I didn't sleep the night before.
Even with Lorenzo holding me in his arms like I was the only person left in the world.
Even with Celestine curled up against my belly, her little breaths soft and steady.
Even with the stars outside our window familiar, finally — not mocking me anymore.
I still didn't sleep.
Because this wasn't just a wedding.
This was every wound i refused to clean. Every day i pretended not to care.
Every night i told myself i didn't need anyone.
This wasn't just vows and white dresses and flowers and photos.
This was me… finally forgiving myself for leaving.
For hiding.
For breaking everything we could've been.
And maybe… finally allowing myself to believe that i could be loved — fully, loudly, forever.
I let out a quiet exhale as the makeup artist fixed a loose curl near my cheekbone.
My lips were already painted soft rose, my lashes long.
My white silk robe fluttered slightly at my knees, and on the velvet chair beside me sat my veil, cathedral length, sheer and laced with delicate embroidery of lilies and gardenias.
I could hear Celestine giggling on the couch with one of my bridesmaids.
She wore a mini version of my gown, a tiara she kept adjusting every ten seconds.
She didn't know what weddings were, but she knew she was happy.
"Mama, pretty!" she said again, clapping her tiny hands.
I smiled, hand unconsciously resting on the small bump on my belly.
Another heartbeat.
Another promise.
Just as the team started to finish the last touches, a soft knock came from the door.
One of the artists walked over to open it, and then stilled.
"Doc Raphael," she whispered, eyes wide. "Um…"
"Can i have a moment with my daughter?"
My father's voice.
The room fell silent.
They all exchanged glances.
One by one, the glam team began packing their tools, retreating quietly without being told twice.
Celestine was ushered out gently by one of the coordinators.
I didn't say anything.
I couldn't.
Because when my father stepped inside, I saw something in his eyes i had never seen before.
Not during my teen years.
Not during my college graduation.
Not even when i finally won first trophy in Horseback riding.
Regret.
Not the passive kind.
Not the i wish i did better kind. No.
The i know i failed you kind.
He stood there in his tailored barong, but his shoulders were trembling.
I didn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
"I didn't know," he began, voice rough. "I didn't know you held so much pain."
He took a slow step toward me.
"All those years… all the dinners you missed with us, the events you skipped, the distance we felt... I thought it was just you growing up. I didn't realize it was you slowly pulling away."
I stayed silent.
My eyes were burning.
He exhaled sharply, rubbed his face like he was trying to keep himself together.
"Your mom and I— we spent so much time on the business, the foundation, the travels. You thought we were there for Sebi's concerts, didn't you?"
I nodded, almost afraid of where this was going.
"We weren't."
He choked.
"We were… at meetings. Fundraisers. We just happened to be in the same cities, Atasha. It was never about watching him. It was always about... business. And you, you were right there. And i never even looked."
Tears fell down my cheeks silently.
He stepped closer.
"I failed you. I wasn't your father when you needed one. And now you're… a mother. You're building a family with the same hands i let go of."
He lowered himself, kneeling in front of me.
"I can't go back and fix everything. But i promise, I will show up now. For your babies. For Celestine. For the one inside you. I may have failed as a father, but i won't fail as a grandfather."
I didn't realize i was sobbing until he reached up and wiped my tears.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again. "I am so, so sorry."
And in that moment, something cracked in me.
Not from pain.
But from finally being seen.
I bent forward and hugged him tightly, like a child again and i felt his body tremble against mine.
"I just needed you to say that," I whispered.
He nodded against my shoulder. "I know."
Then the door creaked open again.
And this time, it was her.
Claudia.
My mother.
She walked in slowly, her own eyes glistening.
"I heard everything," she said softly, standing beside us.
"I'm sorry too," she whispered. "For being so focused on saving the world… I didn't realize i was losing my daughter."
She knelt beside my dad, placed a hand on mine.
"No mother wants her child to go through what she went through. But somehow, you still did and you survived it better than i ever did."
I covered my mouth with my hand, crying again — this time, not from hurt.
But from healing.
From all the things i didn't even know i needed to hear.
From finally having a family… who chose to stay.