Danielle felt a sense of clarity settle over her. Both banks, both cards—tied to Horizon. She could almost hear Axel's voice explaining everything as she pieced together the puzzle. Executive officer. Corporate expenses. This is real. This is happening.
She glanced at the third card—the international one. That was the one she needed to dig into. Unlike the BPI and BDO cards, this one was issued by Banco Santander, a major bank based in Spain. She flipped it over in her hand, the foreign lettering and global logo making it feel more like a passport than plastic.
Later, she thought. Not now. Not in the middle of the mall.
She and Leo stepped into the cool air of SM Megamall, the towering walls of glass and metal giving way to polished floors and the hum of weekend crowds.
"How do you feel about dumplings?" she asked, nudging Leo as they passed the Fashion Hall.
Leo lit up immediately. "The ones with soup inside?"
Danielle smiled. "Exactly."
She led them straight to Din Tai Fung, the famous Taiwanese dumpling house she'd only eaten at once before—and only because her former boss had footed the bill after a big team win.
Nakakain lang ako dati ng ganito pag nakakaclose ng floor or may top-off, she thought, smirking as the hostess ushered them to a cozy booth near the window. Libre pa ng boss sa Shangri-La dati. 'Di ko ma-afford kung wala 'yun.
Now she was the one holding the card.
Leo grabbed the menu with two hands like a general strategizing a battlefield.
"I want the Xiao Long Bao! And the prawn cake! Can I be the one to tell the ate?"
Danielle raised a brow. "Sure ka? Ang dami mong gusto ah."
Leo nodded, determined. "Special occasion 'to, 'di ba?"
Danielle gave a half-laugh. "Oo na, sige. Go ahead, manager Leo."
Leo—like a little executive-in-training—called the server and confidently placed their order:
Pork Xiao Long Bao
Golden Prawn Cake
Salted Egg Yolk Prawns
Braised Beef Noodle Soup
Steamed Kale with Garlic
Chocolate Lava Xiao Long Bao for dessert
Danielle arched a brow at the dessert but didn't object.
"Chocolate dumplings? Bold choice."
Leo nodded seriously. "We need a sweet ending."
Danielle chuckled just as her phone buzzed. A reminder. Call Banco Santander.
She excused herself briefly and stepped aside near the entrance, away from the buzz of clinking plates and mall chatter. Her fingers hovered for a second, then dialed.
After a few rings, a calm voice answered.
"Banco Santander, buenas tardes."
"Hi—my name is Danielle [Last Name]. I've received a credit card issued by your bank through Horizon Holdings. I wanted to confirm how it's meant to be used—and if there are limitations."
A pause, faint tapping of keys.
"Yes, ma'am. Your card is an international executive card tied to Horizon's corporate operations. It's intended for business-related expenses globally. There are no enforced spending limits, though the company may track usage. Local or personal transactions aren't blocked—but they may be reviewed."
Danielle's brow furrowed slightly. "Any restrictions per region? Or personal dining?"
The manager was careful.
"We defer to Horizon Holdings for their internal policy. Technically, personal use isn't restricted, but repeated non-business activity may attract finance team attention."
"Got it. Thanks for the clarification."
She ended the call and walked back to the booth.
So they're watching. But there's no wall. Just… lines. Invisible ones.
It wasn't a no. It was a test.
And this lunch? It was her first move.
The food began arriving in waves. The pork Xiao Long Bao shimmered with steam as Leo carefully placed each dumpling onto their soup spoons.
"Careful, mainit 'yan," Danielle warned.
"I know, Mama! I blow first before I bite," Leo said, cheeks puffed out before slurping down the broth like a pro.
The golden prawn cake crackled when they bit into it, while the salted egg prawns came drenched in a creamy, rich sauce that made Leo pause mid-chew just to say:
"This is the best thing I've ever tasted."
Danielle, for once, let herself enjoy the moment. No calculators in her head. No mental subtraction. The card was sitting face-up in her wallet like a silent dare.
She asked for the bill.
Swipe.
Approved.
No questions. No red flags. Just a soft beep and a signature line.
"Uy, Mama," Leo whispered, leaning over the table. "Ang sosyal mo na ngayon."
Danielle tried to stifle a grin. "Shh. Huwag kang maingay. Ikaw din eh."
Leo beamed, taking another bite of her chocolate lava dumpling.
Danielle twirled a noodle on her chopsticks and watched her daughter tackle dessert with glee.
Let's see if that transaction makes waves, Mr. Axel. Let's see if this "limitless" executive role really means what you said it does.
In three months, her world had changed more than it had in the last three years. The car. The cards. The salary. The control she was supposed to feel—but only half did.
Now, she had one hand on the wheel.
And she was beginning to test how far it turned.
For now, there was hot soup, a warm booth, and the sound of her daughter's laughter echoing louder than any doubt in her head.
Even in murky waters, some things—like soup dumplings—were crystal clear.
Din Tai Fung's cozy booth had offered comfort. Now, the wide corridors of Megamall sparkled with early holiday décor—silver garlands, oversized baubles, and the first echoes of Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas is You."
Danielle exhaled through her nose. Wala pa ngang December. Nagsimula na sila.
Leo tugged at her hand.
"Mama… may sale 'yung Uniqlo!"
Danielle glanced over, recognizing the familiar clean lines and warm lights of the store. Sure enough, giant red SALE signs were plastered on the windows, and mannequins wore down jackets and fleece-lined coats like it was snowing outside.
She smirked. They don't know we're tropical creatures.
But still. Leo's right. Since they moved into the Horizon apartment, they hadn't really shopped. Everything had been transition: new routines, new rooms, new roles. No time to think of things like jackets, socks, or curtains.
And it was a holiday in Spain—which meant no emails, no Axel, no HR follow-ups. Just this night.
Wala munang trabaho. Tonight, we shop.
"Gusto mo talaga?" she asked.
Leo's eyes were already scanning a mannequin with a fuzzy beige scarf. "Sobra, Mama! Pwede tayo mamili ng pang-lamig. Tapos may earmuffs pa o!"
Danielle chuckled. "Earmuffs agad? Nasa Baguio ba tayo?"
Leo giggled. "Hindi po. Pero malamig sa bahay minsan. Tapos parang… cozy!"
Inside the warmly lit store, rows of neutral-toned basics stretched out like a minimalist's dream. Danielle and Leo stepped into the women's section, already greeted by fleece displays and signs for winter layering.
Leo made a beeline toward the puffy jackets. "Ma, tingnan mo 'to! I look like a marshmallow!"
She spun in a mint green jacket, arms spread wide, giggling.
Danielle laughed. "You do. Alright, marshmallow queen. Let's find your size."
As Leo explored, Danielle wandered quietly to the women's basics. She reached out for a few tank tops in muted colors—olive, black, and beige. Small sizes.
I used to wear XLs, not because it's my size but because large shirts didn't offer the space I needed. She tugged at the collar of her current tee. Everything now hangs like a curtain. Maybe I didn't notice it, but… I've been shrinking.
Stress. Long hours. That Horizon lifestyle—measured, exhausting, unrelenting—had slowly reshaped her. Her body felt different. Lighter. Stronger, even if tired. Her hair had grown longer too, the waves a little less wild. And now she had to run after Leo inside the house—a luxury we didn't even have before, she thought. Back in their one-bedroom apartment in the city, there was barely room to stretch. Now Leo could bolt through the hall laughing, and Danielle would follow, not out of frustration, but joy.
She held up a simple ribbed top against herself in the mirror. This would've looked ridiculous on me last year. It hugged just enough, not tight, not loose. Now? It fits. She grabbed it in three dark colors. Who is she? Hahaha. Bet, sis. Bet.
Then came the smart ankle-length slacks, tailored button-downs, and structured cardigans—the kind that layered well without screaming she was trying too hard. She caught herself picking a few of the same pieces she used to wear as a site engineer on construction sites: dark, muted, efficient. But this time, she paired them with softer silhouettes. Neutral knits. Stretchy blazers. Things that spoke more of comfort than hustle.
At one corner rack, her hand brushed over a cream-colored blouse. Silky. Gentle to the touch. A bit pricey—for Uniqlo, anyway. She paused.
You've earned nice things, Dan. Not just for Leo. Not just for work. For you.
She added it to the cart.
"Ma!" Leo skidded into view holding a fleece blanket and two sets of kid-sized thermals. "It's so soft. Can I get one? Yung color na parang egg."
"Sure, anak. Get the lilac one too, para match sa jacket mo."
Leo grinned and ran off again. They loaded up the cart—a full wardrobe for Leo, and for Danielle, the beginning of a wardrobe that actually fit.
As they moved to the checkout, Danielle glanced at her reflection one last time. Slimmer arms. Sharper jaws that accentuated her heart-shaped face. But those chubby cheeks are still there—just how I like it.
She didn't look like the woman who once lived off fast food dinners between overtime shifts on site anymore. She didn't look like someone who held her breath every time she swiped a debit card.
I look… stable. She smoothed down the cream blouse, checking its reflection from the side. Like someone with choices.
She took a breath. And for once, it wasn't about survival—it was about self. Not just the provider. Not just the fighter. Danielle, the woman.
I look… stable. Like someone with choices.
Danielle grabbed two thermal tops and one set of dry-fit joggers for herself, eyeing a black windbreaker on the rack thinking of giving Leo a trip to Japan. Useful. If I start running again.
The cashier scanned the items as Danielle pulled out the BPI Horizon card. No hesitation this time.
Tap. Approved.
No alarms. No calls. No Caden asking why I need four new blouses.
Maybe I can live a little. Maybe I deserve to.
They walked out with bags in hand—Leo bouncing beside her, excited for what came next.
They crossed over to Nike, where Leo dashed straight to the kids' section and picked up a white pair of Air Max 270s with a pink swoosh.
"Ito na 'to, Ma. Tignan mo, ang lambot sa loob!"
Danielle crouched beside her. "Tingnan natin kung may size mo—"
On her way to the women's wall, Danielle's eyes landed on the white-and-grey Air Jordan 1 Lows—the same pair she always glanced at and walked past.
What the hell. Let's see if the cards start screaming.
She picked them up, tried them on, and nodded to herself. They joined the pile, along with a pair of neutral running shoes, a sports bra, and two dri-fit tops.
They detoured to H&M for dresses, jeans, kid's slacks, and a sparkly lilac hoodie with ears on the hood. Danielle got herself two button-down shirts, a navy midi skirt, and a pair of beige business slacks.
"Ma, ang ganda nito! May glitter!" Leo said, holding up a gold star hair clip set.
"Gusto mo? Kunin mo na."
And why not? Bakit ngayon lang kami nakakapamili nang ganito?
The mall was buzzing now. Warm lights glowed across every level, faint holiday songs playing from overhead speakers.
And then—Leo froze.
"Ma, look! Music store!"
Her tiny feet pivoted fast, dragging Danielle toward the bright glass windows of a Yamaha outlet. Inside, the polished instruments gleamed under white lights—rows of guitars, violins, keyboards. Leo's face was already pressed to the glass.
"Can I just try, please lang," she pleaded, tugging at Danielle's hand.
Danielle gave a helpless smile. Of course. How can I say no to that face?
Inside, Leo made a beeline for a small organ by the window display. Her fingers hovered above the keys, then pressed down hesitantly. One note, then another.
"Ma, it sounds like the music in church. Pwede po ito?"
Danielle knelt beside her. I used to dream about lessons for her, she thought. Back when I didn't even know if we could afford next week's groceries. She nodded.
"Pick a small guitar din, anak. Something light. Para match sila."
Leo practically skipped toward the display wall. A shop assistant handed her a kid-sized classical guitar. It fit her perfectly. She tried plucking the nylon strings, face serious, lips pressed together in focus.
Danielle paid for both, her hand steady as she swiped the Horizon card. Let's see how far this silence goes, Axel.
Next stop was the department store. Not for them—but for her parents. She hadn't seen them in weeks, but December was approaching fast. Back then, gifts meant small boxes or secondhand things. This time, she pushed a cart down the aisles with purpose.
A pair of black leather shoes for her dad—he always liked a shine. Two cotton polos. A lined jacket for the rainy season. Then for her mom—soft cardigans, floral blouses, and a practical handbag. Not the dainty kind, but one with sturdy zippers, the way she liked them.
Leo picked out a pair of slippers. "Para kay Lola. 'Yung malambot, like the ones we tried in the hotel."
Danielle smiled at her daughter. You remember everything, don't you?
When they finally emerged from the department store, Leo slumped against the cart full of bags, munching on a brownie sample they'd grabbed from a pop-up stall.
Danielle unlocked the truck and began loading everything in the back. Bag after bag. Shoes, clothes, thermals, instruments. This was a different kind of exhaustion. A better one. The kind that didn't leave you gasping, but fulfilled.
She slammed the trunk shut and leaned against it, stretching her back. Then—
Ping.
A notification lit up her company phone.
Enjoy. —Axel
Danielle stared at the screen. No emoji. No follow-up.
Just that.
Did he know? Is he watching the transactions? Was this sarcasm… or approval?
She didn't answer. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and turned to Leo, who was now climbing into her car seat, still humming the tune she had played on the organ.
Danielle climbed in after her, turned the key, and smiled faintly.
Enjoy, huh? Don't mind if we do.