Disclaimer: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.

Even the Tan Holdings building's industrial-grade air conditioning was unable to eliminate the hazy, stifling heat that shrouded the Makati skyline. A consolidated cash flow statement was blurring in Elizien Tan's eyes as she sat at her desk. The Chairman's enormous glass office was deserted to her left. Elizien was left to handle the "Busy Season" by herself when Zayrius left for three days on a crucial logistics run to Batanes.

She had a physical aching from missing him, but lately, a very nagging, grating feeling of vertigo was taking precedence over that agony.

"Ma'am Elizien? Your brother is downstairs," her assistant whispered. "He says he's here to 'liberate' you for dinner."

The Ride to Quezon City

Emman said, "You look like you've been chewed up and spit out by a Boeing 747, Bunso," when he sped through the traffic in his bright red sports vehicle.

"It's just year-end audits, Kuya," Elizien groaned, holding her purse close to her abdomen. "The numbers aren't balancing, and the world won't stop spinning. I've been dizzy since Tuesday. It's probably just high-altitude stress from being married to a pilot."

Emman glanced at her, his typically playful tone lowered by an octave. She cringed at the scent of a neighboring fishball vendor, and he saw that her skin was a little pale. "High-altitude stress? Or maybe you've just got a 'passenger' on board that you haven't declared yet?"

"Shut up, Kuya," she muttered. "Just take me to Ma. I need home cooking."

The Kitchen Chaos: A Mallari Family Special

There was a clamor of domestic bliss in the Mallari home. At the moment, her mother, Aling Cora, was ruling over the stove like a culinary general, and her father, Mang Tomas, was shouting at a referee on TV.

The moment Elizien stepped through the door, the warmth of the house hit her. But then, a secondary wave hit her—the smell.

Aling Cora was preparing Ginisang Ampalaya with a lot of garlic and additional dried fish (tuyo). This was typically Elizien's "last meal on earth" request. It was like a chemical weapon today.

"Elizien! Perfect timing, hija!" said Aling Cora as she waved an oil-drenched spatula. "I made your favorite! Come, smell the tuyo—it's extra pungent just the way you like it!"

Aling Cora practically shoved a plate of the steaming, bitter-salty goodness under Elizien's nose.

The response came right away. Elizien's hand shot to her mouth, her eyes grew wide, and her face took on a translucent mint green hue.

"Ma..." Elizien choked out, backing away as if the ampalaya were a live grenade. "The smell. Why is it so... loud? It smells like... like a wet dog dipped in vinegar."

"Wet dog?!" Aling Cora looked offended, sniffing the air. "Tomas, does my cooking smell like a dog?"

Mang Tomas didn't raise his gaze from the television. "Smells like heaven to me, Cora."

Elizien then made the error of focusing on the bowl of bagoong, or shrimp paste, that was on the table. The room violently flipped around. Elizien let out a tiny, choked gasp and raced for the restroom below.

SLAM!

There was a deep silence after that. Standing motionless, Aling Cora and Mang Tomas gazed at the restroom door. They slowly turned to face one another. They both turned to face Emman.

"Tomas..." Aling Cora whispered, her eyes turning into dinner plates. "Did you see that? She hated the ampalaya."

Mang Tomas straightened his posture and glanced at a calendar hanging on the wall. "And she said the smell was 'loud'. Cora, remember when you were carrying Emman? You tried to throw a slipper at me because I smelled like 'expensive air'."

Suddenly, the "logic" clicked for the Mallari parents like a high-speed calculator.

"AY, DIYOS KO!" Aling Cora shrieked, dropping her spatula with a metallic clatter. "TOMAS! THE DRAGON! THE DRAGON HAS LANDED!"

"Wait, Ma, hold on—" Emman tried to intervene, but it was too late.

Aling Cora started swinging her arms and pacing the kitchen like a crazy woman. "I knew it! Those two! Every time they were on the news, they were holding hands! Zayrius was always looking at her like she was the only plane in the sky! Tomas, we are going to have a grandson who looks like a Chinito model!"

"Or a granddaughter with Elizien's brain!" Mang Tomas added, standing up and accidentally knocking over his beer. "We need to buy a crib! A gold-plated crib! Does the baby need a pilot's license immediately?"

The door to the bathroom squeaked open. Elizien came out, holding a towel, and looked pale. "Ma, Pa, what are you screaming about? I told you, it's just work stress. I've been doing eighty-hour weeks. It's just... an audit-induced migraine."

Aling Cora marched up to her daughter and grabbed her by the shoulders, her eyes sparkling with a terrifying amount of joy. "Hija, listen to me. I have fainted once in front of your husband; I am not afraid to faint again. You are not stressed. You are occupied!"

"I am an auditor, Ma. I am always occupied," Elizien answered, utterly perplexed.

"No, Bunso," Emman chimed in, leaning against the doorframe with a massive smirk. "What Ma is saying is that your 'Busy Season' just got a nine-month extension."

Elizien blinked. She glanced first at her father, who was already searching for "educational toys for future CEOs," then at her own stomach, and finally at her mother's joyful expression.

"No," Elizien whispered, her eyes widening as the math finally, finally added up. "No, no, no. Zayrius is in Batanes. He's... he's in the middle of a typhoon. I can't tell him this over a satellite phone!"

Aling Cora shouted out, "Forget the phone!" and reached for her phone to make a call to her family. "Tomas! Get the special plates! My daughter is carrying the Tan Empire in her belly, and she thinks it's a migraine! ¡Qué barbaridad!"

Elizien sank into a kitchen chair, the scent of the ampalaya no longer bothering her as much as the realization that she had just failed the most important audit of her life: her own.

Elizien muttered to herself, "He's going to freak out," a tiny, frightened, but lovely smile finally emerging. "The Dragon is going to lose his mind."

"Better him than me," Emman laughed. "But seriously, can I have your ampalaya? Since you're 'fatigued' and all?"