"Sometimes, the hardest person to forgive is the one who's finally trying to make things right."
*****
(Brianna's POV)
I used to believe that every human being was capable of change—
that everyone who once broke something precious could one day learn how to fix it.
At least… until the same man who broke me stood at the edge of my world again, asking to rebuild it.
Brayden.
The moment I saw him again, that belief crumbled like dust in my hands.
I don't even know why—it just did.
Trusting Brayden felt like asking my heart to walk through fire all over again.
Logically, I knew people could change.
But when it came to him, logic and pain never mixed.
They clashed like oil and water—unable to become one.
When he said he wanted to volunteer at the orphanage,
I almost laughed.
I thought it was just guilt, wrapped in pretty words.
But then… he came.
With his sleeves rolled up, boxes in his hands, and that quiet determination in his eyes—
as if he truly meant what he said.
And when Ella ran toward him, laughing as if the world had no scars,
something deep inside me trembled.
A warmth, yes. But also… an ache I couldn't name.
It spread through me like sunlight on old wounds—gentle, but stinging.
I watched them laughing together—making paper flowers with the other kids.
That sight should've made me happy.
Instead, it broke me a little more.
Because Ella still didn't know who he really was.
And I still didn't have the courage to tell her.
Yet seeing the two of them together
made me realize something cruel:
maybe God was testing how far my heart could endure.
When the activity ended and Brayden spoke to me,
I said something that might've sounded cold.
But it was the truth.
The pain he left behind hadn't healed completely—
and because of that, trusting him still felt impossible.
Still… a small part of me wanted to see how far he'd go.
Would his words fade like the past,
or would he fight for honesty like he claimed?
I didn't know.
But I wanted to find out—
whether Brayden Roderigo would stand tall like a man seeking redemption,
or walk away again like the coward he once was.
*****
The next morning, I arrived at the orphanage by eight.
The quiet hum of my office filled the air as I checked the foundation's financial reports.
The soft tapping of the keyboard was the only sound keeping me company,
and for a moment, it almost drowned out the noise in my head.
It was always like this—routine had become my shield.
Spreadsheets and signatures, numbers and deadlines.
They couldn't betray you like people could.
They couldn't lie.
They couldn't leave.
But behind that calm surface, my thoughts kept slipping back to him—
the way his eyes softened whenever he spoke to the children,
the way his voice carried a warmth I thought he'd long forgotten.
It was infuriating… and confusing.
Because, deep down, I wanted to believe that warmth was real.
Time slipped away unnoticed until I finally leaned back and glanced at the clock.
Ten o'clock.
By the time I looked up, the numbers on the screen had started to blur.
Maybe fresh air would help.
Outside, sunlight spilled across the corridor—warm, alive, and nothing like the cold calm I'd wrapped myself in all morning.
The corridor smelled faintly of sunlight and clean soap,
the kind of scent that always reminded me of safety.
Children's laughter echoed faintly from outside—pure, untainted joy.
That sound could melt even the hardest heart.
And for a fleeting second, I let myself breathe in the simplicity of it—
the kind of peace I hadn't felt in years.
As I walked through the long corridor, the sound of laughter guided me toward the garden.
Then I saw her—
a little girl had fallen on the grass.
Instinctively, I took a step forward.
But before I could reach her, someone else did.
Brayden.
He knelt down and gently lifted the child into his arms—Sofia.
A four-year-old battling leukemia,
and one of the most sensitive children in the foundation.
Usually, even the smallest scrape would send her into tears.
I doubted Brayden could handle that.
But within seconds, I was proven wrong.
He made a silly face, pretending to act hurt himself—
and Sofia burst into giggles.
The other kids who gathered around laughed too,
and just like that, the entire garden bloomed with joy.
The sound of their laughter tangled with the rustling leaves,
and for once, it didn't hurt to listen.
I stood there quietly, watching.
And for a moment, something in me softened.
This wasn't the Brayden I used to know.
The man who once hated being around children
was now the one who could make them laugh the loudest.
The sunlight hit his hair in golden streaks,
dust motes swirling around him like memories that refused to settle.
His sleeves were slightly rolled up, his shirt stained with grass and paint.
He didn't seem to care.
And maybe that's what struck me the most—
he wasn't pretending. Not this time.
And that realization… confused me.
Because the more I watched,
the more I saw glimpses of the boy I once believed in—
buried beneath years of silence and pride.
How could I trust the sincerity of a man
who once shattered my heart so effortlessly?
Was this real,
or just another act to ease his guilt?
Before I could find an answer,
a gentle tap on my shoulder made me turn.
"Mrs. Brianna," said Ghia, one of the staff members.
"The doctor who's going to check on Sofia has arrived. She's waiting in the examination room."
"Oh—thank you, Ghia."
I'd almost forgotten Sofia's check-up was today.
And getting her there was usually… a battlefield.
"Please stay with the doctor for now," I told her.
"I'll bring Sofia over."
"Of course, Mrs. Brianna."
After she left, I turned my gaze back to the garden.
Brayden was still sitting with Sofia, who now looked happier than ever.
Something about that image—his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, the sunlight framing them both—
felt painfully human. Almost… tender.
I took a deep breath and began walking toward them—
my heart thudding faster with every step.
For the first time in years, I didn't know whether to step closer… or step away.
"Good morning, everyone," I greeted softly when I reached them.
They all looked up, including Brayden.
His gaze locked on mine—intense, unreadable.
I tried not to look away.
"Mommy!" some of the children chirped, rushing to me.
I smiled, patting their heads one by one, before turning to Sofia.
"Sofia, sweetheart," I said gently.
"Doctor Olivia's here. She said she wants to play with you today."
Her smile vanished.
Her little fingers twisted the hem of her shirt.
I knew that look—she thought play meant injection.
Brayden crouched beside her.
"What's wrong, Sofia? Why the sad face?"
Tears welled up in her eyes.
Before I could reach her, Brayden did—
pulling her into a warm, protective hug.
"My pretty Sofia," he murmured softly,
"Doctor Olivia just wants to make you laugh, not hurt you. Isn't that a good thing?"
Sofia shook her head, sniffling.
"No! She's going to give me a shot!"
Brayden chuckled lightly, brushing her hair aside.
"Well, if she tries, just tell me, okay? I'll scold her for you."
That made Sofia pause.
Her tears stopped, and her eyes blinked up at him in surprise.
"You'll come with me?" she asked.
"Of course," he said with a smile that could melt anyone's walls.
"I'm not going to let you face her alone."
"Okay then," she whispered, clutching his hand.
"If you're coming, she won't dare do anything."
I blinked, taken aback.
Just like that—he calmed her down?
It usually took me hours to get her to cooperate.
Brayden stood, helping Sofia down from the bench.
Then his eyes found mine again—
and he smiled.
Not arrogantly. Not mockingly.
But with a quiet confidence that said,
See? I'm not who you thought I was.
And for a heartbeat, I believed him.
Before I could even process it,
we were about to head toward the examination room
when a familiar voice made us both freeze.
"Mommy! Uncle Ray!"
Ella's voice.
She was running toward us in her school uniform,
her laughter echoing through the air.
Behind her walked someone I didn't expect to see.
Arthur.
He carried Ella's bag, walking at a casual pace with that easy smile of his.
And for reasons I couldn't explain,
my eyes instinctively turned to Brayden.
His expression had changed completely.
Gone was the gentle smile.
His jaw tightened, his gaze cold and sharp—
and beneath it all, there was something else.
Something flickered in his eyes—
a quiet storm, unspoken but unmistakable.
The kind that once burned everything between us.
Jealousy.
I could see it. Feel it.
The air shifted, thick with the echo of something neither of us dared name.
Maybe he didn't even realize it himself.
But in that moment, I did.
Because this was no longer just about forgiveness.
It was about something deeper, something dangerous.
Something that refused to die.
When the past walks back into the same room,
the heart doesn't just remember the pain—
it remembers how to beat again.