Call Me When You're Awake

The first voice note Maraiah deleted was about a pigeon.

It had landed on the narrow metal ledge outside their kitchen window while she was making coffee at five-twenty in the morning, fat and gray and completely unbothered by the rain. Maraiah had been standing there in one sock, waiting for the kettle to finish, when the pigeon looked through the glass and pecked twice as if it had come to collect rent.

She grabbed her phone immediately.

“Baby, may bisita tayo. I think landlord siya. Ang sama tumingin.” She turned the camera toward the window even though the voice note would not show anything. “Wait, bakit ko vino-voice note, picture dapat. Anyway, ang taba niya. Parang ikaw after samgyup.”

The pigeon pecked again.

“Hoy, huwag kang demanding. Wala kaming tinapay.”

Behind her, the bedroom door stayed closed. Aubrey had come home after two and fallen asleep without removing one earring. Maraiah had found her sitting on the edge of the bed with her phone still in her hand, eyes already shut, and had taken the earring out before it got caught in the pillowcase. Three hours later, the apartment still smelled faintly of Aubrey’s perfume and rainwater from the blazer she had hung near the door.

Maraiah looked at the recording timer. Forty-three seconds.

She could send it. Aubrey would listen when she woke, probably around noon, and reply with something about charging the pigeon utilities. By then the bird would be gone. The rain might stop. Maraiah would be in her fourth meeting and would have forgotten the exact way it had stared at her.

She pressed delete.

The kettle clicked. The pigeon flew away before the coffee finished dripping.

At five-forty, Maraiah left a different message.

“Good night, baby. May rice sa cooker. Yung chicken sa blue container safe. Yung black, huwag. Hindi ko na maalala kailan natin niluto. Call me when you’re awake. Love you.”

That one she sent.

Aubrey reacted with a heart six hours later, then sent a photo from the bathroom mirror. Her hair was standing on one side, and there was toothpaste at the corner of her mouth.

Aubrey: alive

Maraiah: barely

Aubrey: your girlfriend is beautiful in the morning

Maraiah: wipe your mouth first

Aubrey: come here

Maraiah was in a video call. She kept her face still while the client explained that the dashboard felt “too organized,” which was apparently a problem now.

Maraiah: working

Aubrey: i know

Aubrey: flirt lang ako habang may witnesses

Maraiah put her phone face down because she could feel herself smiling.

By the time her meeting ended, Aubrey had left for the office. A sticky note waited on the laptop.

Milk. Please. Ininom mo lahat.

Underneath, in smaller writing:

Also miss kita. Pero milk muna.

Maraiah took a photo and sent it.

Maraiah: ikaw umubos

Aubrey: fake news

Maraiah: brand?

Aubrey: yung gusto ko

Maraiah: marami kang gusto

Aubrey did not answer for three hours. Maraiah bought the same brand anyway.

That evening, she fell asleep on the couch waiting for a build to finish. When Aubrey came home, the laptop was still open beside her and one hand was tucked beneath her cheek. Aubrey stood by the door for a while, carrying a paper bag of takeout and trying to decide whether waking Maraiah was selfish.

She set the food down, crouched beside the couch, and touched the back of one finger to Maraiah’s forehead.

Maraiah opened one eye. “What time?”

“Eleven-forty.”

“You said ten.”

“I know.” Aubrey glanced at the covered plate on the table. “You waited?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly. Aubrey looked at her but did not argue.

“May food ako,” Maraiah added, eyes closing again. “Initin mo.”

“Can you sit with me?”

“Brey.”

“Kahit habang kumakain lang.” Aubrey sounded tired enough that the request lost its usual playfulness. “Hindi pa kita nakita today.”

Maraiah stayed still for a few seconds. Her alarm would ring before five. She had already slept badly the night before because Aubrey came home late and spent fifteen minutes searching for a charger that was inside her own bag.

“Ten minutes,” Maraiah said.

Aubrey nodded. “Sige.”

“Actual ten.”

“Actual.”

Maraiah sat up and immediately leaned against Aubrey when the room shifted. Aubrey kissed the side of her head and kept one arm around her as they walked to the table.

The microwave heated the sauce but left the rice cold in the middle. Aubrey stirred it with a fork, tasted one grain, and made a face.

“Microwave natin galit sa akin.”

“Lower your voice.”

“Sorry.” Aubrey pushed a spoon toward Maraiah. “Tikman mo.”

“I cooked that.”

“Malay mo nagbago overnight.”

Maraiah took one bite because arguing required more energy. Aubrey watched her chew.

“Okay?”

“Same adobo.”

Aubrey smiled. “Good.”

They did not talk about work. Aubrey ate. Maraiah rested her chin on one hand and watched the kitchen clock. At twelve-ten, Aubrey stopped halfway through the last bite.

“Ten minutes na.”

Maraiah blinked at her. “Wow.”

“You said actual.” Aubrey rinsed the plate, left a streak of sauce on the edge, and came back before Maraiah could point it out. “Tulog ka na.”

In the bedroom, Aubrey pulled the blanket over her, tucked the loose edge beneath Maraiah’s shoulder, and bent to kiss her good night. Maraiah caught the front of her blouse before she could straighten.

“Sandali.”

Aubrey stayed bent over her, one hand pressed into the mattress. Maraiah kissed her again, properly this time. She tasted the adobo Aubrey had reheated and the coffee she had no business drinking that late. Aubrey’s mouth curved against hers, but Maraiah tugged her closer before she could turn it into a joke.

When they separated, Aubrey brushed her thumb over the sleep crease on Maraiah’s cheek. “Tulog na.”

“Wake me at five-fifteen?”

Aubrey paused. “Presentation?”

Maraiah nodded. Asking had become easier since the laundromat, the sink, the soup, the notebook. It had not become effortless. She still looked down when the thing mattered.

“And stay until I leave?” she added.

Aubrey did not answer immediately. She checked the clock, then opened her calendar. Maraiah watched her scroll.

“I have to send one deck,” Aubrey said. “I can finish by four-thirty. Five-fifteen, coffee, then I stay until your call starts.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

Maraiah loosened her grip on Aubrey’s blouse. “Okay.”

At five-fourteen, she woke to the smell of coffee and Aubrey’s fingers moving through her hair.

“Baby. Five-fifteen.”

Maraiah blinked. “You didn’t sleep?”

“Twenty minutes lang sana. Baka hindi ako magising.” Aubrey held out Maraiah’s mug.

“You used that earlier.”

“Hinugasan ko.”

“You have two mugs.”

“I don’t like them.”

“You chose them.”

Aubrey shrugged. “Mali ako.”

She stayed while Maraiah changed blouses twice, listened to the first minute of the presentation, and fixed the collar of the blue top without being asked. At five-fifty-seven, two client names appeared in the meeting room.

Maraiah rubbed her palms against her trousers. “Can you tell me I’m good at this?”

Aubrey took both her hands. “You’re good at this.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

“How sure?”

Aubrey looked at her for a moment, then smiled. “Power-bank-in-a-brownout sure.”

Maraiah laughed, and some of the tightness left her shoulders.

“Go,” Aubrey said. “Baka isipin ng client wala kang trabaho.”

The presentation went well. When Maraiah came out of the call an hour later, Aubrey was asleep on the couch with the blanket covering only one leg. A note rested on the laptop.

Ginising kita. Nag-coffee ka. Buhay ka. Proud ako sa sarili ko.

Maraiah wrote beneath it:

Proud din ako. Still pala-request.

She covered Aubrey properly and kissed the top of her head.

That morning stayed with Maraiah because it had happened while she was still scared. Aubrey had been there before the feeling could become a story she told later.

For a while, they kept finding each other that way.

Not every day. Some days were only messages and leftovers. But there were enough small overlaps to make the new schedule feel temporary. A hand around Maraiah’s waist while she made coffee. Aubrey lying across her lap for seven minutes before leaving. Maraiah standing in the bathroom doorway while Aubrey did eyeliner and complained about a client. They learned to steal time without calling it stealing.

On Sundays, they protected lunch.

Aubrey usually had reports waiting by late afternoon, and Maraiah liked planning her week before Monday could arrive without permission. From eleven until three, however, work chats stayed closed. They cooked, did laundry, and argued over things that did not deserve the amount of energy they gave them.

One Sunday, Aubrey decided she could make kare-kare from scratch.

Maraiah found her in the kitchen at ten, watching a recipe video with the phone propped against a jar of crunchy peanut butter.

“Why crunchy?” Maraiah asked.

Aubrey glanced at the jar. “Ito lang meron.”

“Then buy smooth.”

“Sayang.”

“Mas sayang pag pangit.”

Aubrey turned the volume up and pretended not to hear her.

Maraiah leaned over the counter. The sitaw had been cut too long. One piece of pechay was still tied with a rubber band. There was no bagoong anywhere.

“May bagoong tayo?”

Aubrey stopped chopping.

Maraiah opened the cabinet and found one jar with an expiry date from five months ago.

“You said kumpleto ingredients.”

“I thought meron.”

“Expired.”

“Bagoong doesn’t expire.”

“Food siya.”

“Salt siya.”

Maraiah held the jar up. “May buhok ata.”

Aubrey put the knife down. “Okay. Bili tayo bagoong.”

“Ikaw.”

“Cooking ako.”

“Exactly. Ikaw may kasalanan.”

Aubrey turned toward her, wooden spoon in hand. “Can you please buy bagoong? I’ll wash the dishes for one week.”

“You don’t wash properly.”

“Two weeks.”

Maraiah stared at her, then took the tote bag from the hook. “Rice?”

Aubrey looked toward the cooker.

The cooker was empty.

Maraiah closed her eyes. “Aubrey.”

“I was focused.”

“On what?”

Aubrey pointed at the pale sauce. “That.”

“Hindi pa nga kare-kare ’yan.”

“Give it time.”

Maraiah opened the packet of biscuits she had bought for herself the day before and ate one while Aubrey washed rice in a hurry.

“Don’t eat,” Aubrey said.

“Gutom na ako.”

“Malapit na.”

“Kanina ka pa malapit.”

Aubrey scraped the bottom of the pot. “Can you support me nang hindi ginagamit oras against me?”

Maraiah ate another biscuit and left for the store.

When she returned, the kitchen smelled strongly of peanuts and something slightly burned. Aubrey had opened the windows and moved the pot to a different burner as if relocation could erase evidence.

“Nasunog?”

“Hindi.”

“Amoy.”

“Garlic lang.”

“Nasunog yung garlic?”

Aubrey took the bagoong from her and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Rice is cooking.”

It took almost three hours. Aubrey kept adding water, then peanut butter, then more water because the peanut butter made the sauce too thick. Maraiah sat at the table pretending to work but mostly watching Aubrey panic quietly. Twice, Aubrey tasted the sauce and looked away before Maraiah could read her face.

When the kare-kare finally reached the table, it was grainy and much darker near the bottom than the top. Aubrey placed the bowl down and remained standing.

“Tikman mo.”

“You first.”

“I did.”

“And?”

Aubrey pulled out the chair across from her. “Tikman mo nga.”

Maraiah took one bite. She chewed carefully. Aubrey waited with both hands flat against the table.

“Okay,” Maraiah said.

“Okay lang?”

“It needs bagoong.”

“Everything needs bagoong.”

“Also rice.”

“May rice.”

“Then sit.”

Aubrey sat, still watching her. “Pangit?”

Maraiah looked at the bowl, then at Aubrey’s face. “Hindi pangit.”

“Baby.”

“Medyo... may texture.”

Aubrey groaned and covered her face. Maraiah started laughing. Aubrey tried to stay offended but laughed too, shoulders shaking until she had to lean against the table.

They ate the whole thing with too much bagoong. Aubrey moved the better pieces of meat onto Maraiah’s plate whenever Maraiah looked away. Maraiah noticed and did not mention it.

After lunch, Aubrey washed the dishes. Maraiah dried them beside her. The sink area was narrow, and their elbows kept meeting whenever Aubrey reached for another plate.

“You’re using too much soap,” Maraiah said.

Aubrey squeezed the bottle again.

“Sinadya mo.”

Aubrey rinsed the plate, smiling to herself. “Hindi.”

Maraiah stepped closer and took the sponge from her hand. “Move.”

“You said ako maghugas.”

“You’re making bubbles, hindi naghuhugas.”

Aubrey turned with water still running behind her. “Ang bossy mo talaga.”

Maraiah kissed her before she could finish.

Aubrey bumped the faucet with her elbow. Water struck the spoon in the sink and sprayed both of them. She laughed into Maraiah’s mouth, startled, and Maraiah almost pulled away to complain. Instead she caught Aubrey by the nape and kissed her again while the tap kept running.

Aubrey’s wet hand landed at Maraiah’s waist. A cold palm print spread through the thin shirt.

“Basa,” Maraiah murmured, though she was the one keeping Aubrey there.

“I know.” Aubrey reached behind them blindly and missed the faucet twice.

Maraiah laughed against her cheek. “Patayin mo muna.”

“Hindi ko mahanap.”

“Ang lapit lang.”

Aubrey finally twisted it shut. The kitchen went abruptly quiet except for both of them trying to catch their breath. Maraiah looked at her mouth again.

Aubrey noticed. “Ano?”

“Wala.” Maraiah pulled her back by the shirt.

Later, they lay on the couch with Aubrey’s head in Maraiah’s lap. The movie had been playing for twenty minutes, but neither could explain what was happening. Aubrey kept one hand around Maraiah’s wrist while Maraiah combed through her hair with her fingers.

“Can you stay tonight?” Aubrey asked.

Maraiah looked around the apartment. “I live here.”

“I mean stay stay.” Aubrey’s eyes remained on the television. “No laptop in bed. No planner. Kahit today lang.”

Maraiah had two reports to prepare, neither due until Monday noon. She checked the time.

“I need thirty minutes after dinner.”

“Okay.”

“Seven-thirty, close na.”

Aubrey nodded and turned her face toward Maraiah’s stomach. “Scratch ulit.”

“Demanding.”

“Please.”

Maraiah’s fingers returned to her hair.

At seven-twenty-eight, Maraiah saved the file and closed the laptop. Aubrey had arranged pillows on the couch and placed chips, chocolate, and two glasses of water on the coffee table. She looked up when Maraiah came in.

“Done?”

“Done.”

Aubrey lifted the blanket. Maraiah sat beside her and was immediately pulled close, Aubrey’s face tucked beneath her chin.

“Miss kita,” Aubrey said.

“Maghapon tayo magkasama.”

“I know.”

Maraiah kissed her hair.

The next day, Aubrey forgot to call.

Maraiah had asked the night before while Aubrey lay half-asleep on her lap.

“Call me after review?”

Aubrey said yes without opening her eyes.

The review was supposed to end at eight. At eight-forty, Aubrey messaged that the client had joined. At nine-twenty, she said they were almost done. Maraiah placed her phone beside the pillow and read until the words stopped entering her head.

She woke at five-twelve with the phone beneath her cheek.

No missed call.

Aubrey’s side of the bed was empty. Her location still showed the office.

Maraiah typed, you didn’t call, then deleted it. She showered, made coffee, and joined her first meeting. At six-oh-three, Aubrey sent:

Aubrey: shit baby sorry. i forgot

A second message followed.

Aubrey: are you awake?

Maraiah stared at it while the client entered the room.

Maraiah: meeting now

Aubrey: call after?

Maraiah started to type yes. She stopped.

Maraiah: maybe

Aubrey arrived home at eight-thirty, just as Maraiah was buttering toast between calls. She entered the kitchen without changing and wrapped both arms around Maraiah from behind.

“Sorry,” she said into Maraiah’s shoulder.

“You’re cold.”

“Office.” Aubrey kissed the side of her neck. “I really forgot.”

Maraiah spread butter to the edge of the bread. “I know.”

“I wanted to call.”

Maraiah set the knife down. “That’s not the same.”

Aubrey loosened her arms. Maraiah could feel the hurt before she turned around. Aubrey’s makeup had faded near her eyes. A thread hung from one sleeve.

“I know,” Aubrey said.

Maraiah looked at the clock. Two minutes before her next meeting.

“I have to go.”

“Can I make it up tonight?”

“How?”

“Dinner. I’ll be home by nine.”

Maraiah looked at her. “Check.”

Aubrey opened the calendar, scrolled, then showed the screen. “Review ends eight. Forty minutes travel. Nine.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

At nine-fifteen, the doorbell rang. A rider handed Maraiah two containers from their favorite restaurant. Aubrey had added a note.

Start without me. Fifteen minutes.

Maraiah sent a photo of it.

Maraiah: where are you?

Aubrey replied seven minutes later.

Aubrey: office pa. leaving soon

Maraiah looked at the closed second container. The sauce inside would be thickening against the plastic.

Maraiah: you said nine

The typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then returned.

Aubrey: i know. before ten. sorry

Maraiah ate alone. At ten-forty-three, she put Aubrey’s food in the refrigerator and went to bed.

Aubrey came home after midnight. Maraiah heard the key, the refrigerator, the microwave, and a soft curse when Aubrey touched the overheated container. She kept her eyes closed when Aubrey entered the bedroom.

“Baby.”

Maraiah did not answer.

Aubrey changed in the dark and slid beneath the blanket. She curled against Maraiah’s back carefully, leaving space between their knees.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

Maraiah stared at the wall. After a while, she covered Aubrey’s hand with her own. They fell asleep without deciding what that meant.

The next morning, a sticky note waited beside Maraiah’s laptop.

I owe you dinner. Sorry.

Maraiah folded it once and placed it in the drawer with the other notes.

*

The bad day came on a Wednesday.

Nothing catastrophic happened. That was part of the problem. There was no single event large enough to justify calling Aubrey away from work, only a series of small humiliations that collected faster than Maraiah could shake them off.

A client criticized a presentation she had spent hours preparing, then praised the revised version after another teammate repeated the same recommendation Maraiah had made in the first place. Her internet disconnected while she was sharing her screen. She spilled coffee across a notebook and lost three pages of handwritten notes. At four in the afternoon, her mother called and asked whether she had considered applying for something more stable, using the careful voice parents used when they wanted to worry about your life without admitting they did not understand it.

By four-thirty, Maraiah was sitting at the table with the damp notebook open beside her and an email she could no longer read properly.

She pressed record.

“Baby, bad day. Hindi naman major, pero...” She looked at the stain spreading through the paper. “Naalala mo yung presentation na ilang gabi ko ginawa? Sinabi nung client na hindi clear, tapos sinabi ni Carlo exactly yung sinabi ko last week and suddenly brilliant siya. Tapos tumawag si Mama.”

Maraiah stopped. She had already spoken for a minute and seventeen seconds. Aubrey was in review until five. Maraiah pictured her listening inside an elevator later, tired and walking toward another meeting.

She deleted the recording and sent two words instead.

Maraiah: bad day

Aubrey reacted with a sad face almost immediately.

Aubrey: call?

Maraiah: can you?

Aubrey: in 10. review lang

Maraiah wiped the notebook with tissue even though the coffee had already entered the paper.

Maraiah: okay

Ten minutes passed. At fifteen, Aubrey sent:

Aubrey: client joined. 20 mins? sorry

Maraiah: okay

Twenty became forty-five. Maraiah closed the laptop and lay on the couch. She tried recording again.

“Okay, second attempt. Hindi ko alam saan magsisimula.”

She listened to herself breathe for four seconds, then deleted that one too.

At five-thirty, the doorbell rang.

A rider stood outside holding a paper bag from the lugaw place near Aubrey’s office. Inside was arroz caldo with extra egg, tokwa’t baboy, bottled water, and a small chocolate cake. Aubrey had added a note to the order.

Bad day medicine. Eat first. Call in a bit. Love you.

Maraiah smiled before she could stop herself. The care was precise. Aubrey remembered the extra egg and the cake Maraiah had mentioned once months ago. She took a photo.

Maraiah: thank you

Aubrey: eat pls. still stuck here

Maraiah opened the lugaw. Steam fogged her glasses.

Maraiah: are you still calling?

The message remained unread for eighteen minutes.

Aubrey: yes baby. after this

Maraiah ate slowly. At six-thirty, the lugaw had cooled. At seven, the cake remained unopened. Her phone stayed face-up beside the bowl.

At eight-oh-three, Aubrey finally messaged.

Aubrey: baby sorry. still here. call when i get out?

By then the anger had thinned into a headache behind Maraiah’s eyes. The presentation no longer felt worth recounting from the beginning. Her mother’s question had become another thing she could explain without feeling it.

Maraiah: matutulog na ako

Aubrey: call me when you're awake?

Maraiah turned the phone over.

Aubrey came home after midnight and found her asleep on the couch. In the morning, a voice note waited.

“Baby, sorry. I got home late. I didn’t wake you. I hope the lugaw helped. Tell me what happened when you’re awake, okay? I love you.”

Maraiah listened while putting concealer under her eyes. She started recording a reply.

“Yung client...”

She stopped. Yesterday already felt far away.

“Okay na,” she said on the second try. “Thank you sa food. Love you.”

Aubrey reacted with a heart when she woke. She did not ask again.

The voice note Maraiah had first recorded remained nowhere. Deleted files did not leave evidence unless someone looked for them.

After that, she began keeping the stories in smaller containers.

A funny client message became a screenshot without context. A difficult call became tired today. A family problem became talked to Mama. She still told Aubrey things, but she waited until the feeling had cooled enough to handle without the person who had caused none of it.

Their relationship did not suddenly become unhappy.

Three days after the lugaw, Aubrey wore one of Maraiah’s white work blouses because she had forgotten to pick up her laundry. She sent a mirror photo before leaving.

Aubrey: borrowed

Maraiah zoomed in.

Maraiah: lipstick sa collar

Aubrey: maliit lang

Maraiah: white blouse yan

Aubrey: sorry baby

Maraiah: dry cleaning 250

Aubrey: babayaran ko

When Aubrey came home, Maraiah made her stand in the bathroom while she rubbed stain remover into the collar.

“Ang diin,” Aubrey complained.

“Hindi matanggal.”

“You like the color.”

“On your mouth.” Maraiah looked up before realizing what she had said.

Aubrey leaned against the sink. “Pwede ibalik.”

Maraiah rolled her eyes but smiled. “Take the blouse off.”

Aubrey raised both eyebrows.

“The blouse, Aubrey.”

“I know.”

She removed it and stood there in a camisole while Maraiah soaked the collar. When Maraiah turned to reach for another towel, Aubrey caught her by the wrist.

“Galit ka pa?” Aubrey asked.

Maraiah pressed the stained collar beneath the water. “Two hundred fifty.”

“Babayaran ko nga.”

“Hindi pera yung point.”

Aubrey watched her for a second. “Yung blouse?”

“Yung hindi ka nagpapaalam.”

The playfulness left Aubrey’s face. “Sorry.”

Maraiah kept rubbing the same spot until Aubrey reached over and closed her hand around Maraiah’s wrist, gently this time. “Masisira mo.”

Maraiah let go of the fabric. Aubrey did not release her wrist.

“Pwede?” she asked, looking at Maraiah’s mouth.

Maraiah should have made her wait longer. Instead she stepped into the space between Aubrey and the sink. Their first kiss was still edged with annoyance; Maraiah could feel it in the way she held Aubrey’s jaw, in the small breath Aubrey took before kissing her back more carefully. The stain remover smelled sharp between them. Water dripped from Maraiah’s fingers onto Aubrey’s bare shoulder.

When Aubrey tried to deepen it, Maraiah pulled back. “Bayad ka pa rin.”

“Alam ko.”

Maraiah kissed her once more anyway. The blouse remained in the sink until morning.

A week later, Aubrey had a bad day of her own.

Maraiah knew before Aubrey told her because their shared location still showed the office at ten-forty and because Aubrey had not sent a single complaint in four hours. Silence from Aubrey was never neutral. It meant she was asleep, angry, or trying to keep something from becoming real by refusing to name it.

Maraiah called. Aubrey rejected it.

Maraiah: okay ka?

Aubrey: yes. busy lang

Maraiah: sure?

Aubrey: yes baby. call you later

Maraiah looked at later for a long time.

At eleven-fifteen, she recorded a voice note from bed.

“Hi. I’m going to sleep. I know you said okay ka, pero hindi normal na four hours kang walang reklamo. May food sa ref. Please eat. Call me when you’re awake, or don’t call, just tell me safe ka. Love you.”

Aubrey listened at one-twenty while sitting alone in the parking garage beneath the office. The campaign budget had been cut after her team completed most of the work. Her manager had said they needed to find efficiencies, which sounded clean until Aubrey realized it meant deciding whose paid hours could disappear. Her mother had also messaged about a hospital bill for an aunt, followed by Okay lang if hindi kaya, anak, which did not mean okay at all.

She played Maraiah’s note twice, then pressed record.

“I’m safe. Sorry. Ayoko magsalita kasi baka umiyak ako and nasa parking ako.” Her laugh broke immediately. “Bad day. Hindi ko alam paano ko sasabihin sa team yung budget. Tapos may kailangan sa bahay. Parang every time stable na, may bago na naman.”

She stopped recording, wiped her face, then started another one.

“Can you wake me before work? Kahit five minutes lang. I know maaga. I just...”

Aubrey let the sentence trail and sent it that way.

Maraiah woke at four-forty to her alarm and saw the messages. Aubrey’s shoes were near the door, one lying on its side. Her bag had been dropped beside the couch. The bedroom was empty.

She found Aubrey asleep in the living room with one arm across her eyes and the phone still held loosely in her other hand.

“Brey.”

Aubrey moved but did not wake.

“Baby.”

Her eyes opened. Fear appeared for one second before recognition caught up.

“Hi,” Maraiah said.

“What time?”

“Four-fifty.”

“Your work.”

“I know.”

“Sorry.”

“You asked me to wake you.” Maraiah sat on the floor beside the couch. “Come here.”

Aubrey turned toward her and pressed her forehead to Maraiah’s shoulder. Her face folded before she could hide it. Maraiah held her carefully, one hand at the back of her neck, the other across her upper back.

For several minutes, Aubrey cried without explaining. Maraiah did not ask about the manager or how much the hospital bill was. She rubbed slow circles between Aubrey’s shoulder blades and said, “I’m here,” when Aubrey’s breathing became uneven.

At four-fifty-eight, Maraiah’s phone vibrated with a meeting reminder.

Aubrey pulled away first. “Go.”

“I can be late.”

“No. You have the Australian people.” She wiped her face and tried to smile. “I asked for five. Eight na.”

“They’ll survive.”

“Don’t make me the reason.”

Maraiah looked at her. “Sleep in the bed.”

Aubrey nodded.

“Call your mom before you send money.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to send everything habang emotional.”

Aubrey gave a wet laugh. “True.”

“And tell me what happened after my shift.”

“I will.”

Maraiah hesitated. “Can you?”

Aubrey picked up her phone. “I’m not going in today. Message ko manager now.”

Maraiah watched her send it before she stood.

At the hallway, Aubrey called her name.

“Maraiah.”

She turned.

“Thank you for waking me.”

“You asked.”

The client survived Maraiah joining six minutes late.

Aubrey slept until noon. They talked that evening while folding laundry on the bed. Aubrey sat cross-legged with a shirt in her lap, repeatedly forgetting whether it belonged in the closet or the drawer.

“Diyan,” Maraiah said, pointing at the drawer.

Aubrey placed the shirt in the closet.

“Drawer.”

“I heard you.”

“Then why closet?”

Aubrey stared at the shirt as if it had moved on its own. Maraiah reached over and took it from her.

“Sorry,” Aubrey said. “Wala talaga ako today.”

Maraiah folded the shirt again. “Tell me from the start.”

“I told you.”

“Hindi. Yung budget.”

Aubrey rubbed her palms over her knees. “Paulit-ulit na.”

“Okay lang.”

Aubrey looked at her. “Baka ma-bore ka.”

Maraiah put the shirt down. “Hindi ako nagmamadali. Sabihin mo lang.”

So Aubrey did. She started with the budget, moved to her mother’s message, went backward to the meeting, then stopped halfway because she could not remember what she had already said. Maraiah waited. When Aubrey apologized for repeating herself, Maraiah shook her head and touched her knee.

A client called twenty-three minutes later. Aubrey stared at the name until the ringing stopped.

“You’re not answering?” Maraiah asked.

“Leave ako.”

“They might need you.”

“May ibang tao.” Aubrey placed the phone under a pillow. “Saan na ko?”

Maraiah reminded her.

By the time the laundry basket was empty, Aubrey had fallen asleep with her head in Maraiah’s lap and a half-folded shirt beneath one cheek. Maraiah took a picture and kept it in her camera roll.

She did not turn it into a message.

*

They bought the new table three months after first discussing it.

The old one barely fit two laptops. Every time Maraiah sent a link, Aubrey found something wrong with it.

Aubrey: parang conference room

Maraiah: table lang yan

Aubrey: pagod na ko sa table na may trabaho

Maraiah: saan ka kakain

Aubrey: sa lap mo

Maraiah ignored that message and sent another link.

They agreed to meet at a furniture store on Saturday at two. Maraiah arrived exactly at two because Aubrey said two. At two-ten, Aubrey messaged that she was leaving. At two-forty, the shared location still showed the office.

Maraiah walked through three display bedrooms, tested six chairs, and bought biscuits from the store café because she had skipped lunch to arrive on time. Aubrey came at three-twelve carrying two iced coffees. One side of her blouse was untucked. A red mark crossed her wrist from the drink carrier.

“Sorry,” Aubrey said before reaching her. “Tumawag client.”

Maraiah accepted the coffee but did not drink it.

“Akala ko mabilis,” Aubrey added.

“You said leaving.”

“I was about to.”

“You were still upstairs.”

Aubrey looked toward the store entrance. “Tuloy pa ba tayo?”

“Andito na tayo.”

“Galit ka?”

“Oo.”

Aubrey nodded once. “Sige. Ako magtutulak.”

They entered without pretending the coffee had fixed anything.

Aubrey wanted a round table because rectangular ones reminded her of meetings. Maraiah wanted rectangular because they both used laptops and Aubrey owned three monitors.

“Bakit tatlo?” Maraiah asked while measuring one display table.

“Work.”

“You use two.”

“Yung isa backup.”

“Hindi mo nga matapon yung keyboard na wala nang N.”

Aubrey took the tape measure from her. “Baby, first keyboard ko ’yon. Doon ko tinype yung resignation letter na hindi ko rin sinend.”

“Exactly. Hindi mo ginamit.”

“May pinagsamahan kami.”

Maraiah looked at her, then laughed despite herself. Aubrey’s shoulders loosened, but she did not act as if that meant the anger was gone.

They bought a rectangular table. Aubrey chose the chairs because she spent ten minutes sitting on each one and said her back had opinions. By the time they carried the flat-packed boxes home, Maraiah was less angry and more tired.

Assembly took three hours. Aubrey read the instructions upside down, handed Maraiah the wrong screws twice, then lay beneath the half-built frame and claimed she was checking stability.

“Tumayo ka,” Maraiah said.

“Masakit likod ko.”

“Wala kang ginawa.”

“Emotional support.”

Maraiah nudged her leg with one foot. Aubrey caught her ankle and held it.

“Let go.”

“Galit ka pa?”

“Medyo.”

“Okay.” Aubrey released her and sat up. “Ano gagawin ko?”

“Hold this.”

Aubrey held the table leg while Maraiah tightened the screw.

They finished near midnight. Maraiah sat on the floor and leaned against the couch. Aubrey settled beside her, shoulder touching hers.

“We should use it together,” Maraiah said.

Aubrey looked at the finished table. “After launch?”

“When is that?”

“Three weeks.”

Maraiah nodded. “Okay.”

Aubrey kissed her cheek. “I mean it.”

Maraiah did not answer.

The following morning, Maraiah worked at the new table while Aubrey slept. That afternoon, Aubrey worked there while Maraiah napped. On Monday night, both sat there for twenty minutes before Aubrey joined a call and Maraiah moved to the bedroom because the client kept saying circle back loud enough to enter her thoughts.

The weeks before launch filled with small changes to plans.

Aubrey said ten, then messaged at nine-fifty that the team was still revising. She said they could eat together after, then sent food because the office ordered dinner. She said she would call, then sent a voice note the next morning beginning with, “Don’t be mad.”

Nothing about them looked broken. Aubrey brought coffee on mornings they crossed paths. Maraiah ironed her blouses while complaining that a thirty-year-old woman should understand steam. They kissed in the kitchen, fought over the blanket, and sent each other photos of the rice cooker whenever someone forgot the rice.

Maraiah began adjusting before Aubrey asked.

If Aubrey said ten, Maraiah did not cook until she saw the location moving away from the office. If Aubrey said she would call, Maraiah kept the phone nearby but no longer stayed awake past midnight. When something happened, Maraiah sometimes recorded the complete version because talking into the phone was easier than waiting.

Then she listened before sending.

A client victory that lasted two minutes became, “Presentation went okay.”

A ridiculous story about a teammate sharing the wrong screen became a screenshot and ask me later.

A fight with her mother became nothing.

At first, she still ended with the same request.

“Call me when you’re awake. I have more chismis.”

“Call me after your meeting.”

“Call me when you’re awake. Miss you.”

Then the endings changed.

“Your shirts are on the chair. Love you.”

“Presentation went okay. Good luck today.”

“Your mom called. Call her when you can.”

The notes became tidy. No loose question at the end. Nothing Aubrey had to return to.

Aubrey noticed in the back of a car on a Tuesday night.

She had spent the ride listening to Maraiah’s messages from the week. The most recent one lasted twenty-six seconds.

“Hi, baby. Going to sleep. Clean shirts are on the chair. Don’t wear the white blouse, may stain pa. Good luck tomorrow. Love you.”

The recording ended.

Aubrey replayed it, thinking she had missed something. Then she scrolled upward. Three days. Five. Eight.

The last call me when you’re awake was the night of the lugaw.

She called.

Maraiah answered after four rings. Typing clicked in the background.

“Hello?”

“Busy ka?”

“Finishing something.”

Aubrey looked out the car window. “You don’t ask me to call anymore.”

The typing stopped.

“Maraiah?”

“I don’t know.”

“You used to.”

“I know.”

“Did I do something?”

Maraiah breathed out. “Brey.”

“What?”

“You know.”

“I think I do. Pero...” Aubrey rubbed her forehead. “Tell me.”

There was a short silence.

“You don’t call,” Maraiah said.

“I do.” Aubrey heard the defensiveness and closed her eyes. “Sometimes. I know.”

“I got tired of asking.”

Aubrey looked down at her hands. “I say yes because gusto ko.”

“I know.”

“I really do.”

“I know, Brey.”

“Then why does it sound like hindi mo ko pinapaniwalaan?”

Maraiah did not answer immediately. When she did, her voice was softer. “I believe you want to. Hindi ko lang alam if mangyayari.”

The car turned into their street.

“I’ll be home in five,” Aubrey said.

“Okay.”

“Can we talk?”

“I have work.”

“After?”

Maraiah paused. “Tingnan natin pagdating mo.”

Aubrey spent the rest of the ride staring at the chat. Maraiah had not said no. She had only stopped giving time before knowing whether she had any.

At home, Maraiah sat at the new table with the laptop open. Aubrey removed her shoes, put her bag down, and stayed near the kitchen.

“Hi.”

Maraiah looked up. “Hi.”

“May ten minutes ka?”

“Actual?”

Aubrey felt the question. “Yes. Actual. Ikaw?”

Maraiah checked the clock, then closed the laptop halfway. “Ten.”

Aubrey sat across from her. For a moment, neither spoke.

“I didn’t notice,” Aubrey said.

“That’s why I stopped.”

“I thought you were less stressed.”

“I was saying less.”

Aubrey rubbed her thumb along the table edge. “Ayoko tumigil ka.”

“Ayoko maghintay.”

“I want to do better.” Aubrey stopped, frustrated with herself. “Ayoko na naman mangako tapos hindi ko magawa.”

“Then don’t promise.”

“Eh anong sasabihin ko?”

“Yung totoo.”

Aubrey looked down. “Minsan hindi ko alam kung makakaalis ako hanggang nandun na.”

“Then sabihin mo hindi mo alam.”

“Malulungkot ka.”

“Malulungkot naman ako pag hindi ka dumating.”

Aubrey pressed her lips together.

Maraiah reopened the laptop. “I need to finish.”

“Can I sit here?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Aubrey remained in the chair. “Miss kita.”

Maraiah looked at her for a second, then turned back to the screen. “Don’t talk.”

Aubrey stayed quiet.

At ten minutes, she stood.

“I’m going to shower, then sleep.”

Maraiah looked up, surprised.

“What?” Aubrey asked.

“Nothing.”

“I want to ask you to stay awake,” Aubrey admitted. “Pero pagod ka.”

Maraiah’s face softened and then closed again. “Good night.”

Aubrey kissed the top of her head. “Good night.”

In the shower, Aubrey thought about all the times she had made Maraiah laugh before Maraiah could finish being hurt. She could not decide whether that had been kindness or escape.

*

For the next few days, Aubrey checked her calendar before answering even simple questions. Sometimes so obviously that Maraiah had to look away so she would not smile.

“Can you call after review?” Maraiah asked one afternoon.

Aubrey opened the agenda on her phone. “Hindi tonight. May client dinner after.”

Maraiah’s face changed before she could hide it.

“Tomorrow lunch?” Aubrey asked.

“What time?”

“One-thirty.” She checked again. “One-thirty kaya ko.”

Maraiah nodded. “Okay.”

The disappointment remained in her voice. Aubrey nearly changed the answer. Yes waited at the back of her mouth, ready to make Maraiah feel better for the next few hours.

She did not say it.

The next day, she called at one-twenty-nine.

Maraiah answered on the first ring. “You’re early.”

“I know.”

They spent eighteen minutes discussing a teammate who had shared the wrong screen during a client call and exposed a browser tab titled resignation letter final final 2. Maraiah laughed while explaining how everyone had pretended not to see it. Aubrey interrupted because she kept losing track of which manager was Paolo.

Before hanging up, Maraiah said, “Thank you.”

Aubrey leaned against the hallway wall outside her office. “I said I would.”

“You did.”

The sentence warmed her more than it should have.

A week later, she failed again.

Maraiah asked her to come home by ten because they had not eaten together in four days. Aubrey checked the schedule, saw the review ending at nine, and said she could. At nine-thirty, the client requested another round. At nine-forty-five, Aubrey still believed she would leave in fifteen minutes.

At ten-ten, she sent:

Aubrey: leaving soon baby

At ten-fifty, Maraiah replied:

Maraiah: don’t rush. sleeping na

Aubrey called. Maraiah did not answer.

When Aubrey came home, dinner waited inside the refrigerator with no note. She ate standing at the counter because sitting at the table alone felt like pretending she had made it on time.

In bed, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Maraiah kept her back turned. “I know.”

“I really thought makakaalis ako.”

“I know.”

“I should’ve told you earlier.”

“Yes.”

Aubrey waited for Maraiah to add something kinder. Maraiah did not. Her breathing slowly evened out. Aubrey stayed awake beside her, staring at the back of the shirt she had borrowed often enough to think of as partly hers.

The next morning, Maraiah made coffee for both of them. Aubrey washed the mugs. Neither mentioned dinner. By noon they were sending each other memes again. That evening, Aubrey kissed Maraiah in the elevator, and Maraiah kissed her back.

The missed meal did not disappear. It sat beneath everything that still worked.

One Tuesday, Aubrey left the office early because a client canceled a review. She did not tell Maraiah. The surprise felt small enough to be safe.

She reached the apartment at six-thirty carrying flowers from a sidewalk vendor and two cups of taho that had already begun separating inside the plastic. Maraiah was at the new table wearing headphones, laughing at something on a video call.

Aubrey stopped near the door.

The laugh was loud and unguarded. Maraiah leaned toward the screen with one hand over her mouth, trying and failing to recover. Several faces appeared in small boxes. Someone said something else, and Maraiah laughed again.

Aubrey could not remember the last time she had heard that laugh in person without being the one who caused it.

Maraiah noticed her and blinked. “Wait,” she told the call, then muted herself. “You’re home.”

“Canceled review.” Aubrey lifted the flowers awkwardly. “And taho. Pero baka tubig na.”

Maraiah removed one side of the headphones. “Cute. Thank you.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“My team. Wala lang, tambay after work.”

Aubrey looked at the screen. A woman in one box waved when she realized Aubrey was there. Maraiah waved back and pointed at the mute icon.

“Are you almost done?” Aubrey asked.

“Maybe twenty minutes.” Maraiah looked at the taho. “Put it sa ref muna?”

“Sure.”

Aubrey found a vase for the flowers, poured water into it, then sat on the couch with her phone. She answered two emails, deleted both replies, and tried not to listen to Maraiah’s call.

She heard pieces anyway. A client who had used the word humanize six times in one meeting. Someone’s dog barking at a delivery rider. Maraiah telling a story about the pigeon from the kitchen window.

Aubrey looked up.

“Ang taba daw,” Maraiah said to her teammates, laughing. “Tapos tumingin sa akin like may utang ako. I recorded a voice note for Aubrey, pero ang haba na, so dinelete ko.”

One teammate said something Aubrey could not hear. Maraiah smiled and continued.

The pigeon.

Aubrey had never heard about it.

The call ended forty minutes later. Maraiah closed the laptop and sat beside her.

“Sorry. Humaba.”

“No, okay lang.” Aubrey placed her phone down. “You told them about the pigeon.”

Maraiah frowned. “What pigeon?”

“Yung sa window.”

“Oh.” Maraiah smiled. “Nakakatawa kasi.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I was going to.”

“When?”

The question came out sharper than Aubrey intended. Maraiah’s smile faded.

“I don’t know. I recorded something that morning.”

“Why didn’t you send it?”

“Wala lang.”

Aubrey looked toward the flowers. “You tell me everything.”

Maraiah leaned back against the couch. “Not everything.”

The sentence should not have frightened Aubrey. It did.

“Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Are you mad?”

“No.”

“Then why—”

“Brey, pigeon lang.” Maraiah rubbed her forehead. “Hindi ko sinadyang itago. Na-delete ko. Tapos hindi na relevant when you woke up.”

Aubrey stared at the taho cups in the refrigerator through the open kitchen door. “Relevant sa kanila.”

“They were there when I remembered.”

Aubrey looked at her.

Maraiah realized what she had said. “I didn’t mean—”

“No. Gets.” Aubrey picked at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “Kailan ka nag-start mag-call with them?”

“Few weeks ago.”

“You never told me.”

“I was going to.”

Aubrey laughed once, but there was no humor in it. “Later?”

Maraiah’s face tightened.

“Sorry,” Aubrey said immediately. “Bad.”

They sat without touching. The taho continued cooling in the refrigerator. The flowers leaned too heavily to one side of the vase.

After a while, Maraiah said, “Sometimes I don’t know when to tell you.”

Aubrey did not answer.

“Pag uwi mo, pagod ka. Pag gising mo, paalis ka. Tapos pag ilang days na, parang weird na biglang sabihin, ‘By the way, may pigeon last Tuesday.’”

“You can still tell me.”

“I know.”

“Then tell me.”

Maraiah looked at her. “Right now?”

“Yeah.”

So Maraiah told the pigeon story again.

It was not as funny the second time. She could tell by the way Aubrey smiled at the correct places, a little too carefully. Halfway through, Maraiah lost the exact detail about the bird pecking the glass. She replaced it with something close.

When she finished, Aubrey kissed her temple.

“Cute,” Aubrey said.

Maraiah closed her eyes. “Hindi na.”

“What?”

“The story. Hindi na cute.”

Aubrey’s arm around her tightened. “Sorry.”

“Hindi mo kasalanan.”

That answer made them both quiet.

They drank the taho cold. It tasted wrong, but Aubrey refused to throw it away after carrying it all the way home. Maraiah ate the sago at the bottom with a spoon while Aubrey held the cup for her.

Later that night, Aubrey found Maraiah asleep with one hand still on the laptop. She took a photo, then stopped before sending it.

For once, she understood why someone might keep a moment to herself until it no longer knew where to go.

The next morning, Maraiah woke to a voice note.

“Good morning, baby. May flowers sa table, obviously. Taho was a mistake. Also, tell me something today habang nangyayari. Kahit boring. Kahit pigeon.”

Maraiah listened twice.

At eleven, she sent a photograph of the client chat where someone had typed defiantly instead of definitely three times.

Maraiah: happening now

Aubrey replied from a meeting.

Aubrey: thank you

Then, one minute later:

Aubrey: don't correct them yet. i want updates

Maraiah smiled and left the typo alone for another ten minutes.

Their second anniversary fell on a Friday.

Four months earlier, Maraiah had claimed the date on their shared calendar before work could get there first.

DO NOT ACCEPT MEETINGS. I AM SERIOUS.

Aubrey added:

Dinner. 7 PM. Girlfriend required.

For weeks, they talked about it like people discussing a trip they had already paid for.

“No gifts,” Aubrey said while brushing her teeth one night.

“You bought flowers last month.”

“Flowers don’t count.”

“They cost money.”

“Still.”

Maraiah looked at her in the mirror. “Fine.”

They both bought gifts.

Maraiah found Aubrey’s by accident because Aubrey used their shared delivery address and forgot Maraiah worked from home that day. The package arrived in a small box with the jewelry store’s name on one side.

Maraiah sent a photo.

Maraiah: no gifts?

Aubrey: work

Maraiah: jewelry is work?

Aubrey: research

Maraiah: liar

Aubrey: don’t open

Maraiah looked at the box in her hand.

Maraiah: i won’t

Aubrey’s gift was a leather card holder. She had picked it up twice in the same store and put it back both times because the old one “still worked,” even though two cards fell out whenever she opened it. Maraiah had Aubrey’s initials pressed inside where nobody else would see.

On Thursday night, she wrapped it at the table after Aubrey left for work. The first wrapping looked crooked. She redid it. The second had too much tape. She redid that too, then became annoyed with herself because Aubrey used gift bags and would not care about the corners.

At one-thirty in the morning, Aubrey climbed into bed beside her. Maraiah was awake, though she pretended otherwise until Aubrey’s cold foot touched her ankle.

“Ang lamig mo.”

“Sorry.” Aubrey pulled her foot away. “Gising ka?”

“Now.”

Aubrey moved closer. “Tonight. Seven.”

Maraiah looked at her in the dark. “Check.”

Aubrey reached for the phone and opened the calendar. “Last review ends five-thirty. I blocked six onward. Restaurant is fifteen minutes away.”

“What if may issue?”

Aubrey sighed. “Why are you creating problems?”

“I’m asking.”

Aubrey stopped. She thought before answering.

“If actual emergency, I call you before six. Hindi kita paghihintayin na walang alam.”

Maraiah held her gaze. “Okay.”

Aubrey leaned in and kissed her. Maraiah held her there by the jaw, unwilling to let the kiss end with something as ordinary as good night. Aubrey shifted closer beneath the blanket until their knees touched, one cold foot finding the warm space between Maraiah’s ankles.

“Ang lamig mo,” Maraiah whispered against her mouth.

“Sorry.”

“Hindi ka naman umaalis.”

Aubrey smiled, but the smile faded when Maraiah kissed her again. This one was slower, sleepier, full of the strange tenderness of celebrating something while both of them were exhausted. Aubrey’s hand settled at the small of her back and stayed there.

After a while, Aubrey rested her forehead against Maraiah’s. “Two years na tayo.”

Maraiah’s thumb moved over the faint makeup left beneath Aubrey’s eye. “Mm.”

“Wala kang speech?”

“Four-thirty alarm ko.”

Aubrey laughed softly. Maraiah kissed the laugh before it could grow louder.

At four-forty, Maraiah’s alarm rang. Aubrey had fallen asleep on the couch with her laptop open. Maraiah closed it, covered her with the yellow blanket, then recorded a voice note from the kitchen.

“Happy anniversary, baby. Good night. Dinner at seven. Wear the black top. Yes, I know you didn’t ask. Call me when you’re awake. Love you.”

She added, “And don’t wear my blouse.”

Aubrey replied at eleven-thirty.

“Happy anniversary. Black top. I love you. See you tonight.”

Maraiah listened twice.

The first delay came at six-twenty.

Aubrey: baby one meeting lang. leaving 6:45. maybe 15 mins late

Maraiah was already dressed. She stood in front of the mirror wearing the dark green dress Aubrey once said made her look expensive and slightly dangerous. Her hair was pinned back on one side. The wrapped card holder rested inside her bag.

Maraiah: okay. i’ll go ahead

Aubrey: love you

Maraiah: love you too

The restaurant was fifteen minutes from Aubrey’s office and almost forty from their apartment. Maraiah had chosen it for that reason.

She arrived at seven-oh-five. The host led her to a table near the window.

“Will someone be joining you, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

Maraiah placed the gift beside her bag and checked the phone.

No new message.

At seven-twenty-three:

Aubrey: client joined unexpectedly. sorry baby. leaving soon

Maraiah looked at leaving soon.

Maraiah: okay

At seven-forty, the waiter brought water and asked if she wanted to order while waiting. Maraiah said maybe in a bit.

She opened Aubrey’s location. Still at the office.

She closed it immediately.

At eight-oh-two:

Aubrey: one hour max. issue sa final assets

Maraiah typed, deleted, then typed again.

Maraiah: should i still wait?

The typing bubble appeared immediately.

Aubrey: yes please. i’m coming

Maraiah read it twice.

Maraiah: okay

At eight-thirty, the waiter returned. Maraiah ordered the mushroom appetizer Aubrey liked because the table had been empty too long and she felt guilty occupying it with only water.

At eight-fifty, the appetizer was cold.

At nine-fifteen, Aubrey called.

“Hi,” Maraiah answered.

“Baby.” Aubrey sounded breathless. Voices moved behind her. “I’m so sorry. We’re fixing something. The regional head is here.”

Maraiah looked at the empty chair. “You said you were coming.”

“I am. Give me thirty minutes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Aubrey.”

“I can make it. Please don’t leave.”

Maraiah closed her eyes. “Okay.”

“Love you.”

The words came automatically.

“Love you too.”

At nine-forty, the waiter said the kitchen would take last orders at ten-thirty.

“I’ll order now,” Maraiah said.

She ordered both of their usual meals.

Aubrey’s pasta arrived first. Steam rose from the plate and slowly disappeared while Maraiah tried not to look at the door every time it opened. A couple at the next table argued about directions. A group from a nearby office took photos with their drinks. Someone near the bar dropped a spoon.

The restaurant kept moving around her.

At ten-oh-eight, Aubrey’s location remained at the office.

At ten-twenty, the waiter asked if he should pack the second meal.

“Not yet,” Maraiah said.

At ten-forty-six, the lights near the bar dimmed. Staff began clearing empty tables. The couple beside her paid and left holding hands.

Maraiah’s phone vibrated.

A voice note.

Aubrey sounded tired and rushed.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. Hindi talaga ako makaalis. Nag-crash yung upload and the client is still here. I know. I know this is terrible. Bawi ako, please. Tomorrow or Sunday, whatever you want. I love you. Call me when you’re awake.”

The message ended.

Maraiah was awake.

The waiter approached carefully. “Ma’am?”

She looked up.

“Would you like us to pack the food?”

For a second, she could not answer. Then she nodded. “Yes. Both.”

He cleared the plates gently, which made the embarrassment worse.

Outside, rain had begun. Not heavy, only enough to make the pavement shine.

Maraiah opened the voice note again.

Bawi ako.

Call me when you’re awake.

She held the microphone button.

“I am awake,” she said.

She stopped the recording before sending it.

She tried again.

“Sana sinabi mo na lang umuwi ako.”

She deleted that too.

In the end, she typed:

Maraiah: pauwi na ako

Aubrey replied after seven minutes.

Aubrey: i’m so sorry

Maraiah stared at the message until the car arrived.

Maraiah: i know

During the ride home, the driver played an old love song quietly. Maraiah held the takeout bags upright between her feet so the sauce would not spill. She kept thinking about the card holder inside her bag and whether the initials were too small.

At the apartment, she placed Aubrey’s pasta inside the refrigerator. The container fit beside leftover lugaw and a salad from a lunch they had both forgotten.

She closed the door.

She removed her earrings, washed her face, and hung the green dress over the chair. She could not bring herself to place it in the laundry basket yet.

At eleven-fifty, Aubrey messaged.

Aubrey: are you awake?

Maraiah turned the phone face down.

At one-forty-three, the lock turned.

Aubrey entered quietly. The refrigerator opened and closed. Footsteps came toward the bedroom.

“Baby?”

Maraiah kept her eyes closed.

The mattress dipped near her feet.

“I know you’re awake.”

Maraiah opened her eyes.

Aubrey looked exhausted. Her black top was wrinkled beneath the blazer. Her hair had fallen out of its clip. She was still wearing the small hoop earrings Maraiah chose that morning through a photo.

For one ugly second, Maraiah noticed how beautiful she looked.

“I’m sorry,” Aubrey said.

Maraiah sat up. “Kumain ka na?”

Aubrey blinked. “No.”

“May pasta sa ref.”

“Baby.”

“Initin mo. Mahal ’yon.”

“Can we talk?”

“Two na.”

“I know.”

“I have work at six.”

“I know, but please.”

Maraiah got out of bed.

They sat at the new table. Maraiah’s closed laptop rested at one end. Two unopened envelopes lay near Aubrey. The wrapped gift sat between them. Aubrey reheated the pasta but did not touch it.

“I tried to leave,” she began. “Nag-crash yung upload, then the regional head joined, and the client was already angry. If I left, walang magha-handle.”

“I know.”

Aubrey’s shoulders dropped, relieved for half a second.

Maraiah looked at the container. “You overheated it.”

“What?”

“The sauce. Nag-separate.”

“Sorry.” Aubrey looked confused. “I can order something else.”

Maraiah laughed once, then covered her mouth because the sound did not belong in the room.

“What?” Aubrey asked.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“Stop trying to replace everything with food.”

Aubrey stared at her. “I wasn’t.”

“You always do.”

“Because you need to eat.”

“I ate.”

“I know.”

“Stop saying you know.”

Aubrey pressed her lips together.

Rain tapped against the window. The refrigerator hummed behind them.

Maraiah touched the wrapped gift once and pulled her hand back.

“Sana nag-no ka na lang.”

Aubrey frowned. “To what?”

“When I asked if I should wait.”

“I thought makakaalis ako.”

“But you didn’t know.”

“I was trying.”

“Ayun nga.” Maraiah’s voice shook. “Naghintay ako because you said papunta ka. If you said hindi, umuwi sana ako. Hindi ako uupo doon hanggang nagliligpit na sila.”

“I didn’t want you to leave.”

“You weren’t there.”

Aubrey looked down.

“I kept asking you,” Maraiah said. “I asked if I should wait. I asked if sure ka. You said yes every time.”

“Because I wanted to be there.”

“I know you wanted to.”

“Then what do you want me to say?”

“The truth.”

“That was the truth.” Aubrey’s voice rose before she caught it. “I wanted to come.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

Aubrey leaned back. “So ano? Dapat sabihin ko no agad kahit may chance naman?”

“Yes.”

The answer came out faster than Maraiah expected.

Aubrey stared at her. “You’d be hurt.”

“I was hurt anyway.”

“I was trying not to disappoint you.”

“You just moved it later.”

Aubrey’s eyes filled. “That’s not fair.”

Maraiah wiped one cheek. “I know.”

“Stop agreeing like that.”

“Why? Para ako naman mag-comfort sa’yo?”

Aubrey recoiled.

Maraiah closed her eyes immediately. “Sorry. That was mean.”

“No.” Aubrey traced the wet ring beside her glass. “Maybe true.”

They both cried then, differently. Aubrey covered her face and bent forward. Maraiah stayed in her chair, hands clenched in her lap. If she touched Aubrey, she knew she would forget what she had been trying to say.

After a while, Aubrey asked, “Do you think I don’t care?”

“No.”

“Do you think work matters more?”

Maraiah looked at her. “I think you know how to disappoint me better than you know how to disappoint work.”

Aubrey lowered her hands.

“I don’t need every dinner,” Maraiah said. “I just need to know what answer I’m getting. Kasi when you say yes, I build around it. I wait. I don’t eat. I stay awake. Tapos pag hindi ka dumating, ikaw pagod, ako galit, then ako pa yung ayaw maging unfair.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I know.”

Aubrey gave a broken laugh. “There. Again.”

Maraiah’s face crumpled. “Because I know your reasons, Brey. I know all of them. That’s why this is hard.”

Aubrey reached across the table, then stopped before touching her. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know tonight.”

“I can take leave tomorrow.”

“No.”

“We can redo dinner.”

“No.”

“Then tell me.” Panic entered Aubrey’s voice. “Please. Hindi ko alam anong gagawin.”

“Nothing. Wala muna.”

“I can’t just do nothing.”

Maraiah looked at her. “Exactly.”

Aubrey stood and walked toward the sink. She gripped the counter, shoulders shaking.

Maraiah watched her and felt love rise at the worst possible time, softening every edge she had spent months trying to hold.

“I need a few days,” she said.

Aubrey turned. “What?”

“Not breakup.”

“Then why leave?”

“I need to sleep somewhere na hindi ako naghihintay sa pinto.”

“We can fix this.”

“When?” Maraiah asked.

Aubrey stopped.

The question was so much like her that Maraiah nearly laughed. A time, a date, something to place on the calendar so panic could stop moving through the room.

“I don’t know,” Maraiah said.

“No, baby, please. Stay tonight. Tomorrow ka na mag-decide.”

“Bukas na naman.”

Aubrey’s hands fell to her sides.

Maraiah packed a small bag. Two shirts. Underwear. Toiletries. Laptop. Charger. She left the green dress over the chair and the wrapped card holder on the table.

At the door, Aubrey handed her an umbrella.

“It’s raining.”

Maraiah took it. “Thank you.”

Aubrey waited for another sentence.

Maraiah had none.

She left at three in the morning.

*

Maraiah’s sister opened the door wearing sleep shorts and an expression that became fully awake the moment she saw the bag.

“What happened?”

Maraiah started crying before she could answer.

Her sister did not ask again. She took the bag, pulled Maraiah inside, and made space on the couch. By the time Maraiah woke near noon, a plate of rice and eggs waited on the dining table with a note that said Eat before drama.

Her phone had no messages from Aubrey.

She had asked for that.

It still hurt.

For three days, Maraiah worked from her sister’s dining table while a television played too loudly in the next room. Her sister’s cat walked across the keyboard during meetings and once sent a row of letters into the client chat before Maraiah could stop it. At night, Maraiah slept in the guest room and woke whenever she imagined hearing Aubrey’s key in a door that was not there.

She checked her phone every time it vibrated.

When it did not vibrate, she checked anyway.

Aubrey respected the boundary.

On the first morning, she recorded a message from the kitchen.

“Good morning, baby. Or good night. Hindi ko...”

She stopped.

The apartment was silent except for the refrigerator. Maraiah had asked her not to call or message.

Aubrey deleted the recording and stood there until the screen went dark.

She ate the anniversary pasta for breakfast. The sauce had separated. She managed three bites before throwing it away, then felt guilty because Maraiah had told her twice that it was expensive.

The wrapped card holder remained on the table. Aubrey moved it to the shelf, then moved it back because the empty place looked worse.

On the second night, she opened the jewelry box meant for Maraiah.

Inside was a thin gold bracelet with a small round charm. On the back, Aubrey had asked the jeweler to engrave:

awake or asleep, still yours

She sat on the bedroom floor holding it and cried until she became embarrassed, even though no one was there to see.

At work the next day, a client meeting ran past seven. At seven-fifteen, the account manager said they might need another hour. Aubrey looked at the screen.

There was no Maraiah waiting for dinner. No plan she was about to break. Still, something in her body tightened as if she had already promised someone she would leave.

“Can Camille handle the asset notes?” Aubrey asked.

Her manager glanced at the participant list. “Yes. Why?”

“I need to go.”

“Everything okay?”

Aubrey almost said yes automatically. “No. Pero hindi emergency. I just... I can’t stay tonight.”

Her manager nodded. “Okay. Send me what you have.”

That was all.

No warning about commitment. No speech about leadership. No one said the team would collapse without her.

Aubrey sent the notes, closed the laptop, and left while the meeting continued.

She hated how easy it was.

In the elevator, she opened Maraiah’s chat and scrolled backward. The messages had once been long, messy, full of half-finished stories and questions at the end. More recently, they looked like instructions.

May food sa ref.

Your shirts are dry.

Good luck tomorrow.

Love you.

She found the last voice note ending with call me when you’re awake. The lugaw night.

Aubrey played it and heard Maraiah’s tired voice asking whether she was still calling.

Then she noticed something below the sent messages.

A small gray label inside the chat app: Draft recovered.

Aubrey frowned. The app had restored an audio file after the phone update, one that had never finished uploading. She pressed play.

Maraiah’s voice came through too quickly, as if she had started recording before deciding what to say.

“Baby, bad day. Hindi naman major, pero... naalala mo yung presentation na ilang gabi ko ginawa? Sinabi nung client na hindi clear, tapos sinabi ni Carlo exactly yung sinabi ko last week and suddenly brilliant siya. Tapos tumawag si Mama.”

There was a rustling sound, maybe tissue against paper.

“Wait. Ang haba na. I’ll just tell you when you call.”

The recording ended.

Aubrey sat down on the floor of the elevator before the doors could open.

She knew the day. The lugaw. The extra egg. The cake. The call she never made.

She also knew Maraiah had never told her the rest.

The elevator reached the lobby. The doors opened. A security guard looked inside, startled to see her sitting there.

“Ma’am?”

Aubrey stood too quickly and almost dropped the phone.

“Okay lang po.”

She was not.

Outside, she sat on a low concrete wall beside the building and played the draft again.

I’ll just tell you when you call.

Aubrey had not called.

The story had ended inside the phone because Maraiah believed there would be another place to put it.

Aubrey pressed the message field. She typed an apology. Deleted it. Typed that she had found the draft. Deleted that too.

Maraiah had asked for space. Aubrey had spent months turning her own urgency into Maraiah’s responsibility. She put the phone away.

For the first time, she let the guilt stay without sending it somewhere else.

On the fourth afternoon, Maraiah messaged.

Maraiah: can you call tonight?

Aubrey read it outside a review room. Her first thought was yes. The review started at seven and could end anywhere between eight and midnight.

She typed slowly.

Aubrey: review at 7. hindi ko alam what time matatapos

The typing bubble appeared on Maraiah’s side, then disappeared.

Aubrey stared at the screen. The yes was still there, ready to make the next few seconds easier.

She wrote:

Aubrey: hindi ko kaya ipromise tonight. bukas 1:30 kaya ko. or now for 10 mins?

Maraiah replied after six minutes.

Maraiah: tomorrow 1:30

Aubrey held the phone against her chest for one second.

Aubrey: okay. 1:30

She wanted to add promise.

She did not.

The review ended at nine-forty. Aubrey went home, showered, and slept badly. She woke at eleven-thirty without an alarm and spent the next two hours checking the time as if one-thirty might move if she stopped watching it.

At one-twenty-eight, she called.

Maraiah answered on the first ring.

Neither spoke immediately.

Then Aubrey said, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“It’s one-twenty-eight.”

“I can see.”

“I was scared I’d be late.”

A small sound came through the phone, almost a laugh. “You’re early.”

Aubrey sat at the table with the wrapped card holder in front of her. “Thank you for answering.”

“You gave me a time.”

“I almost said yes last night.”

“To calling?”

“Yeah.” Aubrey rubbed her thumb over the tape. “I wanted to. Hindi ko alam if I could.”

Maraiah breathed out slowly.

“I didn’t like saying no,” Aubrey said.

“I didn’t like hearing it.”

“I know.”

“But I slept.”

Aubrey closed her eyes.

“I was disappointed,” Maraiah continued. “Tapos alam kong wala akong hinihintay. So natulog ako.”

Aubrey pressed her lips together. “Mas okay?”

“Hindi okay. Mas malinaw lang.”

Neither spoke for a while.

“Can we talk in person?” Maraiah asked.

The old answer rose immediately. Yes. Now. Anywhere.

Aubrey checked.

“Saturday?”

“Why Saturday?”

“I have work tomorrow until late. Saturday free ako after two. Actual free.”

Maraiah was quiet.

“I can go to your sister’s,” Aubrey added. “Or somewhere else.”

“Apartment. Three.”

Aubrey opened the calendar even though she knew it. “Yes. Three.”

“Can you?”

“I can.”

They stayed on the phone for another sixteen minutes.

They did not solve the anniversary. Maraiah said she was still angry. Aubrey said she understood, then stopped.

“What?” Maraiah asked.

“I was going to say I understand. Hindi ko pa nga alam lahat.”

“That’s new.”

“Masakit ka.”

Maraiah laughed tiredly. “Saturday.”

“Saturday.”

At two-fifty-seven on Saturday, Maraiah unlocked the apartment with her own key.

Aubrey stood in the kitchen over a frying pan, looking deeply suspicious of the eggs. She turned off the stove as soon as Maraiah entered.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Aubrey nodded toward the table. “May pagkain.”

Maraiah looked at the plates. Fried rice, eggs, hotdogs, and one tomato cut into uneven slices.

“It’s three.”

“I know.”

“Breakfast?”

Aubrey looked down. “Hindi na tayo nag-aabutan sa umaga.”

Maraiah’s face changed, not enough to call it forgiveness.

She placed her bag near the couch and sat.

The egg had been cooked too long. Aubrey had burned some of the garlic and picked out the darkest pieces, but several remained in the rice.

Maraiah took one bite.

Aubrey watched.

“Don’t,” Maraiah said.

“What?”

“Look at me like may grade.”

Aubrey lowered her eyes. “Sorry.”

“The rice is okay.”

“Okay okay?”

“No. Rice lang.”

Aubrey ate her tomato even though she did not like raw tomato.

After a while, she asked, “How were you?”

Maraiah looked up.

“Hindi work,” Aubrey added. “Ikaw.”

“Pagod.”

Aubrey waited.

“Galit.”

She waited again.

“Then guilty because alam kong miserable ka rin.”

“You didn’t have to take care of that.”

“I know.” Maraiah moved the fork through the rice. “But I did.”

Aubrey traced the edge of her glass. “I found something.”

Maraiah’s hand stopped.

“Sa chat. May recovered draft.”

Maraiah looked at her.

“The lugaw day.”

Color left Maraiah’s face.

“You listened?”

“I didn’t know what it was.”

“You should’ve stopped.”

“I did after it ended.” Aubrey swallowed. “It was one minute.”

Maraiah stood and carried her plate to the sink even though she had barely eaten.

Aubrey did not follow immediately.

“I’m sorry,” she said from the table.

Maraiah turned on the faucet. “For listening?”

“For not calling.”

“That was months ago.”

“I know.”

Maraiah gripped the edge of the sink. “Bakit mo pa binring up?”

“Because I heard you.” Aubrey’s voice shook. “Yung ikaw before mo sinabi okay na.”

Maraiah kept her back turned.

“You were still mad. And funny. And... you wanted to tell me.”

“I did tell you.”

“You sent bad day.”

“That was enough.”

“No.” Aubrey stood, then stopped herself from coming closer. “Hindi enough for you.”

Maraiah shut off the water. “You don’t get to decide that now.”

“You’re right.”

The quick agreement irritated her more.

“Stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Agreeing para matapos.”

“I’m not.” Aubrey wiped her palms on her trousers. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything.”

Aubrey stayed quiet.

Maraiah stared into the sink. After a long time, she said, “Hindi ko na maalala what Mama said.”

Aubrey looked at her.

“Yung presentation, naalala ko. Pero yung call, hindi na. I was so upset that day, tapos now... wala.” Maraiah rubbed one thumb over the other. “Parang nakakahiya tuloy na sobrang big deal nung time na ’yon.”

“It was a big deal then.”

“You weren’t there.”

“No.” Aubrey’s voice broke. “I wasn’t.”

Maraiah turned around.

Aubrey stood beside the table crying quietly, not hiding it, not moving toward her.

“I’m sorry,” Aubrey said. “Hindi ko alam paano babawi sa mga kwentong tapos na.”

“You can’t.”

“I know.”

Maraiah almost told her to stop saying it. She did not have the energy.

Aubrey looked at the wrapped card holder. “Ano yung hindi mo natapos sabihin?”

“What?”

“Sa voice note.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Okay.” Aubrey pulled out the chair. “Yung naaalala mo lang.”

Maraiah laughed once without humor. “Months ago na.”

“Wala akong pupuntahan.”

The sentence was ordinary. Aubrey sat down and waited.

Maraiah remained by the sink. She started with the presentation because that part was easiest. Halfway through, she remembered the coffee stain and found herself crying over the notebook instead. Then she remembered her mother asking about stable work, not the exact words but the careful tone. She stopped twice because it felt stupid to be upset again.

Aubrey did not tell her it was not stupid.

She listened.

When Maraiah lost track, Aubrey asked, “Tapos?”

When Maraiah said she did not know, Aubrey let the silence remain.

The story came out badly. Out of order. Missing pieces. It still took forty minutes.

At the end, Maraiah wiped her face and said, “That’s it.”

Aubrey nodded, then caught herself and rested both hands on the table instead. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For telling me kahit late.”

Maraiah looked at her for a long moment.

“I’m still angry.”

“I know.” Aubrey winced. “Sorry. I heard you.”

A reluctant smile touched Maraiah’s mouth and disappeared.

They washed the dishes together. Their shoulders met once in the narrow kitchen. Aubrey moved aside immediately.

Maraiah handed her a plate. Their fingers touched.

Both paused.

Aubrey dried her hands on her trousers, though they were already dry. “Pwede ba kitang halikan?”

Maraiah looked away. The question found the exact place she had been trying not to touch all afternoon. Four nights ago, Aubrey would have kissed her halfway through a complaint, while one of them was still holding a plate. Now she stood an arm’s length away as if Maraiah might disappear if she moved too quickly.

“Galit pa rin ako,” Maraiah said.

“Alam ko.” Aubrey’s voice came out rough. She stayed where she was.

Maraiah hated that she had missed her. Hated that wanting Aubrey had survived the restaurant, the packed pasta, the three mornings she woke in somebody else’s house. Aubrey’s eyes were red, and Maraiah’s body had already leaned toward her before pride caught up.

“Halika nga.”

Aubrey crossed the space, but Maraiah was the one who caught her shirt and pulled. The first kiss landed crooked, half on the corner of Aubrey’s mouth. Aubrey inhaled sharply. Maraiah tried again, angrier this time, and Aubrey’s hand lifted toward her waist before stopping in the air.

Maraiah took that hand and put it where she wanted it.

Aubrey held her then, carefully at first. The care made Maraiah’s throat ache. She kissed Aubrey until the carefulness broke, until Aubrey’s back struck the counter and a spoon rolled off the drying rack. Neither of them looked down.

Aubrey pulled away only when Maraiah’s breath caught. Her forehead dropped against Maraiah’s temple. “Miss na miss kita.”

Maraiah closed her eyes. “Huwag kang mangako ngayon.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I know.”

For once, the words did not begin another argument. Aubrey’s thumb trembled against her waist.

Maraiah kissed her again, slower. There was no forgiveness inside it yet. There was hunger, anger, relief, and the humiliating fact that Aubrey’s mouth was still familiar. When Aubrey made a small sound, Maraiah tightened her hold at the back of her neck.

“Dito ka lang,” she whispered.

Aubrey nodded against her cheek. She did not turn it into a promise.

That night, they lay facing each other with space between them. Aubrey asked if she could hold Maraiah’s hand. Maraiah said yes.

Their fingers met in the middle of the bed.

“I love you,” Aubrey said. “Hindi mo kailangan sagutin.”

Maraiah stared at their hands.

“I love you too.”

Neither moved closer.

They slept with their fingers linked across the space that still needed to be there.

*

Maraiah did not move back in one dramatic trip.

First, the toothbrush returned to its cup. Then two shirts appeared in the closet because she had worn them to work and did not feel like carrying them back to her sister’s. The laptop charger showed up beside the new table. A week later, Maraiah brought the rest of the bag and left it unpacked near the bed until Sunday.

Aubrey did not ask whether that meant she was home.

She wanted to.

One morning, she opened the closet and found Maraiah’s clothes filling their side again. She stood there smiling until Maraiah noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You look weird.”

“Your clothes are back.”

“They were always my clothes.”

“You know what I mean.”

Maraiah folded another shirt. “Don’t make it a thing.”

Aubrey turned to leave.

Maraiah caught the back of her shirt. “You can be happy.”

Aubrey faced her, trying and failing to hide how happy the shirts had made her. “Pwede?”

Maraiah did not ask what she meant. She caught the front of Aubrey’s shirt and kissed her.

Aubrey laughed once in surprise, then held Maraiah’s face with both hands and kissed her back. No one cried. Nothing needed to be explained. Maraiah smelled toothpaste and the fabric conditioner Aubrey had used too much of, and Aubrey’s hair was still damp enough to cool Maraiah’s fingers when she touched the back of her neck.

It was only a morning kiss, the kind they used to have without noticing. Maraiah had not realized how much she missed being careless with her.

Aubrey drew back when her phone vibrated on the dresser. Maraiah kept one fist in her shirt.

“Late ka na,” Maraiah said.

“Konti.” Aubrey kissed her once more, quick but not rushed, before reaching for the phone.

Maraiah’s expression changed.

Aubrey caught it. “Tonight, eight-thirty. I checked.”

“Okay.”

At eight-twenty-six, the key turned.

Maraiah was in the kitchen heating soup. Aubrey entered carrying only her work bag and an umbrella dripping onto the floor.

She checked the wall clock and raised both hands. “Four minutes early.”

Maraiah looked at her. “Shoes.”

Aubrey removed them, laughing.

Their schedules remained imperfect. Maraiah still woke early. Aubrey still worked late. Some noes hurt even when they were honest.

“Can you call tonight?” Maraiah asked one Wednesday.

“I have review until nine,” Aubrey said. “Hindi sure if matatapos on time.”

“So no?”

“Probably.”

Maraiah frowned. “Okay.”

Aubrey waited.

“What?” Maraiah asked.

“You look sad.”

“I am sad.”

Aubrey’s face tightened.

“Don’t change the answer,” Maraiah said.

“I wasn’t.”

“You were thinking.”

“I was thinking maybe I could step out.”

“Then you’ll be looking at the time habang kausap ako.”

Aubrey sighed. “Tomorrow lunch?”

“One?”

“One-thirty. I can.”

“Okay.”

Maraiah still went quiet after some noes. Aubrey still took the silence personally. They argued once in the kitchen while Maraiah wiped an already clean counter.

“Sabi mo sabihin ko yung totoo,” Aubrey said.

“Sinabi ko.”

“Eh bakit parang may kasalanan pa rin ako?”

“Hindi ko alam. Nalungkot ako.”

“So babaguhin ko ba?”

Maraiah dropped the cloth into the sink. “Ayan na naman. Gusto mo may tamang sagot agad.”

“E ano gagawin ko habang ganyan ka?”

“Wala muna.”

“Ang hirap ng wala.”

“Mas mahirap yung sasabihin mong yes dahil hindi mo matiis mukha ko.”

Aubrey opened her mouth, then closed it. “Galit ka?”

“Konti.”

“Sa akin?”

“Mostly sa schedule mo. Medyo sa’yo.”

Aubrey laughed despite herself. Maraiah tried to hold onto the irritation and failed at the corners of her mouth.

Aubrey stepped closer. “Can I hug you habang disappointed ka?”

Maraiah thought about it. “Yes.”

Aubrey wrapped both arms around her waist. Maraiah kept wiping the counter for another five seconds before leaning back against her.

The laundromat came back into their lives because the building’s washing machine broke on a Saturday.

Aubrey complained the entire walk there, carrying the basket with both hands while Maraiah held the detergent and umbrella.

“This is how our relationship started,” Aubrey said.

“With you unprepared.”

“With destiny.”

“You asked a stranger for hotspot.”

“In this economy.”

“And gave me gummies.”

“May fruit.”

The laundromat looked almost the same. Blue plastic chairs. Machines lined against one wall. A television mounted near the ceiling showing a noontime rerun with the volume too low to understand. The folding table still had a corner that wobbled.

They claimed two chairs near the window. Aubrey placed her tote on one while loading the clothes, then moved it when Maraiah returned with water.

“Saved seat?” Maraiah asked.

Aubrey shrugged. “Nandiyan bag ko.”

“Move.”

Aubrey moved it, smiling.

Halfway through the wash cycle, Maraiah’s phone showed three percent. She looked at Aubrey’s power bank beside the tote.

“Can I borrow that?”

Aubrey looked at the power bank, then at her.

“What?” Maraiah asked.

“Full request.”

“Arte.”

“Say it.”

Maraiah rolled her eyes. “Can I borrow your power bank?”

Aubrey picked it up and checked the lights. “Charged. Two ports. Kaya.”

Maraiah held out her hand. “Good girl.”

Aubrey froze.

Maraiah’s smile widened. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Red ears.”

“Mainit.”

“May aircon.”

Aubrey looked toward the washing machine as if it had called her name. Maraiah laughed and plugged in the phone.

Aubrey stared at the washing machine for so long that Maraiah began to laugh.

“Battery lang ’yon, baby.”

“Alam ko.” Aubrey reached for the packet of detergent, missed it, then pretended she had meant to adjust the tote.

Maraiah leaned closer. “Sure?”

Aubrey turned and kissed her before Maraiah could tease her again. It was quick and badly aimed; the corner of Maraiah’s smile got caught between them. Aubrey started to pull away, embarrassed, but Maraiah held her wrist and kissed her properly.

Behind them, the machines spun through rinse cycle. Someone on the television applauded at the wrong volume. Aubrey’s thumb moved once over the inside of Maraiah’s wrist, and Maraiah felt the old laundromat return around them: a borrowed power bank, gummies offered like payment, two strangers who had not known yet what they were starting.

When they separated, Aubrey glanced toward the woman folding towels.

Maraiah squeezed her wrist. “Ngayon ka pa nahiya.”

“Hindi ako nahihiya.”

“Namula ka.”

Aubrey took the gummies from the tote and pushed them into Maraiah’s hand. “Kumain ka na lang.”

Maraiah found a packet of gummies inside the tote. “You brought these?”

“Emergency.”

“For what?”

“Laundry.”

Maraiah opened the packet. Aubrey leaned her shoulder against hers.

The anniversary dinner happened three weeks later.

Aubrey did not call it a redo. They were lying in bed on a Thursday, Maraiah scrolling through restaurant photos while Aubrey tried to decide whether she had enough energy to remove her makeup.

“Can I take you out?” Aubrey asked.

“When?”

Aubrey opened her calendar. “Next Friday, no. May launch. Saturday at seven, kaya ko, pero check ko team schedule tomorrow before booking.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t sound excited.”

“I’m waiting for the answer.”

Aubrey nodded slowly. “Fair.”

The next afternoon, she sent a screenshot.

Aubrey: saturday 7. confirmed. can you?

Maraiah checked her own schedule.

Maraiah: yes. i can

On Saturday, Aubrey arrived outside the restaurant at six-fifty-two wearing the same black top. Maraiah was already there in the green dress, checking her reflection in her phone.

Aubrey came up behind her and wrapped both arms around her waist.

Maraiah startled. “Grabe ka.”

“Sorry.” Aubrey loosened her arms. “You look...”

“What?”

Aubrey looked at the dress, then at her face. “Ikaw.”

Maraiah laughed. “Ang pangit ng compliment.”

“I got nervous.”

“Clearly.”

Aubrey held up a packet of gummies. “Peace offering.”

“May actual gift ka na.”

“Vitamins.”

“Sugar.”

Inside, the host asked, “Table for two?”

Aubrey answered yes without looking at Maraiah. The ordinary confidence of it made Maraiah’s throat tighten.

They ate slowly. Aubrey’s phone stayed inside her bag. It vibrated twice near the main course. Maraiah noticed.

“Check if emergency.”

Aubrey shook her head. “Manager will call twice.”

“What if client?”

“They can wait.”

Maraiah studied her face. “Are you going to resent this tomorrow?”

Aubrey thought before answering. “I might be stressed when I open messages. Hindi same.”

“Okay.”

They talked about the week, not as reports. Maraiah forgot a detail halfway through a story and had to start again. Aubrey interrupted too much, got told to shut up, then laughed hard enough to drop her fork when Maraiah revealed that the client had called a spreadsheet “emotionally rigid.”

At one point, Maraiah looked around the restaurant.

“What?” Aubrey asked.

“You’re here.”

Aubrey reached across the table. “Can I?”

Maraiah placed her hand in hers.

After dinner, rain started before they reached the apartment. They ran the last half block beneath Aubrey’s small umbrella, which did not cover either of them properly.

By the time they entered the hallway, Maraiah’s hair was damp and Aubrey’s black top had rain spots across one shoulder.

Aubrey closed the apartment door behind them.

Maraiah turned to complain about the umbrella, but Aubrey kissed her before the first word came out. The back of Maraiah’s shoulder touched the door. Aubrey was cold from the rain, her mouth warm, one hand finding Maraiah’s waist through the damp green dress.

Maraiah laughed once in surprise and then stopped laughing. She caught the front of Aubrey’s black top and pulled her closer until the wet fabric bunched inside her fist. Aubrey kissed her with the breathless relief of someone who had spent the whole evening arriving.

Her hand moved along Maraiah’s back and paused at the zipper of the dress.

Aubrey pulled away first.

“You wore it,” she said.

Maraiah knew exactly which night had entered the hallway with them. She had worn the same dress beneath restaurant lights while Aubrey’s chair stayed empty and the pasta across from her lost its steam.

“Yeah.”

Aubrey’s hands loosened at her waist.

Maraiah nearly let her step back. The old hurt was there, sudden and complete. So was Aubrey, damp-haired and frightened, standing where she had said she would be tonight.

“Don’t,” Maraiah said.

Aubrey searched her face. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t kiss me like you’re saying sorry again.”

“I’m not.”

“You stopped.”

“I remembered.” Aubrey swallowed. “And I got scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of making this another thing I ruin.”

Maraiah’s chest tightened. She touched Aubrey’s cheek, then let her hand fall. “Nasira na yung dati.”

Aubrey looked down.

Maraiah caught her shirt again. “Tonight didn’t.”

The next kiss began slowly. Aubrey waited through the first second as if she still expected Maraiah to change her mind. Maraiah answered by sliding one hand into her wet hair and pulling her closer. Aubrey’s breath broke against her mouth. The apology left the kiss. What remained was want, weeks of it, and the dizzy relief of reaching for each other without pretending the old night had never happened.

Maraiah kissed the corner of Aubrey’s mouth, then her jaw. Aubrey tipped her head back and gripped Maraiah’s waist hard enough to crease the dress.

“Dito ka lang,” Maraiah whispered against her skin.

Aubrey looked at her before answering. “Nandito ako.”

Maraiah kissed her again because that was true right now, and right now was finally enough.

Later, they lay on the bed still dressed except for their shoes. Aubrey set a ten-minute alarm.

“What is that?” Maraiah asked.

“Can you stay awake for ten minutes?”

“You asked after setting it.”

“I forgot order.”

Maraiah checked the time. “Yes.”

They talked about a woman at the restaurant who had hidden bread inside her bag and whether taking free bread home counted as theft. When the alarm rang, Aubrey silenced it.

“Sleep?”

Maraiah moved closer. “Five more.”

Aubrey smiled. “Can you?”

Maraiah tucked herself against Aubrey’s chest. “I can.”

*

Months later, the clocks in the apartment remained badly matched.

Maraiah woke early. Aubrey sometimes came home after midnight. Dinner occasionally waited in separate containers, and their voice-note thread kept growing.

One rainy Tuesday, Maraiah’s client delayed a product release she had spent half a year building. The explanation arrived through a twelve-minute call full of words like realignment and strategic pause. Nobody said the work was bad. Nobody said Maraiah had failed. The project simply stopped existing in the future everyone had been working toward.

After the call, Maraiah stayed at the table with her headset still on.

Her first instinct was to wait until Aubrey woke naturally. Aubrey had worked until two and had a meeting at noon.

The old fear arrived with the request.

Maraiah sent it anyway.

Maraiah: bad news. can you call when you’re awake?

Aubrey read it at eleven-twenty.

Aubrey: awake. meeting at 12. i have 25 mins now or call at 2:30 after. what do you need?

Maraiah stared at the options.

Maraiah: now. don’t fix it

The phone rang before she could put it down.

“Hi,” Aubrey said.

Maraiah tried to answer and started crying instead.

Aubrey did not panic. “Okay. I’m here.”

For twenty-three minutes, Maraiah talked in circles. She began with the client call, moved backward through six months of work, became angry about weekends she had lost, then embarrassed because other people lost projects every day and this was not a tragedy.

“Don’t do that,” Aubrey said.

“Do what?”

“Yung ginagawa mong maliit para hindi ka ma-arte.”

Maraiah laughed while crying. “Shut up.”

At eleven-forty-four, Aubrey said, “Baby, I have to join in one minute.”

Maraiah wiped her face and checked the clock. “Okay.”

“I’m calling again at two-thirty.”

“Can you?”

“Yes. Meeting ends two. I blocked after.”

“Okay.”

“And I can come home before four. Do you want that?”

Maraiah looked at the frozen presentation on the screen. “Yes.”

“I can.”

Aubrey called again at two-twenty-nine.

She came home at three-forty with no flowers, no cake, and no delivery bag. She sat on the floor beside Maraiah’s chair and rested her cheek against Maraiah’s knee.

“What are you doing?” Maraiah asked.

“Dito lang.”

“You can sit normally.”

“I know.”

Maraiah placed one hand in her hair. “Fine.”

They stayed like that until the feeling changed shape.

That night, Aubrey left a voice note before sleeping.

“Good night, baby. Meeting until one tomorrow. I can call at one-thirty. May chicken sa blue container. Yung black, suspicious. Love you.”

Maraiah listened the next morning and replied while making coffee.

“Good night. One-thirty works. I have chismis. Complete version. Also, stop using my mug.”

Aubrey called at one-twenty-eight.

Maraiah told her the whole story while it still mattered. It lasted twenty-two minutes because the chismis had more supporting characters than expected. Aubrey interrupted twice to clarify who accidentally replied-all, once to ask why a manager named Paolo was saved as Paolo Do Not Trust, and once because she laughed hard enough to miss a sentence.

“Wait. Go back,” Aubrey said. “Ano sinabi after?”

“I just told you.”

“I was laughing.”

“Your problem.”

“Please. Complete version nga.”

Maraiah repeated the part.

When she finished, Aubrey was quiet for a second.

“That’s it?”

“That’s the chismis.”

“I waited one day for that?”

“You called early.”

“Refund.”

“No.”

Aubrey laughed. “What time dinner?”

Maraiah looked at the clock. “What time are you home?”

Aubrey checked before answering. Maraiah heard the faint tapping through the phone.

“Not seven. Eight-thirty. Traffic might be bad, so eight-thirty.”

“Okay.”

“Okay as in you’ll be there?”

“Yes. For eight-thirty.”

At eight-twenty-six, the key turned in the lock.

Maraiah was in the kitchen heating soup. Aubrey entered carrying no apology food, only her work bag and an umbrella dripping onto the floor.

She removed her shoes and left the umbrella by the door. No flowers. No cake. No paper bag from somewhere expensive. She had come home carrying only her work bag and the rain on her shoulders.

Maraiah looked at the clock once. Eight-twenty-six.

Aubrey followed her eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

For a second they only stood there with the soup beginning to bubble behind Maraiah. Then Maraiah turned off the stove and crossed the kitchen.

She kissed Aubrey before Aubrey could ask for it.

Aubrey froze, perhaps because Maraiah had moved first, then wrapped both arms around her waist. The blouse beneath Maraiah’s hands was cool and damp. Aubrey tasted like coffee and mint and the outside air. When she smiled into the kiss, Maraiah kissed her again until the smile softened into a breath.

Aubrey’s forehead rested against hers. “Anong oras?”

Maraiah touched the back of her neck. “Huwag mong sirain.”

Aubrey laughed quietly, not the polished kind of laugh meant to make a bad moment easier. Just happiness, tired and surprised. She kissed Maraiah again, slower this time.

The soup began to hiss against the side of the pot.

Neither of them moved immediately.

They ate at the table while rain moved softly against the window. Aubrey told Maraiah about her own day, including the part where she almost said yes to a client call at nine and remembered she had already given Maraiah a time.

Maraiah listened, added pepper to the soup, and passed Aubrey the crackers before she asked.

They would still get things wrong.

There would be calls shortened, dinners moved, and arguments about what counted as an emergency. Maraiah would hear no and need a minute. Aubrey would want to turn every disappointed face into yes.

But at eight-thirty, Aubrey had come home.

Maraiah had waited because she knew when waiting would end.

A week before that rainy Tuesday, they had their first completely ordinary breakfast in months.

It happened by accident. Maraiah woke late because her first meeting had been moved, and Aubrey came home early because the client dinner ended before anyone ordered dessert. They met in the kitchen at seven-ten, both surprised to see the other standing there.

Aubrey still wore her work clothes. Maraiah had not brushed her hair. The rice cooker was empty.

“May bread?” Aubrey asked.

Maraiah opened the cabinet. “Two slices.”

“Egg?”

“Three.”

Aubrey removed her blazer and hung it over the back of a chair. “Okay na ’yan.”

They cooked without assigning roles. Maraiah cracked the eggs while Aubrey searched for butter, found none, and used mayonnaise on the bread without telling her. Maraiah noticed after the first bite.

“What did you put here?”

“Spread.”

“Mayo?”

“Walang butter.”

“You could’ve said.”

“You would say no.”

“I’m saying no now.”

Aubrey took the toast from her plate and ate it herself. “Problem solved.”

Maraiah watched her chew, then pushed one egg toward her. “You look tired.”

“I am.”

“Bad night?”

“Long. Hindi bad.” Aubrey rubbed one eye with the heel of her hand. “May client na nagtanong if puwedeng mas youthful yung font.”

Maraiah laughed into her coffee. “What does that mean?”

“Hindi ko tinanong. Natakot ako sa answer.”

Aubrey looked at her over the rim of the mug. “Ikaw? Why late?”

“Moved yung call.”

“Good?”

“Good for sleep. Bad for anxiety. I woke up thinking I missed it.”

Aubrey reached across the table and touched two fingers to Maraiah’s wrist. “You didn’t.”

“I know.”

They ate without phones. Nothing important happened. Aubrey complained about the mayonnaise. Maraiah reminded her that she had chosen it. A tricycle horn sounded from the street below. The neighbor’s washing machine began its violent spin cycle through the wall.

At seven-thirty, Aubrey’s eyes started closing between bites.

“Bed,” Maraiah said.

“I’m listening.”

“To what?”

Aubrey opened her eyes. “Exactly.”

Maraiah stood and took both plates. Aubrey caught the hem of her shirt before she reached the sink.

“Can you lie down with me five minutes?”

Maraiah checked the time. Her meeting was at eight-thirty.

“Ten,” she said.

Aubrey looked up. “You have time?”

“I do.”

In bed, Aubrey curled against her before Maraiah had fully settled. She pressed her cold nose to Maraiah’s neck and laughed when Maraiah flinched.

“Ang lamig mo.”

“Sorry.” Aubrey did not move away.

Maraiah ran one hand slowly down her back. “Sleep.”

“Call me pag meeting mo na.”

“Katabi mo ko.”

“Still.”

Maraiah kissed her forehead. “Sige.”

Aubrey fell asleep before the ten minutes ended. Maraiah stayed until twelve, then left her phone on the pillow with an alarm set for eight-fifteen.

When Aubrey woke, the apartment was quiet and Maraiah was already inside her call. A note waited beside the mug.

Breakfast happened. You were there.

Aubrey read it once, then folded it carefully and placed it in the drawer with all the other notes.

After dinner, Aubrey carried both bowls to the sink and looked over her shoulder.

“Can you stay while I wash?”

Maraiah leaned against the counter beside her. “I can.”

Water ran over the bowls. Aubrey’s shoulder stayed pressed against hers.

Neither checked the time.

The rest of the evening was still there.

After Aubrey finished washing the bowls, she dried her hands on the towel and found Maraiah still beside her.

“What?” Aubrey asked.

“Nothing.” Maraiah looked toward the bedroom, then back at her. “I was waiting.”

“For me?”

“For you to finish.”

Aubrey glanced at the sink as though there might be one more plate she had missed. “Tapos na.”

Maraiah nodded. She did not move.

Aubrey understood after a second. She stepped closer and opened her arms without saying anything. Maraiah went into them, cheek against Aubrey’s shoulder, one hand holding the back of her damp blouse.

The rain had softened outside. Somewhere in the building, a child was laughing in the hallway. Their refrigerator clicked off, leaving the kitchen briefly quiet.

“Pagod?” Aubrey asked.

“Medyo.”

“Bed?”

“Later.”

Aubrey felt Maraiah tense at the word and corrected herself. “After I lock the door. Two minutes.”

Maraiah relaxed against her. “Okay.”

Aubrey kissed her hair. “Two minutes.”

She locked the door, checked the stove, and returned before Maraiah could decide whether to follow. They walked to the bedroom together, not because either had asked perfectly, but because neither had left the other to guess.