The sun glared off the metal rooftops, casting wavering heat ripples over the street.
Eleanor paused in front of her high school gates, pressing her palm to the cool paint of the metal fence.
It felt surreal to stand here again—to see the cracked sidewalk where she and Bella used to play hopscotch, the security guard grumbling about students sneaking out to buy fishballs.
Students streamed past her, laughing, chattering about exams, crushes, and lunch.
She blinked away the memories of the hospital—the beeping monitors, the sterile white walls—and tried to focus on the voices around her.
I'm sixteen again. I'm back. I'm alive—and so is Ma.
She stepped into the courtyard and felt an odd ache in her chest.
Everything looked smaller.
The benches where she and her friends had once loitered seemed too low. The canteen smelled exactly the same—a delicious mix of frying lumpia, sweet spaghetti sauce, and steamed rice.
And there, over by the side of the basketball court, was the tall figure of Elias Vergara.
Eleanor stopped in her tracks.
Elias was wearing the school's blue-and-white uniform, sleeves slightly rolled up, hair tousled as always.
He had grown taller even in the span of a summer. His skin was lightly tanned from basketball practice, and when he smiled, the dimple on his left cheek appeared—an annoying feature that had once made Eleanor blush uncontrollably.
Her breath caught as she remembered how, in the original timeline, she'd always meant to tell Elias how she felt.
But she'd put it off.
Life had gotten in the way.
Her mother's health had deteriorated. Then Papa was arrested.
By the time Eleanor could think about love again, it was too late.
She clutched her bag to her chest and felt a single hot tear slip down her cheek.
I can't waste this chance. Not this time.
"Hoy!"
A voice cut through her thoughts.
She turned and nearly collided with Bella, who arrived panting, clutching her binder to her chest.
"Grabe, Ate! You're walking so slow! Akala ko na-possess ka na naman."
Eleanor laughed despite herself.
"Hindi ako na-possess. I'm just… thinking."
Bella squinted suspiciously.
"About Elias, noh?"
"Ha? Hindi ah!" Eleanor protested, a bit too loudly.
Bella rolled her eyes. "Sure ka. You're so obvious, Ate. Kahit si Alex alam na crush mo 'yun."
Eleanor flushed. "Shut up, Bella."
They joined the flood of students heading toward the classrooms.
Alex popped up beside them, hair messy, half his shirt untucked.
"Ate, can I borrow ten pesos? Bibili ako ng yema."
"You already have baon!" Eleanor scolded.
Alex grinned. "Eh, kulang."
They moved through the hallways, Bella complaining about their math teacher, Alex chasing a friend down the corridor.
Eleanor let herself simply exist for a few minutes.
Just a teenage girl surrounded by noise, petty worries, and ordinary teenage chaos.
In class, she stared at her notebook, mind elsewhere.
She kept glancing outside where Elias sat on the bleachers, laughing with his teammates.
During recess, her friends gathered around her table, chattering about crushes, teachers, and the upcoming foundation day.
"So, Eleanor," her friend Joan whispered. "Sabi ni Elias gusto raw niya sumayaw sa Cotillion this year. Sasayaw ka ba?"
Eleanor froze.
She remembered this conversation.
In her old life, she'd said no because she was embarrassed.
Then everything had spiraled so quickly—her mother's hospitalizations, Papa Gabe's arrest—that Cotillion became irrelevant.
She opened her mouth to answer.
"I…"
But the words wouldn't come.
Joan tilted her head. "Uy, okay ka lang ba?"
Eleanor forced a smile. "Yeah. Just… sleepy."
After School
The sun was already lower in the sky when Eleanor and her siblings trudged home, bags dragging against the sidewalk.
They were halfway down the street when Eleanor slowed, feeling her throat tighten.
Ahead of them was the small sari-sari store where Mama Yana often bought extra ingredients for dinner.
She remembered standing here once, sobbing on her sixteenth birthday because she'd screamed at her mother for "being too controlling."
A fight she'd regretted every day since.
She glanced at Bella and Alex.
Bella was singing under her breath. Alex was kicking a rock along the gutter.
They deserve better than the pain we all went through.
She tightened her grip on her bag.
I'm going to change it. I don't know how… but I will.
Home Again
The smell of adobo welcomed them as they stepped into the house.
Mama Yana was in the kitchen, stirring a pot with fierce focus.
"Eleanor, ikaw na bahala sa sinangag ha. Gutom na gutom na 'tong mga 'to," she said, waving a wooden spoon threateningly.
"Yes, Ma," Eleanor said automatically, moving to the stove.
She poured leftover rice into the pan and added oil, garlic sizzling instantly.
It felt like muscle memory.
Alex poked Eleanor's side.
"Ate… hindi mo nasunog!"
"Hoy, tumahimik ka. Maghugas ka ng kamay!"
Yana bustled over, planting a kiss on Eleanor's temple.
"O, ang bait mo ngayon ha. Hindi ka nagrereklamo."
Eleanor laughed softly. "I want to help you, Ma."
Yana paused, eyeing her daughter.
"Hmm. May gusto ka sigurong hingin."
"No, Ma. Wala talaga."
But as they ate dinner, Eleanor noticed tiny things she'd missed before:
The way Yana pressed a hand to her side when she laughed too hard.
How sometimes she stared off as though lost in thought, before blinking herself back.
After the dishes were done, Yana collapsed onto the sofa with a tired sigh.
"Ay nako. Tumanda na talaga ako."
Eleanor sat beside her.
"You're not old, Ma."
Yana pinched her cheek. "Liar."
They fell quiet for a moment, listening to the TV in the background.
Alex and Bella were playing cards on the floor, bickering softly.
Papa Gabe came in from the porch, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Okay na 'yung gripo. Hindi na tumutulo," he declared triumphantly.
Yana smiled at him.
"Good job, mister."
Eleanor watched them exchange a look—a small, ordinary glance filled with years of quiet understanding.
It made her throat tighten.
She wondered if they knew how fragile all of this was.
Later, as they prepared for bed, Yana pulled Eleanor aside.
"Anak…"
Eleanor turned, surprised at her mother's gentle tone.
"May problema ba? You've been… parang malayo ang isip mo."
Eleanor hesitated.
Could I tell her the truth?
That she'd watched her mother die. That she'd stood in a hospital room beside her cold body. That Papa would go to prison in two years.
But she swallowed it all down.
"I'm okay, Ma. I just… I love you. A lot."
Yana's eyes softened.
"Ay nako. Drama. Sino nagturo sa'yo niyan?"
Eleanor laughed, tears in her eyes.
"You did, Ma."
As Yana pulled her into a tight hug, Eleanor thought of a verse her mother used to quote:
"God makes all things new."
And for the first time in years, she dared to hope it might be true.