CHAPTER 5 - "THE f*******n DISCOVERY"
1345 Words
Rain fell softly that night—hindi malakas, pero sapat para magparamdam ng lungkot.
Ang mga patak nito ay tumatama sa bubong ng Montenegro Artisan Bakery, tila kumakatok sa mga lihim na gustong lumabas.
Amber had stayed longer than usual.
She told herself it was because she needed to “review the monthly reports,” but the truth was simpler—she didn’t want to go home.
Not to that mansion where chandeliers shone too bright and conversations were too polite.
Dito, sa bakery, kahit amoy-pawis at harina, may totoo.
At isa lang ang dahilan kung bakit gusto niyang manatili: Miguel.
---
“Ma’am Amber?”
Boses niya—deep, calm, at may bahid ng pagod—nagmula sa doorway ng backroom.
“Amber,” she corrected automatically, not looking up from her clipboard.
“Pag ganitong gabi, walang Ma’am.”
“Sorry,” he murmured. “Force of habit.”
“Then change the habit.”
She finally glanced up—and that’s when she noticed him.
He wasn’t wearing his usual white uniform.
Instead, he had on a faded gray hoodie, gloves slung from his belt, and a bruise near his jaw.
“Miguel…” she frowned. “Anong nangyari sa’yo?”
“Ah—nadulas lang kanina habang nag-aayos ng mixer.”
He avoided her gaze, pero halata. The lie was too smooth, too rehearsed.
Amber stood, her heels echoing softly on the tiled floor.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Tahimik.
Tanging tunog lang ay ulan sa labas at mabagal na paghinga ni Miguel.
Finally, he sighed.
“Okay… fine. Pero please, huwag kang magagalit.”
“I’m already curious,” she replied, crossing her arms.
---
Miguel walked toward the back door and gestured for her to follow.
Walang nagawa si Amber kundi sumunod, kahit bumibilis na ang t***k ng puso niya.
They stepped into the dim alley behind the bakery—at doon, sa dilim, may nakita siya.
A motorcycle.
A duffel bag.
And… a pair of fighting gloves.
Amber froze.
“Miguel… ano ‘to?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he picked up the gloves—leather, worn, may dugo pa sa gilid.
“Side job,” he said simply. “Underground fights. Every Friday night.”
Amber’s jaw dropped. “You’re serious?”
Miguel smiled, but there was no joy in it. “Lily’s dialysis costs ten thousand a week.
Ang sweldo ko dito… barely half.”
So this was it. The secret behind those bruises. The reason for his quiet exhaustion.
“Miguel, that’s insane!” she blurted. “You could get hurt—killed even!”
“Mas mabuti nang ako kaysa siya.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“Hindi ko kayang mawala ‘yung kapatid ko, Amber. Hindi ko kayang manood lang habang unti-unti siyang nauubos.”
Amber’s anger softened, replaced by something deeper—fear and admiration mixed like cream and coffee.
“Miguel… bakit hindi mo sinabi sa’kin?”
He looked away. “Bakit ko sasabihin? Para ipagbawal mo? Para tanggalin mo ako sa trabaho?”
“Hindi ako gano’n,” she whispered.
“Hindi mo pa siguro alam kung sino ka,” he said quietly.
“You live in a world where people don’t bleed. Ako, bawat galaw ko, may sugat kapalit.”
That hurt more than any insult could.
---
Amber took a hesitant step forward.
Then another.
Until she was standing right in front of him, close enough to see the rain glisten on his eyelashes.
“Show me,” she said softly.
“Huh?”
“‘Yung totoo. The part of your life you keep hiding.”
Miguel shook his head. “Amber, hindi ito laruan. Madumi ‘to. Delikado.”
“Then let me see what danger looks like.”
He stared at her—really stared—like she was both the dumbest and bravest person he’d ever met.
“Hindi ka titigil, no?”
She smiled faintly. “You already know the answer.”
---
They drove through the wet streets of Manila.
Amber sat behind him on the motorcycle, holding onto his jacket, heart racing.
Hindi siya sanay sa ganito—sa amoy ng ulan, sa bilis ng hangin, sa kabog ng makina na halos sabay sa t***k ng dibdib niya.
And yet… she’d never felt more alive.
Finally, they stopped at a warehouse near the pier.
Dozens of people crowded inside, chanting, betting, cheering.
The air smelled of sweat, beer, and blood.
“Welcome to my other world,” Miguel said quietly.
Amber swallowed hard. “This is insane.”
“I told you.”
“Pero andito na ako, ‘di ba?”
She tried to smile, but her hands trembled slightly.
Miguel’s gaze softened. “Then promise me one thing—stay in the back. Huwag kang lalapit.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “But only if you come back in one piece.”
He chuckled. “Deal.”
---
The announcer roared, “Next up! El Panadero versus Tigre Moreno!”
Amber blinked. “El Panadero? That’s you?”
“Bakit, gusto mong El Billionario’s Daughter?” he teased, pulling his hoodie over his head.
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile.
Then, the bell rang.
And just like that—he changed.
The quiet baker disappeared.
In his place stood a fighter—focused, fierce, and burning with something primal.
Each punch was precise. Each dodge, fluid.
Amber could barely breathe as she watched him move, blood and sweat glistening under the lights.
When he finally knocked his opponent down, the crowd exploded in cheers.
But all Amber saw was the exhaustion in his eyes—the kind that no victory could erase.
---
After the match, she ran to him.
“Miguel!” she called, her voice trembling. “Are you okay?”
He smiled, bruised and bleeding. “Panalo, ‘di ba?”
“Panalo pero basag,” she muttered, grabbing a towel and wiping his face. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” he whispered. “Pero ikaw, bakit ka nandito?”
Amber froze. “I—”
Miguel’s fingers brushed against hers. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is not the version of me you deserve.”
Her chest tightened.
Deserve?
Who decides that?
“Miguel…” she whispered, “you think I only see you as a worker? You think I care about what you look like right now?”
He looked at her—really looked.
And in that moment, something broke.
The walls between them, the pretenses, the rules—all turned to ash.
---
The rain poured harder outside, thunder rumbling like a warning.
Amber and Miguel stood in the narrow hallway behind the ring, inches apart.
“Amber,” he murmured, voice hoarse, “kung ipagpapatuloy natin ‘to—”
“Walang ‘if,’” she cut in.
“Wala akong pakialam kung anong sabihin ng mundo.”
He shook his head. “Madudurog ka.”
“Then let me choose what breaks me.”
Their eyes locked—fear, want, and something dangerously close to love.
For a split second, they both forgot who they were supposed to be.
Miguel’s hand lifted, brushing her cheek, leaving a smear of blood that looked almost like paint.
And then—he stepped back.
“I can’t,” he whispered. “Not like this.”
Amber felt the sting, but she understood.
He wasn’t rejecting her—he was protecting her.
---
Later that night, as Amber rode home, the city lights blurred through the window like tears she refused to shed.
In her chest, something new was stirring—something neither money nor status could silence.
She had seen the real him.
And now, there was no going back.
Meanwhile, Miguel stood alone under the rain, his gloves hanging heavy around his neck.
He looked up at the gray sky and whispered, “Baka ito na ‘yung laban na hindi ko kayang panalunin.”
- Writer
