After spending a few weeks in California, we finally agreed it was time to fly home.
We both had work waiting.
For me, that meant photo shoots, brand meetings, and memorizing lines for my next film.
For Raphael, it meant long hours at the hospital, constantly on call.
We didn't take a commercial flight, of course. That was too risky. Too public. Too many cameras.
Instead, my parents' private jet was ready, crew vetted for their ability to keep secrets.
We boarded quietly.
I settled into the plush seat, crossing my legs, checking my phone for studio emails.
Raphael sat beside me.
Five minutes later?
Asleep.
Head back, mouth slightly open, totally knocked out.
I blinked at him.
Seriously?
I stifled a laugh and poked his cheek.
Nothing.
My lips curled into a smirk.
So this is my power?
A literal sleeping pill?
I leaned back with a sigh, sipping my champagne, watching his peaceful face.
Even now, with no cameras around, I found myself hyper-aware of my posture, my face.
An actress even here.
Always on guard.
Always careful.
Because one leaked photo of us on this jet, and the entire country would explode with rumors.
"Claudia Araneta secret boyfriend?!"
They didn't even know half of it.
We were married.
And no one could ever find out.
When we landed in Manila, Mom and Dad insisted we stay at the family mansion.
I didn't even let them finish.
"No, thanks. We'll stay at my condo."
Dad raised an eyebrow. "Why not just buy a house? You can afford it."
I shrugged. "We'll do that when we have kids."
Raphael, drinking water, choked so hard he almost sprayed it everywhere.
I fought the grin that threatened to show.
I sent Raphael my condo address and headed there in my car.
Alone.
Windows tinted, cap low, sunglasses on even though it was dusk.
Standard Claudia Araneta protocol.
No paparazzi shots of me looking sloppy.
No scandals.
No headline reading:
"CLAUDIA ARANETA MOVING IN WITH A MYSTERY MAN?!"
God, i'd have to kill someone.
When i got home, I exhaled.
Finally.
Safe.
I dropped my bags and headed to the bedroom.
Even though i have a cleaning service, I still fussed over the place.
Fluffing pillows. Straightening vases. Lighting my expensive candles.
Spraying perfume everywhere.
Even if i couldn't smell it much right now.
He could.
And God help me, I wanted him to.
I caught myself in the mirror.
Hair slightly messy from the flight.
Eyes a bit tired.
But still camera-ready.
Always.
Because even here, alone, I am Claudia Araneta.
When Raphael finally arrived, I actually felt... excited.
I swung the door open before he could knock twice.
"Hi."
He blinked at me, surprised.
I gestured him in.
"Welcome home," I added before I could stop myself.
My heart did something weird at the word home.
He stepped in, taking in the modern decor and city view.
I took his hand before he could think twice, dragging him on a quick tour.
"Living room. Kitchen. Balcony view's nice at night. And—"
I flung open the last door.
"Our bedroom."
He froze.
His gaze shifted to the guest room door.
"I'll stay there."
My smile dropped so fast it nearly cracked my face.
"What."
He set his suitcase down. "The guest room."
I glared.
"Fine! Do whatever you want. But don't blame me when you can't sleep without me."
I stomped into my room and slammed the door.
Alone, I flopped on the bed, furious.
Ugh.
He's impossible.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling.
Thinking.
Planning.
Should i seduce him?
"Oops, I forgot to wear pants" energy?
Pretend i had a nightmare?
Crawl into his bed like a damn cat?
I snorted.
What was wrong with me?
But the ideas weren't bad, per se...
Then i heard it.
Raphael knocking softly.
I sat up so fast I gave myself whiplash.
"Yeah?"
He cracked the door open.
"I'm heading out to buy groceries," he said.
I blinked.
"Oh."
Husband move.
Domestic as hell.
I swallowed, forcing my voice to be casual.
"Okay. Buy something good."
He nodded and left without another word.
I waited until the door closed.
Then fell back on the bed and screamed into my pillow.
In my head, of course, I was imagining:
Him in my kitchen.
Cooking.
Rolling up his sleeves.
Chopping vegetables with that surgeon precision.
Me sneaking behind him.
Wrapping my arms around his waist.
Resting my cheek on his back.
"Smells good," I whispered.
He turned slightly, smirking. "Told you ican cook."
I pouted. "Feed me."
He lifted a spoon to my lips.
I opened my mouth—
I snapped back to reality.
"PUTANGINA."
I was daydreaming like an idiot.
I buried my face in a pillow and screamed again.
Later, when he came back,
I watched from the couch as Raphael unpacked groceries with clinical precision.
He arranged everything in the fridge neatly, like he was prepping for surgery.
He washed the vegetables. Rolled up his sleeves.
Started chopping.
I just... stared.
What the hell.
My world was red carpets, flashing cameras, designer gowns.
And here i am watching my husband make sinigang.
"You're staring," he said without looking up.
I blinked. "I'm supervising."
He smirked. "Helpful."
I padded over, resting my elbows on the counter, chin on my hands.
"What are you cooking?"
"Sinigang."
My eyes lit up. "I love sinigang."
He snorted. "Good. Because you're eating it."
We sat at the small dining table, steam rising from our bowls.
I took a bite and moaned.
"Oh my God. This is good."
He raised an eyebrow. "Told you."
"You're sure you're a doctor? Not a chef?"
He smirked. "Multitalented."
I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway.
For a moment, it felt real.
Two people.
Eating dinner at home.
Talking about work, childhood stories, stupid gossip.
No cameras.
No screaming fans shipping me with my leading men.
No headlines.
Just us.
But of course.
Reality crashed back in when he stood up.
"I'm heading to bed."
I blinked.
"Which one?"
He gave me that look.
"Guest room."
I sighed dramatically.
"Fine."
But i didn't sleep.
Instead, I found myself outside his door, listening.
Hesitating.
I cracked it open.
He was lying there, eyes closed, breathing steady.
I stepped in, waving my hand in front of his face.
"What?" he mumbled.
I almost jumped.
"Nothing! Just checking!"
He cracked one eye open. "Checking what?"
I cleared my throat. "If you're sleeping."
He sighed.
"Go back to bed, Claudia."
"I will. I'm just... making sure you're okay."
He sighed again.
"You're staying, aren't you?"
I nodded.
He turned away.
"Fine."
I sat on the floor beside his bed, arms hugging my knees.
Minutes passed.
His breathing evened out.
He was out cold.
I shook my head.
Oh my God.
Was i really his sleeping pill?
What was this?
When i finally got up and tiptoed back to my room, I couldn't stop thinking.
This was supposed to be fake.
A marriage of convenience.
Something to hide from the world.
Because if anyone found out, my entire career would be under a microscope.
They'd dig. Speculate.
Try to ruin me.
Try to ruin us.
I couldn't let that happen.
But lying there in the dark, staring at my ceiling, I had to admit it.
No matter how careful i tried to be.
No matter how hard i fought it.
He was already getting under my skin.
And that was the most dangerous part of all.