Ch 15

New York was colder than I remembered — the kind of cold that seeped past fabric and skin until it settled behind the ribs. It felt poetic, really, how a city could look the same while I was no longer the person who once walked its streets.

By the time I reached Lea's building, I'd stopped trying to rationalize it — the fight, the resignation, the noise. All of it blurred together. What remained was the clarity of one thought, sharp and unrelenting: Lea.

When she opened the door, she looked exactly like she did in every memory that had kept me going — soft, steady, a little unsure. The light from the hallway fell on her face, and for a heartbeat, everything else just... stopped.

"Rafa," she breathed, disbelief and relief intertwining.

"Hi," I managed, my voice smaller than I intended.

And then she pulled me in — not a dramatic embrace, but something quiet, instinctive. The kind that said, you're safe now.

For a while, I didn't move. I just let the weight of the last few weeks dissolve into her warmth — Houston, my father's anger, ate Ava's accusations, the hollow ache of disownment. All of it quieted in her arms.

When she finally let go, I stepped inside. The apartment was messy in a lived-in way — sheet music scattered across the piano, a throw blanket draped over the couch, a faint melody still lingering from the speakers. It smelled like her — a mix of tea and jasmine.

"You came," she said softly.

"I did," I whispered back. "And I'm not leaving this time."

Her gaze lingered on me, unreadable for a moment. "You sure about that?"

I met her eyes. "Lea... I chose you."

The words hung heavy between us — not loud, not desperate, just certain.

Her expression softened, the corners of her mouth trembling into a fragile smile. "Then come in properly. You look frozen."

I sank into the couch, the same one where we'd spent nights talking about everything and nothing. She handed me a mug of tea — her favorite blend, the one she always said "tastes like calm."

"So," she began carefully, "you want to tell me what happened?"

I exhaled, leaning back. "I left Houston. Quit Hopkins. Burned a few bridges."

"That's a lot of fire for one trip," she said, a half-smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah." I took a sip of tea. "Papa's furious. Said I've ruined the family name. Told me I was cut off."

Her brows furrowed, concern flickering.

"I didn't take a cent," I added quickly. "He tried to hand me a check — said it was the last I'd ever get from the De Torres. I left it on the table."

Lea nodded slowly, her eyes softening with quiet admiration. "Okay."

"I have my own savings anyway," I continued. "Enough to get by until I find a new job."

Lea's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Rafa, you keep forgetting one very crucial thing."

"What?"

"You're with me."

I laughed quietly. "Right. I forgot you're Lea Salonga."

"Exactly," she said with mock pride. "You think I can't feed one brilliant doctor? Please. I've fed entire orchestras."

That made me laugh — really laugh — for the first time in weeks.

When the laughter faded, I set the mug down, my fingers fidgeting with the handle. "Lea... can I stay here? Just for a while. I can afford my own place, but... I don't want to be alone right now. I just— I need you."

Her expression softened — that quiet, grounding kind of tenderness that only Lea seemed capable of.

"Then stay," she said. "Stay as long as you need."

"Are you sure?"

She smiled — a small, unguarded one. "Rafa, you showing up here told me everything I needed to know. You've already chosen."

And in that moment — with the city buzzing faintly below us, her tea still warm in my hands, and the ache in my chest finally beginning to ease — I knew she was right.

I didn't come to hide.I came home.

It was later that night, and we hadn't moved much from the couch. The city had gone quiet, the low hum of traffic replaced by the faint tick of Lea's wall clock and the sound of her flipping through a script she wasn't really reading.

I was lying sideways on the couch, one arm draped lazily over a pillow, the other curled beneath my chin. My hair was still damp from the shower; I could smell her eucalyptus shampoo lingering in the air.

Lea finally set the script down, glancing over at me. Her voice came out soft but deliberate."Can I ask you something?"

I turned my head toward her. "You can ask me anything."

She hesitated a moment, as if weighing whether it was too soon. "Your mom... what did she say? When you left?"

I smiled faintly — the kind that hurt more than it soothed. "We talked privately when she spotted me sa may veranda one morning. Quietly, like she didn't want anyone to hear. She told me she understood, even if she couldn't say it aloud when Papa was around. She said she'd pray for me, always, and that she'll keep watching from afar."

Lea nodded slowly, eyes glinting in the soft lamp light. "She sounds like a good woman."

"She is," I said, my voice dropping lower. "She's always been gentle, but she's lived her life walking on eggshells for everyone else. I think part of her wished she could do what I did — just leave."

Lea leaned back, tucking one leg beneath her. "She must've known this wasn't just about work, didn't she?"

I let out a quiet chuckle. "Mothers always know. I think she figured out it was about you long before I did."

That made her smile — small, wistful, but not surprised. "And your father? I know you've said things earlier already. Pero other than that? May moment man lang ba na wala si Ava and perhaps he was... understanding too?"

"Nah," I replied. "You should've seen the look on his face. The moment I said I was done, it was like something snapped. He told me I was ungrateful. That he raised me to be someone of purpose, not someone chasing a—"

I stopped myself.

Lea tilted her head. "Go on."

I sighed. "He said, 'not someone chasing an entertainer.'"

Lea let out a quiet laugh, not bitter, just... resigned. "That's new. Usually they go for 'dreamer,' or 'distraction.'"

I smiled faintly, shaking my head. "Him and ate... hay nako. They kept calling you 'just an actress/just an entertainer.' Over and over. As if those two words could erase everything you've built, everything you are."

Her expression softened, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes — hurt, maybe, or understanding too old to sting. "I've been called worse."

"I know," I murmured. "But hearing it from him made me... angry. Because he doesn't know you. He doesn't know what it's like to see you — not the performer, not the legend — just you."

Lea smiled faintly, reaching across to brush her thumb over my hand. "You always did see me like that. Even when it wasn't easy."

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The city outside blinked softly through the curtains — headlights, streetlamps, a plane crossing the skyline.

Then Lea spoke again, quieter this time. "How much was the check?"

"Two hundred fifty million dollars."

She blinked, a small incredulous laugh escaping her lips. "You're serious?"

"Completely," I said. "He slid it across the table like it was closure. Like he was signing me out of the family registry."

"And you just... left it?"

"I did."

She smiled then — slow, proud, almost amused. "Of course you did."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," she said, leaning closer, "you're still the same Rafaelle I met years ago. You'd walk away from an empire if it meant keeping your soul intact."

I looked at her, really looked — her face half-lit by the amber glow of the lamp, her eyes steady, unwavering.

"Lea," I murmured, "I'd walk away from all of it again if it meant finding my way back to this."

She didn't reply — not with words, anyway. She just reached out, brushing her fingers along my cheek, and whispered, "You already did."

And in the quiet that followed, as the night deepened and the city exhaled around us, I realized how true it was.

This wasn't about rebellion anymore. It wasn't about the De Torres or the money or the expectations.

It was about peace.

And for the first time in years, I'd finally found it — sitting there, in a small New York apartment, with her.