.

⸻

Instead of a city hall, they chose a quiet garden café—intimate, surrounded by blooming bougainvillea. Only family and a few close friends were present: their children, siblings, nieces, and Tristan's parents.

Ptr. Jerome, the same pastor who once counseled them during their darkest days, stood at the altar with a warm smile, Bible in hand.

"Marriage is not just a contract," he began. "It is a covenant. A covenant where God is not just the witness—but the very foundation." He looked at Maricar and Tristan. "Today, you stand before Him, your children, and even the memory of those you've loved and lost... to seal this covenant once again."