City of Dreams (and Boundaries)

Manila’s energy always hit me the same way: overwhelming, chaotic, alive. There was a time I could handle it like it was nothing. But the last few years had changed me. The city I once moved through like a second skin now felt different—a place I visited, a place I passed through, but never the one I’d call home. And yet, every time I landed here, I couldn’t help but feel like it was giving me a little bit of my old self back.

When I stepped out of the arrivals area, there was Tita Liza, practically beaming as she caught sight of me. “Cassie! Finally!” she called, pulling me into a hug that felt like a small break from the world. She was the kind of person whose optimism could charge up a whole room, and in this case, a whole terminal. I knew what came next—her usual welcome, half-teasing and half-sincere.

“Look at you, dragging enough bags to move in for good,” she said, eyeing my luggage with a grin. “And why aren’t you moving here again?”

I shook my head, laughing. “Manila’s great, Tita, but only when I know I’m leaving in a few days. You know me.”

She rolled her eyes, already laughing. “You and that provincial mindset,” she said, patting my back. “One day, you’ll realize the city’s where you belong.”

The idea made me smile, but I knew my answer would always be the same. Manila was electric, full of possibility, but I’d always been grounded somewhere smaller, somewhere simpler. Tita Liza never truly understood, though she respected it, and that was enough.

Once we were back at her apartment, I unloaded my bags, setting out the food I’d packed on the counter. It was part of my new routine—bringing my own stash instead of risking restaurants. Gone were the days when we’d tour the city’s newest food spots, hopping from hole-in-the-wall cafes to open-air food markets. Now, every bite was a calculated risk, every meal carefully considered.

Tita Liza looked at my bags, my packed food, my spare meds, all of it with the same gentle understanding I’d come to expect from her. “Cassie,” she said, her tone serious but warm, “you’re incredible, you know that? Three years of this, and now you’re out here about to work a full trip, and you’ve got two standing concerts on the itinerary.” She grinned, giving me an approving nod. “As you should.”

I laughed, the words hitting closer to my heart than I’d let on. “What can I say? I missed it. I missed me.”

In truth, it had been three years since I’d done anything like this. When I first got sick, I stopped doing everything that made me feel like myself—no concerts, no traveling, barely any social life. But here I was, in Manila again, trying to reclaim even just a piece of the life I’d had to leave behind. Tita Liza knew what this meant to me, and that meant everything.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, crossing her arms as she watched me unpack, “You’re planning to go to these concerts alone? Standing?”

I nodded, a spark of excitement lighting up inside me. “Yep. Just like old times.”

She raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Well, if anyone can pull it off, it’s you. But don’t you go overdoing it, Cassie.”

I waved off her concern, though I knew she was right to worry. My energy wasn’t what it used to be, but the stubborn part of me had decided I wasn’t going to let that stop me. Not this time. “I’ll be fine, Tita. I know my limits,” I said, a half-truth at best.

She nodded, a look of pride flashing in her eyes. “You know what? You’re doing exactly what you need to be doing—enjoying life again. So go and live a little, Cassie. Take that life back.”

I felt the same way. This trip wasn’t just work; it was a small rebellion, a return to the things that made me feel like me. As I settled in, my mind was already on the days ahead—the meetings, the late nights, and, yes, those two concerts I’d planned to attend on my own.

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