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If there was one thing Rafael De Torre never did, it was sing.

He'd hum sometimes — under his breath while reviewing documents, or while tinkering with breakfast — but never in public. Not even at home. Not at galas, not at karaoke nights, not even when Lea would tease him during long drives with, "You know you married a Broadway singer, right? It's practically a sin not to sing."

Rafael would just chuckle and kiss her knuckles. "Lei, I run board meetings, not musicals."

So when Kris Aquino sent an invitation to a casual gala — a charity dinner-slash-mini-concert with friends, held at The Peninsula — Lea and Rafael accepted thinking it would be light, easy, and most importantly, lowkey.

That was until Kris, in her signature glimmering confidence, took the mic midway through the evening and said, "Of course, it wouldn't be a night to remember if we didn't have the Lea Salonga sing something for us, right?"

The applause was instantaneous.

Lea laughed from her seat, shaking her head. "Kris, I came to watch, not perform!"

"Then perform and watch yourself shine!" Kris countered, grinning.

Rafael leaned back with a smirk. "You walked into that one, Lei."

She shot him a look — a mixture of playfulness and mock menace — before taking the mic anyway. "Alright, alright. What are we singing then?"

Someone from the band suggested Sun and Moon from Miss Saigon. The room gasped in approval.

Lea blinked, smiling faintly. "A duet, huh? Well... who's the lucky stranger to sing with me tonight?"

The crowd murmured with excitement, laughter rippling across the tables — most eyes darting toward the men present, all nervously avoiding her gaze.

Then, out of nowhere, a familiar voice cut through the room.

"I'll do it."

Lea turned — and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

Rafael. Standing up. Half a glass of whiskey in hand, that lazy, confident smirk tugging at his lips.

The crowd cheered, startled and delighted.

Lea blinked rapidly, eyes wide. "You?"

He nodded once. "Why not? It's one of my favorites."

Kris clasped her hands in delight. "This I have to see!"

Lea laughed nervously. "Paeng, are you sure? You've never—"

He just winked. "Trust me."

That wink — equal parts charm and mischief — had Lea giggling as she gestured toward the band. "Alright then, Mr. De Torre. Let's see what you've got."

The lights dimmed slightly, the music swelled — that familiar, tender opening of Sun and Moon filling the ballroom.

Lea started first, her voice smooth and crystal clear, the years of performing wrapped in every note. She was grinning through the first verse, already imagining her husband would miss his cue or laugh halfway through.

But then—

He sang.

And the room stilled.

"You are here like a mystery... I'm from a world that's so different... From all that you are..."

The voice that came out of Rafael wasn't just in tune — it was deep, steady, rich. His tone was natural, controlled, and heartbreakingly beautiful.

Lea's lips parted in disbelief. The man she'd spent decades with, the man who never sang, was suddenly holding his own next to her — perfectly.

Her shock melted into a slow, dawning smile. Her eyes glistened.

She sang back softly, their voices blending effortlessly — the balance of power and tenderness, command and surrender.

Lea: Outside day starts to dawnRafael: Your moon still floats on highLea: The birds awakeRafael: The stars shine tooLea: My hands still shakeRafael: I reach for you

Both: And we meet in the sky!

Rafael's eyes didn't leave hers. For once, there was no crowd, no spotlight — just them. Two lives that had seen storms and survived them.

By the bridge, Lea had forgotten they were performing.By the last line, she realized — she had fallen in love with him all over again.

When the final note faded, the ballroom exploded in applause and cheers. Kris was on her feet, clapping furiously, nearly in tears. Boy Abunda was shouting, "That's it! That's the headline tomorrow!"

Rafael chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck like a shy boy caught doing something extraordinary. Lea, meanwhile, stood frozen for half a second before she reached for him, pulled him close, and whispered, "You liar."

He laughed softly, lips brushing her ear. "I never said I couldn't sing. You just never asked."

She smacked his arm lightly, shaking her head. "You mean to tell me I've been married to a man who can sing like that for years and you just— what? Hum during breakfast?"

He grinned. "You always take the lead, Lei. I didn't want to compete."

"Compete?" she scoffed, smiling. "You just gave me the best duet partner I've had in years."

From the sidelines, Kris was clutching her chest. "I can't! Lea, Rafael, that was romantic murder!"

Boy laughed. "That's going viral tonight."

Rafael leaned into Lea as the applause continued. "So, Mrs. De Torre, how'd I do?"

She smiled up at him, eyes gleaming. "You did dangerously well, Mr. De Torre. Dangerous enough that I might have to sing with you more often."

He raised a brow. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

She smirked. "Both."

And as the crowd kept cheering — Kris wiping imaginary tears, Boy shouting that Rafael should record an album — Lea realized something she'd never forget:

Her husband, the man who conquered boardrooms and built empires, just stole the night not with words or power — but with a song.