My Own Kind of Burnt Toast

Augusts always seem to be hard for me.

It's the month that comes just days after my birthday. A season where you don't really know where to put yourself. You're left wondering whether you're doing just fine or simply not doing enough.

Back then, I was asking myself those very questions.

A few weeks before August, I had already hinted that I wanted a change of scenery at work. Another division within our department had been asking if I could lend them a hand. They'd been inviting me for months, and I finally decided it was time to give it a try. My manager and I agreed that I'd be transferred by the end of August.

That alone made the month stressful enough.

I wanted to squeeze every bit of work I could into the weeks I had left at the project. Truth be told, there was no way anyone could've accomplished everything. So I settled for doing what I could—the best I could.

At the time, Dani and I weren't officially seeing each other. We were simply talking. Getting to know one another. Somewhere along the way, she became more comfortable accepting my little offers of help and guidance at work. Those small moments slowly became something I looked forward to.

Eventually, I reached what I thought would be my final week at the project.

Then came my first last day.

A few of us—including Dani—decided to have a small get-together after work. We bought a few drinks, our main man at the project prepared sliced cucumbers, everyone else brought something to eat, and somehow that was enough to feel like a feast.

Dani wasn't much of a drinker. She got sleepy pretty quickly.

As much as I wanted to keep talking to her and steal a few more moments together, I knew she'd be better off getting some rest. So I helped her settle in and lent her a spare blanket to keep her warm. A part of me wanted to stay there and make sure she was okay, but I let her sleep.

A while later, she woke up and joined us again. We laughed, talked a little more, shared another round of drinks, and before long, she called it a night and went back to her room.

By then, I already knew I wanted to spend more time with her.

The next morning, while I was cleaning up the mess we'd left behind, she came back with a friend to help.

I still don't know why that made me smile as much as it did.

I remember watching her clean up a mess she didn't even make, laughing with her over the simplest things. Looking back, it wasn't really about the cleaning—it was about her choosing to stay a little longer.

By the end of that shift, our friends, Dani and I were already preparing for a not-so-spontaneous trip to Tagaytay.

But I think that's a story for another time.

The weekend came and went, and the following week I reported to the head office to begin my assignment with the new division. By then, Dani and I had been talking almost nonstop. Every conversation made me look forward to the next.

I knew it.

I was falling for her.

She just didn't know it yet.

I had only been at the head office for a few days when my former manager called. The project still needed help during its final stages, so I was asked to extend my stay for another month and a half.

On the outside, I acted disappointed. I joked about how my new chapter would have to wait.

Inside, though, I couldn't stop smiling.

What nobody knew was that I had quietly added a little fuel to that fire myself. I wasn't exactly rushing to leave.

Looking back, I realize I was already beginning a different chapter altogether.

Not with work.

With Dani.

I don't think I've even told her that.

And that's the story of how a delayed workplace transfer ended up becoming one of the greatest blessings I've ever received.

Had everything gone according to plan, I probably still would've met her.

But maybe not in the same way.

Maybe not at the same pace.

Maybe not enough for us to become us.

Funny how the thing I thought was delaying my life was actually putting me exactly where I needed to be.

Maybe this was my own kind of burnt toast.

A transfer that didn't happen when it was supposed to.

An inconvenience that felt frustrating in the moment but quietly rearranged the rest of my year.

Had everything gone according to plan, I might still have met Dani.

But maybe not like this.

Maybe not long enough to know her.

Maybe not long enough for us to become us.