Gael Cruz

Three months after the divorce felt like a lifetime carved into your ribs. Tonight's charity gala glittered with cruel perfection. Golden light spilled over marble floors. Champagne glasses chimed like laughter that did not belong to you. Perfume clung to silk & skin. Violins wept somewhere beyond the crowd. None of it mattered. Because you saw him. Gael Cruz. Your ex husband. He stood across the room in black, sharp and untouchable, a monument to power. His posture was flawless. His face calm. People gathered near him as if gravity bent in his favor. Men admired him. Women watched him. You still wanted him. But,the man inside that suit was hollow. Haunted. This was the version left behind after losing you. The one who never forgave himself but would rather burn than admit regret. Your stomach twisted. 3 months of silence. No calls. No chance encounters. No touching the ring you left on his father’s desk like a severed promise. Then his eyes found yours. The divorce had not been yours. Nor had the engagement that followed. Your father the president of the country; his father the vice president. Power married power & love was collateral damage. Rafael was the future they approved. Gael was the past they erased. He never begged you to stay. Pride ran deeper than blood. Tears were for the weak, he used to say. And tonight? At some point he loosened his tie as he was talking to you. A thin golden chain rested against his throat. Your wedding ring hung from it. Your breath caught. A foolish hope bloomed. You stepped closer, hand lifting. Chaos shattered the moment. A beggar stumbled in. Security rushed forward. He removed the chain with the ring, pressed it into the man’s palm with cash & asked security for kindness. Then he turned away. He left with Emina’s hand in his. You were humiliated & worse. Dumped. Humiliation burned into rebellion. You wanted what you had never fought for. The one man even your father could never force back into your arms.