NOVEL NEXT Chapter 217: Trimester Two
February 20, 2025 — 7:00 AMRockwell, Their Apartment — Kitchen
The kitchen smelled like toasted pandesal and fried eggs. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, catching motes of flour dust on the counter where Angel was carefully buttering a slice of bread. She was still in one of Matthew's oversized shirts—comfort took priority now, especially on mornings like this.
The second trimester had brought a subtle but definite shift. Her energy was back. The nausea had finally let up. She wasn't hiding her pregnancy anymore, and her bump—small but visible—was now part of her silhouette.
Matthew stepped out of the bedroom, hair damp from the shower, t-shirt wrinkled, and eyes still half-shut. He froze mid-step when he saw her.
"You're glowing," he said, voice groggy but sincere.
"I'm buttering toast."
"Same thing."
She smiled and slid a plate toward him.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek before settling into the stool across the counter. "You sleep okay?"
"Better," she said. "No more weird dreams about bridges collapsing or babies being delivered on train platforms."
Matthew laughed. "You've officially been watching too much infrastructure documentary content."
Angel nodded at his plate. "Eat. We have back-to-back meetings today."
He took a bite and chewed slowly. "Have you thought about when you want to take your leave?"
Angel nodded. "If everything stays stable, I want to stay active until July. Maybe early August. Gives me time to wrap up the Laguna site plans and finalize the midyear expansion projections."
Matthew nodded slowly. "We'll make sure everything is in place before then."
"And the baby room?" she asked, tilting her head.
"I've got the contractor starting on Friday. Dust shields are ready, and we're putting in soundproofing. I figured…" he paused, smiling sheepishly, "you'd appreciate decibel reduction even during nap time."
She blinked. "I love you."
"I know."
They clinked mugs.
—
February 24, 2025 — 10:30 AMSentinel HQ — Nursery Design Site
The old utility room on the upper executive floor had been cleared out a week ago. Now, a small design team from Facilities was turning it into Sentinel HQ's unofficial nursery space—soft lighting, a couch for Angel when she needed a break, and a small corner that would eventually have a bassinet, just in case the baby needed to come with her during quiet days post-leave.
Angel stood at the doorway, arms crossed, watching the work with critical eyes.
"Be honest," said Trixie from Facilities, holding up two swatches of wallpaper. "Clouds or constellations?"
Angel squinted.
"Constellations," she said. "But muted. Nothing too distracting."
Trixie grinned. "So functional elegance?"
"Always."
They laughed.
The sound drew the attention of several employees walking by. A few paused, smiling softly at the sight of their boss—once the paragon of calculated control—discussing nursery colors.
But it wasn't awkward.
It was humanizing.
And the company felt it.
—
February 26, 2025 — 2:45 PMSentinel HQ — Executive Conference Room
The Aurora Line Phase 3 milestone report was in full swing. Angel sat at the head of the table, hands folded over her rounded belly. She didn't mention it. Didn't draw attention. But nobody missed it either.
She was glowing, but not in the cliché way. There was a fire behind her eyes again, a clarity in her voice, and a calm command that held the room steady.
"Track laying in Cavite is ahead of schedule," she said, flipping the slide. "We're greenlit on permitting, and the environmental impact study is clear. That means we shift forward the Pasay terminus build by three weeks."
A young analyst raised a hand. "Ma'am, does that affect your travel to the Laguna site next month?"
"It does," she said, nodding. "I'll be supervising remotely via PulseCam. Phillip from engineering ops will be onsite. My health—and the baby's—takes priority."
There was no tension.
Just acceptance.
Because the entire team already understood: this baby wasn't a detour.
It was part of the blueprint now.
—
March 5, 2025 — 8:00 PMRockwell — Nursery Room
Angel stood barefoot on the wooden floor, staring at the freshly painted walls.
Soft sage green.
She ran her hand over the edge of the new crib—oakwood, with railings carved in smooth arcs. Matthew had installed it that morning, muttering over instructions and refusing to accept help. He'd stood back proudly when it was done, arms crossed, as if he had just built a train station.
She smiled now, remembering.
He stepped into the room, arms wrapped around her from behind.
"You approve?"
"I love it," she said quietly.
He rested his chin on her shoulder, looking out across the room with her.
A few small toys sat in the corner—still wrapped.
One of the shelves held books already, including the picture book about bridges they had bought back in December.
"I've been thinking," he said softly.
"Hmm?"
"We should write a letter."
"To the baby?"
He nodded. "A first one. Before the world gets too noisy."
Angel turned in his arms to face him.
"Let's do it."
They sat on the floor, backs to the wall, a notepad between them.
And they wrote:
Dear You,
We haven't met you yet. But we already love you. We built this home, this world, piece by piece, and now we get to build one more thing—
A life with you in it.
—
March 8, 2025 — 3:00 PMSentinel HQ — Media Wing
The Sentinel Stories video series had become a regular part of the company's public engagement campaign. Short, documentary-style videos showcasing not just tech and timelines, but the people behind the nation's railway transformation.
Angel had never agreed to be featured.
Until now.
She stood under soft lights, makeup light, outfit simple—white blouse, dark slacks, and her bump subtly outlined beneath her blouse.
The director nodded. "Ready when you are, Ma'am."
Angel looked straight into the lens.
"My name is Angel. I'm the co-founder and current CEO of Sentinel Infrastructure Group. I'm also…" she smiled slightly, "currently expecting my first child."
She paused.
"Some people thought I'd step away. Some assumed I'd vanish. But I'm still here—because motherhood isn't the end of ambition. It's part of it."
The crew behind the camera was silent.
Moved.
Angel continued.
"Just like a train needs tracks, a child needs a path. And the best way I know how to pave one—is to keep building forward."
—
March 10, 2025 — 11:45 PMRockwell — Bedroom
The city outside was quiet.
Matthew lay awake beside her, hand resting over her belly, feeling tiny movements beneath the skin.
"She kicked," he whispered.
Angel smiled sleepily. "She did."
They lay like that for a while—no words, no rush.
Just hands.
And heartbeats.
And a future already arriving, one quiet movement at a time.