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

November 18, 2024 — 10:30 AM

Bohol, Private Beachfront Villa

The morning light streamed through the open shutters, golden and warm against the soft linen sheets. The air smelled faintly of salt, hibiscus, and coffee brewing somewhere in the villa's tiny kitchen.

Angel stirred first, shifting under the covers, her hand instinctively seeking out the familiar warmth beside her. She found it easily—Matthew lying on his back, one arm folded behind his head, the other tangled loosely with hers.

For a few precious seconds, she just stayed like that—half-awake, half-dreaming—listening to the rhythmic sound of the waves outside. No alarms. No urgent reports. No system errors flashing red at three in the morning.

Just breathing.

Matthew cracked an eye open and smiled lazily. "You're staring."

"You're awake."

"Hard not to be when someone's boring holes into me with their laser gaze."

Angel grinned and tucked her face against his shoulder. "Shut up. I'm appreciating the view."

He laughed—a low, easy sound that rumbled through his chest.

They stayed there a little longer, wrapped in warmth and the kind of peace that came from knowing there were no meetings scheduled for the next seven days. No charts to update. No milestones to chase.

Only each other.

Only this.

—

12:00 PM — Private Beachfront

The villa sat on the quieter side of Panglao Island—no screaming tourists, no resorts blasting dance music into the sky. Just the endless stretch of powder-white sand and the water that faded from turquoise to deep blue without a ripple out of place.

Angel kicked off her sandals at the edge of the porch and jogged down to the shoreline, a wide, mischievous smile breaking across her face.

Matthew followed, carrying two towels and a bottle of sunscreen like some dutiful pack mule. "You're going to burn if you don't put this on first."

"Later," she called over her shoulder.

"You're impossible," he muttered affectionately, dropping the towels.

She turned, standing ankle-deep in the clear water, sunlight bouncing off the sea around her. "Come on, Borja. Live dangerously."

Matthew hesitated—then rolled his eyes, stripped off his shirt, and waded in after her.

The water was cool against his skin, the kind of refreshing that made you forget deadlines and subway construction dust and the endless clatter of command centers.

Angel splashed him as soon as he got close.

"Unprovoked assault," he said, wiping seawater from his face.

"Defense mechanism," she said sweetly. "You looked like you were about to lecture me about UV rays."

He lunged, catching her easily around the waist and lifting her into the air. Angel shrieked with laughter, flailing half-heartedly before Matthew spun and dropped them both into the shallow surf with a giant splash.

They surfaced a second later, breathless and laughing.

"Okay," Matthew said, brushing hair from her face. "Maybe living dangerously isn't so bad."

She pulled him down for a quick kiss, water dripping from her lashes. "Told you."

—

2:30 PM — Villa Patio

Later, they lounged on woven chairs under the wide canopy of a mango tree. Angel had finally agreed to let Matthew slather her in sunscreen, under the very serious condition that he not make any 'maintenance check' jokes.

He barely succeeded.

A tray of tropical fruits sat between them—sliced mangoes, pineapples, bananas—and two glasses of fresh calamansi juice sweating in the heat.

Angel was sketching absently on a notepad—nothing technical. Just lines and loops and lazy designs that made no sense.

Matthew was reading a beat-up novel he found on the villa's tiny bookshelf, one hand resting over Angel's bare foot where it nudged his knee.

He wasn't thinking about tunnels or fiber optics or redundant uplinks.

He was thinking about the slow curve of Angel's smile. The way the light caught the tiny strands of hair at her temple. The way her fingers tapped against the notepad in rhythm with the sea breeze.

"I could stay here forever," he said quietly.

Angel looked up from her doodles. "You'd go crazy without schematics."

"Not if you're here."

She blinked, then smiled that small, rare smile—the one that stripped away every shield she usually wore in public.

"Good," she said. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

—

5:45 PM — Sunset

They walked the beach barefoot, toes sinking into the cool sand.

The sky burned orange, pink, and deep violet, the colors bleeding into the water until the whole horizon looked like a painting.

Angel held her sandals in one hand, her other hand swinging lightly between them until Matthew caught it and laced their fingers together.

"You ever think about how we got here?" he asked.

She tilted her head. "Geographically or existentially?"

He chuckled. "Both."

She thought for a moment. "We built a subway. Then accidentally built a life."

"Efficient," he said dryly.

"Scalable," she added.

He laughed again, and Angel loved the sound of it. Loved that it wasn't weighted by stress or expectation or pressure.

Just happiness.

Just them.

When they reached a quiet bend of the shore where the rocks formed a natural alcove, Matthew stopped.

Angel turned to face him—and found him looking at her like she was still the most incredible blueprint he'd ever laid eyes on.

He stepped closer, touching her cheek lightly.

"I love you," he said.

Simple.

Undeniable.

Angel pressed her forehead against his. "I love you too."

No dramatic music. No audience. No carefully planned ceremony.

Just two engineers, two builders, two stubborn, steady people who somehow found something indestructible in each other.

They kissed slowly, lazily, the tide pulling in and out around their ankles.

And the world, for just a moment, slowed its relentless spin.

—

8:00 PM — Villa Bedroom

The night air was warm and heavy with the scent of the sea. Crickets chirped faintly in the distance.

Matthew lay on the bed, one arm tucked under his head, watching as Angel moved around the room—closing the shutters halfway, dimming the lights to a soft glow.

She slipped into bed beside him without a word, curling close, her head resting just below his collarbone.

He wrapped his arms around her, fitting her against him like they'd been designed that way from the start.

"Promise me something," she murmured into his chest.

"Anything."

"Even when we're back to meetings and late nights and three a.m. emergency calls... we keep this. The quiet. The us."

Matthew kissed the top of her head. "Always."

She tilted her head up, eyes searching his.

"Even if it gets hard?"

He smiled, brushing a thumb across her cheek.

"Especially then."

Angel let out a long, contented breath and tucked herself even closer.

And there, with the ocean singing quietly outside their window and the future stretching long and steady ahead of them, they drifted into sleep.

Two builders.

One system.

Built to last.