Chapter 106 - Layla
I met Layla because Chloe refused to attend a birthday dinner alone.
That was it.
No acquisition.
No supplier problem.
No company rescue.
No woman walking into my office with a dying business and excellent financial statements hidden under terrible management.
Just—
Chloe:
free saturday?
I stared at the message.
Lia:
depends
Chloe:
birthday dinner
Lia:
whose
Chloe:
friend
Lia:
your friend
Chloe:
yes
Lia:
then why am i invited
Three dots.
Chloe:
because she said bring friends
Lia:
jane?
Chloe:
busy
Then—
Chloe:
come with me
I looked at my calendar.
Saturday.
Nothing urgent.
Ops had production.
Admin had customer messages.
Accountant did not require my physical presence to continue being an accountant.
The building would not collapse if I left it.
Very unfortunate for my excuses.
Lia:
okay
Immediate reply.
Chloe:
wow
I closed my eyes.
Lia:
don't
Chloe:
growth
Lia:
i hate you
Saturday came.
I drove.
Not because I was proving independence.
Because the restaurant was close enough that arranging a driver would've been stupid.
Comfort was infrastructure.
Not performance art.
There were limits.
Chloe was already outside when I arrived.
She looked at me.
Then at the time.
Then back at me.
"You're early."
"I'm four minutes early."
"For you, that's early."
"I have changed."
"Growth."
"Get in."
She laughed and opened the passenger door.
The birthday dinner was in a small restaurant in Bulacan.
Not expensive.
Not cheap.
The kind of place with warm lights, wooden tables, too many plants, and a menu that called ordinary fries—
house-cut potatoes.
I stared.
Chloe noticed.
"No."
"What?"
"Don't review the business."
"I haven't said anything."
"Your face."
"My face is neutral."
"Your face is calculating rent per square meter."
I looked at the ceiling.
"Maybe."
"Lia."
"Fine."
We went in.
Birthday celebrant was one of Chloe's friends.
I knew her vaguely.
Maybe we'd met once.
Maybe twice.
Enough that she greeted me without asking who I was.
"Uy, Lia! You came."
"Apparently."
Chloe:
"She says yes now."
I stared at her.
The celebrant laughed.
"Character development?"
"Please don't encourage her."
Too late.
Apparently the phrase had spread.
There were maybe ten people.
Small enough to actually talk.
Large enough that no one needed to carry the entire table.
Perfect.
I recognized two faces.
Didn't know the rest.
Which was nice.
Sometimes being around people who didn't know my entire academic, romantic, or business history felt medicinal.
No one had Grade 9 evidence.
No one had seen me cry near stairs.
No one knew about Jane's ratings.
No one had access to the alveoli.
Peace.
I sat beside Chloe.
Across from us, one empty chair.
I barely noticed.
Then someone arrived late.
Not dramatically late.
Seven minutes.
Normal-person late.
She walked toward the table carrying a small paper bag.
"Sorry. Parking."
The celebrant looked over.
"Finally."
"Seven minutes."
"You said six-thirty."
"It's six-thirty-seven."
"Exactly."
The woman put the bag near the gifts.
Then looked around for a seat.
The empty chair across from me.
Of course.
She sat.
"Hi."
Everyone did the normal introductions.
Names moved around the table.
I caught most of them.
Then—
"Layla."
I looked up.
She looked at me.
Warm face.
Calm eyes.
Simple blouse.
Hair tied loosely.
Nothing aggressively polished.
No dramatic entrance.
No—
Oh.
No universe shifting.
No hidden music.
Just—
Layla.
"Lia."
She nodded.
"Nice to meet you."
"You too."
Then someone asked for the menu.
And life continued.
Excellent.
The first twenty minutes weren't about Layla.
Which I liked.
Food arrived.
People talked.
Birthday stories.
Someone complained about work.
Someone else had apparently resigned after their supervisor messaged at two in the morning asking for a file that wasn't due until Friday.
I immediately said—
"Good."
Everyone looked at me.
I paused.
"What?"
The person who resigned laughed.
"Thank you."
Chloe:
"Lia approves resignations now."
"I approve boundaries."
Layla looked at me.
"Same."
I glanced at her.
She continued eating.
No performance.
No attempt to turn agreement into connection.
Just—
same.
Fine.
Eventually the table split into smaller conversations.
It always happened.
People on one end discussed travel.
Other end discussed someone getting married.
Chloe got pulled into a story involving a cousin and apparently forgot I existed.
Typical.
I was drinking water when Layla asked—
"You're Chloe's high school friend?"
"Yeah."
"Long time."
"Unfortunately."
Chloe heard from three seats away.
"Fuck you."
I smiled.
Layla laughed.
Not loud.
Just enough.
"How long?"
"Since Grade Eight for Chloe."
Chloe:
"Correct."
"Jane since Grade Seven."
Layla looked around.
"Jane isn't here?"
"Busy."
Chloe:
"Teacher."
Layla nodded.
Then looked at me.
"And you?"
"What about me?"
"Teacher too?"
I stared.
Of course.
Science Education degree.
Immortal enemy.
"No."
"Ah."
No visible surprise.
No—
Sayang.
No—
Why?
She just waited.
So I added—
"Business."
"Okay."
That was it.
I blinked.
She took a drink.
I waited.
Nothing.
Interesting.
Usually people followed with—
What business?
How big?
How long?
Online?
How much?
How many employees?
Layla just ate another piece of chicken.
I finally asked—
"You're not curious?"
She looked at me.
"About?"
"The business."
She shrugged.
"If you want to tell me."
I stared.
Then laughed.
"That's new."
"What?"
"Usually people ask."
"Okay."
She put down her fork.
"What business?"
I laughed again.
"No, now it sounds forced."
"Your fault."
"Fair."
She smiled slightly.
"So what business?"
"Started with printing and customization."
"Started?"
"Yeah."
"Now?"
"Still printing. Packaging. Some related operations."
I deliberately stopped there.
No holdings.
No valuation.
No history.
Current reality was still much smaller than R4 anyway.
Layla nodded.
"Do you like it?"
I paused.
Not—
Is it doing well?
Not—
How much do you make?
Do you like it?
"Yeah."
She waited.
I thought about it.
"Most of it."
"What's the part you don't like?"
"Customer messages that start with 'simple lang po' and then describe structural engineering."
Layla laughed.
"Fair."
"Suppliers who say 'on the way' while the item is spiritually still in China."
She laughed harder.
"Also fair."
"Machines."
"What about them?"
"They develop personalities."
"Maybe they don't like you."
I stared.
"You sound like my printer."
"Maybe your printer has valid concerns."
"No."
Easy.
That was the first word that came to mind.
Not exciting.
Not electric.
Not intense.
Easy.
Conversation didn't feel like moving furniture uphill.
She asked something.
I answered.
I asked something.
She answered.
No hidden performance.
No one trying to impress the other.
Eventually I asked—
"What do you do?"
"Project coordination."
"For?"
She named a company I vaguely knew.
Not one of mine.
Not one I'd ever acquired.
Thank God.
"What kind of projects?"
"Mostly internal. Some events. Some client-facing."
"You like it?"
"Most days."
I smiled.
"Same answer."
"Good answer."
"What don't you like?"
"Meetings that could've been emails."
"Universal."
"And people who schedule meetings without an agenda."
"Criminal."
"Exactly."
There.
Another agreement.
No fireworks.
Just—
comfortable.
At some point the celebrant asked everyone how they knew her.
Stories went around.
College.
Work.
Cousin.
Neighbor.
Old roommate.
When it reached Layla—
"College friend."
The celebrant immediately said—
"She used to save my life during group projects."
Layla:
"That's dramatic."
"You did."
"I made the tracker."
"You made the tracker, the timeline, and the backup plan."
I looked at Layla.
She caught me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're judging."
"I'm appreciating structure."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Businesswoman."
"Unfortunately."
The celebrant laughed.
"Don't let her fool you. Layla acts chill but everything is organized."
Layla:
"I like knowing where things are."
I nodded.
"Correct."
She looked at me.
"That's not a personality."
"It can be."
Someone asked if Layla was seeing anyone.
She groaned.
"Why is this happening at dinner?"
Birthday celebrant:
"Because I need updates."
"No."
"That's not an update."
"It's the update."
Someone else laughed.
"No boyfriend?"
"No."
"Girlfriend?"
Layla paused.
Then—
"Also no."
No weirdness.
No table reaction.
Just information.
I noticed.
Filed it.
Did nothing.
Current information.
Required response:
none.
Very advanced.
I continued eating.
Chloe's eyes flicked toward me.
I saw it.
I gave her a look.
She looked away.
Good woman.
Survival instinct.
Later, conversation moved to houses.
Rent.
Commute.
Traffic.
Apparently everyone in adulthood eventually became passionate about travel time.
Layla mentioned she lived close to work.
I said—
"Smart."
"I moved because I got tired of losing two hours a day."
I stared.
"Exactly."
She looked at me.
"What?"
"Nothing. I just recently started treating travel time like actual life."
"It is."
"Apparently."
"You sound surprised."
"I was stupid for a long time."
Chloe, from beside me—
"True."
I kicked her lightly under the table.
"Hostile witness."
Layla laughed.
Then asked—
"You used to commute far?"
"Drive mostly."
"Still time."
"Yeah."
"I'd rather pay more rent than donate ten hours a week to traffic."
I looked at her.
There.
That.
Not business genius.
Not optimization theater.
Just a normal person who already understood something I'd needed several deaths to learn.
Time was life.
I smiled a little.
"That's a good rule."
"It's not a rule. I just hate traffic."
Even better.
Dinner lasted longer than planned.