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

November 29, 2024 — 9:30 PMRockwell, Their Apartment

The city was a muted canvas outside the balcony window—clusters of gold and silver light against a velvet sky.

Inside, the apartment was warm. Quiet. Only the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional clink of a spoon against a coffee cup filled the air.

Angel sat curled up on one end of the couch, barefoot, wearing one of Matthew's hoodies that practically swallowed her whole. She absently scrolled through an engineering journal on her tablet, but her eyes weren't really focused on the text.

Matthew sat on the other end, laptop closed, glasses pushed up into his hair, a legal pad resting on his knee. But he wasn't writing either.

They were both… hovering.

Restless.

Not with each other—but with something unsaid.

Finally, it was Angel who broke the quiet.

"You ever think about… what's next?" she asked.

Matthew turned his head. "After Sentinel?"

Angel nodded. "After all of this. After tunnels and stations and dashboards."

He set the legal pad aside and leaned back. "Sometimes."

She tucked her knees tighter under herself. "I don't mean quitting tomorrow. God knows the Pulse system still needs at least three more years of stabilization. But..." She trailed off, searching for the words. "I guess... I'm wondering if we just keep doing this forever."

Matthew was quiet for a beat, processing.

Then he said, "I don't think we were built to do only one thing forever."

Angel blinked. "That's... weirdly comforting."

He smiled softly. "You're more than your projects, Angel. You always have been."

She looked down at her mug, fingers tracing the rim slowly. "It's scary, sometimes."

"What is?"

"Letting go of momentum."

Matthew nodded, understanding deep in his bones. "It is."

Another quiet stretched between them—but it wasn't heavy. Just… thoughtful.

Angel set her mug down carefully on the table.

Then, voice softer than before, she asked, "Do you ever think about... family?"

Matthew stilled.

Not in fear.

Not in surprise.

But in something closer to awe.

Because even though they'd joked about it before—casual, theoretical, pushed off for 'someday'—he realized this was the first time she was really, seriously asking.

He turned fully to face her.

"Yeah," he said. "I do."

Angel searched his face for any sign of hesitation.

Found none.

Matthew leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Not right away. Not before we're ready. But yeah. I think about it."

Angel exhaled slowly. Relief mixed with something she couldn't quite name.

"What about you?" he asked gently.

She thought about it for a long moment before answering.

"I used to think I wasn't made for it," she admitted. "That I'd be too much. Too... structured. Too impatient."

Matthew smiled. "You built a transit system with patience. You lived through project setbacks, resource droughts, impossible deadlines. You think raising a tiny human would scare you more than Mayor Velasco's public tantrums?"

Angel barked a laugh. "Okay, fair point."

He leaned closer, voice softer now. "You'd be incredible."

She looked at him, something open and unguarded in her gaze. "We both would."

Matthew reached out, threading his fingers with hers.

They sat there like that for a while—connected by something bigger than deadlines and blueprints.

Dreams.

New ones.

—

December 2, 2024 — 8:00 AMSentinel HQ, BGC — Office

Things at Sentinel returned to a steady hum.

Aurora Phase 3 was hitting milestones again. The glitch crisis had faded into a case study. Teams were slowly adjusting to the new normal of Angel and Matthew being Angel and Matthew.

But privately, in the stolen spaces between meetings and site reviews, something else was quietly growing.

Hope.

Possibility.

A future that wasn't just built in concrete and steel, but in laughter and early mornings and maybe—just maybe—tiny feet running down hallways someday.

Angel caught herself daydreaming once, staring at a blueprint but imagining a nursery layout instead.

It terrified her.

And thrilled her.

Later that afternoon, when Matthew caught her lingering by the window in the executive lounge, her coffee untouched, he only smiled.

He knew.

Without either of them saying a word.

He knew.

—

December 5, 2024 — 7:00 PMRockwell, Their Apartment

The apartment smelled like garlic and butter and something sweet baking in the oven.

Matthew stirred a pot on the stove while Angel set the table.

It was a quiet, domestic rhythm they'd fallen into easily without planning.

Without effort.

As Angel lit the candles on the table—laughing to herself at how corny it would have seemed a year ago—Matthew appeared behind her, arms sliding around her waist.

"You happy?" he asked softly into her hair.

She closed her eyes.

Breathed in.

And realized, almost with wonder, that she was.

Fully.

Completely.

No reservations.

No unfinished chapters waiting to be written.

"I'm happy," she said.

Matthew turned her gently to face him.

"I'm thinking," he said slowly, "we could start designing a different kind of blueprint."

Angel smiled. "Family edition?"

He nodded, smiling back.

She looped her arms around his neck. "Then let's build it."

"Carefully," he teased.

"With seismic redundancy," she agreed.

"And emotional scaffolding."

"And no estimated completion date," she said, mock-stern.

"No rush," he promised.

They kissed then—soft, lingering, a seal on a new foundation they hadn't even realized they'd already begun laying.

—

10:00 PM — Rockwell Balcony

The city lights winked at them again from a distance.

Angel leaned her head against Matthew's shoulder, her fingers tracing absent patterns on his sleeve.

"Think we'll ever be ready?" she asked quietly.

Matthew squeezed her hand. "We won't be ready."

Angel laughed softly.

"But we'll do it anyway," he said.

"Together."

He kissed the top of her head.

And for once, Angel Cruz—builder of systems, tamer of chaos, master of control—was perfectly content to trust the uncertain road ahead.

Because she wouldn't be walking it alone.

They had already built the strongest foundation there was:

Each other.

And whatever came next—

Tiny feet.

Sleepless nights.

A new kind of blueprint—

They would build it, steady and sure, just like they always had.

One choice at a time.

One heartbeat after another.

Together.