The doorbell rang the next morning before I'd even finished cleaning up breakfast.
I thought it was a delivery. Maybe one of the neighbors.
But when I opened the door, Reya was standing there.
She had a plastic bag in each hand, her hair tied up messily like she hadn't even brushed it before coming.
"Hey," she said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I blinked. "Why are you here?"
She held up the bags. "Because you said 'I don't know' last night. That's not an answer I let slide."
I didn't know what to say to that.
She walked in like she'd been there a hundred times before, kicking off her shoes at the door.
The bags went straight to the kitchen table. I heard plastic rustle and caught the smell before I saw what it was.
"Breakfast," she announced. "From that bakery near school. I brought pandesal, cheese rolls, and those weird custard things you like."
"I didn't say I liked them," I muttered.
"You didn't say you didn't," she shot back, already unpacking.
Maria came into the kitchen a minute later, leaning on the wall for support.
"Oh," she said, surprised. "We have company."
"Hi, ma'am," Reya said quickly, like she wasn't sure if she should call her Tita or Ma'am and picked the safer option.
Maria smiled, soft but tired. "You must be Reya."
Reya nodded. "I, uh… I brought breakfast."
Maria's brows lifted slightly, amused. "I see that."
She sat down slowly, and Reya jumped up, fussing like she'd been there her whole life.
"Here—this one's fresh," she said, placing a cheese roll in front of Maria like it was a gift.
Maria laughed under her breath. "Thank you."
I sat across from them, watching something strange happen.
Reya wasn't loud, but she filled the kitchen in a way the silence hadn't allowed in weeks.
She talked to Maria easily—asked if she liked the bakery, if she'd tried their chocolate bread, if Aki (meaning me) ever helped cook.
"He burns the garlic," Maria said, lips twitching.
"Mom—" I started, but Reya laughed so hard she nearly dropped the bread knife.
"I knew it," she said, grinning at me. "You look like someone who burns garlic."
I wanted to argue. Instead, I just ate my pandesal.
After breakfast, Reya didn't leave.
She started picking up dishes like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You don't have to—" I began.
"I do," she interrupted, rinsing a plate. "Your sink isn't gonna wash itself."
Maria chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair.
"You've got a bossy friend, Aki," she said.
Reya didn't even deny it. "Someone's gotta be."
We ended up in the living room afterward.
Maria was resting on the couch, the blanket pulled up to her shoulders, her breathing steady but slow.
Reya sat on the floor by the coffee table, sorting through the sketchbook I'd left there the night before.
"You've been drawing a lot," she said quietly, flipping a page.
"Not last night," I admitted.
She paused on one drawing—the one I'd done of Maria, hair damp, eyes tired, but still smiling faintly.
Her voice softened. "This one's… different."
I didn't answer.
Reya closed the book carefully, like it was fragile.
Later, while Maria napped, Reya and I stepped outside.
She leaned against the railing of the front steps, pulling her hair back into a ponytail with an elastic she'd had around her wrist.
"Your mom's nice," she said.
"She's…" I hesitated, looking for the word. "She's strong."
Reya looked at me for a long moment. "You don't have to act like you're fine all the time."
I stared at the street. "If I don't, she'll notice."
"She already notices," Reya said softly. "She's your mom."
For a while, we just stood there.
The street was quiet, only the hum of a tricycle passing by in the distance.
Reya nudged my shoulder. "Hey. You don't have to do this alone."
I looked at her.
She met my eyes without flinching.
"I mean it," she said. "I'll come by. Help with dishes. Burn garlic with you. Whatever."
I almost said she didn't need to.
But the words caught in my throat and stayed there.
By late afternoon, Maria woke up, smiling faintly at the sight of Reya still there.
"You're still here?" she asked.
"Someone had to make sure he didn't feed you burnt dinner again," Reya said, grinning.
Maria laughed—a real laugh this time—and for the first time in days, the house felt lighter.
That night, after Reya finally left, the silence didn't feel quite so heavy.
Maria was already asleep, and I sat at my desk again, staring at a blank page.
I didn't cry this time.
I just breathed, and for the first time in days, it didn't hurt as much.
Because someone had shown up.
Chapter 8 End