HEY, NEIGHBOR!

Flashback — A Decision Made

The soft hum of the city streets below barely reached my ears as I leaned against the window, watching the rain blur the world outside. It was already my third day in this new apartment, and the silence was still suffocating. I hadn’t yet adjusted to the loneliness—the quiet that followed me everywhere like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

The walls echoed too much. The ticking clock, the creak of the floor, even the drip of the bathroom faucet—they all sounded louder than they should’ve. Maybe it wasn’t the apartment that was too quiet. Maybe it was me.

My phone buzzed again on the small table beside my mattress, screen lighting up with yet another missed call. I didn’t move. I didn’t have to check to know who it was. Mom… or Dad. Probably wondering why I hadn’t called back.

But I couldn’t. Not yet. I wasn’t ready to hear their voices. Not until I felt like I belonged somewhere. Not until I had proof that leaving was the right thing.

Because even now, I still questioned it.

The decision to leave wasn’t impulsive, but it had felt like ripping a piece of myself away. I had nothing but a suitcase, barely enough savings to last a month, and a heart full of uncertainty. And, like it always does when I’m overwhelmed, my mind drifted back to the day it all broke.

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FLASHBACK

It had only been a few weeks ago. Just days after graduation.

I remember standing at the front gate of our house, feeling proud—excited. I had my graduation cap in one hand and my diploma pressed tight to my chest. I’d even printed extra copies of my pictures because I knew how much my mom liked to hang them on the fridge.

But I didn’t even make it past the hallway.

“I told you, she needs to focus on finding a job, not this university nonsense!” Dad’s voice cracked like thunder from the living room.

“She needs time to decide. We should support her! Why can’t you just be happy for her?” Mom replied, her voice firmer than I’d ever heard it.

My feet froze on the welcome mat. The air was tense—sharp. I felt like I was intruding on a war that had been raging in secret, one that I had accidentally set off just by existing.

Then Dad’s gaze landed on me. “I’m tired of this, Liana. We’ve talked about this. College is a waste of time. You don’t need that degree to live here.”

I wanted to say something. I really did. But no words came out.

Mom’s eyes flicked to mine. She looked like she wanted to cry.

That moment was enough. Enough to feel like everything I thought I knew about home had shifted.

I was the daughter who always followed the rules. The one who never asked for more. But this time, I had dared to dream. I had dared to want something for myself.

And it made me the problem.

So, I walked out.

No tears. No shouting. Just the sound of the door clicking shut behind me.

A tear slipped down my cheek now, in the present. I wiped it away quickly with the sleeve of my hoodie.

I made a choice. And no matter how hard it gets, I have to live with it. Because deep down, I know I left for a reason. I left to build something for myself—even if I didn’t know what it was yet.

When I came back to the city, I thought I could go back to my old apartment. But life didn’t make it that easy. My lease had expired, and the rent had gone up. I couldn’t afford it anymore. So I had to find a new place—fast.

That’s how I ended up here.

It wasn’t perfect. The walls were thin, the kitchen tiles were cracked, and the ceiling fan made a weird clicking noise when it spun. But it was mine. And it was near the university I had applied to.

If only they would reply.

Every day, I checked my inbox. Every night, I went to bed hoping tomorrow would bring an answer.

END OF FLASHBACK

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The phone buzzed again.

Another call from Mom.

I sighed and turned off the screen. I checked the Wi-Fi next, half-expecting disappointment.

And, of course—"No Internet."

I groaned, letting my head fall back dramatically against the edge of the window frame.

“Seriously?”

Rain still drizzled outside, soft and steady, matching the way my heart felt—unsettled. Like the world was holding its breath along with me.

But then, like a cruel joke, the Wi-Fi suddenly came back to life. Four bars. Full signal.

I shook my head with a dry laugh. “Figures.”

I turned back to the mess behind me—half-empty boxes, unfolded clothes, unopened grocery bags. I grabbed the last pile of clothes and started folding. One sock. One shirt. One blanket at a time.

Piece by piece, it started to feel like maybe I was building something.

Then it happened.

Ding!

I paused. Slowly reached for my phone. Another call?

No.

[1 New Email: University of Northbridge Admissions Office]

My breath caught in my throat.

My fingers shook slightly as I tapped it open.

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From: admissions@northbridgeuniv.edu.ph

To: liana.everett23@gmail.com

Subject: Congratulations! University of Northbridge Admission Update

Dear Ms. Liana A. Everett,

Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Bachelor of Arts in Communication program at the University of Northbridge for the upcoming academic year.

Your first-day orientation and initial class schedule will begin today, Monday, at 1:00 PM, held at the university’s Main Auditorium, Building A. Kindly bring any valid ID, a copy of this email (digital or printed), and wear smart-casual attire. Attendance is required.

We look forward to welcoming you to the Northbridge family!

Best regards,

Admissions Office

University of Northbridge

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“Today?” I blinked at the screen.

10:47 AM.

“Shoot!”

I launched off the floor like it was on fire, nearly knocking over the box I had just packed. My heart thundered as I rushed to my closet, pulling hangers left and right. I needed something—anything—that looked halfway decent.

“Smart casual, smart casual,” I muttered like a chant. “I don’t even own an iron.”

After tearing apart my limited wardrobe, I finally landed on a white collared blouse and a pair of black pants. Simple, clean—acceptable.

I ran to the bathroom, nearly slipping on a towel. Cold water hit my skin as I turned on the shower, and I stood there for a second, just breathing.

This was it.

No more waiting. No more wondering.

My new life was calling—and it started today.

Ready or not… I was answering.