PHILIPPINES — JAY'S POV — COMING BACK TO A DIFFERENT SILENCE
Home didn't feel like home when I walked in.
Not because anything was wrong—but because everything was too normal.
Kuya Angelo was on the couch, half-asleep, TV murmuring some morning show. Tita gema cooking breakfast.Aries already left. Life continued.
And yet my chest felt tight.
Like something had already gone wrong and hadn't reached this house yet.
I dropped my bag quietly.
"Back already?" Kuya Angelo asked, rubbing his eyes.
"Yeah," I replied. "Flight landed early."
He studied my face for a second too long.
"You eat?" he asked.
"On the plane."
A lie.
But a gentle one.
He nodded, satisfied enough, and went back to the TV.
I went to my room.
Closed the door.
Leant my forehead against it.
London still clung to me—steel, rain, power plays, names that could burn cities down. I peeled off the CEO armor piece by piece. Glasses off. Hair loosened. Jacket hung away like it belonged to someone else.
I pulled on a hoodie.
Oversized. Soft. Familiar.
Too familiar.
I exhaled.
Three days.
Only three days.
I grabbed my phone.
No new messages.
Keifer hadn't texted again after Be safe.
That should've eased me.
It didn't.
---
THE DRIVE — RUMORS MOVE FASTER THAN CARS
The road to school felt longer than usual.
Every red light dragged.
Every turn sharpened my awareness.
At the first intersection near campus, I heard it.
Two girls on a scooter, laughing.
"…I swear, Section E is wild." "Did you hear about Cin?" "Yeah! Twenty-five thousand. From Imelda's bag."
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
Cin.
The name rang wrong.
I told myself not to jump to conclusions.
But my instincts?
They never screamed without reason.
At the school gate, the whispers thickened.
They followed me like fog.
"—second time—" "—they paid her off—" "—typical Section E—" "—counselor said—"
I parked.
Stepped out.
And the hallway swallowed me whole.
People weren't whispering about me.
That was the strangest part.
No stares. No curiosity. No murmurs of she's back.
Everyone was too busy tearing someone else apart.
Cin.
I walked.
Slow.
Measured.
Every rumor I caught added weight to my steps.
Stolen money.
Twenty-five thousand.
Girl crying.
Section E covering it up.
My jaw locked.
By the time I reached our floor, my anger was no longer sharp.
It was cold.
Controlled.
The dangerous kind.
---
SECTION E — THE ROOM THAT LOST ITS NOISE
The door creaked open.
And something was immediately wrong.
Section E was never silent.
Never.
There was always movement—chairs scraping, someone laughing too loud, Cin doing something unnecessary just to exist loudly.
Now?
Stillness.
Every head turned.
Not with excitement.
With relief.
Like they'd been waiting.
I didn't acknowledge it.
My eyes went straight to the window.
Cin.
Standing there.
Hands in his pockets.
Shoulders slumped in a way I'd never seen.
He wasn't pretending to be okay.
He wasn't pretending at all.
That scared me more than anything else.
I dropped my bag.
The sound echoed too loud.
Cin didn't turn.
Keifer did.
Our eyes met.
And I knew.
Whatever had happened—
It hadn't just hurt Cin.
It had failed all of them.
I walked to Keifer's desk.
Lowered my voice.
"What happened."
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Ran a hand through his hair.
"After—"
"Now," I said.
Not loud.
But final.
He nodded.
Slowly.
---
KEIFER'S POV — THE DAY EVERYTHING SLIPPED
Yesterday didn't explode.
It rotted.
It started with yelling.
Imelda by the lockers.
Crying.
Saying her money was gone.
Twenty-five thousand pesos.
People stopped.
Phones came out.
Cin laughed at first—because that's what he did when the world pointed fingers.
"Check my bag," he said. "I'm broke, not stupid."
But no one checked.
She pointed at him.
Just like that.
And suddenly—
That was enough.
I stepped in.
So did Yuri.
Calix pushed someone back who tried to grab Cin's arm.
Felix blocked the path when they tried to drag him toward the office.
"We didn't do anything," I said. "Check the cameras."
The counselor arrived.
She didn't look at the cameras.
Didn't ask Cin a single question.
She looked at us.
At Section E.
And her face hardened like she'd already decided.
"Let's not pretend," she said calmly. "This isn't the first incident involving Mr. Peralta."
I felt something snap.
"This isn't an incident," I said. "It's an accusation."
She ignored me.
Imelda kept crying.
Saying it was for her mom.
People whispered.
"Didn't Cin do this before?" "I heard he got away with it."
Cin stopped smiling.
I'd never seen him do that.
That's when Mykel stepped forward.
Wallet out.
Counted the money.
Handed it to her.
Just to end it.
Just to make it stop.
The counselor nodded.
Satisfied.
No apology.
No announcement that Cin was innocent.
Just—
"Well. That resolves it."
Like money replaced truth.
Online posts followed within hours.
Screenshots.
Stories twisted.
Cin-the-thief.
Cin-the-Wild.
And no matter how much I argued—
No matter how loud I got—
They didn't listen.
They never do.
---
BACK TO JAY — THE STILLNESS BEFORE THE STORM
Keifer finished.
The room felt smaller.
I didn't speak immediately.
I looked at Cin.
Really looked.
At the way he avoided everyone's eyes.
At the way his hands clenched like he was holding himself together.
I walked to him.
Slow.
He felt it.
Turned.
His eyes were red.
Not crying.
Something worse.
Ashamed.
"Did you take it?" I asked quietly.
He flinched.
"No," he said immediately. "I swear, Jay. I didn't."
"I know," I said.
Just like that.
No hesitation.
His breath stuttered.
I turned back to the room.
"Who accused him?"
"Imelda," Yuri said.
"Who decided he was guilty?"
Silence.
Keifer's jaw tightened.
"The counselor," he said.
I nodded.
Once.
That was all.
I picked up my phone.
"Stay here," I told Cin.
Then I looked at Keifer.
"Keifer,?"
"Yes," he said immediately.
We walked out.
Together.
And the hallway seemed to hold its breath.
Because whatever they'd started—
They were about to realize something important.
They hadn't just humiliated Cin.
They'd crossed the wrong person.
And I didn't need to raise my voice to make that clear.
Not yet.
COUNSELOR'S OFFICE — JAY & KEIFER vs. AUTHORITY
The counselor's office smelled like lemon cleaner and false calm.
Certificates lined the wall in neat frames—guidance, ethics, conflict resolution—each one watching us like a silent jury that had already made up its mind.
The counselor didn't look surprised to see me.
That alone told me everything.
She leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled. "Ms. Mariano. I heard you were away."
"Family matter," I replied, voice smooth. "I'm back now."
Keifer stood beside me. Not behind. Not in front.
Beside.
The counselor gestured to the chairs. "Sit."
I didn't.
Keifer didn't either.
Her eyes flicked between us, irritation tightening at the edges. "This won't take long if we're all cooperative."
"Funny," I said. "That wasn't the tone yesterday."
She stiffened. "You weren't present yesterday."
"No," I agreed. "But I've been briefed."
She smiled thinly. "Then you know your classmate was accused of theft."
"Accused," I echoed. "Not proven."
Her smile didn't waver. "The matter was resolved."
Keifer stepped forward a fraction. "No. It was buried."
Her gaze snapped to him. "Mr. Watson, you will—"
"You didn't check the cameras," he cut in, voice sharp but controlled. "You didn't search his bag. You didn't question him."
"I handled the situation appropriately," she said coolly. "Based on pattern and precedent."
I laughed.
Once.
Soft.
Dangerous.
"Pattern?" I asked. "Or reputation?"
She turned back to me. "Ms. Mariano, Section E has a history of—"
"—being convenient," I finished. "Loud boys. Easy suspects. A counselor's favorite shortcut."
Her lips pressed together. "Watch your tone."
"No," I said. "You watched his."
Silence snapped tight.
Keifer's jaw flexed. "You humiliated him in public."
"I restored order."
"You paid off a lie," Keifer shot back. "And let everyone think it was truth."
Her eyes hardened. "You think throwing money at a problem was my idea?"
I turned to Keifer briefly. "Mykel shouldn't have done that."
Keifer nodded. "I know."
Then back to her. "But you let it stand."
She straightened. "Because it stopped the chaos."
"And created another," I said. "One that follows him everywhere now."
She leaned forward. "Do you have proof he didn't steal it?"
"Yes," I said immediately.
She blinked. "You do?"
"Cameras," I continued. "Time stamps. Entry logs. And—" I tilted my head slightly, "—the fact that you never checked."
Her nostrils flared. "That footage is school property."
"And your responsibility," I said. "Neglected."
Keifer added, quieter but heavier, "You chose the easier narrative."
The counselor stood.
"So this is what this is," she said. "Intimidation?"
I smiled politely. "Correction."
"You want me to retract the statement?" she asked. "Publicly?"
"Yes."
She shook her head. "That would undermine authority."
"No," I replied. "It would restore credibility."
She crossed her arms. "The decision stands."
Keifer took a step forward despite himself. "You're wrong."
Her voice sharpened. "Enough. You've said your piece."
I met her eyes.
Steady.
Unblinking.
"This won't stay here," I said calmly. "It never does."
Her laugh was dismissive. "You're students."
I leaned closer—just enough for her to feel the shift.
"And you're counting on that."
A beat.
Then she opened the door.
"We're done."
Keifer looked at me, anger coiled tight.
I shook my head slightly.
Not yet.
We walked out.
Side by side.
The door shut behind us with a soft, final click.
---
HALLWAY —
The corridor exhaled.
Students pretended not to stare.
Keifer stopped walking first.
"She didn't budge," he said, frustrated. "Not even an inch."
I glanced back at the office door.
"Oh," I replied quietly. "She budged."
He frowned. "She shut us down."
"No," I said. "She exposed herself."
His eyes searched mine.
I continued walking. "Authority that refuses evidence is fragile. It just doesn't know it yet."
We rounded the corner.
Cin was still in the classroom.
Waiting.
So was the rumor.
And I was done letting it breathe.
I slipped my phone into my palm.
"Keifer," I said, voice low. "Get everyone ready."
"For what?"
I looked back at him.
"For the part where they realize Section E isn't loud because it's reckless," I said. "It's loud because it survives."