It happened a few weeks before the next semester started, the same time everything seemed to fall apart again.
Jessica’s hours had been cut. Sales were down. Tourists had left. The Malate branch no longer needed extra staff and this is her last shift for the branch,
Her final pay barely covered rent. She had ₱500 left after groceries. Tuition payment was due in ten days.
And back home in Nueva Ecija, things were worse.
Liza’s asthma had flared again. Her mother said it like an apology, as if being sick was something to be sorry for. The hospital visits were becoming more frequent, the medicine more expensive. Every time Jessica called, she could hear the fatigue in her mother’s voice, that fragile tone of hope that always cracked halfway through.
“Jess, we’re trying,” her mother said
