Chapter 3: Whispers in Transit
1149 Words
Nakaupo si Aira sa isang waiting shed malapit sa kanilang Art building, sipping from a still-hot cup of 3-in-1 coffee in her thermos. She had arrived too early again. It was still a bit drizzly, and her coat had damp shoulders, but the quiet was a nice contrast to her usual morning rush.
Ilang minuto lang ay may narinig itong familiar na tunog ng footsteps, it's light but purposeful.
“Uy,” Liam’s voice came, slightly out of breath. “You’re early.”
“You’re late,” she replied, not turning around. “Again.”
He chuckled. “I’m only five minutes late. Technically still ‘Filipino time.’”
“Technically still annoying,” she muttered, but scooted her bag aside to make room.
Liam took the seat beside her and set his sketchpad on his lap. “I brought pancit bread. Peace offering.”
She glanced at him, and to his surprise, actually took one. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
There was a beat of silence. The sound of rain on the roof above them filled the gap, soft and rhythmic. It was oddly calming.
“So,” Liam started, “I’ve been thinking about the train girl. I tried sketching her apartment messy but lived-in, lots of muted colors, and books everywhere. And I thought… what if the messages start appearing in places beyond the train? Like sa apartment niya, sa mga alley she walks through. It escalates.”
Aira turned to him, intrigued. “That’s… actually good. It builds suspense.”
He looked pleased. “Nice. I was worried you’d say it’s ‘overdone’ or something.”
“I still might,” she said flatly, but her eyes were dancing, just a little.
They worked quietly for the next hour, Aira typing with purpose while Liam alternated between sketching and watching her work with a kind of fascinated curiosity. There was something about her when she was focused like she was building a whole world no one else could see.
“You ever think about why people stop caring?” Aira said suddenly, not looking up from her screen.
Liam blinked. “Uh. Like… in general?”
“Yeah. Like, one day, someone’s passionate. Alive. Then life happens. Deadlines. Rejections. Expectations. And boom. They shut down.”
Liam thought for a moment. “Maybe they’re just tired. Or maybe they were never seen the way they needed to be.”
She finally looked at him, caught off guard by the depth in his voice.
“You say things that sound shallow, but then you surprise me,” she said.
“That’s my brand,” he grinned. “Unpredictable genius.”
She rolled her eyes, but her expression softened.
---
By lunchtime, the two decided to take a break. They walked across campus, the ground still slick from the rain. As they passed the fountain, Liam suddenly stopped.
“Wait,” he said, pulling out his phone. “This spot. Let’s take a reference photo.”
Aira frowned. “Of what?”
“You. Standing over there.”
“Nope.”
“Come on,” he insisted. “You’re literally the protagonist in this story. I need to see the character in the world.”
“I’m not a model.”
“You don’t have to be. Just… be you.”
Something about the way he said it, calm, unpressured, made her pause.
She crossed her arms. “Fine. One shot.”
He took three.
As they reviewed the pictures together, Aira saw something strange in the image. Not how she looked but how she felt. She didn’t look stiff or annoyed. She looked… real. Like someone mid-story.
“You okay?” Liam asked.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I just, huh, never mind.”
They returned to the shaded benches near the cafeteria. Liam took out his sketchpad again while Aira leaned her chin on her hand, watching students pass by.
“You know,” Liam said, not looking up, “You’re not what I expected.”
“Good or bad?”
“Somewhere in between,” he teased. “You’re intimidating. But also interesting.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not what I expected either.”
“How so?”
“I thought architecture guys were all ego.”
“We are,” he said proudly. “Pero some of us come with charm.”
Aira laughed, really laughed, for the first time in a while. It was quick, barely there, but Liam caught it. Stored it like a treasure.
---
Later that afternoon, back in the seminar hall, their professor called for a short presentation from each group about their progress. Aira’s heart sped up. Public speaking wasn’t her thing.
“Group Mendoza and Reyes,” Prof. Villanueva said. “You’re up.”
Liam nudged her as they stood. “You talk. I’ll draw on the whiteboard.”
“No,” she whispered. “You talk.”
He leaned close. “Scared?”
“Prepared,” she hissed.
He smiled. “Relax. We’ve got this.”
They stepped up front. Liam took the marker and began drawing a loose cityscape. Aira took a deep breath and faced the class.
“Our concept is titled 'Whispers in Transit,'” she began, voice steady. “It follows a young woman navigating urban life, marked by grief and emotional numbness. She rides the same train every day until anonymous messages start appearing in the environment around her. The story explores invisible connection, emotional isolation, and the haunting nature of memory in crowded cities.”
As she spoke, Liam sketched silhouettes on the board—train stations, tall buildings, a single figure in motion. The class was unusually quiet.
“And the twist,” Liam added, “is that these messages might be from an alternate version of herself—one who never lost hope.”
Gasps and murmurs of interest rippled through the room.
Professor Villanueva nodded. “Good. Intriguing use of narrative and space. Continue refining. I’m looking forward to seeing how you execute it visually and emotionally.”
As they returned to their seats, Liam leaned in. “You killed it.”
“I almost threw up,” she muttered.
“But you didn’t.”
And that, somehow, felt like victory.
---
Kinagabihan, habang naglalakad si Aira pauwi mag-isa. The rain had stopped entirely. The streets glistened under the faint glow of streetlamps. Tumunog ang cellphone nito at tinignan.
[Liam]: Thanks for today. I mean it. You made that idea come alive.
She stared at the message for a long moment before replying.
[Aira]: You’re not so bad yourself, Reyes.
Then, after a pause
[Aira]: Same time tomorrow?
[Liam]: It’s a date.
She stared at that last message. No emoji. No joke.
Her heart thudded a little faster.
Maybe this project wasn’t the only unexpected thing she’d be working on this semester.
- Writer
