CHAPTER 4 -" THE ONE WHO OWNED ASHES "
1090 Words
Night had already blanketed the city, but the air still smelled faintly of sugar and smoke.
Sa loob ng Montenegro Artisan Bakery, halos tahimik na—maliban sa tunog ng oven na unti-unting humihina, parang pusong napagod sa pagtibok. The day’s last batch of bread was cooling on the racks, golden brown under the soft glow of the fluorescent lights.
Amber stood by the counter, arms crossed, watching Miguel clean the workbench. His shirt clung to him, damp with sweat, forearms flexing with every motion. She shouldn’t be watching—pero hindi niya mapigilan.
Bakit ba ganito?
Bakit parang ang hirap huminga kapag nandito siya?
“Wala ka bang uuwian?” she asked, her tone sharper than intended.
Miguel glanced up, surprised by her sudden voice. “May inaasikaso pa ako sa likod, Ma’am Amber,” he said, polite but distant. The kind of distance na parang sinadya—out of respect… or out of fear.
Amber hated it. That distance. That invisible wall.
“Hindi ko naman sinabing huwag kang magtrabaho,” she murmured, walking toward him. “Pero alam mo bang overtime na tayo ng dalawang oras?”
Miguel smiled faintly. “Sanay na po ako. Sa totoo lang, mas gusto kong ganito. Tahimik. Walang pressure.”
She tilted her head, curious. “Walang pressure? You’re in a Montenegro bakery. Kahit ‘yung mga pandesal natin may family legacy.”
Miguel chuckled, but his eyes darkened. “Baka kasi sa akin, Ma’am, hindi lang tinapay ang pinaglalaban.”
Amber frowned. “Anong ibig mong sabihin?”
He looked at her for a long second—long enough for her to feel the heat crawl up her neck—then shrugged. “Nothing. Nagpapa-drama lang po ako.” He picked up a tray of burnt rolls and smirked. “Tulad nitong mga ‘to. Hindi lahat ng nasusunog, sayang.”
Hindi lahat ng nasusunog, sayang.
The line echoed in her mind like poetry wrapped in pain.
She took one step closer, their proximity charged.
“Kung gano’n, bakit mo pa tinuloy?” she whispered.
“Ang alin po?”
“‘Yung pagluluto ng tinapay na alam mong susunog.”
Miguel smiled again, a sad, knowing curve of his lips.
“Baka kasi minsan… may mga bagay na mas maganda kapag may tama ng apoy.”
Amber’s breath hitched.
It wasn’t just about bread—and both of them knew it.
---
A soft breeze entered through the open window. Outside, the city hummed—cars, laughter, faint music from a nearby bar. But inside that small bakery, the world had narrowed down to just two people, one heartbeat apart.
Amber looked away first, pretending to fix the counter. “You’re poetic for a baker.”
“Baka kasi minsan, ‘yung poetry, nasa ordinaryong tao lang,” Miguel replied, still wiping the table. “Hindi kailangan ng mamahaling salita para maramdaman.”
That line hit deeper than she expected.
Ordinaryong tao.
Something Amber had never been allowed to be.
---
After a pause, Amber took a deep breath. “Miguel…”
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“Call me Amber. Pag ganitong late na… huwag na ‘yung ‘Ma’am.’”
He froze. “Baka hindi po tama—”
“It’s fine.” She cut him off softly. “We’re both tired. No rules after closing.”
Their eyes met. For a moment, the air stilled.
There it was again.
That dangerous quiet between two people who shouldn’t care, but already do.
---
Later that night, they stepped outside together.
The street was empty, the lampposts flickering like tired souls. Miguel carried a brown paper bag of leftover bread. Amber, surprisingly, had offered to walk with him—something she’d never done for any employee before.
“San ka ba umuuwi?” she asked.
“Tondo po. Medyo malayo.”
“Malayo nga,” she said, glancing at his hands gripping the bag. “Hindi mo ba iniisip na sayang ang oras sa byahe?”
“Hindi po. Kasi sa biyahe, doon ako nakakaisip.”
“Ng ano?”
He hesitated, then said quietly, “Ng kung paano ko pa mabubuhay ang mga taong umaasa sa akin.”
Amber’s chest tightened. “Your sister?”
Miguel nodded. “Oo. Si Lily. Nasa ospital pa rin. Kailangan ng dialysis twice a week.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, meaning it.
“Wala pong dapat i-sorry.” He gave a small smile. “Basta gumising pa siya bukas, panalo na ako.”
Panalo na ako.
Such a simple phrase.
And yet it carried a weight Amber had never known.
---
They reached the edge of the parking lot. The Montenegro limo was waiting, gleaming under the dim light. Miguel stopped a few feet away, as if an invisible line divided them.
“Dito na lang po ako, Amber,” he said gently. “Hanggang dito lang ang kaya kong lakarin.”
She turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”
He smiled faintly. “I mean… iba ang mundo mo. Diyan sa ilaw. Ako, sanay sa dilim.”
The words stung her more than she expected. “Hindi mo kailangang ilayo sarili mo.”
“Baka kasi mas masakit kung masanay ako sa liwanag… tapos biglang patayin.”
Amber’s lips parted, but no words came out.
He wasn’t wrong.
She was the heiress. He was the worker. And yet, somewhere between flour and fire, they found a spark.
Miguel turned to leave, but Amber called softly, “Miguel…”
He stopped.
“Bukas… magdala ka ng gitara mo.”
He blinked, surprised. “P-paano n’yo po nalaman—?”
“Nakita ko ‘yung case sa locker mo. Akala mo hindi ko mapapansin?” Her lips curved slightly. “Maybe after work… you can play something.”
He smiled, hesitant but sincere. “Kung ‘yan ang utos ng boss…”
“Hindi utos. Invitation.”
For the first time, Amber smiled—real, unguarded.
And Miguel, against all logic, smiled back.
---
When Amber finally entered her limo, she stared at her reflection on the tinted glass.
Behind her polished appearance, she saw something raw—something she hadn’t seen in years.
Maybe this is how danger begins—not with chaos, but with comfort.
Somewhere in the distance, Miguel walked toward the dark street, paper bag in hand, heart heavier yet somehow warmer than before.
And for both of them, that night would linger—
like the scent of bread that refused to fade.
- Writer
