I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World-Chapter 192: Date Part 4
March 30, 2024 — 12:05 AM
Katipunan, Quezon City
The drive back was slow, but neither of them minded.
Matthew kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting lightly on the center console. Angel leaned against the window, legs curled under her, the faint city lights reflecting softly across her face. Jazz still played from the car speakers—subtle, quiet, like the final notes of a long day exhaling.
Outside, Quezon City pulsed on, but inside the vehicle, it felt like the rest of the world had hit pause.
"Turn right at the next," Angel murmured. "Blue gate with the ceramic tile number plate. That's me."
Matthew slowed as instructed, pulling gently into the narrow street. Her townhouse stood in a quiet row of well-kept homes, modest and tidy, tucked just off the main road.
When the engine cut, a gentle stillness settled in the air.
"Thanks for tonight," Angel said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
He smiled. "I should be the one saying that."
She opened the door, stepped out, then paused at the passenger side window. "Wanna come in? Just to rest. You've been up since five."
Matthew hesitated. "I'll be fine. I've done worse hours."
She raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't a question, Borja. Come on. You're half-asleep already."
"…Are you sure?"
Angel rolled her eyes. "You're the only man I know who can build a rail system across islands but freezes at an offer for coffee and a couch."
He chuckled. "Fair point."
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.
—
12:20 AM — Angel's Townhouse
The inside was warm, a little cluttered, filled with personal traces—soft blankets, books stacked in uneven piles, half-finished sketchpads on the table. A kettle on the stove, humming softly.
Angel tossed her keys into a bowl by the door and kicked off her flats. "You want tea or water?"
"Water's fine," Matthew replied, slipping off his shoes.
She returned with two glasses and handed him one. "You can crash on the couch. I'll grab you a pillow."
Matthew sat down, letting out a quiet sigh as he leaned back. "This couch should be declared a national treasure."
Angel laughed from the hallway. "You haven't even laid down yet."
When she returned, she paused. "You can use the shower if you want. I'll lend you something."
"I'll be okay," he said. "I should go soon anyway."
She stared at him a beat longer. "Or you could stop pretending you don't need rest."
Before he could reply, she turned and disappeared into her bedroom.
Matthew sat in silence for a while, sipping his water, the city hum now far away.
He barely noticed when Angel returned, wrapped in a long shirt that reached mid-thigh, hair tied up messily. She looked soft, relaxed—disarmed in a way few ever saw her.
She placed a folded blanket beside him. "You're too tall for this couch."
"I've slept on worse," he said again.
Angel tilted her head, then took a few slow steps forward. "Matt…"
He looked up.
"…Stay," she said simply.
His hesitation lasted only a moment.
—
1:45 AM — Angel's Bedroom
The lights were off now.
Only the faint glow of a streetlamp filtered through the blinds. The air between them was quiet, charged with something unspoken, something understood. Angel lay beside him under the soft quilt, facing away but close—her breathing even, calm.
Matthew blinked slowly at the ceiling, fully awake but not restless. Just aware. The shape of her shoulder under the blanket. The rise and fall of her breath.
He didn't move.
Didn't need to.
It wasn't the kind of silence that demanded explanation. Just the kind that said you're safe here.
Eventually, his eyes drifted shut.
—
8:00 AM — Angel's Bedroom
Sunlight crept through the slats in the blinds, painting soft golden lines across the sheets. The room smelled faintly of lavender and fresh laundry.
Matthew stirred slowly, the weight of the quilt warm and grounding.
Then he registered it.
A shift of breath beside him. Bare skin, warm against his side. The slow, steady rhythm of sleep beside him.
He turned his head slightly.
Angel lay there, still asleep, the blanket drawn just high enough to cover her chest. Her shoulders were bare. One arm curled softly beneath her cheek. Her hair fanned loosely across the pillow.
He didn't move.
Didn't need to.
He just watched her for a moment, everything in his mind still and quiet. No meetings. No drills. No speeches. Just her. Just this.
His hand found hers under the covers, and she stirred gently but didn't wake—just turned a little closer, brow softening.
And in that sliver of morning light, Matthew knew.
This—whatever it was—was no longer a pause from their world.
It was their world now.
And for the first time in a long time, he wasn't afraid of what came next.
He lay back again, drawing in a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The morning sounds outside were faint—just the distant hum of a tricycle passing by, the bark of a dog, the soft stirrings of a waking neighborhood. But in here, it felt like time had slowed to match the rhythm of her breathing.
Angel shifted slightly, brow creasing as if halfway between sleep and waking. Then her eyes fluttered open—still fogged with sleep, but aware. She blinked once, twice, then turned her head just enough to meet his gaze.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then she offered a small, sleepy smile. "Hey."
"Hey," Matthew whispered back.
She nestled in a little closer, resting her forehead gently against his shoulder. "You stayed."
"I did."
"Good." A pause. "You warm enough?"
He chuckled softly. "I'm fine."
She tilted her chin slightly, eyes half-lidded, teasing. "You better not be overthinking everything already."
"I'm not," he said honestly. "Just… appreciating the quiet."
Angel exhaled, the sound soft against his skin. "Let's stay in it, just a little longer."
He nodded. "Yeah. Just a little longer."
And there, wrapped in quiet sunlight and each other's presence, they remained—no titles, no roles, no deadlines. Just two people, finally learning to stop running.
