Chapter 4: Ghosts in the Inbox
571 Words
The aroma of buttery pan de sal filled the air as Mira leaned against the glass wall of their condo unit, her fingers curled around a warm mug of tablea chocolate. Outside, BGC buzzed with the usual city chaos—honking cars, street chatter, and the distant rumble of a delivery motorcycle zooming past. Inside, however, it was their little bubble of calm. Their home. Their joy.
“Mommy Miraaaa!” Kent’s voice rang out from the living room, his laughter bouncing off the walls. “Daddy’s making scrambled eggs again and it smells weird!”
Mira chuckled softly, gently patting her belly. “Tell Daddy to just toast the pan de sal. That’s his only specialty.”
From the kitchen came Eitan’s dramatic gasp. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know this baby wanted eggs!” He peeked out with a spatula in hand and flour on his cheek. “Your cravings, not mine!”
She smiled at the sight of her husband—still in his pambahay shirt, hair slightly disheveled, but glowing in his new-Dad energy. It warmed her heart every time. The love he had for Kent, the anticipation he carried for the unborn child— it was all more than she ever dared ask for.
But the smile on her lips faded the moment her phone lit up again.
Buzz.
Zander Cruz sent a message.
Another one.
She didn’t open it. Not right away.
Instead, she stared at his name.
Zander.
A name she hadn’t said aloud in years.
A memory in the shape of a person. One tied to job fairs and late-night bus rides and a version of herself who was still building dreams from scratch.
“Mommy, what’s that?” Kent asked, sliding onto the couch with his toy truck. “You’re looking at your phone weird.”
“It’s... nothing, baby.” She tucked the phone under a pillow. “Just someone from a long time ago.”
But her heart wouldn’t stop its quiet thudding.
Eitan placed the plate on the table and set a glass of water next to it. “Pan de sal, scrambled eggs, and tsokolate-e. Pang-umagang buntis combo.” He grinned and kissed the top of her head. “The princess gets whatever she wants.”
Mira sat down, trying to focus on the moment. The present. The love. But her thoughts kept flickering like a flame. And that name on the screen refused to go away.
She reached for her phone again, the pull too strong to ignore.
The message loaded.
“Hey Mira... it’s been a while. I saw your name online. Can we talk?”
She read it three times. She could almost hear his voice again — calm, slightly deep, with that Laguna accent he never bothered to hide.
Another message came in. Just below it.
“Do you remember Laguna? 2015? The job fair? I never forgot.”
Her breath caught.
One more message.
“I think I still owe you an explanation.”
That did it.
Suddenly, the sound of the spoon clinking against her mug, the scent of chocolate, the distant laughter of Kent—they all blurred.
And just like that, her mind transported her to a different time.
Laguna Technopark. 2015.
The heat. The noise. The job fair banners fluttering. The crowd.
And a stranger with a crooked smile offering her bottled water and a place in line.
- Writer
