Chapter 1: The Unexpected Choice
1120 Words
"Hindi ka na talaga magbabago, Aira?"
Her mother’s voice sliced through the stillness of the morning like the first crack of thunder before a storm.
The kitchen smelled like garlic rice and reheated dishes from last night, but none of it felt comforting. The heaviness in the air weighed down every breath.
Aira didn’t look up. She just sipped from her coffee, her fingers buried under the sleeves of her hoodie, her gaze locked on the swirling black liquid.
It was too early for this. But it was always too early.
"Parang wala kang pakialam sa klase mo. Puro basa, puro sulat—pero kailan ka matutong makihalubilo sa mga kaklase mo?"
Her lips barely moved. “Ano bang ginawa ko, Ma?”
"Exactly. Wala. Hindi ka sumasali. Hindi ka nagvo-volunteer. Hindi ka kilala ng mga professor mo. Sa group work, palagi kang tahimik. Kailan ka matutong magpakita ng leadership?"
“I don’t like the spotlight,” she muttered.
But her mother wasn’t finished. She rarely ever was.
Her father sat nearby, reading the newspaper, barely reacting. As if he had grown immune to the tension. As if her silence had become part of the furniture.
Her younger brother Lance, seated across the table, poked at his cereal and winced every time their mom’s voice raised a notch.
“Ma… baka naman sobra pa sa aga para sa sermon?” Lance said softly.
But her mother only sighed. “Kung hindi natin siya tutulungan magising sa realidad, sino pa? Aira, we’re not doing this to hurt you. We want to see you grow. To see you fight for something.”
Fight?
She was fighting. Every. Single. Day.
But how do you explain that waking up, walking out the door, pretending to be okay—it already felt like war?
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she stood, grabbed her bag, and slung it over her shoulder.
“I need to go,” she said. “May seminar pa kami ngayon.”
She was halfway to the door when her mom called out, softer this time.
“Just try to step up today. Huwag mong sayangin.”
She didn’t reply.
—
The rain outside greeted her like an old friend—persistent, unforgiving, cold.
She opened her umbrella, but the wind tugged at it like it didn’t want her to hide. Her sneakers were soaked within seconds, her jeans clinging to her legs. Every step toward the university felt like dragging herself through wet cement.
Step up.
Makisama.
Leadership.
The words repeated like a broken record in her head. Words she was tired of hearing. Words that felt like knives every time they were thrown at her.
Why did it always feel like people wanted her to be someone else?
She reached campus later than usual. Her hoodie was soaked through, her fingers stiff from gripping her umbrella, but she kept moving—head down, breath shallow.
The auditorium was filled with students from different programs—Literature, Architecture, Fine Arts. Everyone buzzed with quiet energy, chatting, laughing, scrolling through phones.
One of her classmates waved her over. She offered a small smile but walked past them and found an empty seat at the back, near the window. The rain tapping against the glass felt more welcoming than any conversation.
She exhaled, finally.
Let me be invisible. Just for today.
Then
A Thud.
A body dropped into the seat beside hers. Loud. Unapologetic. A soaked jacket was thrown over the backrest. A sketchpad peeked out of his bag.
“Hi,” the guy said with a grin, brushing wet hair off his forehead. “Swerte ng ulan, no? Literal na binasa buong katawan ko.”
She turned her head slowly.
He was the kind of guy who probably knew everyone’s name, ran three organizations, and replied to every group chat with memes and energy. Confident. Easy. The kind of presence that took up space without even trying.
“Hi,” she replied, short and clipped.
“I’m Liam. Architecture, third year.”
“Aira. Literature.”
“Cool,” he said, like it was the most normal conversation in the world—even though her hoodie was dripping, her voice was a whisper, and she was already halfway checked out of the day.
Before he could say more, a sharp clap echoed across the room.
Professor Villanueva stood at the front of the auditorium.
“Good morning, everyone. Welcome to your interdisciplinary seminar: Narratives in Space and Emotion.” Her eyes swept across the room. “This project is a collaboration between students of Literature and Design. Each of you will be partnered with someone from a different program to create a major narrative-visual project due at the end of the semester.”
Aira’s stomach sank.
“This will test not just your creativity,” the professor continued, “but your communication, leadership, and emotional depth.”
Please not me. Please not anything involving other people.
“And before we begin, we need two class representatives. One from each department.”
Silence.
No one moved.
Then, beside her, Liam raised his hand.
“Ma’am, I volunteer.”
Aira blinked.
Of course he did.
“And from Literature?” the professor asked.
No response. Everyone stared around, avoiding eye contact.
Then Liam raised his hand again.
“Ma’am, I’d like to nominate Aira Mendoza.”
What?!
Aira’s breath caught in her throat.
Eyes turned. Whispers buzzed.
She wanted to disappear. To crawl under the chair and vanish.
The professor smiled. “Aira Mendoza, will you accept?”
Say no. Say you’re not ready. Say anything to escape this.
But then—her mother’s voice echoed in her head again.
Just try to step up.
Her hand lifted on its own. “Opo, Ma’am.”
“Perfect,” the professor said. “Aira from Literature and Liam from Architecture. I expect full coordination from both of you.”
Polite claps filled the room. But all Aira could hear was her own heartbeat.
She turned to Liam slowly. “Why did you do that?”
He leaned closer, his voice playful. “You looked like you needed a little push.”
Her jaw tensed. “Didn’t ask for a teammate.”
“Too late now. We’re officially partners.”
He winked.
She looked away fast, pretending to focus on the professor. But her chest was tight, her thoughts racing.
She didn’t know what made her say yes. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe shame. Maybe she was just tired of hearing she wasn’t enough.
Or maybe…
It was the way Liam didn’t wait for her to volunteer. He chose her anyway.
Outside, the rain kept falling—steady and loud.
And somewhere deep inside, something cracked open.
- Writer
