𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈: Rᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ PH Bᴏᴏᴋ {Cʜ}

📖 + 🌧️| To My Dear Unhappy Wife December 30th 1896 [Y/N]

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#13
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[M/La Liga x F/Y/N]
•To my dear unhappy wife December 30th 1896•
°Side story + angst°
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{Warning:}
-Cringe
-Errors
-Typos
-Short

{Note:}
-Yes, a Y/N story.

-Mostly narration.

-This was inspired by Jose Rizal's last letter to his one and only wife, Josephine Bracken.

-First time writing one. I usually skip (Character) x reader stories.
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"To my dear unhappy wife Y/N

December 30th 1896..."

A page from the book De La Imitacion de Cristo y Menosprecio del had a handwritten letter from a very devoted husband. It was protected in a case inside the national museum for Filipinos and foreigners to see.

However, their marriage was a debate. Wether if it was real or not. A lot debated that they weren't legitimately married. For the church and the government were almost one in the same and Rizal was a Mason which the friars condemned.

Some debated that they really did get married, while some were in between.

But to her, the truth is as clear as day.

Y/N stares at the case, fiddling with her golden ring. Sighing as she turns her back on the case and walks away. This is unfair. All of this should've been mine..

~ * A few decades ago * ~

La Liga sighs and caresses Y/N's cheeks. He kisses her forehead and apologized whole heatedly.

"I'm so sorry..."

Y/N smiled, "It's okay. I don't mind... We don't have to be married in order to live happily with each other."

La Liga chuckled and kisses Y/N's lips softly. "I'm glad..."

For a while, their marriage was blissful. Days filled with love and joy. But being the wife of a rebel is no easy task.

Although a great man, La Liga had a short temper. Lashing out at Y/N whenever he's stressed or when something doesn't go his way.

And, soon...it went too far...

"A-ah..."

Y/N stared at her legs as blood runs down then. A river of tears running down her cheek. Her first child...

"Giliw?" Y/N didn't move. She couldn't. She was paralyzed. Before she could process what was happening, La Liga had forced her into labour to give birth to what was supposed to be their first child. Luckily for Y/N, La Liga had knowledge about medicine and knew how to deliver the dead fetus without Y/N dying or getting an infection.

After three hours, Y/N woke up, she felt empty. But regardless, she got out of bed, stumbling and almost falling to the floor face first. For a moment she had almost forgotten how to walk.

When she got outside, she saw La Liga standing by a table with a sorrowful look. And on the table was what appeared to be a miniature sized casket.

Y/N gulped and slowly approached her lover. La Liga flinched at the sound of the bamboo floor creaking. He turns around, "Y/N....I-I'm sorry I-I didn't mean to.." Y/N didn't answer and went straight to the casket.

It was still open. Y/N's hand shook as she touched the unformed child. Sighing, Y/N turns her back to the casket and walks back to the bedroom.

La Liga didn't dare to chase after her. This was his fault. The last thing he wants is to make her hate him even more.

La Liga looks at his son one last time before covering the casket and nailing it shut.

For months, La Liga tried to make his wife happy again. Y/N appreciated his efforts, and even tried to smile for him. She forgives him, but deep down, they both know that it will never be the same...

Months passed, and La Liga got arrested for rebellion and sedition. They stand on opposite sides of the cell as the couple cried waterfalls. "Stupid. Stupid. You're such an idiot!!" Y/N sobbed.

La Liga laughs through his tears. He cups her cheeks and kisses the tip of her nose. "I love you..."

Y/N didn't spend time crying. She joined the Katipunan and worked for the revolution in her husband's honour before settling down in Cebu.

~ * Present * ~

Y/N sighs as she its down on her rocking chair, caressing a book gently in her arms as she watches the news.

"Historical book of national hero, La Liga Filipina, stolen from the national museum.."

Y/N chuckles and turns off the TV before standing up to check up on her pancit.

-End-

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[A/n: sorry if it was cringe and short. I'm trying to zoom past all of these chapters. There's just so many]

[Fun fact: did you know that Jose Rizal's favourite food was pancit?]