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Aiah hates that she’s waking up this early.

But she was dragged out of bed by her morning alarm. Her lola’s soft voice floating down the hallway.

“Aiah, gising na.” 

“Urgh.. Do I have to…?”

It was the first night of Simbang Gabi.

Her lola had asked gently, the way she always did, reminding Aiah that it was tradition, especially now that she was back in the province. Hindi pa kasi siya nakaka-uwi ever since umalis siya for New York six years ago for college. Now, she was doing her Master's.

And honestly, she didn’t really have any plans of coming back home.

She’d already built a life abroad. Bakit pa siya uuwi? 

But her lola had begged her. Kahit isang beses lang, she’d say. At least visit before she graduates. Aiah had always had a soft spot for her.

So she agreed.

They rode a tricycle to mass. After years in harsh, always-cold New York, the provincial breeze was more welcoming. The early morning air brushed her cheeks gently, and the lingering sleepiness made her eyes flutter.

When Aiah looked outside, she saw parols flickering along the road as they passed. Their soft glow guided them as the church came into view.

When they arrived, the sight of the old church tugged something in her chest. She didn’t have the heart to tell her lola that she’d stopped going to church after moving to America.

“Mag-volunteer ka naman sa choir, anak,” her lola suggested, glancing at her fondly. “Sayang ‘yang boses mo.”

“My throat’s a bit dry,” Aiah said, gaze elsewhere. “Maybe next time.”

She smiled as she said it, but she was really just trying to be respectful.

They found themselves seated a few rows from the front. Aiah settled into her seat and let her gaze drift around the church. It was the same one Aiah used to attend when she was younger. Little had changed—the simple walls, their small cracks, the fan turning slowly overhead. 

She breathed in the familiar scent of incense and brushed her hand against the smooth wooden surface beside her.

After a few more minutes had passed, the church quickly filled. People had already crowded the sides, and she could only guess that more people were waiting outside. 

Her attention shifted to the aisle as the opening hymn began. She rose with the rest of the crowd, watching the priest and the entourage make their entrance.

Aiah followed along without any trouble. She still remembered all the cues—when to stand, when to sit, all the responses you had to say. There was something about Church that stayed with you, even after you’d stepped away for so long. 

The atmosphere helped, probably. It was the first night of Simbang Gabi, after all, and Christmas in the Philippines had always felt different. Fuller. Something she’d never quite found anywhere else during the holiday season. 

“Inaanyayahan po namin ang pagsi-awit ng salmong tugunan.” The commentator announced.

And from the choir, a woman rose and walked to the podium. Her hair lay on her shoulder in loose waves, a few strands slipping from her face as she adjusted the microphone. She tugged at them while flipping through the songbook.

“Ang tugon.”

Aiah had been following along without any thought, but when the woman began to sing, her attention drifted to the podium.

♫ Nawa’y magpuri sa Iyo ang lahat ng mga tao.

And she repeated for the crowd as they sang along.

The woman’s voice filled the room immediately. Even when the crowd joined in, it stood out.

 When she sang the psalm, something inside Aiah shifted, like the sound had reached somewhere it wasn’t meant to.

Aiah couldn’t help but observe how the woman sang, so composed, so effortless. From where she sat, it felt like she was the only one in the church, like the voice was meant just for her.

“Tugon.”

Aiah’s mouth parted. She wanted to sing, but no sound came out. Her eyes stayed fixed on the woman, her own voice stuck. Suddenly unsure beside something so full.

It didn’t help that the woman was strikingly beautiful.

She didn’t realize she was staring until the woman seemed to sense it.

Their eyes met, just for a moment, in the middle of the psalm.

Aiah looked away first, suddenly aware of herself. She couldn’t help the heat rushing to her cheeks. But when she glanced back, the woman had already turned to the crowd, her voice just as steady as she continued singing, as if nothing had happened at all.

When the responsorial psalm ended, she watched as the woman returned to her seat among the choir.

Beside her, her friend leaned in as she sat down. “Ang ganda nung babaeng nasa fourth row.”

“Jhoanna, ano ba—nasa misa tayo. Kung ano-ano na naman iniisip mo,” she murmured, trying to ignore her.

“Hala, nakatingin sayo, ate Colet,” Jhoanna whispered back, eyes wide habang inaalog si Colet.

Colet reached back and pinched her side.

“Quiet,” she hushed.

Jhoanna winced quietly.

Colet closed her eyes for a brief moment, listening as the priest read out the Gospel, hoping that would be the end of it.

But Jhoanna leaned in again and whispered, "Kamukha niya si Mama Mary.”

“Isa,” Colet said with a stern voice, eyes still closed.

She didn’t need to look. It was enough to make Jhoanna shut up.

The Mass continued, prayers and responses flowing on, but Colet found her attention drifting despite herself. Curiosity tugged at her, so without turning fully, she stole a glance toward the fourth row.

The woman’s head was lowered, eyes fixed on her lap—until she looked up.

Their gazes met.

Colet looked away at once, shifting in her seat.

Kamukha nga.

On the second night of Simbang Gabi, Aiah woke up early.

“Aga ng gising ah,” her lola commented as Aiah brushed her hair, laying it into one side.

“I had a good sleep,” she said simply.

When they arrived at the church, Aiah tugged gently at her lola’s sleeve and insisted they sit near the front, close to the podium.

Wala lang.

When she sat down, Aiah’s eyes drifted toward the choir. She scanned the rows carefully, searching for…

Wala.

She looked again, slower this time. The same members from the night before. 

She felt a pang of disappointment when the mass started.

When it came time for the responsorial psalm, a different singer stepped forward. Aiah tried listening. She folded her hands neatly on her lap. But it wasn’t the same.

The mass continued, and her eyes stayed on the choir until her lola nudged her gently. “Okay ka lang, Aiah?” she whispered.

Aiah looked back at her, “Hmm?”, then nodded quickly. “Oo naman po.” 

It wasn’t like the choir was bad, pero hindi talaga siya mapakale. Something was missing. It left her oddly unsatisfied.

So she followed along with the Mass quietly, her thoughts drifting as it went on.

When it finally ended, Aiah overheard a few choir members talking as people stood to leave.

“Bakit wala si ate Colet?”

Colet?

“Masakit daw lalamunan eh. Wala rin siya bukas.”

Aiah frowned slightly.

“Paano na ’yan? Kulang na tayo niyan.”

Then her lola spoke up suddenly. “Puwede ko ba i-volunteer ’tong apo ko? Magaling ’yan kumanta.”

It took a moment for Aiah to respond, her thoughts still somewhere else. She turned to her lola. “What?”

“Kumakanta ka naman sa church niyo sa America, ’di ba?”

“Erm—” Aiah glanced back at the choir, then back at her. It’s bad to lie in front of God, she thought.

“Sige na, nak. Miss ko na boses mo.”

Aiah stalled, searching for an excuse, but she couldn’t find any. She hadn’t sung in a while, and she didn’t want to make a scene. She didn’t want to disappoint her lola either—especially not when she came home all this way for her.

“If… if it’s not a hassle,” she said at last.

“Hindi po,” the choir member replied. “Welcome po ang volunteers.”

Aiah let out a small breath. “Okay,” 

On the third night of Simbang Gabi, Aiah went ahead to church. Sabi kasi pumunta siya ng maaga.

This early, however, only a few lights were open. It put a shiver down Aiah's spine.

She made her way to the choir’s corner and hovered for a second before speaking.

“Hi.”

One of the members looked up and smiled in recognition. “Oh. Ikaw yung nag-volunteer kahapon.” Then she turned to someone beside her. “Jho, ikaw mag-fill in sa kanya.”

Jhoanna looked up—then froze, eyes widening na para bang nakakita siya ng multo.

“Hello, po,” she said, shyly. “Ako po si Jhoanna…”

“Aiah.”

Jhoanna nodded quickly and opened the songbook between them. She pointed to the pages as she spoke, explaining which parts were to be sung tonight, when to come in, and which verses they usually repeat. Aiah listened closely, nodding along, following the notes with her finger.

During mass, Aiah caught sight of her lola seated at the front again. She met her gaze, and her lola offered a small, reassuring smile. Aiah smiled back in return.

When everything ended, and people began shuffling out, Jhoanna looked over at her.

“Ang ganda ng boses mo, ate Aiah,” she said earnestly.

Aiah smiled at the compliment, a little surprised. “Thank you, Jhoanna.”

Jhoanna sang well—really well, actually—so hearing it from her meant more than Aiah expected.

“Bukas po ulit?” Jhoanna asked.

“Huh? Wala pa ba si Colet?” Aiah said without thinking, then paused, realizing what had slipped out.

Jhoanna’s expression shifted, the timidness easing into something more amused.

“I mean—sorry. I… I overheard your conversation kasi,” Aiah added quickly. “I thought this was just a one time thing since kulang kayo.”

“Pwede ka pa rin naman magjoin para sa mga susunod na misa. Hindi rin kasi kami sure kailan siya makakabalik,” Jhoanna said, still looking at her with a hint of curiosity in her tone.

“I see.”

They closed their songbooks. Napansin din ni Jhoanna na medyo nakatulala na si Aiah.

“Unless…” she said, breaking the silence, and letting the word hang a little longer than necessary.

“Anong unless?” 

Jhoanna tilted her head, eyes bright. “Hindi mo ba gusto?”

“Gusto ano?” 

Jhoanna hummed, pretending to think. “’Yung pag-fill in,” she said innocently. Then she smiled. “O baka ’yung nawawala.”

Aiah crossed her arms. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Observation lang,” Jhoanna replied lightly. “Masyado ka namang defensive,”

“I was just curious.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jhoanna said, clearly unconvinced. “Pero okay lang naman. Tahimik lang siya, pero mabait ’yon.”

Aiah glanced back at her. “Close kayo?”

“Nino?” Jhoanna grinned.

Aiah narrowed her eyes.

Jhoanna finally gave in, laughing. “Medyo.” Then, she nudges Aiah’s arm.

“So, bukas ulit?”

On the fourth night of Simbang gabi, Aiah arrived early like the night before. The breeze was hitting her harder now as she stepped off the tricycle.

But as she entered the church, she already heard voices—it echoed across the empty halls.

“Ate Colet, hindi mo naman kailangan magmadali,” someone said.

“Oo. Ipagpahinga mo muna boses mo. Kaya pa namin dito.”

Jhoanna noticed Aiah approaching and brightened immediately. “Oh—ate Aiah!” she called, waving her over.

When Aiah drew closer, Colet still hadn’t looked her way.

“Ate Aiah,” Jhoanna said, gesturing at each other. “Ate Colet.”

Then, with a grin, she added, “Ate Colet… si Mama Mary.”

Napataas naman ng kilay si Aiah.

“Eme,” Jhoanna laughed. “Volunteer siya.”

“Hello po,” Aiah replied, a little shy. Somewhat intimidated by the woman’s look. Parang napaka seryosong tao kasi.

“Wala ng po. Magka-age lang naman ata tayo.”

“Okay.”

“Teka, may kukunin lang ako,” Jhoanna said, still grinning as she backed away. She pointed at Colet. “Ikaw na muna mag-walkthrough kay ate Aiah. Huwag ka muna kumanta ah.”

Aiah sat down quietly beside the choir stand. She could feel Colet’s attention even before she moved. A moment later, Colet sat beside her, opened the songbook, and leaned in slightly.

“Hindi naman ako nangangagat,” she said casually.

“Huh?” Somehow, lalong kinabahan si Aiah. 

“Kalma lang,” Colet added. “Ako lang ’to,” she said with a small chuckle.

She flipped through the pages. “Eto ’yung songs for today.” She marked a few spots. Aiah nodded along, listening closely.

Colet kept going, then stopped at a page and pointed to a line.

“Dito,” she said softly. “Sa part na ’to, medyo mataas—”

She tried to sing it, but her voice caught, turning into a small cough.

Aiah glanced at her. “Hey, you shouldn’t sing.”

Instead, she sang the line herself—starting low, then easing upward.

Colet’s fingers stilled on the page. There was a brief pause.

“Ulit,” she murmured. “I-steady mo pa.”

Aiah tried again, adjusting as instructed.

Colet leaned in a little closer, her shoulder nearly brushing Aiah’s. “Isa pa.”

Aiah sang it once more.

Colet didn’t say anything right away. Then she gave a slow, approving nod.

“Okay?” Aiah asked.

“Perfect,” Colet said, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

After Mass, the choir slowly dispersed, some standing up to leave, others lingered in small groups. Aiah stayed where she was.

“Uy,” Jhoanna said, popping up beside her. “May pakain sa labas. Lugaw. Libre ng simbahan. Tara?”

They stepped outside together. It was still dark, but the church grounds felt brighter with people lining up near the tables. Large pots lined long tables with paper cups and plastic spoons scattered across. Tubs of fried garlic and sliced calamansi on the side.

They both grab cups when someone joins them.

“Mhm. Sarap.” Colet said, appearing at their side, cup in hand, taking a spoonful of lugaw to her mouth.

They ate quietly pero palipat-lipat yung tingin ni Jhoanna sa dalawa. 

 “So… Ate Aiah, tuloy ka pa ba sa choir? Naghahanap na kami ng next na mag reresponsorial psalm.”

Aiah was a bit caught off guard by the insinuation. “Ah—hindi ko pa sure,” she said, laughing it off. “Tsaka hindi naman ganon kaganda boses ko para magsolo.”

“Bakit naman?” Jhoanna pouted. “Ang ganda kaya ng boses mo. ’Di ba, ate Colet?” She nudged her friend.

Colet glanced at Aiah over the rim of her cup.

“Maganda, ’di ba?” Jhoanna pressed.

Colet’s gaze lingered for a second longer before turning away, her face still half-hidden behind the cup. 

“Oo.”

“See?” Jhoanna brightened. “Si ate Colet na nagsabi niyan!”

Aiah laughed softly at the comment. Her gaze turned back to her cup.

“Saan ka ba nagdududa?” Jhoanna asked.

Aiah hesitated, her fingers tightened unconsciously. She let out a small laugh, a little awkward. “Hindi naman sa ayaw ko,” she said quietly. “Siguro hindi lang kasi ako confident.”

“I haven’t sung in a while,” she admitted, eyes dropping to the lugaw. “I… I haven’t even been to church in years.” She glanced up to check for a reaction, worried they’d judge her for it.

Colet looked at her then, more openly. “Okay lang ’yon,” she said without hesitation. “Nandito ka naman na ngayon.”

Aiah felt relieved at least.

“Oo nga,” Jhoanna added. “Hindi naman nag-a-attendance si God.”

Colet immediately pinched her side.

“Joke lang kasi,” Jhoanna said with a wince, laughing it off. Then she leaned in, voice softer. “Tsaka, ’di ba, gusto ng lola mo marinig ka ulit.”

Aiah’s smile lingered at the thought.

“And,” Jhoanna added, glancing meaningfully at Colet, “pwede ka naman tulungan ni ate Colet.”

Aiah glanced at Jhoanna, then back at Colet.

“…Ah,” Colet said, blinking once. “Oo. Pwede naman.”

Aiah thought about it for a bit. She did miss singing. Maybe she can do it for her lola at least. She might as well.

“…Okay….. Kung okay lang.”

“Walang problema.” Colet replied with a smile.

“Bilis naman mag-agree.” Jhoanna grinned, looking between the two.

On the fifth night of Simbang Gabi, Aiah met her lola in the kitchen as she finished tying her shoes. Her half-finished coffee was still steaming in her mug. 

“Nag-eenjoy ka naman, anak?” her lola asked, watching her closely.

“Po?” Aiah hummed, distracted.

“Buti pinagpapatuloy mo yung pagsali sa choir,” 

“Ah… opo.”

Her lola nodded, then said gently, “Gusto kitang marinig ulit mag-solo.”

“Lola, sumosobra ka na sakin ah.” Aiah joked.

“Pasko naman eh. Baka puwede ko nang sagarin,” her lola laughed.

Kahit ngayon lang,” her lola continued. “Namiss ko talaga pagkanta mo.”

Aiah looked down, a small smile forming. “…Tingnan po natin.”

“Sige. Aabangan ko ‘yan.”

And then her lola suddenly remembered. “Nak, bumili nga pala ako ng pandesal.” She hands her a tupperware. “Pinalamanan ko na rin ‘yan. Share mo sa mga ka-choir mo.”

“Salamat po.”

So she brought the food when she went ahead for church. Pero sobrang aga niya nga lang kasi wala pang bukas na ilaw sa loob.

Aiah used her phone’s flashlight to make her way through the empty halls, the beam skimming over pews and pillars. When she reached the choir section, she switched on the light there, illuminating just that corner of the church.

She wanted to lie her head down, still feeling sleepy. But after a short while, she heard footsteps approaching.

“Masyado ka yatang excited?”

Colet said it with a small smile as she placed her things down beside her.

“Maybe. Pero ikaw din naman,” Aiah points out. “Kumain ka na ba?”

Colet turned to her, brow lifting in mild confusion

.

“I mean…” she gestured to her bag. “I brought food. Galing sa lola ko. Baka gusto mo.”

“Ah,” Colet said, her smile softening. “Sige.”

She reached for a pandesal, taking a small bite.

For a while, they talked quietly—well, Aiah talked more, and Colet ate. She asked about the church, how long Colet had been with the choir. Colet answered in short, easy replies, listening more than she spoke.

Her voice seems okay now, too. Which probably meant she was back to singing again.

Aiah talked about her time abroad—how she hadn’t been back to the province in years, how life just kept moving. She mentioned her plans after she graduates, saying them as if they had already been set in stone a long time ago.

Colet just listened, and when she finished chewing, she hesitated for a bit as if choosing her words.

“Pwede ba kitang tanungin?” she asked carefully.

Aiah looked at her. “Sure.”

“Ano… sabi mo matagal ka nang di nagsisimba. Bakit?”

Aiah paused. Not because the question was heavy—she just hadn’t really thought about it.

“I guess, there’s no specific reason,” she said finally. “When I went away for college, I was far from home, far from family. ”

She shrugged lightly. “There wasn’t any pressure to go.”

Colet nodded along.

“I grew up following Catholic traditions. My lola’s always been very traditional. But… I don’t know. Maybe it didn’t really sink with me for it to stay.”

Aiah let herself be vulnerable. If she was going to confess it, she might as well do it in front of God.

“I also used to sing a lot din,” she continued. “Pero mostly pang-enjoy lang. Not because I was part of a club or something. Pero ayun na nga, I haven’t sung in a while, so I feel a bit rusty.”

“Okay lang ‘yon.”

Colet met Aiah’s eyes. “It’s okay to stop for a while. Hindi naman nawawala ang mga bagay kapag nawala ka saglit.”

“Hindi naman saglit. Matagal na talaga.” 

“Well, some things are meant to stay with you even when you leave…kahit lumayo ka pa. Kahit gaano pa katagal 'yan."

Aiah was about to say something in response when she stopped short, squinting.

“Wait,” she said, leaning in slightly. “Di kita maseryoso—”

Colet blinked. “Huh?”

“May peanut butter ka sa labi.”

Aiah reached out and wiped it off with her thumb.

“There.”

She did it without thinking, already pulling her hand back like it was nothing.

Colet, on the other hand, didn’t move at all. She just stared.

Footsteps echoed down the aisle.

“Good morning!” Jhoanna’s voice echoed in the halls. “May naaamoy akong food.”

Aiah turned, “Good morning.” Handing the tupperware, Gusto mo? It’s pandesal.” 

“Ooo, syempre,” Jhoanna said, popping it open.

Then she glanced at Colet.

“Uy,” she said slowly, eyebrow lifting. “Ba’t parang nakatulala ka diyan?”

“Sorry,” Colet said suddenly, clearing her throat as she stood. “Kailangan ko ata ng kape.”

She didn’t wait for a response, already walking toward the back, one hand brushing her face like she was trying to reset herself.

Jhoanna watched her go, then looked back at Aiah.

“Grabe ka,” she muttered under her breath with an amused smile.

“Ha?”

“Wala,” Jhoanna said lightly. “Halika, tulungan na kita.”

She walked Aiah through the flow of the Mass for that day. 

Pagbalik ni Colet, she sat quietly. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere, but she offered small tips and comments as they prepared for mass.

And so the early morning went on as usual. The church filled up just as quickly as the previous days.

During the Mass, Aiah found herself seated between Jhoanna and Colet. Jhoanna sang confidently as usual. On her other side, Colet sat straight and focused, glancing over at Aiah now and then. And each time their eyes almost met, Colet would look away, a little too quickly.

When Mass ended, Colet bid her goodbye, “Ingat ka pauwi,” as she gathered her things, eyes averted.

“Ikaw din.” Aiah squeezed her shoulder as she passed. “See you tomorrow.”

On the sixth night of Simbang Gabi, Colet was the first to arrive. She sat in the choir section, reviewing the songbook, until Aiah walked over.

“Good morning,” Aiah greeted, smiling.

Colet returned it faintly. “Good morning.” Her eyes drifted to what Aiah was holding—two paper cups, the familiar sweet scent of coffee giving it away.

“Coffee?” Aiah asked, handing one to her.

“Thanks.”

They sipped quietly, letting the early morning sounds fill the space between them.

Colet set her cup aside and reached for her notebook. The pages were worn, filled with her handwriting—lyrics, notes, small reminders written in the margins.

“Gusto mo marinig psalm for today?”

“Ikaw ba kakanta?” Aiah asked mid-sip.

“Mhm,” Colet said, eyes on the page. “Maybe, I can hear your thoughts.”

“Thoughts ko? You’re the expert here.”

“Makinig ka nalang.” 

“Okay.” Aiah chuckles, and so she scoots her chair closer. “Go.”

Colet straightened her posture and then took a quiet breath. She sang the first psalm, then the response,

♫ Ang Panginoo’y darating, Siya’y dakilang Hari natin.

Aiah watched her in awe. Sobrang galing lang talaga kumanta ni Colet.

“Okay ba?”

“Ganda,” Aiah said, meeting her eyes, smile wide. “Isa pa nga.”

Colet laughed softly. “Okay na ’yon. Makalibreng concert ka pa sa’kin.”

“And who wouldn’t want that?” Aiah replied, still looking at her.

Colet cleared her throat, eyes dropping back to the notebook, a little flustered. “Gusto mo i-try?”

“Yung ano?”

“Kantahin ’yung psalm,” Colet said. “Ituro ko sa’yo.”

“Ah—okay lang,” Aiah said quickly, suddenly shy. “You don’t have to.”

“Hindi nga,” Then Colet glanced up, meeting her eyes now.

“Gusto ko lang marinig kang kumanta.”

Colet smiled and shifted her chair closer, turning the notebook so they could both see. “Kahit yung first psalm lang tsaka yung tugon.”

Aiah nodded, leaning in. “Okay.”

Colet hummed the note quietly first, just enough to guide her. “Ganito.”

Aiah followed along, but when she reached a harder note, she stopped, laughing under her breath. “Wait, sorry—”

“Okay lang,” Colet said immediately. “Ulit.”

So Aiah tried again. Her voice steadied this time, though still a little unsure.

“Good.”

They sang a little more as other choir members began to shuffle inside.

“Kayang-kaya mo naman pala eh,” Colet said.

“No need mambola,” Aiah replied, leaning back, trying to laugh it off.

“Hindi ’yon bola,” Colet insisted, voice rising just a bit. “Kaya mo nga. Promise. Maganda boses mo.”

Aiah looked at her, taken aback by the certainty in her voice. Somehow, hearing it from Colet made her heart stutter.

“…Thank you,”

Colet just nodded, eyes dropping back to the notebook.

And just like the first night, Colet stepped up to the podium during the responsorial psalm.  She sang with the same easy confidence. 

“Tugon.”

♫ Ang Panginoo’y darating, Siya’y dakilang Hari natin.

Colet glanced toward the choir.

Aiah wasn’t singing, she just watched her.

Colet lifted an eyebrow—just slightly. As if asking ba’t di ka kumakanta?

Aiah chuckled softly to herself.

Jhoanna leaned in from beside her. “Need ba talaga maglandian sa harap ni Jesus.”

Aiah rolled her eyes, ignoring her completely.

“Tugon.”

This time, Aiah sang. Colet smiled as she led the response—and from her seat, Aiah smiled back.

After mass, the three of them went outside of the church. Gusto raw ni Jhoanna ng Bibingka. There had been more vendors every day ever since Simbang Gabi started. They stood by the side of the street. Hot bibingka and puto bumbong were being made fresh, steam curling out of the clay pots as vendors fanned the flames, the smell of warm butter spreading through the air.

Colet and Aiah stood by the side, waiting for Jhoanna to get their food.

Colet starts. “Okay ba?”

“Pagkanta mo?”

“Hindi, yung kalagayan ng Pilipinas ngayon.” she laughs at her own joke, “Oo. Yung pagkanta ko.”

“You keep asking me for my thoughts as if magbabago. Do you need to ask pa? Sobrang galing mo.” Aiah said it with so much admiration.

“Parang bumubukas yung gates ng heaven pag kumakanta ka.” 

“OA mo naman.” Colet couldn’t help but laugh.

Aiah laughed softly, “Hindi nga. First day palang, gandang-ganda na ako sa boses mo.” 

Jhoanna joined them again. “Bumili ako bibingka at puto bumbong.” She lifted the plastic bag. “Tara, habang mainit pa.”

They ate by the roadside with the other churchgoers. The sky was slowly lightening, the night fading into a deep blue as the sun began to edge its way up.

Aiah handed the bibingka toward Colet. “Here, have some.”

But Colet waves her off. “Okay lang. Hindi ako mahilig sa bibingka.”

Aiah gasped, genuinely surprised. 

Parang ano pa yung point ng Simbang Gabi kung walang Bibingka.

“Ha?”

“Weirdo ‘yan si ate Colet,” Jhoanna said, her mouth half-full. “Kaya nga binilhan ko na lang ng puto bumbong. ’Yan lang kasi gusto niya.”

“Weirdo agad?” Colet shot back. “Hindi ba puwedeng ayoko lang?”

“Why don’t you like it?” Aiah frowned.

“Parang… weird lang yung lasa,” Colet said, shrugging.

Aiah took a bite of her bibingka. After years away, this was one of the things she had definitely missed. She took in the buttery flavor, the soft texture, the faint taste of banana leaf etched into the bread from cooking, the niyog balancing out the sweetness from the sugar.

“Try mo lang,” Aiah said, holding it out again. “This is one of the best ones I’ve had.”

“Fine.”

As she lifted it to her mouth, Aiah added, “Get a little bit of everything.”

“Demanding naman nito,” Colet said playfully.

She took a small bite, following Aiah’s instructions. She chewed, paused, then furrowed her brows.

“Eh,” she decided. “Hindi ko talaga gusto.”

Aiah pouted.

“More for us!” Jhoanna declared happily, already reaching for it again.

“Maybe, you’d like it better if may cheese.” 

“Bakit ba pinipilit mo?” Colet laughed.

“Well, I like it better with cheese.”

On the seventh night of Simbang Gabi. Colet and Aiah arrive at the same time. They wave at each other as they meet at the plaza outside the church, the lights twinkling against the early darkness. 

They were also the first ones to arrive. This time, the sleepiness had gone quickly, and small laughter echoed through the halls as they walked in.

Aiah was chuckling at a joke Colet had said, and she couldn't help laughing to the point she was snorting.

“Huy. Over naman sa tawa.” Colet slapped Aiah’s lap. 

Aiah could barely respond, still shaking with laughter in her seat.

Their conversation flowed easily after that. It was just the two of them that early in the morning, but somehow the space felt alive. Colet talked more about her life here, sharing stories she didn’t usually tell.

“Actually… feeling ko talaga favorite ako ni Lord eh.”

“Mukha nga.”

“May isa pang time. Bumaba ako ng jeep tas ang layo na nang nilakad ko nang marealize ko wala pala sakin yung wallet ko. Grabe yung panic ko parang mahihimatay na ako sa kaba. Tapos biglang tumawag sakin si Jho, napulot niya raw kasi sumakay din siya sa same na jeep. Grabeng swerte talaga ‘yon na si Jho yung unang nakapulot.”

“I think yung swerte is hindi ka kinupitan ni Jhoanna.” Aiah joked.

They both laugh.

“Minsan talaga mapapaisip ka nalang na talagang ginagabayan ka ni Lord eh. Na para bang sobrang lakas ng guardian angel ko.”

“Do you really believe in them? Angels?” Aiah asks genuinely.

“Oo naman.”

“You’ve seen one?”

Colet looks at Aiah, wondering if the question was serious. “Hindi naman kailangan makita para maniwala. Hindi ba ganon naman yung faith? We believe in God kahit hindi natin siya nakikita. Tyaka naniniwala ako na God made angels in different forms,” she says.

She glanced back at her notebook. “Hindi mo alam—baka yung mga magagandang nangyayari sa’yo ay dahil binigyan ka ni Lord ng angel para gabayan ka.”

Aiah watched her for a while. There was something about Colet she’d grown fond of. When they first met, Colet had been quiet—intimidating at first glance. Aiah had expected a storm, someone loud with power in her soul. It just felt natural that way, especially from the way she sang.

But maybe it was a different kind of power, she realized.

Colet was vibrant, but also soft. Calm. Tender.

Her eyes disappeared when she smiled; she covered her mouth when she laughed, like her joy was something meant to be kept small. The thought would tug at something in Aiah’s chest.

Colet glanced up and caught her staring. Their eyes met.

Aiah thought her eyes were beautiful—those siren eyes that unsettled you at first, only to reveal something more delicate underneath.

She thought about it then. She’d always imagined angels would have fluffy wings and halos.

But maybe… they just came with brown eyes.

Jhoanna sang the responsorial psalm that morning. She stood from her seat right beside Aiah, and she flashed her two thumbs up before she went. Jhoanna returned the gesture with a grin.

When the responses came, Colet sang. Her voice was warm as always. Aiah almost wished she didn’t have to sing, just so she could listen—but she knew Colet would scold her for it, so she joined in.

The Mass went on. The Gospel was read, the homily followed, but Aiah found herself distracted through most of it. Maybe it was the early morning finally catching up to her. It also didn’t help that it started raining and the sound of water pouring outside made it all the more harder to stay awake.

Colet nudged her lightly during the homily when she let out a small yawn.

By the time they reached the Ama Namin, everything should’ve felt the same. Aiah sat between Colet and Jhoanna ever since she joined the choir, and their hands linked as they always did.

But something felt different.

Colet’s hand felt warmer this time, her grip firm but still gentle. And when the song ended, Colet’s hold lingered a beat longer than it should have, and it unsettled Aiah.

Just a little.

After mass, Colet insisted on accompanying Aiah home when she realized she’d forgotten her umbrella.

So they shared one, heading toward the line of tricycles near the church. The umbrella turned out to be a little too small for both of them, so they got damp anyway. Their shoulders brushed as they tried to squeeze under it.

Thankfully, the rain had lightened by the time they rode the tricycle back to Aiah’s place.

When they arrived, Aiah spoke first. “Sorry, naabala pa talaga kita.”

“Okay lang,” Colet said with a small chuckle. “Mahirap magkasakit. Hindi ka makakakanta.” 

Then the door opened suddenly.

“Aiah—” her lola paused, noticing Colet. “Ay, may bisita ka pala.”

“Ay hindi po,” Colet said quickly. “Hinahatid ko lang po si Aiah. Mauuna na rin po ako, baka umulan pa ulit.”

“Lola,” Aiah said, “si Colet po pala. Kasama ko siya sa choir.”

Colet stepped forward and reached for her lola’s hand. “Magandang umaga po.”

“Ah,” her lola smiled. “Ikaw yung may magandang boses.”

Colet flushed. “Salamat po.”

“The one and only,” Aiah added, grinning.

Her lola turned to her. “Kailan na ba yang solo mo, anak?”

“‘La! Ano ba yan?” 

“Bakit? Hindi ba talaga mangyayari?” her lola frowned slightly.

“Sa 24 po,” Colet said suddenly.

“Huh? Anong 24?” Aiah’s eyes widened. “Hoy—”

“Talaga ba?” her lola asked, hopeful.

“Opo. Yung responsorial psalm.”

“Hoy, desisyon ka,” Aiah said, half-panicked.

Colet laughed. “Ako bahala,” she said easily. Then, softer, “Inaabangan ka ng lola mo, o.”

“Pero sa 24 talaga? Christmas Eve?”

Colet smiled. “Bakit hindi?”

“Save the best for last.”

On the eighth night of Simbang Gabi, Aiah suddenly dreaded going to church. Why did Colet have to volunteer her for the responsorial psalm? The thought alone was already giving her anxiety.

“Good morning,” Colet beamed softly from her seat.

Aiah didn’t answer right away. She squinted at her instead.

“Ayoko sa’yo. Hindi tayo bati.”

“Hala. Nagtampo.”

“Pahamak ka.” Aiah muttered as she sat down.

“Kaya mo ’yon! Bakit naman kita ipapahamak?”

“Ate Aiah!” Jhoanna suddenly chimed in as she arrived. “Ikaw daw ang sa psalm tomorrow?!”

“Thanks to this girl,” Aiah said, giving Colet a playful shove.

“Yieee,” Jhoanna laughed. “Ikaw pala ang may pakana.”

Colet just shrugged. “Might as well, diba? Tutal babalik ka na rin abroad. Sulitin mo na ’yung stay mo dito.”

Then Jhoanna groaned dramatically,

“Ate Aiaaaaah, aalis ka talaga?"

“I still have to finish my studies,” Aiah reminded gently. Responsibilities and all that.”

“Kailan ba alis mo?”

“A few days before New Year's.”

“Tapos babalik ka?” 

“I don’t know yet, Jho. Maybe. I’ll have to graduate first.”

“Grabe,” Jhoanna sighed. “Paano na kami? Paano na ako?”

“Ikaw talaga?” Aiah laughed. “You can always message me. Video call. Letters pa nga if you want.”

“Ayoko. Dapat andito ka. Mandatory.”

“So clingy ah.” Aiah teased. “Sino nag-decide?”

Jhoanna crossed her arms. “Ako.”

Before Aiah could reply, Colet cleared her throat.

“Bago pa ang lahat,” she said, tapping the notebook lightly. “Yung psalm mo, Aiah.”

They both turned to her.

“Ipractice na natin.”

On the ninth day of Simbang Gabi, Aiah could hear the quiet clatter of dishes from the kitchen as she headed downstairs.

Her lola was already there, humming to herself, and when she saw Aiah, her face lit up.

“Excited na ako,” she said, smiling widely. “Kakanta ka na mamaya.”

“Gusto mo bang mag-almusal?” her lola asked, already reaching for a plate.

Aiah shook her head. “Pass muna po.”

Her lola paused, looking at her more closely. “Kabado ka?”

“A little.”

It was hard to ignore the tight knot in her stomach. It had been there since Colet volunteered her. When they practiced the psalm yesterday, it only tightened even more. Colet had noticed, of course, offering quiet reassurance between verses.

“Wala kang dapat ikatakot.”

Even after Mass, Aiah had asked if they could practice again. They practiced until noon. Colet even stayed for lunch at their house—her lola insisting as thanks for helping Aiah. And after Colet went home, Aiah shut herself in her room, singing the psalm over and over until she felt more confident.

“Hindi ka ba masaya?” her lola asked gently.

“Po?”

“Simula nung nag-start ka mag-choir dito napansin kong mas masaya ka eh. Ang aga mo pang gumigising. Natutuwa ako kasi iniisip ko, masaya kang kumakanta.”

Aiah smiled faintly.

Her days had been full. Full of warmth, of laughter, of early mornings that she looked forward to. Singing again had made space for something she didn’t know she’d been missing for so long. She even looked forward to the moments after Mass, when she and Colet would linger a little longer—over light breakfast, coffee, a walk, or just talking.

“O may iba pa bang rason…”

Aiah looked at her, though she didn’t speak.

Her lola laughed then, even as she seemed to understand something. “Biro lang, nak.”

She pulled Aiah into a hug. “Basta, masaya ako na masaya ka.”

She and her lola decided to go together, Aiah holding her hand through the ride. Her thoughts drifted—it was finally the last day.

Pasko na bukas.

As the tricycle rumbled along the road, Aiah found herself looking out. She knew she would miss this—the place, the early mornings, the parols, the bibingka.

She smiled as she closed her eyes, the nervousness from earlier slowly replaced by warmth.

The church was livelier now. More people had gathered, and the sleepy smiles from the earlier days had turned bright.

Colet greeted them first at the plaza. “Magandang umaga po,” she said, taking Aiah’s lola’s hand.

“O siya,” her lola said warmly, turning to Aiah. “Mag-prepare ka na, nak. Galingan mo ah.”

She went off to greet her church friends.

Colet turned to Aiah. “Kabado pa rin?”

Aiah took a breath. “I think… I’m better now.”

Colet smiled. “Tara.”

When they entered the church, it was even livelier inside. The bright lights caught Aiah off guard for a moment. They walked along the side and toward the choir section, where Jhoanna stood among the members, already bright, matching the atmosphere.

“Ate Aiaaaaah!” Jhoanna greeted her, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Hoy. ‘Di pa siya aalis.” Colet scolded.

Jhoanna didn’t let go. If anything, her hug tightened. “Pero last day na natin,” she pouted into Aiah’s shoulder.

Aiah laughed, patting her back. “Let me sing first, Jho.”

“Noooo,” Jhoanna whined. “Tapos aalis ka na.”

“Ang OA mo, umagang-umaga,” Colet said.

Jhoanna finally pulled back, eyes already glistening.

“Iyakin pa nga,” Colet added.

“Jho.” Aiah comforts her, rubbing her back. “I’m not leaving yet for a few more days. We’ll hang out, okay? Before I leave.”

“Sama mo na ‘yan sayo sa America tas wag mo na ibalik. Kahit ikaw nalang.” Colet jokes.

“Wow, ah,” Jhoanna said, sniffling.

“Stop making this hard for me too.” Aiah says. 

“Focus muna sa solo mo.” Colet says.

When the familiar opening hymn began, signaling the start of the Mass, Aiah felt more high-spirited, voice fuller, a smile lingering on her lips as she sang.

“Sa ngalan ng Ama, at ng Anak, at ng Espiritu Santo.”

Though her energy seemed to take a step back the moment, the mass progressed further. Aiah found herself fidgeting in her seat—her hands clasping, and her knee shook uncontrollably. She tried to focus on the readings, on the prayers, but her thoughts kept drifting to what was coming.

She felt a gentle tap on her knee.

Colet’s hand rested there briefly, enough to ground her. She didn’t say anything—just a small, reassuring pat.

Aiah breathed out.

“Inaanyayahan po namin ang pagsi-awit ng salmong tugunan.” The commentator finally announced.

She stood.

From her seat, Colet looked up at her and gave her a small smile. Beside her, Jhoanna leaned in, barely containing herself.

“Let’s go, Ate Aiah,” she whispered, a soft squeal in her voice.

Aiah walked to the podium; there was a little briskness to her walk.

“Ang tugon.”

♫ Pag-ibig mong walang maliw ay lagi kong sasambitin.

She sang, the rhythm coming to her naturally, just the way she had practiced.

Then came the first psalm. She focused on the words, fingers gripping the page a little too tightly as her heartbeat picked up. She glanced up at the crowd—some swaying gently, some listening intently, others with their eyes closed.

She found her lola among them, smiling from ear to ear.

The sight warmed her chest. Aiah smiled back as she continued.

♫ Pag-ibig mong walang maliw ay lagi kong sasambitin.

She looked toward the choir.

Colet was watching her, eyes steady, soft smile. Nodding along as she sang, then mouthed—

“Perfect.”

When the psalm ended, Aiah walked back to her seat and let out a quiet breath.

“Sabi sa’yo eh,” Colet leaned in. “Kayang-kaya mo.”

Aiah smiled, the tension finally easing from her shoulders. “Grabe yung kaba ko.”

“You did well. Hanga talaga ako sa boses mo.” Colet said with a sparkle in her eyes.

And so, they turned their attention back to the Mass. Aiah could finally breathe normally now, though her hands were still cold from the nerves.

Tapos na sa wakas.

No more early morning Masses. She’d enjoyed singing again. The church hadn’t changed, but her mornings had been more fulfilling. The thought should have felt satisfying, but instead, there was a faint ache in her chest. She’d have to make the most of the days she had left. The realization saddened her more than she expected.

When the opening notes of Ama Namin played, Aiah reached out, linking hands with Colet and Jhoanna. Both tightened their hold just slightly, and Aiah returned it, their warmth settling into her.

Their voices rose together, not loudly—but in a way that felt full. Jhoanna sang with her usual ease, Colet steady beside her, and Aiah found her place between them, blending in, belonging.

When the song ended, Aiah loosened her grip as both her hands fell back to her side. Jhoanna had already let go.

But Colet’s stayed.

Her hand remained holding Aiah’s.

Then Aiah shifted, her fingers finding Colet’s and threading through them.

Neither of them looked over, both pretending not to notice the flutter in their chests. Neither of them said a word.

Colet only tightened her hold, letting the warmth stay with them just a little while longer as the mass continued.

Their hands stayed joined together throughout, and Aiah could feel Colet’s finger brush lightly over her own. Aiah could only wish this moment would never end.

“....At kayo’y basbasan ng Diyos, makapangyarihan sa lahat. Sa ngalan ng Ama, ng Anak, at ng Espirito Santo.”

Amen.

“Ang misa ay natapos na, humayo kayo sa kapayapaan ni Kristo. Maligayang pasko po sa ating lahat.”

Aiah had been double-checking her bags since that morning. She’d been up all night packing—shoving things into her luggage until everything finally fit.

The past few days had gone by quickly. Colet and Jhoanna had taken her around the province—famous eateries, photo spots, old landmarks Aiah still remembered from years ago. They made sure to stop by souvenir shops, too. Aiah bought keychains for her colleagues back abroad, along with a few local snacks.

Now, her luggage was heavier than when she’d arrived.

Pasalubong ‘to, she insisted—conveniently leaving out the part where most of the snacks were actually for herself.

For Christmas, Aiah gave Colet a small notebook. It had originally been meant for her own journaling during her stay, but she never really used it. She hoped Colet would—maybe for lyrics, or singing notes, or anything she wanted. For Jhoanna, she gave some chocolates she’d brought home from the States. She promised to bring more next time.

She hadn’t expected to be giving Christmas presents this year.

Meanwhile, Colet and Jhoanna had quietly gone halves on a gift of their own—a simple wooden cross bracelet for Aiah.

“Ikaw ’yung may crush, pero ba’t may ambag din ako?” Jhoanna whined when they paid, and Colet answered by pinching her arm.

Aiah had been wearing it since then.

Colet offered to bring her to the bus terminal. Aiah would still have to travel back to the city before heading to the airport.

Aiah had already cried her goodbye to her lola the night before. Now, it was just a tight embrace.

“Bumalik ka, nak, ha?”

“Opo, ’La,” Aiah said softly. “Take care po kayo.”

Colet helped load her bags onto the tricycle.

“Magtatayo ka na ba ng grocery doon?” she huffed as she lifted one of them onto the roof.

Colet rode behind the driver while Aiah settled into the sidecar, holding onto the rest of her bags. She breathed in deeply—the fresh provincial air, the familiar bump of the road shaking her gently along.

At the bus terminal, Colet helped her again, lifting her luggage into the cargo bay. They sat on a nearby bench while they waited, chatting idly—about Christmas, about their families, about nothing and everything.

“Dalawin mo naman si Lola minsan,” Aiah said.

“Oo naman,” Colet replied easily.

When the conductor announced the bus’s departure, they both stood.

“Ingat ka sa biyahe,” Colet said.

“Thank you,” Aiah smiled. “For everything.”

They hugged—tight. 

“Ah—eto pala,” Colet said, handing her a brown paper bag. “Baon mo sa biyahe.”

“Wow,” Aiah laughed softly. “May pabaon pa.”

“Malayo pa ’yung siyudad. Baka gutumin ka.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay,” Colet said finally. “Go na. Baka maiwan ka pa.”

Aiah smiled. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Sakay na po!” the conductor called again.

So Aiah stepped away and boarded the bus. She took a window seat and saw Colet still standing there. When the engine rumbled to life, Colet waved, smiling brightly.

Aiah waved back.

As the bus pulled away, Aiah settled into her seat, pulling on her jacket and slipping on her headphones. She felt the warmth of the paper bag on her lap and opened it.

Inside was a bibingka, wrapped in banana leaf—still warm, slightly charred at the edges, grated cheese melted on top.

Beside it was a note.

        Mas masarap nga pag may keso
        pero mas masarap siguro.....

        pag makasama kita ulit.

        Cheesy ba?

        Sa pagbalik mo.

        —C.