Saturday mornings were usually the only time she could stay in bed without feeling like she was already late for something. She had been awake for almost twenty minutes, but she hadn't moved. Her phone rested above her face as she scrolled through one video after another.
A recipe she would probably never make. A girl showing her apartment in Tokyo. A dog wearing tiny shoes. Someonet explaining five signs that she was wasting her twenties.
She immediately scrolled past that one.
Her bedroom door opened.
"Ate."
She lowered her phone and looked toward her mother. "Ano 'yon ma?" What it is mom?
"Nasira na naman 'yung washing machine." The washing machine broke again.
The washing machine had been making strange noises for months, so this wasn't exactly surprising.
"Hindi na gumagana?" It's not working anymore?
"Gumagana pa, pero kailangan na talaga ipaayos. Tatawag ako mamaya. Baka ikaw muna magbayad." It still works, but we really need to have it repaired. I'll call someone later. Maybe you can pay for it first.
Normally, she would have said yes before asking anything else. It was such an automatic response that sometimes the word left her mouth before she had even considered whether she could afford what was being asked of her.
This time, she hesitated.
"Hindi muna, Ma." Not right now, Ma.
Her mother looked at her. "Bakit?" Why?
"Wala ka nang pera?" You don't have any money left?
The question irritated her more than it should have.
She had money. That wasn't the point.
For a second, she almost said no just to end the conversation. It would have been easier than explaining that having money didn't mean she had money to give.
"May mga babayaran din ako," she said instead. I have some bills to pay too.
Her mother nodded, but the question stayed with her even after she left.
Why did she have to be broke before saying no was allowed?
She watched her mother leave and close the door behind her. There had been no argument or raised voices, yet she still felt guilty.
Maybe she should have just said yes. The washing machine was something everyone used, after all. It wasn't like her mother was asking for something unnecessary.
She picked up her phone and opened her banking app. Technically, she could afford the repair, but that didn't mean the money was available to spend. Her next salary would cover her credit card payment and the other bills she had already planned for. What bothered her was how little always seemed to remain once everything else had been taken care of.
Still, her first instinct was to reconsider.
She could already imagine herself walking into the kitchen later and asking her mother how much the repair would cost.
Instead, she locked her phone and placed it beside her.
Someone else could take care of it this time.
Saying no didn't feel as good as she thought it would.
By noon, she wanted to get out of the house.
She showered, changed, and left without much of a plan. There was one place she had been thinking about since hearing her coworkers talk about it earlier that week—a restaurant near the business district that she had looked up afterward out of curiosity.
"It's actually good," one of them had said.
"And it's not that expensive."
Not that expensive.
Curious, she had searched for the restaurant on that day.
Around three thousand pesos for a set meal.
She remembered staring at her phone for a few seconds before closing the page.
Now she was standing outside that same restaurant.
Through the glass, she could see neatly arranged tables and people already having lunch. Nothing about the place looked intimidating enough to justify how long she had been standing outside pretending to read the menu.
Her eyes returned to the price.
Set Menu — ₱3,299
She stared at it.
Three thousand pesos could buy groceries, cover several days of transportation, or simply stay in her account for the next unexpected expense at home. It was also almost the same amount she had given her sibling for work requirements without thinking about it for very long.
Her sibling needed it, so she gave it.
But spending the same amount on one meal for herself suddenly felt irresponsible.
It wasn't that she couldn't afford it. Her bills were accounted for, and her next salary would cover the payments she already had coming up. She knew exactly how much she could spend without putting herself in trouble.
The problem was that there was always something more practical she could do with the money.
She could easily eat somewhere else. There were plenty of restaurants nearby where three thousand pesos could pay for several meals instead of one.
She stepped away from the entrance and started walking.
After a few steps, she slowed down.
It bothered her that she had spent more than that on other people before without needing to convince herself this much. Sometimes she would only check whether she had enough before sending the money.
Now she wanted something for herself and suddenly every peso needed a reason.
She looked back at the restaurant.
Through the glass, everything looked carefully put together.
Not in the overly decorated way some cafés were, where every corner seemed designed for pictures. This place didn't seem to be trying that hard, and somehow that made it even more photogenic.
Warm lighting fell over cream-colored walls and dark wood. Small lamps glowed on each table despite the afternoon sun coming through the windows. Even the plants looked like someone had thought carefully about where each one should go.
Nothing seemed accidental.
The tables weren't crowded with decorations either. Just clean plates, polished glasses, folded napkins, and enough empty space to make everything look expensive.
She could already imagine how it would look on Instagram.
"This is stupid," she muttered.
Whether she meant the meal or herself, she wasn't sure.
A few minutes later, she walked back inside.
"Good afternoon, ma'am. How many?"
"One."
The hostess smiled. "Right this way."
That was all.
No strange look. No awkward pause.
The hostess was dressed neatly, her hair pulled back, not a strand out of place. The servers looked just as polished. Crisp uniforms, quiet voices, movements that somehow never seemed hurried even when they were carrying several plates at once.
She followed the hostess to a table near the window and sat down.
Almost immediately, she reached for her phone before realizing she didn't actually have anything to check.
She opened Instagram anyway.
Then Facebook.
Then Instagram again.
Eventually, she caught herself and placed her phone face down on the table.
Was this what people did when they ate alone?
Just sit there?
She looked around.
Nobody was paying attention to her.
A couple nearby was too busy talking. The woman had left her bag on the empty chair beside her, while the man across from her leaned back comfortably as they waited for their food.
At another table, a man barely looked at the menu before ordering.
"Ribeye. Twelve ounces. Medium rare."
He said something else about a side she didn't catch, then asked for another dish for the table.
At the table behind him, someone was deciding between two cuts of steak. Another person already seemed to know what they wanted before the server even reached them.
She didn't understand half of what they were saying.
But they did.
That was what she noticed.
They knew what to order. They knew how they wanted it cooked. Some asked for things that weren't even written exactly the way they appeared on the menu, and the servers understood them immediately.
Nobody hesitated.
Nobody stared at the prices for too long.
Nobody seemed to need an extra minute to decide whether something was worth it.
Even the people dressed casually looked comfortable here. Like they had eaten in places like this enough times that there was nothing particularly special about it.
Maybe that was what made them seem rich to her.
Not the clothes.
Not the bags.
Just the ease of it.
For her, ₱3,299 had required an internal debate, a walk outside, and several minutes of questioning her life choices.
For some of the people here, it was probably just lunch.
Someone else was eating alone too, completely unbothered by it.
Of course nobody cared.
When the server came, she ordered the set meal before she could talk herself out of it.
The cheapest one on the menu.
She closed the menu and handed it back before she could look at the price again.
The guilt didn't disappear when the first course arrived. For a while, the price remained somewhere in the back of her mind, quietly attaching itself to everything placed in front of her.
Fortunately, the food was good.
Annoyingly good.
By the next course, she had stopped thinking about the price every thirty seconds and started enjoying what she was eating.
Maybe her coworkers had been right about one thing.
It was good.
It was absolutely still expensive.
When another plate arrived, she took a picture before eating. She checked the photo afterward and adjusted the angle slightly before taking another one.
The second was better.
She didn't know why she bothered. She rarely posted anything. Most of the pictures she took stayed in her gallery until she eventually forgot they existed.
Her phone buzzed while she was putting it down.
Her coworker had sent her a reel.
It was about pretending to look busy whenever the manager walked past.
She laughed quietly.
They didn't message often outside work, but every now and then one of them would send a reel or a GIF, usually something related to the office. She had once admitted that an embarrassing amount of her screen time came from mindlessly doomscrolling after work, and apparently her coworker had taken that as permission to occasionally contribute to it.
She replied with a laughing GIF.
Then, without really thinking about it, she sent the picture of her food.
A few seconds later, her phone buzzed again.
Mika: where are you??
She sent the name of the restaurant.
Mika: YOU WENT THERE WITHOUT ME 😭
She stared at the message.
Without me?
They had never even made plans to go anywhere together.
Her: you never invited me???
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Mika: I'M INVITING YOU NOW. next time
She laughed.
Her: okayyy HAHAHAHA
She put her phone down, still smiling, but a few seconds later, she picked it up again.
Maybe sending the picture had been unnecessary.
What if it looked like she was showing off? She had never randomly sent Mika pictures of where she was eating before. Maybe she should have just reacted to the reel like she normally did.
She reread their conversation.
Nothing about Mika's replies seemed bothered. If anything, she seemed excited.
She locked her phone before she could think about it any further and went back to her food.
Still, she felt a little embarrassed.
She wasn't used to sharing pieces of her day with someone just because she wanted to.
She stayed longer than she expected.
Once she stopped wondering whether people noticed she was alone, there was something peaceful about it. She didn't have to wait for anyone to decide what they wanted, share what she ordered, or hurry because somebody else wanted to leave.
When the bill arrived, she still stared at the total for a few seconds before handing over her card.
She knew the expense wouldn't put her in trouble. Her bills were planned for, and payday would take care of the payments coming up. Still, part of her couldn't stop thinking about all the more practical things the money could have been used for.
That feeling probably wasn't going to disappear after one meal.
But she had enjoyed herself.
She decided not to ruin that by calculating what else the money could have bought.
When she stepped outside, the afternoon was still young. She wasn't ready to go home yet, so she walked without deciding exactly where she was going.
For once, nobody was waiting for her to be somewhere.
Across the street, a man waiting at the pedestrian crossing happened to look up.
His attention passed over the people waiting on the other side before returning to one woman in particular.
There was something familiar about her.
He looked again, trying to place where he might have seen her before, but nothing came to mind.
When the pedestrian light changed, people from both sides began crossing. She walked with the crowd, looking down at her phone.
As they passed each other, he glanced at her again.
She didn't notice him.
He slowed for a moment and looked back, but she continued walking without turning around.
Maybe he was mistaken.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen her somewhere before.
---
When she returned home that evening, the sound of the washing machine reached her before she made it to her room.
She stopped near the laundry area.
It was running.
Apparently, the problem had been handled without her.
She didn't ask who had paid for the repair. For now, she was simply relieved that someone else had taken care of it.
She was about to head to her room when her mother called her from the dining table.
"Anak, may tatanong sana ako." I wanted to ask you something.
She walked over. "Ano 'yon, Ma?" What is it, Ma?
Her mother had been talking for the past few days about a small food business she wanted to start. Someone she knew was apparently doing well selling packed meals and frozen products online, and now her mother wanted to try something similar.
She hadn't thought much of it at first. Her mother went through ideas like this every now and then. Some lasted a few months. Others never made it past the planning stage.
"Mag-loan ka kaya sa bank?" Why don't you take out a bank loan? her mother said.
She frowned. "Magkano?" How much?
"Fifty thousand lang." Only fifty thousand.
Lang. Only.
There was that word again.
Earlier, three thousand pesos had been not that expensive.
Now fifty thousand was only fifty thousand.
"Para saan?" What for?
"Puhunan. Bibili ng gamit saka paninda. Babayaran ko naman buwan-buwan." For capital. I'll use it to buy equipment and supplies. I'll pay it back every month.
She was quiet for a moment.
She had heard that before.
Not necessarily with fifty thousand pesos, but enough times to know how it usually went. Money would be borrowed with a promise to pay it back. A few payments might come. Then something would happen. An unexpected expense. A bad month. Something more important.
Eventually, nobody would mention the money anymore.
Except her.
She always remembered.
"Ayoko, Ma." I don't want to, Ma.
Her mother's expression changed. "Bakit?" Why?
"Ayoko nang mag-loan. Bakit hindi si Thomas na lang?" I don't want to take out another loan. Why not ask Thomas instead?
Thomas was the second eldest.
"Babayaran ko naman." I'll pay it back.
"Ma, ayoko lang. Kung gusto mong mag-business, okay lang. Pero ayoko na sa pangalan ko 'yung loan." Ma, I just don't want to. If you want to start a business, that's fine. But I don't want the loan under my name.
"Hindi naman kita pinagbabayad." I'm not asking you to pay for it.
"Pero pangalan ko." But it'll be under my name.
"Eh kasi ikaw 'yung madaling ma-approve." Because you're the one who's more likely to get approved.
Exactly.
She pressed her lips together.
Her mother sighed. "Kaya nga uutang. Hindi naman hinihingi sa'yo." That's why I'm borrowing it. I'm not asking you to give me the money.
She knew that.
Technically, her mother wasn't asking her to give her fifty thousand pesos.
But it would be her name on the loan. Her credit. Her responsibility if the payments stopped coming.
And experience had taught her that utang in their family had a strange way of becoming something nobody remembered except the person who ended up paying for it.
"Sorry. Ayoko na, Ma." Sorry, I really just don't want to, Ma.
Her mother stared at her for a moment before shaking her head.
"Ang damot mo na talaga ngayon." You've really become selfish lately.
She went still.
"Madamot?" Selfish?
"Eh di huwag. Nagtatanong lang naman ako." Fine, then don't. I was just asking.
Something tightened in her chest.
She could have let it go. Normally, she would have.
But after nearly a decade of helping with tuition, groceries, bills, medicine, school expenses, emergencies, and all the small amounts nobody remembered anymore, she couldn't believe that was the word her mother had chosen for her.
Madamot. Selfish.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
There were so many things she could have said that she couldn't seem to choose a single one.
She could remind her mother about the tuition she had helped pay. The groceries. The bills. The times someone needed money and she found a way to give it even when she didn't have much left for herself.
But saying any of it out loud suddenly felt ugly.
Like she had been keeping score.
Maybe, in some way, she had.
Not because she had given those things expecting to be repaid.
She simply remembered.
She remembered because every amount she gave had once been money she could have used for something else.
So instead of saying anything, she turned toward her room.
"Hindi ka naman ganyan dati." You weren't like that before, her mother said behind her.
She stopped.
That hurt more than madamot.
Because her mother was right.
She hadn't been like this before.
Before, she would have asked how much.
Before, she would have figured out the loan.
Before, she would have said yes and worried about herself afterward.
She continued to her room and closed the door.
For several minutes, she sat on the edge of her bed without doing anything.
The anger was still there, but underneath it was something heavier. Something that had been building long before tonight.
She looked around the room she had slept in for years. The same walls. The same furniture. The same house where someone only had to call Ate from another room and she would automatically answer.
Ang damot mo na talaga ngayon.
You've really become selfish lately.
She looked toward the flowers beside her window.
Then she reached for her phone.
She typed into the search bar:
studio apartment for rent near work
Listings filled the screen.
She stared at them.
She had looked at apartments before, usually out of curiosity. Sometimes she imagined what it would be like to live alone, only to close the page as soon as she saw the rent.
This time, she didn't close it.
She opened one listing.
Then another.
Then another.
For the first time, she wasn't wondering what it would be like.
She was calculating whether she could actually do it.
Rent.
Utilities.
Groceries.
Internet.
Transportation.
She would have less money left every month.
But the more she calculated, the more something became clear.
She could afford it.
Not comfortably enough to stop thinking about money, but enough.
She had spent years helping support an entire household.
Maybe supporting one person wouldn't be impossible.
Especially when that person was herself.
Her eyes moved toward the flowers again. They weren't as fresh as they had been the night she bought them, but they still made the room look a little different.
She picked up her phone and opened her Notes app.
Bucket List
Travel somewhere I've never been.
Watch the sunrise by the ocean.
✓ Eat somewhere nice by myself.
Make a real friend.
She stared at the list for a moment.
Then she added another line.
Move out.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Two words.
She had thought about it before, usually as something she'd do someday. When things were easier. When her family needed her less. When she had saved enough. When the timing was better.
There had always been a reason to wait.
She looked back at the apartment listings on her laptop.
Then at the first check mark on her list.
One down.