The morning mist still lingered over the hills as I stepped out of the house, the scent of pine and damp earth clinging to the crisp air. Our home, perched on a gentle slope above the town, gleamed softly under the early sun—newer-looking than the others on our street, its cement walls freshly painted in pale cream. The gate creaked as I pushed it open, backpack slung over one shoulder, my steps familiar and measured.
I didn't take the motorcycle to school like most of my classmates. It was a ten-minute walk downhill, enough to wake my senses and organize my thoughts for the day. I liked that quiet time, the crunch of gravel under my shoes, the occasional crow of a rooster, and the sleepy greetings of neighbors setting up shop.
It was 2014, but in our town, time moved slower. We had cellphones, yes—mine was a Nokia, the brick-like ones—but life didn't revolve around them. Here, you heard the news from the people, though some are just gossip, not Twitter. Gossip traveled faster than text messages.
As I walked, I ran my fingers along the stone walls that lined the road. I'd memorized each bend, each crack. I could almost do it with my eyes closed.
School was already alive by the time I reached the gate. A burst of laughter from the covered court echoed through the halls. Someone was chasing someone else with a plastic bottle full of cold water. First-years in loose uniforms moved in awkward clusters, clutching class schedules.
"Mel!" Jasmine waved from the flagpole area, where our class was gathering for morning assembly. "You're early. Again."
I gave her a small smile and joined her in line. The second-year section stood near the back, next to a low wall covered in vines. Jean and Coleen were already in place, Jean yawning so wide you'd think he hadn't slept in days.
"Another quiz today?" she groaned.
"English," I said. "Ma'am Domingo announced it yesterday. Subject-verb agreement."
Jasmine snorted. "That again? Easy."
Easy, yes—but I had still reviewed last night. It wasn't just about passing. It was about never giving anyone a reason to doubt me. In a school where a lot of students coasted, I stood out—not just for the medals or contest winnings, but for how I carried myself. Quiet. Consistent. Like I was always preparing for something.
"Eyes front," one of the teachers called as the national anthem started. We stood in still formation, the flag rising slowly into the morning light.
After assembly, classes began in full swing.
The first few periods passed in a blur—notes on the board, chalk dust in the air, the scent of fresh paper and glue from the arts classroom next door. I liked school. Not in the way that nerds on TV were written to like school, but in the way that someone likes breathing. It was something I understood. Something I could rely on. School is always be a place I'll miss for the simplicity of the day to day life, not like when you're in society where the real world works differently.
During Science, I answered most of Ma'am Cristobal's questions, not to show off, but because silence made me itch. When no one else raised their hand, I did.
"Very good, Carmela," Ma'am said, nodding with approval as I explained the phases of mitosis.
Behind me, I heard Jean whisper, "How does she know this stuff?"
Jasmine giggled. "She's a cyborg."
I didn't mind the teasing. Not anymore.
By the time snack break came, the sun was already high, and the school canteen was packed. I already bought my own food—water and a biscuit. I found an empty table under the mango tree and sat with my usual group.
"Guys," Jasmine said as she popped open a bag of chichirya, "guess what?"
Jean leaned forward. "You finally stopped stalking Treize?"
Jasmine kicked her under the table. "No, dummy. The student council is asking for volunteers for the school fair next month."
Coleen raised a brow. "What kind of volunteers?"
"For the quiz bee, spelling bee, poster-making... all the usual stuff. Carmela, you should join again."
I shrugged. "I'm already helping with the academic team."
"She's gonna win again," Jean muttered through a mouthful of rice. "Like always."
"Can we not talk about winning?" I said quietly, glancing down at my snack. "Let's talk about something else."
The table fell silent for a second. We all knew what I was avoiding. Treize. Samantha. The two of them, always walking the halls now like they'd stepped out of a teen drama. I didn't want their names in my mouth anymore.
After lunch and near the end of the day came P.E., where I jog and feel the wind. I wasn't athletic in my past life—now in this life, I made sure I can do what others can too. Our class was practicing for intramurals, and I stuck to the edge of the court, tossing the shuttlecock gently and letting Jasmine do all the running.
"You okay?" she asked after we sat down on the bleachers, fanning ourselves with our IDs.
"Yeah."
"Still thinking about... him?"
I shook my head. "Not anymore."
And it was true, in a way. I had spent weeks picking myself apart, replaying his words, wondering what I could've done differently. But something in me had snapped back into place. Maybe it was time. Or maybe it was something deeper—like my soul already knew how this kind of story ended.
"I just want to do better," I added. "Be better."
"Better than her?"
"No," I said. "Better than who I was when I needed him."
Jasmine looked at me for a long time before nodding. "You always talk like a tita (auntie)."
I laughed.
After class, I stayed behind in the library. The small room smelled like dust and old plastic covers, but I liked the quiet. I reviewed my notes, worked on my poster design for a regional contest, and wrote a draft of my next essay for the campus paper. The sun dipped low outside the window, turning the glass a soft golden hue.
Before I left, I checked my phone, sometimes I secretly carry with me even though it's forbidden to bring one. One message from Raziel.
Raziel (4:21 PM):Let me know if you're free next Saturday. I might be in town.
I stared at the screen for a long time. Raziel wasn't like the others. We met during the middle of the school year. He lived an hour away, studied in a private school like me, and somehow still had the quiet soul of someone who watched people more than he spoke. We weren't dating. Not really. But we shared things. Dreams. Doubts. Things I couldn't even say out loud to Jasmine.
Me:I'll check. Maybe after I finish this competition.
Raziel:No rush. Just wanted to see you, is all.
The walk home was colder. The mist was starting to roll back down from the mountain ridge, curling around the rooftops. Inside the house, the lights were already on. Tatay was fixing the handle of our cabinet again, whistling softly. The radio hummed an old Kundiman song from the kitchen.
"Anak," Nanay called from the dining area, where her sewing machine was pushed aside to make room for dinner. "You're home late."
"Stayed in the library," I said, slipping off my shoes and washing my hands in the basin outside.
We ate as a family—just the three of us, since my brothers were still in the city for school. I helped clean up, did a few chores, then settled in at the dining table to finish my assignment. Nanay passed by with a mug of Milo and kissed the top of my head.
"Pagod ka na?" (Are you tired) she asked.
I shook my head. "Kaya pa." (I can do it.)
She smiled, proud but tired.
Later, in bed, I stared at the ceiling fan spinning slowly overhead. The world felt quieter in these hours. And I was left alone with my thoughts.
No one knew how much I was building beneath the surface—how far my mind was already running ahead. I wasn't rushing to escape this town. But I knew my path stretched beyond it.
One day, I'd walk a longer road than just the ten minutes to school. One day, I'd be something more than the girl who just aced the quiz or helped organize a fair.
And when that day came, I'd carry every lesson, every heartbreak, every tiny win with me—just as I carried them now.