On her wedding day, Sonia Reyes stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in a white dress that looked too elegant for her trembling figure. Her long black hair was neatly tied back, but her hand shook as she clutched a simple bouquet of wild Sampaguita flowers.

Her best friend Maria Dela Cruz came up from behind and hugged her tightly.
“You are strong, Sonia. Don’t forget that you are strong,” she whispered.

Sonia nodded slowly, but the tears had already begun to fall.

The ceremony took place in a quiet chapel in their remote Tagaytay village. Sonia’s groom, Don Manuel Valencia, stood at the altar in a dark gray barong Tagalog. His hair was completely silver, glowing slightly under the golden candlelight.

“I accept,” Sonia whispered. And with that, Don Manuel slid the gold ring onto her finger.

Sonia cried as they exchanged vows. Everyone thought they were tears of joy. But only Sonia knew — these were tears of fear, sorrow, and a fading spark of hope.

She was 19. He was 68.

After the wedding, Don Manuel took her to his grand ancestral mansion in Forbes Park, Manila. The ceilings were soaring. The marble floors echoed with each footstep. Maids and butlers bowed the moment they entered.

Sonia felt like she had landed in a museum, not a home. Her humble village sandals echoed on the expensive floors, and she instinctively clutched her small handbag like a shield.

Don Manuel noticed her discomfort. He gently took her hand and whispered,
“There’s no need to rush. You’ll learn… slowly.”

That night, overwhelmed and emotionally drained, Sonia asked if she could sleep in a separate room. Don Manuel agreed with a slight nod.

Alone, she finally let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding since morning.

But sleep would not come.

She lay awake, staring at the unfamiliar chandelier above her. Her thoughts drifted back to her younger siblings in the village, to her mother’s weak heart, and to the debt collectors who had threatened to seize their rice fields.

Suddenly, she heard a sound.

Water.

Running water — faint but steady.

It sounded like a stream running through the mansion.

She sat up. Her pulse quickened.

“Maybe Don Manuel is in the bathroom… Maybe he’s feeling unwell,” she thought.

Worried, Sonia threw on a soft pink robe over her sleeping clothes and tiptoed out of the guest room.

The hallway was dark, lit only by a dim wall lamp and the thin light seeping from under the bathroom door at the end.

She reached for the doorknob slowly.

Her fingers trembled.

And when she opened the door…

She almost screamed. 😲😲😲

Part 2: The Man in the Mirror 😱

Sonia’s breath caught in her throat.

There, standing in front of the mirror, wasn’t Don Manuel.

It was a young man, no older than 25, drenched from head to toe, steam rising from the hot shower behind him. A fresh towel wrapped around his waist. His face was sharp, his jaw clenched, and his eyes — wide in shock — locked with hers.

“Sino ka?!” they both blurted out at the same time.

Sonia froze.

“I-I’m… I’m Sonia. This is my… husband’s house,” she stammered.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Don Manuel is your husband?”

She nodded, confused and embarrassed. Her hands gripped the doorknob.

He let out a bitter laugh. “Wow. So he really went through with it.”

Sonia was shaking now. “Who are you?!”

The man stepped back, pulled on a shirt. “I’m Joaquin Valencia. His grandson.”

Silence. Only the sound of water dripping from the sink remained.

Then he said, “You really didn’t know, did you?”

“Know what…?” Sonia whispered.

Joaquin looked away, jaw clenched.
“That my grandfather only married you… to get revenge.”

Sonia felt her knees go weak.

Part 3: The Grandfather’s Secret Revenge Plan 😨

Joaquin poured a glass of water from the counter and handed it to her. She sat on the edge of the marble tub, dazed.

“You need to know the truth,” he said.

“My grandfather—Don Manuel—was once madly in love with a woman from your village. Her name was Isabel. She broke off their engagement and married someone else. That someone else was your great-uncle.”

Sonia blinked. “I’ve never heard of this.”

“You wouldn’t. It happened over 40 years ago. But Don Manuel… he never let it go. He believed your family destroyed his life.”

Joaquin stared at her.

“And now? He wants to own your family. He wants the entire town to know he made the proud Reyes girl kneel before him in white. That’s why he offered to pay your family’s debt. Not out of kindness. Out of revenge.”

Sonia was trembling.

“But… I thought he was kind,” she said. “He told me to take my time. That he’d wait.”

Joaquin gave a hollow smile. “That’s part of the plan. He doesn’t want your body. He wants your soul. He wants you to break.”

Tears ran down Sonia’s face.

“I married him to save my mother,” she whispered.

“I know,” Joaquin said quietly. “He chose you for that reason. Because you were willing to sacrifice yourself. Like Isabel never was.”

Suddenly, Sonia stood up. Her eyes clear now, like a storm had passed and left calm destruction behind.

“I won’t be his revenge,” she said. “I’m not a puppet.”

Joaquin looked at her, surprised. “You’re brave.”

She looked at him. “And you? Why are you here?”

He shrugged. “I live here. I came back from abroad a week ago. Didn’t expect to find a wedding when I arrived.”

They stared at each other.

Then Sonia said, “Help me. Help me take back my life. Not just for me, but for my family. Let me win… without losing myself.”

Joaquin hesitated.

Then slowly, he nodded.
“Okay. But if we do this… we do it on your terms. No secrets.”

She held out her hand.
“Deal.”

Their hands met — a silent promise formed in the middle of the mansion that once swallowed her hope.

But now?

Sonia was ready to rewrite the ending.

To be continued in Part 4…