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

May 2nd, 2024 — 10:00 AM

Aurora Central Hub, Quezon City

Angel balanced a coffee cup in one hand and a folder of boring-but-necessary fiber optic procurement forms in the other as she made her way through the humming halls of Aurora Central. Around her, project managers buzzed, engineers called out updates, and on the main display screen, the real-time boring status of TBM Aurora blinked in satisfying green.

Matthew walked just a few steps behind her, tablet in hand, stylus tucked behind his ear, still half-lost in the morning tunnel briefings from Subic. He hadn't noticed yet that Angel had slowed her pace intentionally.

"So," she said without turning around, "when are we getting married?"

Matthew stumbled.

It wasn't dramatic—no flailing arms or spilled coffee—but his steps faltered just long enough for her to grin over her shoulder.

"You okay back there, Borja?"

He cleared his throat. "I—uh, what?"

Angel stopped walking and turned, both brows raised, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "You heard me."

Matthew blinked. "Are you serious?"

She sipped her coffee and looked around at the bustling command hub. "Nope. Dead serious. Life-or-death situation. Answer carefully."

He laughed—nervously at first, then genuinely. "Are you always this casual about terrifying topics?"

"Marriage isn't terrifying," Angel said, stepping closer. "It's like building a transit line. Takes planning. Vision. Budget control."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "You're really comparing marriage to mass infrastructure?"

"It's how my brain works, okay?" She smirked. "Besides, you're the one who keeps talking about building things that last."

He scratched the back of his neck, flustered but smiling. "I didn't think you'd take it so literally."

Angel bumped his arm lightly with her elbow. "Relax. I'm not dropping hints in front of the procurement team. Just… wondering."

Matthew looked at her for a long moment, something soft creeping into his features. "Well… when do you think we should?"

She blinked, mock-surprised. "Oh, we're answering the question now?"

"You started it," he replied with a grin.

Angel narrowed her eyes playfully. "Fine. I vote… two years."

"Two years?" he echoed, mock-offended. "Why wait that long?"

"Because I want time to plan," she said. "You're not the only one who likes blueprints. Plus, I want a wedding that doesn't happen between tunnel inspections and seismic scans."

Matthew pretended to pout. "So no hard hats at the altar?"

She laughed. "Absolutely not. But I'm open to custom rail-themed invitations."

"Done," he said, already imagining them. "We can have little TBMs on the cake."

Angel's expression twisted into amused horror. "No. I draw the line at cake-mounted machinery."

They both laughed, and for a moment, the weight of the world—of national projects, public pressure, looming deadlines—felt lighter.

—

11:15 AM — South Corridor Break Room, Aurora Central

The break room was half-empty. Just a few sleepy interns sipping 3-in-1 coffee and one senior logistics officer asleep with his face in a binder.

Angel and Matthew sat at a small table near the window, sunlight spilling in from the glass walls.

Matthew stirred his second cup of black coffee slowly. "You know, it's not the idea of marriage that freaks me out."

"Oh?" Angel looked up from her pastry. "What is it then?"

He exhaled. "The idea of doing it wrong."

Angel watched him carefully. "Matthew…"

"I mean it," he said. "You and I… we built this team. This system. This insane, interconnected miracle of a transit network. And we still barely sleep."

She reached across the table and touched his hand. "Hey. You're not proposing yet. This isn't a contract. This is us… talking."

He nodded, fingers curling gently into hers. "Right. Sorry. My brain's wired for risk analysis."

"Well," Angel said with a grin, "an acceptable level of emotional risk is required for any long-term venture."

"You read that off a project safety manual, didn't you?"

"I might've paraphrased."

They both laughed again. It wasn't a heavy moment. It was light and warm and just theirs.

—

12:30 PM — Tunnel Entrance Viewing Deck, Central Pulse

After their break, they made a short walk to the reinforced glass deck that overlooked TBM Aurora's primary entrance shaft. Below, the massive cutterhead gleamed in the daylight, a testament to everything they'd built together.

Angel leaned on the railing. "You know what I like about this place?"

Matthew leaned beside her. "The sound of progress?"

"No," she said, smiling. "The fact that everything under here used to be impossible."

He looked at her, quiet for a beat. "And now?"

She met his gaze. "Now, it's real. Built with months of digging and sweat and early mornings."

Matthew nodded slowly. "Just like us."

Angel turned to him fully. "Okay, I have another question."

"Oh no," he said, mock-scared. "More curveballs?"

"Relax. It's lighter than marriage."

"I'm listening."

Angel held up her fingers like a game show host. "If we were getting married—hypothetically—who would plan it better? You or me?"

Matthew's brow furrowed. "Well, I'm meticulous. Good with timelines. Efficient with resources."

"And emotionally detached," Angel added helpfully.

He pointed a finger. "Rude but accurate."

Angel grinned. "I'd plan the better wedding."

"Bold claim."

"I'd balance function and vibe. You'd hand out Excel sheets with seating charts."

Matthew huffed. "Those Excel sheets would be color-coded and extremely useful."

Angel laughed. "Exactly. But you'd forget flowers."

He tilted his head. "Okay, I concede. You plan. I'll execute."

"Just like always," she said, nudging him again.

"Still want to wait two years?"

Angel considered it. "Maybe not. Maybe just long enough for the world to feel a little slower."

Matthew smiled. "Then we build toward it. Quietly. Intentionally."

Angel leaned her head briefly against his shoulder. "Sounds like a plan."

And below them, the tunnel machine rumbled to life—another meter forward, another dream made real.

—

2:00 PM — Sentinel HQ Private Shuttle, En Route to BGC

The ride back was calm. Angel was half-asleep beside him, leaning into his arm, her tablet resting on her lap. Matthew didn't move. Not even when his phone buzzed. Not even when the aide at the front of the shuttle called out a reminder for the next investor meeting.

He just sat there, one hand resting lightly on hers.

Thinking about flowers. And vows. And maybe—someday—a ring.

But for now?

He'd settle for this moment.

And maybe another coffee shared on a quiet morning that belonged only to them.

Because like all good systems, the foundation was everything.

And this?

This was the best blueprint of his life.