Threads of Starlight

Aster Calla Dela Cruz had always believed in the language of the earth.
The way the soil shifted beneath her hands, the way the wind whispered through the fields. It all told a story. A story of patience, of cycles, of waiting for things to grow.

But today, something felt… off.

She stood at the edge of her farm, the morning sun spilling golden light over the fields. Her boots pressed into the damp earth as she adjusted her gloves, heart beating in a rhythm she didn’t quite recognize. There was no reason for it. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing she could name.

And yet, deep in her chest, there was a pull.

Like the moment before a storm.
Like something was about to change.

Then, the sound of tires crunching against gravel.

Aster exhaled sharply, shaking off the strange feeling as a sleek black car pulled up near the wooden fence. The contrast was almost laughable—the polished vehicle against the raw, untamed expanse of her farm.

The car door opened, and Selene Aurelia Valdez stepped out.

She was the kind of woman who looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine—sharp, poised, untouchable. Her black trousers and ivory blouse were too pristine for a place like this, but she carried herself like she belonged anywhere she chose to be. A gust of wind sent her dark waves cascading over her shoulder as she took off her sunglasses, her gaze scanning the horizon before landing on Aster.

The moment their eyes met, the world shifted.

It was subtle, just a flicker, like déjà vu, like a dream half-remembered. Aster’s breath hitched, and for a second, she swore she knew this woman. Not just in passing, not from a magazine, but something deeper, something older.

Selene felt it, too.

A brief pause. A second too long.

Then, like flipping a switch, she smoothed over the hesitation and extended her hand.
"Ms. Dela Cruz, I’m Selene Valdez. I believe we have a meeting."

Aster didn’t move right away. There was something in Selene’s voice, something that felt like a memory she couldn’t quite place. Eventually, she pulled off her glove and took Selene’s hand.

The touch sent a jolt through her veins.

Warm. Familiar. A connection that shouldn’t be there.

"Yeah," Aster finally said, her voice quieter than usual. "Call me Aster."

Neither of them let go right away.

Neither of them understood why.

But fate had always been patient.

And the stars had begun to realign.

The scent of damp earth and fresh leaves filled the air as Aster led Selene deeper into the farm. The fields stretched out around them, golden under the mid-morning sun. Aster kept her hands in her pockets, walking with slow, measured steps, while Selene followed, her heels sinking slightly into the dirt.

She glanced down, mildly irritated. Wrong shoes for this.

"Didn’t think to wear boots?" Aster asked, not even trying to hide her smirk.

Selene lifted her chin. "I wasn’t expecting a tour. Just a business meeting."

"Right. Guess I should’ve set up a conference room between the rice paddies."

Selene narrowed her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. Aster noticed the way she was composed, refined, but not fragile. Selene wasn’t uncomfortable, just… out of place. Like she was used to standing on different kinds of ground.

Aster slowed her pace, glancing at her. "You’re the first client to come here personally. Most people send their people."

Selene slid her sunglasses back over her eyes, as if that would mask the curiosity lingering in them. "I prefer to see things myself."

Aster hummed, a sound neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

They walked in silence for a few moments. The wind rustled through the crops, carrying the soft murmurs of the land. Aster had always liked this quiet, but with Selene beside her, it felt… charged.

Like there was something just beneath the surface.

Selene stopped near a row of plants, running her fingers along the leaves. The movement was absentminded, but Aster caught it. That soft touch, like instinct. As if Selene had done this before.

"Do you garden?" Aster asked.

Selene blinked, pulling her hand back. "No. I’ve never had the time."

A beat.

Then, softer—almost to herself: "But it doesn’t feel unfamiliar."

Aster stared at her, something catching in her chest.

She shouldn’t read too much into it. And yet—

Before she could say anything, Selene straightened, clearing her throat. "Anyway, let’s talk business. Your farm produces sustainable fibers, correct?"

Just like that, the moment passed.

Aster exhaled, nodding. "Yeah. Our fabric comes from natural sources—abaca, piña, cotton. No harmful dyes, no chemical processing. Your team wants high-quality, locally sourced materials, right?"

Selene nodded. "Yes. We’re moving towards sustainable luxury. Ethical, but still elegant."

Aster raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a contradiction."

Selene smirked. "That’s branding."

Aster chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. "Fair enough. So, what exactly are you looking for?"

Selene glanced around the farm, taking in the landscape. "A reliable supplier. A partner who understands quality and sustainability, not just as a selling point but as a practice."

"You mean someone who won’t just slap an 'eco-friendly' sticker on things?" Aster asked dryly.

"Exactly," Selene said. "I’ve worked with suppliers who cut corners claiming organic materials but using synthetic blends to lower costs. I need authenticity."

Aster nodded, pleased. "That’s what we do here. We grow and process everything ourselves. No middlemen, no mass production. Every fiber is handwoven, dyed with natural pigments. We can guarantee traceability from soil to fabric."

Selene folded her arms, considering. "And production capacity? Can you handle bulk orders?"

Aster tilted her head. "Depends. How much are we talking?"

"My brand is launching an exclusive sustainable line," Selene explained. "Limited pieces, but high-end. I don’t need mass production, but I do need consistency. No delays, no quality dips."

Aster smirked. "So, you want handmade perfection, on a schedule?"

Selene lifted an eyebrow. "You think that’s unreasonable?"

Aster shrugged. "Not impossible. But nature isn’t a factory. Fibers grow at their own pace, and handcrafted means variations."

Selene’s lips curved slightly. "That’s what makes it valuable, doesn’t it?"

Aster studied her for a moment. She liked that answer.

"You’re serious about this," Aster said. It wasn’t a question.

Selene met her gaze. "I don’t do things halfway."

The weight of those words settled between them. Aster didn’t look away first.

Selene exhaled, breaking the moment. "I’d like to see the production process. Meet the artisans, inspect the raw materials. If everything checks out, we’ll move forward."

Aster nodded. "I’ll set it up."

They kept walking, discussing logistics, price points, and sustainability certifications. But in between the business talk, there were small moments.

Aster would glance at Selene when she wasn’t looking, trying to place why she felt so damn familiar.
Selene would brush her fingers over a fabric sample, feeling something almost nostalgic but not knowing why.
Their hands would graze accidentally, and both would pull away just a second too late.

Neither of them said anything about it.
Neither of them knew how.

But something was there.

Something unspoken.

And whether they knew it or not, the threads of fate were already weaving them back together.

Morning sunlight spills through the tall glass panels of the greenhouse, casting a golden glow over rows of thriving plants. The crisp scent of fresh soil and dew lingers in the air, blending with the faint sweetness of blooming jasmine that clings to the trellises overhead. At the heart of the space, a rustic wooden table is laid out with neatly arranged fabric swatches—earthy linens, soft cotton blends, and intricate weaves—all catching the light in different hues.

Selene stood at the table, her fingers grazing over the samples with quiet scrutiny. Her presence, poised and deliberate, contrasts with the natural, untamed beauty of the greenhouse. Aster watches her from a few steps away, arms loosely crossed, the sleeves of her light button-down slightly rolled up, revealing traces of soil from her morning routine.

The contrast between them is almost amusing. One belongs to the polished world of fashion, the other to the raw simplicity of the earth. And yet, there is something that draws them into the same space.

"These are impressive," Selene remarked, her touch lingering on a particularly fine weave. "Lightweight but sturdy. I wasn’t expecting this level of refinement."

Aster raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across her face. "Hindi ko alam kung puri ‘yan o insulto."

Selene glances up, lips curling slightly. "It’s a compliment. Just an unexpected one."

Aster chuckles, stepping closer. "Most people don’t associate farming with high-quality textiles. But nature has a way of surprising people."

Selene hums in response, her gaze drifting back to the swatches. As she lifts one of the pieces, a smooth, intricate weave. Something about it makes her pause.

The texture is familiar. Strangely so.

She rubs the fabric between her fingers, a crease forming between her brows. "This one… feels different."

Aster’s expression shifts, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "That’s a custom blend. Pinaghalo ‘yung indigenous techniques with newer sustainable processing. Took me a while to get it right."

Selene nods, but her thoughts seem distant. The sensation of the fabric against her skin tugs at something deep in her mind—something she can’t quite place. Like a half remembered dream slipping through her grasp.

"Parang… dati ko na siyang nahawakan," she murmurs, almost to herself.

Aster stills for half a second.

She doesn’t know why, but she understands the feeling. The sensation of familiarity with no explanation. Like hearing a melody she should recognize but can’t quite recall.

For a moment, the greenhouse is silent except for the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Aster watches Selene, then softly, without thinking, says, "Then maybe, it was meant for you."

Selene looks up. Their eyes meet.

The moment is fleeting, subtle, barely there, but it lingers. It’s nothing. And yet, it isn’t.

Selene clears her throat, breaking the spell. "I’ll take this one. Can you handle bulk orders?"

Aster, never one to back down from a challenge, tilts her head slightly. "Depende. Gaano karaming bulk ang pinaguusapan natin?"

Selene’s lips twitch, the sharp glint of a challenge sparking in her eyes. "Enough to keep you busy for months."

Aster doesn’t falter. "Then you better pay well."

Selene chuckles, reaching into her purse and pulling out a sleek business card. She extends it toward Aster, her manicured nails catching the sunlight. "Send me your quotes. I’ll be in touch, Miss Dela Cruz."

Aster takes the card but doesn’t look at it yet. Instead, she watches as Selene turns to leave, the crisp rhythm of her heels against the wooden floor fading into the warmth of the morning.

For a brief moment, Aster glances down at the fabric Selene had touched. She brushes her fingers over it, tracing the weave with the lightest touch.

The sensation is familiar, too.

She just doesn’t know why.

Aster leans against the greenhouse’s wooden frame, watching as Selene disappears into the distance. The scent of freshly turned earth and the soft rustle of leaves surround her, grounding her in the reality of the moment. And yet, there’s something unsettling. Something lingering in the air long after Selene has left.

She glances down at the business card still resting between her fingers.

Selene Aurelia Valdez.

She exhales, flipping the card absentmindedly before tucking it into her pocket. Her workday isn’t over, and there’s no reason to get caught up in a moment that shouldn’t mean anything.

Or so she tells herself.

With a small shake of her head, she pushes off the frame and strides back into the field, the warmth of the morning sun at her back.

The city hums around her as Selene steps out of the car and into the lobby of her high rise condo. The cool airconditioning is a stark contrast to the warmth of the morning, but even as she walks toward the elevator, she finds herself absentmindedly rubbing her fingers together, the ghost of the fabric’s texture still clinging to her skin.

She doesn’t know why it unsettles her.

Inside the elevator, she leans against the mirrored wall, gazing at her reflection. A practiced, polished image stares back at her: soft hair, sharp eyes, an unshakable presence. Yet, for the first time in a while, she feels slightly off balance.

Her mind drifts back to Aster.

That moment in the greenhouse.

That strange feeling like déjà vu, but deeper. More visceral.

She closes her eyes briefly. Why did it feel like they’d done this before?

Before she can dwell on it further, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open.

She steps out, heels clicking softly against the marble floors, unaware that just a few doors down, Aster is unlocking her own unit.

Fate has already set its course. They just don’t know it yet.

The sound of her phone buzzing broke Aster’s quiet morning routine. She had just finished tending to the greenhouse, the scent of fresh soil still clinging to her hands. A glance at the screen made her pause, an unfamiliar number.

She wiped her hands on her jeans before answering. “Hello?”

“Dela Cruz?” A voice that is smooth, confident, and immediately recognizable filtered through the line.

Aster didn’t need to ask who it was. “Valdez,” she responded, leaning against the wooden fence. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you this soon.”

On the other end, she could hear the faint rustle of papers, the click of a pen against a desk. Selene sounded just as poised over the phone as she did in person.

“I looked over the samples again,” Selene said. “I want to discuss the next steps.”

Aster smirked. “Didn’t take you long to decide.”

Selene let out a soft hum, as if amused. “I know a good thing when I see it.”

Aster didn’t know why that made something in her chest tighten.

“Alright,” she said, shaking off the feeling. “Where do you want to meet?”

There was a slight pause, then, “Ever been to Cafe Celeste?”

Aster raised a brow. “Can’t say I have.”

“It’s in the city, near my office. It has good coffee.” Selene’s voice remained neutral, but there was an undertone of something almost teasing. “Unless you’d rather discuss business in a field somewhere?”

Aster rolled her eyes, even though Selene couldn’t see her. “Cafe Celeste works. What time?”

“Ten.”

“Fine.”

Aster heard a quiet chuckle before Selene simply said, “See you then.”

The line went dead, but Aster found herself staring at her phone for a moment longer than necessary.

Weird.

She didn’t usually think twice about business meetings.

But this one?

This one felt different.

The city pulsed with its usual rhythm with cars honking, hurried footsteps on pavement, and the occasional chatter of people catching up over coffee.

Aster navigated through the bustling streets, hands shoved into the pockets of her denim jacket. The transition from the quiet fields of her farm to the sleek, fast paced urban environment was always a little jarring. She wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but she wasn’t at home either.

When she reached Cafe Celeste, she paused.

It wasn’t the kind of place she usually found herself in. There were no wooden counters or chalkboard menus scribbled with the day’s specials just clean lines, floor-to-ceiling windows, and the faint aroma of artisanal coffee mixed with something floral.

Her eyes scanned the café.

Then she saw her.

Selene Aurelia Valdez.

Seated at a corner table near the window, effortlessly poised, a cup of coffee cradled between her fingers. Even in a simple white blouse and tailored slacks, she exuded an undeniable presence like she belonged in this world, like she had never known anything else.

Aster felt that strange pull again.

She took a breath and walked over. “You pick the fancy places, huh?”

Selene glanced up, a ghost of a smirk on her lips. “You’re only saying that because there’s no dirt anywhere.”

Aster huffed a quiet laugh. “Maybe.”

Selene gestured to the seat across from her. “Sit. I already ordered for you.”

Aster raised a brow. “Oh? Confident, aren’t we?”

Selene took a sip of her coffee, unfazed. “Just efficient.”

Aster slid into the chair, glancing at the cup in front of her. Black coffee, no sugar.

She eyed it, then looked at Selene. “Alright, you did your research.”

Selene tilted her head slightly, tapping her manicured fingers against her cup. “I didn’t have to.”

Aster’s brow lifted. “Oh?”

Selene shrugged, a casual yet deliberate movement. “You mentioned it last time. When we were at your farm, you made a passing comment about how you ‘take your coffee like your mornings—strong, straightforward, and no nonsense.’”

Aster blinked. She had said that, hadn’t she? It was an offhand remark, something she didn’t expect anyone to actually remember.

Selene, seeing her expression, allowed herself a small smirk. “I remember details.”

Aster exhaled, shaking her head as she picked up the cup. “Alright, color me impressed.”

Selene lifted her own coffee to her lips, her gaze lingering for just a moment longer. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Aster leaned back in her seat, savoring the first sip of her coffee. It was strong, just the way she liked it, and despite the unfamiliar setting, the taste was grounding.

Selene, meanwhile, was watching her. Not in an obvious way, but in that quiet, assessing manner that made Aster feel like she was being studied.

“You don’t come to the city often, do you?” Selene asked.

Aster smirked. “That obvious?”

Selene’s lips curved slightly. “A little.”

Aster exhaled, rolling her shoulders. “I’m more comfortable where things grow. Where they don’t need validation to have value.”

Selene tapped her nails lightly against the rim of her cup. “And yet, you’re here.”

Aster met her gaze, steady. “You’re making it worth my while.”

Selene’s smile deepened, as if satisfied with that answer. “I intend to”

She placed her tablet between them, the soft glow of the screen illuminating delicate sketches and fabric notes. “Alright, let's talk fabric.”

Aster straightened. Right. Business.

But even as they discussed materials, production, and logistics, Aster couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a business meeting.

That somewhere beneath the swatches and numbers, there was a thread connecting them, one neither of them could see yet.

Selene had already seen the fabric swatches from Aster’s farm. She had run her fingers over the delicate weave, inspected the way the fibers caught the light. Now, she was here to discuss how Véa would use them.

She tapped a manicured finger against her tablet, scrolling through the preliminary designs. “I want these fabrics incorporated into Véa’s upcoming collection. The texture, the craftsmanship—it’s exactly what I’ve been looking for.”

Aster raised a brow, arms crossed. “You sound sure about this.”

Selene met her gaze, unwavering. “I am.”

Something about the certainty in her voice made Aster pause. She had worked with designers before, but none like Selene. Most would hesitate, weighing trends and production concerns. But Selene knew what she wanted.

“What’s the collection’s theme?” Aster asked.

Selene’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Threads of Starlight.”

Aster blinked. “That’s—” She hesitated, an odd sense of deja vu creeping in. “That’s a poetic name for a fashion line.”

“Véa isn’t just about fashion.” Selene leaned back slightly, as if measuring her words. “It’s about stories. And some stories feel... older than we remember.”

Aster frowned, but before she could press further, Selene smoothly continued, “Your farm’s textiles have a natural shimmer under the light. I want to highlight that—the way the fibers catch movement, the way they seem almost alive.”

Aster nodded slowly. “Abaca and cotton blends can do that, depending on the weave. But they’re also difficult to work with if you want structure.”

Selene’s eyes glinted with something like amusement. “Good thing I enjoy a challenge.”

Aster huffed a quiet laugh. “You don’t seem like the type who settles for anything less than perfect.”

“And you don’t seem like the type who compromises on quality,” Selene countered.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other.

It wasn’t quite a challenge.

But it wasn’t nothing, either.

Finally, Selene extended a hand, breaking the moment. “Let’s make this official, then.”

Aster glanced down at the offered handshake.

Her fingers tingled before they even touched.

Still, she clasped Selene’s hand which is warm, steady, lingering just a second too long.

Something flickered.

A pull.

A thread tightening between them.

But just as quickly, it was gone.

“Alright,” Aster murmured. “Let’s make it official.”

And just like that, the deal was sealed.

For now.

The sun hung low in the sky, bathing the fields in amber light. Aster let out a slow breath, standing at the edge of her greenhouse as the day’s warmth settled into the earth. Her hands absently skimmed over a stalk of abacá, the familiar texture grounding her yet her mind was elsewhere.

Selene Aurelia Valdez.

The name lingered, looping through her thoughts longer than it should have. Aster had met plenty of business partners before, but there was something different about this one. Maybe it was the way Selene spoke—every word measured, every glance like she was seeing something beyond what was in front of her. Or maybe it was the way Aster had felt when they shook hands, like something old and forgotten had stirred deep in her chest.

She exhaled sharply. It was just business. That was all.

And yet—

A soft breeze swept through the greenhouse, carrying with it the scent of earth and drying leaves. For a moment, Aster swore she heard something else, something faint and distant.

A voice.

She turned instinctively, scanning the quiet stretch of land behind her. There was no one there. Just the rustling of banana leaves, the faint hum of the wind through the trees.

Aster shook her head, trying to push away the unease creeping up her spine. She had work to do. The land didn’t wait for distractions.

But even as she walked back toward her farmhouse, the feeling remained.

Something had shifted.

Selene sat in her studio, the city skyline stretching beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The last light of the day painted streaks of gold and violet across the glass, casting soft shadows over the fabric swatches scattered on her desk.

Her fingers traced the edges of the samples from Aster’s farm—natural fibers, raw and unrefined, yet carrying a quiet strength. Just like her.

She blinked, catching herself. Why was she thinking about Aster?

It wasn’t unusual for Selene to admire someone’s craft, especially when it aligned with her design philosophy. But this felt different. The meeting earlier played in her mind on an endless loop. Aster’s measured words, the way her gaze lingered just a second too long. The way Selene had felt something shift in the air between them, a familiarity she couldn’t explain.

She leaned back in her chair, exhaling. It’s just business. That was all it was. A promising partnership. A step toward something new.

And yet—

A sudden chill ran up her spine.

Selene’s gaze flickered to the mirror across the room. For a split second, she thought she saw movement not her own reflection, but something else.

Someone else.

Her breath caught, heart hammering against her ribs. But when she looked again, it was just her, eyes wide, face calm but uneasy.

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Pagod ka lang, Selene.”

She reached for her notebook, flipping to a fresh page. But instead of writing out design ideas, her pen hovered over two words before she even realized it.

Aster Calla.

Selene stared at the name, a strange weight settling in her chest.

Something had shifted.

She just didn’t know what.

She tapped her pen against the desk, staring at the letters as if they might rearrange themselves into something that made sense.

Why did it feel so… familiar?

A gust of wind slipped through the slightly open window, rustling the papers on her desk. Outside, the city glowed, the cars moving like rivers of light, neon signs flickering against glass towers. The world was moving, yet she sat frozen, stuck on a name that shouldn’t mean anything.

Her phone vibrated, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Maia: "Ready for the gala? You better be wearing something stunning. I need competition."

Selene huffed a small laugh, shaking her head as she leaned back against her chair. Leave it to Maia to be dramatic. She quickly typed out a reply.

Selene: "I am the competition. See you tomorrow."

She placed her phone down, but the momentary distraction didn’t shake the odd sensation lingering in her chest.

Tomorrow night.

She exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the unease. It was just another event, another night of flashing cameras, champagne glasses, and carefully curated smiles.

And yet, something felt different.

A quiet pull, an unnamed anticipation.

As if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting.

Selene turned off her desk lamp and stood, stretching before heading to her closet. If nothing else, at least she would look stunning tomorrow.

But as she pulled a dress from the rack, her fingers hesitated, tracing the delicate embroidered stars along the fabric.

A pattern she swore she had seen before.

But where?

The thought was gone before she could hold onto it.

Shaking her head, Selene muttered to herself, “I need sleep.”

Yet, as she climbed into bed, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—was waiting for her on the other side of tomorrow.

Aster adjusted the cuff of her blazer, her fingers grazing the silver chain around her wrist. A habit she wasn’t even aware of. The tailored black blazer rested lightly on her shoulders, framing the midnight blue dress underneath. Simple and understated, yet polished enough for an event like this. It wasn’t her usual setting, but she knew how to blend in when necessary.

The gala buzzed around her, laughter and conversation mixing with the soft hum of a live orchestra. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the venue, illuminating the sea of well-dressed guests. Aster exhaled, fingers tightening slightly around the glass of champagne she hadn’t even sipped.

She wasn’t sure why she agreed to this.

Janus had been insistent, something about “connections” and “good for business,” but Aster had a feeling there was more to it. Her friend had been acting strangely ever since the farm deal with Vea was finalized watchful in a way Aster didn’t quite understand.

Still, she had shown up, just as she promised.

As she scanned the room, her gaze landed on a familiar figure standing near the bar, mid-conversation yet somehow apart from the crowd. Selene Aurelia Valdez.

Even here, in an event where she undoubtedly belonged, she stood out.

Selene’s gown was sleek, ivory with silver embroidery that shimmered like constellations under the light. Aster’s eyes trailed the elegant curve of her back, bare except for the delicate chain draped across it. She was effortlessly poised, a vision of grace and confidence. But there was something else—something in the way she lightly traced the rim of her wine glass, absentmindedly sketching a pattern with her fingertips.

A pattern that looked strangely familiar.

Aster frowned, a strange pull in her chest she couldn’t name.

Before she could think twice, Selene glanced up, her gaze locking onto Aster’s from across the room.

And just like that, everything else—the chatter, the music, the clinking of glasses—faded into the background.

For a moment, it was just them.