Ang sikat ng umaga ay dahan-dahang pumasok sa pamamagitan ng manipis na kurtina, naglalabas ng maiinit na sinag ng liwanag sa buong kwarto habang itinataas ko ang kumot at umupo sa kama. April 19, 2024 — a Friday. The room was quiet, but there was a comforting stillness in it, a peace I'd learned to embrace. I stretched, my hand instinctively cradling the gentle swell of my belly, a constant reminder of the new life growing within me. Three months along now, and though each day carried its own surprises, this morning felt calm.

Kinuha ko ang aking MacBook, ang malamig na ibabaw nito ay pamilyar sa aking mga daliri, at dinala ko ito habang pababa ako sa hagdan. The house was empty at this hour; Mags and my mom were already off to work, the rhythmic click of the front door locking behind them still a ghostly echo in my ears. The faint scent of coffee and bread lingered in the air, and I smiled as I stepped into the dining area.

Sa mesa ay maayos na nakalatag ang agahan — isang plato ng sinangag na may bawang, mga scrambled eggs na may piraso ng kamatis, at ilang hiwa ng pritong isda. My mom, ever thoughtful, always ensured I had something warm to start my day. Umupo ako, ang malambot na unan ng silya sa ilalim ko ay nakakaaliw, at kumuha ng sandali upang namnamin ang katahimikan. Ang bahay ay tila iba kapag ako lang mag-isa, na parang ito ay para lamang sa aking mga iniisip.

I opened my MacBook, its screen blinking to life as I forked a bite of eggs. The blank document from the previous night stared back at me, but instead of feeling daunted, I felt a flicker of anticipation. A week had passed since I'd started this new manuscript, a project that had sparked a flame I thought I'd lost. Words came more easily now, trickling into the page as I typed. It felt like finding my voice again, an echo of who I was before and who I was becoming.

Isang buwan na mula nang umalis ako sa Kinspire Architects at bumalik sa Mariveles, Bataan. That decision had once loomed over me, heavy with what-ifs and maybes. I'd planned my life with such precision, each goal a steppingstone toward a version of success I thought was unshakeable. But life, with its winding paths and quiet revelations, had other plans.

And that's okay.

I glanced around the room, letting my gaze rest on the familiar trinkets and frames filled with memories. I'd once thought this house, with its soft corners and faded paint, was too small for my dreams. Now, it felt like a cocoon where I could breathe, reassess, and build something new, even if that meant starting from scratch. The scent of the sea drifted through the open window, mingling with the fresh air and rustling leaves outside. It grounded me, reminded me that it was okay to pause.

My goals had once been grand and glittering, a towering structure that I'd climbed tirelessly. But now, here I was, three months pregnant, alone at the dining table with a plate of home-cooked food and a half-finished manuscript, realizing that the simpler things were enough. Maybe even better. I took another bite, the warmth of the rice and fish filling me in a way that extended beyond hunger.

Ang mga daliri ko ay gumagalaw sa ibabaw ng keyboard, ang malambing na tunog ay sumasama sa katahimikan ng umaga. Nagsusulat na naman ako, at iyon na ang sapat sa ngayon. I'd left behind a career that no longer spoke to me, exchanged ambition for authenticity, and let myself wander into this new chapter that was both familiar and utterly uncharted.

And if I didn't have it all figured out just yet, if my path was more a winding trail than a straight road, that's okay, too. I would take it one moment at a time, trusting that, just like the morning light filtering into the room, clarity would come in its own time.

***

The warm glow of the early morning sun filtered through the car window as we cruised along the skyway. Ang mga kamay ni CL ay matatag sa manibela, ang kanyang mukha ay kalmado at mahinahon, ang bahagyang kunot sa kanyang noo ay patunay ng kanyang karaniwang konsentrasyon. Sumandal ako sa upuan, hinayaan ang aking tingin na maglakbay sa labas patungo sa mga matatayog na gusali na nakahanay sa abot-tanaw. Manila was alive, bustling even from afar, a patchwork of ambition and dreams carved into concrete and steel.

Ito ay isang bihirang sandali ng katahimikan sa pagitan namin, ang ugong ng makina ang pumuno sa espasyo habang papunta kami sa Celestia Medical Center para sa aking anomaly scan at prenatal check-up. Twenty weeks in, and though the initial wave of fatigue and nausea had subsided, the butterflies of anticipation hadn't. Today was May 13, 2024, Monday, and I had been 19 weeks pregnant.

"Hey," I said, breaking the silence, my voice soft as if the question carried too much weight to be spoken aloud. Tumingin si CL sa akin, ang kanyang mga mata ay mainit tulad ng dati kapag natagpuan ang akin, bago muling tumingin sa kalsada.

"Hmm?"

Nag-atubili ako, ang mga daliri ko'y naglalaro sa laylayan ng aking damit. Ang mga salitang pinipigilan ko sa loob ng ilang linggo ay tila masyadong mahalaga upang itago pa.

"What if..." I began, taking a deep breath. "What if I never go back to being an architect again?"

Bahagyang tumaas ang kanyang mga kilay, ngunit nanatiling kalmado ang kanyang ekspresyon. He didn't rush me. He never did.

"I've been thinking," I continued, my voice gaining strength. "I finished architecture school. I accomplished so much in that field. I had experiences—wonderful ones, but also heavy ones. And I realized something... I didn't do all of that because I wanted to. I did it because I had to. Because I got used to it. I just went with the flow, letting life take me wherever it wanted."

I paused, my eyes searching his profile for any sign of judgment, but I only found patience. Encouragement.

"But now... now I know I don't have to live like that anymore. Along the way, I realized something important. I'm the driver of my own life. The captain of my own ship." I smiled faintly, the metaphor tasting strange yet freeing on my tongue. "And if the path I've been taking for so long is getting darker and darker, if I can't find the light anymore, then I can change my direction. I have the power to do that. To go wherever I want to go."

CL nodded slightly, his eyes softening.

"What if the new path I want to take is easier?" tanong ko, halos pabulong ang boses. "What if it's lighter, more comfortable? I used to think I needed to take the hard road. That the challenges, the discomfort, the things outside my comfort zone—that's what made me grow. I believed in it so deeply. But what if this new path doesn't serve my growth? What if it's not about being better or bigger, but about being... happy?"

Ang mga labi ni CL ay umarko sa pinakamaliit na ngiti. Hinayaan niyang lumipas ang ilang sandali bago sumagot, ang kanyang boses ay matatag, kalmado. "Then it's time to let go of the idea that we can only grow and heal when we're uncomfortable."

Ang kanyang mga salita ay nakabitin sa hangin, mabigat at magaan nang sabay.

"You heal every time you have a good day, Shan," he continued. "You heal every time you feel light. Every time you smile, or laugh, or let yourself enjoy the moment. You heal every time you have fun, every time you choose what feels right—what makes things easier. You don't have to carry the weight of the world to grow. There's healing and growth inside your comfort zone too. A lot of it."

My breath hitched, and I turned to look at him fully, my heart swelling at the simplicity and truth in his words.

"There's nothing wrong with choosing the lighter path," he added. "Sometimes, that's where you'll find the most peace. And isn't that what we're all trying to find?"

A quiet laugh bubbled out of me as I reached over, intertwining my fingers with his. His hand was warm and steady, just like him. "I love you," I said softly.

Tumingin si CL sa akin, may malambot na ngiti sa kanyang mga labi. "I love you too," he said.

And in that moment, I realized how much his words made me love every single choice I had made to get here. The paths I took, the ones I left behind, and the one I was just beginning to carve—they were all mine. I leaned back into my seat, my hand resting on my belly, and let myself feel the quiet joy of it all.

"You know," he began, his voice steady, "whatever you choose to do, I'm okay with it, as long as you're happy." He glanced at me again, the sunlight catching the amber flecks in his eyes. "To be honest, if you never want to go back as an architect, that's okay too."

My chest tightened, not from fear but from an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

"There's a moment," he continued, "a moment in our lives when we just wake up and realize we don't want certain things for ourselves anymore. And that's okay. It just happens. Walking away from something because we no longer want it for ourselves—that's more than valid."

I reached across the console and took his hand, my fingers intertwining with his, warm and familiar. He gave a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "It's okay to let go of that version of yourself that could have been, simply because you no longer want to become that person. Not doing something because you don't want to is more than valid," he told me, his voice steady and sure, like an anchor in a storm.

"You know," I said, my voice almost a whisper, "you're going to be a great father." He chuckled, surprised.

"Talaga?"

"Oo," tumango ako. "Because you're a good son, a good older brother to Mags, a good friend to everyone who knows you, and..." I smiled, feeling the warmth spread from my heart outward. "You're a good husband to your wife. To me."

The corners of his mouth lifted, and his eyes shone with an emotion that needed no words. In that moment, the rush of the world outside seemed to slow, leaving only the two of us and the quiet anticipation of what was to come.

He let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, but his eyes shone with an emotion that needed no words.

"And," I added, holding his gaze, "you're a good doctor to your patients. You're a good person in this cruel world."

The corners of his mouth lifted, and his eyes glistened with a mixture of pride and humility. Sa sandaling iyon, tila bumagal ang agos ng mundo sa labas, naiwan kaming dalawa at ang tahimik na pananabik sa kung ano ang darating.

The morning air inside Celestia Medical Center hummed with the usual rhythm of a bustling hospital—soft footsteps, quiet conversations, the occasional ringing of phones. The polished floors gleamed under the glow of ceiling lights, reflecting the careful precision that defined this place. As we walked through the hallways, the familiar scent of antiseptic mixed with the warmth of brewed coffee from a nearby nurse's station.

Nurses and doctors passed us, offering friendly greetings to CL, their faces lighting up at the sight of him. "Good morning, Dr. Marasigan," a nurse said with a bright smile, nodding toward me. "Ar. Marasigan." There was a quiet sense of pride in their voices—after all, I was married to one of the most respected doctors in this hospital. CL's nearly two years as an oncology fellow had made him not just a colleague but a beloved part of the Celestia Medical Center family. Next month, he would begin his third year of fellowship, a testament to his dedication and relentless pursuit of excellence.

As we made our way to Dr. Vannie's office, I felt a flutter of nerves and excitement. Today marked my 19th week of pregnancy, and this appointment held special significance. It wasn't just another check-up; it was the anomaly scan, a detailed ultrasound to ensure our baby was developing as expected and to check for any potential concerns. Pero higit pa roon, ngayon malalaman namin kung magkakaroon kami ng babae o lalaki.

"You ready?" CL asked, his eyes catching mine with a mixture of anticipation and tenderness.

"More than ready," I said, a smile tugging at my lips.

Dr. Vannie, a warm woman with a compassionate smile and wise eyes, greeted us as we stepped into her office. "Ah, the Marasigans! I've been looking forward to seeing you two," she said, her voice full of genuine affection. She was not just CL's colleague but a dear friend who had shared late-night shifts, victories, and moments of support through the most challenging days.

After the preliminary greetings and routine checks, it was time. The room fell into a quiet hush as the ultrasound technician prepared the equipment. Bumilis ang tibok ng puso ko, kasabay ng banayad na tunog ng makina habang hinahaplos ng malamig na gel ang aking balat. The screen flickered, revealing the outline of our baby. I felt CL's hand slip into mine, his grip firm yet trembling slightly.

"Everything looks good," sabi ni Dr. Vannie, ang boses niya'y kalmado at nakakapagbigay ng kapanatagan. "Now, let's see if we can find out who this little one is."

I held my breath, my eyes glued to the screen. And then, the words came—"It's a girl."

For a moment, the room seemed to pause. CL's eyes welled up, the emotion breaking through his usual composed exterior. A single tear rolled down his cheek, and he let out a soft, incredulous laugh.

"A girl," bulong niya, ang boses ay puno ng saya. Lumingon siya sa akin, kumikislap ang mga mata. "I've always dreamed of this," he admitted, his gaze filled with wonder. "A little version of you."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound a mix of happiness and teasing. "Oh no, CL. I have a feeling she's going to be a little version of you—strong, kind, and maybe even stubborn."

He chuckled, squeezing my hand tighter, and the room once again seemed to be just ours, a world within the walls of the medical center where the noise faded and only love remained.

"She's going to be perfect," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, but certain. And in that moment, with our daughter's heartbeat filling the room, I knew he was right.

***

It was October 19, 2024, a crisp Saturday morning. Sunlight poured through the tall windows of CL's condo, casting a warm, golden glow across the polished wooden floors. I felt the quiet hum of anticipation in the air, my heart racing with excitement as I sat at the dining table with my MacBook open. My fingers flew over the keyboard, exchanging emails with my publisher—an institution cherished for its legacy of championing Filipino authors. They had published my first book when I was just a high school student, and now, here we were again.

An email notification pinged, and I quickly clicked it open. My eyes scanned the message, and a thrill surged through me. The editor-in-chief had written to tell me that my newest book was done with printing and would be released in bookstores and online nationwide next week.

"Oh my gosh! It's happening!" I shouted, the joy bursting out of me. The sound echoed through the condo, pulling CL out of the bathroom with a towel in hand, his hair still damp. He stepped into the room, a smile already forming at the sight of me beaming with happiness.

"Ano'ng meron?" tanong niya, may halong aliw sa kanyang boses.

"My book!" sabi ko, halos hindi mapigilan ang aking kasiyahan. "It's finished, and it's going to be out next week!"

Bago siya makasagot, isang bigla at kakaibang pakiramdam ang dumapo sa akin. Ang ngiti ko ay naglaho nang maramdaman kong dumadaloy ang init. Tumingin ako sa ibaba, lumaki ang mga mata ko sa gulat.

"CL," I said, my voice a mix of nervous laughter and disbelief. "My water just broke."

His expression shifted immediately, the doctor in him taking command. The towel fell from his hands as he came to my side, his touch calm and reassuring despite the urgency that flared in his eyes.

"Alright," he said, squeezing my hand firmly. "Let's get you to the hospital."

Thankfully, Celestia Medical Center was just a street away from his condo. CL had rehearsed this moment countless times, balancing his roles as both husband and doctor. He helped me to my feet, grabbing the pre-packed hospital bag we'd kept by the door for weeks.

The hallway blurred around us as we moved, the world narrowing down to the thrum of our steps and the pounding of my heart. As we reached the hospital, the city outside carried on with its usual rhythm, unaware that our lives were about to change forever.