I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World

March 30, 2024 — 10:45 AM

Sentinel HQ, Bonifacio Global City

The elevator ride up to the 41st floor was quiet, save for the hum of machinery and the gentle clinking of Angel's coffee thermos against her bag. Matthew stood beside her, dressed in a crisp navy blazer now, hair brushed back, but the calm in his expression lingered—like something inside him hadn't quite returned to speed.

Angel glanced sideways, a soft smile curling on her lips. "You're quieter than usual."

He looked down at her, then gave a small smile of his own. "Just… thinking."

She tilted her head. "About what?"

The elevator chimed before he could answer, and the doors slid open to reveal Sentinel's command deck.

Inside, the usual buzz of movement and information greeted them. Screens displayed real-time tunnel telemetry. Engineers reviewed schematics on mounted digital boards. Analysts in headsets moved through shift rotations. It was business as usual—but something between the two of them had changed.

Angel moved ahead first, greeting one of the team leads with a nod and a short instruction. Matthew followed, quieter, watching the curve of her back as she moved through the command space with practiced ease.

They spent the next thirty minutes checking in on updates from the NAIA corridor and confirming borehead speeds from both TBMs. Angel reviewed an updated hydrology scan for Cebu Pulse. Matthew noted a subtle seismic shift detected outside the Makati shaft—minor, but worth watching.

But all the while, he knew he wasn't focused—not entirely.

It wasn't the tunnels or the machines that preoccupied him.

It was her.

—

11:45 AM — Sentinel HQ – Glass Briefing Room

By late morning, the two of them were in the smaller conference space on the east wing, the one with wide windows that overlooked High Street below. They had dismissed the rest of the team after a quick operational rundown. It was just the two of them now, charts still glowing on the panel between them, untouched.

Angel sat back in her chair, thermos half-empty. "You've been distracted since we got here."

Matthew didn't deflect.

"You're right."

She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

He turned toward the glass wall. For a moment, the city looked almost peaceful—like the chaos was held at bay by the glass.

"I need to say something," he said finally.

Angel blinked. "Okay…"

He took a breath. Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just real.

"I have feelings for you."

There it was. Out in the air now, hanging between them like a live wire.

Angel's brows lifted slightly, but she didn't look away. She didn't laugh. She didn't flinch.

She simply asked, "Since when?"

Matthew looked at her, steady. "Maybe since Subic. Or maybe before. I don't know. I think I was just too focused, too buried in blueprints and meeting rooms to even notice. But last night… it made everything obvious."

Angel was silent for a beat, and Matthew continued before she could speak.

"I'm not saying this changes anything about the mission. I'm not saying I expect anything back. I just—needed you to know. That this… you… mean more than just an intermission in the middle of war rooms and tunnel drives."

Angel watched him for a long time. Her eyes didn't soften or sharpen—they just searched.

"I know," she said quietly.

Matthew blinked. "You… know?"

Angel exhaled slowly. "I knew. I just didn't want to name it yet. Not until you were sure. Not until I was."

She stood up then, walking slowly to the windows, arms crossed lightly over her chest.

"It's been a long time since I let someone close, Matthew. I didn't think I'd want this. Not again. Not in the middle of everything."

He moved beside her but didn't crowd her. "Do you want it now?"

Angel didn't answer immediately. She looked out over the skyline. BGC pulsed below them—lines of people, rows of buildings, a thousand lives unfolding at once.

Then she looked back at him.

"Yes," she said softly. "But only if it's real. Only if it's not just two tired people finding a moment to breathe."

Matthew reached out, gently taking her hand. "It's real."

She nodded once, eyes meeting his with something quieter than excitement—something steadier. "Then we figure it out."

He smiled. "Together."

—

12:30 PM — Sentinel HQ Cafeteria

They didn't announce anything. They didn't have to. The cafeteria was mostly empty anyway, save for a few engineers eating alone with tablets propped in front of them.

Angel sat across from him, poking at her rice bowl with her chopsticks. Matthew had a sandwich he barely touched.

"So what now?" she asked between bites.

Matthew shrugged. "We keep building. The trains won't wait."

"And us?"

"We don't rush. We make time. We stay honest."

Angel chewed for a moment, then smiled. "You talk about this like it's another infrastructure project."

He smirked. "I build what I want to last."

Angel shook her head, amused. "God, you're such an engineer."

But the words weren't teasing—they were warm. Familiar.

Safe.

—

1:45 PM — Elevator Lobby, HQ 41st Floor

As they waited for the elevator to take them down to the transport bay for the afternoon site visit, Angel leaned lightly against the wall, shoulder brushing Matthew's.

"We'll have to go back to normal after this," she said, voice lower now. "Field briefings. Night shifts. Public panels."

"I know," he replied.

"People might notice."

"They might."

Angel looked at him. "Still worth it?"

Matthew turned to her, no hesitation. "Every second."

And when the elevator doors opened, they didn't step in right away.

Not just yet.

They stood in that quiet hallway, sharing a glance that said everything words couldn't.

Then, with the rhythm of the city waiting below and a thousand demands pulling them forward, they stepped in together—side by side.

It was subtle. Intentional.

He looked down, surprised at first, then smiled—just a small shift in the corners of his lips, like he'd found something he didn't know he'd been waiting for.

The floor lights blinked past them—40, 39, 38.

And in that quiet descent, hand barely linked with hers, Matthew realized something simple but certain:

Whatever came next, he wouldn't be facing it alone.