Chapter 6

Ashley watched Danielle from across the conference room table the next afternoon.

They were waiting for a call to connect with a potential client, but the Zoom link was delayed. An awkward stillness hung between them, filled only by the quiet hum of the aircon and the occasional clicks of Danielle’s pen tapping lightly against her notepad.

Ashley glanced up, expecting the usual impatient sighs or aggressive tapping on the desk. But instead, Danielle looked… far away. Her posture wasn’t tense like before. She wasn’t furrowing her brows or typing furiously on her phone. Her gaze had drifted out the window, unfocused, like she was somewhere else entirely.

Something in Ashley’s chest pulled. For a moment, she wasn’t looking at “The Boss.” She was looking at a woman. Tired. Maybe even haunted.

Ashley wasn’t sure why, but her instinct told her—this version of Danielle mattered. So she said nothing, just observed in silence.

And Danielle, still gazing into the past, seemed to unravel.

Twelve years ago.

Danielle wasn’t yet the woman people feared.

She was 26, wide-eyed but determined, walking into the steel-and-glass towers of her first real job in Makati. She wore heels that pinched and a blazer one size too big, a graduation gift from her aunt.

Her boss back then, Mr. Javier, was the kind of man who smiled with his mouth but not his eyes. He praised her when others were watching, but behind closed doors, he berated her for every typo, every late reply, every second she hesitated.

“You want to succeed here, Ms. Reyes?” he once told her with a smirk. “Grow thicker skin. Or grow wings and fly out the window.”

She never cried in the office. She refused. But there were nights she sat on the floor of her cramped condo, knees pulled to her chest, wondering if she was built for this world.

But she stayed.

She worked twice as hard as her peers, accepted twice the workload, and said “yes” even when she was burning out. The senior managers took notice. Not of her exhaustion, but of her results. She rose fast, climbed sharp.

And every level up hardened her a little more.

She learned that kindness was often mistaken for weakness. That if she let even one mistake slip, the whispers would start: She got lucky. She’s not ready. Just a pretty face.

So she built armor. Spoke firmly. Held eye contact a beat too long. Cut fluff from her emails. Raised her standards so high that even she struggled to reach them.

There was no room for vulnerability. No time to hold hands.

Danielle learned to lead the way she was taught—through fear, through pressure, through survival.

Until one day, someone didn’t break. Someone pushed back, calmly, bravely.

And for the first time, Danielle wondered if there was another way.

The conference call finally connected.

Danielle blinked, straightening in her chair. The distant look disappeared, replaced by her usual composed expression. She clicked the “Join” button and nodded at Ashley. “Let’s get started.”

But Ashley didn’t miss it.

That flicker. That softness.

She saw it now—the cracks in the concrete. The girl who once sat on a condo floor, asking if this was worth it. The woman who had built a fortress around herself not out of cruelty, but out of necessity.

Ashley suddenly understood.

Danielle wasn’t just difficult. She was damaged by a system that demanded too much and gave too little in return. She wasn’t heartless—she was hardened. Sharpened by years of silent battles no one else witnessed.

And maybe… she didn’t want to stay that way forever.

After the call, Danielle lingered. She closed her laptop slower than usual, like she wasn’t in a rush to return to her office.

“You handled the pitch well,” she said, voice even.

Ashley blinked. “Thank you.”

A pause.

Then Danielle added, “When I was your age, I fumbled my first five pitches. Couldn’t sleep the night before each one. Got scolded. Cried in a restroom stall once.”

Ashley’s eyes widened slightly. It was the most human thing she’d ever heard her say.

Danielle smirked. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ll deny it.”

Ashley smiled, lips twitching. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Danielle stood. For once, there was no barked order. No dismissive wave. Just a quiet nod before she exited the room.

Ashley sat back in her chair, the hum of her laptop still buzzing beside her. She felt something shift—not just in Danielle, but in herself.

She wasn’t just surviving this job anymore.

She was learning how to navigate it—on her own terms.

And for the first time, it felt like maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t alone in trying.

It was already past 8 PM when Ashley finally got out of the office.

She found Des waiting by the sidewalk, sipping milk tea with two cups in hand and headphones half-dangling from her phone.

"Akala ko aabutin ka na naman ng gabi," Des said, handing her one. “Taro, 30% sugar. Alam kong 'yun 'yung 'pagod-na-ko-sa-buhay' order mo.”

Ashley chuckled as she took the drink. “Tama ka na naman.”

They started walking toward the terminal, the night breezy and the city lights casting soft glows on the sidewalks. The usual hum of cars and late-night vendors filled the silence between them.

“So…” Des nudged her. “Kamusta si Queen D kanina?”

Ashley didn’t answer right away. She was still trying to make sense of it herself.

“Alam mo, weird,” she began, her voice quieter than usual. “Kanina habang hinihintay namin 'yung Zoom call, I looked at her. Like, really looked. And she wasn’t her usual scary self. Parang… nalulungkot.”

Des raised an eyebrow. “Si Danielle? Nalulungkot? Baka nagka-lagnat.”

“No, seryoso,” Ashley said, smiling a little. “I think she remembered something. She looked… I don’t know, distant. Tired. Parang may bigat sa loob.”

Des took a sip of her drink and walked slower. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. I just let her be,” Ashley replied. “But then after the meeting, she told me I did a good job. Tapos bigla siyang nagkwento—na she used to mess up her pitches too. Na she even cried in a restroom stall.”

Des stopped walking. “Wait. SHE SAID THAT?”

Ashley nodded. “I almost dropped my laptop sa gulat.”

“Okay, that’s actually kind of… wow.” Des looked up at the sky like she was checking for signs of the apocalypse. “Akala ko kapag nagsmile si Ma’am Danielle, puputok 'yung building. Pero nagsabi pa siya ng weakness niya? Voluntary? Sa’yo?”

Ashley laughed. “Exactly my point. I’ve never seen her that way. Parang for once, she wasn’t playing a role.”

They kept walking, the mood shifting from amused to thoughtful.

“You think may pinagdadaanan siya?” Des asked.

“Maybe. Or maybe she’s just tired of pretending she’s invincible all the time,” Ashley said softly. “I think… she used to be like us. Hopeful. Eager. But something broke along the way. And now she protects herself by being strict, cold, unreachable.”

Des was quiet for a moment. Then: “That’s kinda sad.”

“It is,” Ashley said. “And it makes me think… what if that’s who we become? After years in this kind of system. After getting hurt and pushed and overworked. What if that happens to us too?”

Des looked at her, eyes clear despite the fatigue. “Then we don't let it. We take care of each other. We call each other out when we start turning into corporate robots. Deal?”

Ashley smiled and held out her pinky. “Deal.”

Des hooked hers with Ashley’s, sealing the promise like they were still in grade school.

“Tapos kapag napansin mong nagiging Danielle na ako,” Des added, “sabihan mo ako agad. Like, ‘Uy! Bawal mag-shriek ng ‘Unacceptable!’ sa pantry.’”

Ashley laughed. “Or ‘Stop using red font sa emails!’”

They both burst into giggles, the kind that echoed down the street and felt like release after a long, hard day.

But underneath the jokes, Ashley felt something shift in her again.

Danielle wasn’t just her tormentor. She was a cautionary tale. A reminder. A reflection of what the job could do to you if you forgot how to be human.

And Des—Des was her anchor. Her mirror. Her reason to stay soft in a world that kept asking her to harden.

“Thanks for waiting for me, ha,” Ashley said as they neared the jeep terminal.

“Always,” Des replied. “Next time, ikaw naman treat ng milk tea. Basta before 9 PM.”

Ashley smiled, heart lighter than it had been in days.

Because now, she knew—she wasn’t just surviving this corporate maze.

She was learning to stay whole in it.