44

The sound of laughter echoed through the villa — not restrained, not careful, but the kind that belonged to younger versions of themselves.

Lea darted down the stairs barefoot, hair loose and wild from the shower, a half-smile tugging at her lips as Rafael chased after her. He wasn't supposed to be running — not after everything, not after what his doctor warned — but there he was, grinning like a boy again, chasing his wife as if the years between them and their first night together had simply folded away.

"Rafael, stop running!" she said through a laugh, glancing over her shoulder. "You're not supposed to—"

"Then stop making me chase you!" he shot back, breathless but happy.

Lea turned the corner into the lounge, nearly tripping on the carpet. Rafael caught her before she could steady herself, his arms wrapping around her waist as they both burst into laughter.

"See?" she gasped, trying to breathe through her laughter. "I told you you're not supposed to run—"

"I caught you, didn't I?" he murmured, his voice low, amused.

She looked up at him — his hair still damp, his expression playful but warm — and for a moment, it felt like the years melted away. Just Rafael and Lea, no CEO, no actress, no weight of legacy. Just two people who had somehow found their way back to simplicity.

"You're impossible," she said, smiling.

He brushed a kiss against her temple. "You love that about me."

Lea rolled her eyes, but her smile didn't fade. "Come on. Before Liam eats all the pancakes again."

He chuckled and followed her toward the kitchen, their laughter lingering in the air like sunlight through the windows.

The smell of coffee and butter hung in the air. The morning light spilled warmly over the long marble counter where Liam sat swinging his legs, a plate of pancakes in front of him. The nanny, Neri, was already gathering his school bag when Rafael and Lea entered the kitchen, still slightly breathless from their earlier chase.

Liam's eyes lit up when he saw them. He climbed off his chair, ran to Rafael, and without hesitation, climbed onto his lap as if it were his natural place in the world.

Rafael looked down, surprised but smiling. "Good morning, champ."

"Morning," Liam mumbled into his chest. Then, in a smaller voice, "I'm sorry, Papa."

Rafael froze, his arms instinctively tightening around his son.

Lea, standing by the counter, watched quietly — her heart swelling at the tenderness of it.

Rafael tilted Liam's chin gently upward. "Hey," he said softly. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes, I do," Liam said firmly, his eyes glistening a little. "I yelled at you. I said bad things. I hurt you."

Rafael's expression softened, every trace of exhaustion fading. "You were honest. You said what you felt. I should've listened better instead of losing my temper."

Liam blinked, confused by how calmly his father took it. "You're not mad?"

Rafael smiled faintly. "No, anak. I'm proud. You spoke your truth — that takes courage. I wish I'd had that much when I was your age."

The boy leaned against his father again, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. "I don't want to fight anymore."

Rafael closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to his son's hair. "Neither do I."

Lea approached then, sliding onto the stool beside them. Liam turned to her next, his voice small again. "I'm sorry, Mama."

"For what, sweetheart?"

"For yelling at Papa. And maybe yelling at you too... a little."

Lea chuckled softly and cupped his cheek. "You have your father's fire, Liam. Sometimes it burns too bright. But that's okay. What matters is you know when to say sorry."

"I just didn't want him to think I hate him," Liam whispered.

Rafael's throat tightened, but he smiled through it. "You couldn't even if you tried."

Neri quietly placed a new plate of pancakes in front of them, smiling to herself as she left the kitchen.

The three of them ate together then — slow, easy, the air no longer heavy with yesterday's tension. Rafael and Lea exchanged glances over Liam's head, small smiles of shared relief.

Lea reached over, cutting another piece of pancake and sliding it onto Rafael's plate. "You should eat before your coffee gets cold."

He smirked. "Are you sure this isn't an excuse to keep me in one place?"

"It's an excuse to keep you alive," she replied dryly, taking a sip from her mug.

Rafael chuckled, the sound light and genuine. He looked across the table — at the crumbs on Liam's plate, at the way the boy talked animatedly about school and friends, his eyes bright again. For the first time in a long while, Rafael allowed himself to simply be there.

Lea noticed the way he kept watching their son, the softened gaze, the quiet smile. She reached across the table, resting her hand briefly over his. He looked up, their eyes meeting.

The unspoken message passed easily between them — we're okay now.

Somewhere upstairs, the faint creak of a door opening could be heard. Ellie was awake. But down here, in the kitchen, it was just the three of them — a small moment of peace reclaimed.

Liam glanced toward the sound, then back at them. "Can I tell Ate Ellie we have pancakes?"

Rafael grinned. "Let her sleep a bit longer. She'll need all her energy to keep up with you."

Liam giggled, sliding off his father's lap to run toward the stairs.

When he was gone, Lea leaned against the counter beside Rafael. The morning light hit her hair just right — soft gold, haloed.

Rafael exhaled slowly, content. "You were right," he murmured.

"About what?"

"That everything breaks... but some things come back stronger."

She smiled, brushing his shoulder lightly. "That's how families work."

And for once, they didn't need to say more. The house was warm again, alive with laughter and footsteps. The storm had passed — leaving only sunlight, forgiveness, and the steady rhythm of home.