Plus 1
The front lawn of Hidalgo-Sy didn’t look like a corporate headquarters today. The usual sleek lines and business-formal ambiance had been replaced with vibrant banners, pastel balloons, and the warm scent of street food filling the air. A colorful tarp stretched across the entrance:
“HIDALGO-SY FAMILY DAY KICK-OFF!”
Booths lined the perimeter, face painting, cotton candy, taho, sorbetes, and a make-your-own halo-halo station that already had a line. Employees walked around with their spouses and children, some with elderly parents in tow. Laughter echoed from the game areas. Somewhere near the giant inflatable castle, someone was already being dunked in the mini water booth.
And in the middle of it all, Adrielle Hidalgo was losing to a six year old in a hula hoop contest.
“Hula hoop’s too small,” she muttered as the plastic ring fell to her feet for the third time.
“You’re just bad at it, Tita CEO!” the kid chirped.
Adrielle gasped, hands to her chest in mock offense. “You wound me!”
Nearby, under the shade of a pastel tent, Cassandra Sy stood with Liv, Mira, and Jen, each holding a tall glass of iced tea, all of them watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and secondhand embarrassment.
“I told her not to challenge the kids,” Cassandra said, sipping her drink.
“You know that only made her do it more,” Liv grinned.
“It’s giving midlife hula hoop crisis,” Mira added dryly.
“She’s thirty two,” Cassandra snorted.
“And yet, here we are,” Liv replied, lifting her glass.
As the day went on, the team found themselves roped into the activities, Adrielle took a pie to the face in charades, Cassandra aced Pinoy Henyo, Mira shockingly won the tug-of-war for the Admin Team, and Liv ran from a toddler army that mistook her for the face paint lady.
The energy was light, vibrant, and genuine. Employees beamed at seeing their bosses not only present but actually mingling, laughing, and getting messy alongside them.
As the sun started to soften into gold, most of the guests found their way to the food tents for merienda. Cassandra found herself by the taho stand, getting a cup with extra arnibal, when a small tug on her slacks made her look down.
A little girl with dark eyes and pigtails blinked up at her.
“Mom?”
Cassandra froze. “Oh—no, sweetheart, I’m not your mom.”
The little girl’s eyes welled up instantly. Within seconds, her lips trembled, her hands balled into tiny fists, and the tears came fast.
“Wait—no, please don’t—oh no, no, no,” Cassandra said, kneeling carefully. She looked around helplessly. “It’s okay. Let’s not cry. Do you… want a balloon? Taho?”
The girl wailed louder.
In the end, Cassandra awkwardly scooped her up, patting her back stiffly like she’d seen on TV, and walked toward the volunteer booth. She could feel every stare, every amused whisper.
The child quieted slowly in her arms, burying her face into Cassandra’s shoulder.
A few minutes later, a panicked woman arrived at the booth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Ma’am Cassandra! She ran off—she thought—thank you so much, I—”
“It’s alright,” Cassandra said gently. “She’s safe. Just scared.”
As she handed her over, the little girl looked back at her and whispered, “You smell like mommies do…”
Cassandra didn’t quite know what that meant but something in her chest fluttered anyway.
The buzz of the day had faded into quiet comfort. Cassandra curled up on the couch, hair tied in a lazy bun, a cold glass of water in hand. Adrielle dropped beside her with two scoops of leftover sorbetes in one bowl and a triumphant grin on her face.
Atticus had claimed the footrest, tail flicking lazily. Yuki had decided that Adrielle’s shoelaces were a worthy opponent and gnawed at them gently.
“I still have pie in my ear,” Adrielle muttered.
“That’s what you get for trying to act out Chickenjoy without words.”
“It was performance art,” Adrielle deadpanned.
Cassandra rolled her eyes but smiled, letting her head rest on Adrielle’s shoulder.
Adrielle tilted her head slightly. “Hey… that moment earlier, with the little girl?”
Cassandra looked up. “What about it?”
“You didn’t tell me she hugged you like that. Or what she said.”
Cassandra shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though her tone softened. “It was… nice. Terrifying. But nice.”
Adrielle’s voice dipped. “You handled it really well. I think she’s your first unofficial fan.”
“Oh, I’ve had fans,” Cassandra teased. “Just usually not the crying toddler kind.”
Adrielle chuckled. “You’d make a good mom.”
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Is this a segue?”
Adrielle blinked innocently. “What? No… Not at all…”
They laughed, the kind that softened into a warm, quiet peace. Yuki jumped up beside Cassandra. Atticus stretched and rolled over. The house felt full. The kind of full that had nothing to do with people—and everything to do with love.
Tomorrow would be visiting their families. But tonight, it was just them. In this house they built together. In this life that felt, despite everything, just like family.
The midday sun filtered through soft, cream curtains as the sliding doors stayed open to let the breeze waft through the Sy family’s spacious dining area. The warm scent of freshly grilled liempo and adobong pusit mixed with hints of calamansi from the pitchers of juice on the table. From the kitchen came the muffled clinking of plates and pots—familiar, comforting, and nostalgic.
Cassandra’s family home was lively as ever, but this time, it wasn’t just the Sy family gathered. Adrielle’s parents were there too, seated comfortably like they had always been part of every Sunday meal. And, of course, Rafa was already sipping from a wine glass, despite it being barely past noon.
The long table stretched with home, cooked dishes, family favorites that had become staples in these get togethers. Adrielle and Cassandra sat side by side, both relaxed for once, their matching white linen shirts unintentionally giving away how in sync they had become.
"So, how was the Family Day kick-off?” Charles Sy asked, skewering a piece of inihaw na liempo onto his plate. “Saw the photos on your company page. Looked fun.”
“It was chaotic,” Cassandra said, smirking behind her glass of juice.
“Successful chaos,” Adrielle added quickly. “Everyone had a great time.”
“Oh, tell them what happened to you!” Adrielle nudged Cassandra playfully, clearly enjoying what was coming.
Cassandra squinted at her. “No need—”
“She got mistaken for someone’s mom,” Adrielle grinned, turning to the group. “A little girl cried her heart out when Cassandra said no. As in bawling.”
Cassandra groaned as laughter echoed around the table.
“Ay, Cass!” Margaret clutched her chest, eyes twinkling. “Is the universe telling you something?”
“We’re eating,” Cassandra muttered, trying not to smile.
“But seriously,” Elena added, setting down her fork. “You two ever thought of having a child? You’ve been married for a while now.”
Cassandra almost choked on her water. Adrielle blinked.
There it was.
The conversation they always tiptoed around and their mothers just dove in like it was Sunday bingo.
“Well…” Adrielle started slowly, glancing at Cassandra, who was carefully pushing her rice around her plate.
“We’ve talked about it,” Cassandra said, lifting her gaze. “We just haven’t fully decided yet. You know how our schedules are. We’ve been focused on the business.”
Charles nodded, but her Margaret gave a subtle look. “The business is already stable, anak. It’s running well. You two have built something incredible.”
“Yes, and we want to enjoy it first,” Adrielle reasoned, then gave a small smile. “But it’s not off the table.”
“Exactly,” Cassandra said, sitting up straighter. “We’re not saying no. Just… not yet.”
“I would love to be a lola,” Elena added dreamily. “I already have crochet patterns ready. Baby blankets, mittens, booties—name it.”
“Same,” Margaret grinned. “I’m calling dibs on weekend visits.”
“Excuse me,” Rafa raised a finger dramatically, “If you’re going to have a son, I call dibs on training. Life lessons. Styling. Fashion sense. Charisma. Social strategy.”
Cassandra stared. “You want to mentor a baby?”
Rafa nodded with confidence. “It’s called early intervention.”
Everyone laughed again.
Despite their attempts to dodge the topic, it lingered softly in the air between bites of adobong pusit and cups of warm rice. But it didn’t feel heavy. It didn’t feel like pressure. Just… love. Excitement. A natural curiosity about the next chapter.
Later, when the table had cleared and the parents had moved to the living room for coffee, Adrielle and Cassandra sat on the bamboo swing in the small patio garden just outside the sliding door.
Adrielle glanced sideways at her wife. “You okay?”
Cassandra nodded, arms folded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“About the kid stuff?”
“Yeah. I mean, they’re right. We are stable now.”
Adrielle reached for her hand. “Let’s take our time. We’ll know when we’re ready.”
Cassandra squeezed her fingers. “We always do.”
They sat in peaceful silence, the wind rustling through the garden trees, their hands warm between them, not rushing, not promising anything just yet but slowly, maybe, beginning to picture it.
The familiar comfort of their living room cocooned them as the day wound down. Cassandra was curled on her side of the couch in one of Adrielle’s oversized hoodies, feet tucked under a warm blanket. Adrielle sat beside her, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap, both of them lazily snacking as the TV played in front of them volume low, lights dimmed.
Yuki was sprawled on the rug, belly up and snoring softly. Atticus was in his usual corner, perched on the windowsill, tail swishing with quiet disapproval at the noise the humans were making.
They weren’t really watching just flipping through channels when they landed on a feel-good movie. Some early 90s romcom with babies causing chaos in the lives of a working couple who didn’t expect parenthood so soon.
Adrielle chuckled at the screen as the main characters struggled to change a diaper. “That would be you.”
Cassandra glanced over with a playful frown. “Excuse me? I was a babysitter in high school.”
“For one weekend. Because your cousin had the flu,” Adrielle teased. “You gave the baby a spoonful of peanut butter.”
Cassandra huffed. “She liked it!”
Adrielle laughed, nudging her shoulder. “Okay, okay. You win.”
They fell quiet again, watching the characters chase after a crawling baby who had somehow gotten ahold of an electric toothbrush.
It was Cassandra who broke the silence, her voice soft but steady.
“I think I’m ready.”
Adrielle turned her head toward her, surprised. “Really?”
Cassandra’s eyes stayed on the screen. “Yeah. I mean… we’ve built so much together. This life, our home, the company. We’ve gone through every version of hard. And we made it. And now I keep thinking…” She turned to Adrielle. “Maybe it’s time we make something new.”
Adrielle’s heart thudded. Not out of fear—never fear—but a quiet, overwhelming warmth. A yes blooming in her chest.
“I’ve been thinking about it too,” she admitted. “Lately, when I hold Mira’s baby or when we see those toddlers at the cafe or that girl yesterday at Family Day… I keep picturing it.”
Cassandra smiled. “Picturing what?”
Adrielle leaned her head back against the couch. “Us. A mini you crawling around. Or maybe a little rascal with your exact resting b*tch face, trying to boss Atticus around.”
Cassandra laughed. “Yuki would love that.”
“I would love that,” Adrielle said softly.
There was a beat of silence between them, like a sacred pause, as if the moment knew it had weight.
“You’d be a great mom,” Cassandra whispered, laying her head against Adrielle’s shoulder.
“So would you,” Adrielle murmured, kissing her temple. “You’d carry them with so much grace. I already know you’d pick out the best baby clothes.”
“You’ll probably hoard all the bath toys,” Cassandra chuckled.
“I will deny nothing.”
Their fingers intertwined, resting between them.
“Can you imagine it?” Adrielle said after a while. “First steps on that patio. You sitting on the kitchen floor with them, showing them how to bake cookies. Reading bedtime stories together in the guest room we’ve never really used.”
“I think it’s time we do more than imagine it,” Cassandra replied.
Adrielle turned toward her, eyes shining, a smile tugging at her lips. “Then let’s do it.”
A long exhale left Cassandra’s chest, like she’d been holding that decision in for months. She nodded slowly, grounding herself in Adrielle’s gaze.
“Let’s have a baby.”
They didn’t need to say anything else. No immediate plans, no logistics, just a shared promise between them, nestled in quiet joy.
Outside, the wind brushed against the windows. Inside, two women sat on a couch under a blanket, with a bowl of half eaten popcorn and hearts full of something more than love—something blooming, soft and new.
They were ready.
After a few weekends, the dining room of Cassandra’s family home was once again filled with laughter, clinking plates, and the soft hum of classical music in the background, Elena insisted it was good for digestion.
This time, though, there was an air of quiet anticipation between the two women as they passed around platters and exchanged loaded glances over steaming bowls of kare-kare and roasted herbed chicken.
Adrielle had barely touched her food. Cassandra had folded her napkin three times.
They had agreed to tell them after lunch. But clearly, someone forgot that their families had a sixth sense for anything remotely suspicious.
“So,” Rafa leaned in, squinting at his sister and her wife from across the table, “either you two are about to tell us you’re moving to Switzerland or you just joined a cult.”
“Rafa!” Elena swatted his arm. “Let them chew first!”
Liv, who was conveniently seated right next to Rafa, grinned while sipping on her lemonade like she was already in on a secret she hadn’t been told yet.
Cassandra chuckled nervously. “We’re not moving. And definitely no cults.”
“Oh, good.” Rafa nodded solemnly. “Because I was ready to show up at a ritual in Gucci loafers.”
Adrielle cleared her throat and finally put down her fork. “Actually… we wanted to tell you all something.”
Every eye turned to them. Antonio sat straighter. Margaret clasped her hands like she was bracing for impact.
“We’ve decided…” Adrielle glanced at Cassandra, who gave her the softest nod. “We’re ready to have a baby.”
A full second of silence. Then—
“A what?!” Liv nearly choked. “Wait. Wait-wait-wait. Are you serious? Like… an actual baby? Like diapers and tiny socks and strollers?!”
“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the one to panic,” Cassandra teased.
“I’m not panicking,” Liv said, already fanning herself. “I’m preparing. Because as your best friend, I demand—demand—to be the fairy godmother. I already have names. If it’s a girl, we’re going with ‘Zarina.’ If it’s a boy, ‘Astro.’”
“Please don’t name our child after a constellation,” Cassandra deadpanned.
“Or a villain from an anime,” Adrielle added.
“Y’all don’t get it,” Liv cried. “I’ve been waiting for this moment since our second year in business school!”
“Hold up, I’m the brother!” Rafa declared, rising halfway from his seat like he was about to give a TED Talk. “I called dibs on teaching your kid everything. Bikes, video games, tax loopholes—”
“No to tax loopholes,” Antonio said firmly. “Teach them chess or something.”
“I’m just saying,” Rafa pressed on, “if it’s a boy, we’ll name him after me. Rafael Jr.”
“Absolutely not,” Cassandra said at the same time Adrielle said, “Over my dead body.”
Rafa clutched his chest dramatically. “Y’all wound me.”
Meanwhile, their moms were already pulling out their phones.
Margaret: “Do we have a group chat for this? We need one for baby updates.”
Elena: “We’ll be the best doting grandmothers! Have you picked out the nursery room yet?”
Adrielle blinked. “We just decided this last week…”
“Should we buy a crib?” Charles added, always the practical one. “Or are you still checking options?”
“We haven’t even picked the method yet,” Cassandra mumbled.
“Method?” Rafa echoed. “Wait. Are we talking IVF, adoption, surrogate? Can I be there for moral support? I’ll bring snacks.”
Liv leaned in again, eyes sparkling. “Also, are we having a baby shower? Can I host it? I have a theme. It's gender-neutral with pastel llamas.”
Cassandra sighed with a soft smile. “We just wanted to share the news. We didn’t expect a—”
“Planning committee?” Adrielle finished, glancing at the mess of excited, chatty adults surrounding them.
“Well,” Liv said, grinning from ear to ear, “you should have.”
Back in their own home, Cassandra lay curled into Adrielle’s side on the couch, their living room once more their safe space. Yuki snored at their feet. Atticus purred against Adrielle’s shoulder.
The chaos had passed, but the warmth lingered. Their family might’ve been loud, meddling, and over-the-top, but underneath all of it was love. Pure, electric, unconditional love.
“Still think we’re ready?” Adrielle asked gently, rubbing slow circles into Cassandra’s back.
Cassandra turned her face toward her, resting her chin on Adrielle’s chest. “Yeah. Especially with all of them in our corner.”
Adrielle smiled. “Even if our kid ends up named ‘Zarina Astro Rafael Hidalgo-Sy?’”
“Oh God.” Cassandra groaned. “Let’s save them from that fate.”
They both laughed, soft and genuine.
Adrielle reached over to the coffee table, picking up her phone to check a few things before setting it down again.
“No more work?” Cassandra asked.
“Nope,” Adrielle said, kissing her forehead. “Only baby planning.”
The following weeks passed in a gentle blur, punctuated by spreadsheets, quiet dinners, unfiltered chaos from friends and family and a lot of whispered what ifs in the middle of the night.
Adrielle and Cassandra had always excelled at planning. In business, in home life, in routines and systems. But planning for a baby? That was a whole different ballgame.
One Friday night found them sprawled on their bed, laptops open, glasses of wine untouched on the nightstand.
Cassandra tilted her screen toward Adrielle. “Okay. So, we have three main routes: IVF, IUI, or adoption. All of them come with different timelines and processes, but the good thing is, we qualify for all.”
Adrielle leaned closer, reading. “I still think it should be you.”
Cassandra blinked. “What?”
“To carry,” Adrielle said, resting her chin on Cassandra’s shoulder. “You’re stronger than me. More patient. And… I’ve seen how you look at babies.”
Cassandra flushed. “That’s not fair. You get emotional when a diaper commercial plays.”
Adrielle smiled. “Okay, that’s also true.”
They both laughed, and for a moment, it wasn’t about the charts or the logistics it was about the life they were choosing to build. Together.
They started attending consultations. Appointments were set between board meetings and product launches. They read books, downloaded parenting podcasts, subscribed to baby prep newsletters, and installed apps with names like Tiny Human Tracker.
Cassandra created a spreadsheet, color-coded, with tabs labeled: “Options,” “Procedures,” “Pros & Cons,” and “Budget.”
Adrielle created a mood board on Pinterest with nurseries, baby outfits, and soft pastel toys.
Liv, of course, was the first to barge into their progress.
Liv (on video call):
“You’re naming her Zarina, right?”
“Still on that?” Cassandra sighed.
“Fine. Then Astrid. Or Clementine. Or Joy.”
“Joy?” Adrielle asked.
“Yes. Because she’s literally the joy of my life. I’ll be her Fairy Godmother and her entire personality.”
“She’s not even born yet.”
“Details.”
Sometimes, Liv sent baby name suggestions in the middle of meetings. Adrielle once opened a document only to see a side note:
“Name suggestion: Bao. Like the dumpling short film. Very cute. Very iconic.”
Rafa, on the other hand, was chaos in a suit.
He called on random days, during a gym session, at dawn, or while Cassandra was in the middle of a quarterly report presentation.
Rafa (on call):
“Just reminding you, I’ll be the best tito in the world.”
“Rafa, it’s 2:17 AM.”
“Perfect time for unclely love. Oh! Teach the baby to skateboard. Yes or no?”
“NO.”
One day, he sent Adrielle a custom onesie that said “Future CEO, Trained by Tito Rafa.”
She nearly choked on her coffee.
At night, Cassandra and Adrielle would curl up with Yuki at their feet and Atticus perched on the back of the couch like a quiet guardian. Their talks were slow and thoughtful. Sometimes serious, sometimes full of giggles. And sometimes filled with silence but the kind that speaks volumes.
“Do you think we’ll be good at this?” Cassandra asked.
Adrielle scooted closer, “You’re the best partner I could ask for. You’re my safe space. And I know we’ll make this baby feel that too.” and placed a soft kiss on Cassandra's temple.
They didn’t tell anyone the method they were pursuing not because it was a secret, but because it was theirs. Something sacred. Something they were walking through together, hand in hand.
But one thing was for sure:
They weren’t doing it alone.
Because for all the noise and unsolicited advice, they had people who loved them fiercely. People who’d show up with diaper bags and emergency cookies. People who would squeal over ultrasound pictures and fight over who would babysit first.
And amid all the chaos, Cassandra and Adrielle looked at each other—every single day—and said the same silent vow:
“Let’s raise this little one with the kind of love we’ve built for each other.”