After Opal: A Biliran Girl Story

By Ricardo Chicas

Enter the gripping world of 'After Opal,' a riveting tale that follows Amara, a young Filipina whose serene island life is shattered by the fury of a devastating typhoon. In the wake of destruction, Amara finds a new purpose, emerging as an unwavering advocate for climate justice, determined to give a voice to those silenced by environmental catastrophe.

Amara's extraordinary journey takes her across continents, from the corridors of power to the frontlines of communities ravaged by climate change. Along the way, she attracts formidable adversaries who will stop at nothing to halt her mission.

From galvanizing youth movements to addressing global institutions, her activism sparks a global revolution for change. 'After Opal' is a tale of resilience born from adversity, tracing the evolution of a young woman from victim to relentless agent of change.

This heartrending yet pulse-pounding narrative unveils the harsh realities of our climate crisis, while offering a glimmer of hope for a more sustainable future – one that ordinary people can help shape. 'After Opal' serves as a poignant reminder that even in our darkest hours, the indomitable human spirit endures.

Join Amara on a journey that will leave you inspired and awakened to the urgency of our times. Experience the power of transformation and the call for action in this gripping story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ricardo Chicas
• Release date: Aug 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223223870

Book preview

Disclaimer:

This book is a work of fiction, inspired by real-world events. Any similarities to actual persons, organizations, or real-world events are purely coincidental. This story is a product of the author's imagination and is not intended to be an accurate representation of any person, entity, or actual incident. While inspired in part by real people and events, the characters, companies, situations, and incidents portrayed in this book are entirely fictional. This disclaimer applies to all characters, names, places, and incidents in the story.

From The Author

Climate change is the most urgent threat facing our world today. Its devastating impacts threaten vulnerable communities across the globe through intensifying storms, droughts, flooding, and other extreme weather. Although inspired by real events and people, this book is a work of fiction exploring the very real costs of climate inaction.

My intention in writing this story is to highlight the human consequences of the climate crisis. I hope Amara's journey resonates with readers and helps spark much-needed discussions on environmental justice. The climate emergency is not a distant threat, but one affecting all of us in some way already. The time for bold collective action is now, before it's too late.

I am profoundly grateful to those who encouraged me to write this book and share Amara's story with the world. Your faith in my vision inspired me through many long nights writing by lamplight. I hope this book ignites your imagination and that you find Amara's perseverance as inspirational as I do. Most importantly, I hope it moves you to raise your voice in the fight against climate change.

Though one voice alone may seem small, together we can build a chorus calling for the change needed to protect our shared future. Let Amara's journey be a rallying cry. The path ahead remains difficult, but armed with truth and determination, we will prevail. Now is the hour to awaken to our humanity and stand united as stewards of our fragile island Earth.

With hope in my heart,

Ricardo Chicas

[Chapter 1] — Amara

On a sweltering January night in Talisay, the world seemed to hold its breath, trapped in a simmering tension of sultriness and silence. With the only window of Amara Delgado's ninety-six square feet room, beating back the relentless surge of summer's tropical heat, there wasn't even a hint of a breeze to disturb the oppressive atmosphere. Yet, despite the uncomfortable conditions, she sat with her focus utterly undisturbed by the outside world, immersed in the task before her.

Even the gnawing emptiness of her stomach, reminding her of the meals she'd missed the previous day, failed to shake her concentration. She knew that with the break of dawn, slivers of sunlight would start seeping in through the cracks in her barrier against the elements, marking the beginning of another grueling workday. She was just another cog in the relentless machinery of the corporate world, one among many in the Philippines offering quality labor at cutthroat prices to compete in an increasingly aggressive global market.

Despite her exhausting daily routine, Amara was relentless in her pursuit of a better life. The delicate balance between work and university studies was as challenging to maintain as walking a tightrope in a storm. Still, it was a reality she had come to accept.

The vivid memories of her parents growing older each day as they toiled away on their small farm in the Biliran province, their faces etched with determination, fueled her motivation. The small plot of land was the lifeblood of her family, a lifeline that seemed to grow thinner with each passing day. And it was this complex reality that had given her the courage to step away from her loved ones and chase the promise of a better future.

Yet, Amara was not alone in her struggle. Every year, thousands of young souls are pulled away from the warmth of their homes and pushed into the vast, unforgiving world in search of opportunities. They were the youth of a changing world, navigating uncertain waters, some finding the shore while others getting lost in the depths.

In the confines of the small, she hunched over a dense physics textbook in concentration. Fatigue clung to her like a second skin, its weight amplified by the suffocating warmth that permeated the space, even as the early tendrils of dawn began to seep through the cracked blinds. The air was as heavy as the unending equations she was poring over; dense layers of quantum mechanics and thermodynamics demanded her attention despite her exhaustion.

Across the room, the chaotic maelstrom that was on Fatima's side seemed to mock her meticulous nature. An explosion of haphazardly strewn clothing, half-eaten cartons of takeout, and a bed that appeared to have been caught in a tornado, bore witness to the whirlwind life of her roommate. The acrid stench of stale food and unwashed laundry hung in the air, an unpleasant reminder of Fatima's nocturnal escapades that seemed to take precedence over maintaining their shared living space.

As much as the disorder grated on her nerves, a sense of resignation had set in. Amara's eyes flickered with a combination of frustration and helplessness, how she longed for an environment that resonated with her disciplined, intellectual character. Yet the harsh realities of her financial circumstances forced her to endure this constant state of disarray, trapping her in this. Her fingers drummed a rhythmic beat on the worn desk, battling the urge to clear up the mess and restore some semblance of order. But she forced herself to return to the dizzying world of physics, even as the disarray continued to mock her in its silent, insidious way. Her reality was far from ideal, but she had to make it work until she could afford to do otherwise.

As she studied her textbooks and worked on her laptop in the dark room, her gaze wandered to the walls with their fading paint. The histories of those who had come before her seemed to be whispered from the walls, a silent chorus of aspirations and suffering. Despite this, she was determined to move forward; instead of taking it as a cautionary tale, she felt inspired by her predecessors, as if their courage was a rallying cry to encourage her.

During her relentless routine, she found solace in the small, simple pleasures that life offered - a robust and aromatic cup of locally sourced coffee, the vibrant energy of local stores in the heart of the city, and the joyous melody of karaoke songs sung with friends. Each provided an oasis in the arid desert of her daily struggles.

These moments of relief and the memories of her parents tilling their land under the tropical sun served as her anchors, grounding her amidst the swirling vortex of her life. Amara remembered how her father, Juan Delgado, a man as sturdy as the coconut trees he tended, had instilled in her the values of hard work, justice, and the irreplaceable worth of education. Her mother, Rosa Delgado, an epitome of strength wrapped in a tender smile, had imbued in her the importance of self-respect and the power of a well-cooked meal to bring hearts closer. From them, she had learned that a better life was not just a distant dream but a goal worth striving for.

Meanwhile, the sun's rays began to creep into her humble room, each beam a tick on an invisible clock counting down to another day of grueling work. A sense of reality permeated the room as the penetrating light banished the forgiving shadows of the night. Yet, even as this new day dawned, it failed to bring change in the weather. The heat remained, a relentless reminder of the country's ever-changing climate.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a nagging fear took root. As the world waged war on its survival, places like the Philippines bore the brunt of other people choices. The changing weather, extreme heat, and violent storms are all indicators of a climate spinning out of control.

The idea was overwhelming, but it didn't deter her. Instead, it inspired her with an unusual resolve. She wasn't just an individual striving to survive and earn a degree anymore—she had become part of a system that needed redirection before it became too late.

The feeling of missing familial warmth persisted in Amara's heart. It would have been comforting to know she had more support, but the reality was very different from what she wished it to be. The thought of Marco, one of her elder brothers, still stung. He had left their family behind for a multinational company in Singapore, and it felt like he'd forgotten his roots entirely. His letters and calls were far and few between, and it often felt like he was a stranger living in a different world. Amara could not help but wonder if she, as well, would gradually lose her connection to her roots, absorbed into the relentless whirl of city life.

Gabriel, the other elder brother in the family, had gone in a different direction. He was content with his simple life, which consisted of working on their parents’ farm, and had given up on the idea of pursuing further education. The existence of Gabriel provided a striking contrast to the aspirational course that Amara and Marco had chosen. He always had a warm personality and was willing to offer a smile and emotional support, but he also had his own challenges to face. Working on a coconut farm was strenuous, and the meager earnings were barely enough to cover living expenses. It would be unreasonable to ask for anything more from him.

Their father, Juan, was the one who was most opposed to the idea of Amara leaving home. He feared losing another child to the faceless corporate entities that seemed to be devouring the youth and their future with their grueling work hours. He had assured her that he would ensure they had enough to get by, that their small coconut farm had always been sufficient and that she could still study but stay near home. However, he knew well enough that once Amara had made up her mind, it was nearly impossible to dissuade her.

So it was that he, alongside his family, bid her farewell at the port one Saturday afternoon, his heart shrinking as the boat carrying her receded further and further away. As he held Rosa close, he could only hope that the world would be kind to their little girl, that her dreams would come true, and most importantly, that she would remember the way back home.

As the memories fade into the back of her mind, the harsh reality of her present life pulls Amara back. The passing hours make the physics problems on her laptop screen blur and mingle, exhaustion pulling at the edges of her consciousness. She must push on, her final exams loom ominously in the near future. A drop in her grades is not something she can afford if she wants to secure a scholarship for the upcoming semester.

Securing a scholarship has been her ambition since she set foot in Cebu. If she could earn one, she could focus entirely on her studies without needing a job to pay for her modest room, that once was a symbol of her newfound independence, but now felt like a cage. But Amara was resilient, trained by a life of hardship, and she did not allow these inconveniences to deter her from her purpose.

Just one more problem, she said to herself, deciding she was too tired to continue for much longer. The physics problem on the screen is about heat transfer to the environment... Suddenly, the insistent ringing of her alarm clock cuts through the silence. Its shrill tone is a harsh reminder of reality, a declaration that a restful sleep is a luxury she cannot afford.

To her surprise, a glance at the clock revealed she had lost all track of time, staying up through the night engrossed in studying without even realizing it. The sky is beginning to lighten, the first rays of dawn struggling to seep through the hastily sealed cracks of her makeshift window barrier. The promise of another grueling day at work stares at her, but she can't afford the luxury of worrying about it now. Sighing, she resigns herself to the day ahead, gathering her strength for the challenges to come.

Amara glances at her small collection of clothes hung neatly on a worn-out wooden rack. She bites her lip in thought, assessing her options. I don't even know what to wear anymore! she laments, her voice barely audible in the stillness of her room. The folks at the office will think I don't even wash my clothes.

Her wardrobe, meager as it is, consists of three blouses – one a hand-me-down from her friend Leizl, two skirts, and a pair of black pants which, she must admit, is a godsend. The black pants are versatile and easily paired with any other piece.

I should go shopping for clothes this weekend, she muses, already thinking of asking Leizl to accompany her. Leizl had a knack for spotting discounts, a talent Amara admired and wished she had. The thought of having something new to wear lightens her mood, however trivial it may seem.

Choosing the blue blouse and black pants, she adds a pair of small round earrings to complete her outfit for the day. Now, it's time to take a quick bath before she needs to rush to work. She hastily gathers her towel and toiletries and sets off to the shared bathroom, whispering a silent prayer, Please let it be vacant, please let it be vacant.

Just as she rounds the corner, she spots Jerome, one of the other residents, hurriedly making his way toward the bathroom. He barely spares her a glance before disappearing inside, but not before shooting a lewd look at her sleepwear. She cringed at Jerome's lewd gaze but brushed it off. She refused to let that creep ruin her morning and she plops on the floor next to the bathroom door.

It's been almost a year since Jerome's suggestive comments started. At first, they were subtle hints laced into everyday conversation. However, with time, the innuendos had become more blatant, leaving her with an innate repulsion towards the man. Jerome, about fifty, with unkempt hair, a constantly flushed face, and yellowed teeth from continued smoking, was the caretaker of the apartment building. His perpetual attire of shorts and sandals, regardless of the weather, coupled with his lewd behavior, made Amara cringe every time she crossed paths with him.

The excitement that had started to grow within her at the thought of getting new clothes had vanished instantly in Jerome's presence. Many times, she had considered moving out and finding a different place, but her tight budget restricted her options. This small room, despite its downsides, was all she could afford.

Now, not only did she have to wait for Jerome to finish in the bathroom, but she'd also have to endure his leering gaze once he came out. But time was of the essence, and, with a resigned sigh, she kept waiting, leaning against the wall.

As she sat there, her mind wandered back to the physics problems she had been wrestling with earlier. She replayed the calculations in her head, visualized the formulas, and went through the steps methodically. It was her way of preparing for the day ahead, a form of mental exercise to keep her alert and focused. She mentally went over each question, identifying where she had struggled and devising strategies to tackle similar problems in the future.

As the minutes ticked by, the low hum of the waking city outside the small window, the only light source in the narrow corridor housing the bathroom, permeated through the thin walls. She could hear the distant rumble of tricycles, the lively chatter of her neighbors, and the occasional rooster crowing - familiar sounds that somehow added to her sense of purpose.

As she waits for Jerome to vacate the bathroom, the muted hum of the awakening city outside transports her back to her childhood home in Biliran. In her mind's eye, she watches the sun rise over the port, casting a warm glow on the rustling palm trees and gently lapping waves. The air is rich with the mingling scents of salty sea breeze and ripening coconuts, while the distant chirping of tropical birds adds a melodious soundtrack to the picturesque scene.

She remembers the simple, thatched-roof huts where her neighbors lived, their livelihood mainly depending on the bounties of the sea and the land. Fishing nets, meticulously woven and spread out to dry under the sun, adorned most front yards at the port town. While at her house, located at walking distance from the sea, the usual scene was to see coconut husks piled high, ready to be dried to turn them into coir for matting, cleaning pots, or just as fuel for fires.

The port would bustle daily with fishers returning from their night-long ventures, their small boats heavily laden with the day's catch. When the farm and house chores permitted it, the women, including her mother, Rosa, would gather around to help sort and clean the fish, their hands adept and swift. These moments were often punctuated with laughter and light-hearted banter, turning the laborious task into a community bonding exercise.

Amara's favorite was watching the children racing along the shore, their innocent laughter echoing across the beach, their footprints washed away by the coming and going waves. She had been one of those children once, her biggest worry being how quickly she could outrun her friends. She cannot help but yearn for the carefree spirit and profound sense of belonging that had permeated her childhood in Biliran, both of which feel so far away now.

Despite the hardships and simplicity, the people of Biliran had been contented, their hearts full of love for their land and each other, a vivid disparity to the city where she now resides, where life is fast-paced, and relationships are fleeting.

As the echo of the past still reverberated in her mind, Amara recalled the vibrancy of the market days in Biliran. Twice a week, the usually quiet and peaceful town would come alive with the hustle and bustle of townsfolk selling their wares and goods. The farmers would come down from their farms nestled in the hilly areas, bringing baskets brimming with fruits, vegetables, and root crops. The fishermen, too, would bring their freshest catch of fish, squids, and crabs to sell.

The vibrant market, with its kaleidoscope of colors and the din of voices bargaining, selling, and socializing, was something she sorely missed. Amara remembered her younger self wandering the stalls with wide-eyed wonder, clutching her mother's hand as they haggled over the price of ripe fruits or picked out the best-looking fish for supper.

She missed the sense of community and the feeling of being part of something bigger than oneself. Here in the city, she was just another face in the crowd, another person trying to make ends meet, struggling to carve out a future from the unforgiving grind of city life.

While lost in her reminiscence, she allowed her mind to stroll further back, towards a time when she would accompany her father, Juan, to their small coconut farm. Those trips were always an adventure for her younger self. Juan would expertly shimmy up the tall trunks of the coconut trees, armed only with a sharp bolo and his lifelong familiarity with his trees.

Amara would watch in awe as he skillfully hacked away at the tough husk, revealing the precious harvest within. Back on the ground, they would break open the nuts, the sweet, thirst-quenching water, within a treasured reward for their hard work. How different the dirt and dust of the city felt under her hands compared to the cool, loamy soil of their farm.

Her memories, vivid and colorful as they were, contrasted sharply with the drab, almost monochrome scene around her. Even the sounds were different, the tranquil melody of the waves against the shores of Biliran now replaced with the constant drone of traffic, harsh cries of street vendors, and the overall cacophony of city life.

It was the scent she missed the most, though. The salty tang of the sea breeze, the freshness of the air after an afternoon rain shower, and the rich earthiness of the soil were things she realized she had taken for granted.

She smiled at the memory of her father's laughter, hearty and infectious, often accompanied by one of his many stories. He had an anecdote for everything - how he'd met her mother, built their house, and started their farm. Those stories typically came with wisdom, advice, or life lessons - and were always told with love.

Her smile faded a little as she thought of her mother, always busy, always working. Her hands were calloused, but her touch was always gentle. It was she who taught her the value of hard work, the importance of being kind, and the power of dreams.

From the stories of her parents, the teachings of her village, and the trials of her own life, Amara knew she was stronger than her circumstances. The city was ruthless, and her situation was far from ideal, but she had something most didn't - a deep-seated determination to change her destiny and the tenacity to keep going.

To kill time, she decided to check the news on her old, barely functional mobile phone, an inheritance from one of her father's uncles. The cracked screen and worn buttons were a clear divergence from the sleek, shiny devices she saw in the hands of her colleagues, but she cherished it, nonetheless. It was her second most prized possession, coming second only to the small gold ring her mother had given her when she left home, the origin of which remains a mystery to this day.

The headlines were promising. Several American companies to open operations in IT Park, one article proclaimed. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips; the grim situation momentarily forgotten. It was good news for the Philippines, and the prospect of potential job opportunities filled her with hope. The thought of one day owning her own house, wearing elegant clothes, and maybe even working as a part-time university professor, seemed within reach. This dream propelled her forward, pushing her to endure the hardship of her present circumstance.

The rude, guttural sounds emanating from the bathroom reminded her of her immediate reality. Jerome. His mere presence was a blight on her optimism. Letting out a resigned sigh, she decided to distract herself by launching the trendy game everyone seemed to be playing these days.

Just as she started strategizing her retaliation against the latest raid on her digital castle, she felt a presence. Looking up, she found Jerome leering at her, his yellow teeth grinning. A shiver of disgust ran through her, and she quickly arranged her top, casting him a look of icy contempt. Unaffected, Jerome continued his grin, humming a cheerful tune as he sauntered off, oblivious to the discomfort he left in his wake.

Despite the lingering disgust, Amara wasted no time heading for the bathroom, the need for haste more urgent than ever. The chipped tiles felt cold under her bare feet, a blatant distinction to the humid air that clung to her skin. Turning the tap, she winced as the initial surge of cold water hit her. The lack of a functioning water heater was a nuisance she had long since accepted. The icy touch, however, was a sharp reminder that she was already running late, so she bathed in haste, soaping, and rinsing with an efficiency honed by repetition.

Emerging from the bathroom with damp hair clinging to her face and neck, she quickly brushed it back into a simple ponytail. There was no time for any embellishments. Besides, the humidity would only make any effort futile. She dressed in her selected outfit, the blue blouse feeling cool against her freshly washed skin and slipped on the black pants.

Finally ready, she looked at her reflection in the small mirror on the wall. The woman looking back at her was a world away from the young girl she was back in Biliran, but the determination in her eyes was the same.

With a final check of her bag, ensuring she had all she needed for the day, she set off, rushing down the stairs hoping that any public transport would be waiting outside to whisk her away to work.

Bursting through the building door, Amara was greeted by the familiar sight of a colorful Jeepney rolling to a stop just a few steps away. A vibrant blend of cultural tradition and American influence, these vehicles were the veins that carried the lifeblood of the frenetic activity of Cebu. They were not only a convenient way to get around but also a testament to Filipino resilience and ingenuity.

She quickly hopped aboard, handing her fare to the passenger beside her. Like a well-practiced dance, the money moved from hand to hand until it reached the driver. This simple act of collective trust and cooperation never failed to make her feel part of a community, no matter how anonymous and fleeting.

As the Jeepney jerked forward, Amara settled into her seat, her gaze shifting from the faces inside the vehicle to the shifting scenes outside. Every stop brought a fresh wave of humanity – market vendors with their vibrant produce, office workers in crisp suits, school children giggling behind their hands, and elderly folk sharing the day's gossip.

Her ride took her through the heart of Cebu, the city slowly waking up with the rising sun. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee from nearby cafes, the tangy smell of fruit from market stalls, and the occasional waft of diesel fuel all melded together to create a uniquely Cebu's own fragrance.

Soon, the Jeepney approached the expansive entrance of the IT Park, a beacon of development and a source of city pride. Amid towering structures of steel and glass were firms from a multitude of industries that had found a home here. With each passing day, this slice of the city was becoming an ever more integral part of the world's increasingly challenging business landscape.

Despite the dawn's freshness, the park was already buzzing with life. Employees from various companies scurried about, coffee in one hand and a phone in the other. Fitness enthusiasts jogged or practiced yoga, seeking a Zen moment before the day began. The array of restaurants and food stands was a testament to the multicultural melting pot that the park had become, their tantalizing smells promising culinary adventures from around the globe.

Amara felt inexplicably drawn to the cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells representing the microcosm of cultures within the city. There were food stalls that catered to every palate: from the ubiquitous 'turo-turo' eateries serving comforting Filipino dishes like adobo and sinigang to the trendy vegan bistros that peddled avocado toasts and kale smoothies and exotic Indian, Thai, and Mediterranean establishments. The mingling scents of spices, cooked rice, and roasting meats were a mouthwatering symphony that kept her stomach grumbling in anticipation of lunch, since due to her tardiness, breakfast was out of the question.

Amara had been stunned when she first arrived at the IT Park. The dizzying heights of the buildings, the constant flurry of activity, and the variety of people and cultures were a far cry from her simple island home. But now, it was a part of her daily life and she navigated the thrumming energy of the park with the same ease as the tranquil streets of her hometown.

The billboards advertised the latest tech gadgets, business courses, and fashion trends. The imposing towers of companies like Accenture, Microsoft, and Wipro rose majestically against the Cebu skyline, a testament to the city's status as an IT hub.

After a lively journey, her Jeepney finally pulled up to her destination: a large, sleek building with the words' SynthCorp Technologies' emblazoned in silver. With a final glance at the buzzing park behind her, Amara stepped out of the Jeepney and into the building, ready to begin another day.

The lobby was a study contrasting to the vibrant world outside. Where the IT Park was a whirlwind of colors, sounds, and activities, here it was an island of calm, marked by elegant simplicity. Its pristine marble floors, high ceilings with a network of energy-efficient lights, and glass walls offering glimpses into the sleek office spaces above created a stark yet welcoming setting.

The staff at the reception was a manifestation of SynthCorp's professionalism. Dressed in business attire, they conducted themselves with an affable air. Amara recognized some familiar faces: the building's receptionist Michelle, always ready with a warm smile and pleasant greeting, and Ronald, the security guard, whose firm stance was balanced by a kind demeanor and readiness to assist anyone who needed assistance.

She approached the security counter, showed her ID, and received a nod from Ronald before she was on her way to the elevators. The usually busy lobby was still relatively peaceful at this early hour, the hum of activity yet to reach its peak. It lent a sense of tranquility to the grand space.

Walking toward the elevator had become a part of her morning routine. With each step, she felt a surge of purpose, a sense of belonging. In this space, she was not merely Amara Delgado, the girl from a humble town in Biliran. She was a valued member of SynthCorp Technologies, an active participant in the pulsating heart of the tech industry.

As she reached the elevators, her gaze drifted to the company's mission statement, proudly displayed on the wall: Innovation and Progress, Hand in Hand. The first time she had read those words, they had seemed intimidating, a distant goal. However, they were her mantra, echoing her dreams and ambitions.

She pressed the elevator call button and, as she waited, she took a quiet moment to collect her thoughts. Another day, another opportunity to gain experience, contribute, and get closer to her dream.

The whooshing sound of the elevator door opening provided a much-needed respite from the intense race against time. Amara quickly slipped into the compartment with several others, all of whom shared the same hurried energy. After pressing the button for her floor, she leaned against the cold, metallic wall of the elevator, her heart pounding in rhythm with the seconds ticking by. As the doors finally slid open to her floor, she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Exiting the elevator, she walked briskly towards the proximity access control panel. The anticipation built up in her like a crescendo, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. With a flick of her wrist, she swiped her card, her breath hitching at the beep that followed, granting her entry.

That was close, a familiar voice echoed from behind her. Amara turned around to meet a warm, comforting gaze. Leizl! Good morning, she greeted, her voice filled with relief.

Leizl's long, raven hair framed her kind face as she extended a small, white-wrapped package toward Amara as in greeting. The enticing aroma of food wafting from it was an instant salve to Amara's hunger. Here, I got a sandwich for you; I imagine you haven't eaten yet.

Grateful, she accepted the sandwich, her stomach growling in agreement. Thank you so much. You have saved my life, as always, she said, her words muffled as she bit into the sandwich.

Leizl laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Don't think it's free. Today, you're treating me to coffee, she said before sauntering off toward their shared workspace.

Their friendship was a boon in the corporate chaos they found themselves in. Their paths had crossed at a recruitment office, where Amara had lent Leizl a pen to fill out a crucial application form. Since then, they have become good friends, supporting each other through different challenges at work. While Leizl crunched numbers in accounting, she dealt with clients over the phone, trying her best to disguise her accent.

These interactions gave Amara a new perspective. She saw any slight or rude comment as an opportunity to improve herself, not as a setback. She had even started a game with her colleagues to keep track of calls where the client did not realize they were speaking to someone overseas. The loser would treat everyone else to a night of karaoke.

Leizl, too, was no stranger to adversity. Originally from Quezon City, she had moved to the metropolis of Cebu IT Park, seeking better opportunities. Despite the challenges, both found solace in their shared experiences and dreams, their friendship providing a comforting respite in their relentless pursuit of success.

Stepping onto the labyrinthine office floor, Amara took a moment to adjust to the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Rows upon rows of cubicles dotted the vast workspace, interspersed with meeting rooms enclosed in glass. Ambient noises - the ceaseless chatter, the clatter of keyboards, the occasional ring of a telephone - created a symphony of its own, a testament to the bustle of the corporate world. The overhead fluorescent lights bathed the room in a stark white glow, bouncing off the pale gray cubicle partitions and the white desktops.

Their cubicles, tucked away in a corner, were a small oasis of personal space amidst the uniformity. Pictures of loved ones, colorful sticky notes, and small knick-knacks broke the monotonous gray, transforming the cubicles into a home away from home. Amara's cubicle had a small photo of her parents back home pinned right above her monitor, while Leizl had a tiny porcelain cat sitting on her desk, a testament to her love for animals.

Around them, the office buzzed with activity. On the other side of the aisle, their coworker, Arman, an IT specialist with thick glasses and a perpetually furrowed brow, was already deep in code. At the same time, their manager, Michael, was caught up in a phone call, pacing around his office. Jessica, the office's receptionist, and a vibrant character known for her quirky outfits, was seen laughing at some joke while sorting through a pile of mail.

Slipping into her swivel chair, Amara switched on her computer, the monitor blinking to life. After a few moments of loading, her inbox appeared on the screen, with customer queries waiting for Amara to address them. Sighing, she took a quick sip of her lukewarm coffee and started typing, her fingers moving swiftly over the keys.

Leizl was already immersed in spreadsheets, her eyes darting back and forth between her calculator and the computer screen. The mundane routine, while taxing, was not without its moments of camaraderie and friendship. The initial rush subsided as the morning rolled on, and the rhythm of a typical day at the office.

The morning flew by in a flurry of phone calls, emails, and paperwork. The air inside SynthCorp Technologies buzzed with activity, with each employee engrossed in their world of responsibilities. Amara juggled between calls, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she patiently handled each customer's queries. Each hour was a step closer to her dream, a step towards a better life for her family back home.

Her desk phone rang once more. Before picking it up, she stole a quick glance towards Leizl, who was engrossed in her spreadsheets, her face set in concentration. A short beep signaled the beginning of yet another conversation with a customer on the other side of the world.

Finally, during a lull in the calls, Amara turned towards Leizl, seizing the opportunity. Hey, wanna go hit the shops this weekend?. She asked casually, though her hesitant tone betrayed her shyness.

Leizl, looking up from her work, a smile spreading across her face, replied in an excited tone, You know nothing pleases me more. I saw an advertisement about massive discounts at the mall just this morning. She was practically beaming now, her earlier concentration forgotten. I've been looking for the perfect excuse to suggest the same thing. And besides, it looks like your black trousers have seen better days. It's time for a new pair, perhaps red?

The two of them shared a laugh, breaking the monotony of the morning's workload. The prospect of a shopping trip, the normalcy of it, was a welcome respite from their often-stressful workdays. It was a gentle reminder that amidst the grind of their jobs, they were still young women, eager to live and enjoy life to its fullest.

As the morning faded into the afternoon, the telltale signs of lunchtime began manifesting. The chatter increased, the aroma of food wafted from the pantry, and a general restlessness swept through the office. Amara saved her work, the line graph for customer satisfaction rates staring back at her from the screen. The prospect of a short break and a shared lunch with Leizl was a welcome respite.

Lunchtime at SynthCorp Technologies was a welcome respite for the employees from the grind of their morning routine. The company subsidized cafeteria was an initiative that catered mainly to those on modest incomes, offering food at affordable prices. At first, she and Leizl had been thrilled by the idea until they grudgingly admitted that the deep-fried pork was less greasy than what the cooks passed off as a salad.

They helped themselves to a plate of traditional white rice, accompanied by a stew of what appeared to be pork and carrots. As Amara chewed thoughtfully, trying to decipher the elements of her meal, Leizl interrupted her with a conspiratorial glance.

Girl, that cutie Mark can't take his eyes off you, Leizl whispered with a smirk. I think it's time you acknowledge his existence, Leizl murmured. Her voice was low, yet not low enough to evade the ears of those sitting next to them.

What are you talking about? Amara asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

Leizl rolled her eyes at her feigned innocence. Don't play dumb. You know that poor Mark rushed to the cafeteria the moment we stepped in. He hasn't stopped staring at you. I think he has not even realized that he's sitting with an empty plate.

Amara's face turned a deep shade of red at Leizl's accusation. She quickly tried to mask her embarrassment, mumbling, C'mon, it's not like that, She protested. We've hardly even talked. I mean, sure, he seems sweet, but...

Leizl shook her head, her tone exasperated. Girl, I see the way you look at him. Just admit you're into Mark already! If you don't make a move, I'm gonna have to intervene, Leizl said with mock exasperation.

Blushing even more now, she hastily objected. Don't you dare do anything rash. I don't want people to get the wrong idea about me. Besides, you know my priority is to finish my studies. I don't have time for such things. Having said this, she hurriedly finished her lunch and got up to leave the room, feeling a tad guilty about her brusque reaction but smiling to herself at the thought of the ever-kind Mark.

It had been six months since a fortunate assignment led to her onboarding Mark at SynthCorp, kindling a connection that lingered on her mind. What initially seemed like a tedious task of showing a newcomer around turned out to be the highlight of her day. Mark made the process quite enjoyable with his sincere eyes and genial demeanor. His wavy, messy hair, the mole on his neck that lent him a uniqueness, the faint smell comforting in a way she couldn't quite place - everything about him left her enchanted.

Sometimes she wished the onboarding sessions could last forever so she could linger in his presence a little longer. But whenever she found herself getting lost in his features, she would snap back to reality, reminding herself of her responsibilities. The thought of her family and the hardships they had been through would bring her back down to earth, the small smile on her face replaced by a tight line of determination. Not now, she would tell herself; there would be time for such emotions later. Right now, she has dreams to achieve and responsibilities to shoulder. And with this resolve, she would plunge back into her work, putting her feelings for Mark on hold, at least for the time being.

On the other hand, Mark seemed oblivious to the subtle glances he was receiving from across the room. He was too engrossed in Amara's sweet, lilting voice that seemed to fill the space around him. He was memorizing every word she spoke, every movement of her lips, the brief appearance of her tongue as it formed certain words - rosy and tender against the white of her teeth.

To Mark, it felt as though Amara radiated a light that enveloped everything around her. She reminded him of brighter days, a hint of the best times yet to come. She was almost angelic in her demeanor, making him believe that angels weren't merely characters from works of fiction.

As the lunch hour drew to a close, Amara and Leizl headed back to their workstations. The afternoon stretched out before them, full of tasks and challenges that needed tackling.

The clock marked the end of another workday, as Amara packed up her belongings, her eyes instinctively sought out Mark. He was still seated at his workstation; his forehead creased in deep thought as he worked on his latest project. She hesitated momentarily before flashing a small smile and bidding him a soft, Night, Mark, She murmured shyly as she left for the day.

How about we go shopping today instead? Amara casually proposed to a slightly distracted Leizl while they waited for the elevator, whose eyes instantly lit up at the idea of an evening and night spent window shopping and trying on stylish clothes, even if they didn't end up buying anything.

Absolutely, I love the idea. SM it is! Leizl agreed, referring to one of the biggest shopping malls on the island.

I'm not sure; it's not like I have much money, Amara confessed, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Don't make that face; you're bringing me down too, Leizl playfully rebuked, feigning sadness. Don't worry, I heard there are lots of sales this month, so I'm sure we'll find you something nice. And just like that, they agreed to spend the evening together, momentarily forgetting work, problems, and studies and cherishing the joy of being young and carefree.

As soon as they left the SynthCorp Technologies building, they raced to SM. The mall was buzzing with activity, with shops boasting brightly lit signs advertising huge discounts. Despite their different personalities, both found common joy in the hunt for the perfect outfit at the ideal price.

Navigating through the racks of clothing, Amara's eyes were drawn to a pair of bright red pants. Unsure, she looked at Leizl, who nodded enthusiastically. Go on, try them. They'll look fantastic on you, she encouraged.

Leizl's enthusiasm was infectious, so she decided to try it. The pants were a perfect fit, and the radiant color lent her a fresh sense of confidence. When she stepped out of the changing room to model them for Leizl, her friend let out a shriek of approval.

You look amazing! You absolutely have to get these. Leizl insisted, and, looking at her reflection, she realized she agreed with her.

Their exploration of the mall continued, each passing store offering another opportunity for discovery and laughter. They sampled perfumes in a fragrance store, leaving a trail of floral and musk in their wake, and browsed through racks of colorful clothing, each adding a dash of vibrancy to the otherwise long and weary day.

Amidst their shopping escapade, they decided to take a small break to grab a bite. The mall's food court was bustling with life, the aroma of delicious cuisines wafting through the air. They settled in a small place that served Filipino cuisine. Amara couldn't resist