The alarm rang at four A.M.
Cruz lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling of his one-room apartment as the sound filled the silence. The curtains barely held back the light of early morning. Somewhere outside, Jeepneys blared their horns. Somewhere above him, people argued in muffled voices. Somewhere nearby, the whine of power tools cut through the air, louder than even his alarm.
With a tired sigh he swung his legs over the side of the bed anyway.
Routine came easier than motivation.
The kitchenette was barely wide enough for one person. A canister stove. A chipped mug. A plate that doubled as a cutting board. He cracked an egg, stirred it with a fork, and tried not to think about the slowly emptying cabinets
His phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen.
Jarred.
He exhaled once through his nose, then answered.
"Solomon! H-hey, uh… can you cover for me today? It's my son, he-"
"Had another episode?" Caleb said gently.
There was a pause on the other end. Then relief. "Yeah. I-sorry, I know it's sudden-"
"It's fine," Cruz said, voice calm, warm. Automatic. "But you owe me lunch this time. We're going to get slaughtered in admissions today."
A weak laugh. "Deal. Seriously, man… thank you. Safe travels."
"Take care of him," Cruz replied. "That's more important."
He ended the call.
For a second, his reflection stared back at him in the dark window above the sink. The faintest curve of a smile still lingered on his lips. His eyes looked… softer than they felt.
Understanding. Reliable. Solomon.
The pan hissed. The egg browned. The moment passed.
Breakfast eaten. Dishes rinsed. Ten minutes of stretches beside the bed, his whole body's been aching again. Another day of work.
The shower ran lukewarm. The building's pipes complained.
His phone buzzed again on the basin counter.
He reached out, picked it up, and answered without checking the caller ID.
A child's voice exploded through the speaker. "UNCLE CALEB! ARE YOU COMING TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY LATER?! MAMA SAID THERE'S GONNA BE ICE CREAM!"
Cruz blinked. Then his mouth moved before he even thought about it.
"Oh?" His voice was lighter now, playful, filled with mock confusion. "That was today? Tsk tsk tsk…I might not make it. Oh well~ I guess I'll just give this biiig~ present to someone else."
"B-BUT YOU PROMISED LAST TIME!"
He laughed quietly, real this time. "I said I'd think about it, but don't worry~ I'll be there."
They talked for a few minutes. About the party. About cake. About how her dog had learned a new trick. He made dramatic sounds of amazement.
She giggled.
When the call ended, the bathroom felt quieter than before.
He looked up.
The mirror showed him exactly as he was. Dark circles under his eyes. Damp hair, black with white strands sprinkled through. Eyes hollow. Tired
He blinked.
For half a second, he thought the expression hadn't changed but something felt off. Too still. Too controlled.
'How long?'
The thought arrived fully formed, uninvited.
He stared harder.
'How long are you going to keep this up'
His fingers tightened around the edge of the sink.
The reflection still wore his face. Still held his posture. Still mirrored every movement. And yet
'Dependable Solomon with colleagues. Cheerfull Caleb with family. Always the version they need.'
His jaw clenched.
The words didn't feel spoken. They felt 'known'.
'What happens if you stop performing?'
His head swam, light and drowsy. The noise of the apartment receded, replaced by a low, static hiss that filled his mind.
"They'll notice," the thought continued quietly. "They'll judge. They'll leave you just like-".
Before the momeries flood his mind he closed his eyes. He exhaled and inhaled slowly through his nose. In. Out. Like he'd been taught. After a few moments he opened his eyes again.
He dressed in silence. Maroon shirt and slacks. Wornout black shoes, a white over coat. And lastly, an ID lanyard, with familiar writing: Caleb, De la Cruz Solomon. (Deputy Head Nurse). A familiar uniform for a familiar role.
The drawer beneath the sink slid open. Inside. a toothbrush, a pack of bandages, cheap painkillers, and a small amber bottle with a pharmacy label half-worn from use. He checked the time on his phone.
5:17.
Almost time.
Four pills a day, once every 6 hours.
Not miracles. Just…stabilizers. Enough to keep his thoughts from wandering.
He capped the bottle again and slipped it into the pocket of his uniform as left the bathroom.
As he nears the front door, he hesitates.
He stilled and took a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders, and stepped out into the hallway.
Solomon stepped into the clinic. Disinfectant stung his nose, sharp and clean. He took a left and tapped his card into the punch clock. The familiar beep echoed softly, and he exhaled, letting the start of another shift settle over him.
He entered the staff room. His white coat with red accents set him apart in the room. A familiar voice caught his attention. Glancing to the side, he saw two figures seated across the table, Daniel and Alexis.
Daniel was short and tense, glasses askew, shoulders tight as he talked enthusiastically about something.
"Oh, have you heard? Wuthering Waves Version 10 drops tonight!"
Alexis sat in front of him, taller, half-asleep, hands clasped around a sandwich. as she blankly listens to him drone about.
Both had black hair and brown eyes. At first glance, unremarkable. Their blue shirts and slacks marked them clearly as trainees.
Alexis yawned, fighting the urge to stay awake. She blinked at Daniel and said, "Yeah, I've been grinding for Astrites. I nearly lost track of time and—"
It took her a moment to recognize him approaching from behind Daniel.
Daniel froze for a second, then looked behind him and spotted Solomon. He stammered, quickly straightening.
"Deputy Solomon! E-uh, the head nurse… she's been looking for you. Said to head to her office."
Solomon gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. "Relax. You've been here a week, stop fidgeting like I'm going to eat you. You're both doing great. A few more days of training and the workload will be lighter."
Both nodded, visibly relaxing. Solomon left the staff room and walked down the hall to Catherine's office. He knocked lightly, then stepped inside.
There, behind her desk, sat a woman. Similar to him, black hair, black eyes, exhaustion etched deep into her features. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her gaze hollowed from paperwork. Her face was placid, almost corpse-like, but the weight of the day pressed down in the slump of her shoulders as she taps her fingers on the clipboard.
"I told Jarred to take it easy today. ward's been light this month," she said, voice brisk but edged with fatigue. Then, softer: "But since you and Jarred are the only ones who can handle the geriatric patients, I'm adding a bit to your workload. Don't worry. I'll tack it onto your pay."
Solomon chuckled. "I know. He called me earlier. Oh, and I won't be taking over time today. Tell Jarred I sent my regards, I know for a fact that mans is gonna be working late for extra pay."
Catherine looked at him. Opening her mouth she hesitated, before asking him a question.
"Are you free tomorrow? There's this new restaurant opening down the street. I was wondering if you could come with m- with us...Ehem, the whole nursing department's going. Wanna join?"
Solomon froze, trying to ignore that correction as he looked at her. He wasn't dense. they'd been colleagues for five years. He'd need to be blind not see her interest in him. Part of him wanted to say yes. Another part tensed, a quick pang rising in his chest. Memories flickered, Beatrice. Her laugh, her warmth, and the sting of betrayal. I'll be used again.
He shook off the thought. 'They're not the same'. He though. But the fear still lingered in his mind. Irrational and firm.
An awkward silence filled the room. Catherine shifted, eyes flicking to the clipboard as if to hide the moment.
"Ah… sorry about that," he said finally, voice steady, chest tight but controlled. "Lately my mind tends to space out. Apologies in advance, I can't attend tomorrow… I intend to use that time to rest. My mind can't keep up with the extra working hours."
Catherine's expression softened. She didn't push.
The day in the clinic went by as a blur in Solomon's eyes.
Greetings exchanged in passing. A hand on Daniel's shoulder as he corrected his grip on the BP cuff. A quiet nod to Alexis as she fumbled through charting.
Elderly patients, one after another. Checking vitals. Adjusting oxygen lines. Replacing catheters with steady hands. Changing Diapers. Redressing wounds that smelled faintly of antiseptic and decay. Speaking gently to those who no longer recognized where they were.
"Sir please calm down! You're safe, Just breathe."
A confused old man tried to pull out his IV. A woman cried for a son who hadn't visited in years. Solomon did his best, he confirmed, consoled, and assisted the patients in the ward.
Clipboard in hand. Charts reviewed. Symptoms noted. Concerns flagged for the doctors.
By noon, he found himself back in the head nurse's office. Paperwork stacked high. Endorsements. Staffing notes. Incident forms. He gave Catherine a nod in passing as he filled out the papers methodically, one after another, while the clinic hummed outside the door.
Time flowed freely and without him noticing. The corridors grew quieter.
He checked his phone.
"1:58", he muttered as he stretched and got ready to clock out.
• • •
Caleb stepped out of the Tri-cycle and looked up.
A modest house stood before him. Two stories of cinder blocks and patched paint, built by hand decades ago. His grandfather's hands, alongside the wooden fence which leaned slightly with age. the front yard stretched wide. Too wide for a normal lawn. It used to be a pig pen, years ago, before they cleared it out. Now it was just open space the family uses for gatherings and celebrations.
Children ran across the grass, laughter sharp in the evening air.
One of them noticed him.
She froze. Then shouted.
"UNCLE CALEB!"
Small feet pounded against the dirt as Pia came charging toward him, grin wide, eyes bright. She crashed into him without slowing.
"You're late!" she accused, looking up at him. "The party's almost over!"
Caleb gasped dramatically, hand to chest. "Ah. I have committed a grave crime. The highest offense an uncle can make."
She blinked at him, confused.
He crouched slightly and held out a small, neatly wrapped gift. "Please accept this humble offering in exchange for my forgiveness."
Her face lit up.
"YAY!"
She snatched the present and bolted back toward the house, screaming something unintelligible about ribbons and pink.
Caleb straightened slowly, watching her go.
He sighed.
"…Not even a hug for dear ol' Uncle Caleb, huh?"
The his mind was elsewhere as he walked towards the porch, tired from the long ride home. His body ached in places he tried not to think about.
'A four hour commute, sitting on hard foam seats, being crushed between two strangers while someone's elbow digs on my ribs throught the whole ride.'
"Huuuagh…" he muttered. "All of that for a plate of moms cooking?... Heh~ Worth it." a smirk tugged at his lips.
As he nears the front door a knocking sound against the wood snapped him out of it.
He looked up.
His older brother stood there, grinning as he leaned on the doorframe. Beside him, their mother stood harms open.
Caleb felt a familiar warmth spread through his body as his mother wrapped him in a tight hug. He hugged her back.
"You made it," his brother said.
Caleb laughed softly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm here."
He let them pull him inside.
The house was still alive with noise, though quieter now. Most of the kids were gone. A few cousins lingered. The adults had migrated to the back, bottles and plastic cups scattered across the table. The kind of party that slowly dissolved rather than ending cleanly.
Caleb moved easily among them. The after party went as you'd expect along side family. People joked, and teased. Stories repeated for the hundredth time as drunk men reminisce and complain about they're lives. We drank. We laughed. And for a while, all his worries just ceased to exist.
Eventually, people began to leave. Chairs scraped. Plastic cups were gathered. Lights were turned off one by one.
Caleb stood, stretching slightly. Ready to help with the after party clean up, but befor he could start he saw his mother of to the side waving him to come to her.
"Caleb," his mother called softly.
He paused.
She stood near a pathway at the side of the house, her expression gentler now that the crowd was gone. Tired. Worried.
He hesitated, then walked over.
Up close, her worry was obvious.
She looked tired too. Older than she should have looked. But her eyes, those eyes still saw everything.
"You look exhausted," she said quietly. "Even when you smile."
Caleb opened his mouth. Closed it again.
She sighed. "… I'm sorry."
He frowned. "For what?"
"For not being able to support you the way you support us," she said softly. "For relying on the money you send. For making you work so hard."
"Mo-"
She lifted a hand. "Let me finish."
Her voice trembled now.
"Tomorrow's your day off, right?" she asked. "Go home. Rest. We'll handle things here."
Her hands gripped his sleeves.
"You're co-workers... they're not making you work overtime are they? you should stop saying yes to every request your coworkers ask of you. Stop trying to please everyone. You're running yourself into the ground."
Her voice cracked. Just slightly.
"It's okay to be disliked," she whispered. "Not everyone needs to adore you."
Then she hugged him.
Tight. Protective. Like she used to when he was small.
"You're being wrung dry," she murmured. "What if they—"
"Mom," he interrupted gently.
She pulled back just enough to look at him.
"I know," he said. "They're not like that."
A pause.
"Jarred's pushy, sure. But his son's in the ICU. Different hospital. He's barely holding it together. Both Alexis and Daniel are new, uncertain, clueless. But they'll get there. And Catherine…" he huffed softly. "…well. She's Catherine. I have no idea what's going on in her head half the time."
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"But it's not malicious, Plus for a head nurse, she keeps us fed. We're practically the most spoiled bunch in the clinic."
He looked past her, toward the messy, half-cleaned house. Toward the echoes of laughter still hanging in the air.
"Seeing all of you like this," he said quietly, "smiling… that's enough for me."
He met her eyes again. "I'll take tomorrow off. I promise."
A small lie.
She crossed her arms. "Oh? And what does 'rest' look like to you?"
He grinned. "Video games! The natural habitat of overworked men."
She sighed and hugged him again. softer, lingering.
"You don't have to keep carrying us," she whispered. "Your brother's condition is already stable. He'll go back work tommorow. All I and your father ever wanted… was for you to be happy."