Once a Wife [English Version]

Chapter 45

Five Years Later

Spain had always been on Maricar's list.

And on their fifth wedding anniversary, she and Tristan finally made it happen.

It was already their third day there, but Maricar's body still hadn't adjusted to the new time zone. Sleep found her only three hours ago, and yet she was already wide awake—restless in the quiet, but steady in her soul.

So she slipped out of bed and walked through the cobbled streets to a nearby café.

The warm scent of fresh bread and dark roast coffee greeted her as she pushed the door open. The little shop glowed in the morning light. She already knew what she wanted.

Maricar approached the counter with a soft smile, silently repeating the phrases she'd practiced for this trip.

"Buenos días. Un café con leche y dos croissants, por favor... y uno de su café más vendido para llevar."
A coffee with milk, two croissants, and one of their bestsellers to go. Her accent was careful but clear.

The barista smiled brightly. "Muy bien, señora. Algo más?"

She shook her head politely. "Nada más, gracias."

As she waited for her order, pride bloomed quietly inside her.

Years ago, she could barely catch her breath from grief.

Now, here she was—ordering breakfast in a foreign language, in a country she once feared she'd never be strong enough to visit.

Her phone rang. She smiled before even checking. Who else would it be?

"Hi, Baby," she answered, voice full of light. "Did I wake you?"

"Where are you?" Tristan's voice, still groggy, sounded concerned. "You slipped out without telling me again. I just closed my eyes..."

"I'm sorry," she chuckled. "You were sleeping so soundly. You were tired last night."

A blush crept across her face. Last night had been... unforgettable.

"I'm not tired," he said. "I'm rested. Wait for me, I'll come find you."

"You sure? I already ordered you coffee and croissants."

"Perfect," he said. "Be there in a jiffy. I love you."

"I love you, too."

She ended the call and looked around the café, eyes dancing with contentment. But as she turned, tray in hand, her gaze caught on someone familiar.

Cynthia.

Her hair was neatly tied back. One hand rested gently over a small, rounded belly. A wedding band gleamed on her finger.

Their eyes met.

Years ago, this would've been unthinkable—too painful, too sharp.

But now?

It was peaceful.

They smiled at each other. Not out of obligation, not with awkwardness. Just... real.

A quiet understanding passed between them.

We're okay now. We've both moved forward.

The café door chimed again.

Tristan entered, carrying Josiah, while holding the hand of Noemi.

Their twins—yes, they had twins.

For years, they thought they wouldn't be able to have children together. But God proved them wrong—not just with one, but with two.

Josiah Elior and Noemi Anara.

Her living reminders of strength after suffering, joy after sorrow, grace after grief.

Maricar knelt to kiss their foreheads, her heart bursting. Tristan joined her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a tall man walking in. Cynthia's husband. He greeted her with a kiss to the cheek and a gentle hand to her back.

He carried their toddler daughter and wore a calm, confident smile. The baker called him "Architect."

Maricar's breath caught—not in longing, but in awe.

Cynthia had found her peace, too.

A new life. A true love. A family.

As they stepped outside, Cynthia turned once more.

Their eyes met again. No bitterness. No rivalry.

Just grace—two women who had weathered the same storms, now thriving under different skies.

Cynthia gave her a soft smile before turning away.

Tristan, watching it unfold, gently pulled Maricar closer.

"She's moved on," he whispered.

Maricar nodded, watching as the car disappeared into the Spanish streets. She had never felt lighter.

Later, they headed to a nearby park. The twins ran ahead, giggling as they chased pigeons. Tristan laid out a picnic blanket and opened the box of croissants.

Maricar leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I used to think all the pain I went through was meaningless," she whispered. "But now I see... if I hadn't been broken, I never would've seen the beauty of God's plan for me."

Tristan reached for her hand, his grip warm and steady. "And that plan was always leading me to you."

Life hadn't always been kind. But somehow... it had been just.

Dominic found his place in Javerde, no longer as a husband but as a father learning to show up in his own imperfect way.

Cynthia, once a wife like her is already a wife and a mother again, carried her own quiet joy. The storms she once clung to had long passed. What remained was peace, and in that peace, she flourished.

And Maricar... once broken, once lost—had discovered the fullness of grace. With Tristan by her side and their children, she finally understood what it meant to be whole.

Their stories were not perfect. They were scarred, messy, and full of detours. But perhaps that was the point.

For every heartbreak, every mistake, every goodbye had led them here— to this season of love, forgiveness, and forever beginnings.

And as the sun dipped lower over the streets of Spain, it was clear: The broken road had not ended. It had only begun again— this time, leading them home.

This is the last chapter.