Epilogue | 24
The lawyers waited in silence, eyes on Lucas, as the question hung in the air.
Would he contest the petition?
Lucas stared down at the file in front of him, his fingers curled lightly into fists.
There was nothing to contest.
How could he argue against her truth? How could he say it wasn’t real when it was all she ever lived through?
He lifted his eyes to Lara and saw her watching him, not with anger or resentment, just calm, steady eyes. Still, he could see it in her guarded expression. She was bracing herself. Maybe expecting him to deny it all, to twist the truth one last time.
But there was nothing to deny.
Only the truth.
And so, he gave it to her.
He shook his head.
No. He wouldn’t fight her on this. He couldn’t.
It was the least he could do. After all this time, after the silent pain he had inflicted on a woman who had done nothing but try. What right did he have to make her fight for freedom?
He didn’t look at the lawyers when they warned him of the implications. How the court might label him, how assessments might follow. How his emotional detachment might be interpreted as dysfunction. Lucas felt the words lodge deep in his throat.
Dysfunction.
It wasn’t a label he had ever applied to himself before, but as the silence followed her words, it didn’t feel misplaced.
He looked at Lara again, and she didn’t avoid his gaze. She met his eyes, unflinching. And in that moment, something fragile broke open inside him. No defenses, no pride. Just guilt. Just quiet acceptance. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, not just for the petition or for the years wasted, but for not knowing how to be what she needed. For not realizing it until now.
But the words never came. Only a small nod. Barely visible, but loaded with surrender.
He acknowledged it all.
He didn’t feel brave. He felt like a man standing amid the ruins of what he should have built but never did.
When the joint manifestation was placed before them, Lucas glanced at it. A final piece of documentation confirming that neither of them would contest the annulment.
He watched as Lara signed it first, her movements fluid, sure. There was no hesitation in her.
Then the folder was nudged toward him.
Lucas stared at the spot where her signature had just dried. Her name sat there, printed in block letters, Lara Nichole Guzman-Dela Merced. His wife. On paper, at least. But not in the ways that mattered, not anymore.
His gaze dropped to the name beneath hers, Lucas Gabriel Dela Merced. A name once attached to hers like a promise. Now just legal text.
He picked up the pen, but not before one last look in her direction.
She didn’t look back.
Good, he thought. She shouldn’t.
Then, with a steady hand, he signed.
The moment felt strangely anticlimactic. No grand sense of release, no wave of relief. Just a quiet, heavy stillness settling in his chest like dust on forgotten memories. The kind you never truly get rid of.
The lawyers gathered the documents, thanked them, explained the next steps. He heard them. He nodded when required. But most of his awareness was tethered to the woman seated across from him. Every word they spoke sounded distant, muffled beneath the weight of what he had just signed.
When the meeting finally came to an end, he watched her rise from her seat. She smoothed her slacks and took a soft breath, quiet, almost meditative. She was preparing to leave, but then... she turned slightly toward him.
Their eyes met for a second.
There were no words. No small smiles. Not even a nod. Just… acknowledgment. A fleeting moment where their eyes locked, and time seemed to pause between them. It was brief, and then it was over. She turned away, spoke to her lawyer, and walked out of the conference room.
He was left there, trying not to crumble.
Atty. Velasquez spoke to him about the next steps, the summons, the timeline, the remaining requirements. Lucas listened, or pretended to. But his thoughts weren’t in that room anymore. They were still walking alongside Lara.
A few minutes later, Atty. Mendez returned, informing them that Lara had left first but wanted to extend her thanks and farewell.
Lucas’ heart clenched.
She left. No final glance. No proper goodbye. Just... gone.
Lucas thanked both attorneys and muttered his own farewells, then he left the room without another word. But the moment the door shut behind him, his pace quickened. He didn’t know what he was chasing. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was just the chance to see her one last time.
Because this might really be the last time.
Outside, night had already blanketed the sky. The air was cooler now, and in the distance, under the dim parking lot lights, he saw her walking calmly toward her car.
His feet moved before his mind caught up, and he called her name, voice barely rising above the weight in his chest.
“Lara.”
She paused and turned slowly, her face catching the soft glow of a nearby street lamp. She looked at him, brows gently raised in question, her expression calm and gentle.
She asked if something was wrong, her voice soft. He shook his head faintly. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, unsure whether he should have said anything at all. But it was too late to turn back now.
“I just wanted to talk to you. One last time.”
His voice cracked around the edges. He hadn’t meant to sound so broken, but the words came out heavier than he intended. He watched her process that, her posture still, gaze steady. Then, after a pause, she gave him a quiet nod.
It meant more than she’d ever know.
Lucas stepped closer, careful not to breach her space. He didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable in the slightest.
He didn’t know where to begin. There was no big speech planned. No dramatic plea. Just a desperate need to say something before she disappeared for good.
So he spoke.
He apologized. Not in the shallow way, but sincerely. Brokenly. For everything. For taking her for granted. For never loving her the way she deserved. For becoming a man he couldn’t even respect.
“I still love you,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “And I think I will… for a long time. Maybe forever. I don’t think I can love anyone else. Not the way I should have loved you.”
The words nearly caught in his throat. His chest ached, a tight burn spreading from his ribs to his throat. But he forced it down. He wouldn’t cry, not in front of her. He couldn’t bear the thought of looking weak, of letting her see just how shattered he truly was, not when this might be the last time she ever looked at him. He didn’t want her final memory of him to be a broken, pathetic man.
“But I’m not going to ask you to take me back,” he said quietly. “I won’t be selfish anymore. I already did, more than I ever should have. I know I lost my chance a long time ago. And I’m… I’m trying to make peace with that. It’s not easy. It’ll take time, but... I’ll try to move on.”
He exhaled shakily, his hands clenched inside his pockets. The lump in his throat burning even more. There was no roadmap for moving on. No guide for healing from the kind of pain you caused yourself.
“But I’ll try to live, Lara. Just like you told me to. I don’t know how yet. But I’ll try.”
It was a promise. To her. To himself. To the man he should have been all along.
“You don’t have to forgive me,” he continued. “I hurt you too deeply. I know I don’t deserve that from you. I only want one thing now.”
He met her eyes again.
“I just want you to be happy. Truly. Because you deserve that more than anyone I know.”
And he meant it with no strings attached. Just truth. Just that one wish. For her happiness, even if it no longer had anything to do with him.
And then he smiled. It was small, fragile, barely there smile, but it held what was left of his heart.
“Thank you,” she finally said, voice barely above a whisper. “You too, Lucas. I hope… I hope you find the happiness you deserve.”
Something in him broke at that. She was still kind. Still gentle. Even after everything he’d done. He didn’t deserve her kindness, and that made it hurt all the more.
“You’re too kind, Lara. And, truthfully... too good for me. That’s what hurts the most. That I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it.”
He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t plead. He had done enough of that already, too little, too late.
Instead, he just looked at her, trying to etch every detail of her face into his memory. The curve of her lips. The softness in her eyes. The strength in her silence.
“Goodbye, Lara.”
With those two words, it feel like everything really ended. And it hurts.
He turned away before she could see the tears rise and spill over. Each step away from her felt like something tearing loose inside him. By the time he reached the far end of the lot, his vision blurred, and the ache in his chest split wide open.
The tears came silently.
He didn’t wipe them away.
He let them fall.
He didn’t look back, not even once.
Because sometimes, love meant knowing when to let someone go.
And this was his moment to prove that, at least once, he could love her right.
Even if it was in goodbye.