ᜎᜒᜄ᜔ᜆᜐ᜔

Glancing over at Val’s mother, Kimmie expressed a gracious smile, and said, “Buko juice po, salamat!!” She watched as the older woman began prepraring her meal before returning her attention back to Valerio. "I don't mind..." she softly replied as she set her purse down and got comfortable. "I'm managing..." she murmured. Already assuming he knew what happened to her. After all, he was previously the Chief of Police and of course news travel fast. "And I don't want to worry her." she continued as she looked over at his mother. "I guess on the bright side, I'm not dead. I wouldn't be much of a podcast topic now would I?" she deadpanned with a nonchalant shrug. It was a morbid take, but at this rate she's coping with her trauma would dark humour. "...And yourself? Aside from the pandesal and your adorable nanay, how have you been?"

*Okay lang: i'm alright

*Oo na, ang swerte naman si tita…masipag naman ang anak mo!: that's true, you're so lucky auntie...your son is very hardworking!

Val leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he gave Kimberly a knowing look. Her ‘okay lang’ might’ve worked on someone else, but not him. “Busy with work, huh?” he repeated softly, not calling her out directly but letting the weight of his tone speak for itself. He wouldn’t press—not here, not now.

When Kimberly praised his mom’s ability to run the shop, Val laughed under his breath, casting a fond glance towards his mother, who was cheerfully opening a coconut up with surprising force. “She’d run this place in her sleep if she could. I’m just here to make it look like I’m useful.” 

He then took a seat next to her, lowering his voice. “But seriously, are you really okay, though?” He asked gently. “If you need anything, you let me know. Bread, ears, bad jokes—whatever helps. You’ve got enough on your plate already.” As if he wasn’t in a boat relative to hers. 

Kimberly’s dark humor made him pause. His eyes softened as he caught the deadpan look she shot his way. “Hey, that isn't funny. No offense, but you wouldn’t make a good podcast topic,” he replied, his voice low but steady. “Some of us would rather hear your voice in person.” He didn’t elaborate, but there was a weight behind his words, an unspoken gratitude that she was still here—alive, even if hurting. 

Oh, shit!

Reflexively, she reached out to Val and only stopped because of the glass display between them. “Oh my god, why are you apologizing? It’s an accident and you’re the one who got hurt.” When he moved around the counter to her side, she quickly looked down at his hand. “It doesn’t look too bad now but you might want to get it checked…” If he could still feel pain, then it wasn’t the worst kind of burn, but she knew that it’d be uncomfortable later. 

“When you flavour it with banana extract and your hand, I can’t say it sounds delicious.” She kept her tone light. “I feel bad. I took some of your attention and your hand got all messed up. You know what, let me pay for the lost trays of bread along with my original order. It’s the least I can do.” And if he didn’t accept that, she planned on offering to cover his medical expenses. With all the heaviness in her life, she wasn’t sure if she could leave this incident on her platter. “If not that, then let’s arrange a deal for later… I hate to see bread wasted.” 

Val blinked at her rapid-fire mix of concern, jokes, and offers, momentarily caught off guard by her easy warmth. Kuya Val. Hearing it from her felt strange but comforting—like trying on a pair of old shoes and finding they still fit. But in this instance, he had never worn the shoes, and yet they fit perfectly. 

Val chuckled nervously, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “You’re too kind, but seriously, no need to pay for the bread. Accidents happen, and we always bake extras for moments like this. As for my hand…” He flexed his fingers carefully, trying to ignore the slight sting. “It’s not so bad. I’ve had worse from a hot pan or a stubborn oven door. My mom would probably disagree that I'm the stubborn one, though.”

His mother’s voice chimed in from the back, “Of course, I do! Hoy, Val, ang tigas ng ulo mo.”*

Val gave Reyna an apologetic shrug, his cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. “See? Always a lecture waiting for me.” He appreciated her concern, though, and couldn’t help but feel a small pang in his chest. She really is thoughtful, he mused, the weight of their unspoken connection lingering in the back of his mind.

“Yep, always Val, never Valerio,” he clarified, catching the way she squinted at the name on his apron. “And everyone calls me kuya around here. Even the titos and titas...” But the term felt both surreal and grounding in her voice, as if fate was nudging him to say something—anything—about their connection. But the moment slipped past, and he chose to stick with the lighter tone. “The apron? A gift from my… really good friend,” He had hesitated, realizing the irony, but quickly covered with, “He said I needed to look more professional. Not sure if it’s working if you think it’s cute.”

He leaned against the counter, giving her a playful grin. “As for holiday gifts, I can definitely recommend the place he got it from. They do custom embroidery too—perfect for something personal. I think it’s a place in San Francisco… let me check my texts, hold on–” He took out his phone and scrolled down his messages while his uninjured thumb hovered over Santi’s last text, now over a week ago. How long had he stared at that text?

Catching himself, he tapped the counter lightly and added, “–And hey, no deals necessary for the bread. Just keep coming back and supporting the bakery. Maybe next time, I’ll let you try a fresh tray before I decide to burn myself again.”

—

"Thanks for the treat," he murmured, catching the subtle shift in Val's expression. "You're really good with them." Their excited squeals over the magic water pulled a laugh from deep within him. He thought about his own childhood, those uncomplicated days when everything seemed possible. Now, watching his kids discover their own magic moments made everything click into place. "This place is exactly what they needed," he said, observing Zephyr's careful investigation of the jelly while Lyra steadied the glass. "What we all needed, really." Something flickered across Val's face—a shadow of loneliness he recognized from his own reflection. That look of someone who spent their days creating joy for others while carrying their own quiet emptiness. He knew that feeling too well. "Hey," he offered, keeping his tone casual. "Next time we'll bring some treats home for you too."

Val’s smile faltered for just a moment as Noah’s words settled over him. Good with them. He watched Zephyr and Lyra with their drink, their laughter spilling out into the bakery like sunshine. Once, Val had imagined moments like this for himself—a family to come home to, kids to dote on, a life filled with uncomplicated joy.

That dream felt like another lifetime now, something out of reach. He thought about Santi, about how tangled yet separated their lives had become. The future he’d once pictured seemed to evaporate the longer he lingered in this moment, replaced by the sharp reality of where he stood now.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Val cleared his throat and offered Noah a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks. Yeah... I, uh, used to think I’d have a family of my own someday.” He paused, glancing away briefly. Used to. “Guess life had other plans. Now I'm just the cool uncle with pastries and sweets.”

The drink was more interesting even if she wasn't one for something as sweet as lemonade but at least it was something she could compare it to because she'd had lemonade a time or two in her life.

"I'll take both. I'll take the drink right away just because I'm curious to see what it tastes like. What's the difference between Filipino lemonade and the typical one that people buy in store?"

"Great choice." Just as he started to ring her up, the door jingled behind her.

“Hoy, Val! Meron pa yung mamon box?”¹ the old man asked, peering toward the counter with hopeful eyes.

Val gave him an apologetic smile. “Pasensya na, po. Wala na.”²

The man huffed, shaking his head. “Ah, tomorrow na lang.”³ He shuffled out, muttering something about needing to camp out for it.

Val laughed softly, glancing at Sienna. “You’ve officially stolen his prize. Guess that makes you the villain in his day. But hey, he’ll survive—probably by showing up at sunrise tomorrow.”

He gestured to the calamansi juice. “This, though, will brighten your day. It’s like lemonade’s sweeter, tangier cousin. When calamansi’s ripe, you can just eat them straight off the tree. I don't know if you can do that with lemons. But when I was a kid, I’d pluck them right off the tree in our backyard and eat them like dessert. Those same calamansi are what we use for this juice. It’s nostalgic for me, but I hope you like it just as much! Let me know what you think.”

---

Arnav sipped from his drink, as he stared across at the other man wondering just what he was thinking about the situation and how he felt about it. When Val told him that his mother might have wasted his time, Arnav simply smiled before shaking his head. “Okay give me a second to just…ask you a few questions? And then if you think she’s wasted my time I’ll return the amount she paid me and we can go on our separate ways, does that work for you?”

Val sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair, clearly torn. “...Alright, let’s give this a shot, I guess. God knows I’ve tried to avoid my mom's nagging about this for years, but maybe it’s time to... I don’t know, at least look at what’s out there.” This still somehow felt wrong to do. Like he was betraying his boyfriend, but Santi did tell Val that it was okay to do 'whatever he needed in the meantime.' And there was no telling how long the 'meantime' would even be. 6 months? A year? Until Santi gave that woman a child? He didn't even want to think about it.

Val's face lit up at her words, immediately excited for a celebration. "A wedding? In December?? First off, congratulations to whoever’s tying the knot! And second, you’ve absolutely come to the right place." He stepped around the counter, pulling out a notepad and pen from his apron pocket with a flourish. "Tell me the date, and what you're looking for—are we talking full catering, just the cake, or the whole shebang? I'm more than happy to help."

❛ ☾ ◟━ TIME: late evening

❛ ☾ ◟━ STATUS: closed for @ligtas

An after work special, Gwendolyn's team did like to enjoy a night of karaoke to unwind from a long and gruelling shift. Although she wasn't a frequent attender, she decided to change it up this time and join them for once. After a few hours of singing and a bit of drinking, the Chief of Police decided to call it a night much earlier than the others as she did want to have some downtime to herself. Stepping out of the establishment, she decided to take a smoke break prior to driving home as she lit a cigarette and began scrolling through her emails on her phone. Hearing the door open, she moved a bit farther after noticing that she was too close to the entrance and flashed the oncoming patron an apologetic smile, "Sorry, I should have been mindful of where I was smoking." However, her expression faltered slightly after noticing that it was Valerio, her past predecessor. "Mr. Dizon." she immediately greeted. "Were you here to belt out your sorrows away as well?" She had a long day and at this point that she wasn't sure if she was spewing out jokes or nonsense.

Val blinked, trying to muster a smile that didn’t feel as hollow as it did. Really, it had to be Gwen who found him here. "No, no—you're fine. And yeah, something... like that," he replied, forcing a small chuckle and rubbing the back of his neck. "Just, y'know, celebrating a birthday, or... acknowledging it, at least." He paused, halfheartedly waving a hand in a gesture of dismissal, seemingly brushing over the fact it was indeed his own birthday. "Maybe 'celebrating' isn't quite the right vibe. Jeez... only a year older and I'm already forgetting words."

His laugh came out quieter than usual, lacking that lightness he usually put on. He wondered if it was obvious; he couldn’t exactly hide behind his usual charm, not today. The weight of the past few days was heavier than he cared to admit, and singing his sorrows alone in a booth felt altogether ridiculous, cathartic, and a little sad.

❛ ☾ ◟━ TIME: afternoon

❛ ☾ ◟━ STATUS: closed for @ligtas

If there's one place in Wilmington that brought comfort whenever she missed home, it was Valerio's Bakeshop. Ever since she immigrated here, Kimberly wondered if she'd find any hidden gems of her culture in a place that she's never explored or heard of. Luckily for her, the Filipino bakery became like a second home for her. The heiress was slowly trying to integrate herself back into society rather than being cooped up at home, work or the places she had to run errands to. Therefore, choosing the bakery was a good start. It wasn't too crowded, which was a plus as the last thing she wanted to do was abandon her decision and awkwardly back out. She also didn't want to worry Val or his mother, even though she had an inkling feeling that they probably were already doing so given that she hadn't been visited in weeks.

Taking a deep breath, she opened up the door and walked in as she faked an air of her usual confidence. "Tao po!" she exclaimed as she embraced the smell of pandesal and all the pinoy goodness that came with the establishment. Seeing Marigold in plain view, the heiress walked over to her as she greeted her the beso-beso way. "Kamusta po, Tita Mari!...Umm, isang dosenang na pandesal at spanish bread pleaseeeee...Salamat!" Looking over the older woman's shoulder, she then waved at her son and greeted him by saying, "Hi Kuya Val, it's been a while no?" Getting her wallet out, she then asked, "Are you working a shift or were you just checking in on her and the place?"

*Tao po: a form of greeting indicating someone's there

*beso-beso: cheek kisses

*Kamusta po, Tita Mari...Umm, isang dosenang na pandesal at spanish bread pleaseeeee...Salamat!: how are you Auntie Mari...umm, an order of a dozen pandesal and spanish bread pleaseeeee....Thank you!

Val's smile stayed warm, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes when he saw Kimmie walk through the door. It had been weeks, and he’d tried to cover up her absence to his mom, saying things like, “Baka bumalik siya sa Pinas for a while, nanay. Baka may occasion.”¹ The last thing he wanted was for his mom to stress, but in truth, he had been the one stressing.

When Kimberly had gone missing, Val’s could barely hide his worries. She had been like a sister to him before he even knew he had an actual sister. He’d pestered his old contacts at the station for any leads, stopping by under the pretense of dropping off orders of ube pandesal—a tradition that still had continued from his tenure on the force—but was really fishing for information. No one had asked him to investigate the recent kidnappings, but that hadn’t stopped the sleepless nights or the pit in his stomach that grew deeper every day he didn’t hear from her. What if she’d end up dead like the mayor? 

So now seeing her standing there, all smiles and casual confidence, Val felt an immense wave of relief crash over him. But he kept his tone lighthearted, because that’s what he was good at: covering up the worry and masking his own fears.

“Okay lang ako, ikaw?”² He leaned his hip against the counter and wiped his flour-dusted hands on his apron. “Working a shift today, of course. Someone has to keep the place running smoothly, diba?” 

His mom then butted in again. “Kumain ka na ba, Kimmie?³ I made tinola, anak. Come, sit.” She gently pushed Kimberly towards the counter and gestured for her to take a seat. “Anong gusto mo inumin? Tubig? Buko juice?”⁴

Val chuckled. “Guess you’re sticking around for lunch while you wait for the latest batch of pandesal to finish baking and cooling.” His voice softened just a bit. “It’s nice to see you again, Kimberly. How have you been?”

—

When Val mentioned "magic water," the twins gasped and turned to him, begging with their eyes. He laughed and gave in. "Okay, fine. We'll get some of everything. And yeah, magic water too."

While their order was being packed up, he felt pretty good about things. The bakery was nice, the kids were happy, and seeing people he knew—it all reminded him why coming home was the right call.

"You know," he said as he paid, "We might have to come here more often. These two seem to love it."

Zephyr pulled on his sleeve. "Can we, Dad? Please?"

Lyra nodded like crazy. "Yeah, every weekend!"

Noah chuckled, ruffling their hair. "We'll see. Maybe not every weekend, but definitely a lot." He turned his attention to Val. “See what you did?”

Val couldn’t help but chuckle as the kids’ eyes widened, brimming with excitement. “You know,” he said to Noah, grinning, “coming every weekend isn’t such a bad idea. Our weekly special changes every Sunday, and today it’s mais con yelo. It’s like corn bingsu shaved ice!” He glanced at the twins. “Why don’t you two sit over at the counter and I’ll bring some over?” He then helped each one of them into a barstool before bringing out two bowls of the mais con yelo and glasses of the magic water. “Don’t worry. These are on the house,” Val said to Noah as he passed by him. 

The surface of the magic water glistened under the shop’s warm lights as he set a glass down in front of Zephyr and Lyra. “Alright, you two, check this out,” he whispered as if he was divulging a secret. “It looks like it’s just plain water, right? But watch.” He grabbed a spoon and handed it to Zephyr and gestured to poke inside the glass while he directed Lyra to hold the cup steady. “See how it feels solid? There’s a clear jelly in there that tastes like banana taffy. Go ahead, try it!”

Val watched as the twins squealed with delight, poking and prodding at their magic water. The translucent jelly inside wobbled with every poke, eliciting a chorus of laughter that warmed the entire bakery more than the ovens did. He loved moments like this—making eating fun, memorable, and something shared with the people you loved. It was why he poured so much of himself into this place.

She lowered the bag onto the counter near the register. “Twelve, please. They’re easy to have when you’re on the go and durian is a guilty pleasure.” She glanced behind her at the owner. “So, do you still have the weekly feature? Now that I’m back home, I feel it’s only right to fit weekly visits in my schedule, and what better way to make sure I come back than a special treat.” She leaned over the counter to get a better look at the menus. 

Val only wished he could be as cheerful about discovering family connections like Reyna was. He hadn’t quite figured out how to tell her they were related—not exactly something you slip into a conversation with, ‘Here's your receipt. By the way, I'm actually your kuya. Like, for real.’ Instead, he stuck to something less complicated. “Oh, same! I haven’t been back home in years either. Sent my mom home a couple of years ago, but… she came right back an—" 

"—Ay nako,"¹ His mom interjected. "'Nice to have around,' ha! He's been here too long, anak. He needs to get married. May kakilala ka ba anyone who's single?"² 

"Nanay..."³ Val groaned. Lost in a whirlwind of thoughts—between his mom trying to set him up yet again and his half-sister being literally right in front of him—he had reached for the tray in the oven without a mitt. The sharp, blistering heat hit, and it took him a few seconds to realize he was holding a hot metal tray. "Ow, fuck...!" He dropped the tray to the floor in a clatter, losing four dozen baby pan de sals in the process. "Shit, sorry about that!! I'll clean it up..." 

"Ay susmariosep.⁴ See, anak? He can't take care of himself. This is why he needs to get married." His mom chided as she shuffled on over to grab a walis and dustpan. “Okay ang kamay mo?"⁵ She then grabbed his wrist to check his hand, sighed, and shooed him gently towards Reyna. “Ako nalang, anak. Sigi na. E-entertain mo siya.”

“Sorry you had to see that.” He mumbled, his cheeks more red than his hand. A new feeling her never felt before was coming up—God, being uncool in front of your younger sibling really sucked. “Yeah, so, uh, we’ve got palamig today. Perfect if you want to cool down. ...I should probably dunk my hand in it at this rate.”⁶

—

"Maybe you can point in the best direction. What are your most popular items?" She knew places wanted to sell out of the baked goods that were often left over so she hoped that she would at least be given something that was most sold. "I'll also take some water or whatever you have to drink. I'm parched."

“Glad to hear you got recommended our way! That’s how most folks end up regulars around here,” Val said with a nod as he placed a combo box of mamon on the counter, cutely wrapped up with a little curly red ribbon. “And I think I’ve got just the thing for you. This is our last combo box of mamon—mini chiffon cakes. They come in original butter, mocha, cheese, and ube.” He leaned in conspiratorially, gesturing out the window to a man walking down the block, clearly picking up his pace toward the bakery. “So... not to alarm you, but that guy’s one of our regulars. He usually tries to grab the last box of these if he’s lucky, but I think today’s your day if you’re up for it.”

Setting down a glass of calamansi juice beside it, Val then grinned. “And here’s a little something to wash it down. Freshly squeezed this morning from the calamansi tree in my mom’s backyard—our Filipino version of lemonade. Super refreshing, and trust me, it’s hard to go back to regular lemonade after you’ve had it.”

Val leaned on the counter, offering the man a smile. A feeling of déjà vu hit him as he saw Henry walked through the door, and as he began talking, Val wondered where he’d seen that face and heard that voice before. “I always have newcomers try the pan de sal. Classic, fluffy, and perfect on its own—or with a little butter if you’re feeling fancy. But if you’re craving sweet, maybe try some banana cue. It’s like a caramel apple, only it’s a banana… and more like a crispy, brûlée-style coating instead of a hard caramel.”