Chapter 33 I Met His Dad
KARA’S POV
Monday arrives faster than I want it to. The city feels louder when I step out of my condo that morning, sharper, like it’s reminding me that breaks are temporary and life always resumes its pace. I dress carefully, choosing something professional but soft, like armor I’ve learned how to wear well. As I head to the office, my phone buzzes with a message from Dad.
Eat your breakfast, don’t rush, and call me later.
I smile to myself and text back.
Today isn’t just any workday, it’s the awarding ceremony. The lobby of Mr. Lu’s company is already buzzing when I arrive. Banners are up, flowers everywhere, and there’s an energy in the air that feels celebratory and nervous all at once. I spot Cathy near the reception desk, reviewing notes with two staff members, calm and confident as always.
She looks up and grins when she sees me. “Big day.”
“It is,” I say, returning the smile. “You ready?”
She exhales. “Honestly? I’m trying not to overthink.”
I laugh. “That makes one of us.”
As a newcomer and newly promoted Assistant Supervisor, I know people are watching me. I can feel it in the glances, the polite nods, the whispers that trail just behind me as I walk. Part of me anticipates my name being called later, and another part of me feels oddly detached from the idea. Because if I’m being honest, if anyone deserves it, it’s Cathy.
In just weeks since she was hired, clients started coming in steadily, then in waves. She isn’t an engineer like most of the team. She graduated with a BSBA (Bachelor of Science in Business Administration) major, and at first, some people underestimated her. But her way of talking, negotiating, reading people, and making them feel heard changed everything.
“She’s good,” one of the senior engineers mutters near me. “Really good.”
“I know,” I reply quietly.
The ceremony begins in the late afternoon, the hall filling with staff, partners, and familiar faces. Mr. Lu takes the stage first, his presence steady and warm as always.
“Today,” he says, smiling, “we celebrate hard work, dedication, and people who go beyond what is expected.”
Applause fills the room.
He pauses, then adds, “But today is also special for another reason.”
A gentle murmur spreads.
“My wife,” he continues, turning slightly as Mrs. Araneta Lu stands beside him, elegant and radiant, “is celebrating her 58th birthday and our 38th year together.”
The applause this time is louder and warmer. Mrs. Lu laughs softly and waving her hand.
“You’re embarrassing me,” she says into the mic.
Mr. Lu chuckles. “After thirty-eight years, I think I’ve earned that right.”
She looks at him with such affection that my chest tightens. “Thank you,” she says. “For growing with me. And thank you all for being part of our extended family.”
I clap along, smiling, thinking of Dad, of love that lasts not because it’s easy, but because it’s chosen every day. When the awarding portion begins, my palms grow damp despite myself.
“And now,” Mr. Lu announces, “for Best Employee of the Month.”
I glance at Cathy. She’s staring straight ahead, jaw set, and hands clasped tightly together.
“The recipient,” he continues, “is someone who proved that skill is not limited by titles or degrees, but by heart, dedication, and communication.”
My breath catches.
“Cathy Agnes Gomez.”
The room erupts.
Cathy freezes, then covers her mouth.
“What?” she whispers.
I nudge her. “Go.”
She walks to the stage in a daze, eyes glossy, and hands trembling as she accepts the plaque.
“I—” she laughs nervously. “I didn’t expect this.”
Mr. Lu smiles at her. “You earned it.”
She turns to us, voice shaking. “Thank you for trusting me.”
I clap until my hands hurt as pride swelling in my chest. And strangely, I feel no disappointment, only certainty. This is exactly how it should be and the night doesn’t end there. Dinner follows, long tables filled with food, laughter, and stories. Finnian arrives with his staff, commanding attention without trying, dressed sharply, greeting Mr. and Mrs. Lu with easy familiarity.
“Kara,” he says when he finds me, eyes soft. “You look good.”
“So do you,” I reply, smiling.
Games are played, raffles are drawn, cheers erupt when names are called, and groans when they aren’t.
“I never win these,” I complain as I clutches on my raffle ticket.
“Because you complain too much,” Finnian says dryly.
Mrs. Lu laughs as she hands out prizes herself. “Everyone’s a winner tonight,” she declares.
By the time dessert is served, I’m full, content, and quietly happy. I watch Mr. and Mrs. Lu laugh together, Cathy beaming as people congratulate her, ane Finnian talking with other business personality around him.
This is balance. Work, family, love, and moments that remind you why you endure the hard parts. As the night winds down, Finnian leans closer and murmurs.
“You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”
I look around once more before answering. “I know.”
And for the first time in a long while, the future doesn’t scare me. I promised to myseld that I'll work hard so I will be the one to receive the plaque of recognition next month.
The night stretches longer than I expect. Music softens into background noise, laughter turns looser, warmer, and somewhere between the second glass of wine and a half-finished cocktail I stop counting. There’s a gentle buzz in my head, not dizzy, just light, like my thoughts are floating a little above me. I’m leaning against the edge of the table, listening to Cathy animatedly retell how her knees almost gave out on stage, when I feel it.
A presence then warmth.
Finnian leans in close, close enough that I feel his breath brush the shell of my ear. His voice is low, unguarded, the way people sound when alcohol has softened the edges they usually keep sharp.
“Do you wanna go somewhere else with me?”
I turn my head slightly, surprised by how intimate it feels, by how suddenly the noise around us fades. His eyes are darker than earlier, relaxed, almost boyish in a way I don’t often see.
“You okay?” I ask.
He smiles, crooked and honest. “Yeah. Just… want you with me for a bit.”
I should think. I should ask where. I should weigh every sensible reason not to disappear with him in the middle of a company celebration.
Instead, I nod.
“Okay,” I say, and it feels like stepping off a ledge and trusting there’s ground beneath me.
We excuse ourselves quietly. No grand exit, no one stopping us. Just the two of us slipping into the night. The car ride is calm, the city lights streaking past the windows like distant memories. Finnian hums softly to the radio, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near mine, not touching, but close enough that I’m aware of it the entire time.
The farther we drive, the quieter it gets.
Buildings thin out, traffic disappears, and even the air feels different and heavier somehow. When he finally parks and turns off the engine, silence rushes in, thick and complete.
I look around when we step out.
Graves. Rows and rows of them.
Gravestones catch the soft glow of candles and small lights placed lovingly at their bases. Flowers rest everywhere, some fresh, some wilting, and all deliberate. It isn’t dark, not really, but it is still. A kind of stillness that presses against your chest and asks you to breathe carefully.
“Finnian,” I say softly, confusion threading through my voice. “What are we doing here?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for my hand. His fingers are warm and steady.
“Come,” he says gently.
We walk together between the paths, our footsteps quiet against the ground. The alcohol haze in my system fades with every step, replaced by something sharper, clearer. My heart starts to ache before I even understand why.
He stops in front of a black gravestone. A simple, polished, and an unassuming.
I read the name aloud without thinking.
“Filmore Matthew Stewheinz.”
Finnian exhales, slow and controlled.
“He’s my dad,” he says. Then, after a beat, “I want you to meet him.”
Something in his smile cracks me open. It isn’t sad exactly. It’s tender. Vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen on him before.
“Oh,” I whisper. “Finnian…”
He sits down on the ground in front of the grave like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I hesitate for half a second before following him, folding my legs beneath me, close but not touching.
For a moment, he just stares at the name.
“My father was…” He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “He was annoyingly wise. The kind of man who didn’t talk much, but when he did, everyone listened.”
I watch his profile, the way his jaw tightens as he speaks.
“He taught me how to read contracts before I was ten,” he continues. “Taught me that power means nothing if people don’t respect you. Not fear you. Respect you.”
I smile faintly. “Sounds like him.”
“He was,” Finnian says. “Good, too good sometimes. People trusted him, still do, actually even now.”
He gestures around vaguely.
“You wouldn’t believe how many people still visit him. Employees, old partners, and people I don’t even recognize.”
He swallows.
“When he died, everything got louder. Expectations, pressure, and the company. The name.” He lets out a breath. “I grew up fast after that.”
I want to reach for him, but I don’t. Instead, I let him speak.
“He used to bring me here,” Finnian adds quietly. “Said cemeteries remind you that time is real, that life isn’t endless, and that you should choose what matters before you run out of chances.”
I glance at the gravestone again, then back at Finnian.
“Thank you for bringing me,” I say softly. “For trusting me with this.”
He turns to look at me then, really look at me.
“I don’t bring people here,” he admits. “You’re the first.”
My chest warms.
“I’m glad,” I say, my voice barely more than a breath.
He smiles, eyes shining just a little, and for a second, the powerful businessman, the composed man and everyone knows, disappears. What’s left is just a son, a boy who loved his father, and a man who misses him. We sit there in silence after that, candles flickering, the city far away, and something between us settles quietly into place.
And I realize, with a steady certainty, that this moment matters, that he matters, and that whatever this is between us, it’s no longer something light or passing.