"Home isn't built with walls. It's built with the people who wait for you every morning."
The first thing I noticed wasn't the sunlight spilling across my bedroom floor.
It was the smell.
Warm chocolate.
Sweet, familiar, and impossible to mistake.
I smiled before I had even opened my eyes.
Mama was making champorado.
The realization lingered for a moment, pulling me out of sleep far more effectively than any alarm ever could. I stretched beneath my blanket, letting out a quiet sigh as the morning breeze slipped through the slightly opened window. Somewhere outside, birds perched on the electric wires greeted the day with cheerful chirps, while a motorcycle rumbled past our house, followed by the distant bell of the taho vendor making his usual rounds through the neighborhood.
It was a peaceful Saturday.
The kind of morning that felt unhurried.
The kind you wished could last forever.
I reached for my phone on the bedside table, nearly knocking over a half-empty bottle of water in the process. Squinting against the brightness of the screen, I froze the moment I saw the time.
10:48 A.M.
"...You're kidding."
I stared at the numbers for another second, hoping they would magically change.
They didn't.
With a groan, I dropped my face into my pillow.
"I overslept again."
That made three Saturdays in a row.
Mama was definitely going to bring it up at breakfast.
Not that I could blame her.
Most people stayed up late watching movies or chatting with friends.
Me?
I spent nearly six hours walking around the mall looking for a toy.
I laughed quietly to myself as the memory came flooding back.
Yesterday had started with a simple plan: buy a few school supplies, grab a milk tea on the way home, and finally finish the architectural drawing I'd been putting off all week.
Instead, I found myself wandering from one toy store to another because of a single offhand comment my younger brother had made months ago.
"Ang ganda no'n, Ate."
That was all he'd said.
He hadn't asked me to buy it.
He hadn't even mentioned it again.
But every time we passed a toy store after that, I'd notice him slowing down just enough to glance through the display window before pretending he wasn't interested.
As if I didn't know him.
As if I hadn't watched him grow up.
By the fourth toy store, I was ready to admit defeat. My feet ached, my paper bags felt heavier with every step, and I was already thinking about heading home when one of the employees stopped me.
"Looking for something specific, Ma'am?"
I showed him a picture on my phone.
He studied it for a few seconds before scratching the back of his head.
"I think we have one left. Let me check the stockroom."
Those five minutes felt longer than my architecture finals.
When he returned carrying a small blue box, I couldn't stop smiling.
"The last one," he said.
Without thinking twice, I bought it.
It wasn't cheap.
Actually...
It cost more than I planned to spend that day.
But the image that immediately came to mind wasn't the receipt.
It was Zero's face. That wide grin of his.
The one that always made every peso feel worth it.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. Three gentle taps echoed from the other side of the door.
"Zera?" Mama called. "Are you finally awake?"
I quickly looked around my room. My blanket had somehow ended up on the floor.
My sketchbooks were piled unevenly beside my drafting table, with mechanical pencils scattered between them. A hoodie hung carelessly over my chair, and several sticky notes filled with reminders clung to the wall above my desk.
So much for cleaning my room yesterday.
"I am!" I called back, trying to sound more awake than I actually was.
There was a brief pause before Mama answered, amusement evident in her voice.
"Really?"
"...Mostly." Her laugh filtered through the wooden door.
"I've been calling you for almost twenty minutes."
"I heard you."
"And?"
"I was... emotionally awake."
This time she laughed a little louder. "What does that even mean?"
"It means my brain wanted to wake up."
"And your body?"
"It filed a complaint."
I heard her sigh dramatically. "I wonder who taught you to be this stubborn."
I smiled as I slipped into my slippers and walked toward the door.
"You, probably."
The moment I opened it, I found Mama standing in the hallway with her floral apron tied neatly around her waist. A few wisps of hair had escaped her bun, framing her face after what was clearly a busy morning in the kitchen.
Even so...
She smiled the instant our eyes met.
"There she is," she said warmly, reaching out to smooth my messy hair with one hand. "Good morning, sleepyhead."
"Good morning, Ma."
She studied me for a second before shaking her head with a laugh.
"You look like you wrestled your blanket."
"I lost."
"I can see that."
Before I could defend myself, my stomach chose that exact moment to let out an embarrassingly loud growl.
Mama raised an eyebrow. "There it is."
I frowned innocently. "There what?"
"The real reason you finally woke up."
A grin spread across my face as I inhaled deeply. The sweet aroma drifting from the kitchen was impossible to ignore.
"Wait..." I said, my eyes lighting up. "Don't tell me..."
Mama smiled knowingly.
"Champorado."
I clasped both hands dramatically over my heart.
"My favorite."
"I know," she replied, trying not to laugh. "That's exactly why I made it."
Without thinking, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders as we started walking toward the staircase.
"Has anyone ever told you you're the best cook in the world?"
"Oh?" Mama glanced sideways at me. "What do you want?"
I gasped in mock offense.
"So I can't compliment my own mother anymore?"
"You can."
She gently bumped my shoulder with hers.
"But whenever you suddenly become this sweet, it usually means you're about to ask for something."
I pretended to think about it.
"...Can I have an extra bowl?"
She chuckled.
"I knew it."
We both laughed as we made our way downstairs, the old wooden steps creaking softly beneath our feet.
For a moment, it was just the two of us.
A mother and her daughter sharing an ordinary conversation on an ordinary morning.
Neither of us knew that, months from now, I would remember this exact moment over and over again.
Not because anything extraordinary happened.
But because it was ordinary.
And sometimes...
those become the memories you miss the most.
End of Chapter 1
— IamPrecious —