Chapter 29 - Forty-Five, Again
I turned forty-five on a Tuesday.
Which felt rude.
Forty-five deserved at least a Friday.
I woke up at seven.
No alarm.
No panic.
No printer beside my bed.
No laptop open from the night before.
Just morning.
I lay there for a while.
Forty-five.
Again.
Same age.
Completely different life.
My phone already had messages.
Family group chat.
Ate Bianca:
happy birthday old woman
Kuya Nathan:
senior citizen discount when
Ate Vivian:
ignore your kuya. happy birthday lia
Sofia:
cash gift ko sayo thoughts and prayers
Mama had sent nothing.
Because Mama was downstairs.
Of course.
When I walked into the kitchen, she looked at me.
"Happy birthday."
"Thank you, Ma."
Then she pointed at the table.
"Eat."
There.
Love language.
Papa was drinking coffee.
"Happy birthday."
"Thanks, Pa."
He held out an envelope.
I stared.
"Pa."
"What?"
"I have money."
"So?"
Fair.
I took it.
"Thank you."
Forty-five years old.
Multiple businesses.
Properties.
Investments.
Still receiving birthday cash from Papa.
Perfect.
I didn't go to work.
That was deliberate.
Not because I was afraid the office would kill me.
Mostly.
I had no reason to believe age forty-five itself was cursed.
My first death had been overwork.
Years of neglect.
Stress.
A body I'd treated like rented equipment.
This body was different.
This life was different.
Still—
memory wasn't always logical.
So I took the day off.
Because I could.
Abigail had messaged too.
Happy birthday, Ma'am. Do not come here.
I replied—
i wasn't planning to
She reacted with:
??
Suspiciously fast.
I sent—
did you change the locks
considered it
Disrespectful.
Excellent employee.
By lunch, Ate Bianca arrived.
Then Sofia.
Then Kuya Nathan and Ate Vivian.
No one had been invited for lunch.
Apparently birthdays overrode invitations.
Ate Bianca brought cake.
Not the evening cake.
A lunch cake.
Because apparently one cake was operationally insufficient.
Kuya Nathan brought food.
Ate Vivian brought something Mama had requested.
Sofia brought—
nothing.
I stared at her.
She smiled.
"Presence."
"Cheap."
"Priceless."
Unfortunately good answer.
Ate Bianca looked at me while we ate.
"Forty-five."
"Yes."
"Does it feel old?"
"No."
Kuya Nathan:
"Wait until tomorrow."
"That's not how aging works."
Papa nodded toward him.
"Hayaan mo. Hindi magaling sa Science."
I laughed.
Kuya Nathan looked offended.
"Pa?"
My Science Education degree had finally produced a family weapon.
Excellent return on tuition.
Nobody knew what forty-five meant to me.
Not really.
They knew I had changed in my twenties.
They knew I became better at leaving work.
Better at showing up.
Better at being—
here.
But they didn't know I had already been forty-five once.
That I had died at this age.
That somewhere in my memory existed another version of today where these people had spent years learning not to expect me.
I looked around the table.
Mama arguing with Ate Bianca about food.
Papa laughing.
Kuya Nathan stealing something from Sofia's plate.
Ate Vivian telling him to stop.
Sofia threatening violence.
Noise.
Good.
Jane and Chloe arrived for dinner.
Camille came too.
At this point, Camille was no longer guest enough for anyone to behave politely.
Tita Navarro had sent food.
Mama complained that we already had too much.
Then immediately opened it.
Classic.
Jane handed me a chocolate cake.
I stared.
"Still?"
"You said same."
"I did."
Chloe handed me an envelope.
I looked inside.
Cash.
I laughed.
"You remembered?"
"You said always."
"Excellent."
Camille held up a container.
"I made something."
Before Jane could speak—
I pointed at her.
"No."
Jane looked innocent.
"What?"
"Do not sell your girlfriend to me on my birthday."
Everyone near enough to hear started laughing.
Camille smiled.
"Premium birthday package."
"Return to sender."
Jane:
"I wasn't going to say anything!"
Chloe:
"Excellent nose."
"CHLOE."
Forty-five.
Nothing had improved.
Perfect.
Celeste didn't come.
Different schedules.
Different lives.
She sent a voice message instead.
I opened it later.
"Happy birthday, old woman. Forty-five ka na. Grabe. Anyway, thank you for stopping me from renting that stupid first center too early. I hate admitting you were right. Also, I'm still pretty. Bye."
I laughed.
Then a photo arrived.
Of course.
Celeste.
Very pretty.
Still polished.
Still excellent nose.
Still very nice legs.
Caption:
birthday gift
I replied—
are you flirting at 45
maybe
this compliance issue has lasted 21 years
consistent
Classic.
Dinner lasted too long.
Exactly right.
People came and went.
Someone opened another bottle of soda.
Papa disappeared to sit somewhere quieter for ten minutes.
Mama packed food for people who had brought food.
Ate Bianca complained she was full and continued eating.
Kuya Nathan wanted more cake.
Ate Vivian told him he had already eaten two slices.
Sofia took ugly photos of everyone.
Jane and Chloe argued about something completely irrelevant.
Camille sided with Chloe.
Jane accused her own girlfriend of betrayal.
I sat there.
Forty-five.
Alive.
At nine, people started leaving.
Ate Bianca first.
Then Kuya Nathan and Ate Vivian.
Sofia stayed longer because she was Sofia.
Jane, Chloe, and Camille were among the last.
At the gate, Jane hugged me.
"Happy birthday."
"Thanks."
Then she pulled away.
"Masaya?"
The same question.
Years later.
I smiled.
"Yeah."
She smiled back.
"Good."
No deeper meaning.
No dramatic callback required.
Just—
good.
By eleven, the house was quiet.
Mama and Papa asleep.
Sofia gone home.
I was alone in the living room.
Birthday mess still partially visible.
One unopened bottle.
Plates drying.
Cake in the refrigerator.
Cash envelopes on the table.
Ordinary aftermath.
I checked the time.
11:14 PM.
And suddenly—
I remembered.
Not the birthday.
The office.
Original Life.
Cold air-conditioning.
Laptop light.
Documents.
A body exhausted enough that exhaustion had become normal.
The clock after midnight.
Pain.
Then nothing.
Then twenty-three.
Again.
I knew the exact date I'd died.
Of course I did.
Some dates became permanent whether you wanted them or not.
It wasn't tonight.
Not exactly.
A few months from now.
Still—
forty-five had arrived.
My body knew before logic could correct it.
I sat there quietly.
Heart fine.
Breathing fine.
No pain.
No exhaustion.
Just memory.
My phone buzzed.
Jane.
still awake?
I smiled.
yes
why
I considered saying—
Because the last time I was forty-five, I died.
Reasonable conversation starter.
Instead—
birthday sugar
She replied:
old people shouldn't have too much
blocked
Then:
goodnight lia
goodnight
Simple.
I went upstairs.
Washed my face.
Did skincare.
Because apparently decades of harassment had worked.
Got into bed.
No laptop.
No work.
No unfinished quotation sitting beside me.
At 11:52—
I checked the time.
Again at 11:58.
Ridiculous.
Midnight came.
Nothing happened.
Obviously.
I laughed quietly at myself.
"Congratulations."
Forty-five years old.
Talking to the ceiling.
Still alive.
Months passed.
I stayed forty-five.
Also rude.
And eventually—
the actual date came.
The anniversary of the night Original Lia had died.
I remembered it that morning.
Then spent most of the day pretending I hadn't.
Work was normal.
One strategy meeting.
One contract review.
Lunch.
A call with finance.
At four-thirty, Abigail appeared at my door.
"You're done."
I looked up.
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"Because your calendar says so."
Fair.
I packed.
She didn't know why I was more willing than usual to leave.
Didn't need to.
I went to Mama and Papa's house.
No special occasion.
Mama was surprised.
"Why are you here?"
"Can't visit?"
"You can."
Papa was outside.
Sofia came later after I told her where I was.
Then Ate Bianca somehow found out.
Then Kuya Nathan and Ate Vivian.
Apparently Ramos family information traveled faster than commercial internet.
By seven—
we had accidentally formed dinner.
Again.
Nobody knew.
That was almost funny.
At 8:30, Kuya Nathan was arguing about basketball.
At nine, Ate Bianca was showing Mama something on her phone.
At 9:40, Sofia was stealing food.
At ten, Papa told everyone to lower their voices.
At ten-thirty, Ate Vivian started packing leftovers.
And sometime during all of that—
I looked at the clock.
The hour was getting close.
The old hour.
No office.
No fluorescent lights.
No paperwork.
No chest pain.
Just home.
I sat beside Mama.
She handed me fruit without asking.
I ate it.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Then—
the time crossed.
The exact minute.
Original Lia had been dead by now.
Current Lia was chewing pineapple.
I almost laughed.
Mama looked at me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Masarap?"
"Yes."
There.
That was it.
No cosmic sound.
No message.
No congratulations.
The universe did not care that I had crossed the line where another version of me had ended.
But I did.
Later, after everyone went home, I stood outside for a while.
Forty-five.
Still alive.
Still single.
Still fine.
Actually—
more than fine.
I thought about the joke I'd made to Jane years ago.
Next life na lang.
Maybe.
There was no rush.
I wasn't waiting to become happy.
I already was.
If someone came—
good.
If nobody did—
also good.
Maybe next life.
I laughed.
"Bahala ka."
I wasn't sure who I was talking to.
The universe, probably.
Dangerous.
I lived through forty-five.
Then forty-six.
Forty-seven.
Forty-eight.
No reset.
No collapse.
No punishment for leaving work early.
No business failure because I chose dinner.
Nothing magical happened.
That was the best part.
I had once thought my second chance was about avoiding one death.
It wasn't.
It was about avoiding the life that had led to it.
And this time—
I had.