Rodel was walking home with his cousin Neil when he saw her—and all he could do was sigh.

“Hey,” he called out.

Shaina turned, startled. She was busy washing a large pile of laundry.

“Our annoying adviser was looking for you today,” Rodel said, hands in his pockets.

“I—I’ll be coming in tomorrow,” Shaina replied quickly.

“Did you really have to lie?” Neil asked. “Did you really need to forge a signature?”

“What am I supposed to tell them?” Shaina shot back, her voice strained.

“Enough, Neil,” Rodel said firmly. Then he turned to Shaina. “Just make sure whatever you’re involved in doesn’t affect your studies. And… you need to start telling the truth. People are already talking.”

Shaina said nothing.

Rodel studied her quietly. She looked thinner. Tired.

“We’ll go ahead,” he said gently.

She nodded and returned to her laundry.

“See you tomorrow,” Neil said softly.

Rodel nodded and headed home.

Once inside, he closed the gate and went straight to his room. He still had to cook dinner—his mother wouldn’t be home until midnight, and no one else would do it but him.

I should start cooking now.

Their family wasn’t wealthy, but they managed. His mother often scolded him for being in the last section, insisting he was smart enough to be in the pilot class.

Truth is, I stay here because I like these people, he admitted to himself.
It’s also our fault our adviser gave up on us. We’re lazy—plain and simple.

Still, his thoughts drifted to their new adviser.

She’s patient. She scolds us, but she never gives up.

He checked the rice cooker. I should cook more rice.

Rodel attended private school only because of a government scholarship. It covered tuition—but not transportation, projects, or daily expenses.

That was why absences mattered.

Too many absences, and you lose everything.

He had warned Shaina many times. Mondays and Fridays—she was always gone.

She needed money.

He understood.

Life didn’t always give you choices.

“Son.”

He looked up, surprised.

“Mom? You’re home already?” he said, kissing her hand.

“Our boss didn’t make us work overtime today,” she said cheerfully. “I brought food.”

Rodel grabbed plates.

“Oh,” his mother added casually, “Shaina and her siblings will eat with us tonight.”

He nodded. His mother always had a soft heart. Shaina had two younger siblings to take care of.

Shaina stood awkwardly by the door.

“Go ahead,” Rodel said gently.

“Thank you,” she replied shyly, guiding her siblings inside.

“Let’s wait a bit,” Rodel said. “The rice isn’t done yet.”

His mother suddenly hugged him. “Thank you, son.”

He smiled and shook his head.

XXX

Mariely called Shaina to the faculty office.

“Come with me,” she said gently, leading her to the small room beside the faculty—quiet, private, safe.

Mariely sat down and motioned for Shaina to do the same. She took a breath before speaking.

“You know why I called you, right?”

“Y—Yes, Ma’am,” Shaina replied nervously. “Is it because of my absences?”

Mariely nodded. “You’re at risk of losing your scholarship. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

She softened her voice. “Is something bothering you? Do you have a problem at home?”

Shaina shook her head.

Mariely could tell she was holding something back—but she didn’t force it.

She respected her students’ boundaries.

“Can you give me your parents’ contact number?” Mariely asked gently. “In case I need to reach them.”

Shaina hesitated, then handed her a number.

Mariely frowned almost immediately. It didn’t match the one in the records.

“Is this really your parent’s number?” she asked carefully.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Shaina replied quickly. “I’m really sorry. I’ll try not to miss any more classes.”

Mariely sighed.

“You’re a smart girl,” she said sincerely. “I know I’ll see you in the pilot section someday—or at least the first section.”

Shaina stayed quiet, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Alright,” Mariely said softly, tapping her shoulder. “You may go back to class.”

“Thank you,” Shaina whispered before leaving.

Mariely watched her go, concern heavy in her chest.

Back in the faculty room, Veron approached.

“How was it?” she asked.

“I know she’s hiding something,” Mariely admitted. “But she’s not ready to talk.”

“Maybe she’s just shy,” Veron said. “Teenagers keep secrets.”

“I know,” Mariely sighed. “But what if it’s serious? What if we’re misjudging them?”

“Most of our students are on scholarships,” Veron reminded her. “We need to understand why they’re absent—so we can actually help.”

“You’re right,” Mariely nodded. “Maybe they’re still adjusting to me.”

The bell rang.

“I have class,” Veron said. “Lunch later?”

“I’m not waiting for you,” Mariely teased. “I’ll eat without you.”

Veron raised an eyebrow.

Mariely laughed.

Veron was her closest friend at work—the one who understood her. Maybe because they were both new. Maybe because they were both still learning.

The week passed quietly.

Until Friday.

As Mariely checked attendance, another excuse letter landed on her desk.

Mendez, Shaina.

She sighed and accepted it.