Chapter 104 - Twenty-Three, Again #2
Immediate response.
Jane:
???
Chloe:
who
Lia:
you
Jane:
we are literally same age
Lia:
unfortunately
Chloe:
lola ka ba
I stared.
Then started laughing.
Actually laughing.
Hard enough that I had to sit down.
Lia:
yes
Jane:
confirmed
Chloe:
what happened overnight
Lia:
wisdom
Jane:
old age
Lia:
respect your elders
Jane:
you are younger than me
I stared.
Technically true.
Emotionally offensive.
Lia:
irrelevant
Chloe:
sunday. lunch?
Old reflex from lifetimes ago:
Busy.
Work.
Maybe next time.
Current reflex—
sixty-eight-year-old woman who had died again after finally learning that dinner mattered.
Lia:
yes
There was a pause.
Then—
Jane:
wow
Chloe:
WHO ARE YOU
I smiled.
Lia:
character development
Jane:
overnight?
I looked around my room.
Forty-five years overnight.
Close enough.
Lia:
aggressive development
I put the phone down.
Then opened my business files.
Tiny.
Embarrassing.
Beautiful.
The temptation came immediately.
I knew how to scale this.
Of course I did.
I knew which systems would matter.
Which mistakes would hurt.
Which equipment categories would unlock capacity.
Which financial controls to establish early.
How to hire.
How to document.
How to build redundancy.
How to structure an acquisition.
How to look at a struggling company and separate—
bad owner,
bad system,
bad economics,
good assets,
good market,
fixable,
not worth owning.
I could rebuild fast.
Very fast.
I had done it repeatedly.
And now I had even more experience.
R4 alone had taught me things I hadn't known in the resets before it.
Turnarounds.
Asset acquisitions.
Exits.
The difference between something being fixable and something being worth keeping.
I could recreate the whole thing.
Maybe.
Same commercial printing.
Same packaging operation.
Same food-packaging assets.
Same polymer company.
Same—
I stopped.
No.
Absolutely not.
I closed the spreadsheet.
That life was gone.
Those companies were not templates.
Those employees were not pieces I could place back on a board.
Nova Polymer had taught me something.
That did not mean I needed Nova Polymer again.
The fact that I knew how to fix a company did not mean I was obligated to find that exact company and repeat the rescue.
The fact that an acquisition had made money did not make it destiny.
The fact that a business had once belonged to me did not mean it belonged to me now.
I opened a fresh notebook.
New page.
For a while, I didn't write anything.
Then—
RESET 5
I stared.
Five.
Fuck.
Underneath, I wrote:
DO NOT REBUILD A MUSEUM.
I smiled a little.
Good.
Then—
KEEP THE LESSONS. NOT THE REPLICAS.
Under that:
If a business only makes sense because I remember owning it, that's not enough.
Then—
Current numbers. Current people. Current market. Current choice.
I paused.
Added:
No nostalgia acquisitions.
That one deserved an underline.
Twice.
I looked at the old business.
Current business.
Tiny printing and customization.
This one was mine now.
Not because I'd owned a future version.
Because it existed today.
Current customers.
Current orders.
Current problems.
Current opportunity.
Fine.
Start there.
I opened the pricing sheet.
Still ugly.
Still undercounting my labor.
I laughed.
"Hello again."
Some enemies were comforting.
I started fixing things.
Not copying R4.
Not recreating a dead empire.
Just applying principles.
Real costing.
Cash separation.
Capacity.
Supplier backup.
Documentation.
Clear deadlines.
Actual margin.
Hire before drowning.
Stop before midnight.
Nothing supernatural.
Just old lessons in a young room.
After an hour, I stopped.
Not because work was done.
Work was never done.
That was the point.
I looked at the time.
Four-thirty.
My brain immediately supplied six more things.
Supplier audit.
Product pruning.
Equipment review.
Cash-flow projection.
Hiring plan.
Workspace design.
I stared at the list.
Then—
"No."
I closed the laptop.
My twenty-three-year-old body was deeply confused.
Apparently it expected suffering.
Too bad.
Lola was in charge now.
I went downstairs.
Mama looked at me.
"Tapos ka na?"
"For today."
She checked the clock.
"Maaga."
"Correct."
"May lakad ka?"
"No."
"May sakit ka?"
"MA."
She laughed.
"Tanong lang."
I sat on the sofa.
Sofia looked over.
"Who are you?"
"Retired."
"At twenty-three?"
"Emotionally."
She stared.
I smiled.
She shook her head and went back to her phone.
Children.
All of them.
Then Papa came home.
Gate.
Footsteps.
Same rhythm.
I stood before he even entered.
When he did, I froze.
Young.
Tired from work.
Alive.
I walked over.
"Pa."
I took his hand.
Mano.
"God bless."
He looked at me.
Then patted my shoulder.
"O."
Simple.
My eyes burned.
Papa noticed.
"Bakit?"
"Nothing."
"May problema?"
"No."
I smiled.
"You're just young."
He stared.
From the table, Sofia—
"She's doing it again."
Papa looked at Mama.
Mama:
"Ewan ko diyan."
I laughed.
God.
I had missed this.
Even after having it again.
Even after learning to appreciate it.
Reset grief was stupid like that.
You could know the lesson.
You could live the lesson.
You could still lose the life where you had practiced it.
Dinner was normal.
Which meant everyone talked over everyone else.
Kuya Nathan's food.
Ate Bianca's jewelry.
Sofia's school.
Papa's work.
Mama's complaints.
Ate Vivian correcting Kuya Nathan about something.
I listened.
Really listened.
Not strategically.
Not while checking my phone under the table.
Not while mentally calculating tomorrow's production.
Just—
family.
At one point, Mama asked—
"Ba't tahimik ka?"
I looked around.
"Listening."
Sofia:
"Suspicious."
I pointed at her.
"Respect your elders."
She stared.
"Ate."
"Yes?"
"Two years."
"Small child."
"You're five-two."
Silence.
Kuya Nathan laughed first.
Then everyone.
I stared at Sofia.
"Height is not maturity."
"Sure."
Ate Bianca:
"Twenty-one na yan."
"Baby."
Sofia:
"Twenty-three ka!"
I leaned back.
"Spiritually, no."
Papa:
"Anong spiritually?"
"Nothing."
Mama:
"May problema talaga 'to."
Maybe.
But I was laughing.
That counted.
Later upstairs, Jane messaged privately.
Jane:
chloe says lunch sunday
Lia:
yes
Jane:
sure?
Lia:
yes
Jane:
no cancellation because business?
I stopped.
There it was.
Old reputation.
Earned.
Fair.
Lia:
no
Three dots.
Jane:
wow
Lia:
stop being impressed
Jane:
you disappeared for almost a year before
That hit.
Not current-life news.
Existing history before reset.
R4 inherited that too.
One year buried in work.
Then crawling back out.
Starting to say yes.
Again.
I stared at the message.
Lia:
i know
Then—
Lia:
trying not to do that again
Jane replied after a few seconds.
Jane:
good
I smiled despite myself.
Of course.
Lia:
you all keep saying good
Jane:
because good
Lia:
terrible vocabulary
Jane:
teacher ako. respect
I laughed.
Then—
Lia:
you look twelve btw
Pause.
Jane:
WHAT
Lia:
child
Jane:
mas matanda ako sayo
Lia:
chronologically questionable
Jane:
ano daw
Lia:
nothing
Jane:
lola
I stared at the word.
Then smiled.
Lia:
correct
She reacted with—
Jane:
weird
Then—
Jane:
see you sunday, lola
I put the phone down.
That hurt too.
In a good way.
Jane at sixty-eight.
Jane at twenty-three.
Both real.
Neither owed me continuity.
Current Jane hadn't sat beside my sickbed.
Hadn't lived those decades.
Hadn't told me she was glad I kept saying yes to dinner.
That belonged to another Jane.
Another life.
I could treasure it.
I could not make this Jane carry it.
Same with Chloe.
Same with everyone.
I carried the history.
They did not carry the obligation.
I knew the rule.
Still—
Sunday.
I was going.
Not because sixty-eight-year-old Jane had asked me to keep saying yes.
Not exactly.
Because twenty-three-year-old Jane and twenty-three-year-old Chloe had asked me to lunch.
Current invitation.
Current answer.
Yes.
Before bed, I reopened the notebook.
Under RESET 5, I added another line.
Comfort is allowed before I earn it.
I stared.
Interesting.
Then—
Hire earlier.
Rest earlier.
Good chair earlier.
I underlined that one.
Cancer had nothing to do with chairs.
Still.
Sixty-eight-year-old me had opinions.
Better mattress.
Driver when it becomes rational.
Healthcare before something hurts.
Travel without turning it into market research.
I paused.
Then—
Do not make suffering a business strategy.
There.
That one.
I looked at the list.
R1 had been—
do it smarter.
R2 had taught me that a good life still ended.
R3 had taught me I couldn't earn someone's choice.
R4 had taught me that fixable did not mean worth owning.
Maybe this one—
I wasn't sure yet.
Too early.
I was twenty-three.
Again.
Apparently the universe still had jokes.
I closed the notebook.
Then looked at the printer.
It beeped.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Don't."
Another beep.
"You are younger than me."
The printer made a noise.
I pointed.
"Spiritually."
Nothing.
Finally—
respect.
I switched off the light.
The businesses I had lost stayed lost.
The people I had known stayed real.
The lessons stayed mine.
Tomorrow, I would rebuild.
But not the same companies.
Not the same life.
Not a replica arranged from memory because I was afraid to lose anything twice.
Something current.
Something mine.
Something that could surprise me.
I got into bed.
Twenty-three-year-old body.
Sixty-eight-year-old brain.
Sunday lunch with two children who were technically my age.
I smiled into the dark.
"Fucking ridiculous."
Then I slept.