Chapter 60
It’s been a month, and somehow, things have started to feel better.
The days have gotten easier, lighter.
I owe that to the four of them—Athena, Seinna, Diana, and Samantha.
For the first time in a long while, I feel like I belong.
Like I’ve found a space where I can just be, quietly, without constantly second-guessing if I’m too much or not enough.
They fill the silence I never knew was so heavy.
They make existing feel.
.
.
safe.
That afternoon, we were sitting together in the classroom while waiting for our professor. The usual noise filled the air—small groups talking, some students glued to their phones. But with the five of us clustered at the back, it felt like we had our own little bubble.
Athena suddenly spoke. “It’s my younger sister’s birthday today. Do you guys want to go?”
We all paused, eyes turning to her. She looked excited, but I noticed the small flicker of uncertainty in her eyes—like she wasn’t sure we’d be interested.
“Ay go! Tara na!” Diana said without hesitation, practically bouncing in her seat.
Athena raised an eyebrow. "We still have class.”
“Sorry na, excited lang,” Diana grinned, putting her hands up like she just got caught stealing something sacred.
Samantha glanced at the door, unimpressed. “As if Sir’s showing up. That man’s allergic to punctuality.”
Seinna twirled her pen lazily. “Technically, we don’t have class if the teacher isn’t here. Right? That’s how academic logic loopholes work.”
I smiled faintly, watching her spin the pen like she was holding a wine glass. “Loopholes are your favorite thing.”
“They’re not just loopholes,” she replied smoothly. “They’re elegant exits from structural oppression.”
Athena groaned. “It’s literally just Sir being absent.”
“Still counts,” Samantha added, already pulling her bag onto her lap. “So… may spaghetti ba? Hotdog na may marshmallow? Loot bag?”
“Party hats,” Diana chimed in. “Yung may gold foil. Dapat may ganun.”
Seinna snorted. “You live almost in a mansion, Diana. Why are you like this?”
“Eh kasi nakakatuwa!” Diana cackled. “Anong silbi ng yaman kung ‘di mo kayang gawing katatawanan ang sarili mo?”
Athena rolled her eyes but she was smiling now. “Just don’t scare my sister. She’s turning eight, not eighty.”
“Sylvia, right?” Seinna asked, slipping her phone into her pocket. “She’s the one who made you that friendship bracelet?”
Sylvia. What a soft name.
“Yeah,” Athena nodded, a gentle smile playing on her lips. “She’s clingy. But she’s cute.”
“Relatable,” Diana said. “Ako rin clingy. Pero hindi cute. Ako ‘yung clingy na nakaka-high blood.”
“You’re the clingy that gives migraines,” Athena muttered, already standing up.
We laughed. Even I let out a breath of amusement.
Then, Diana turned to Athena with that ridiculous grin of hers. “Alam mo, ang ganda mo Athena, pero parang mas maganda ata bunso mo ah. Akin na lang siya.”Athena raised a brow in warning.
“Sana ‘di siya masungit katulad ng Ate.” she whispered.
"What?"
“Ha? Wala! Sabi ko, ganda mo. Sana mapasa’kin ka na,” Diana said innocently, batting her lashes.
Samantha groaned. “Ugh. Can you two flirt after cake?”
I didn’t say anything. Just followed them quietly as they gathered their things and headed out.
And for a moment, just a small one, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
After waiting, Athena driver has arrived and we started walking towards it.
"Grabe, yayamanin talaga. Sa amin kasi lakad-lakad lang 'yung afford." Diana said before getting in.
"Don't you own a car?" Athena asked, while putting her seatbelt.
"Wala ah. Poor lang kasi ako. . . Poor you. Ayiee." she said and what? I don't get it.
All of us didn't react, not because it wasn't funny, it was because all of us didn't understand.
"Hirap talaga 'pag 'di mo kahumor kasama niyo eh." she murmured and we just ignored her.
Inside the car, the air-conditioning blasted cool relief over the warm April air.
“So,” I started, glancing around, “what should we expect at this party? Face painting? Pony rides?”
Athena sighed. “She’s turning eighty, not being knighted.”
“Could be both,” Seina said. “Rich kids operate on a different reality. Last party I attended had a string quartet and personalized gelato carts.”
“Hay naku,” Diana chimed in from the back, legs crossed like a tita in a coffee shop. “Ako dati, sa Jollibee lang. Tapos souvenir namin? Basang paper plate. Kasi umulan, walang tent.”
I turned to her. “Did you just say… a wet paper plate?”
“‘Di lang wet—lubog sa spaghetti sauce. Tapos ‘yung spaghetti? Galing pang kahapon. Lutong ulam vibes!”
Samantha laughed. “Why does that sound like a horror movie?”
“Because it was,” Seinna said, mock-serious.
“Eh kasi nga hindi ako spoiled tulad niyo,” Diana added, pointing dramatically at Athena. “Ikaw pa. Party sa mansyon. Baka may fireworks pa ‘yan!”
Athena looked genuinely offended. “There are no fireworks. Just a bounce house and maybe a magician.”
“Ay magician!” Diana gasped. “Yung may bunny sa hat o may utang sa baranggay?”
“Please,” Seinna groaned, leaning back, “don’t roast the magician in front of the children.”
“No promises!” Diana grinned proudly.
Samantha smiled. “I’m just here for sugar and moral support.”
As we turned into the gated village, guards greeted the driver like he was royalty. The gates slid open with theatrical smoothness—clearly maintained with money and magic.
“How does it feel,” Seina asked Athena, “knowing your eight-year-old sister has a better living situation than most adults?”
Athena stared blankly out the window. “I try not to think about it.”
“Pikit lang. Tapos iyak,” Diana nodded sagely. “Ganyan din ako kapag binubuksan ko ‘yung wallet ko. Pikit, iyak, tapos pretend rich na lang.”
Samantha snorted. “The millennial survival method.”
We all laughed.
The car pulled up to Athena’s house—a mini palace complete with sculpted animal hedges and a fountain that looked suspiciously imported.
“Oh my God,” Diana gasped, stepping out. “Ano ‘to? Disney Princess starter pack?”
“This was a mistake,” Athena muttered.
Music, foam bubbles, and kid-screams echoed as we approached the party. An emcee yelled, “Okay kids! Who wants to play Bring Me?”
Diana grabbed her chest dramatically. “Oh no. ‘Bring me yaya in three seconds!’ Lagot ‘yung batang walang yaya!”
A wave of foam blasted our feet. Kids in tiaras and suspenders dashed by, one dragging a unicorn plush bigger than Samantha.
“Welcome!” chirped a party planner, handing us loot bags. They weren’t cheap ones either—real imported chocolates and mini plushies.
Samantha peeked in her bag. “This is better than my last three birthdays combined.”
“This is high-tier loot.”
Athena was already scanning the crowd. “There she is.”
We followed her gaze to the princess-themed setup, where a little girl in a glittery pink dress stood with a slightly crooked tiara, holding a cupcake like it was sacred.
“Sylvia!” Athena called.
The girl’s face lit up. She ran over and crashed into Athena’s legs with pure, squealing joy.
“You’re here!”
“Of course,” Athena smiled. “And I brought my friends. Be nice, okay?”
Sylvia peeked shyly from behind her sister, still hugging the cupcake. Her eyes landed on me.
“Hi,” I said quietly, kneeling to her level. “I’m Cynthia.”
“You’re pretty po, Ate Cynthia!” she beamed—and hugged me.
“Wait, this is adorable,” Seinna said, taking a picture with her phone.
“Tadhana na ‘yan,” Diana said, arms crossed. “Ang cute. Clingy pa. Soulmate mo ‘yan.”
“She’s eight,” Athena replied, deadpan.
“Eh ako rin minsan, seven ang emotional maturity ko. Sakto lang!”
“Don’t listen to her,” Seinna whispered to Sylvia. “She’s emotionally unstable.”
“Walang basagan ng trip,” Diana said proudly.
Suddenly, the magician popped out of nowhere—literally—with a puff of glitter and a dove on his shoulder.
“Oh wow, okay,” Samantha blinked. “That’s dramatic.”
“Grabe, may pakpak talaga,” Diana whispered in awe. “Mukhang may NBI clearance ‘to. Legit ‘yan.”
Athena adjusted Sylvia’s party hat. “Want to open your presents now or later?”
“Later,” Sylvia said. “I want to watch the magic show first!”
“You’re the boss,” Athena said, proud.
“If it were me,” Diana whispered, “una ko nang binuksan lahat ng regalo. Then compare kung sino may pinakamahal. Bata pa lang, competitive na!”
“You narrate chaos like it’s a sport,” Seinna said.
“Syempre. MVP ako sa gulo.”
We settled near the dessert table as the magic show began. The kids screamed “wow!” every five seconds. Sylvia clung tightly to Athena’s hand, eyes wide.
“She’s cute,” Seinna said beside me.
Samantha nodded. “And definitely the favorite.”
“No contest,” Seinna added.
Diana walked up with cupcakes stacked in one hand. “Mga bruha, kunin niyo na. Libre dessert. Alam niyo naman ako—sugar-powered gremlin.”
“That is the most accurate thing you’ve ever said,” Samantha said, grabbing one.
I smiled faintly, quietly taking mine. The sugar was soft. The laughter, warm. I watched Sylvia’s tiara shimmer under the fairy lights, her giggle blending into the evening.
I didn’t say much.
We all sat on the grass, chewing on overpriced cupcakes, watching a magician pull a crumpled bouquet out of his sock, and listening to Diana loudly roast every balloon animal he made.
Samantha leaned back on her elbows, squinting at the balloon in the magician’s hand. “Is that supposed to be a dog? That looks like… a potato with legs.”
“Potato nga,” Diana said, eyes narrowed. “Na-stomp ng elepante. Tapos sinabing rabbit daw. Niloloko tayo, mga bata pa lang!”
Seinna giggled, brushing frosting off her lip. “Can we let the kids enjoy the show for like, five seconds?”
“I’m just saying!” Diana huffed. “Kung totoo ‘yang magic niya, bakit hindi niya pa-nawala ‘yung utang ng nanay ko sa school canteen?”
Athena turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “What debts?”
“Secret. May utang din ako sa tindahan,” she whispered like it was classified information. “Tatlong ice candy saka isang Piattos.”
They laughed again—loud, carefree, sugar-fueled. The magician was now sawing a foam box in half with exaggerated gestures. The little kids gasped. Sylvia squealed and clung to Athena’s arm.
“Parang walang laman ‘yang box,” Diana muttered again. “Baka ‘yun na yung magic: empty promises.”
Samantha stuffed half her cupcake into her mouth. “He looks like he learned magic from YouTube.”
Athena smirked, trying not to laugh as Sylvia attempted to feed her another marshmallow. Seina was giggling too hard to sit upright, wiping tears from her eyes.
Diana? She was now trying to convince a confused five-year-old that the cotton candy machine ran on kaluluwa ng manok.
“Pag naubos ‘yung cotton candy, ibig sabihin ubos na ‘yung spirit ng manok. Kaya wag ka masyado kumuha, baka magalit ‘yung mga kaluluwa!”
“Diana, stop!” Seina wheezed. “You’re gonna make that kid cry!”
But I wasn’t laughing. Not really.
The sounds around me were happy—laughter, sugar, music—but inside, I felt heavy.
I looked at my untouched cupcake. It was supposed to taste like vanilla and happiness. But it just tasted like nothing.
If the accident didn’t happen, would I be having a birthday party too? Would I get to be the one with a magician and sparkly decorations? Would someone have remembered?
“I’m gonna take a walk,” I said, my voice barely above the noise.
Athena blinked, her smile fading. “Are you okay?”
I nodded quickly. “Just wanna look around.”
Seinna gave me a thumbs up. “Don’t get kidnapped by the magician.”
Diana cupped her hands and shouted, “Pag may clown na may dalang briefcase, huwag kang sumama! Baka networking ‘yan!”
Samantha giggled. “She watches too many telenovelas.”
I forced a tiny laugh. Just enough. Then stood and walked away from the group, slipping past the balloon arches and cupcake towers.
Behind me, the laughter continued—bright and beautiful.
But it wasn’t mine.
The laughter faded behind me as I walked past the bubble machine, the pastel-colored dessert table, and the sea of sparkling tiaras. Every detail was perfect. Every child was smiling. Every adult was buzzing with comfort and conversation.
But inside me, it was just quiet.
I wandered to a quieter corner of the yard. There was a little bench beside a trimmed hedge shaped like a bear. I sat down slowly, letting the sounds of the party dull into background noise.
The sunlight was warm on my knees. The wind smelled faintly of frosting and sunscreen.
If the accident didn’t happen…
Would I be laughing now?
Would I be like Sylvia—carefree, surrounded by magic, clutching a cupcake like it was her whole world?
Would I get to celebrate like this?
I pressed my lips together tightly, trying not to cry.
And yet…
In the distance, I heard Diana shout, “Tangina ‘yung magician bumagsak sa balloon stand! Anak ng pusa—may pa-slapstick pala!”
A shriek of chaotic laughter followed.
I exhaled, almost smiling, wiping at my eyes before anything could fall.
Maybe I was supposed to be happy today.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t feel the ache.
I was just sitting her around there garden when I heard a footstep coming towards me.
"Hi po, Ate Cyn! Why are you here po? Are you okay po?"
The voice came before the footsteps.
I turned my head, startled.
Sylvia stood there by the door, arms loosely at her sides, the plastic pink wand still in one hand, as if she forgot to put it down after her last magic trick.
Her white dress was stained with chocolate frosting, her socks lopsided, her tiara threatening to fall off the side of her head.
She looked like a walking mess of birthday joy.
I quickly wiped at my face, not that it mattered. I was sure I still looked like a wreck. “Shouldn’t you be inside? It’s your party.”
She took a cautious step closer. “Ate said you were sad po. So I looked for you.”
“I’m not sad,” I said, too fast, too sharp. I could feel the irritation creep into my voice like an instinct. “I just needed air.”
Her brows drew together. She didn’t flinch at the tone. “You’re lying po.”
My jaw clenched. “You’re not supposed to say that.”
“But it’s true.”
I glared at her, half-expecting her to run away crying. But she just stood there, unbothered, wand now tapping her own chin like she was in deep thought.
“Besides,” she added, “I know when people are pretending. Kasi I do that too po.”
I blinked. “You pretend?”
“Uh-huh.” She finally walked over and sat beside me, her short legs dangling way above the ground. “Pag malungkot ako, I smile super big para hindi mag-worry si Ate.”
That silenced me. For a second, I just looked at her. This tiny creature who should be thinking about cake and games—not hiding sadness behind a smile.
“That’s not something a eight-year-old should know,” I muttered.
She shrugged. “It just happens po.”
I tried to look away, but something about her voice—its unfiltered honesty—pulled at me like a tug on a loose thread.
Then, quietly, she asked, “Is it your birthday po today din?”
I didn’t respond.
“I asked because…” she hesitated, looking at her fingers, “sometimes sad things happen on birthdays. And I thought baka that’s why po you’re sad.”
That hit a little too close. I turned away, staring at the wall. I didn’t want to talk about it. Not with her. Not with anyone.
But before I could tell her to go back to her party, she stood up, placed her wand carefully on the bench, then lifted the crooked tiara from her own head and held it out to me.
“You can wear this po,” she said solemnly, like she was offering me a sacred relic. “So you’ll feel happy. It worked for me kanina when I cried kasi I dropped my cupcake. But then I wore the crown and I forgot a little.”
I stared at it. It was silly. A crack on the side. Glitter that kept falling off. But her hands were so earnest, cupped gently like she was handing me treasure.
“Why are you giving this to me?” I asked quietly.
“Because you’re nice. And lonely. And I think you need it more po.”
“I’m not nice,” I said.
“You’re not mean.”
“How would you know?”
“Because you didn’t shout at me,” she said simply, smiling. “And you let me sit here po.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I took the tiara. Not because I wanted to wear it, but because rejecting it felt… wrong.
“You’re weird,” I muttered.
“I know po,” she giggled. “But you’re nice-weird. Not scary-weird like Kuya Ethan. He eats icing with his hands po. Like a caveman.”
That actually made me snort. Just a little. I covered it quickly.
Sylvia leaned against my arm. Her body was warm and sticky from the heat and sugar. “You can cry if you want, po. I won’t tell Ate. Promise.”
I didn’t cry. But I felt the tightness in my throat again. I closed my eyes, just for a second, and let the silence wrap around us.
She didn’t fill it with chatter. She didn’t ask more questions. She just stayed beside me. Quiet. Present. Like she understood something most adults didn’t: that sometimes, you don’t need someone to fix the pain. You just need someone to sit with it.
Time passed—five minutes, maybe ten. The muffled noise of the party continued in the background. Laughter, music, someone yelling “sino may balloon sword?”
I looked down at her. Her eyes were starting to close, like she might actually fall asleep right there.
“I don’t even know your full name,” I said suddenly.
She opened one eye. “Sylvia Quincy Diaz Gomez po. But you can call me Syl. Or princess. Or pufferfish because I'm cute!"
I smiled, just a little. “That last one was kinda weird.”
She yawned. “But it’s cute po.”
“You’re very strange.”
“Thank you po.”
I shook my head, then gently placed the tiara on my own head. It slipped a bit to the side.
Sylvia grinned. “You look pretty po.”
I raised a brow. “Liar.”
She shrugged. “Pretty when you’re not frowning po. That’s all.”
And weirdly, that stayed with me.
Even after we stood up. Even after I walked her back inside to the chaos of balloons and pizza slices and kids screaming about prizes. Even after I returned to the corner and kept mostly to myself for the rest of the party.
I kept the tiara in my pocket the whole day.
And at night, when I got home and the house fell quiet again, I stared at it on my desk.
Maybe birthdays were still ruined for me.
But that day, because of a strange, sticky-fingered eight-year-old, they were also… less unbearable.
---
We were all sprawled around Athena’s living room, books and worksheets scattered like confetti on the floor. The air-conditioning hummed softly, almost in defiance of the tension Diana was creating.
Diana threw her notebook across the room like it had personally offended her. “Bweset talaga 'tong math! Ano ba matutulong nito sa buhay ko, ha?!”
Athena didn’t even look up from her worksheet. “It’s easy. Don’t act like it’s hard.”
“Sa’yo madali lang, pero sa’kin hindi eh!” Diana threw her hands up. “Sorry kung pinanganak akong bobo at hindi katulad mo na matalino at maganda—” She caught herself mid-rant, cleared her throat.
She flopped dramatically onto the couch like a telenovela star dying from heartbreak. “Pero seryoso, bakit ba kailangan namin to? Ano, magiging architect kami?”
Seinna, cross-legged on the floor with a mechanical pencil tucked behind her ear, smirked. “We’re in grade seven, Diana. It’s literally just triangles.”
Athena finally glanced up, looking both tired and annoyed. “Exactly. It’s not even algebra. Just follow the formula.”
Samantha, who was chewing gum and casually flipping through her notes, said, “Honestly, this is like... the tutorial level of math.”
Diana perked up. “Exactly! Kaya dapat may cheat codes! Pwede ba mag-spawn ng sagot gamit calculator?”
Seinna laughed. “You’re comparing school to a video game now?”
Diana grinned like she just won a round in a debate. “Oo, parang magic! Kunyari may triangle na lilitaw tapos—bam!—magiging square. Magic ‘yon, girl.”
Athena sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “That’s not how geometry works.”
“Basta ako, di ko to kailangan sa future. Magaling na akong mag-TikTok. May business na. Walang math, vibes lang,” Diana announced proudly, arms behind her head. “Pero fine, fine. Gagawin ko na… kahit sumasakit na utak ko.”
Samantha snorted. “I feel like your brain’s in a permanent state of rebellion.”
“It is,” Seinna replied. “Her brain unionized and went on strike.”
I watched the chaos from my seat beside the window. Sunlight spilled into the room, soft and golden, and I could hear the distant chirp of birds from outside. It was peaceful—at least until Diana started ranting again.
I shifted slightly, feeling the dryness in my throat.
“Where’s the water here? I’m thirsty,” I said softly.
Athena pointed to the hallway. “Kitchen’s straight ahead, left side. You’ll see the fridge.”
“Cynthia’s escaping the math war,” Samantha said, grinning.
Diana sat up and shouted after me, “Pag may nakita kang tubig na color blue, huwag mong inumin! Baka dishwashing liquid ‘yon!”
“Or a potion,” Seinna added, deadpan.
“Potion nga,” Diana agreed. “Pampatalino. Kailangan ko ng dose.”
I walked into the kitchen, grateful for the break from the chaos downstairs. Athena was lecturing Diana again—this time about why subtracting incorrectly “isn’t a form of artistic expression”—and Seinna looked like she was one triangle away from snapping a ruler in half.
I filled a glass with water, took a few slow sips, then set it down. The silence was oddly peaceful. I didn’t rush back.
Instead, I found myself climbing the stairs, my steps slow and quiet.
The hallway upstairs was dim and quiet—like a whole different house. Most of the doors were closed. But Sylvia’s? Hers was open just a crack.
I barely glanced at it until—
“Cynthiiiiaaa…”
A tiny, croaky voice floated out.
I paused.
“Cynthiaaaa?”
I peeked through the door and there she was, sitting up in bed with a pink blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape.
Her hair was sticking out in the back, cheeks red from fever, and her nose was a little shiny from rubbing too much.
She was surrounded by pillows, tissue paper, and at least three stuffed animals.
“Oh,” I said quietly, stepping into the room.
Her face brightened. “I knew it was you! I have super hearing today. My ears are like… owl ears.” She blinked. “Do owls have good hearing? I think so.”
I gave a small nod. “They do.”
She grinned. “Yay. I’m like a sick owl. A cute one. Look.” She held up her arms and flapped her blanket like wings. “Hoo hoo.”
I tried not to smile. I really did. But it was impossible.
“You should be resting,” I said gently.
“I was! But then I got bored and my nose got stuffy and my brain feels like mashed potatoes but with glitter in it. You know?”
“…Not really.”
“Exactly!” She giggled and then coughed into a tissue. “I’m sick, Ate Cynthia. Very, very sick. This is my final day.”
“It’s just a cold.”
“Final day of boredom!” she corrected, grinning. “I’ve already named my germs. The big one is Greg. He lives in my left nostril. He’s the leader.”
I stood by the side of her bed, unsure what to do with my hands. She looked up at me with those bright eyes. “Aren’t you gonna sit?”
I hesitated, then quietly sat at the edge of her bed.
Sylvia immediately scooted closer with her blanket cocoon dragging along. “You’re warm. That’s good. I’m cold. Can you just sit there forever?”
I didn’t say anything. I just nodded a little.
“Your nod is so small. You nod like a turtle.”
“…Thank you?”
“Not an insult. Turtles are wise.” She sneezed loudly into her blanket and sniffled. “Do you think Ate would let me have soup in bed? What about banana? I like banana soup. Wait, is that real? Can you make soup out of banana?”
I blinked slowly. “…I don’t think you should eat that.”
She giggled again, cuddling her stuffed rabbit. “You talk so little, Ate Cynthia. You’re like a mystery. You’re like… a library that doesn’t let people borrow books.”
I looked down, not sure how to respond. I didn’t know how to say things like she did. Not even close.
She peeked up at me from her blanket. “You’re not mad, right?”
I shook my head.
“Okay. Good. ‘Cause if you were mad, I was gonna give you my emergency gummy bear stash.” She pulled out a tiny ziplock bag from under her pillow. “See?”
I gave her a tiny smile.
She beamed. “There! You smiled! That’s better. You look nice when you do that. You always look nice, but the smile makes you look like a sunflower that’s shy.”
That—
I didn’t know what to do with that. I just looked away.
Sylvia leaned her head on my arm gently. “I like you, Cynthia. Even if you don’t talk a lot. You make me feel safe.”
My throat felt tight. Not because I was sick.
She closed her eyes, still smiling, and whispered, “Please don’t go yet. Stay with me until I dream about cartoons.”
I nodded again. This time, maybe like a turtle.
And I stayed.
Even when her breathing softened and the room fell quiet, I didn’t move.
Because she asked me to.
And because I wanted to.
---
As time goes by, we're are now already grade 10, graduating students. We've become more closer, and also, with Sylvia.
She's just a child, a cute one, but I find her comforting. The way she keep talking nonsense, but never failed to make me happy. At first I find her really annoying, but she was fun.
Actually, speaking of her. I'm with her right now.
“Cynthiaaaaa!” Sylvia called again from the stairs, her voice echoing through the house like a little trumpet. “Where are you? Did you get eaten by the couch? Or did you fall into the fridge?! I read that happens sometimes.”
I set down the glass of water I was holding. “I’m here,” I said softly, just loud enough.
“Eeeee!” She came hopping into the living room, wearing oversized bunny slippers and one of Athena’s sweatshirts that swallowed her whole. “You’re alive! I thought the furniture ate you. I was ready to rescue you. I even brought a spoon.” She held up the spoon like a sword.
I blinked. “…Why a spoon?”
“In case I had to dig you out of a couch cushion avalanche. Duh.” She plopped onto the floor dramatically, hugging her knees. “It’s soooo boring without the others. And my tummy growled like a dragon just now. I think it wants adobo.”
I quietly sat beside her.
She peeked up at me. “You’re so quiet again. You’re like… like a painting. Pretty, but not talking.”
I glanced at her and gave a small nod. I never really knew what to say when she started like this.
She didn’t seem to mind. She never did.
“I named your aura,” she said proudly.
“…My what?”
“Your aura. It’s like the mood cloud around you. Yours is called 'Cinna-breeze.' It’s like cinnamon and breeze! Get it?” She leaned forward, whispering, “Because you’re warm and soft and calming and you make me feel like I’m not alone even when you're not saying anything.”
My chest ached a little. I didn’t know how to reply to that either.
“You don’t have to talk, okay?” she said, patting my arm. “I like you just like this. Quiet and turtle-y. I’ll be the words, you be the calm. Like a combo meal!”
I smiled a little, biting the inside of my cheek.
She beamed. “See? That’s the smile! You always do that when you’re trying not to laugh. It’s my favorite. It’s like a secret laugh.” She scooted closer until her shoulder was leaning on mine. “Also, you smell like vanilla. And soap.”
I blinked. “Um… thanks?”
“You’re welcome!” she chirped. “When I grow up, I wanna smell like soap too. And have your calmness. I think you’re secretly a superhero.”
I tilted my head, curious despite myself. “What kind of superhero?”
She tapped her chin. “Hmm… you’re ‘Captain Comfy.’ Your power is making people feel safe. And you win fights by hugging people until they cry from emotions.”
That made me laugh softly. Just a small sound, but real.
Sylvia lit up like a light bulb. “I did it! I made you laugh! Achievement unlocked! Quick, somebody give me a sticker.”
She flopped backward and stared at the ceiling. “I’m gonna remember this day forever. The day Cynthia laughed because of me. I’m gonna write it in my diary under ‘Greatest Hits.’ Right next to the time I made a sandwich without adult supervision.”
She paused, then turned her head to look at me. “Ate Cynthia?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you like being with me?” Her voice was quieter this time. Not scared. Just unsure.
I didn’t speak at first. Not because I didn’t know. But because my chest felt too full to say it properly.
So I nodded again. Small. Turtle-y.
She smiled, satisfied. “Good. Because I really, really like being with you. You’re my favorite quiet person.”
Then, without another word, she gently reached for my hand and held it. Her fingers were warm and small and fidgety.
Mine stayed still. But I didn’t let go.
Then Sylvia flopped onto the couch beside me, her bunny slippers falling off. “Cynthiaaaa,” she whined, “do you think if you eat too many marshmallows your bones turn soft?”
I blinked. “…I don’t think so.”
“Hmm,” she said, unconvinced. “But what if they do? What if someone became all wobbly because their bones turned into marshmallows and then they bounced everywhere like a gummy worm? Is that a real disease?”
I shook my head, barely suppressing a smile.
“Okay, okay,” she said, suddenly sitting up. “But what about fish? Do you think fish have best friends? Like, if two fish always swim together and one gets eaten by a shark, does the other one cry underwater? Or do they just forget?”
I opened my mouth, closed it, and then said softly, “Maybe they cry. Quietly.”
She gasped. “Underwater tears! That’s so sad. Do you think a fish funeral has seaweed flowers?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. “Also! Why do we have bellybuttons? And what if a worm accidentally gets in one? Will it live there? Will it pay rent?”
I turned to her slowly. “You think… worms rent apartments in bellybuttons?”
She nodded seriously. “Only the responsible ones. The lazy ones just sneak in.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. Just a soft one. And of course, she noticed.
“Ahhhh! You laughed again! That’s two! I’m on a roll.” She threw her arms in the air like she’d won a contest. “Okay, next question! Do you think clouds have names? Like maybe there’s one called Gerald and he’s the one that always rains on sad days. Or Daisy, and she only floats above playgrounds.”
“…I’ve never thought about that.”
“Well, think about it now,” she said, tapping her temple. “It’s important. Cloud names affect the weather.”
I just looked at her, completely lost. She smiled, triumphant.
“Do you think if you stare at a banana long enough it will ripen faster? Because I did that once and it worked, I think. But maybe it was just time. I dunno.”
She crawled closer and leaned against my side. “You’re like… my favorite person to talk to. Even if you never answer all my questions.”
I murmured, “You don’t really give me time to.”
“That’s the fun part!” she chirped. “You get surprise quizzes. Rapid fire. Next question: If we had to survive on a deserted island, would you eat bugs with me or would you cry and make me do it alone?”
I hesitated. “…I guess I’d try.”
She beamed. “Yay! Bug buddies!”
She leaned her head on my shoulder, her voice getting softer. “Hey, Cynthia… do you think I talk too much?”
I glanced down at her, eyes wide and shining.
“No,” I said quietly. “I like hearing you talk.”
She smiled sleepily. “Good. Because my mouth never knows how to stop. My brain keeps sending words like—whoosh!—like a spaghetti hose.”
“A what?”
“A spaghetti hose!” she laughed. “It’s not real. I made it up. It’s like… when your brain is just spraying spaghetti thoughts everywhere and you don’t know which one to eat first.”
I chuckled again. She was ridiculous.
She curled up closer, yawning into my arm. “You’re the best listener, Cynthia. Even when I’m weird. Especially when I’m weird.”
I didn’t know how to say everything I was feeling. But I stayed still and warm and steady beside her.
---
“Graduate na tayo!” Diana declared like she was announcing the second coming. “Gusto ko dapat soon, professor tayo sa isang university!”
We all laughed.
Athena shook her head. “Diana, we literally just finished Grade 10.”
“Details! Minor detail 'yan! Ang mahalaga, feeling ko ready na akong magturo ng... ano ba… life skills.”
Seina rolled her eyes. “Your life skills involve skipping homeroom and hiding chips in your locker.”
“Exactly! Survival 101!”
I snorted. “I swear, if you ever become a professor, I’m enrolling in your class just for the chaos.”
“Uy, ako seryoso ako,” Diana said. “Gagawa ako ng syllabus: ‘Paano Mabuhay Kahit Lowbat Ka Na sa Lahat ng Aspeto ng Buhay.’”
Seina gave a tiny smile. I could tell she was trying not to laugh.
“I feel like we’re gonna look back at this day and laugh,” Samantha said, suddenly sentimental. “Like—wow. That was us. Baby scholars. Literal babies.”
“We still kind of are.”
Diana suddenly gasped. “OH MY GOD. What if ten years from now, isa sa atin pala 'yung may secret anak? Tapos may dramatic reunion sa isang fast food restaurant?”
Seina blinked. “Are you okay?”
“No! Pero masaya 'ko!”
We all burst into laughter again.
"Let's go inside. Our parents may be waiting there." Samantha said and we all nodded.
The air felt heavy, even though it was supposed to be a celebration. Graduation was supposed to feel... happier. But here I was, standing alone with just my Tita as my support. My mommy and papa should've been here, cheering me on. But they weren't.
I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, so I clutched my gown tighter around my shoulders, trying to force the nerves away.
And then—"Atee!!"
I blinked, thinking at first she was calling Athena, but when I looked up, I saw Sylvia running toward me like she was about to leap into my arms. She didn’t even care if it was chaotic or loud or if anyone was watching.
“Atee!!” she squealed, throwing her arms around me once she reached me. "You did it, Cynthia! I’m so proud of you!”
Her little voice was full of pride and excitement, the same way she’d always been—loud, carefree, and cute in that unintentional way that made everyone smile.
I froze for a second, not knowing how to react. Her energy was so different from mine—so loud and bright, like a big burst of light in a room that suddenly felt too dim.
“Wow, I guess you’re her favorite now.” Athena said from behind us, and I could hear the teasing tone in her voice, though it didn't sound mean—just... lighthearted.
I couldn't even manage a smile. I wanted to. I really did. But my throat tightened with a weird mix of happiness and—something else. Maybe I was just too overwhelmed by it all. Graduation. Sylvia. The fact that she cared so much about me.
But before I could say anything, I heard Diana’s voice cut through the moment. “Ay, hindi ko na kaya. Di man lang ni-congratulate ni Sylvia si Ate Diana?! Hindi ako okay!!!”
I turned to see her dramatically clutching her chest as if her heart had been shattered, her pout making it clear she was joking, but still feeling a little left out. Sylvia didn’t even seem to notice, still smiling at me.
Diana’s exaggerated sigh echoed across the yard. “Bakit ganyan, Sylvia? Si Cynthia lang ba may time sa’yo?!”
I felt myself smile at Diana’s usual antics. She was chaotic, always, but somehow, she made everything feel a little lighter. It was like her way of pulling me out of whatever I was feeling.
But as Sylvia hugged me tighter, I realized something that I couldn’t quite explain. Despite the loneliness that graduation day seemed to bring, Sylvia’s presence—her smile, her warmth—felt like a little slice of comfort, like an anchor in the chaos.
And somehow, I realized she was making me feel okay. Even if I didn’t know how to express it properly, I didn’t have to. She already knew.
I sat there, trying to absorb everything Sylvia was saying, but it was hard to keep up. She was always so full of energy, her words tumbling out in an endless stream. I could barely process the rush of excitement in her voice as she turned to me with those bright, eager eyes.
“Cynthia! I like you so much! Like, a lot! You’re the best!” Sylvia declared, her hands flailing as she spoke. She was practically bouncing in her seat, her excitement infectious. I could feel my heart skip a beat at how much she meant every word.
“I promise, when I grow up, I’ll make you so so happy! I’ll give you all the things! All the happiness! Like, I’ll make sure you always have a big smile on your face, always! ‘Cause you deserve it!”
I didn’t know what to say. Sylvia was so… Sylvia. She was the kind of person who said everything in the most endearing way, like she truly believed she could make the world a better place, starting with me. It was a little overwhelming, but it made me feel something I didn’t know how to name.
She kept talking, her words tumbling out faster now. “I’m gonna make you so proud of me, I swear! Like, even if I’m all crazy and talkative, you’ll never get tired of me, okay? ‘Cause I’m gonna be the best best best for you!”
I couldn’t help it.
I felt this warmth spread through me, and a smile—soft and a little shy—crept onto my face.
I wasn’t sure if I should respond or just let her keep going.
My heart was full, my chest tight with something I didn’t quite understand, but I didn’t mind.
It felt nice, hearing her promise all these things.
“So... are you happy, at least? I’m gonna make sure you are!” she asked, her voice filled with such sincerity.
I nodded, my cheeks a little pink. “I’m happy,” I said, quietly, almost to myself. I wasn’t sure if those words would be enough to show her how much she meant to me, but they were the only ones I could offer.
Sylvia grinned, her face lighting up like it was the best thing she’d ever heard. Then, without any warning, she threw her arms around me. I stiffened for a moment, but then I felt her warmth, her small frame hugging me so tightly, like she was trying to hold the world together for both of us.
“I’ll always make you happy, promise!” she whispered, and I could hear the certainty in her voice.
I couldn’t find the words to say, but I didn’t need to. Sylvia already understood, even if I didn’t. She always made me feel okay, even when I couldn’t explain how or why. All I had to do was let her.
I didn’t expect to find myself falling for a child. She was just a child, and yet, somehow, I found myself falling—slowly, steadily—because of her. It didn’t make sense. How could someone so young, so full of energy and innocence, make my heart ache in the most unexpected ways?
When she spoke, her voice was so full of enthusiasm, so pure and untainted by the complexities that came with growing up.
Her words, though sometimes nonsensical and playful, always felt like they held a deeper meaning, like she was trying to express something bigger than herself.
And I—quiet and reserved, unsure of how to respond—found myself drawn to her, not because of anything she was doing intentionally, but because of how she made me feel.
There was something about the way Sylvia spoke, the way she carelessly threw her arms around me, like the world was nothing but a big playground where everything was possible.
I could see how much she wanted to give, how much she wanted to promise, even though she didn’t fully understand what it meant to keep those promises.
And yet, in those moments, I believed her.
I believed every word she said, even when they seemed too big for someone like her.
She made me want to believe in everything—happiness, friendship, love, all of it.
It was a strange feeling, falling for someone who was still so innocent, still so untainted by the harsh realities of the world.
She hadn’t yet learned what it meant to be hurt, to feel conflicted or betrayed.
She hadn’t yet learned how to guard her heart or protect herself from disappointment.
But there I was, overwhelmed by how she made me feel—this warmth, this connection that was so pure and uncomplicated, and yet, so powerful.
I didn’t want to overthink it.
I didn’t want to question why I felt this way.
I knew she was just a child, but the way she looked at me, the way she made me feel—like I was the most important person in the world, like I mattered—made me realize that even in her youth, Sylvia had a way of making me feel things I couldn’t put into words.
So here I was, caught in a strange, unexplainable moment—falling, slowly but surely, for a child. I didn’t know where it would lead, or what it would mean, but I knew that when I looked at her, I felt something deeper than I ever expected.
Something that made me believe, if only for a moment, that maybe there was more to life than just growing up. Maybe, in her innocence, there was a kind of truth I hadn’t yet understood.