Miguel has meticulously strategized, reducing his visits to the store and coming in when Thalia isn't on the schedule. Despite his efforts, he still hasn't crafted the best argument to prove that either a) he's just goofing around, or b) he will absolutely benefit from the whole thing and she will, too.

Thalia is a master when it comes to sharp comebacks, rendering him speechless or on the losing side of their banter. Nonetheless, she's not that numb to simply disregard what he said. He won't be surprised if she decides to avoid him again, though for an entirely different reason this time. She might be thinking that he's a weirdo.

Miguel sighs audibly through his nose as he occupies one of the stools by the front door, the remnants of ginger ale the only company he has. Joshua, ever perceptive, slides onto the seat beside him and can't resist poking fun.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel responds with a 'pft,' a dismissive sound that speaks volumes. Joshua, undeterred, presses on with his teasing.

"I can tell when it's about a girl."

"Joshua, you run your own business, don't you?"

"Huh?"

"It's called 'mind your own'," he quips grumpily.

Joshua doesn't take him seriously, as usual. He rises from the stool, leaning in with a mischievous grin. "You know, in the Philippines, we have this thing we call panliligaw. Basic courtship."

(Pronunciation: pän-lï-lï-gäw)

"What? Panlili-gëw?"

"Gäw. Like 'a' as in... Apple." Joshua playfully leers at him, thoroughly amused that he's caught Miguel's attention, and that his predictions have been correct all along. "Back in the days, men visited the women they liked with a guitar. They'd serenade them right in front of their houses."

Miguel's expression twists into a grimace. "Are you shitting me? That's embarrassing."

"But it worked," Joshua counters, his eyes twinkling. "It doesn't happen as often nowadays, especially in the city, but we call that harana."

(Pronunciation: hä-rä-nä)

"Hë-rë-në?" Miguel repeats, resulting in another snort from Joshua.

"Close enough. Other than that, suitors write love letters, give gifts."

"So, it's about the same."

Joshua crosses his arms, deep in thought. "I suppose. But the point is, capturing a lady's heart is an arduous process that requires patience. It can take a long time."

Miguel, seemingly unimpressed, rises to his feet and deadpans, "It's the modern era. People even use dating apps. Swipe right, swipe left. You won't convince me to do all that."

"I'm not trying to convince. I'm just sharing... cultural knowledge. Something you probably didn't learn in school here," Joshua explains, his smile faltering. Stepping a few paces away, he suddenly halts and turns back, adding another tidbit of information.

"One more thing. When a guy gets rejected, we call it being basted. Are you basted?"

(Pronunciation: bäs-ted)

Miguel growls defensively, "I'm not!"

But Joshua has already marched away, whistling carelessly, as if he didn't intentionally agitate Miguel.

"Panlili-gew? Basted? Pft. Who cares about that?" he murmurs to himself, a bemused smirk on his lips, quietly grabbing his phone to look up the aforementioned unfamiliar terms on the internet.

Why not? It's for educational purposes.

******

Thalia doesn't miss Miguel. Nope, definitely not. But she's allowed to feel annoyed that she hasn't seen nor heard from him since that marriage proposal, isn't she? A guy can't just drop a bombshell like that and then ghost her.

Did he sniff his own fart that day? That's the only logical explanation.

She initially thought of spilling the bizarre proposal to her mother, but given the lack of follow-up from the groom, she reconsidered. Revealing such information might unnecessarily elevate Leonora's blood pressure, and she wasn't exactly planning to disclose that the whole thing would be a charade. Besides, she had mentioned Miguel to her a few times before, although none of those mentions were noteworthy enough to spark excitement within her family.

She didn't trash talk him! In all fairness, she had merely implied that the employer's son wasn't the most likeable person. That was it. If she ever changed her stance on Miguel, it could potentially turn into an incredible enemies-to-lovers story, right?

With a snort, Thalia shuts her laptop, finding it impossible to focus on the movie anyway. Might as well take a walk. As January nears its end, the weather is gradually warming up in anticipation of another drop in February. Seizing the opportunity to soak in some much-needed vitamin D, she bundles up, wearing her snow boots with cleats, and then ventures out. One step in, Thalia stops in her tracks, her keen eyes recognizing a piece of an envelope stuck to her right boot. She lifts her foot, inspecting it curiously before bringing it indoors with her.

A letter? Right at her doorstep? Shouldn't it be delivered in the mailbox?

Suspicious as she is, she's also a curious cat, so she rapidly opens the white envelope. A card is inside. Not a hallmark one, but rather a self-made one?

"To whom it may concern, you and I, we're like diamonds in the sky... Shine bright like a diamond."

She raises an eyebrow and wonders aloud, "Is this some kind of joke?"

She flips the card in several ways, yet doesn't find any name. Maybe they're giving this out to all the residents?

In the days that follow, more cards with barely legible handwriting and random song lyrics continue to arrive, usually after she returns from work. Thalia, growing increasingly intrigued, attempts to stay up late to catch the mysterious culprit but fails.

Weirdly, they seem familiar with her schedule.

Could it be...?

She dismisses the idea as quickly as it surfaces. Impossible. Why would he do something as crazy as leaving cards with song lyrics?

Then again, considering the unconventional proposal, perhaps this cryptic gesture should not be deemed too surprising anymore. If these cards were truly from Miguel.

Whereas she does feel a little cautious, Thalia finds a strange pleasure in reading the mysterious cards, if only because they provide a momentary escape from the relentless stack of bills demanding her attention. With thoughts of securing a second job to make ends meet hanging over her head, these unexpected tokens from an unknown sender inject a long-awaited distraction.

"Hello, Ma, how are you?" Thalia greets her mother as she returns from the store, clutching the latest card adorned with a stanza from If the World Was Ending, having discovered it tucked in its familiar spot under the door.

Leonora Sarmiento emits a sigh, and Thalia braces herself for the impending conversation. Most likely about Aly.

Here they go again.

"What is it? Aly? Is she there?"

"No, not Aly," she murmurs, the skin around her eyes bunching up.

Thalia grabs her leftover meal from the microwave and settles at the dining table, her attention focused on the person on the screen. Her heart beats erratically, a familiar reaction whenever her mother's tone suggests there's something urgent she needs to handle.

"Did something happen?" Thalia's voice holds an edge, the tension immediately palpable.

"Um, your Tito Jun..." Leonora hesitates, the name alone stirring unsettling memories.

Tito Jun–Leonora's youngest brother, a notorious gambling addict,and an estranged figure in their family. Thalia vividly recalls his turbulent visits during her childhood, moments when he'd burst into their house, demanding money. Her late father had to summon the barangay tanod to remove him forcibly.

(Bärängäy Tänöd: lowest level of law enforcement)

The mere mention of Tito Jun makes Thalia's body tense, her fists involuntarily curling, knees drawing together. "Did he come back? What did he do? Are you guys alright?"

"We're okay, we're okay..." Leonor says reassuringly, and Thalia feels a fleeting sense of relief.

"Then what is it? Why are you talking about Tito Jun?"

Leonora's gaze drops to her lap as she mumbles, "He's hospitalized. I... I had to use this month's allowance to pay some of his bills."

Exhaustion crashes into Thalia, threatening to knock her off her chair, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the news.

Why do these things keep happening to her? When would she break free from this cycle? Always teetering on the verge of financial instability, she feels one step away from missing meals or, God forbid, homelessness.

Despite earning above minimum wage at the store, it never seems to be enough.

"I'm so sorry, Thalia. I will just borrow some money from your Ninang."

(Trans: Ninang - Godmother)

"We still owe her some money, don't we? For Papa's hospital bills?" she interjects, every syllable a painful blow. "You can't..."

"Then do you still have any extra?" Leonora interrupts, and Thalia's response comes out hardly above a whisper.

"Extra?"

She can't keep going like this.

She will soon die.

******

Seated on his gaming chair, Miguel's focus strays far from his usual game streaming activities. A black pen tightly clenched in his hand, he contemplates signing the envelope—his name, or perhaps just his initials. Yet, what's the point? Thalia, smart as she is, has likely already figured it out.

And who else will do it if not him? She doesn't have any other suitors, does she?

Miguel's eyes widen at the thought, and biting the tip of the pen, he decides not to sign it for the fourteenth time.

He'll just show up at the store tomorrow and talk to her. One on one. Lay it all out. Forget about ghost possession or weed smoking or pranking. She can take it or leave it; if it's the latter, then they will both move on and return to the boss-employee dynamic, with a tiny dose of friendship.

A succession of hard knocks on the door rouses him from his contemplation, and he strides hastily, but carefully, to answer it.

"W-Who is it?!" he calls out.

Another pounding.

"What do you want?!"

"It's Thalia."

As the door unlocks, Thalia's sudden embrace shocks Miguel. Her arms tangle around his neck, and before he can question her, she slams her lips against his. Her cheeks feel damp, perhaps from recent tears, but with the biting -19-degree chill outside, it is impossible to be certain.

Miguel stands immobilized, eyes wide open, drawn into the unexpected kiss. Thalia deepens it, and he finds himself following her lead mechanically, all rationality temporarily suspended. When she pulls away, her eyes contain a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Why do you kiss like you've never kissed anyone?"

Miguel, still processing the whirlwind of emotions, stammers, "I... I don't understand what's going on."

With a resolute tone, Thalia redirects the conversation. "The deal. Let's make it happen. We'll sign that piece of paper. But the payment... It'll take longer. I need time to get the necessary credentials to get a higher paying job."

"Thalia, I... Ghost... Um..."

"Ghost?" Thalia tilts her head, waiting for an explanation. When Miguel hesitates, she makes an impatient declaration. "I'll be your wife."

******

A/N: It has been a while since I've written a chick lit-ish, adult romcom (my first one WFB? written in 2019).

I'm having a slight difficulty in removing dramatic elements; however, her experience isn't exactly the most fun ever, and I can't just make light of her personal struggles to keep this 100% lighthearted. BUT it's still gonna be a feel good story! So I hope you stick around and still enjoy it!