The next few days settled into a strange, quiet rhythm.
Asher didn’t say he would come again. He just started showing up.
At first, it was late at night after my shift, carrying takeout or a bag of chips from the convenience store. Then it turned into mornings, waiting outside my apartment with coffee in hand and a half-asleep smile on his face.
“Breakfast?” he would say, holding out the cup like a peace offering.
It felt too simple. Too peaceful. But I let it happen.
I still went to work. I still worried about enrollment, bills, and the future. But somehow, he was becoming part of my routine, like brushing my teeth or setting my alarm clock.
Today, he was in my kitchen, trying to figure out how to cook corned beef without burning it.
“Gamitin mo ‘yung kawali, hindi ‘yung kaldero,”
