Chapter 9

• Silence hurts more when a look says it all.
• ARLET
• It's been a week since I last saw Ruben. He avoided me entirely, leaving early and returning late, his presence marked only by the weight of his disdain. I understood—he wanted nothing to do with me.
• In contrast, Raya and I grew inseparable. She became my light, a beacon of hope in this dark house. She shared her dolls and secrets, her laughter filling the void Ruben's anger created.
• But beneath her joy, I noticed the emptiness. She longed for a normal childhood—friends, school, and simple moments that no amount of luxury could replace.
• Ruben's overprotection kept her in isolation, shielding her from harsh words but also robbing her of growth. I knew he thought it was for the best, but Raya deserved more.
• I promised her I'd try to change that. Despite his warnings to stay out of her routine, I couldn't ignore the promise I made to her.
• Milo was furious with me for leaving him midway after promising to help him set up his event management company. He wanted answers, and while I tried to clarify things over chat, he insisted we meet in person. He hadn’t expected me to walk away right after graduation when we were supposed to build everything from the ground up. But life had thrown me into a storm I couldn’t ignore, leaving me unable to focus on his dreams—or mine.
• Before dealing with Milo, I had more immediate concerns. My wardrobe was woefully inadequate for life in this mansion. My worn clothes starkly contrasted the opulence around me, and I couldn’t let Ruben or anyone else question my presence based on appearances. Magda, perceptive as always, suggested I wear the gowns from the lavish wardrobe Ruben had prepared for his wife before the wedding.
• But I refused. I wouldn’t step into Relie’s shadow, even by borrowing her clothes. It would only add fuel to the fire of accusations already simmering against me.
• Determined to stand on my own, I applied for a job as a swimming instructor. While it might cover basic needs, it wouldn’t be enough to meet the expectations tied to Ruben’s reputation. I needed something more—a plan to prove my worth without compromising my dignity.
• Ding Ding
• Another message from Milo pulled me out of my thoughts while I was busy writing down my chores and making a list of potential job proposals.
• Milo: Are you still up for the class?
• Arlet: What class?
• Milo: Salsa class, remember? We registered last month. And just so you know, I personally requested the instructor for us.
• Arlet: I don’t think so. I’m trying to find a job.
• Milo: Why? Doesn’t your so-called billionaire husband cover your expenses?
• I sighed deeply, his words cutting through me.
• Arlet: Milo, we both know how all this happened. Please don’t make this any more complicated.
• Milo: You should have told him everything—about how these monsters trapped you in this situation. Why are you hiding it?
• I stared at the words on my screen, the knot in my chest tightening. What could I even say? What would he understand? That I’d been threatened by my aunt and uncle? That they promised to take away the only keepsake I had left from my parents if I dared to speak the truth?
• I paused, staring at my screen.
• Milo: Hello? Are you there?
• Arlet: Yes.
• Milo: Are you happy?
• I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. My heart clenched. I don’t know.
• Arlet: I’m fine. Just trying to adjust to this new life. Can we move the class to next month?
• I was still uncertain about how everything would pan out.
• Milo: Seriously? I thought you wanted to do this. It’s only two classes per week. 😤
• I could feel his frustration through the words. Milo had a way of lashing out at everyone but me when he was angry. I didn’t want his mom to get involved and give me that familiar talk about how I needed to make him “understand.” Even though he was older than me, somehow, I always seemed to calm him down.
• Arlet: Okay, okay. Don’t be angry. I’ll come.
• Milo: See you then, TEACUP ;)
• He always found a way to make everything feel light, even in stressful situations. Friends were so silly, weren’t they? He used to call me Teacup because of my petite frame—one that could probably fit in his pocket—and I called him Baloo because he gave the warmest hugs, always making you feel safe no matter what.
• Arlet: Shut up. :/ Baloo.
• I put my phone down and stepped out of the guest room. My gaze fell on Magda, who was seated by herself, her face buried in her hands as she wept quietly.
• I hurried toward her, cupping her face in my hands to try to understand what had happened.
• “My son... I kept him in rehab, and—”
• Her voice cracked, and I scribbled down a note quickly.
• Go, check on him.
• She looked at me through tearful eyes.
• “How? The boss will not—”
• I offered her my hand, shaking my head gently as if to reassure her.
• Your son is more important than any of these things. I’ll take care of everything. Please, leave.
• Her sobs lingered, but her voice was slightly steadier now as if my words gave her a moment of strength and relief.
• “Are you sure?” she whispered, her voice uncertain.
• I nodded and picked up my phone to message Trevor. It wasn’t long before he appeared to help Magda within just a few minutes.
• “Please take care of yourself. The boss usually comes late from the office and likes warm food. Make sure to give him ginger tea for breakfast. He usually gets cold,” Magda said, her voice trembling as she gave me instructions.
• I nodded and sent her off, her words sinking into me. Family. Responsibility. I would handle this.
• I had prepared everything for Raya the way she liked it, but I knew this would be a challenge for Ruben. From the interviews and news, I knew the things he liked, but living under the same roof with him had given me a whole new experience. Now, I was uncertain about his preferences.
• Asking Magda would only make her think I was strange, so I avoided that route.
• After she left, I fed Raya and put her to sleep in her room.
• "Could you read me a bedtime story?" she asked.
• I couldn’t deny her request, though I knew it came with its own challenge—the fact that she wanted me to speak. I could feel her request as though it pressed against me, knowing how much this could mean to her.
• She took so many medications that I couldn’t help but wonder why a small child required so much. Her condition left her unable to feel anything below her waist, and as I looked at her collection of books, I stumbled upon a small, worn journal she had written.
• I picked up the book and her journal, hesitating for a moment.
• "Yeah... these are my wishes," she murmured softly. I could feel her voice as gentle as the moment itself. I looked at her, unsure if I should ask for permission, but her smile felt encouraging.
• "You can read it," she said with a bright smile, gesturing to the book in my hand.
• I swallowed hard. Every word I was about to read felt daunting, and every sound would embarrass me. But her eager, hopeful gaze and that sweet smile she wore gave me the confidence to try.
• She slid herself onto the bed and took my hand, her fingers fiddling with mine with every steady breath, as though she were sharing her presence in every moment.
• "Mom, you can do it."
• Happy tears filled my eyes. She looked so small, so hopeful. The title of the book caught my attention:
• THE LITTLE GIRL WHO DARED TO DREAM.
• "T... h..." My voice struggled to form the sound, but each letter felt like a thread connecting me to her. With every phonetic struggle, she tightened her grip on my hand, her presence reassuring me.
• "Yes, Mom," I whispered through the effort. It took me a minute just to say the first letter. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I felt no remorse. This small child was the only light in this moment, the only reason I felt safe enough to open my heart.
• She hugged me with every ounce of her little body—filled with love, care, and understanding.
• "It's okay, Mom. Love makes us strong. Daddy and I love you a lot."
• I struggled to finish reading, but before long, she had already drifted to sleep. It had taken more than thirty minutes to get through the first page, but I felt no need to rush it.
• I set the book aside and picked up her small journal. I hadn’t expected the contents to hit me the way they did. The words were beautifully written—her hopes, dreams, and fears laid out in this neat, careful script.
• She wanted to go to school and celebrate her birthday at Water World. She wanted to sit on the carousel and go horse riding. Sometimes, these simple things could become someone's biggest dreams, and I promised myself I would put every ounce of energy into completing her bucket list.
• I wasn’t just trying to be a mother. I was doing my best to give her the best life possible despite all the impossibilities life had thrown our way. She was strong. She was loved.
• With those affirmations in my heart, I checked the time. It was already midnight when I noticed the headlights sweep across my view through the window, signaling that Ruben had arrived.
• Even if I wanted to act strong in the face of every challenge life had put me through, my feet always trembled when I had to face him. And tonight was the night I would try to win this fear—face him, and face it head-on.
• He opened the door and dashed into his room. I sprinted into the kitchen to warm the food, as Magda had suggested. My heart pounded in my chest, and I wished I could leave this place before he stepped into the kitchen.
• I plated his food and set hot soup in the bowl, filling a glass of water and checking the table one last time before I left. Everything seemed reasonable, but what if he needed something else? Should I stay or not?
• Lost in thought, I didn’t realize the lights had gone off. When I looked up, a pair of gray eyes were fixed on me. They pierced through me, and my breath hitched.
• His jaw clenched as he stared, and in the next moment, I dropped my gaze, unable to meet the intensity in his gaze.
• Should I even look at him? I didn’t want to show my face. But it was just Magda who had taken a few days off. What if he found out I’d prepared the meal and threw all the food in my face?
• My palms grew damp, and my feet felt icy. I didn’t know how long I stood there, staring at the counter and twisting my fingers nervously.
• The sound of glass slamming onto the table broke me from my trance. My head jerked up, and I found myself looking at him.
• Unintentionally, my gaze darted to the soup bowl. It remained untouched.
• I took a hesitant step toward the door, as though I’d never been in his sight. His cough startled me further, and I froze, uncertain of what would happen next.
• "Arlet," he called.