The rhythmic sound of a knife against a wooden chopping board filled the small kitchen, blending with the faint sizzle of garlic frying in hot oil. The air smelled of home-steaming white rice, eggs cracking against the side of a bowl, the distinct aroma of fried dried fish crisping in the pan. A soft breeze drifted through the open window, carrying the distant crow of a rooster and the occasional chatter of early risers outside.

Leila descended the wooden stairs, careful to avoid the creaky step that always threatened to wake the entire house.

Her mother, Celia Ramirez, stood by the stove, her figure illuminated by the dim glow of the single kitchen light. She moved quickly, flipping the fish with one hand while stirring the eggs with the other, a well-practiced efficiency built over years of juggling motherhood and work.

"Good morning, Mom," Leila greeted, stepping forward to help.

Celia didn't glance up, focused on her cooking. "Morning. Get the plates."

Leila pulled out mismatched plates from the cupboard, setting them on their small, scratched dining table. The routine felt familiar, grounding. She arranged utensils beside each plate, pausing when she noticed the deep crease between her mother's brows as she skimmed through a thick bundle of test papers on the counter, red pen in hand.

"Failed another one?" Leila guessed.

Celia sighed, marking something with an irritated flick of her pen. "Half the class, actually."

Leila gave her a small smile. "At least you still have half left."

Celia huffed but didn't argue.

From the bedroom, a muffled groan echoed through the house.

"Amara, wake up your sister!" Celia called over her shoulder. "You're leaving in an hour."

A muffled reply came. "Five more minutes."

Leila rolled her eyes. Lies. Amara was awake-she just hated mornings.

She turned toward the couch, where Sofia, their youngest sister, sat curled under a thin blanket, absently flipping through TV channels. She wasn't really watching-her fingers clicked the remote too fast, eyes unfocused.

Leila hesitated.

Sofia used to wake up singing, twirling around the house, rehearsing lines from whatever play she had imagined herself in that week. Now, she barely spoke.

Something had changed, but Sofia wouldn't say what.

Before Leila could ask, a sudden vibration broke the silence.

Her mother's phone.

Celia wiped her hands on a towel before reaching for it, glancing at the screen before pressing it to her ear.

"Eduardo?"

Leila stiffened.

The room quieted. Even Amara finally shuffled out of the bedroom, her hair tangled from sleep.

Celia turned slightly away, voice lowering. "Yes, we're okay." A pause. "No, still nothing. You know how it is." Another pause. "Yes, I'll tell them."

And just like that, the call was over.

Leila swallowed. That was it?

Her mother placed the phone down without a word, but a few seconds later, the familiar ping of a message followed.

She didn't need to check.

Amara leaned over, peering at the screen. "Two-five."

Sofia muttered from the couch, "That's it?"

Celia exhaled slowly, rubbing her temple. "We'll manage."

Leila looked away, focusing on folding the last of her clothes.

It had to be enough.

The bus station was already crowded when they arrived. The scent of fried empanadas and freshly brewed coffee clung to the air, mingling with the sharp gasoline smell of buses idling in long lines. Vendors called out their final offers, weaving through clusters of departing students and their families.

Leila tightened her grip on her suitcase, nerves settling in her stomach.

This was it. University.

Some students hugged their parents, some were crying, others already laughing with new friends. The excitement, the energy-it felt foreign. Would she fit in here?

Beside her, Amara yawned, stretching dramatically. "I already miss home."

Leila snorted. "You were whining about leaving just this morning."

"Yeah, well, now I have to think. I'm not built for thinking."

Leila rolled her eyes, turning toward their mother, who was already fussing, straightening their collars, brushing invisible dust from their clothes.

"Call me when you arrive," Celia reminded them, her voice steady, but her eyes held the kind of worry only a mother could carry.

"We will," Amara promised.

Leila felt a light tug at her sleeve. She turned to see Sofia, hands stuffed in her hoodie pockets, gaze flicking away as soon as their eyes met.

"Don't... do anything dumb," Sofia muttered.

Leila raised a brow. "Me? Never."

Sofia huffed, rolling her eyes, but the corner of her lips twitched. It was the closest thing to a smile Leila had seen from her in weeks.

A loud honk signaled the bus's imminent departure.

With one last hug from their mother, Leila and Amara climbed aboard.

As the bus pulled away, Leila watched her mother and sister shrink in the distance, standing by the road, waving until they disappeared.

By the time Leila and Amara arrived at their rented apartment near the university, the sky had dimmed into deep blues and purples, the last traces of sunlight fading behind the rows of buildings. The city had a different kind of energy-busier, louder, and full of movement. Even at this hour, the streets were alive with the sound of honking jeepneys, the chatter of pedestrians, and the rhythmic clang of pots and pans from roadside eateries.

Leila pulled her suitcase behind her, the wheels catching on uneven pavement as she struggled to keep up with Amara, who walked a few steps ahead, humming to herself. The air smelled of grilled street food-barbecue skewers, fried bananas, and sweet corn-making her stomach tighten with hunger.

As they reached their apartment building, Amara stopped to stare at it. "This is it?" she asked, her voice laced with mild disappointment.

Leila glanced up at the three-story structure-it wasn't terrible, but it had seen better days. The paint was peeling in places, and the fluorescent light flickered at the entrance. The hallway leading to their unit was narrow, lined with identical brown doors.

"You were expecting a condo?" Leila said dryly, adjusting the strap of her backpack.

"I don't know... something a little more, I don't know, put together?" Amara muttered, poking at a crack in the wall with her finger.

Leila sighed. "We're here to study, not to live in a hotel. Come on, I'm exhausted."

She fished the key from her bag, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

The apartment was small, but it was hers. Two single beds, a narrow kitchen, a shared desk. It wasn't much, but it was a step forward-a place where she wasn't just a daughter or a sister, but someone on her own. The air was slightly stale, like no one had lived here in a while. Maybe that was a good thing. She needed a fresh start. Leila walked over and pushed them open, letting in the city's night breeze.

Amara dragged her suitcase inside and dropped onto the nearest bed with a dramatic sigh. "Okay, I officially hate moving."

"You literally didn't do anything but carry your bag," Leila pointed out, setting her own suitcase beside her bed.

"Excuse me, emotional labor is a real thing," Amara said, rubbing her temples. "I had to mentally prepare for this moment."

Leila snorted, shaking her head as she unzipped her suitcase.

Amara sat up, stretching. "You hungry? I saw some carinderias outside. I could really go for some tapsilog right now."

Leila's stomach growled at the mention of food, but she hesitated. She needed to check her funds before spending anything.

"Maybe later," she said. "I need to check something first."

Amara raised a brow. "Let me guess. Enrollment issues?"

Leila sighed and pulled out her phone. "Of course."

Her screen flashed with a new message.

University Enrollment Reminder: "Online payment unsuccessful. Please proceed to in-person enrollment to settle your fees."

Leila groaned, flopping onto the mattress.

"What now?" Amara asked, peering over her shoulder.

"The online system screwed me over again. I thought I paid, but now it says it didn't go through. I have to do everything in person tomorrow."

Amara made a face. "Oof. That means lining up, right?"

"Yup."

"In this heat?"

"Yup."

"And dealing with unbothered university staff who barely look at you while you ask for help?"

"Yup."

Amara shuddered. "I'd rather fail a class than go through that."

Leila gave her a look. "Which is why you're not the role model in this family."

Amara grinned. "And yet, here I am, still alive and thriving."

Leila shook her head, sitting up. "I need to sort out my documents before I sleep. If I'm lucky, I'll be in and out of there in an hour."

Amara snorted. "Good luck with that. I heard some students were stuck there the whole day."

She rolled onto her side, staring at the ceiling. No matter how much she planned ahead, something always went wrong. Money was tight, university was already overwhelming, and she hadn't even started classes yet. But she had no choice. She had to make this work.

Amara patted her head sympathetically. "Don't worry, little sis. I'll bring you food when you're halfway to losing your sanity."

Leila rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

Despite her laziness, Amara always showed up when it mattered.

She glanced at her bag and sighed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

The first thing Axel felt was the pounding in his skull.

A low, persistent throb that pulsed behind his eyes, making the morning light filtering through his floor-to-ceiling windows feel like a personal attack.

He groaned, rubbing his temples before forcing himself up. His sheets smelled faintly of expensive cologne and alcohol-a reminder of last night's reckless drinking. His discarded blazer lay on the floor near the bed, next to his untied dress shoes and a half-finished bottle of whiskey.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand.

Javi: Wake up, idiot. We're meeting at the club.
Diego: Hope you didn't die. You owe me for last night's bet.
Javi: Enrollment's handled, so you have no excuses. Bring the car.

Axel ran a hand through his already-messy hair, exhaling as he stared at the whiskey glass on the floor. Another night blurred by alcohol, another morning where nothing had changed. His father's voice echoed in his mind-something about responsibility, something about legacy. Axel scoffed under his breath. He'd heard it all before. Enrollment? Oh, right.

He barely remembered signing anything. His father's assistant must have handled it.

Lucky him.