I was sprawled on the couch, still in my interview clothes, too tired to even move.
Today was insane.
Three back-to-back TV interviews, two radio guestings, one live social media Q&A.
All because our movie with Dustin Wang smashed ₱300 million on opening day.
Every single question was about us.
"What's your secret chemistry?"
"Any real-life romance?"
"Why do fans think you're perfect for each other?"
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to say we can't even stand each other off-camera.
But of course, I smiled. I laughed. I played the game.
And now here i was exhausted, my phone buzzing non-stop with mentions, edits, articles.
Claudia Araneta: The Reigning Queen of the Box Office.
Claudia Araneta Spotted at Charity Auction in Disguise. Angel for Sick Kids.
I closed my eyes.
God.
They found out.
Even though i'd covered my hair with a scarf, hid in a corner, tried to be anonymous.
Paparazzi photos had leaked online.
I'd seen the threads.
"Wow, she's so humble! Look at her bidding secretly!"
"Oh wow, what an angel! She's really really kind"
My stomach twisted.
I hadn't even planned it.
I just… couldn't stand the thought of Kourtney there, making it look like she was the sole savior of those kids.
I had to help.
But no one would believe that now.
I heard the door open.
My heart stuttered.
Raphael.
I stayed slumped on the couch, pretending to be asleep.
He didn't say anything.
Just walked past me, quietly, into the bedroom.
No greeting.
No
"You're home late."
Nothing.
My chest hurt.
I reached for my phone and scrolled through the new articles.
Claudia's charity move goes viral!
PR stunt? Or genuine heart?
And there it was, one shot of me holding the million-peso check, scarf slipping just enough to show my face.
Clear as day.
They'd cropped out Liam, the sick kid who'd cried when he asked me to keep his painting.
I felt tears prick my eyes.
God, I hated this.
I forced myself to get up and wash my face.
In the mirror, I looked like shit.
Smudged eyeliner. Puffy eyes.
So much for "box-office angel."
I splashed water on my face, gripping the sink.
Breathe.
Breathe.
When i finally walked to the sala, Raphael was sitting on the edge, scrolling on his phone.
His eyes flicked up.
And i knew.
I knew he'd seen the photos.
His expression was unreadable.
No anger.
But no warmth, either.
Just… flat.
I opened my mouth.
Closed it again.
What was i even going to say?
"It wasn't for promo?"
He'd never believe that.
Not after everything.
Not when every headline was shouting about Dustin and me breaking records while i played charity savior at his hospital.
I swallowed hard.
"Raphael," I finally whispered.
He didn't look at me.
Just set his phone down and lay back on the bed, turning away.
My throat burned.
I stood there for a moment, fists clenched at my sides, fighting back tears.
Then i turned the lights off and walked quietly out.
I didn't go back to the couch.
I couldn't sleep there.
Instead I went to the balcony and sat on the cold tiles, knees pulled to my chest.
I pressed my face into my arms.
God, it wasn't supposed to go like this.
I didn't want anyone to know.
I just wanted to help.
Now everyone thought it was PR.
He thought it was PR.
—
I immersed myself in work, pouring my energy into rehearsing lines, reviewing scripts, watching playback from my scenes. I repeated every emotional cue until it felt right—even if I was alone in my dressing room, lips dry from too many takes.
After hours of practice, I felt ready enough to film tomorrow's big confrontation scene. I called Vanessa over to run lines with me.
She read them out, wide-eyed. "Wow, Miss Claudia, you're going to kill it. They'll eat this up when the episode airs."
I gave her a small, tired smile. "Good. Just make sure my schedule is cleared tomorrow afternoon for press."
When i checked my watch, it was already 9 PM. I sighed, massaging my sore temples.
"Alright. I'm heading home."
—
As soon as i walked in, I saw Raphael sitting in the living room, waiting for me.
He stood up the moment he saw me. "I'm sorry. I overreacted," he said quietly. "Thanks for helping the kids."
I felt a pang in my chest. I wasn't angry, I was just... hurt. But hearing him say sorry, it did something to me.
I forced a small smile. "It's fine," I said, then walked straight to my room.
But the truth was, my heart was racing.
Damn.
I barely had the energy to change. My head was pounding, and my body felt unbearably heavy. I checked my temperature. 38°C.
No wonder i felt like i was about to collapse.
I ignored Raphael's knock when he called,
"Let's have dinner before you sleep."
I couldn't even answer. My body sank into the bed as i struggled to keep my eyes open.
Moments later, the door creaked open.
I felt a warm hand on my forehead. "Shit, you have a fever," Raphael muttered, his voice laced with concern.
I barely registered what was happening as he moved quickly, adjusting my pillows, covering me with a blanket, and leaving the room.
When he returned, he had a damp towel in his hands. "This will help," he murmured, placing it on my forehead.
I felt his fingers gently brush my hair away from my face. "You should've told me you weren't feeling well," he sighed.
I tried to say something, but my throat was dry.
"Just rest, okay?" His voice was softer now.
I felt him beside me, making sure i was comfortable, occasionally checking my temperature, whispering small reassurances.
Somewhere between his presence and the warmth of the blanket, exhaustion finally took over, and I drifted into sleep.
—
I woke up feeling better, though the dull ache in my head still lingered. I forced myself up and stepped out of my room, rubbing my temples.
I walked into the dining area and saw Raphael, his back turned as he busied himself in the kitchen.
"Thanks for taking care of me," I said softly, pulling out a chair at the table.
He glanced at me briefly before continuing to plate the food. "Don't mention it. That's my duty," he replied casually. "I called your assistant and told her you're sick. You need to stay home today."
I sighed dramatically. "Yes, doc." Then I hesitated. "Are you going to work?"
He nodded. "I have to."
Something in me sank. I thought maybe, just maybe, he'd stay home, knowing i was sick.
But of course, work came first.
We ate in comfortable silence until he mentioned something that made my ears perk up.
"I'll be late tonight. We have a reunion with my high school classmates."
I simply nodded in response. "Just let me know if you need anything."
"Okay," he said before standing up.
After breakfast, he left for work, and i returned to my room. But an idea struck me.
I should do something for him.
I grabbed my phone and texted
Vanessa. "Check the address of Raphael's reunion. I need to know where it is."
I believe that even if I don't say it out loud, Vanessa knows there's something between me and Raphael.
But of course, she has no idea we're actually married.
Minutes later, she sent me the address, and I nearly laughed. One of the trendiest restaurants in town?
Perfect. They'll never see it coming.
I called the restaurant manager, voice calm but firm. "Take good care of them. I want Raphael's group to have everything on the house. Make sure they think he's the one treating them."
All i had to do now was wait.
—
I couldn't sit still while waiting, so i started tidying the place. It was already spotless, Raphael was practically obsessive about it, but i still found things to fix.
I rearranged flowers in a vase. Straightened the magazines on the coffee table.
But then i noticed something.
My scripts.
They weren't where i left them.
Panic surged.
Did he see them?
God.
Did he read the notes i scribbled in the margins? My nervous questions about playing "a good wife"?
I felt heat crawl up my neck.
I started pacing, biting my nail, when my phone rang.
"Ma'am, they've arrived. We're assisting them to the VIP section."
I heard someone in the background protesting.
"We didn't book VIP."
The manager was calm. "It's fine. Someone already did."
I heard the murmur of surprised delight.
I smirked. Perfect.
"Keep the call open. I want to listen in," I instructed, settling onto the couch.
As i listened in, my fingers curled into fists.
"So, Raphael's just a doctor?" someone sneered.
"No business? No endorsements? No side hustle?"
A woman laughed. "How can he even afford to treat us? He's not even famous."
I grit my teeth.
Enough.
I grabbed my phone and gave one final instruction.
"Serve them all the most expensive food and wine. And make sure you tell them that Raphael is the one who paid everything"
I could hear the confusion ripple through Raphael's so-called friends.
"Covered? By who?"
The manager didn't even hesitate. "By Dr. Raphael himself."
Silence.
Then a nervous laugh. "What? He paid for this?"
"It's all taken care of," the manager said smoothly. "Please, enjoy your evening."
They couldn't hide it, the stunned, embarrassed hush that settled over the group.
I smirked as i sat back on the couch, listening.
"Shit," one of them finally muttered. "He really went all out?"
"He didn't have to," another voice sounded smaller now, uncomfortable.
I ended the call before i could hear any more.
My fingers curled into a fist on my lap.
They didn't deserve it.
Those people who mocked him, questioned his future, belittled his work as a doctor, they got to sit there and toast to expensive wine on his dime.
My blood boiled.
Who the hell did they think they were?
He didn't need a flashy business or billions in the bank. He saved lives. That should've been enough.
Before i could let my anger run too wild, the front door opened.
Raphael stepped in, looking drained.
He didn't say a word. Just walked straight to me and wrapped his arms around me.
I froze at first, surprised. Then i slowly let myself sink into the embrace.
No words. No explanations. Just him.
I swallowed. "Are you okay?"
He let out a tired breath against my shoulder. "Yeah. Just exhausted."
I hesitated. "Do you want to eat?"
He shook his head. "I'm full. I just want to sleep. Can you... help me sleep first?"
My chest ached. I nodded.
I led him to his room. He lay down without a fuss, closing his eyes almost immediately.
I sat beside him, quietly watching as his breathing evened out.
His face looked so tired up close.
And something inside me cracked.
My eyes burned with tears.
I wasn't sure what hurt more, seeing how worn out he was, or realizing how much i actually cared.
He let out a small sound, almost like he heard me in a dream, too tired to respond.
I brushed the hair from his forehead gently. "I hate them," I whispered. "They don't know how amazing you are."
I stayed there a while longer, memorizing the rise and fall of his chest.
When i was sure he was asleep, I slowly got up and went to my own room.
I sat on the edge of my bed, fingers curling around my phone.
Part of me wanted to make sure those arrogant idiots never forgot tonight.
But i paused.
Raphael wouldn't want that.
He wouldn't want revenge.
He wouldn't even think about it.
I sighed and set the phone aside.
Instead, I picked up the script on my nightstand, trying to lose myself in the words.
But my mind wouldn't settle.
I read until the lines blurred, until sleep finally dragged me under.
And in my dreams, he was there again, just out of reach, watching me with eyes I couldn't quite read.