STARS' DON'T GLOW ALONE

CHAPTER 3

The rain did not let up. It fell in heavy, unrelenting sheets, soaking through my uniform and seeping into every seam of my bag until the weight of it pulled at my shoulders. I kept walking, my sneakers squelching in puddles that blurred the line between asphalt and gutter, my eyes stinging from a mix of cold raindrops and fresh tears I refused to wipe away. Behind me, the lights of my parents’ house glowed warm and golden through the storm—so close, yet farther away than any star I had ever studied. Ahead lay only darkness, unfamiliar streets, and the terrifying silence of a future I had not even begun to imagine.

I had nowhere to go.

That truth settled heavier than the rain itself. I could not turn to Gavin; he had made it clear he would rather erase us than face the mess we had made. I could not burden Mia—her parents already worked too hard, and inviting a pregnant, homeless girl into their home without warning would be too much to ask. I could think of no aunt, no cousin, no old family friend who would take me in after hearing what I had done. To everyone I knew, I was suddenly the girl who had ruined everything, the shame no one wanted to be seen with.

So I walked. I walked until my legs ached and my lungs burned with every breath of damp, freezing air. When I could no longer feel my toes, I ducked under the narrow overhang of an old closed convenience store, huddling into the corner as far away from the wind as I could get. I pulled my wet jacket tighter around me, then pressed both hands gently over my stomach.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the dark, my voice trembling so much I could barely hear it myself. “I’m so sorry your first home out there is this cold, this wet, this lonely. But please… hold on for me. Just a little longer. I’ll find us somewhere warm. I promise.”

There was no answer, of course. They were still so small, just tiny sparks of life, completely unaware of the world that had already turned its back on them. But saying it out loud made me feel a little less broken. It reminded me that I was not fighting just for myself anymore. I was fighting for two beating hearts that trusted me completely.

I spent what felt like hours there, shivering so hard my teeth chattered, watching cars pass by like blurs of light through the downpour. No one stopped. No one even glanced my way. Everyone had homes to get to, families waiting behind locked doors, warm meals and dry beds. Everyone except me.

When the rain finally slowed to a fine drizzle, I stood up stiffly and kept moving. By some miracle, I remembered an old woman I had met once at the observatory—Aling Nena, the caretaker’s sister, who lived in a small rented room at the edge of the city market. She had always been kind to me, sharing hot pandesal while I waited for Gavin to finish basketball practice, listening quietly while I rambled about planets and nebulae. I did not know if she would help me, but she was the only faint hope I had left.

It took me nearly an hour to reach the narrow alley where she lived. The buildings here were old and cramped, stacked close together like they were leaning on one another for support. I climbed the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor and hesitated before her door, my hand hovering over the knocker. What if she turned me away too? What if everyone did?

I knocked anyway.

Footsteps shuffled closer, and the door creaked open a c***k. Aling Nena’s eyes widened when she saw me—dripping wet, hair plastered to my face, eyes swollen red.

“Elara? Child, what in heaven’s name happened to you? Come in, come in quickly before you catch your death!”

She pulled me inside immediately, not asking a single question until she had wrapped me in a thick dry blanket and pressed a steaming mug of ginger tea into my hands. Her small room was humble—one bed, a rickety table, a single window—but it smelled of dried herbs and wood smoke, and it was warm. So incredibly warm.

I sat huddled on the edge of her bed, and it all spilled out then: the test, Gavin’s reaction, my parents’ anger, the door slamming shut behind me. I told her everything, choking back sobs until my chest felt ready to split open.

When I finished, Aling Nena did not shout. She did not lecture. She simply sat beside me, patted my shoulder gently, and sighed.

“People are afraid of what they don’t understand,” she said softly. “Your parents saw their plans falling apart, and they lashed out instead of reaching out. That does not make what they did right—but fear makes cruel people out of even the kindest hearts sometimes. And that boy… well, some people are only strong when the sun is shining. They run when the storm comes.”

She paused, looking straight at me with eyes that had seen too much of life to be easily surprised.

“But you, Elara… you stood your ground. You chose life even when everyone else told you to throw it away. That takes more courage than most will ever have. You can stay here as long as you need. The room is small, and I don’t have much, but you will never be turned away from my door.”

Relief hit me so hard I almost collapsed. I grabbed her hand and pressed it to my forehead, tears spilling over again—this time, tears of gratitude.

For the next few weeks, I built a fragile new routine. Aling Nena’s space was tight, and we had very little money between us, but we made it work. I borrowed her old phone to message Mia, who snuck extra school supplies and small bags of food to me whenever she could. I stopped going to class openly; I could not bear the stares, the whispers, the chance of running into Gavin or my parents. Instead, I borrowed textbooks from Mia and studied late into the night by the light of a single lamp, determined not to let my dreams die just because my path had changed.

But my body was changing too, and it brought struggles I had never expected.

The nausea grew worse, not better. Some mornings I could not keep down even a sip of water, and I would retch until my ribs ached. I grew dizzy climbing stairs, exhausted after walking just a few hundred meters. At first I thought it was stress, or lack of food, or just the usual misery of early pregnancy. But when I went to the free clinic for my first check-up, the doctor’s expression turned serious as she ran her hands gently over my still-flat belly.

“Elara,” she said, looking up at me over the rim of her glasses, “based on what I’m feeling and the ultrasound we did… I think you might be carrying twins.”

Twins.

The word hung in the air like a heavy stone. I stared at her, my mind going blank. One baby already felt like a mountain I had to climb alone. Two? How on earth would I ever manage two?

“It explains why you’re so sick, why you’re so tired so fast,” she continued gently. “It puts twice the strain on your body. You need more food, more rest, more regular check-ups—and that means more money too. I know it’s hard, but you have to take extra care of yourself now.”

I walked back to the alley in a daze, one hand pressed unconsciously to my stomach. Two little lives. Two heartbeats. Two reasons to keep fighting, even when every part of me wanted to lie down and give up.

I started taking odd jobs wherever I could find them. I washed clothes for families living on the upper floors, scrubbed floors at the market before dawn, sorted dried fish at the stall nearby until my hands cracked and ached. Every peso I earned went straight to rice, eggs, milk, and the vitamins the doctor said were essential. Many nights I went to sleep hungry myself, just so there would be enough for the two of them growing inside me.

Once, I saw Gavin again.

It was nearly two months after I had left home. I was carrying a heavy bundle of laundry back to the market, my back screaming in protest, when I looked up and saw him walking along the sidewalk just a few meters away. He looked the same—same messy hair, same honey-colored eyes—but there was a slump to his shoulders I had never seen before. He was talking to someone, glancing around distractedly, and for a split second our gazes met.

His eyes went wide. He stopped walking, his mouth opening like he wanted to say my name.

My heart lurched painfully. For a foolish moment I thought he would cross the street, ask how I was, offer help. Instead, he looked away quickly, turned his head, and hurried on as if he had never seen me at all.

I gripped the bundle tighter until my knuckles turned white, and kept walking too. I did not cry this time. I just felt something harden inside me, something quiet and unbreakable. Fine, I thought. You don’t want to see us? Then we will become something so amazing you will regret looking away for the rest of your life.

As the weeks turned into months, my belly began to show. I wrapped loose shawls around myself, but there was no hiding it completely. Neighbors whispered when I passed. Some offered extra fruit or kind words; others crossed the street to avoid me. But I held my head high. Every kick, every flutter I felt deep inside was proof that I was not failing. I was surviving. We were surviving.

Late at night, when Aling Nena was asleep and the city finally went quiet, I would sit by the window and trace the familiar patterns of stars through gaps between buildings. I would tell Lance and Lyra stories about them—about how stars are born in darkness, how they burn brightest when they have nothing else to lean on, how even the smallest light can guide you all the way home.

“I don’t have much to give you right now,” I whispered to them one night, resting both hands on my rounded stomach as a tiny foot pressed back against my palm. “I can’t promise fancy things, or easy days, or a perfect family with a mother and father who live under the same roof. But I promise you this: I will never leave you. I will never choose anything over you. And together… we will build something beautiful. I swear it.”

Outside, the wind blew soft and cool. Somewhere far above, a shooting star streaked across the dark. I closed my eyes and made no wish for myself, no wish for the boy who had walked away, no wish for the parents who had shut their door. I wished only for health, for strength, and for the day I would finally get to hold both my children in my arms.

I did not know what would come tomorrow. I did not know if I would ever finish school, if I would ever find a steady job, if I would ever be truly happy again. But for the first time since that terrible night outside Gavin’s gate, I did not feel lost. I had a purpose now, clearer than any star chart I had ever drawn.

I was Elara Faye Marquez. I was seventeen, alone in the world, carrying two hearts that beat just for me. And whatever storms came next… I would face them standing up.