Chapter Text
Today's joint committee hearing had ended almost an hour ago, to no one’s surprise, it was already past working hours. The steady thrum of people occupying the building fizzled down to only a handful. Most Senators had continued on with their lives outside office – everyone except them.
Sherwin sat across from Risa in her office, sleeves rolled neatly above his wrists, a thick folder of draft amendments spread between them. The hearing had gone longer than expected, and as usual, they had decided to finish the rest of the work before heading home.
It has become a habit over the years. Frank Drilon said it first back in 2016, that it was a bad habit they were forming, but they didn’t listen.
Years passed and the room had looked different. They looked different. Even the way they spent time with one another was different. Back then, there had been dinners after hearings. Shared rides when Sherwin would insist on bringing her home. Stolen hours that belonged only to the two of them before duty called – the next campaign sortie, the next issue demanded their attention. Now, there were only documents, and coffee that had long gone cold – still the warmth of the decade of friendship they built remained.
"I still think Section Four needs another paragraph," Risa murmured, flipping through the annotated copy before her. "The safeguards aren't explicit enough. Baka malump together if we phrase it this way."
Sherwin nodded without looking up.
"I'll ask the Legislative staff to redraft it. Good eye, Ris.”
Silence settled comfortably between them. It wasn’t the awkward kind, it was a familiar one – the kind that shows they do not feel the need to fill in the silence with mundane topics. It was the kind of silence that came from years of learning another person's rhythm.
The office clock ticked toward seven thirty.
Sherwin reached for another document just as Risa tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear while her focus remained fixed on the notes she’s writing on the margins.
Something caught the light. A brief flash. It was small enough that he almost missed it. He frowned, his pen laid down the table as he looked at her hand.
“Bago yan?” Risa was never one to wear any extravagant jewelry. She kept with her timeless golds and pearl accessories. He would know.
She looked up.
“Hm?”
He gestured vaguely toward her hand.
“Yan oh.”
For a second, she looked confused, then she followed his gaze. The smile arrived before the words did – and Sherwin’s heart betrayed him. It thrashed against his ribcage with a speed that should be medically concerning. She had a smile upon her lips – it was soft, almost shy.
“Oh, akala ko walang makakapansin.” She laughed under her breath. How could she think that? Sherwin always did. He knew during which days she woke up on the wrong side of the bed, he knew when she didn’t particularly like the coffee, and he knew when she was carrying a weight she never shared with anyone.
“Ris.” That’s all he could say – his question wrapped in one word.
She looked down at the ring again, absentmindedly turning it beneath the office lights.
“I said yes.” The room became impossibly quiet.
Sherwin looked at the ring. It was beautiful – a little extravagant than what he thinks Risa would like, but it certainly looked expensive. He took her hand carefully to inspect it, as though staring at it for hours will make it magically disappear. A single diamond that rested naturally against her hand, as though it had always belonged there.
He remembered another ring. His thoughts drift towards the Pinterest board he had buried under his digital footprints.
“Sherwin?” He didn’t realize she had been talking that whole time.
“I'm sorry?”
“I said…” she smiled again, “...he proposed last weekend.”
“Finally?” He cleared his throat, and she nodded, still with that smile that brides tend to have; gentle and sweet.
“Oh, my God, Ris. Congratulations.” He stood up from the chair that he was occupying across from her, made the round, and engulfed her in a big hug – all while calling the Lord to not let his heart beat out of his chest. “I’m so happy for you, Ris.”
She studied him for a beat as she pulled back from their hug, then her smile widened.
“I was hoping you'd say that.”
“I mean it.” And he did, that was the cruelest part. He was happy for Risa– his dearest friend and ally. He had met the man twice, and he remembered not being opposed to him completely. He remembered the way he made Risa laugh and how he made sure her glass was always filled with water.
He watched as they talked and he was the kind of man who listened more than he spoke. The kind of man who looked at Risa as though she were saying the most important thing he'd ever heard.
The kind of man he could’ve been for her had circumstances been different.
Sherwin had gone home that night strangely relieved. She had found happiness, and she will never know that, despite the years, it’s at the expense of his.
“I actually wanted you to know before everyone else. Yayayain pa nga sana kita mag-dinner kaso napaka observant mo.” His heart tightened, a lump forming in his throat that he just cleared away. “You've always been one of the first people I tell.”
“I’m honored, Ris. Pero wag mo naman ako gawing Ninong ha?”
Risa’s laughter flows through the room, her head thrown back slightly for the light to catch her hair.
“Ano ka ba naman? Ring bearer ka pa nga dapat eh.”
Neither of them really realized that they’re still in each other’s arms.
The invitation arrived three weeks later.
Not through her. She had been impossible to catch these days – speaking engagements, interviews, plenary sessions and caucuses occupied one half of her calendar; wedding preparations, the other. Whenever their schedules crossed, it was in passing. A wave across the plenary floor. A shared elevator. A quick exchange before separate committee meetings claimed them again.
His chief of staff placed the cream-colored envelope neatly on top of the day's briefing papers.
“Pinapabigay po ng office ni Senator Risa, Sir.”
Sherwin nodded absently and received the envelope.
“Salamat.” He continued signing memoranda until the office door clicked shut behind her. Only then did he notice the familiar handwriting.
His name. Written by Risa herself. He smiled despite himself. Some habits never changed.
He opened the envelope carefully. His thumb lingered over the embossed lettering.
Then, without warning— a melody drifted into memory. It had been years ago. Long before the impeachment. Before the sorties consumed every free weekend they had. They had been stuck in Friday traffic along EDSA after a joint committee hearing, too tired to talk, the radio humming softly between them.
The DJ introduced a new Ben&Ben song. "Araw-Araw."
Risa had turned the volume up a little. Neither of them spoke until the chorus.
She smiled to herself. "I like this."
Sherwin glanced at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road.
"The song?"
She nodded.
“I think…” She rested her elbow against the window. "If I ever get married again, I want this playing while I walk down the aisle."
Sherwin smiled. "Noted."
She looked at him with a confused expression."Noted?"
"So I don't accidentally pick the wrong song."
She laughed louder. "You make it sound like you're planning the wedding."
"I'm just preparing."
"For something that may never happen?"
He shrugged. "I like being prepared."
She reached across the center console and intertwined their fingers with his.
"Good."
The invitation was simple.
It was a cream cardstock with gold lettering.
His eyes drifted toward the list of Secondary Sponsors.
Hon. Sen. Sherwin Gatchalian - CORD.
For a long moment, he simply stared at his name. He wasn’t merely an invited guest. She is asking him to stand alongside the people who will send her off to this new journey– one that she always wished she would take again.
She is now asking him to bless a marriage that, years ago, he had once quietly imagined would be theirs.
He leaned back in his chair. Outside his office window, the Philippine flag swayed gently above the Senate grounds. Funny, he thought. Politics had taught him to measure everything – numbers, coalitions, timing. It had never taught him what to do with love that arrived at the right person, but the wrong season.
Neither of them realized that politics had a way of suspending good things.
Sherwin folded the invitation closed. Then, quietly—almost reverently—he placed it inside the top drawer of his desk. As though putting it out of sight might somehow make the ache easier to carry.
It didn't.
Sherwin woke before sunrise.
Not because of nerves, he didn’t have rights for nerves. Wala siyang karapatan. The groom has nerves, the secondary sponsor has duties today.
He woke up before sunrise because sleep had become impossible somewhere around three in the morning. He stared at the ceiling of his condominium until the city outside slowly shifted from darkness to pale blue. By six, he had given up entirely, choosing instead to iron the sleeves of his barong for the second time.
The invitation sat neatly on the kitchen counter.
He had spent the better part of three weeks convincing himself that attending was the right thing to do. That loving someone also meant celebrating the life they had chosen without you. That Risa had asked him to be there, and he never was good at refusing her. She just has to say it. ‘Magsabi ka lang,’ he would always tell her.
He repeated it often enough that it almost sounded true.
His phone vibrated against the marble counter, and the name that flashed automatically brought a smile to his lips.
Risa: Gising ka na?
Sherwin: Good Morning! Kanina pa. Di ako nakatulog ng maayos.
The typing indicator appeared almost immediately.
Risa: Ako rin. Di makatulog.
He stared at the message. For years, he could tell exactly what kind of day she was about to have based on the way she texted. Short replies meant she was anxious. Too many emojis meant she was pretending not to be.
Today there was neither. Only honesty remained.
Sherwin: Wedding jitters? Sabi nila normal naman yan hehe.
Another pause, then:
Risa: Thank you.
He frowned.
Sherwin: Para saan?
This time the reply took longer. The bubble and the three dots appearing and disappearing.
Risa: For saying yes to coming to the wedding, and being our secondary sponsor, hehe.
His thumb hovered over the keyboard.
He wanted to write: I would've gone anywhere if you asked.
Instead, the text that made it to Risa’s inbox was: Wouldn't miss it.
A small heart appeared beneath his message.
Nothing more.
The chapel overlooked the lake.
It wasn't extravagant. The afternoon lights bounced off the white walls. There were heavy, wooden pews, and fresh sampaguita woven between clusters of baby's breath and lavenders. He could see Risa in every detail – the chapel was elegant without trying.
Sherwin stood near the altar with the rest of the secondary sponsors, greeting familiar faces as they arrived. Former colleagues, friends, and their families who shook his hand. There were familiar people – Sinta gave him a quick hug and called him Tito Sherwin, Pia gave him a thumbs up with his barong choice.
The music began, and the room visibly stilled. Every conversation dissolved. Sherwin turned instinctively toward the doors. The string quartet began to play. The first few notes were enough. Sherwin recognized the melody immediately. Noted. The word echoed in his mind before he could stop it.
The doors opened slowly and revealed Risa standing beneath the archway, afternoon light spilling behind her like the day itself had paused to watch her arrive. The gown was no doubt made for her, it was an off shoulder gown with minimal embellishments and clean lines. Lace hugged her frame, and pearls rested against her ears.
She looked happy. True to her favorite word.
Risa tightened her fingers around the bouquet and took a slow breath.
This is it. The words echoed inside her chest more as reassurance than excitement.
She had said yes – not because she was lonely, nor was it because it had been her dream to be a wife again, but because, after years of believing life would always ask her to wait a little longer, someone had finally chosen her without asking her to postpone tomorrow.
She took her first step, then another. The chapel blurred into familiar faces.People who had witnessed every season of her public and private life. She smiled at them instinctively, then her eyes drifted toward the altar toward the man waiting for her.
Only—for the briefest, most impossible second—who she saw wasn't him.
It was Sherwin.
Standing exactly where the groom stood now.Waiting for her with that same quiet smile he wore before every Senate session, hands clasped neatly before him, looking at her as though the rest of the room had ceased to exist.
The image arrived so vividly that it stole the breath from her lungs.
The same church.
A different man.
A future that had once felt inevitable.
She closed her eyes shut for a split second, then the vision vanished.Reality settled back into place.
The groom stood where he always had – soft eyes, steady smile. A life she had consciously, carefully chosen.
Risa blinked hard.
Enough.
She drew another breath and forced herself forward. There was no use mourning a road they had already walked away from. She and Sherwin had loved each other. God knows how much they had; love had never been the thing they lacked.
Time was. Courage, perhaps, or simply a world that had kept asking for more than either of them knew how to give. She had made peace with that. Hadn't she?
Halfway down the aisle, the lace of her gown caught ever so slightly beneath her heel. She faltered. Barely enough for anyone to notice. She looked up and found Sherwin already watching her. His expression had changed before anyone else even noticed she had stumbled.
Their eyes met. Something inside her—something she had spent years carefully folding away into smaller and smaller corners of herself—shifted. Not enough to undo her decision, but enough to fracture the certainty she had carried since the day she'd whispered yes.
Then, just as quickly, the moment was gone.
She smiled. Small. Almost unseen beneath the veil. The kind of smile she had mastered over years in public office—steady enough to reassure everyone else, even when she wasn't entirely sure she believed it herself.
Sherwin watched as she continued down the aisle. Maybe he had imagined it. Maybe it had only been the nerves every bride carried before promising forever, but for the first time since she'd shown him the ring in her office months ago, he found himself wondering if certainty could look so much like hesitation.
The thought unsettled him more than it should have because if there was even the slightest part of her that still questioned this—then perhaps the life they had mourned years ago wasn't buried as deeply as either of them had convinced themselves it was.
The groom offers his hand for her to take as they face God and their families. Their union will be recognized after her years of waiting.
The priest starts: "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony..."If anyone present knows of any reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Sherwin felt his pulse thrum louder than the string quartet. He balled the fist on his sides, and flexed it, and balled it again. He was staring at the flowers that lined the aisle – the one that smelled like Risa, and before he knows it, he is up on his feet. Gasps from the room were heard, Bam pulls at his barong sleeve to make him sit back down, but he rarely felt it.
The priest blinked.
"Senator?" Sherwin swallowed. His pulse roared louder as he looked at Risa. Not the priest, not the groom, just her. No one in the room ever really mattered except her.
"I'm sorry."
A nervous laugh escaped him.
"I – hindi ko alam kung anong sasabihin ko."
The chapel had gone impossibly still. Migz Zubiri was already cursing to himself in the fourth row, and Leni Robredo looks like she’s seconds away from passing out. Her hand flies to her mouth and all she could say was: “Jusko, Sherwin.”
He looked only at Risa.
"I came here today fully prepared to watch you marry someone else." Another breath.
“And I would've. Tatanggapin ko, Ris. Akala ko tanggap ko na. I would’ve kept quiet and supported this new life you’re building kasi ganun pag partners di ‘ba?”
His voice cracked.
“But…” He shook his head. “...you looked at me.”
Silence.
“Hindi ko alam kung guni-guni ko lang yun, o kinakabahan ka lang. Hindi ko alam kung normal lang ba yun sa mga bride.”
His eyes never left hers – by this point, under the veil, tears are already forming in Risa’s eyes.
Sherwin walks towards the aisle. Dead center as she talks to the bride herself. “But, if there’s even the slightest doubt you’re holding in right now,” he takes a step forward. “huwag kang um-oo ngayon dahil lang ito na 'yung naplano mo.”
A murmur rippled across the pews.
“Tito Sherwin…” Kiko, Risa’s eldest, stood by his side. Urging him to stop and take his seat again, Kiko knew. He knew exactly why he was doing it because he had been the first to know, the first one Sherwin talked to when he wanted to court their mother.
Sherwin continued anyway.
“I want you to live your happiest life, Risa. Huwag kang mangako ng habambuhay kung may bahagi sa'yo na hindi pa sigurado.”
He smiled sadly.
"Hindi ko sinasabing piliin mo ako ngayon, piliin mo ako ulit, but I'm asking you to choose the life you're certain of.”
His eyes softened.
“And if…” his voice barely rose above a whisper. “If that happiness and that life includes me, if there's still a part of you that wonders what would've happened to us…” Another step. “I'm here. I will spend the rest of my life making up for every 'after this' that kept us apart.”
Another silence – you could hear a pin drop. Bridesmaids clutched their bouquets. Sinta and Issa are already openly crying. There’s a tear streaking down Pia’s face, she whispers: Sherwin, as if his name carried the heartbreak of the years he and her sister spent together.. The groom kept a straight face, his jaw tight.
All of their eyes turned towards Risa. No one spoke; not the priest, not the wedding organizers, not the guests who had arrived expecting to witness the beginning of a marriage and now found themselves suspended in the middle of another kind of promise.
Risa stood at the center of the aisle, bouquet hanging loosely at her side, her pulse so loud she wondered if the whole church could hear it. For years, decisions had always come easily. She had prepared for it – read every page, weighed every consequence. Nothing had prepared her for this.
She had chosen duty. She had chosen to let go of the man she loved because the country had asked for more than either of them knew how to give. She had made peace with that, or at least she had spent years believing she had.
Sherwin's words echoed somewhere beneath the ringing in her ears.
I want you to live your happiest life, Risa.
The lace trembled beneath her fingers. Slowly, she reached up and gathered the veil between her hands.
A quiet gasp rippled through the pews. She closed her eyes. For one impossible moment, she allowed herself to imagine the life she had buried.
Saturday mornings that belonged to no one but them.
Committee papers forgotten on a dining table.
Growing old without checking calendars first.
Her children calling dibs to have their Tito Sherwin’s time first. Him beside her during Sinta’s graduation. Him beside her as Ianna opens a new exhibit.
Ordinary. It had always been such an ordinary dream. When she opened her eyes again, tears had already blurred the chapel into soft shapes of white and gold.
She lifted the veil. The lace slipped back over her shoulders. There was no applause. No whispers – everything was suspended. She looked first at the man waiting at the altar. A man who had loved her honestly. Who deserved someone whose heart arrived with them. In her lips are prayers that he might forgive her, someday.
“I'm sorry.” He simply nods, and says "Go."