Chapter Text
“Are we really talking about this?” Maraiah asked quietly, her fingers tracing invisible patterns against the rim of her mug.
Christine didn’t answer right away. She was standing by the kitchen counter, staring at nothing in particular, but her mind was clearly miles ahead. “We have to start somewhere,” Christine finally said. “Kung handa na talaga tayo para dito.”
Maraiah’s gaze softened. “Do you think… ready na ulit tayo?”
“I think I am,” Christine turned to her then. “Pero hindi pwedeng ako lang, that’s why I’m asking you.”
The conversation hung between them—fragile, heavy, hopeful.
From the living room came the sound of Chinee’s laughter, bright and unfiltered as she made Chichi “fly” across the sofa. That sound had once filled spaces they thought would forever stay empty.
“5 years old na si Chinee,” Christine continued, voice steady but vulnerable. “And I… I think we still have space.”
Maraiah looked at her wife for a long time. “You know how hard it was with Chinee,” Maraiah reminded her gently.
Christine smiled faintly. “We survived.”
“Pero pano natin gagawin ulit? What procedures? Paperwork?”
“We can do it one step at a time. I’m not saying tomorrow. I’m just saying… if the opportunity comes.”
Maraiah exhaled slowly.
Sometimes, decisions weren’t about readiness. Sometimes, they were about recognizing love when it knocked.
It was Colin who called first.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she said without preamble. “Maya just talked to someone.”
Christine was in the middle of organizing files on her laptop, already accustomed to Colin’s dramatic openings. “Hi to you too.”
“Hi. Okay, listen.” Colin paused for a while. “Maya has a close friend from college, and her cousin is pregnant.”
Christine’s fingers stilled over the keyboard.
Colin continued, voice softer now. “She wants to put the baby up for adoption.”
The air shifted.
Christine swallowed. “Does she—”
“She doesn’t want just anyone,” Colin cut in. “She wants a family. A real one, but she’s scared.”
Christine closed her laptop.
“Can we meet her?” she asked.
Just like that, Christine found herself being driven by Colin to a cafe where they would meet Maya and the mother. While Maraiah stayed home with Chinee, she made Christine promise to call her when they met the mom.
When they arrived in the cafe that afternoon, the cafe was quiet. Maya waved them over first, her expression unusually serious. Beside her sat a young woman—small, composed in the way people are when they’re trying not to fall apart.
“This is Lea,” Maya said gently.
Lea offered a hesitant smile. “Hi.”
“Hello, I’m Christine,” she greeted with a voice that was warm but careful. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be calling my wife so she can also meet you. Naiwan kasi siya sa bahay kasama ng anak namin.”
Lea’s hands rested protectively over her barely visible bump. “May anak po kayo?”
Christine nods with a smile, “Opo, si Chinee. Inaanak po nila Maya.”
At home, Maraiah made sure to keep up with their usual routine as if they weren’t making one of the biggest decisions of their lives. They had snack time at three, a short afternoon run around the block with Chichi, then crayons spread across the dining table afterward.
But when her phone finally rang, everything stilled.
Christine’s face appeared first, then shifted to show Maya and Colin, and then, beside them, sat a slightly nervous Lea.
Chinee leaned forward beside Maraiah. “Who’s that?”
“Someone important,” Maraiah said softly. “She’s really brave, baby.”
“Like a super hewo?” Chinee asked to which Maraiah giggles with a small nod.
“Hello po,” Lea greeted in a small voice.
Maraiah leaned closer into the frame. “Hi. Pasensya na, I couldn’t be there in person.”
Lea shook her head quickly. “Ok lang po, naiintindihan ko pong nagaalaga kayo ng anak niyo.”
As if on cue, Chinee waved enthusiastically into the camera. “Hi!”
Everyone laughed softly.
“That’s her?” Lea asked quietly, looking toward Christine.
“Yes,” Christine said, unable to hide the pride in her voice. “Si Chinee, our daughter.”
Lea’s eyes softened “I wanted to meet both of you, even if it’s just like this.”
Maraiah nodded. “Thank you. No matter what happens, grateful kami kasi you’re giving us a chance.”
There was a pause—not awkward, just heavy with meaning.
“Hindi ko po ginagawa ‘to dahil hindi ko mahal yung anak ko,” she said immediately. “Sa totoo lang po, mahal na mahal ko po yung batang dinadala ko.”
No one interrupted her.
“Kaya lang, sa ngayon po, dalawa na po yung trabaho ko. Pero hindi pa po yung sapat para mabuhay ko yung sarili ko. Tapos yung tatay po…” She paused, swallowing. “Umalis. Iniwan na po kami.”
Maya reached for her hand.
“Alam ko naman po sa sarili kong hindi ko kayang ibigay sa bata yung mga kailangan niya,” Lea continued. “Ayoko po kasing lumaki yung anak ko na may sama ng loob sa akin.”
Christine’s throat tightened, but she still did not intervene.
“Kaya ko po ito ginagawa,” Lea said, her eyes lifting to meet theirs, “gusto ko pong mapanatag na kung sino man po ang magpapalaki sa anak ko ay mamahalin siya, yung higit pa sa kaya ko.”
Maraiah spoke first. “Our daughter was the greatest gift of our lives,” she said softly. “Minahal namin siya, maybe more than we thought we would. If you would give us a chance, nangangako kami that we would give them the same love they deserve.”
Christine nodded. “Mamahalin namin siya kagaya ng pagmamahal namin kay Chinee. Hindi niya mararamdamang naiiba siya o na hindi siya mahalaga sa amin. We can’t give them everything, but we promise to love them, Lea.”
Lea studied them—not their words, but their faces. “You’re married?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” Christine answered without hesitation.
Lea nodded slowly, her composure cracked then. Tears slipped quietly down her cheeks.
“Gusto ko lang naman pong maging ligtas at masaya siya,” she whispered.
A few nights later, after Maraiah had finished bathing Chinee, and Christine just gotten home after running a few errands with Colin and Maya, the three of them sat on the bed.
Christine was on one side, Maraiah on the other, then Chinee in the middle, hair still damp, hugging her favorite blanket.
“Baby,” Maraiah began gently, “remember how Mimi and I told you we might have a baby?”
Chinee nodded.
Christine brushed a thumb along her daughter’s cheek. “The baby’s mommy was the one we talked to a few days ago.”
Chinee blinked. “You’re not going to be their mom and mimi?”
Christine caught Maraiah’s eyes as if communicating silently. Then Christine clears her throat. “Well, some babies are not born into their families. Sometimes, their families choose them so they can love them.”
“But you already have a baby. I’m your baby, Mimi.”
“You will always be our baby,” Maraiah said immediately.
Christine smiled softly. “And if another baby comes, they won’t take your place. Our hearts just… grow.”
Chinee tilted her head. “Like when we got Chichi?”
Maraiah laughed quietly. “Exactly like that.”
Chinee considered this very seriously.
“Will the baby cry a lot?” she asked.
“Yes,” Christine admitted.
“Will they be small like me before?”
Maraiah’s throat tightened unexpectedly.
“Yes,” she whispered.
And suddenly she was seeing it—the blur of five years ago.
The nights they took turns walking the living room, humming lullabies at 3 a.m., too tired to think, but too in love to complain.
Christine seemed to drift there too, as the three of them began to lie down together on the bed.
“She used to fit right here,” Christine murmured softly, placing her palm against her chest.
“And she used to fall asleep on your shoulder every single time,” Maraiah added.
“I still sleep on your chest, Mom,” Chinee protested sleepily.
They laughed through the thickness in their throats.
Maraiah pulled her closer.
“You started all of this, you know,” she said gently.
Chinee frowned. “Started what?”
“Our family,” Christine answered. “You made us Mom and Mimi.”
“And because of you,” Maraiah continued softly, “we learned how to love like this.”
Christine nodded. “You made us brave enough to adopt Chichi. Brave enough to meet the baby’s mommy, and maybe another addition to our family.”
Chinee’s small brows furrowed, trying to process something so much bigger than her.
“So I’m… Ate?” she asked slowly.
Maraiah felt her chest crack open.
“If everything goes well,” she whispered, “yes.”
There was a long silence after that—one of those quiet family silences where something is shifting, but no one wants to move too fast.
Weeks passed in paperwork and waiting.
Christine handled the documents with quiet determination. Background checks. Home visits. Legal consultations. Every signature felt like another step forward. On the other hand, Maraiah kept the house steady—meals warm, routines intact, Chinee grounded.
Sometimes, late at night, they would lie awake, staring at the ceiling.
“Are we ready?” Maraiah would whisper.
Christine would exhale. “We weren’t ready the first time either.”
“But we learned.”
“Yes,” Christine would say softly. “We learned how to run toward something instead of away from it.”
Everything felt like it was going fast, like something so big was approaching before they could keep up.
But the final confirmation came on a quiet afternoon.
Christine read the message three times before her hands started shaking.
Maraiah saw her face from across the room.
“What?” she asked immediately.
Christine looked up, eyes shining.
“She’s coming home with us.”
Maraiah pressed a hand to her mouth.
Chinee, who had been coloring at the table, looked up. “Who?”
Christine knelt in front of her daughter.
“Your baby sister.”
The words felt surreal.
“What’s her name?” Chinee demanded.
Christine and Maraiah exchanged a look.
“Her name is Ayesha Cerene,” Maraiah said gently.
Christine smiled through tears. “But we can call her Ayeen.”
“Ayeen.” Chinee repeated it carefully as if testing how it felt in her mouth. Then she grinned before calling out, “I’m ate Chinee!”
Maraiah and Christine both laughed—half joy, half disbelief.
Their family—once just two women holding onto each other—had grown because of a little girl who used to wobble across their living room. Now, because they chose to stride forward, their family is growing bigger once more.
Five years ago, they ran toward motherhood without knowing what waited at the finish line. Now they were running again. Not away from the life they once had, but toward the future waiting for them. With their little girls, Chinee and Ayeen.