For nearly six months, life inside the Senate had settled into a familiar rhythm.
Committee hearings came and went. Bills were filed, debated, amended, and sometimes forgotten. Privilege speeches punctuated plenary sessions, while senators hurried from one committee room to another, juggling meetings with government agencies, local chief executives, and stakeholders. The hallways remained busy, but no busier than usual.
It was the kind of organized chaos everyone inside the institution had grown accustomed to.
Even the whispers surrounding Senators Sherwin Gatchalian and Risa Hontiveros eventually faded into the background. The Senate staff had found newer things to gossip about. New bills. New appointments. New romances involving people who weren't senators.
Almost overnight, every television mounted inside the Senate began carrying the same breaking news.
BREAKING NEWS: SECOND IMPEACHMENT COMPLAINT FILED AGAINST THE VICE PRESIDENT
The story spread like wildfire.
News channels replayed every development every hour. Political commentators debated constitutional provisions on primetime television. Outside the Senate gates, media vans lined the streets before sunrise, waiting for senators to arrive.
The easy laughter that usually echoed through the corridors grew noticeably scarce. Office doors remained closed longer than usual. Staffers instinctively lowered their voices as they hurried past groups of senators engaged in hushed discussions.
Every conversation eventually led to the same topic.
The Senate had become divided.
There were senators who believed the Vice President should answer the charges through the constitutional process and that the Senate had the solemn duty to hear the case fairly.
Others argued just as passionately that the impeachment complaint was politically motivated and should not prosper.
Nobody openly announced which side they belonged to.
The atmosphere said enough.
Win had barely settled into his office when there was a familiar knock.
He smiled before even looking up.
He leaned back in his chair.
Risa rolled her eyes. She quietly closed the door behind her.
Unlike her office, which always seemed to have lawyers and staff coming in and out, Win's office was unusually peaceful. His staff had stepped out for another coordination meeting, leaving only the two of them.
Risa glanced at the mountain of folders occupying nearly every inch of his desk.
"You've started already?"
"The supporting documents."
"The Senate Rules. The Constitution."
She laughed, shaking her head.
For a moment, the tension outside the office disappeared.
It felt like every other day.
Until Risa's smile slowly faded.
She looked toward the impeachment complaint resting on his desk.
"You supported her campaign."
"Yes, it’s public knowledge."
There was no judgment in her voice.
Win let out a slow breath.
"I've asked myself that question more times than I'd like to admit."
Silence settled between them. He noticed the frame where their (VP Sara and him) sits. He turned it face down. Risa noticed.
He rested one hand over the thick stack of documents.
"I supported her because I believed she could contribute something to the country."
"But this isn't about the campaign anymore."
He looked at the Constitution lying beside the complaint.
"I'm not reading these as someone who supported a candidate."
"I'm reading them as a senator, soon to be senator-judge."
"And whatever decision I eventually make it has to be based on the evidence. Not on political debts."
Risa studied him for a long moment.
"I wasn't asking because I wanted your vote."
"I just wanted to know..."
"...that you were still you."
"I don't think I know how to be anyone else."
A knock interrupted them.
"They're asking everyone to proceed to the session hall."
Reality came rushing back.
Both of them stood. They walked side by side toward the session hall.
Neither noticed the curious glances that followed them.
The Senate session hall was unlike anything it had been in months.
The galleries were nearly full.
Members of the media occupied every available space.
Even senators who usually arrived just before the gavel quietly took their seats much earlier.
Everyone understood the significance of the proceedings.
Throughout the afternoon, the atmosphere inside the chamber grew increasingly tense.
Arguments over procedure quickly gave way to deeper constitutional debates.
Points of order interrupted speeches.
No one wanted to give an inch.
Win listened carefully, occasionally jotting down notes in the margins of his documents.
Across the aisle, Risa remained just as focused.
Then came one of the day's most heated exchanges.
Senator Marcoleta rose to speak.
As he laid out his arguments, murmurs spread across the chamber. Some senators nodded in agreement. Others quietly flipped through their own copies of the rules.
When Risa was recognized, she rose from her seat with the same calm composure she always carried.
She responded point by point, refusing to be rattled despite the increasingly heated atmosphere. The chamber watched as both senators defended their respective interpretations with conviction. The exchange grew firmer, sharper, drawing the attention of everyone inside the hall.
He didn't agree with every argument made that afternoon.
But one thing bothered him.
When the exchange threatened to become more personal than procedural, Win calmly requested recognition.
He spoke not to argue for one side or the other, but to remind the body of its constitutional duty—to preserve the dignity of the proceedings, to debate the issues rather than each other, and to ensure that every senator was heard with respect, regardless of where they stood.
The temperature in the room eased, if only slightly.
Risa glanced briefly in his direction.
By the time the session adjourned, it was already dark outside.
The Senate building remained brightly lit.
Reporters rushed toward the exits.
Staff members hurried to prepare statements for the following day.
Win simply returned to his office.
Tomorrow would be another long day.
Risa arrived home a little before ten.
She slipped off her heels with a tired sigh before collapsing onto the couch.
Her phone buzzed almost immediately.
She answered on the second ring.
"I'll take that as a no."
"I knew I couldn't fool you."
For the next several minutes, John simply listened.
Risa told him about the day's proceedings, the endless debates, the pressure inside the chamber, and how emotionally draining it had all been.
Only asked the occasional,
"What happened after that?"
He had learned long ago that loving Risa sometimes meant letting her unload the weight she carried all day.
When she finally paused, he smiled gently.
"You haven't even heard everything."
"I know how seriously you take your work."
"You always know what to say."
"I have years of practice."
Then another thought crossed her mind.
"Win surprised me today."
She briefly recounted the exchange inside the chamber and how Win had intervened when the discussion began drifting away from respectful debate.
"He reminded everyone why we were there."
The words left his mouth naturally.
After all, if someone had to stand beside Risa in moments like those...
He was relieved it was someone principled.
They talked for a few more minutes before saying goodnight.
Silence filled John's house.
He stared at the now dark screen of his phone.
A quiet ache settled somewhere inside his chest.
Not because he doubted Risa.
Not because he distrusted Win.
He respected him too much for that.
But because in moments like today...
When the debates became exhausting.
When Risa needed someone beside her...
He couldn't walk beside her into the session hall.
He couldn't quietly ask if she'd eaten after adjournment.
He couldn't stand beside her when the cameras stopped rolling.
That someone had been Win.
John closed his eyes for a brief moment before smiling to himself.
Love wasn't always about being the one physically present.
It meant trusting that the people around the one you loved would look after them until you could.
He found himself quietly grateful.
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