The alarm shrieked at 6:30 AM.
Eman's eyes snapped open, jarring him from a dream that felt more real than the king-sized bedroom around him. His chest heaved as fragments of another life flickered through his mind like dying embers. He ran his calloused fingers through his wavy black hair, the strands damp with sweat.
Leo.
The name echoed in his head, foreign yet familiar. He sat up, rubbing his temples as confusion washed over him. The dream had felt so vivid. So true. But that was impossible.
Meow.
The soft sound cut through his disorientation. Right. The kittens. He blinked, forcing himself back to reality as he reached for his phone. Those sharp brown eyes that had served him well in countless corporate meetings now struggled to focus on the screen.
7 AM.
"Shit," he muttered, the strange dream already fading as routine took over.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, shaking off the nagging feeling that something was fundamentally wrong with the world around him.
Just a weird dream.
Nothing more.
Meow.
Eman shook his head. Even at home, he could hear those precious meows. He stumbled to his feet, grabbed his towel, and headed for the shower. The feeling of wrongness clung to him like morning fog, but he pushed it down.
He had responsibilities.
####
Eman maneuvered his scooter through the congested streets, every twist and turn a dance to stay alive in the relentless traffic. His lean frame hunched slightly over the handlebars, the same posture he'd perfected during years of motorcycle maintenance.
He swerved to avoid an inattentive pedestrian stepping into traffic, then quickly adjusted his course as a colorful jeepney suddenly pulled over to pick up a line of waiting passengers.
The relentless sun beat down, the scent of asphalt and exhaust thick in the air. Sweat trickled down his back as his scooter's engine vibrated beneath him. He glanced at his scooter's clock: 11:23 AM. An hour more before his shift.
Meow.
Eman's head turned slightly. The sound was faint, almost lost in the traffic noise, but it was there. He shook his head, refocusing on the road with that calculating look that had become second nature.
He guided his scooter into a distant parking spot, battling the midday heat. Pulling out his towel, he wiped his face clean of stubble and sweat and dashed toward the mini-mart as the "Walk" signal flashed.
As he entered, a gust of cold air washed over his sun-baked skin. The familiar chime of the door rang out as his eyes scanned shelves stacked with instant noodles, dried mango snacks, and bottled fruit juice. The smell of freshly baked pandesal from the small bakery section teased his nose.
Eman bought the usual: chicken sandwich, a bottle of water, and a can of milk. One of the staff members looked curiously at him as he went outside the store and saw him turn into a corner down the street. She continued stocking the shelf, but after a minute, she saw him walk out from the corner and enter the building just across the street.
"I always see him visit that corner."
The store owner asked if she wanted to check it out. She nodded enthusiastically and rushed to the place. A pathway greeted her right after she turned the corner; it was wide enough for three people to walk side by side. She tilted her head as her forehead slightly furrowed.
Hearing a muffled meow, she peeked behind the makeshift curtain and discovered two small white kittens. A bowl of fresh milk sat beside them, and she smiled before returning to the store.
####
It was 12:30 PM when Eman entered the building's cafeteria. He was about to sit when a woman sat in front of him. It was Shiela, his colleague and the one who had guided him when he was just starting at the company. Her long black hair was tied in its usual neat ponytail, and those warm brown eyes immediately focused on him with that familiar concern.
They were eating their lunch and chatting as usual. Shiela was asking him the usual questions about his plans in life, her slender fingers gracefully managing her spoon as she stirred her curry rice.
"You already own a house, right?" she asked, her morena complexion glowing under the cafeteria's fluorescent lights.
Eman nodded slowly, taking a sip of water. Despite being two years younger, she carried herself with the confidence of someone who'd earned her place through hard work.
"Why not adopt the kittens, then?" she added, before eating another spoonful of rice.
Eman's grip tightened around his bottle.
"You know..." he trailed off. He stared out the window, eyes distant, as memories clawed at his focus.
Leo!
The call was distant but clear. Eman's head snapped up, scanning the cafeteria. His sharp brown eyes darted from table to table, searching for the source of the voice.
"Eman?" Shiela's brow furrowed with concern, her voice taking on that protective tone he'd grown accustomed to.
"Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
He turned back to her, confusion flickering across his face. "Did you... did you hear someone call my name?"
"No." She studied his expression carefully, her naturally nurturing instincts kicking in. "Are you feeling alright?"
Eman shook his head, forcing a smile. "Yeah, sorry. Just... thought I heard something."
She swallowed the food in her mouth and continued, switching to that gentle but firm tone that reminded him why everyone called her "Ate" despite her age.
"Don't be afraid to move on..."
"You already have a house. Caring for them would be much simpler if they were with you anyway."
Shiela was about to continue the conversation when someone called her. She scooped all the remaining curry rice from the container and tidied her side of the table with practiced efficiency. After taking the food container to the trash, she waved to her colleague and hurried back toward their table, her petite frame moving with purpose.
She leaned toward him and whispered,
"You're going to regret it if something happens to those kittens."
"I know you'll never forgive yourself."
Her eyes softened with genuine concern, and for a moment, he saw past the professional facade to the caring person underneath.
"Do it now, while you still can."
She then tapped the table and walked toward her waiting colleague. Eman looked outside the glass wall beside him, and a wave of thoughts surged through him, but he decided to avoid any new commitments. His pragmatic nature winning out over sentiment once again.
He opened his food box and finished his lunch. With a crumple of the paper bag, he stood, pushed his chair back, and made his way to the elevator.
####
Back at his desk, Eman settled in for the afternoon. His colleague Alex from the next cubicle leaned over.
"Hey, Eman," Alex began, "how's it going with your investments and life insurance?"
Eman glanced at him,
"I don't check them that frequently, but it seems they've been quite profitable these past few years. It's all part of the plan, you know?"
Alex nodded.
"That's good to hear."
"You always seem to have everything figured out. It must be nice to have that safety net."
"It is," Eman admitted, turning back to his computer with those methodical movements.
"But it's still a lot of work to keep everything in balance."
The two continued working in companionable silence. Eman occasionally glanced at the clock, mentally counting down the hours until he could head home, his slightly tired eyes reflecting the weight of routine.
An hour later, as he was engrossed in testing a particularly tricky piece of code, he saw Shiela walking past in the hallway. Even from a distance, he could see the determined set of her shoulders, that confident stride that had intimidated him during his first week.
Her words about regretting not taking care of the kittens echoed in his mind.
Meow.
The sounds were faint, barely audible over the office's air conditioning. Eman paused his typing, listening. When the sounds faded, he returned to his work, but the unease remained.
####
When the clock finally struck 5:30 PM, Eman packed up his things and clocked out. He decided to stop by the mini-mart again to buy more food and milk for the kittens. The staff member from earlier gave him a knowing look but said nothing as he paid for his items.
Eman retraced his steps to the alley where the kittens were. They were still there, nestled in the box. He refilled their food bowl and added more milk, watching them for a few moments as they eagerly ate. His lean frame crouched down, those calloused hands gentle as he adjusted their makeshift shelter.
"Stay safe, you two," he murmured before heading back to the parking lot.
As he walked, his phone vibrated. He pulled it out and saw a notification from his game, reminding him to claim his offline VIP rewards. He smiled, briefly relishing the small victory in his virtual world, then locked his phone as he reached the parking lot and mounted his scooter.
Shiela's words replayed in his mind during the ride home. Thoughts of the kittens gnawed at him, distracting him from the road ahead.
What if something happened to them?
What if Shiela was right?
But then the memories surfaced—the sleepless nights, the constant pressure, the weight of responsibility. The image of a small grave flashed in his mind.
His chest tightened at the thought of failing them like he had failed before. The argument in his mind was intense, but ultimately, the fear of failure won out.
He continued driving, lost in thought.
A blinding glare flashed in his mirror. He turned. Heart racing, Eman's focus narrowed as a van hurtled toward him, slow realization creeping over him before his brain could catch up to the approaching danger.
The collision was brutal.
His scooter slammed into the center divider, sending him flying several meters. The world around Eman spun violently, each rotation a blur of pain and chaos.
The impact slammed him against the asphalt, a sickening crunch reverberating through his body as his vision blurred. Pain shot through his spine, but it was the cold, suffocating darkness that began to creep in around him.
Blood pooled beneath him, staining his wavy black hair. Each breath became a struggle, each heartbeat weaker than the last.
Through the haze of pain, figures began to materialize. Translucent. Bloodied.
His parents stood over him, their faces etched with sorrow and guilt. His sister. Small, fragile, forever young in his memory, knelt beside them.
"We're sorry," his mother whispered, her voice echoing as if from a great distance. "We couldn't give her a good life and left you both behind."
His father's voice cracked. "Forgive us, son. We failed you and your sister."
Eman tried to raise his arm, to reach for them, to tell them it wasn't their fault. But his body wouldn't respond. Blood bubbled from his lips as he coughed, the metallic taste filling his mouth.
His sister's ghostly hand seemed to touch his cheek. "It's not your fault, kuya. What happened to me was never your fault."
Faint red and blue lights flashed around him. The muted sounds of traffic and shouting of men blended into the back of his mind.
Leo!
The voice grew louder, more urgent. The sounds seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, overlapping with the meowing of cats that grew in intensity.
Meow. Meow. MEOW.
LEO!
The sounds crashed over him like waves, drowning out the fading noise of the city. His vision dimmed, the world closing in from all sides. But in those last moments, as the darkness claimed him, Eman's lips curved into the faintest of smiles.
Then everything went black.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself suspended in an endless void. The pain was gone. The blood, the broken bones, the crushing weight of failure.
All of it had vanished.
Floating beside him were two familiar white cats, their eyes bright and alert in the strange, ethereal space. And there, materializing from the darkness, was a figure he instantly recognized.
"Welcome back, Leo, we've been waiting for you." Ai said, flicking her hair.