The alarm buzzed again before sunrise. I opened my eyes slowly, letting the dim morning light seep into the room. It was the same old rhythm—wake up early, wash up, boil water for coffee, fix my uniform, and check if I'd turned off everything before leaving. The electricity had been flickering on and off lately, so I made sure to unplug anything that could spark while I was gone.
Outside, the early air felt lighter than usual, touched with a cool breeze that smelled faintly of fried garlic and damp asphalt. My shoes tapped softly on the road as I made my way toward the office. Another day, same routine—but the weight never really changed.
At the corner near the building, I heard a familiar voice call out, "Noira!"
Turning, I saw Ashley waving both hands like a kid. "Girl! Finally! I've been looking for you these past days!"
I laughed, walking up to her. "You're the one who keeps changing shifts! How am I supposed to find you?"
Before she could reply, Kim appeared behind her, waving excitedly. "Look who I found!"
We all laughed, hugging each other like we hadn't been worn down by work and life. And beside them stood another girl—Luisa.
It took me a moment before I recognized her face. "Wait—Luisa?"
She grinned. "Yup! Still the same Luisa. You remember me?"
"Of course! You're Ashley's friend from… uh, what school was that again?"
Ashley jumped in, laughing. "From St. Benedict! We were classmates before I joined the company. Small world, right?"
I nodded, smiling warmly. "Yeah, really small."
Luisa opened her arms, and I didn't hesitate to hug her. "You haven't changed, Noira. Still look the same, just… maybe more tired?"
"Ha! Thanks," I said, rolling my eyes playfully. "You could've stopped at 'same.'"
We all laughed again, the kind of laughter that fills in the silence between working souls trying to stay afloat. For a few minutes, we just stood there outside the building, catching up—sharing random updates, complaining about the endless calls, the system lags, the targets that felt impossible to hit.
Before we knew it, the clock was nearing our shift. "We better go in before Elisa appears," Kim said, chuckling.
"True!" Ashley agreed. "That woman has eyes everywhere."
We waved goodbye, heading to our respective teams. The elevator ride up felt warmer somehow, my chest lighter. Sometimes, all it took was a hug from people who remembered you before the exhaustion did.
By lunch break, the usual ritual began. The pantry buzzed with noise—utensils clinking, chatter bouncing between tables, laughter erupting over random things.
As always, Mommy Emily eyed my plate. "Noira, where are your vegetables again?"
This time, I grinned and proudly held up my spoon. "Already got some!"
Zarah leaned closer to check. "Hala, totoo nga! What happened? Did you hit your head?"
Everyone burst out laughing. I pointed at the bowl of mixed stir-fried veggies. "I like whoever cooked this. It's not bitter at all!"
Emily clapped her hands. "A miracle! Someone call the church—Noira's eating vegetables voluntarily!"
"Stop exaggerating, Mommy," I said, laughing. "They just cooked it right this time."
While everyone teased me, Ken and Francis joined us, carrying their trays. They were part of the same department—our "office brothers" as some liked to call them.
"Uy, look who's here," Francis said, dropping into the seat across me. "Our veggie hater turned convert!"
Ken smirked. "Must be the power of peer pressure."
I rolled my eyes. "You two always find something to comment on."
"Because it's fun watching you squirm," Ken teased. "Next thing you know, you'll be preaching about healthy eating."
"Ha! As if," I said, pretending to flick rice at him.
The table erupted in laughter again. It felt like a small escape from the long, draining hours. For a few minutes, we weren't employees under targets or metrics. We were just people—tired, yes, but finding joy in something as simple as lunch.
Later that afternoon, when things had quieted down and half the team was still on their break, I found myself sitting with just Serenya and Iris. The room felt calmer, quieter.
Serenya leaned her head against her hand, eyes dreamy. "You know, Noira, you should go out more."
I laughed softly. "Out where? The nearest grocery store?"
"No!" she protested, smacking the table lightly. "I mean, like—go somewhere new. Do something different. You've been in this routine forever!"
Iris nodded. "She's right. You barely even join our team hangouts."
"I'm just tired," I said honestly. "After work, I just want my bed."
"Understandable," Iris replied. "But you're missing the company music fest this Thursday, right?"
"Yeah," I said, sipping my coffee. "Didn't register. Too lazy."
Serenya gasped dramatically. "What? Noira! How could you? It's Arthur Nery!"
I raised an eyebrow. "And?"
She placed a hand over her heart, pretending to faint. "And? Girl, it's Arthur Nery! He's performing live—with The Juans and Mastermind! That's like, three dreams in one night!"
I laughed at her theatrics. "You sound like you're about to marry him."
"Maybe I will," she said, flipping her hair. "You'll never know."
Iris chuckled. "Ignore her. She's been talking about that event for weeks."
Serenya suddenly leaned forward, grinning. "Come with me, Noira. Please! Don't let me fangirl alone!"
"Serenya, I'll just drag you down. I'll be sitting on the ground halfway through the concert," I said.
She pouted. "Come on! It's Thursday night. You can rest on Friday."
"Assuming I survive Thursday," I muttered under my breath.
Iris smirked. "She's not giving up, Noira. Just go with her. Maybe you'll like it."
"Maybe," I said noncommittally, though inside, a small tug of curiosity stirred.
Serenya clasped her hands dramatically. "So that's a yes?"
I sighed. "That's a maybe."
"Which means yes," she declared triumphantly.
I laughed. "You're impossible."
"That's why you love me," she said, winking.
I shook my head, smiling despite myself. The truth was, I hadn't gone out in months—not for fun, at least. My life had become a rotation of work, calls, responsibilities, and exhaustion. The thought of a music festival felt foreign, almost too loud for the quiet exhaustion that lived in me.
But part of me wondered—maybe that's exactly why I needed it.
When I got home that night, my body was aching, but my mind was strangely awake. I sat on the edge of my bed, thinking about the conversation with Serenya and Iris.
I could almost hear the crowd already—the screams, the music, the pulse of excitement. I could imagine Arthur Nery on stage, his voice melting into the night, every lyric heavy with meaning.
I smiled faintly, whispering to myself, "Maybe I do need to go."
There was something about the thought of standing in that crowd—not as a mother, not as an employee, not as someone barely holding things together—but just as me.
Noira. A woman who once loved music. Who once dreamed freely before life taught her the meaning of survival.
I turned off the light and lay back, the soft hum of the electric fan returning as the power came back on.
Outside, the city pulsed quietly—cars passing, distant chatter echoing, the night never truly still.
Thursday felt far away, but for the first time in weeks, I was looking forward to something.
Maybe a little music was what I needed—not to escape life, but to remember that I still had one.