Beyond the Beat

Chapter 1 "Is this your final decision, Ms. Regala?” Dean Ruby's voice was heavy with a sadness that mirrored my own. Her brow was furrowed, and her pointed glasses perched precariously on her nose as she looked at me. I could feel her unspoken plea, her desperate hope that I'd change my mind. But this wasn’t my decision. It was theirs. My parents. And I was nothing more than a pawn in their carefully orchestrated game. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied, the word barely a whisper. I offered a small, tight smile, a shield to hide the gaping wound in my chest. A futile attempt, I knew. “Okay then.” Dean Ruby rose, offering a slight, almost defeated bow. It was as if she were acknowledging my fate, a fate she couldn’t change, despite her own objections. As Dean Ruby gathered my documents, such as my transfer credentials, transcript of records, good moral certificate, and the rest of the meticulously prepared paperwork. I sat in silence, a hollow ache spreading through my core. I felt empty, like the world had crumbled around me, even though I knew I had no control over any of this. These unexpected things might ruin my life. They are already ruining it. Was this really their decision? To tear me away from Ateneo? My second year in Political Science had barely begun, and I’d only just finished my freshman year here. They said I was wasting my potential, that they saw me as an asset for law school. But those words were a flimsy veil, a pathetic attempt to conceal the truth: I had no voice in my own life. My education, my very future, was being dictated by others. “Ms. Regala?” “Po?” I responded, fighting back a wave of exhaustion. My expression, I knew, was blank, devoid of the emotions raging within. I willed myself to project indifference, to deny them the satisfaction of seeing my pain. Dean Ruby Natividad was a public lawyer before life, in its cruel irony, forced her to leave the profession. She was known for being strict but fair, with a kindness that flickered beneath her stern facade. Her grey pixie cut framed a face distinguished by a pointed nose, freckles scattered like secrets across plump cheeks, and lips painted a defiant maroon. She carried herself with a quiet elegance, a silent strength that only amplified my own feelings of helplessness. “Here are your papers.” She extended the folder, and I accepted it with a sense of irrevocable finality. “Thank you, ma’am,” I murmured, the words barely audible, lost in the suffocating silence of the office. “Good luck on your next journey, Ms. Regala. Your new university is lucky to have you.” I offered a sad smile, a ghost of happiness that didn't reach my eyes. “I hope my parents see my worth someday too,” I whispered under my breath, a bitter truth escaping my lips before I could stop it. I turned and fled, needing to escape the suffocating weight of her pity. As I walked out of the building, the goodbye felt irrevocably permanent. A cold fist clenched around my heart, squeezing the air from my lungs. I had foolishly imagined a different future, a future where I thrived here, surrounded by friends and mentors who understood me. But life, it seemed, had other, more cruel plans in store for me. Ateneo was more than just a school, it was a hallowed, Catholic institution, a place where I had found a fleeting sense of belonging, a fragile community. I was proud, achingly proud, to be an Atenean, even if only for a short time. Now, that connection was being severed, torn apart without my consent. “Lux in Domino.” Light in the Lord. The words, whispered as I walked past the gate, felt like a hollow promise, a cruel reminder of the light being extinguished in my own life. They mocked me, reminding me of the faith I was struggling to hold onto. “Did you pack your things already, Lumi?” My father’s voice was a cold blade, honed to perfection, slicing through the fragile peace I had managed to create. His eyes, hard and unyielding, were fixed on the road. He didn’t even bother to glance my way, as if I were an inanimate object, a mere inconvenience. “Yes, Dad.” My voice was just as cold, carefully controlled, each word a calculated defense. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing the turmoil churning inside me, the volcano threatening to erupt. I couldn’t stop my hands from clenching into tight fists in my lap, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. Each beat of my heart was a heavy drum, echoing the crushing weight in my chest, a relentless rhythm of despair. It’s so hard to pretend that you’re okay, when you’re shattering into a million pieces inside. Not just in my heart, not just in my soul, but in the very essence of who I am. I'm being erased, piece by piece. “Good. Our flight is at 12 pm to Mindanao. Your apartment is all set there, and your allowance too. Your mother prepared it for you,” he added, his tone devoid of any warmth or affection. He might as well have been discussing a business transaction, detailing the logistics of a deal that had already been sealed. I simply nodded, a silent act of defiance, a small rebellion against the suffocating control he wielded. I bit back the tears that threatened to spill, tears of rage, of exhaustion, of a bone-deep despair I couldn’t dare reveal. They would not see me break, not now, not ever. Were they truly this desperate to be rid of me? Had I become such a burden, such an inconvenience, that they were willing to uproot my entire life, to banish me to the far corners of the Philippines? No matter what I did, would they ever see me as their daughter, or would I forever be a mistake, a stain on their perfect image? Tang ina. Goddamn it. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe, finally, I would taste the freedom that had been denied to me for so long, a freedom stolen by their suffocating control. Maybe distance would finally allow me to breathe. “Make me proud, Lumi.” His words were a command, delivered with the force of an unspoken threat, a lifetime of expectations crammed into three small words. They were a chain, binding me to their ambitions, their desires, their distorted vision of who I should be. Again, I offered only a nod, a puppet with its strings firmly held, a marionette dancing to a tune I didn't choose. Inside, I screamed. When we arrived at the house, the oppressive silence was broken by the familiar scent of Aling Nita’s cooking . My yaya, more mother than caregiver, rushed to greet me, her eyes filled with a love that my own parents seemed incapable of expressing. “Lumi, anak ko, my child, I will miss you so much.” Her arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace, a haven in the storm raging within me. In her arms, I felt a flicker of the warmth I craved, the unconditional affection that was so rarely offered, a fleeting connection to a family that truly saw me. I offered a small, genuine smile, a rare and precious gift I reserved only for her. I allowed myself to be held, to absorb the warmth, the unconditional affection that radiated from her. In Aling Nita's arms, I finally felt the love of a mother, a stark contrast to the cold indifference I received from my own. “I will miss you too,” I said, my voice thick with unshed tears. I kissed her forehead, stroking her back gently, a gesture of comfort and gratitude. At that moment, she was the only family I had left. “Sabi mo yan, ha? You’ve really grown up, dalaga ka na talaga.” She said, her voice choked with emotion, though she forced a watery smile, trying to mask the sadness that mirrored my own. “Tss. Opo.” Yes, I am. I replied, a flicker of warmth entering my voice, an unusual tenderness that surprised even me. I was a woman on the verge of being broken, forced to shoulder burdens far beyond my years. “Oh, I've already prepared your meal, because Sir said your flight is later. Come." She led me to the dining table, her hand gentle on my arm, a silent offer of comfort and support. “Thanks, Ate Nita.” I said sincerely. She was one of the few people I could be truly vulnerable with, the only person in this house who saw beyond the expectations and demands, who recognized the pain that I tried so hard to hide. “Sus, you’re still just a child, to me.” And you are very welcome. She replied, pinching my cheek playfully, her eyes filled with a bittersweet affection, a mixture of pride and sorrow. She knew what I was going through, she understood the sacrifices I was being forced to make, and her heart ached for me. As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the cold reality of my situation crashed down on me, threatening to drown me in its despair. The face staring back was a mask of carefully constructed indifference, hiding the turmoil that threatened to consume me. I’m 5’8” tall, fair-skinned, slim and thin. Bob cut hair, straight, silky, with curtain bangs framing a face that, according to some, was "cute", pinkish cheeks, plump lips. Some even said I resembled Lily Collins, but with a touch of Korean flair. Yet, when I wore maroon, the Ateneo color, I transformed. The soft features hardened, became sophisticated, as if the color itself breathed confidence into my very being, projecting an image of strength that belied the fragility within. I tried to smile, but the expression felt hollow, a grotesque imitation. The joyless curve of my lips didn’t reach my eyes, which remained shadowed, haunted by the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled dreams. This is it, Lumi. A ticket out of this hell they call home. A chance to breathe, to escape the suffocating expectations. A chance to be…someone else, someone free from their control. But at what cost? I whispered to myself, the words barely audible, lost in the echo chamber of my own despair. With each forced breath, it felt like a part of me was dying, a slow, agonizing surrender to a fate I hadn't chosen. This was not freedom. This was exile. And as I packed the last of my belongings, a single thought echoed in my mind: They may think they're getting rid of me, but they're wrong. They're creating a monster.