The Runaway Mrs Dela Merced ( English )

Chapter- 2 Not Ready

“That’s not the road to our house! You’re going the wrong way!” I snap at him, irritation clawing up my throat as the car keeps going down a familiar route.

Four years may have passed since I left San Miguel, but I still remember every street. Every turn. This is the town where I grew up. Where I first fell in love… and where I was first broken by the man sitting beside me now.

“Don’t you want to talk to your dad first?” he asks, his eyes fixed on the road. He doesn’t even spare me a glance.

“Yes. So where are we going?” I ask irritably, raising an eyebrow.

“Your dad is at VincElla Hotel. That’s where we’re going,” he replies, serious, turning the car toward a gate that feels all too familiar.

The VincElla Hotel. The hotel owned by my parents… and his. The hotel he named after us Vincent and Ella even before we got married.

Memories hit me like a tidal wave the second I see the wide garden. My chest tightens. Tears blur my vision.

Everything happened here. This is where I got married. And this is where I was shattered on the very same day. Because of Vincent. The only man my young heart ever loved. The only man who ever caused me this much pain.

I don’t even realize tears are already falling.

“We’re here,” Vincent says firmly, his voice pulling me back to the present.

I quickly wipe my tears and turn away, hiding my face just as the car door opens. A hotel staff member stands there, clearly caught off guard when he sees me crying.

“Welcome to VincElla Hotel,” he greets awkwardly.

I force a small smile and step out of the car, walking ahead of Vincent.

The moment I step inside the lobby, I freeze. My entire body trembles. It feels like I’m being dragged back into the past—like I’m watching everything happen all over again.

Even in my nightmares, I never wanted to see that day again. Especially not the man who caused all my pain.

Tears slip down my cheeks despite my effort to hold them back. I take a step backward. I feel weak. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to face the things I ran away from. Not yet. Not like this.

I turn and suddenly bump into a solid chest behind me. Strong arms instinctively steady me. I clutch onto him without thinking, my body trembling as I try to breathe. Once. Twice. Three times.

Only then do I slowly look up.

And my heart drops.

Vincent.

I pull away immediately, as if burned. I step back, avoiding his gaze. Because I know if he sees my eyes, he’ll see everything. The tears. The pain. The truth. And I refuse to let him know he still affects me.

I’m not weak. I can’t be weak. Not in front of my husband.

Hadn’t I told myself so many times that I was ready to face him? That I was strong now?

So why do I feel this way? Why do I still feel like I’m breaking?

“Are you okay?” Vincent asks.

And for a second, I see concern in his eyes. My chest tightens. Is he worried about me? How can he be? Wasn’t he the one who cursed me back then? The one who hated me?

And now he looks at me like that?

“I’m good,” I answer shortly, looking away.

Before he can say anything else, I turn and rush toward the elevator. I need to get away from him. Fast.

I hear people greeting Vincent as he enters the staff, most likely. Right. Grandma told me Vincent already took over his father’s position. Both our fathers started new businesses, leaving the hotel under his management.

So that’s why Dad forced me to come back. The hotel. That must be part of it. Maybe he wants me to handle it now.

But no. I have no plans of staying in San Miguel. Not now. Not ever. This town witnessed all my pain.

The elevator doors are about to close when a hand stops them. Vincent steps inside.

Of course, he followed me.

Now it’s just the two of us. The space suddenly feels too small. Too tight. Too suffocating.

I try to stay quiet, but I know he can hear my soft, broken breaths. I press my hand against my chest, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat the same way it used to react whenever he was near.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, glancing at me.

That look again. That concern. But I know better. I know those beautiful eyes can lie. He doesn’t care. He never did.

“I’m okay!” I snap, my voice echoing inside the elevator. “I’m okay! I’m okay!” I repeat, louder this time.

Because I’m not. Because I’m angry at him and at myself. Because after four years, I still can’t face him.

No matter how many times I told myself I was stronger now, that I wasn’t the same weak, crying Ella anymore.

I was wrong. Because on the very first day I saw him again, I almost collapsed from the pain.

Michael Vincent Dela Merced. The only man I ever loved. The only man who broke me completely.

And now I know the truth.

I was never ready to come back. Not to this place. Not to where everything fell apart.