Chapter 109 - Layla and Lia
We got engaged on a Wednesday.
Not because Wednesday meant anything.
Not because it was an anniversary.
Not because the universe had arranged a sunset, a string quartet, and one suspiciously photogenic bird.
Wednesday was simply when the ring arrived.
I had ordered it three weeks earlier.
Then spent those three weeks wondering whether hiding an engagement ring from the woman who routinely opened drawers in my house was an intelligent strategy.
It was not.
I had moved it twice.
Once because Layla needed tape.
Once because Sofia had decided she urgently needed something from my cabinet that she had ignored for approximately six years.
Eventually, I put it in my office safe.
Apparently business infrastructure had romantic applications.
Very efficient.
Wednesday evening, Layla came over after work.
Mama had cooked.
Papa was watching television.
Sofia was upstairs.
Nothing unusual.
Layla walked into the kitchen, greeted Mama, opened the refrigerator, and took water without asking.
Home.
That still did something to me.
Not the dramatic kind.
Just a quiet warmth somewhere behind my ribs.
She looked at me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You have the face."
"What face?"
"The thinking face."
"I always think."
"Unfortunately."
I smiled.
We ate dinner with Mama and Papa.
Layla helped clear the table.
I told her not to.
She ignored me.
Mama liked that.
Traitor.
Afterward, we went outside.
Not somewhere romantic.
Just the small covered area beside the house because the weather was decent and I wanted privacy without making the whole family suspicious.
Unfortunately, Sofia appeared at the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Outside."
"I can see that."
"Then why did you ask?"
She narrowed her eyes.
"Suspicious."
"Go away."
She went away.
Slowly.
Looking back twice.
Terrible child.
Layla sat beside me.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Lia."
"Family surveillance."
"Normal."
I looked at her.
Then thought:
Fine.
No complicated setup.
We had already talked about marriage.
She knew I wanted it.
I knew she wanted it.
The ring was not a trap.
Not an exam.
Not a reward for passing enough relationship milestones.
Just a question we already mostly knew the answer to.
I took the box from my pocket.
Layla looked down.
Then back at me.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
She started smiling.
I opened it.
"I had a speech."
"Had?"
"I forgot most of it."
She laughed.
"Good start."
"Shut up."
"Continue."
I looked at her.
"I love you."
Her smile softened.
"I love the life we have."
She waited.
"I like waking up with you. I like that you steal my food after ordering your own. I like that you know I hate over-sweet coffee. I like that you can make your own coffee and still ask me to make it sometimes."
She laughed quietly.
"I like that you don't need me to run your life."
"That would be exhausting."
"Exactly."
"And I like that you still want me in it."
That part came out softer.
Layla reached for my hand.
I looked at our fingers.
Then back at her.
"I don't need marriage to make this real. But I want to marry you."
Her eyes were warm.
No shock.
No tears yet.
Just Layla.
"So."
I held up the ring slightly.
"Will you?"
She looked at me for maybe two seconds.
"Yes."
I blinked.
"That's it?"
She laughed.
"You want me to think longer?"
"No."
"Then yes."
"Okay."
"Very expressive."
"Fuck you."
She kissed me.
Then pulled back.
"Put the ring on."
"Right."
Important procedural step.
I slid it onto her finger.
Correct size.
Of course.
I had measured one of her rings.
I was not risking poor fit.
She looked at it.
Then at me.
"It's beautiful."
"Good."
"Did you research this for six months?"
"Three weeks."
"Only?"
"I've changed."
She laughed and kissed me again.
From inside the house, something hit the window.
We both turned.
Sofia was standing there.
Both hands over her mouth.
Mama appeared behind her.
Then Papa.
I closed my eyes.
"Privacy is dead."
Layla was already laughing.
Sofia opened the door.
"ATE LIA!"
"Inside."
"YOU'RE ENGAGED?"
"No. I'm holding a ring for her."
Layla raised her hand.
Sofia screamed.
Mama immediately started crying.
Papa smiled.
And apparently privacy became a family event.
Fine.
The wedding planning was surprisingly peaceful.
Suspiciously peaceful.
We wanted small-to-moderate.
Family.
Close friends.
Good food.
Comfortable venue.
No three-hour program designed to test everyone's endurance.
No seventy-eight ceremonial activities.
No guest list full of people neither of us had spoken to in twelve years.
Mama had opinions.
Layla's family had opinions.
Ate Bianca had opinions.
Kuya Nathan had food opinions specifically.
Jane had opinions about timing.
Chloe had opinions about whether speeches should be banned.
"Why speeches?" Chloe asked.
"Because people become dangerous with microphones," Jane said.
I nodded.
"Correct."
Layla looked at me.
"You're giving a speech."
"No."
"You're one of the brides."
"Exactly. I should be protected."
Jane laughed.
We were at a café with wedding notes spread across the table.
Chloe had somehow become unofficial logistics consultant despite repeatedly saying she wanted no responsibility.
Jane was eating fries and contributing only when interested.
Layla was looking at the guest list.
I was checking quotations.
Of course.
Jane leaned over.
"Are you reviewing margins?"
"No."
"Your face says margins."
"I'm comparing packages."
"Same disease."
Layla pointed at one option.
"This one."
I looked.
"Why?"
"Good food. Nice venue. Enough parking. Not too far."
I checked the price.
Reasonable.
"Okay."
Jane stared.
"That's it?"
"What?"
"No spreadsheet war?"
"I have a spreadsheet."
Chloe looked offended.
"You didn't share it?"
"It's for us."
"Wow."
"Boundaries."
Layla smiled.
"Growth."
Everyone was using that word against me now.
Terrible.
Business kept growing while we planned the wedding.
Not explosively.
Properly.
That mattered more.
The additional machine improved turnaround times.
The expanded corporate account renewed.
Two new clients came in through referrals.
Operations hired another coordinator after workload data finally justified it.
I approved the position.
No dramatic understaffing first.
No waiting until everyone was exhausted enough to become a cautionary tale.
Revolutionary.
One afternoon, my accountant handed me the quarterly summary.
Revenue up.
Margins steady.
Cash reserve intact.
Receivables controlled.
I looked at her.
"You're sure?"
She laughed.
"Yes, ma'am."
"No hidden catastrophe?"
"None that I know of."
"Fine."
"Congratulations."
I nodded.
Then checked the time.
Four-thirty.
Wedding fitting at six.
In another life, I might have canceled.
Not because I didn't care.
Because work always knew how to make itself sound more urgent.
This time, I stood.
"Send me the final notes tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am."
I left.
No guilt.
Mostly.
Outside, I messaged Layla.
Lia:
leaving office now
Layla:
on time?
Lia:
don't sound surprised
Layla:
i'm proud of you
Lia:
rude
Layla:
see you soon wife trainee
I stared at my phone.
Lia:
absolutely not
Layla:
too late
I smiled all the way to the car.
We got married four months after the engagement.
Not rushed.
Not delayed.
Just enough time to organize the wedding we wanted without turning it into a second job.
The venue was warm and simple.
Flowers, but not enough to create a botanical emergency.
Good food.
Comfortable chairs.
Proper air-conditioning.
Important.
Family everywhere.
Mama crying before anything even started.
Papa pretending not to.
Ate Bianca fixing something on my clothes even though nothing was wrong.
Kuya Nathan checking whether the caterer had enough food like he personally owned the kitchen.
Ate Vivian laughing at him.
Sofia staring at me.
"What?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
"Your face."
"You're getting married."
"Yes."
"That's weird."
"Why?"
"You're you."
I stared.
"Excellent explanation."
She hugged me anyway.
Longer than usual.
"Love you, Ate."
I hugged her back.
"Love you too."
Then she stepped away and immediately ruined it.
"Still lola."
"Get out."
She laughed.
Somewhere nearby, Chloe was telling Jane to stop adjusting something.
"I can see it's crooked."
"It's fine."
"It's not."
"It's not your wedding."
"I HAVE EYES."
I smiled.
Same people.
Different day.
Good.
Then I saw Layla.
And everything got quieter.
Not because the room actually became quiet.
It didn't.
Someone was moving a chair.
Mama was still crying.
Jane was probably complaining about something.
But I looked at Layla and thought:
There you are.
That simple.
She looked beautiful.
Of course she did.
But more than that, she looked like herself.
Not a symbol.
Not destiny.
Not the answer to anything.
Layla.
The woman who liked forms.
Who hated traffic.
Who remembered frosting preferences.
Who bought my coffee.
Who told me not to invent problems in advance.
Who could make her own life perfectly well.
And chose to build part of it with me.
When I reached her, she whispered:
"Hi."
I smiled.
"Hi."
"Still okay?"
I almost laughed.
Even now.
Still asking.
Still current information.
"Very."
"You?"
"Very."
"Good."
Of course.
The ceremony was short.
Warm.
We said what we meant.
Nothing cosmic.
I didn't promise forever like I had authority over time.
I knew better than that.
I promised honesty.
Presence.
Respect.
To tell her when I needed help instead of quietly turning myself into infrastructure.
That got a laugh from Jane.
I glared at her.
She smiled.
Layla promised to tell me when I was overthinking.
"That's a full-time job," Chloe said quietly.
More laughter.
Layla looked at me.
"See?"
"Hostile witnesses."
Then we exchanged rings.
Simple bands.
Comfortable.
I looked at hers.
Then mine.
And for one second, I was struck by how uncomplicated it felt.
I had spent so many lives thinking love required some enormous proof.
Being chosen.
Choosing correctly.
Timing.
Compatibility.
Sacrifice.
Persistence.
Learning when to stay.
Learning when to leave.
Learning that wanting someone did not make them owe me anything.
All true.
But this?
This wasn't an audition.
Neither of us was trying to earn the role.
Layla wasn't proving she deserved to be my wife.
I wasn't proving I deserved to be hers.
We just wanted each other.
So we chose.
That was enough.
At the reception, Jane hugged me.
Then immediately said:
"You look weird."
I pulled back.
"Fuck you."
"No. Happy weird."
"Better."
She smiled.
"I'm happy for you."
That landed quietly.
"Thanks."
She glanced toward Layla, who was talking to Chloe.
"She's good for you."
I looked at her.
"She's good."
Jane nodded.
Important difference.
Not for me like Layla existed as medication.
Just good.
A whole person.
I smiled.
"Yeah."
Chloe joined us.
"Can I say something?"
"No," I said.
She ignored me.
"You two are disgustingly calm."
Jane nodded.
"Very weird."
"Why is everyone insulting my marriage?"
"It's affectionate."
"Terrible culture."
Then Layla appeared beside me.
"What are we discussing?"
"Your terrible choice in spouse," Chloe said.
Layla looked at me.
"I've made worse decisions."
I stared.
Jane screamed.
Chloe nearly dropped her drink.
Marriage was going well.
Later, after the food, speeches we had failed to completely prevent, family photos, and enough social interaction to exhaust several normal people, Layla and I finally sat down together.
For maybe three minutes.
She leaned against me.
"Tired?"
"Yes."
"Regret?"
"Ask me after I remove these shoes."
I laughed.
She looked around the room.
Our families.
Jane arguing with Chloe.
Sofia taking photos.
Mama talking to Layla's family.
Nothing dramatic.
Just people.
Then Layla asked quietly:
"Do you still want kids?"
I looked at her.
We had touched the subject before.
Not decided.
Not avoided either.
"I think maybe."
She nodded.
"Same."
"Maybe one?"
"Probably."
I smiled.
"Very specific."
"I don't want five."
"Thank God."
She laughed.
Then grew thoughtful.
"Not immediately."
"No."
"I want some time just us."
"Me too."
"And I don't want a child because that's the next thing you're supposed to do after marriage."
"Definitely not."
She looked at me.
"Do you want to be a parent?"
Different question.
I took my time.
I thought of Aria.
For one painful, warm second.
My daughter from a life that no longer existed anywhere except inside me.
I loved her.
Always would.
But this wasn't about getting her back.
No child could do that.
Shouldn't have to.
I looked at Layla.
"I think I do."
She smiled.
"I think I do too."
"Okay."
"Okay."
No decision tonight.
No timeline.
No spreadsheet.
Yet.
I looked around the reception again.
Then at my wife.
My wife.
That was new.
I liked it.
Layla caught me smiling.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Thinking face."
I took her hand.
"My wife."
Her smile changed.
Softer.
"Yeah."
"That's weird."
"Do you want a refund?"
"No."
"Good."
I leaned against her.
The business was growing.
My family was laughing somewhere behind us.
Jane and Chloe were still arguing.
Layla's ring was warm against my hand.
There would be problems eventually.
Life guaranteed that much.
But there wasn't one tonight.
Tonight, I had chosen someone.
And she had chosen me.
No audition.
No rescue.
No catch.
Just Layla and Lia.
And for once, that was enough.