Chapter Seven

Restless, my palms were sweaty, and I kept adjusting my outfit nervously. I couldn't deny that I was feeling self-conscious. Deep down, I wanted Tyrone's family to like me.

"Stop it," Tyrone scolded me as I glanced at his side mirror again. Thankfully, Rye was skilled at doing makeup and lent me a cute, casual dress, transforming me into a more feminine version of myself.

"Well, Tyrone, I can't help it. I'm nervous," I confessed. I didn't want to tell him that he was also one of the reasons for my unease. He wore a simple gray V-neck shirt and pants, but he looked like a model.

"I'm here. They won't bite," Tyrone chuckled, teasing me about his family. They won't bite, he said. But I had a feeling they would. His father was fine, but his siblings were different, so proper and strict, especially towards Tyrone. I gulped and glanced at him, wondering how he managed

to survive living with siblings who disliked him. It must have been challenging, but he didn't want to show it.

"You're beautiful," he said with a smile, and it was as if I melted right then and there. His smile touched my heart deeply. I wasn't sure if we were okay now, but when he picked me up at home, we acted like nothing happened between us. It was like we hadn't fought at all.

As Tyrone led me into the mansion, my eyes widened with awe and admiration at the sheer grandeur of the place. The opulence was evident in every corner. Expensive, intricately carved furniture adorned the house, exuding an air of elegance and luxury. The soft glow of crystal chandeliers illuminated the room, adding to the majestic atmosphere. It felt as if I had stepped into a palace or an exclusive art gallery.

Every wall displayed a masterpiece, each painting telling a unique story. From classic portraits to abstract works, the art collection was vast and impressive. The colorful strokes and vivid details seemed to come alive, inviting me to get lost in their narratives. It was like standing in the midst of a living, breathing art exhibition.

The mansion exuded a sense of timelessness and sophistication, a reflection of the family's refined taste and affluent lifestyle. The whole ambiance was overwhelming yet captivating, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and unease as I took in the splendor around me.

Despite the stunning surroundings, I couldn't shake off the tension in my chest, knowing that Tyrone's family members were observing me closely. It was as if every piece of art on the wall represented a pair of eyes scrutinizing my every move. Nonetheless, I tried to maintain my composure, silently reminding myself to be genuine and confident.

Tyrone's home was a testament to his family's prosperity and being there only intensified my feelings of insecurity. I couldn't help but wonder if I belonged in such a world of privilege. Nonetheless, I was grateful for Tyrone's reassurance and support, his hand gently squeezing mine as if to remind me that I wasn't alone in this unfamiliar territory.

As the evening progressed, I immersed myself in conversations with Tyrone's family members, trying to charm them with my warm smile and genuine interest in their stories. It was both thrilling and nerve-wracking to interact with such accomplished and influential people. I hoped that I could make a good impression, despite my lack of social status or wealth.

The mansion's atmosphere was filled with both sophistication and tension, a delicate balance between warmth and judgment. But amidst the elegant surroundings, I couldn't help but long for a moment of solace. My heart yearned for a private moment with Tyrone, away from the watchful eyes and probing questions.

My footsteps faltered, and my breath caught in my throat as I beheld the scene before me. It was far from the intimate gathering I had anticipated; instead, it resembled a lavish party. The opulent mansion's grand halls were teeming with life, bustling with about 25 people or more of all ages, from young children to teenagers and adults. The air was filled with chatter and laughter, creating an atmosphere of celebration and joy.

My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to process the unexpected turn of events. I had mentally prepared myself for a quiet family gathering, but this extravagant affair was beyond anything I could have imagined. The spacious rooms, adorned with fine art and elegant decorations, seemed to come alive with the vibrant energy of the crowd.

As I stood there, a wave of self-consciousness washed over me. I felt like an outsider, a simple girl stepping into a world of luxury and extravagance. In my borrowed dress, I was acutely aware of the contrast between my modest background and the affluence that surrounded me.

Tyrone's family members were scattered throughout the room, engaged in animated conversation and laughter. They exuded an air of sophistication and confidence, making me feel even more like an intruder. I wondered if they would accept me, an ordinary girl with no grand lineage or prestigious connections.

Tyrone's presence beside me offered some comfort, his hand gently holding mine as if to reassure me that I belonged. His warm smile conveyed a sense of protection, a silent promise that he would be by my side throughout this overwhelming experience.

As I gazed around, my eyes met Tyrone's father, Mr. Alfred. He appeared both welcoming and imposing, a man of authority whose presence commanded respect. I felt a sudden rush of nervousness, knowing that this man held a significant place in Tyrone's life and would likely have expectations of his son's choice of company.

The room seemed to blur around me as I tried to maintain my composure. The vibrant paintings on the walls and the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses created a sensory overload. My hands trembled slightly, and I took a deep breath, reminding myself to be genuine and confident.

"Why?" Tyrone asked when he noticed that I halted.

"Well, you said it would be a small gathering, but it looks like the whole town is here," I quipped. Tyrone just chuckled.

"Well, for Daddy, this is small. It's just my siblings' families anyway," he explained.

"Really? How many are you?"

"Thirteen," he replied, guiding me inside. I couldn't help but notice the inquisitive stares some family members gave us. Some even stopped what they were doing just to scrutinize me, making me feel more self-conscious.

"Tyrone, Diane," Tyrone's dad greeted us warmly. "I was worried you wouldn't show up, hija."

"Daddy, come on. Diane feels shy," Tyrone defended me to his father.

"Oh, my bad. Feel at home, Diane," Tito Alfred said, introducing us to his other children, their spouses, and their children. I realized that Tyrone was the only single one among his siblings.

We proceeded to a long table where we all sat down.

"So, hija, what's your last name?" one of Tyrone's siblings asked. "Mendez, sir."

"What are the businesses of the Mendez family?" another sibling inquired.

"N-None," I stammered. I was very hungry, but my anxiety was making it difficult to eat.

"Really? What a shame!" a sibling commented.

"Joana!" Tito Alfred reprimanded them.

"So, if you don't have any business, where does your father work?" a sibling in a green shirt asked.

"My father passed away," I replied, trying not to show my sadness.

"And your mom?"

"She's a housewife" I answered.

"So, if you're saying that no one in your family works, who supports you?" a plump sister-in-law asked sarcastically.

"My aunts and uncles, but—"

"See, I told you guys, this girl is just after our money," she said, either whispering or intentionally loud enough for me to hear. As the hurtful words reached my ears, my heart sank like an anchor into an abyss of insecurity and pain. I felt exposed and vulnerable, judged by strangers who knew nothing about the struggles and sincerity that had brought me here. The woman's accusation that I was merely after their wealth cut deep, leaving a wound that seemed impossible to heal. The weight of their judgment bore down on me, suffocating any sense of belonging or acceptance I had hoped to find.

Yet, as my heart cried out for escape, I found solace in Tyrone's grip on my hand. His touch was a lifeline, a reminder that he believed in us and that his heart saw beyond the superficial assumptions of his family. His face was devoid of emotion, but I knew better; I knew he cared deeply.

At that moment, I made a choice to endure the pain and stay by his side. Tyrone's presence was worth any amount of discomfort, and I refused to let their shallow opinions define our relationship. We had faced challenges before, and I was determined not to let the judgmental whispers unravel the bond we shared.

I couldn't help but empathize with Tyrone, realizing how he must have felt living in such an environment. It was evident that he stood apart from his family, embodying qualities that set him on a different path. His humility and genuine nature were in stark contrast to their arrogance and materialistic attitudes.

Tyrone's decision to bring me to their former house felt intentional. Perhaps he wanted to remind himself of the life he had once known, one that didn't revolve around opulence and judgment. His gesture was an invitation for me to witness a glimpse of his authentic self, away from the facade of grandeur that his family displayed.

As his brother's words hung in the air, I saw Tyrone's discomfort and frustration. He didn't fit into their mold, nor did he conform to their expectations. His refusal to date a girl with a "great business" spoke volumes about his values, as if he sought a deeper connection that went beyond mere material wealth.

The glares directed at me intensified, and I felt like an intruder, a trespasser in their world. I was merely a humble girl who had come from a different background, trying my best to navigate the complexities of this unfamiliar territory. Yet, their quick judgment painted me as a gold digger, a parasite that threatened their established way of life.

But amidst the turmoil, I held onto my resilience, drawing strength from Tyrone's unwavering presence. His support was an anchor that kept me from drifting away, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of their scorn. I knew that their perception of me was narrow-minded, that they had no idea about my struggles or my sincerity towards Tyrone.

It was easy to let their harsh words define me, to believe that their judgment held some truth. Yet, in Tyrone's eyes, I found affirmation that their accusations were far from the truth. His stoic expression masked a quiet belief in me, in the authenticity of our connection.

As the night wore on, I remained composed, refusing to allow their contempt to break me.

"You're just a bastard child, Ty, and to have a place in society, you need power," the brother with long hair said in a soft tone. He was probably in his mid-30s.

My heart raced, and I felt a mix of anger and sadness swirling inside me as I witnessed the cruelty Tyrone endured from his own family. They spoke those hurtful words as if they held no consequences, ignorant of the pain they inflicted upon him. My grip on Tyrone's hand tightened in response, silently assuring him that I was there to support him through this ordeal.

Joel, the long-haired brother in his mid-30s, continued his relentless onslaught, emphasizing the importance of power and social status for Tyrone to secure a place in society. I couldn't believe they were discussing this so callously in front of him, seemingly oblivious to the emotions churning within him. Tyrone's hand squeezed mine tighter, and I could feel his pain radiating through the firmness of his grip.

Their words cut deep, like sharp daggers piercing our chests, causing us both to flinch inwardly. Elise, another family member, joined in, launching a scathing attack on Tyrone's background and his connection with me. The venom in her words stung, and the injustice of their judgments infuriated me.

"What can you expect, Joel? His bloodline comes from squatters. A low-class breed. Of course, they would look for someone like them. Just like his mother, who was nothing but a flirt and a gold digger." Her words felt like daggers piercing our chests, causing pain and anguish.

"Elise," Mark, Tyrone's older brother, reprimanded. His older brother Mark stood out as a beacon of kindness. Despite his efforts to remain supportive, I could sense the internal struggle he faced, torn between his loyalty to his siblings and his half-brother Tyrone. Mark's eyes held a mix of empathy and conflict, as if he wanted to protect Tyrone from their family's judgment, but he also understood the complexities of their situation. It was evident that he wanted to bridge the gap, but the tension within the family was too overwhelming.

"What? It's true. Would any decent woman get involved with a man who already has a child and has the audacity to be just a mere household helper? A freeloader! Ha! A flirt!" Elise continued, her words cutting deep.

"Elise, stop it!!"

"That's enough," I stood up. To my surprise, Tito Alfred, Tyrone's father, stood up with me. I had almost forgotten he was there. Everyone at the table fell silent, their attention now on us.

"See? They have no manners at all," Elise, the harshest among them, presented a facade of sophistication with her stunning beauty, but her attitude betrayed an entirely different side of her. Her striking features could easily capture attention, but it was her harsh and judgmental demeanor that left a lasting impact. As she stood there, she exuded an aura of arrogance and superiority, looking down upon Tyrone and me as if we were unworthy of being in her presence.

Her words cut like a sharp knife, piercing through our hearts, leaving us wounded by her cruel remarks. The elegance that adorned her appearance clashed harshly with the venom in her voice, creating a stark contrast that emphasized the ugliness of her character. It was evident that she reveled in causing pain and humiliation, relishing the opportunity to belittle and degrade others.

Despite her outer beauty, Elise's inner ugliness was far more profound. The way she dismissed Tyrone's worth based on his background and labeled me as a "gold digger" without knowing anything about me showcased her lack of empathy and compassion. She seemed oblivious to the fact that wealth and social status did not define one's true value as a human being. Tyrone pulled me closer to him, seeking comfort in my presence.

"Let's go," he said with resignation in his voice, and I could feel that he just gave up. I nodded at him, agreeing that it would be best for us to go.

As we left, I overheard hushed murmurs, most of them casting spiteful words towards Tyrone.

"He is just like his mother and a good-for-nothing woman," someone said who I have not seen who.

Tyrone came to a halt, turning back to face his family. His words were filled with palpable intensity as he stood up for his mother and me. Each syllable he spoke carried a weight of pain and frustration that had been building up for years.

"DON'T. YOU. DARE. INCLUDE. MOM. IN. THIS." His voice was forceful, almost shaking with emotion. "You never even showed Diane the slightest bit of respect. Yes, I am the illegitimate child, and I know that very well. You've made sure of that from the very beginning. But did any of you ever bother to listen to me? No, you didn't. You'd rather see me gone. This is all about money, isn't it? So, who's the real gold digger here? You, Diane, or mom? It's all yours then! I don't need it. I'm so done here, dad, Kuya Mark. I'm sorry, but I'm leaving!"

As we started to leave, I overheard whispers and hushed murmurs filled with disdain and contempt for Tyrone. My heart ached for him, and I wanted to comfort him, but his pace was quick, and I struggled to keep up. He led me to a secluded park within the subdivision, and there, he finally let out his frustrations.

"AHH!!" He let out a primal scream, releasing all his pent-up emotions. It felt like my heart was being squeezed as I witnessed his vulnerability. I had never seen him like this before. Tyrone didn't deserve any of this; he wasn't to blame for his parents' actions. It was unfair and cruel that he had to carry the weight of their judgment and scorn.

Tyrone slowly regained his composure, his shoulders heaving with each breath. I approached him cautiously, wanting to be there for him but unsure of what to say. At that moment, words felt inadequate to soothe the wounds inflicted by his own family. I gently placed a hand on his back, offering silent support and understanding.

He turned to look at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and gratitude. Despite the hurt he endured, he managed to find strength amid his vulnerability. It was a testament to his resilience and the depth of his character.

I whispered, "You're not alone, Tyrone. I'm here for you. We'll get through this together." He nodded, and for a moment, it felt like the weight on his shoulders had slightly lifted.

In that park, surrounded by the quiet serenity, I realized that Tyrone was more than the judgments thrown at him. He was a person deserving of love and understanding, just like anyone else. As we stood there, I vowed to stand by his side, supporting him as he confronted the shadows of his past and forged his path forward with strength and determination.