The next week arrived faster than she could say "fake illness."
It was Wednesday. Judgment Day.
And Dreena Mirafuentes had never prayed this hard in her entire life.
Not even during the PLE. Which, in hindsight, maybe she should have—because look where she was now. Spiraling. And one email away from being forced into hospital labor.
She had gone full Roman Catholic daughter. Dragged Dreven to the Carmelite Monastery in Mabolo. Offered eggs—a whole tray—to the cloistered sisters with one singular prayer: "Please let me fail the CVGH interview. I promise I will work when I'm ready. Maybe next month. Preferably in ten years. Definitely not this month."
She had refreshed her email every ten seconds since sunrise. Her hands were sweaty. Her brain was on loop. And her stomach was in knots—from anxiety, not fishballs. That was last week.
So when the notification pinged, she nearly threw her phone across the room.
Cebu Velez General Hospital Application
She clicked it.
Thank you for your interest, but we have selected a candidate more suited for the position.
She failed.
She didn't get the job.
SHE FAILED. SHE WAS REJECTED. SHE WAS FREE.
Dreena screamed like she'd just won the lottery and her soul back.
Yuki, peacefully napping at the foot of her bed, jumped like he saw the Second Coming. Dreena didn't care. She was reborn. She was delivered. The eggs worked.
She burst out of her room and ran downstairs like a girl in a teleserye finale.
Her parents were in the dining room getting ready for dinner.
And for some unholy reason, Wren Cordova was there.
She did not question why. Maybe her parents were feeding another stray. Maybe he showed up for free food. Maybe he just lived in their house now like the smug PGI demon that haunted her nightmares.
But today—today she was in too good a mood to care.
"Mamaaaa!" she beamed, throwing her arms around her mom like a child who had just won a school award.
"What?" April narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Did you finish that drama without me?"
"The eggs worked!"
"The what?"
Benjamin turned from setting the table. "Wait, are you talking about the tray of eggs that went missing?"
Just then, Dreven waltzed in through the garage door like the universe had orchestrated his comedic timing.
Perfect. Her audience was complete.
"I FAILED THE INTERVIEW!" Dreena announced with glee.
Her parents stared at her like she had announced a pregnancy out of wedlock.
She was grinning. Glowing. Practically levitating.
Dreven cackled. Wren looked far too amused for someone not officially part of this family.
April smacked her daughter's arm gently. Benjamin sighed like a man who had just watched his dreams for his daughter burn in real-time.
"You're the only person on Earth happy about being rejected, Dreena," Benjamin muttered, sinking into his seat.
"She's unhinged, Papa," Dreven said as he dropped his bag at the foot of the stairs. "Of course she's happy."
Dreena twirled on her way to the dining table, like a deranged ballerina released from prison.
"Thank God!"
"Thank Papa's tray of eggs," Dreven added helpfully.
Benjamin scowled. "You wasted twelve perfectly good eggs."
"I should've done that before the PLE," Dreena sighed, dreamily. "I was too confident that I'd fail, I didn't even think to pray."
April gave her another small smack.
Across from her, Wren—still in scrubs—looked like he was watching a car crash in slow motion. "You okay in the head? Do I need to call psych referrals?"
She turned to him with a sugar-sweet smile. "How about you? Are you okay in the head? Oh wait—you're not. My bad."
"Anak," April warned, pinching her side.
Wren just chuckled. "It's okay, Auntie. I'm used to her now."
"Mama, can we go to the cinema tomorrow?" Dreena turned her full charm on April, completely ignoring the fact that she had just celebrated unemployment.
"With whose money?" Benjamin asked as he placed the cup on the table.
"Yours, of course, Papa. She's a bum," Dreven answered, kissing their mom on the head as he passed. "Like a house cat with a medical license."
Benjamin kissed Dreven's head. "You wasted my eggs. And now you want to waste my money."
"Just take it out of my savings account," Dreena mumbled.
"Which your Mama and I built with sweat and blood?" Benjamin asked.
"You didn't sweat in Alaska, ga," April cut in, sipping her water.
Dreven choked on his food. Only April could humble Benjamin without blinking.
"I didn't mean literally, Melendrez."
"I know," April grinned.
Dreena snuggled beside her mom. "Let's hit the cinemas tomorrow, Mama? To celebrate?"
"Drech will probably send your CV to more hospitals by tonight," Dreven said, reaching for the chicken. "So yeah. Celebrate while you can."
"That colonial oppressor," Dreena muttered through gritted teeth. Wren snorted into his glass.
"I'll tell Drech to stop," Benjamin said calmly.
Dreena's eyes lit up. "I love you, Papa."
"I have a better solution," Benjamin added. His tone turned dangerously light. "I'll cut your credit card off if you don't find a job this month."
Everyone stopped.
"And," he continued with terrifying serenity, "you'll start paying off the bills you racked up with my credit."
Dreena froze. "What?"
Benjamin just raised his brow. That Mirafuentes brow. The final boss of all parental threats. The one that could cancel vacations, weddings, and even God's mercy if needed.
Dreena zipped her mouth. Slowly. Dramatically. Defeated.
"Try me, Dreena Therese. Try me," Benjamin said.
And just like that, the eggs cracked— so did her celebration.