Meeting my ex-lover, seeing him in his street sweeper uniform, I laughed contemptuously, it turned out that I had…
That morning, Manila was shimmering with sunlight. The rows of palm trees along the boulevard seemed to have been shaken clean of the night dew. I walked quickly through the intersection near the office area in Makati, the tense meeting still lingering in my mind. The company was preparing to sign a big contract, I barely paid attention to the surrounding streets — the sound of jeepneys starting up, the sound of tricycle horns honking at the curb, the fragrant smell of grilled pandesal from the lugaw shop on the corner…

Until, right in front of the door of that lugaw shop, I saw a familiar figure.

That person was wearing the orange uniform of the urban sanitation team, holding a bamboo broom, diligently sweeping the fallen leaves on the sidewalk. That back, the slanted figure as he bent down… made my heart skip a beat. I squinted, trying to get a closer look.

It was him.
It was Miguel Santos — the man who held my hand through my youth, the man who three years ago left me without explanation.

I paused for a few seconds, then unconsciously pursed my lips and smiled — a smile mixed with contempt and… triumph. The day he left me, I cried my eyes out, thinking he left to find a better life. And now, he was sweeping the trash in the middle of Makati Street.

He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, I saw something very strange there — not confusion, not shame, but a calm smile.

“Hello, it’s been a long time.” His voice was still as deep and gentle as ever.

I crossed my arms, keeping my voice cold:

“Yes, it’s been a long time. I didn’t expect to see you… here.”

He nodded, didn’t say anything more, and bent down to continue sweeping. I turned away, feeling a strange feeling welling up in my heart — both elated and pitiful.

That night, I told the story to Lani — my best friend from college. Lani frowned:
– Are you sure it was Miguel?
– Of course. I even remember the mole on his cheek.

Lani shrugged:
– Maybe… he really is in trouble.

I laughed:
– So what? His story has nothing to do with me now.

But when I lay down, the image of him in his work clothes haunted me. I imagined him waking up at dawn, standing in the sun all day. And somewhere, a very small part of me… felt bitter.

Three days later… during lunch break, my colleagues and I stopped by a newly opened cafe in Bonifacio Global City. The place was crowded, the lights were warm yellow, and jazz music was playing softly. I was looking for a seat when I suddenly saw a tall figure walk in.

Miguel.

But it wasn’t Miguel in his work clothes and dusty gloves. He was wearing a pure white shirt, black trousers, and a sparkling watch on his wrist. In his hand was the key to a luxury car that I recognized immediately — a car that only the very rich would dare to own.

Next to him was a woman — elegant, haughty, the scent of perfume wafting through the air, making the atmosphere seem to sway. They sat down at a table in the corner, his hand gently placed on her back in a natural and intimate manner.

I was stunned, the glass of orange juice in my hand almost fell. The image from three days ago disappeared like a joke.

I sat down at another table, my eyes still following. He smiled and spoke naturally, just like a successful man. When our eyes met, I saw the corners of his lips curl slightly, as if he knew I had witnessed everything.

Unable to bear it, I took the initiative to step forward.

– You… Miguel.
He looked at me, his eyes both strange and familiar.

– How are you? – His voice was still calm, not a bit embarrassed.
I tried to keep my voice down:

– Three days ago… I saw you…
He nodded:

– Yes, I went to sweep the floor.

The woman beside him smiled and said,

Miguel is doing a project to experience working life to write a non-fiction book. He spent a month trying different jobs — cleaning worker, porter at Divisoria market, street vendor in Quiapo…

I stood still, my cheeks burning.

Miguel looked at me longer, then slowly:

Back then, when I left, I didn’t want you to wait for someone who didn’t know what he wanted. Now I’ve found what I want — to understand and appreciate the people and work around me.

He paused, his eyes meeting mine:

There are things that, if you just stand on the outside and look, you will never understand.

I pursed my lips. A wave of shame and regret rose up. The contemptuous smile from the day before suddenly turned into a painful scratch.

Miguel stood up, politely shook my hand before leaving with the woman. On the table, their coffee was still steaming, the gentle aroma wafting through the air. As for me, there was only emptiness and a question left: If I hadn’t laughed scornfully that day, would we still be able to talk like two people who used to love each other?