When One Boy Ruined Her Theory

I

Dear Readers

I would like to let you know that this Story is purely fictional. All the characters, places, and events are created from imagination and not based on real people or true stories.

This story was written to entertain, inspire, and allow you to explore a world beyond reality. I hope you enjoy the journey within its pages.

Sincerely,
Kellyanne202

CHAPTER 1: The Weight of a Name

Saint POV

I stood in the lobby of my parents' company, looking up at the high ceilings. My mom had called me here, and I didn't even bother to ask why. Ever since Kuya died, this entire building felt heavier-like the walls were holding onto memories of him that the rest of the world was trying to forget. Every corner I turned, I expected to see him walking toward me with that confident smile of his.

But the air here was different now.

Papunta raw dito ang asawa ni Kuya para mag-file ng divorce... dahil mag-aasawa ulit si Ate chelsea.

The words still don't sit right with me.

Wala pang isang taon nang mamatay si Kuya sa hindi naming inaasahang aksidente. And just like that... everything changed. My mom was never the same after that day. She stopped smiling the way she used to. She stopped laughing. She just worked, prayed, and waited for something that will never come back.

And now... this final insult.

We were all inside the executive office, waiting. The silence was suffocating me. I watched the clock on the wall, each tick sounding like a hammer.

"Sorry, I'm late," Ate Chelsea said as she walked in. She sat down smoothly, adjusting her designer bag as if she wasn't carrying absolute chaos with her presence.

I looked at her-really looked at her. She was calm and composed, like nothing in her life had ever been broken. She looked like a woman who hadn't just lost a husband, or walked away from a family that was still bleeding from the loss.

"It's okay. Let's get down to business," Mom answered. Her voice was cold, but I could hear the faint tremor she was trying so hard to hide.

Under the table, I could see her hands slightly clenched under the table. She was trying so hard not to fall apart.

"20 million pesos. I hope we never see each other again," Mom added.

The words hit like a slap.

I swallowed hard, the taste of bitterness in my mouth. Twenty million pesos... is that what the memory of my brother was worth? Was that the price for the years he gave her, for the love that ended in silence?

"Don't worry, Mom," Ate Chelsea replied. Her voice was flat, empty of any emotion, as if we were just discussing a simple business.

"Mrs. Laurel," Mom corrected her immediately. Her voice was sharp enough to draw blood this time.

Ate Chelsea didn't even flinch. She just straightened her posture. "By the way, I'm going to Paris next week," she added casually, as if she were talking about the weather. It was like she was already erasing us, stepping out of a life she had helped destroy without a single backward glance.

"I heard you're getting married again, huh?" Mom asked. Her voice finally broke on that last word.

"That's right," Ate Chelsea answered simply.

At that moment, I saw it-my mom's composure finally cracked. The wall she had built around her grief came tumbling down.

"Isang taon pa lang nang mamatay ang anak ko..." Mom's voice was trembling violently now, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Mag-aasawa ka kaagad?"

The room went deathly still. I felt like I couldn't breathe properly, the oxygen leaving the room.

"Mrs. Laurel, what I do in my life is my business," Ate Chelsea said firmly. Her voice was like a stone wall that no emotion could pass through. She looked at my mother's heartbreak and felt nothing.

I felt something inside my chest tighten into a knot of pure anger. How can someone speak so easily, so coldly, when my mother is breaking into pieces right in front of her?

Without saying another word, Ate Chelsea took the pen. The sound of it scratching against the annulment papers was the only noise in the room-the final sound of something dying for good.

It was over.

She stood up, smoothing out her skirt. "Bye, Saint..." she said softly, looking at me for a split second before heading for the door.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. I knew that if I opened my mouth, I would say something so dark and so hateful that I could never take it back. I just watched her go.

The door clicked shut, and suddenly, the room felt colder.

Mom stood up slowly from her seat, her shoulders shaking. She was barely holding herself together. When she finally turned to look at me, her face looks disappointment, grief, and an anger so deep it didn't have a name.

I rushed to her side, catching her before she could stumble. "Mom..." I said softly, gripping her arm to steady her. "Don't worry. That will be the last time you will ever have to see that woman. We're done with her."

But even to my own ears, my voice sounded hollow. I wasn't sure if I was comforting her or just trying to convince myself that we could actually move on.

Mom turned to me, her eyes brimming with tears she refused to let fall. She reached out and gripped my hand so tightly it hurt, like I was the only thing keeping her from being swept away.

"Promise me, Saint," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Promise me na hindi ka gagaya sa Kuya mo. Promise me you won't choose that kind of woman... someone who can throw away a life so easily."

She looked at me with so much desperation it made my heart ache. "You're the only hope I have left, Saint."

And in that moment, I felt a heavy, suffocating weight settle deep inside my chest. It wasn't just the grief for my brother anymore. It was a promise I didn't know how to keep. Because as I stood there in the wreckage of our family, I couldn't help but wonder...

what if I become exactly what she's afraid of?