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

March 30, 2024 — 2:30 PM

En Route to Makati Shaft 3A

Matthew sat in the backseat of the Sentinel convoy SUV, eyes on the passing skyline as the vehicle curved off Kalayaan Avenue. The tinted windows dulled the sunlight into hazy strips across his lap, and beside him, Angel scrolled through site reports on her tablet, brows slightly furrowed in thought.

But Matthew wasn't thinking about seismic activity or shaft ventilation.

He was thinking about her.

About waking up in her bed, the slow rhythm of her breath beside him. About the way the sunlight danced across her shoulder. About how something inside him had settled when she smiled at him across the breakfast table—like the parts of his life he'd compartmentalized for years had finally chosen to connect.

Even now, seated just inches from her, he was still trying to process it.

He and Angel Cruz.

Partners. For real. Not just by way of tunnel schedules or midnight deadlines or standing side by side at press conferences. But something more.

He almost wanted to laugh. Not because it was funny—but because it was still unbelievable.

The woman who once intimidated senior contractors with a single arched eyebrow had let him hold her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. And now they were here, together, and she hadn't pulled away.

"You're staring again," Angel said without looking up from her tablet.

Matthew blinked. "Sorry."

She smirked. "Thinking of borehead RPMs or of how you look in my panda mug?"

"Honestly?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still wrapping my head around this."

Angel finally looked at him, tilting her head. "What, this morning?"

"No," he said. "You. Me. Us."

Her expression softened. "Still feels surreal?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Like I fell into someone else's life. Someone braver, probably."

Angel chuckled, tapping off her screen. "You spend your days yelling at mayors and managing an entire national subway grid, but romance stuns you?"

"Romance didn't have a system map," he said. "Didn't have blueprints."

Angel reached over, squeezing his hand gently. "Then we draw it as we go."

—

3:15 PM — Makati Shaft 3A, Observation Deck

They arrived on-site to the usual controlled chaos—workers in reflective vests, engineers with laser scopes, the constant thrum of machines echoing against the reinforced shaft walls.

Matthew's boots crunched against the gravel as he stepped out of the SUV. Angel was already a few paces ahead, speaking with the site lead about the latest excavation report. She had that presence again—the one that could fill a space without trying.

He caught himself smiling.

"You coming, Borja?" she called over her shoulder.

He jogged up beside her, grabbing a hard hat from a passing logistics officer. "Wouldn't miss it."

The next thirty minutes blurred into the usual sequence—shaft stability updates, machinery inspections, air quality readings. Matthew listened, answered, nodded, made mental notes. But still, a part of him hovered somewhere else, watching her.

There was a moment—when Angel reached to point something out on the vibration sensor map—that her hand brushed his again.

No one else noticed. But they did.

And something about that—about that shared secret—felt more grounding than the steel beneath their feet.

—

4:00 PM — Temporary Command Tent, Shaft 3A

With most of the operational review done, they ducked into the temporary on-site command tent for hydration and notes. The heat outside was creeping toward thirty-five degrees.

Matthew peeled off his jacket and loosened his collar. Angel grabbed two water bottles from the cooler, tossing one to him.

"You've been looking at me like I'm a math problem all day," she said.

"I'm just…" He paused. "Trying not to mess it up."

Angel raised an eyebrow, unscrewing her bottle. "You're not going to."

"You don't know that."

She stepped closer. "Matthew. You're not perfect. Neither am I. But if we keep trying to protect ourselves from something good just because it feels unexpected—then what are we even building for?"

He blinked. That sounded like her. The Angel Cruz who turned boardrooms into strategy tables and rallied exhausted engineers with nothing more than calm and conviction.

"You're really sure about this?" he asked quietly.

She looked up at him and, for a moment, just held his gaze. "I'm not someone who commits lightly. You know that."

"I do."

"Then believe me when I say I'm here," she said. "Not because it's convenient. Not because it's fleeting. But because I want to be."

Matthew nodded, heart thudding a little harder than usual. "Okay."

"Okay," she echoed with a small, certain smile.

And right there, amidst the whir of generators and the scent of soil and oil, something between them settled again—unspoken, but steady.

—

6:00 PM — BGC Transit Bay, Sentinel Motor Pool

Back in Bonifacio Global City, the late afternoon light bathed the streets in gold as Matthew walked Angel toward her personal transport vehicle. She'd be heading to a co-op conference dinner while he reviewed another segment of the Cebu alignment with their offshore analysts.

He didn't want to leave. Not quite.

Angel leaned against the door of the armored SUV, arms crossed, her eyes soft but amused. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"Looking at me like you still don't believe it."

"I'm working on it," he said, stepping closer. "This morning was perfect. Today was perfect. I don't want to lose that feeling."

Angel reached up, smoothing a wrinkle in his collar. "Then don't. We're not going anywhere."

He exhaled. "When did you get so reassuring?"

She grinned. "Somewhere between kimchi rice and tocino."

Matthew chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Text me when you get there?"

"Only if you admit you've checked your phone five times just to make sure we didn't imagine this."

He raised his hand in surrender. "Guilty."

Angel kissed his cheek. "See you tonight."

And then she stepped into the SUV, leaving him standing there in the warm gold of the evening.

Still smiling. Still stunned. Still—somehow—in awe that this was real.

—

7:45 PM — Sentinel HQ, East Wing Balcony

Matthew stood alone on the balcony overlooking the city, tablet in one hand, untouched coffee in the other. Reports blinked beside him—expansion costs, station rollouts, drone survey anomalies.

But none of it held his attention.

He was thinking of her. Again.

Of quiet mornings. Of laughter in arcades. Of hands held under fading lamplight and the way her voice softened when she let herself trust.

He couldn't explain it—not really.

All he knew was that the same man who once lived and breathed concrete, data, and rail lines now counted his days not just by tunnel meters—but by moments with her.

Angel.

His partner.

His unexpected constant.

His next great endeavor.

And whatever tomorrow brought, whatever storm or schedule or demand—he'd show up for it.

Just like he always had.

Only now, he wasn't alone.