I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World-Chapter 190: Date Part 2

3:50 PM — SM North EDSA Cinema | Cinema 6

They left the bookstore with light bags in hand—Angel clutching her paperback space opera and Matthew carrying a thin architectural journal he pretended wasn't for work.

The escalator ride to the cinemas was slow, lazy, and comfortable. Above them, digital boards cycled through trailers and posters. Rows of Marvel, local romance, and anime movies flashed like neon promises. Angel paused in front of the list and looked over her shoulder at Matthew.

"Action, comedy, or… emotions?"

He pretended to consider. "Define 'emotions.'"

She smirked. "Crying at a coming-of-age story about a kid and his dog."

"Pass. I didn't bring tissues."

"Fine. How about the new sci-fi romance? The one set on Mars?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Forbidden love between an Earth diplomat and a Martian rebel?"

She grinned. "Exactly."

He sighed theatrically. "Alright. But if there's a tragic violin scene during a zero-gravity kiss, I'm blaming you."

They bought tickets, grabbed popcorn—one classic butter, one with sour cream—and found seats in the middle row. As the lights dimmed and the trailers rolled, Matthew glanced sideways. Angel was already half-buried in her bucket of popcorn, her knees drawn up slightly on her seat.

The movie was surprisingly good. Not groundbreaking, but emotionally steady. There was loss, there was defiance, and yes—there was a slow, spinning kiss inside a Martian hydroponics lab, complete with orchestral strings.

Matthew leaned over mid-film and whispered, "Called it."

Angel didn't reply. She just elbowed him gently, eyes still fixed on the screen.

—

6:20 PM — Outside the Cinema

They stepped out into the dimmer mall lights. The crowd was thinner now, the noise dulled.

"That wasn't bad," Angel said, stretching her arms overhead. "Even if you did keep muttering things like 'structurally unsound' every time they floated through space."

"I was just pointing out orbital inconsistencies."

"You were nitpicking the airlock design like it was part of our Leyte tunnel."

He chuckled. "I'll admit it had heart."

She smiled. "Told you. Sci-fi romance."

As they walked past the food court, Angel looked up toward the Sky Garden walkway. The ambient lights were starting to flicker on overhead—warm orange and white strung like fireflies across the curved glass canopy.

"Dinner?" she asked.

Matthew checked the time. "Yeah. You pick this one."

"Done. But no hot pot this time. I want something quiet. Somewhere we won't run into a project manager."

—

6:50 PM — Sky Garden, SM North | Ninyo's Kitchen and Garden Café

They found it nestled between larger chains and high-end grills—Ninyo's was a smaller place, more hidden, with soft music, small wooden tables, and hanging plants that gently swayed with the garden breeze.

Angel requested outdoor seating. The table overlooked the mall's koi pond and the far edges of the city skyline.

"Nice," Matthew said, settling in as the server brought menus. "Feels like we're in a quiet province instead of fifteen meters above EDSA."

"That's why I chose it," Angel said, tugging her jacket closed. "This place slows things down."

They ordered grilled salmon, truffle pasta, and a bottle of white wine.

For a while, they didn't talk about work. They just… talked.

Angel told him about how, as a kid, she once tried to build a treehouse out of recycled wood and nearly fell off the ladder. Matthew confessed he once skipped school just to sit in a library reading schematics of subway systems in Tokyo.

"I thought I was the nerd," she teased.

"I was a nerd with ambition," he replied, raising his glass.

They clinked lightly, the chime soft and simple.

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Beneath the gentle clatter of utensils and soft instrumental jazz, their dinner unfolded without hurry. The city existed beyond the canopy, but in that hour, it felt distant. Like someone else's world.

—

8:15 PM — Sky Garden Walk

They walked slowly along the curved garden path. The air was cooler now, and Matthew had taken off his blazer, slinging it over his shoulder. Angel's arm occasionally brushed his, and neither of them stepped away.

"Do you ever think about what comes after all this?" Angel asked.

Matthew glanced at her. "You mean after Sentinel? Or after the trains?"

"Both."

He thought for a moment. "I think… I'd like to teach one day. Maybe in a quiet city. Just engineering and life. Pass down what we figured out the hard way."

She smiled. "That actually suits you."

He raised a brow. "And you?"

"I don't know. Maybe run a bookstore-café. With bean bags. And a tiny reading nook for kids."

"Sounds peaceful."

She nodded. "I think I'll need peace after all this."

Matthew looked at her then, the lights casting amber across her features.

"Maybe we find it together," he said softly.

Angel met his gaze. For a moment, the sounds around them faded—the music, the chatter, the shuffle of other feet.

"Maybe," she whispered.

They reached the end of the garden path, where a small bench sat beneath a tree wrapped in fairy lights.

Matthew gestured toward it. "Sit?"

She nodded, and they did.

For a while, they said nothing. The silence was full, not empty. The kind that held breath and meaning.

And in that quiet, beneath the glowing canopy, Matthew reached for her hand.

This time, she didn't hesitate.

Angel's fingers curled naturally into his. Warm. Steady. Neither of them spoke, and neither needed to.

A soft breeze brushed past, rustling the nearby hanging plants. Somewhere nearby, a guitar played a mellow instrumental version of "Can't Help Falling in Love." The notes drifted into the garden like they were meant for this moment.

Matthew leaned back on the bench, their hands still linked. "You know," he said quietly, "we've been building cities for everyone else."

Angel turned to him.

"But maybe… someday, we can build one for ourselves. Just one. A quiet one."

"With treehouses and beanbags?" she teased gently.

"And a tunnel or two," he added with a grin.

She chuckled, resting her head briefly on his shoulder. "I wouldn't mind that."

Below, the lights of EDSA shimmered like river currents. Buses and headlights pulsed forward, unaware that two of the people who shaped their daily lives were sitting just overhead—still dreaming, still planning, but finally breathing.

Eventually, Angel straightened, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"We should go. It's getting late."

Matthew nodded. "Yeah. But I'm glad we stayed."

She squeezed his hand one last time before standing. "Me too."

Together, they walked back into the world they'd built—closer now, and finally, quietly whole.