Epilogue | 23
A few days later, Lucas arranged a meeting with Lara and her lawyer to finalize the settlement agreement and discuss the annulment petition. He arrived at the law firm of Atty. Francesca Mendez, Lara’s lawyer, twenty minutes ahead of schedule, accompanied by his own counsel, Atty. Rocco Velasquez.
Atty. Mendez greeted them and led them to the conference room. Lucas muttered a distracted thank you, barely aware of the space around him.
His thoughts were elsewhere. On Lara. On how this meeting would unfold. On what it would feel like to face the woman he still loved, knowing he was about to let her go for good.
He took the seat at the far end of the long, polished conference table. The cold gleam of the mahogany surface stared back at him, smooth and immaculate, everything he wasn’t. He sat up straight, folded his hands, and tried to settle the thrum in his chest that had been steadily building for days.
He hadn’t seen her in days.
Each one stretched longer than the last. He barely slept. Food tasted like ash. He spent hours staring blankly at the ceiling, haunted by everything he should have done differently. There were moments, brief but unrelenting, when he thought about driving to her workplace, just to catch a glimpse of her. Just to know she was okay.
But he stopped himself every time.
Because he had already lost the right to see her. He no longer had any permission to orbit her world, not even from a distance.
Today was an exception. The meeting was necessary. Formal. Professional. Legal. The only reason he’d get to see her again.
And then, the door opened.
He looked up, instinctively. And for one breathless moment, the world slowed.
Lara entered with the kind of quiet strength that pierced through him like a blade. She was composed, serene, even radiant in a way he hadn’t seen before. Her blouse was soft, tucked into crisp slacks. Her hair pulled back, eyes clear, her face calm. She didn’t look like someone broken or bitter. She looked... free. Lighter. As if she had quietly shed some invisible burden since the last time he saw her. The weight of being his wife, perhaps.
It gutted him.
Because in that single moment, he understood something that tore him apart.
It was right to go through with the annulment. That for the first time in what felt like forever, he had done something good for her. That letting her go, when all he wanted was to selfishly keep her, was the only real act of love he was capable of giving her now.
But that truth, however noble it sounded in theory, didn’t stop the selfish ache gnawing at his gut. Because a part of him still longed for her to look at him the way she used to. A part of him still wished she hadn’t moved on so easily.
Lara didn’t even look at him for long. Her gaze flicked toward him only briefly before she took her seat across the table, straight-backed, calm and composed. There was no trace of hesitation in her steps. No longing. No regret.
Lucas swallowed hard. Her presence felt like sunlight through a window he couldn’t open. Warm, familiar, unreachable.
He watched her without moving, letting his eyes trace her every movement.
The distance between them wasn’t just the length of the mahogany table. It was made up of a thousand things he hadn’t said. A hundred moments he failed to show up. Years of silence she could no longer forgive.
Then Lara cast him another glance. Her eyes lingering on his face a second longer. He knew what she’d see.
He might look composed and polished outside, but beneath it, he was unraveling.
The sleepless nights had carved shadows under his eyes. He hadn’t shaved in days. He barely noticed until this morning when he glanced in the mirror and saw the unfamiliar stubble on his face. He used to care about those things. Used to rush for a razor the second a shadow of hair appeared. But lately, it all felt pointless. His frame looked leaner, not in a refined way, but like something was slowly being whittled away.
Lara noticed them too. He could tell. And for a fleeting second, he thought he saw something soft flash across her expression. Concern, maybe. Pity, more likely.
She looked away.
It hurt, more than he expected. But he couldn’t blame her.
He had never really taken care of her the way a husband should. Why should she care if he couldn’t take care of himself now?
The meeting began.
The lawyers spoke, trading facts and figures, detailing every property, account, and asset they had accumulated during their marriage. A list that felt more like a cold inventory than a reflection of a shared life.
Lucas barely listened.
All he could think about was what those things had cost her. What they hadn’t given her.
So when it was his turn to speak, he gave more than what was required. Offered her everything, even things she never asked for. The villa, the rest house, the Makati property. Hotels. Restaurants. Jewelry. The money. He didn’t want any of it if it meant even a sliver of peace for her. If it could ease some weight from her shoulders.
She refused.
Calmly. Politely. Resolutely.
He tried again.
She wouldn’t take the house. Wouldn’t keep the villa. She didn’t want the companies, or the properties, or the wealth he was so ready to throw at her.
Because none of it ever meant anything to her.
Not really.
What she wanted... what she had always wanted, he never gave.
And now it was too late.
She spoke with such measured grace, listing the few things she would accept. Things she chose. Things she had some memory or meaning attached to. The rest, she left behind without blinking.
Lucas felt her refusal like a slap. Not out of anger or malice, but because it laid bare just how little his grand gestures meant now. He had offered the world, and she was only interested in what was fair.
In what allowed her to walk away clean.
Her voice was so calm, but her words landed with precision. Each sentence reminded him of all the ways he’d failed as a husband, not just in actions, but in presence.
When she spoke of relinquishing her share in the Dela Merced Group, when she said “I was never part of it”. When she said that their marriage wasn’t truly theirs. That all the things he thought they built together... were never really shared at all, Lucas felt something inside him twist, a cold knife of truth.
He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t look at her without feeling the weight of his failures pressing against his ribs.
He wanted to argue. Wanted to say that she was wrong, that of course it was theirs. That she was his wife, dammit. That it had meant something.
But the truth tasted bitter on his tongue.
Because she was right.
She had always loved him more than he knew how to handle, and he had returned that love with indifference and distance, always keeping her at arm’s length. He had never let her in.
And now she wanted out completely.
He couldn’t blame her.
The lawyers recorded her decisions, revised the settlement. The air in the room grew heavier with every tick of the clock.
He wanted to say something. Anything. Ask her why she didn’t want more. Tell her she deserved more. That he owed her more than he could ever give back.
But she refusing everything with the same resolute grace.
She didn’t want repayment.
And when she said she didn’t want the house because it was filled with memories she wanted to forget, Lucas felt the blow land deep and final.
He hadn’t just failed her as a husband.
He had become the thing she now wanted to forget.
So he stopped insisting. Bit down the words he knew wouldn’t change a thing. And watched the woman he once took for granted walk away with less than she deserved, but more dignity than he’d ever shown her.
Soon they moved to the petition.
Lucas had read the document. Every line. Every carefully chosen word. He knew what was coming, but hearing it aloud was something else entirely.
He didn’t look at her, but he could feel Lara’s gaze on him, searching. Probably wondering how he’d react. If he would defend himself. If he’d deny it. But what could he possibly say?
She had every right to that petition. Every single word in it, he’d lived them too, hadn’t he?
Still, something inside him tightened when Attorney Mendez began to read it aloud. Each line struck like a quiet truth he had long tried to mute.
Psychological incapacity.
Emotional unavailability.
Inability to fulfill marital obligations.
Unconsummated.
Abandonment.
The words echoed through his mind like a gavel hitting wood.
He didn’t flinch outwardly, but every sentence was a reckoning. The cold, clinical language cut deeper than any accusation ever could. Not because it was cruel. But because it was true.
Lara wasn’t trying to destroy him. Her petition wasn’t cruel or exaggerated. In fact, it was painfully accurate. Everything she claimed—her loneliness, his detachment, the hollow shell of their marriage—was real.
And he couldn’t refute it.
He couldn’t even pretend to be offended. Because somewhere deep down, he had always known.
He had always known he didn’t know how to love her the way she deserved. He had never touched her. Not with affection. Not with love. Their marriage had been one of distance, duty, and avoidance. He thought he was protecting her by keeping himself at arm’s length. By withholding what he didn’t think he was capable of giving.
But in doing so, he’d broken something in her.
And maybe in himself.