Chapter Text
For their first anniversary, Colet didn't want to go to a fancy restaurant where they had to be on. She wanted to go back to where Attorney Sungit first met her Sunshine.
The rain was pouring just as hard as it did a year ago. Colet stood outside the boutique, but instead of a leather portfolio, she was holding a bouquet of sunflowers and a small, velvet box. She waited for the clock to hit exactly 1:00 PM—the same time she first sought shelter under that pink awning.
Inside, Maloi was closing up, humming a tune while tidying some silk scraps. When the bell chimed, she didn't even look up.
"Sorry, we’re closed for a private—"
She stopped when she saw Colet. The attorney was leaning against the doorframe, wearing the very first charcoal suit Maloi had ever critiqued.
"Attorney?" Maloi laughed, walking over.
"Bakit suot mo 'yan? Sabi ko sa'yo diba, your designer didn't love you when they made that."
"I know," Colet said, her voice soft and full of meaning.
"I wore it because I wanted to remember the exact moment my life started to change. The moment I walked in here looking for a dry place and found you instead."
Colet walked to the center of the shop, the same spot where she once stood stiffly for measurements. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small silver pin—it was shaped like a tiny, elegant sun, but in the center was a small, deep red ruby.
"You spent a year dressing me in power suits and tuxedo-gowns to make me feel strong," Colet whispered, pinning the sun onto her own lapel.
"But the truth is, I’m only strong because I have you waiting for me at the end of the day. Happy anniversary, my Sunshine."
Maloi didn't say anything at first; her eyes just welled up with tears. She threw her arms around Colet’s neck, nearly knocking the lawyer over.
"Akala ko nakalimutan mo kasi busy ka sa court kanina."
"Never," Colet promised, holding her tight.
"I’ve marked this date as 'non-negotiable' in my calendar for the rest of my life."
Maloi pulled back, a mischievous glint returning to her teary eyes.
"Does that mean I can finally make you that emerald green suit? Yung may sequins?"
Colet winced, but then she smiled, leaning in to kiss her.
"Fine. Pero sa anniversary party lang natin isusuot, okay? Deal?"
"Deal!" Maloi cheered, pulling Colet toward the back office where a bottle of wine and two strawberry cupcakes were already waiting.
"Love, have you seen my fabric shears?" Maloi shouted from the living room, her hair in a messy bun with two pencils sticking out of it.
Colet emerged from the kitchen, looking sharp in a charcoal vest but with a pink "Hello Kitty" apron tied over it—a gift from Maloi that she secretly cherished. She held up the shears.
"They were on the kitchen island. Next to the toaster. Again."
"My hero," Maloi chirped, running over to plant a messy kiss on Colet’s cheek.
Colet caught her by the waist before she could flutter away.
"Breakfast first. I made your favorite pancakes. And no, you cannot eat them while draping that mannequin. Last time, we ended up with maple syrup on a three-thousand pesos lace."
"It added character!" Maloi protested, but she let Colet lead her to the table.
Being the girlfriend of the city’s top tailor had its perks, but it also meant Colet was a permanent "live mannequin."
"Love, stand still for a second," Maloi said, her mouth full of pins as she knelt at Colet’s feet one Sunday afternoon. They were supposed to be watching a movie, but Maloi had been struck by a "vision" for a new line of power suits.
"Love, it’s Sunday. I just want to wear these sweatpants," Colet groaned, though she dutifully stood up and held her arms out.
"Sweatpants are the enemy of progress," Maloi muffled through the pins. She looked up, her eyes narrowing as she adjusted the hem of a new prototype jacket Colet was wearing over her joggers.
"Actually... the joggers with the structured blazer? It’s a vibe. We’re calling it 'The Relaxed Litigator.'"
Colet looked in the mirror, sighing at her reflection. She was wearing a high-fashion wool blazer over grey Hanes sweatpants.
"I look like I lost a trial and my mind at the same time."
"You look hot," Maloi corrected, standing up and wrapping her arms around Colet’s neck.
"And since I’m the boss of your closet, you have to agree."
Sometimes, the domestic life spilled into the law firm. Colet was in the middle of a high-pressure Zoom call with three senior partners when her office door creaked open.
Maloi slid in, staying low to the ground to avoid the camera. She crawled toward Colet’s desk and popped her head up just enough to place a fresh strawberry smoothie and a Tupperware of sliced mangoes next to Colet’s laptop.
She blew a silent kiss and started to crawl back out, but her ponytail caught on the corner of the desk, causing a loud thud.
"Attorney Vergara? Is everything alright on your end?" one of the partners asked, peering through the screen.
Colet didn't even blink. She reached under the desk, gently untangled Maloi’s hair, and kept her gaze fixed on the camera.
"Everything is fine, Sir. Just... a minor disturbance in the workspace. Please continue with the merger details."
Under the desk, Maloi squeezed Colet’s knee and gave her a thumbs-up. Colet’s hand dropped down to squeeze back, her thumb stroking Maloi’s knuckles while she calmly argued about corporate liability.
Saturday mornings usually began with a battle of wills. Colet, a creature of habit, would be up at 6:00 AM, her internal clock refusing to recognize a weekend. She’d be in the kitchen, the steam from her black coffee rising as she scrolled through legal updates on her tablet.
Then, the "disturbance" would arrive.
Maloi would stumble out of the bedroom around 8:00 AM, hair a glorious mess of tangles, wearing one of Colet’s oversized white dress shirts. She wouldn't say a word; she would simply walk behind Colet and collapse her entire body weight onto the attorney’s back, her arms wrapping around Colet’s neck like a clingy koala.
"Love, I’m reading about the new amendments to the Civil Code," Colet would murmur, though she’d already set her tablet down.
"Amendment number one," Maloi mumbled into Colet’s shoulder, her voice thick with sleep.
"Weekends are for cuddles. Everything else is unconstitutional."
Colet would sigh—that long, dramatic lawyer sigh—but her hand would instinctively reach up to stroke Maloi’s messy hair.
"Is that so? I don't recall seeing that in the Constitution."
"I wrote it in the margins," Maloi giggled, finally pulling back just enough to steal a sip of Colet’s bitter coffee, only to make a face.
"Pwe! Ang pait. Just like you before you met me."
Even as wives, the boutique remained their second home. But now, Colet had a permanent leather armchair in the corner of Maloi’s office, often seen grading papers or reviewing case files while Maloi draped mannequins.
One afternoon, a new, nervous intern at the boutique walked into the back room.
"Um, Ms. Maloi? There’s a woman in a very expensive suit in the lobby demanding to see you. She says she doesn't have an appointment but it’s 'urgent' and 'non-negotiable.'"
Maloi didn't even look up from her sketches. She just smiled.
"Does she have glasses, a very sharp jawline, and a look like she’s about to sue the entire building?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"That’s just my wife. She probably forgot her lunch again," Maloi laughed.
"Send her in, and tell her that 'urgent' visits require a payment of at least one kiss."
The intern stood frozen as Colet marched in, looking every bit the formidable attorney, only to melt the moment Maloi stood up. The staff watched through the glass as the "Terror of the Courtroom" set down a paper bag of takeout and let Maloi fix her collar for the thousandth time.
The atmosphere in the Vergara household shifted the moment Colet stepped through the door. It was 11:00 PM, and the high of a successful trial was still thrumming through her veins. She dropped her keys on the console, but she didn’t call out for Maloi. She didn't have to.
Maloi was in the living room, draped over the velvet sofa with a glass of red wine, her eyes dark and fixated on her wife. She was wearing one of Colet’s discarded dress shirts—nothing else—and the sight made the attorney’s professional composure shatter instantly.
"The verdict?" Maloi asked, her voice a low, melodic purr.
"Guilty on all counts," Colet replied, her voice dropping an octave as she began unbuttoning her blazer. She didn't look away.
"And the defendant is currently facing a very long night."
Colet crossed the room, her movements predatory and precise. She didn't stop until she was standing between Maloi’s legs. She reached down, gripping the back of the sofa on either side of Maloi’s head, trapping her. The scent of Maloi’s peach perfume mixed with the sharp aroma of Colet’s expensive cologne—a combination that always signaled the end of their professional boundaries.
"You're late, Mrs. Vergara," Maloi whispered, her fingers trailing up Colet’s thighs, tracing the sharp crease of the custom trousers she had sewn with her own hands. She felt the heat radiating from Colet’s skin.
"I was beginning to think I’d have to start the celebration without you."
"The court ran late," Colet murmured, leaning down until her lips were a breath away from Maloi’s ear.
"But I’m home now. And I’m very, very impatient."
Maloi’s hands moved to Colet’s tie—the lavender silk she had insisted on that morning. She didn't untie it gently. She gripped it, tugging Colet down into a kiss that tasted of wine and desperation. It was a kiss that spoke of three years of marriage and a lifetime of wanting more.
Colet groaned into Maloi’s mouth, her hands moving to grip Maloi’s waist, hoisting her up until Maloi was wrapped around her. The grumpy Attorney was gone, replaced by a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and exactly how to take it.
"The bedroom?" Maloi gasped out, her head falling back as Colet’s lips found the sensitive skin of her neck.
"Too far," Colet growled, her hands sliding under the hem of the white shirt.
"The cutting table."
Maloi let out a breathless laugh, her fingers tangling in Colet’s hair.
"Professional-mode is officially over, then?"
"Objection overruled," Colet whispered against her skin, lifting her wife with an ease that made Maloi’s breath hitch.
"Tonight, there is no law, Maloi. Just this."
As Colet carried her toward the back studio, the moonlight hitting the rolls of silk and the sharp edges of the tailoring equipment, Maloi realized that no matter how many suits she made for her wife, Colet was always at her best when she was taking them off.
The air in the studio was thick with the scent of cedarwood and expensive fabric, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating between them. Colet didn’t break the kiss as she cleared a space on the heavy oak cutting table, sweeping aside a stack of patterns and a tray of silver pins with one decisive move. The clatter of the pins hitting the floor was the only sound in the room besides their ragged breathing.
She hoisted Maloi onto the edge of the table, the cool wood a stark shock against Maloi’s skin. Colet stepped between her wife’s legs, her hands—usually so steady when holding a legal brief—trembling slightly as she gripped Maloi’s hips.
"Love," Maloi breathed, her fingers digging into the fabric of Colet’s vest.
"You’re still wearing too many layers."
Colet pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, her gaze dark and focused. She slowly unbuttoned the vest, letting it drop to the floor, followed by her shirt, until only the silk tie remained draped loosely around her neck. Maloi reached for it, wrapping the fabric around her hand to pull Colet back down.
"I spent hours on this suit," Maloi whispered, her thumb tracing the line of Colet’s lower lip. "Every stitch was a thought of you. Every measurement was a way to touch you."
"Then you know exactly how to take it apart," Colet countered, her voice a low rumble.
She leaned down, her lips trailing a path of fire from Maloi’s jawline to the hollow of her throat. Maloi’s head fell back, her eyes fluttering shut as Colet’s hands wandered with a possessive familiarity. There was no "Attorney Sungit" here—only a woman completely unraveled by the touch of her wife.
Colet’s touch was firm and intentional, her palms skimming over the soft curves Maloi had hidden under the oversized shirt. Every time Maloi let out a soft, broken sound, Colet doubled down, her lips finding the sensitive pulse point at Maloi’s neck.
"Tell me," Colet murmured against her skin, her breath hot and uneven.
"Am I being professional enough for you now?"
The only music in the studio was the rhythmic, jagged sound of their shared air. Every time Colet’s lips pressed against a new patch of skin, Maloi’s breath hitched—a sharp, staccato gasp that echoed off the high ceilings. Colet answered with a low, primal growl of a sigh, her own breathing heavy and labored, vibrating against Maloi’s chest.
"Colet..." Maloi’s voice was barely a thread, broken by a shaky exhale as her wife’s hands tightened on her waist.
The air between them felt thick, charged with the heat of their bodies. With every movement, their breaths tangled—Maloi’s soft, airy whimpers meeting Colet’s deep, rhythmic huffs. It was the sound of two people completely unraveled, a symphony of wanting that filled the quiet spaces between the bolts of silk. As the intensity peaked, the only thing louder than the pounding of their hearts was the synchronized, frantic tempo of their breathing, ending in a long, shuddering exhale that signaled their complete surrender to each other.
The heat of the encounter eventually settled into a heavy, comfortable warmth. Colet had carried Maloi back to their bedroom, but they didn't go back to sleep immediately. Instead, they were tangled together under the high-thread-count sheets, the moonlight casting long, soft shadows across the bed.
Colet lay on her back, her arm serving as Maloi’s pillow. Maloi was curled into her side, tracing the faint, rhythmic rise and fall of Nicolette’s chest with her fingertip. The only sound left was the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the steady, synchronized beating of two hearts.
"Love?" Maloi whispered, her voice honey-thick with sleep and lingering affection.
"Hmm?" Colet murmured, turning her head to press a kiss to the top of Maloi’s messy bun.
"I was looking at the nursery space in that new house design I was sketching," Maloi started, her finger stopping over Colet’s heart. She felt Colet’s breath hitch—not in fear, but in a sudden, sharp interest.
"What do you think? Do we have room for a little sunshine or a mini-Attorney in our life?"
Colet went still for a moment, her mind—usually filled with case law and strategies—suddenly flooding with the image of a small child with Maloi’s bright eyes and perhaps her own stubborn chin. The thought made her heart swell in a way no courtroom victory ever could.
"I think," Colet said, her voice dropping to a soft, reverent tone, "that our house is a bit too quiet lately. And I think a child who has your heart and my... well, my ability to win an argument... would be absolutely unstoppable."
Maloi giggled, snuggling closer.
"Imagine a toddler in a custom-fit Ricalde-Vergara romper, arguing with you about bedtime using legal terms."
"Objection, Mama! Bedtime is a violation of my right to play," Colet mimicked, a rare, genuine laugh bubbling in her throat. She tightened her hold on Maloi.
"I want that, Love. I want a future where there are tiny suits and messy fingerprints on my legal briefs. I want to see you teach someone how to sew their first button."
"And I want to see you teach them how to stand up for themselves," Maloi added, looking up at her wife with eyes that shimmered in the dark.
"We’d be good at it, wouldn't we? The grumpy and the sunshine... raising a little light of their own."
"We’d be the best at it," Colet promised, leaning down to capture Maloi’s lips in a kiss that wasn't about passion, but about a lifetime of tomorrows.
"But for now... let's just practice the 'making' part a little longer."
Maloi laughed, pulling the duvet over their heads as the quiet of the night turned into the blueprint of their forever.