Chapter 23 - A Year, Properly Lived
By twenty-five, the business had stopped feeling new.
That was probably the biggest change.
Not small.
Not fragile.
Not one bad week away from panic.
Just—
real.
Stable.
Growing.
And, somehow, no longer sitting on my chest every waking hour.
Abigail officially moved into operations.
Not "assistant manager."
She hated that title.
So did I.
Operations Coordinator worked better.
Clearer scope.
Higher pay.
More authority.
She handled daily scheduling, first-pass quotations, routine client coordination, and production flow.
Anything outside policy—
she escalated.
Anything inside policy—
she handled.
The first week after the role change, she still asked me—
"Sure po?"
Too often.
By the third week—
less.
By the second month—
sometimes I found out about small issues after they were already solved.
At first, that bothered me.
Then I realized—
that was the point.
Bea became frighteningly good at production.
She could hear the printer making a slightly different sound and know something was wrong.
Which was both useful and vaguely supernatural.
Claire got fast.
Really fast.
Packing, inventory, order verification.
Still careful.
Ella settled into mornings and somehow became the person most likely to notice when stock was about to run low before the spreadsheet did.
Useful people.
Different people.
Not replacements for anyone I'd lost.
That distinction stopped hurting as sharply over time.
Not because I forgot.
Because I stopped trying to compare.
Evelyn's three-branch trial became permanent.
Then four branches.
Then five.
Not overnight.
Not because I said yes to everything.
Because their business grew too.
Our systems grew with it.
Forecasts became normal.
Rush requests became less stupid.
Branch managers learned that—
urgent
—did not automatically mean—
Lia will suffer for us.
Excellent cultural improvement.
Isabella remained our most reliable supplier.
She also became increasingly comfortable calling me out.
One afternoon, she looked at the stock forecast and said—
"Too much."
I frowned.
"Buffer."
"Too much buffer."
"Lead time increased."
"Not that much."
I stared.
She stared back.
Abigail quietly moved away from us.
Coward.
I recalculated.
Isabella was right.
I hated that.
"Fine."
She smiled.
"Twenty-five ka na?"
"Yes."
"Parang fifty."
"Thank you."
"Hindi compliment."
"Still taking it."
Some traditions survived.
The business got bigger.
Not dramatically.
Steadily.
More recurring clients.
More event work.
More school accounts.
More packaging.
More repeat orders.
Enough that we added another printer.
Then better finishing equipment.
Then one more shelf.
Then another.
At some point, I stopped personally approving every purchase under a certain amount.
Abigail handled routine replenishment.
I approved larger capital expenses.
It felt—
normal.
Like something I should have learned much earlier.
We also gained Julia.
Not all at once.
She started with one school event.
Certificates.
Programs.
Name cards.
Then another event.
Then graduation materials.
Then faculty recognition.
Then recurring printing.
Julia was organized.
Bless her.
Clear files.
Clear quantities.
Clear deadlines.
No—
FINAL_FINAL_USETHIS
I almost loved her professionally.
Almost.
At home, Sofia finished another semester.
Then another.
Her business instincts got sharper.
Not because of me.
Good.
She started testing beauty products with more seriousness.
Small volume.
Small capital.
No dramatic launch.
She asked questions sometimes.
I answered some.
Refused some.
Made her answer some herself.
She hated that.
Which meant it was working.
Ate Bianca expanded her jewelry business slowly.
Better packaging.
Better inventory.
Better product photos.
More consistent stock tracking.
Still very Ate Bianca.
Still occasionally buying something because—
"Ang ganda kasi."
Then asking me later if it made sense.
Usually after purchase.
Classic.
Kuya Nathan and Ate Vivian fixed their bundle pricing.
Then tested new products.
Then opened another regular sales channel.
Their food business became more predictable.
Not easy.
Predictable.
Which was better.
Kuya Nathan still hated costing.
Ate Vivian still caught more mistakes.
Balance.
Celeste went from eleven students—
to fifteen.
Then nineteen.
Then enough that I finally stopped saying—
don't rent yet.
She messaged me one afternoon.
22
I stared.
students?
yes
Then—
grace has 7
Good.
and saturday is full
Very good.
Then—
can i rent now
I laughed.
maybe
Three dots.
MAYBE????
send numbers
lia
send numbers
She did.
Revenue.
Sessions.
Grace's share.
Materials.
Current locations.
Travel time.
Parent inquiries.
Waiting list.
Better than I expected.
I checked twice.
Then—
okay
Pause.
okay what
you can rent
There was no reply for almost a minute.
Then—
SCREENSHOT
I stared.
what
say it again
no
LIA
I laughed.
Celeste rented a small space two months later.
Nothing fancy.
Two rooms.
Reception table.
Whiteboard.
Plastic chairs.
Good lighting.
Close enough to schools.
Reasonable rent.
Grace became regular part-time.
Celeste kept teaching too.
But not everything.
Progress.
When she sent me the photo of the first signboard, I replied—
finally earned the sign
She answered—
bwisit
Then another message.
also
Photo.
Celeste in front of the sign.
Very pretty.
Very polished.
Excellent nose.
Very nice legs.
I stared.
business documentation?
yes
Then—
not flirting
Pause.
probably
I closed the chat.
Some systems remained unreliable.
Jane and Chloe were still there.
Not every week.
Not every Sunday.
Life happened.
Work.
Family.
Other friends.
Sometimes months were busy.
Sometimes we saw each other twice in one week.
Sometimes not for three.
That was fine.
Normal, actually.
The difference was—
I did not disappear.
Neither did they.
We had coffee.
Cheap meals.
Mall walks.
One more beach trip.
A birthday.
A random late dinner.
One night at Navarro house where Tita Navarro fed all three of us until Chloe said she was going to explode.
Another afternoon where Jane inspected my face and said—
"Dry."
I stared.
"Excuse me?"
"Your skin."
"I know what you meant."
"Moisturizer."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Then she smiled.
"Growth."
I almost left.
The type joke also refused to die.
Unfortunately.
One Saturday, we were walking when I glanced at someone.
Just once.
Jane—
"Pretty?"
I ignored her.
Chloe—
"Polished?"
I kept walking.
Jane—
"Excellent nose?"
I increased speed.
Chloe—
"Very nice legs?"
I turned.
"Both of you need hobbies."
Jane smiled.
"We have one."
Apparently I was the hobby.
Wonderful.
I dated no one.
Not because I was sad.
Not because I was waiting for Jane.
Not because Celeste's occasional—
unless?
—had destabilized me.
I just—
didn't.
There were women I noticed.
Women I liked talking to.
Women who flirted.
One woman asked for my number at a café.
I gave it.
We talked for a week.
Nothing happened.
Another woman messaged after a business event.
Pretty.
Smart.
Nice.
Still nothing.
And for once, I didn't treat that as a failure.
No chemistry was not a problem to solve.
On my twenty-fifth birthday, I worked until three.
Not because I had to.
Because I wanted to finish one thing.
Then I stopped.
Went home.
Mama cooked.
Papa came home early.
Ate Bianca arrived with cake.
Kuya Nathan and Ate Vivian brought food.
Sofia gave me perfume.
Jane and Chloe came later.
Celeste sent—
happy birthday old woman
I replied—
you're older than me emotionally
She reacted with a middle finger emoji.
Normal.
At dinner, Papa looked around.
"Dami natin."
Mama smiled.
"Syempre."
I looked around too.
Mama.
Papa.
Ate Bianca.
Kuya Nathan.
Ate Vivian.
Sofia.
Jane.
Chloe.
Food everywhere.
Noise.
Someone laughing.
Someone complaining about drinks.
Nothing important.
Everything important.
Later, after everyone left, I opened the notebook where I'd written my first Reset 1 rules.
Old pages.
Old panic.
Old handwriting.
WHAT NOT TO FUCK UP
I laughed.
Then flipped forward.
More rules.
More notes.
Business.
People.
Time.
Boundaries.
I added one more.
RULE 31: A YEAR DOES NOT NEED TO BE MEMORABLE TO BE WORTH REMEMBERING.
Then underneath—
I REMEMBERED THIS ONE.
And that was true.
I remembered the year.
Not every day.
Not every meal.
Not every conversation.
But enough.
Ate Bianca's packaging test.
Kuya Nathan and Ate Vivian fixing their bundle.
Sofia's projects.
Papa's Sundays.
Mama's grocery lists.
Abigail's promotion.
Bea hearing printer problems before anyone else.
Claire laughing at something stupid.
Ella learning the workflow.
Evelyn's forecasts.
Isabella insulting my age.
Julia's terrifyingly organized files.
Celeste getting her signboard.
Jane weaponizing my type.
Chloe recognizing every pattern before anyone else.
Beach.
Coffee.
Food.
Home.
Work.
Life.
One year.
Properly lived.
For someone who had once lost entire years to being busy—
that felt enormous.