Shiver Through Burn

Chapter 4

I woke up to the dull ache pulsing through my body, as if my bones were reminding me of what happened the night before. But I had no luxury of resting. I had to attend my classes. In my world, showing up was part of the performance.

I sat up slowly and stretched my body. The sun hadn’t come up yet, and neither had my energy. Though I wanted to sleep, I chose to get up to cook and apply my “props.” My life felt like a system—so much more tiring when there’s a script you have to follow. Sometimes, I wonder what it feels like to have a headache from too many choices. I just want to make my own decisions in life.

I left my apartment and walked to school. It wasn’t that far, and I was too lazy to bring my car, knowing I'd have to fight for a parking spot. As I entered the university gates, students greeted me back and forth. My social battery was already drained, but I had to keep up the facade. After all, I was the perfect daughter of Sebastian Guilermo.

I didn’t even know anymore if they were sincere or just going with the flow. I smiled, nodded, and gave the usual wave. But truthfully, my social battery was shot. It felt like walking down a red carpet I never asked for—this is what it’s like to be the child of a well-known politician. Every move you make is watched. Every word you say has an echo. And in the middle of it all, I had to pretend I was okay.

My classes weren’t until later in the afternoon, but I had to go early to finish some student council tasks. Leadership duties never sleep, especially when you’re the council president. Sometimes I feel more like a staff than a student.

"Soreia, I got the requirements you asked for. It’s in our office," Bien reported, hurrying over and handing me a thick brown envelope like we were in the middle of a press conference. She was panting slightly, cheeks pink, arms full of folders.

"And also—" she blurted, flipping open her planner with frantic fingers. "I already emailed the scanned copies to your university email. I printed extra hard copies too, just in case. I highlighted the parts you need to sign in red. Oh, and I also filled out the parts you usually forget, like the date and the submission reference number, and I attached sticky notes to remind you where to put your signature. Plus, I triple-checked if the dean signed the endorsement letter, and he did, but if you want, I also have a backup letter that’s pre-signed just in case something goes wrong—"

I blinked, almost overwhelmed just listening to her, while she kept going without breathing.

"—and I already asked Leila for two extra copies of the project proposal because sometimes the admins require it even if they don't say it, and I booked a courier to deliver the letter—"

"Bien Heaven," I interrupted, raising a delicate eyebrow as I gently grabbed her by the shoulders. Her eyes were still wide, like she was bracing for another checklist to appear out of nowhere.

I smiled wistfully. "I think you should take some rest and enjoy your date later."

The effect was immediate — she turned into a full-on flushed tomato, stuttering as she tried to process what I said.

"I—I—I mean, it’s just coffee! It's not even formal!" she squeaked, waving her hands frantically, but her ears were burning red.

I chuckled softly, loosening my grip and adjusting the envelope in my arms.

"Relax, Bien. You’ve already saved my life ten times over today," I said, tapping the envelope against her forehead lightly. "If you micromanage one more thing, Hellion might think you're planning your wedding already."

She gasped, mortified, and I only smirked playfully.

"Soreiaaa!" she whined, covering her face with her hands.

I was about to tease her further when she suddenly snapped, shifting from flustered to fuming.

"What did Hellion do again?" she demanded, dramatically lowering her clipboard and crossing her arms.

"Did that freak pester you again?"

I just stared at her, amused at how quickly she went into attack mode.

"Give your attention to that attention-seeking boyfriend of yours," I said, grining.

And just like a scene straight out of a drama, I gave her a gentle push toward where Hellion was lazily leaning against the hallway wall — looking every bit like some cheesy, cocky male lead.

The moment Bien got close enough, bam! — Hellion wrapped his arm around her waist without hesitation, grinning like a fool.

"Let go of me! I'm still mad at you!" Bien protested, slapping his arm lightly.

"I thought we were supposed to go on a date later?" Hellion whined, still not letting go.

"In your dreams," Bien huffed, turning her back dramatically, but the giddy smile she was hiding said otherwise.

From a few feet away, Hellion called out, "Hey, Pres! Can we submit our relationship status as part of our clearance?"

Without missing a beat, I smirked.

"Sure. Just attach two valid IDs."

Hellion scratched his head, laughing along with the other students who had started eavesdropping.

"I don’t have a valid ID! Do you accept digital national IDs?" he asked, dead serious.

The hallway burst into laughter, and Bien face-palmed so hard it looked like she was trying to teleport to another dimension.

I just shook my head fondly.

Same circus, different day.

Then came a familiar voice. "Ehem."

A hand slipped into mine and gave it a little squeeze. I didn’t need to turn around—I already knew who it was.

"Navida," I said with a smile.

"Sawadee-ni hao, fine shyt," she greeted with a dramatic wink.

"Vida," my eyebrows frowned when I saw her sunburned face. "Did the sun fight you directly?"

"I had a meet and greet with UV rays," she said, covering her cheeks. "I just wanted to enjoy Songkran, and then I got roasted alive."

"Was it worth it?"

"It was okay... until some local celeb saw me and gave me the stink eye! Maybe he thought I was some kind of charred barbecue!"

I tried not to smile, but it was hard. "You do kinda look crispy."

"Hey!" she gasped. "This is the face of someone who made eye contact with a Thai actor and forgot how to breathe!"

"Even if they’re handsome, they still don’t compare to Octavino," she added, dreamy-eyed.

I rolled my eyes. "Start pursuing him, please. Your secret admirer era has gone on long enough. You might as well make it a lifelong career."

"Excuse me?" she said, flipping imaginary hair. "Do you see this face? Me, going up to him first?"

She leaned in to act cute. I leaned back.

"You look like overcooked turkey."

Bien, still nearby, burst out laughing. "I second the motion!"

"Traitors! We all look hideous in the morning!" Navida shouted, clinging to my arm.

We continued walking down the hallway together.

"Am I not enough? Am I ugly? Am I replaceable?" she dramatically complained, as if I was the one who should feel embarrassed. I just kept walking, pretending I didn’t know the weirdo.

"You're so rude!" Navida yelled from behind me, running to catch up. I didn’t stop walking but slowed down so she could catch up. She hooked her arm with mine again and dramatically rested her head on my shoulder.

"Soreiaaaa," she whined, "I'm in love, but I'm in denial. What if he rejects me? I don't want to get hurt."

I glanced at her and rolled my eyes. "It hurts more when you don’t know if you have a chance than when you're rejected outright. At least with rejection, it’s over. You don’t spend years fantasizing."

I turned to her and held her shoulders. "And if you get rejected, just remember what Father Buddi said in his psalm, 'Rejections are Redirections.'"

I said it with a grin, but she looked like a sad puppy.

She gasped, clutching her chest like she’d just been walloped by Cupid on a sugar high. “That was a foul—my fragile heart can’t take hits like that!” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Fine, you win. But heads up: the instant I score a boyfriend, you’re not just invited to my wedding—you’re the maid of honor. Mess that up, and I’ll haunt you at the bachelorette party.”