The office door opened too early.
Peachy froze mid-step, her fingers still wrapped around the sticky note meant for the drawer.
Charlie Mo stood at the threshold, suited in charcoal, with a half-finished coffee in one hand and years of exhaustion in his eyes.
Her eyes widened. "Oh! I—sorry po! Akala ko po wala pa kayo—"
He blinked at her. "You're the one."
Peachy stiffened. "P-po?"
He walked in, shutting the door quietly behind him. "The notes. You're the one leaving them."
She held the small piece of paper against her chest, like it could protect her from embarrassment. "I-I wasn't trying to offend or overstep. Hindi ko po sinasadya kung nakakainis—"
"You shouldn't be in here without permission," he said flatly, setting down his coffee.
Peachy bowed her head, face burning. "Yes, sir. Pasensya na po talaga. I'll stop."
She placed the sticky note down—today's message read "The moon still shines even when no one's looking."—and turned to leave, her fingers shaking.
But something in him flinched at the sudden emptiness.
"No one's ever said anything like that to me," Charlie said, almost inaudibly. "Not since..."
Not since Maia. Not since he learned love was a luxury for the naive.
Peachy paused at the door. "I wasn't expecting anything back. Gusto ko lang... makatulong. Even if you never knew it was me."
Charlie looked at the drawer. "I kept all of them."
She blinked, stunned. "All?"
He nodded. "Every single one."
Then silence.
Heavy, awkward, and too intimate.
Peachy gave a sheepish bow. "Thank you po. Pero hindi ko na uulitin. I won't bother you again."
And before he could say anything more, she slipped out of the office.
Charlie sat in his chair after she left, his coffee now forgotten and cold.
Her absence hit harder than he thought it would.
He opened the drawer again, rereading her last note.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhXN55YYGV3
"The moon still shines even when no one's looking."
But now, there were no pink smudges, no new doodles to look forward to.
Just silence.
Just him.
The next morning, there was no note.
Nor the next.
Nor the next.
Charlie stared at the empty drawer like something vital had been stolen. He told himself he preferred it that way. That she had crossed a line, and he had only set it straight.
But it didn't feel like clarity.
It felt like loss.
Downstairs, Peachy avoided the 30th floor like it was cursed.
"Wag ka na dun," Patty had warned. "Baka masisante ka pa. Di mo ba alam si Mr. Mo? Hindi 'yan basta-basta."
"Okay lang," Peachy murmured. "Di naman ako importante."
But her heart betrayed her. Every time she passed a post-it pad, her fingers itched. Every empty wall whispered things she wished she could still say.
Was she really foolish for trying?
Gullible, maybe.
But never cruel.
Three days later, habang naglalagay siya ng clean towels sa hallway ng 29th floor, a voice called behind her.
"You stopped writing."
Peachy turned around slowly, eyes widening.
Charlie Mo stood there, looking misplaced in his own hotel—like he didn't know why he'd walked that far down, only that something was missing.
"Sir?"
"I checked the drawer," he said, voice lower. "It's been empty."
She swallowed. "You said I shouldn't."
He took a hesitant step forward. "I didn't mean... not ever."
Silence again.
"I just meant... don't stop because of me."
Her lips parted, unsure if she should cry or laugh. "Why would I keep doing it kung hindi niyo rin gusto?"
"I didn't say I didn't like it," he said quietly.
"You didn't say anything good either," she replied, voice trembling.
Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't talk much anymore."
"Well, I do too much of it," she said with a small smile. "Kaya siguro ang dali ko masaktan. Kasi palagi akong nagsasalita kahit wala namang sumasagot."
They stood there, a broken boy and a hopeful girl, unsure of what to do with each other.
Then Charlie glanced at her apron.
"You still carry them," he said.
Peachy followed his eyes to the sticky notes sticking out of her pocket. "Habit."
He reached out—hesitated—and then said, "Will you leave one more?"
She looked up, startled. "Now?"
He nodded, almost sheepishly. "Please."
Peachy pulled out a pale blue square. She looked at him for a long, searching moment, then wrote carefully.
She handed it to him with both hands.
He read it silently:
"Not all quiet things are empty. Some are just waiting to be heard."
Charlie blinked.
When he looked up, Peachy had already turned away—heart pounding, cheeks hot.
But she was smiling.
Because this time... he had asked.
End of Chapter 6.
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