MY EX IS NOW MY BOSS

Chapter 7

Mikaela didn’t give herself time to feel anything else. Parang may nag-click sa sistema niya—parang sabi ng sarili niya: "No more breakdowns. No more drama. Just keep going." Kaya ayun, she threw herself into work like her life depended on it.

She came in early, stayed late. Overtime kahit hindi kailangan. Multitasking to the max. Nagva-volunteer para sa mga tasks na hindi naman sakop ng role niya. Sa totoo lang, para siyang robot—functioning on caffeine and repressed feelings.

“Grabe ka, Ma’am Mik. Di ka na nga secretary, para ka nang Operations Head,” biro ni Aira isang umaga.

“‘Di pa nga ako tapos sa reports for the executive team,” Mikaela replied habang walang tigil sa pagta-type.

But everyone could see it—she was pushing herself too hard. Even her usual poise was fraying around the edges. Messy na yung ponytail niya by 3 p.m., may eye bags na rin, and she started spacing out during short lulls in her schedule.

Then came Tuesday.

Ordinary day. Gray skies, strong coffee, and a to-do list as long as EDSA.

She was in the middle of summarizing the minutes from yesterday’s executive alignment meeting when suddenly—

“Uy! MIKA!” sigaw ni Lou, halatang excited.

Mikaela looked up. May flower delivery sa desk niya. A tall, stunning bouquet of sunflowers. Bright yellow petals, arranged beautifully in a clear vase, standing proudly like sunshine in a sea of gray.

“OMG!!! Kanino ‘to galing?” tanong ni Dana, agad nang sumugod sa desk ni Mikaela.

Aira read the card aloud, voice high-pitched with kilig: “'To my sunshine—kahit lagi kang pagod, huwag mong kalimutang ngumiti. Love, Martin.’”

“SANA ALL!” sabay-sabay na sigaw ng mga kasama niya.

Mikaela rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the blush crawling up her cheeks. She bit her lower lip, trying not to smile too wide. But it was useless.

“He really sent me flowers?” she muttered, staring at the bouquet.

“Baka guilty siya,” biro ni Lou.

“Or baka in love lang talaga!” dagdag ni Dana. “Yung sinundo ka last week? Grabe ang pogi nun. Parang model!”

“Tsaka ang bait pa,” ani Aira. “Tulungan naman namin siyang i-lift yung mga dala niya, tapos he thanked us one by one. May ganun pang boyfriend?”

Mikaela laughed softly. “You’re all so OA.”

But deep down, her heart warmed.

It was such a Martin move. Quiet, thoughtful, perfectly timed. And somehow, it got through to her, past all the numbness she’d been hiding behind.

She stood up and carried the vase, thinking she’d place it in the pantry para hindi siya mainis sa dami ng teasing ng mga tao. As she turned the corner to the executive hallway—

Click.

The door opened. Brent stepped out from a meeting room, sleeves rolled up, folder in hand.

Their eyes met.

Time didn’t stop, but it certainly slowed down.

He saw the flowers immediately. His gaze dropped from her face to the bouquet in her hands. And something shifted in his expression.

It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even surprise.

It was colder than that—something sharp and unreadable.

Like he saw something he didn’t expect to sting... but it did.

Brent didn’t say anything. Didn’t pause for long. He simply nodded slightly and walked past her like nothing happened.

But Mikaela felt it. The drop in temperature. The tightening in her chest.

She tightened her grip on the vase and headed for the pantry, trying to steady her breathing.

It’s none of his business. It’s not. It’s not.

But why did it feel like a blade slicing through her calm?

Later that evening, the office had emptied out, except for her and a few others finishing late-night work.

The bouquet sat beside her laptop. Loud and cheerful. Unapologetically present.

Mikaela stared at the flowers long after their vibrant yellows had blended into the dimness of the office light. The scent of fresh sunflowers lingered faintly in the air—comforting, grounding—but even that couldn't drown out the echo of Brent’s stare in her head.

That look.

Cold. Distant. But unmistakably cutting.

She had seen it before, in another lifetime. A version of Brent who didn’t want to admit he cared but always, always gave himself away in his silence. It wasn’t what he said—it was what he refused to say.

And today, he said nothing.

Just that one glance, one nod, and he walked away like she was nothing more than a stranger holding someone else’s love.

It shouldn’t bother her. It shouldn’t still have this power.

Pero bakit ganon?

Bakit pakiramdam niya may bumigat sa dibdib niya buong araw?

“Focus, Mika,” she muttered, pulling her eyes away from the flowers and back to her screen.

The spreadsheet in front of her blurred a little. She blinked, tried to shake off the haze, and kept typing formulas and numbers like it would somehow replace the weight in her chest with logic.

Hindi siya dapat nag-iisip. Hindi siya dapat naaapektuhan.

But emotions don’t work like deadlines. Hindi mo siya pwedeng i-postpone. Hindi mo siya pwedeng sabihing “next week na lang, busy ako.”

That look—Brent’s look—was now imprinted in her thoughts like a bruise that refused to fade.

“Why did it feel like betrayal?” she asked herself quietly, the question lingering in the stillness of the near-empty office.

She had no answers.

Hindi naman siya may kasalanan. She didn’t flaunt the flowers. Hindi niya naman ginusto na makita siya ni Brent doon. It wasn’t even about him.

Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be.

But maybe… maybe she had wanted him to see.

That part of her—the small, insecure, long-wounded part—maybe it wanted him to know she was loved now. That someone stayed. That someone chose her every single day.

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, letting her head rest against the cushion.

Her phone buzzed again.

Martin: Did you eat na? Don’t skip dinner ha. Don’t make me show up with food again like last week.

A small smile tugged at her lips.

Martin.

So consistent. So kind. Walang games. Walang ego. He just showed up—in ways Brent never learned how to.

Martin: Love you, my sunshine. Call me if you want to talk, okay? Kahit silence lang tayo, okay lang sakin.

Her heart clenched.

He was so good to her.

And yet, guilt curled around her stomach.

Because despite everything Martin had done—despite the flowers, the messages, the quiet love—Brent’s silence still haunted her louder.

Why?

Maybe because Brent had been her first real heartbreak. Yung klase ng pag-ibig na binigay mo ng buo yung sarili mo kahit alam mong pwedeng masira ka. Yung klase ng pagmamahal na walang backup plan. No safety net.

And when he left, when he disappeared without explanation, she was left picking up shards of herself for months.

That kind of pain leaves residue, she thought. Even when the wound is scarred over, the skin underneath remembers.

She stood, unable to sit still any longer, and made her way to the pantry.

The corridors were quiet now. Most of the lights were already off, except for a few flickering LEDs near the exit signs. She placed the vase gently on the corner table near the pantry window, watching as the city lights blinked through the blinds.

“Para hindi na ako ma-distract sa desk,” she whispered to no one in particular.

But really, she just didn’t want to look at them right now. Not when her feelings were so tangled.

She stared out the window, arms crossed, her fingers digging slightly into her sleeves.

What am I doing?

She felt suspended between two lives.

The present: where Martin loved her with a kind of peace she never thought she deserved.

And the past: where Brent burned her with passion, yes—but also left her out in the cold when she needed him the most.

Was I still comparing? Or worse… still hoping?

Her chest ached at the thought.

No. No more false hope. No more revisiting ghosts.

She went back to her desk, head low, heart heavy. But she didn’t cry. Not this time.

Instead, she did what she always did when emotions became too loud—she drowned them in productivity.

One email. Two reports. A call log. A follow-up to a supplier. Task after task, until her to-do list looked like a battlefield, and she stood at the center victorious, but exhausted.

Past 9 p.m., her phone buzzed again.

Martin: Still at work? Should I wait for you to get home?

She stared at the message, unsure of how to respond. How could she tell him that her body was here, but her mind was trapped in a hallway from earlier that day?

Mikaela: Don’t wait up. I’ll be a while pa.

Martin: Okay. I left the lights on. And nag-order ako ng dinner for you. It's in the fridge.

She closed her eyes.

How do you love someone who gives you everything, when your heart still aches for something broken?

It wasn’t fair. Not to him. Not to her.

But these were the growing pains of healing. Nobody ever told her that moving on didn’t always mean forgetting. Sometimes, it just meant choosing—again and again—to stay in the present, even when the past tried to pull you under.

And tonight, the pull was strong.

A sudden tap on her desk snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Ma’am Mika, uwi na po ako,” sabi ng janitor, giving her a small wave.

She nodded. “Ingat ka, Kuya Rey.”

He left, and once again, she was alone.

Silence.

She looked around the office, now emptied of noise, gossip, laughter. No Dana teasing her about Martin. No Aira poking fun at her busy-ness. Just silence and that stupid ache inside her chest that wouldn’t go away.

She opened her journal—hidden behind a locked drawer—and wrote.

Just a few lines.

I’m tired of pretending this doesn’t affect me.

Brent looked at me like he hated that I was okay.

But Martin made me smile today. And I want to smile more.

I don’t know how to let go of a ghost that still lives in my bones.

But I want to try. For me. For Martin. For peace.

She closed it, locked the drawer again, and packed her things.

The walk home was quiet. The city was winding down. Neon lights flickered above sari-sari stores. A couple of students laughed outside a 7-Eleven. A street vendor packed up his cart.

Mikaela walked with her headphones on, music low, her mind louder than the city around her.

When she arrived at Martin’s apartment, the door was slightly ajar—like he always did when he knew she was coming home late.

She stepped inside.

Warm lights. The scent of garlic rice and adobo. A soft playlist humming in the background.

Martin appeared from the kitchen in a loose gray hoodie, holding a bowl.

“Tamang-tama,” he said with a smile. “Kakain ka pa ba?”

Mikaela dropped her bag and stared at him.

There was something in his eyes. Calm. Steady. Waiting. No judgment. No pressure.

She didn’t speak.

Instead, she walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and buried her face in his chest.

Martin froze for half a second—then returned the hug, tighter than usual.

“Tired?” he asked gently.

She nodded.

He kissed her forehead. “Let’s just rest.”

And she did.

For now, that was enough.

Even if her heart was still sorting through the ruins of the past, tonight she was in the arms of someone who built new things with her.

And that had to count for something.