Chapter 2 : The Stress Distribution
1704 Words
The rain in Manila didn't just fall; it conquered. It was a relentless, rhythmic assault that turned the university’s manicured lawns into muddy marshes and the concrete walkways into treacherous rivers.
Haizel stood at the entrance of the University’s Main Building, clutching the straps of her backpack until her knuckles turned white. Outside, the sky was the color of unpolished lead, a heavy, oppressive grey that seemed to swallow the tops of the taller buildings. The wind was whipping the ancient acacia trees into a frenzy, and the sharp, earthy smell of wet asphalt—petrichor, as her Chemistry teacher would remind them during the first week of rain—filled the air.
"Great. Just great," she muttered, her breath fogging her glasses.
She had a 5:30 PM Calculus enrichment class, a marathon session designed to prepare them for the mock boards. But her umbrella—a cheap, floral thing she’d bought at a convenience store—had succumbed to a particularly violent gust of wind two blocks ago. It had turned inside out with a sickening pop, leaving her with a broken spoke and a damp blazer. Her uniform felt heavy, the white fabric clinging uncomfortably to her skin, and her mind was still a chaotic mess of the "integration by parts" Morti had shown her two days ago.
She looked at her watch. Fifteen minutes left. If she ran, she’d arrive looking like a drowned rat, her notes probably smeared into illegible ink. If she stayed, she’d miss the most important review of the semester.
Suddenly, the air around her changed. The scent of the rain was pushed aside by a familiar, heavy aroma—cedarwood, bitter black coffee, and the faint, lingering hint of cigarette smoke that seemed to cling to the fibers of a heavy hoodie.
"Staring at the rain won't make the coefficient of friction higher on the pavement. Madudulas ka lang."
Haizel jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. She turned to find Morti standing behind her. He looked even more exhausted than he had in the library, the dark circles under his eyes like bruised shadows. He was wearing a black hoodie today, the hood pulled down to reveal hair that was artfully disheveled from a day spent leaning over drafting tables.
Even in his state of obvious fatigue, he possessed a terrifyingly calm aura. While everyone else was scurrying around, panicked by the downpour, Morti stood like a pillar.
He looked at the chaos of the storm the way a mathematician looks at a complex equation—with a detached, analytical interest.
"Morti! I mean... Morti-ssi? Morti-sunbaenim?" she teased, her voice higher than usual as she tried to mask the way her pulse was hammering against her ribs.
Morti rolled his eyes, a ghost of a smirk appearing on his lips. "Stop watching K-dramas. It's just Morti. Why are you still here? Grade 12 should be home by now, doing their TikToks or whatever you kids do."
"Grabe ka sa kids! Research Capstone and Calculus review kaya ang inatupag ko," Haizel defended, her lips forming a natural pout. She found it unfairly easy to talk to him, despite his icy exterior. "And for your information, I'm stuck. My umbrella died a heroic death."
Morti looked at the pathetic, mangled umbrella in her hand. He let out a long, weary sigh—the kind of sigh a man makes when he knows he's about to do something that will delay his own carefully curated schedule.
"Saan ang building mo?"
"Engineering Block. Room 402," she said, her eyes widening with a sudden, desperate hope.
Morti paused, his brow furrowing. "Engineering Block? Bakit nandoon ang STEM?"
"Overcrowded ang Senior High building. They borrowed some rooms from the CE department for our electives."
Morti groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Of course. Kaya pala maingay sa hallway namin lately. Come here. Sumabay ka na."
He opened a massive, professional-grade black golf umbrella. It was big enough to shelter a small family, or perhaps a very expensive piece of surveying equipment. He didn't wait for her; he took two long, confident strides into the sheets of rain.
"Wait! Morti, sandali!" Haizel scrambled after him, ducking under the wide, dark canopy.
Because of the wind’s unpredictable lurches, she had to stand closer to him than she ever had to anyone. Her shoulder was pressed firmly against the heavy fabric of his sleeve. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, a stark, comforting contrast to the biting cold of the rain. He was tall—impossibly tall up close—and Haizel realized with a start that her head only reached his shoulder.
As they walked, Haizel found herself unable to look anywhere but at him. She watched the way his hand gripped the handle of the umbrella—steady, unyielding, his veins slightly prominent against the back of his hand.
How can someone look so calm while the world is literally flooding? she wondered.
She looked at his profile. His jaw was set, a sharp line that seemed to cut through the grey afternoon. Even his eyelashes were thick and dark, catching tiny droplets of mist. He moved with a purpose, his steps calculated to avoid the deepest puddles, guiding her through the storm as if he were navigating a blueprint.
There was a strange, magnetic grace to him. He wasn't "pretty" in the way the boys in her class tried to be with their styled hair and trendy clothes. Morti was handsome in a structural sense—solid, functional, and effortlessly striking.
He was a masterpiece of geometry and grit.
"So..." Haizel started, her voice sounding small against the drumming of the rain. "Kamusta 'yung plate mo? 'Yung structural analysis?"
Morti didn't look at her, his eyes focused on the path ahead. "Survived. I slept for two hours. Then I had to defend a project in Geotechnical Engineering. My brain feels like it’s in a state of plastic deformation."
"Plastic deformation?"
"Permanent damage," he simplified, his voice dropping into that low, vibrating hum she’d heard in the library. "Hindi na babalik sa original shape."
Haizel laughed, the sound bright and musical despite the gloom. "Ang drama mo. But seriously, thank you for the help last time. My teacher asked who taught me the shortcut, and I said it was a 'grumpy engineer' from the 4th floor."
Morti finally looked down at her. The wind was spraying mist against his face, but he didn't flinch. Haizel noticed then that he was holding the umbrella almost entirely over her side. His left shoulder was getting absolutely soaked, the black fabric of his hoodie turning a heavy, saturated charcoal. He was sacrificing his own comfort for hers without even mentioning it.
"Grumpy? I'm not grumpy. I'm just optimized. I don't waste energy on useless small talk."
"Then why are you walking me to my building?" Haizel countered, a playful, daring glint in her eyes. "Useless small talk din 'to, 'di ba? Inefficient use of your time."
Morti stopped walking abruptly. They were right in the middle of the open courtyard, surrounded by a curtain of falling water. He turned to face her, his dark eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch.
The wind blew a stray, wet strand of hair across Haizel’s face, stinging her cheek. Before she could move, Morti reached out. His free hand, cold from the rain but steady as a rock, gently tucked the hair behind her ear.
His touch felt like a live wire—cold on the surface, but sending a surge of heat directly into her skin. For a moment, the sound of the rain faded. There was only the smell of cedarwood and the sight of his dark, tired eyes looking at her as if she were a problem he couldn't quite solve.
"Dahil baka magkasakit ka," he said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a low growl. "And if you get sick, you'll fail your Calculus. If you fail, my tutoring session was a waste of time. I hate inefficient results."
Haizel’s heart sank slightly. Inefficient results? Was that all she was? A line in his ledger?
"Is that all? Logical reasoning lang?" she challenged, her voice trembling just a fraction.
Morti looked away, his jaw tightening so hard she could see the muscle leap. "Engineering is all about logic, Haizel. Huwag mong lagyan ng variables na wala naman doon."
They reached the Engineering Block a moment later. He stood at the base of the stairs, shaking the water off his umbrella with a sharp, practiced motion. He looked back to his "cold" persona, the shield of the 4th-year student firmly back in place.
"Go. Baka ma-late ka pa," he said, his voice once again flat and analytical.
"Morti!" she called out as she started to climb the stairs, turning back at the first landing.
He looked up, the black umbrella held at his side like a folded wing.
"Your left shoulder is wet," she pointed out, gesturing to the soaked fabric. "Logic dictates you should have shared the umbrella 50/50. You were inefficient. You let your own 'structural integrity' suffer for a Grade 12 student."
She flashed him a bright, mischievous grin—a smile that felt like a burst of sunlight in the middle of a typhoon—before disappearing into the hallway.
Morti stood there for a long moment, the rain continuing to splash against his boots. He reached up and touched his soaked shoulder, then looked at his hand—the same hand that had just tucked a strand of hair behind a girl's ear.
"Anak ng..." he whispered to himself, a genuine, tired smile finally breaking through his mask of indifference. "She's a variable I didn't calculate for."
He turned back into the rain, but for the first time in months, the weight of his blueprints didn't feel quite so heavy.
- Writer
