Chapter Text
Morning in the Robles household moved like a well-rehearsed operation—quiet, efficient, controlled.
Jade stood before the mirror in her room, fastening the last button of her uniform with deliberate precision. The fabric sat perfectly on her shoulders, pressed and immaculate, just like everything else in the house. She tilted her head slightly, examining her reflection. Sharp eyes. Calm expression. The kind of confidence that had been practiced long enough to feel natural, even when it wasn’t.
Downstairs, the scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the wide halls.
She descended the staircase, footsteps echoing softly against polished marble floors. The dining table was already set—white porcelain, silver cutlery aligned just so. Her parents sat across from each other, both dressed in tailored attire despite the early hour, tablets and newspapers beside their plates.
“Good morning,” Jade said lightly, taking her seat.
Her mother glanced up first. “You’re up early.”
“First day,” Jade replied with a small smile. “Thought I’d make a good impression.”
Her father folded his newspaper, eyes briefly scanning her uniform. “You always do.”
A compliment, perhaps. Or an expectation.
Breakfast passed with the hum of conversation Jade had heard her entire life.
“The zoning approval went through,” her father said, stirring his coffee. “We’ll be breaking ground earlier than expected.”
Her mother nodded. “The council was cooperative?”
“Influence helps,” he said plainly. “It always does.”
Jade buttered her toast slowly, eyes down. “Convenient.”
Her father chuckled. “That’s one word for it.”
“There’s a luncheon next week sa club,” her mother added. “Some board members are bringing their children. You might meet a few familiar names.”
Jade looked up, crooked smile and effortless. “Networking agad? I haven’t even survived my first quiz yet.”
“You’re a Robles,” her father said. “Survival isn’t the issue.”
There it was.
She took a sip of juice, buying herself a second before responding. “I’m planning on surviving on my own merits, actually.”
Her mother’s brow lifted slightly, but her tone remained calm. “Of course. The name simply opens doors.”
Jade met her gaze, still smiling. “I’d rather knock.”
A brief silence followed—not uncomfortable, just… measured.
Her father studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Ambition suits you.”
Rebellion does too, she thought, but didn’t say it.
When breakfast ended, Jade stood and leaned down to kiss her mother’s cheek, then her father’s. “Wish me luck.”
“You won’t need it,” her father said.
Outside, the car waited by the gate, glossy and imposing. Kuya Lando—someone who had known Jade since she was young—opened the door for her.
“First day, Ma’am?” he asked warmly.
“Opo, Kuya.” she replied with a grin, sliding into the backseat.
As the car pulled away, the city unfolded beyond the tinted windows. Buildings rose and fell, people moved in clusters, traffic hummed like a living thing. Jade watched it all pass, feeling strangely distant from it—like she was observing a world she was meant to inherit, but not necessarily belong to.
Her reflection stared back at her in the glass—composed, elegant, untouchable.
She exhaled quietly.
“Let’s get this over with,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
The car turned toward the school gates, and Jade straightened in her seat, slipping easily into the role she knew so well—confident, charming, and entirely unprepared for the collision waiting for her on the other side of those gates.
Stella woke before her alarm went off.
She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the muted sounds of the house coming alive—the distant clink of ceramic, the low murmur of voices, the hum of an early morning news report drifting from the kitchen. Her body moved before her thoughts caught up, muscle memory honed from years of routine.
She dressed quickly, movements efficient and unremarkable. Uniform pressed. Hair pulled back neatly. No mirror linger, no second-guessing. She didn’t need to see herself to know she looked presentable. That wasn’t the point.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled faintly of coffee and disinfectant wipes—comforting, in a way. Her parents sat at the table, already half-done with breakfast. Both wore the quiet exhaustion of people who healed others for a living.
“Morning,” Stella said, taking her seat.
Her mother looked up, eyes softening immediately. “Good morning, baby. You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Stella replied, reaching for her mug.
Her father smiled faintly. “First day nerves?”
“Something like that. Got assigned sa new section po.”
They ate in comfortable rhythm, broken only by conversation that never really left the world of medicine.
“We had a pediatric case last night,” her mother said, stirring sugar into her coffee. “Six years old. Appendicitis that almost went septic.”
Stella paused. “She’s okay?”
“Yes,” her mother said. “Caught it just in time.”
Her father nodded. “Reminds you why timing matters.”
“And why precision does,” her mother added. “Mistakes don’t get second chances.”
Stella absorbed the words quietly, as she always did.
Her father glanced at her over his glasses. “This school will push you.”
“Yes po.”
“You’ll meet people who are brilliant,” her mother said gently. “And people who think they are.”
A corner of Stella’s mouth twitched. “I can tell the difference.”
“That confidence is good,” her father said. “Just don’t let it turn into arrogance.”
“I won’t.”
Her mother reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “We’re proud of you.”
The words warmed her chest—and tightened it, too.
Outside, her parents’ car waited. Stella slid into the backseat, backpack resting neatly at her feet. As her father pulled onto the road, her mother turned slightly in her seat.
“Remember,” she said, “discipline will take you further than talent ever will.”
Stella nodded. “I know.”
“And humility,” her father added. “No matter how good you are.”
“I know, daddy.” she repeated, softer this time.
The school gates came into view—tall, imposing, almost ceremonial. Stella watched students filter in, clusters of laughter and nervous energy filling the space.
Her mother glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You’ll be fine.”
Stella met her gaze. “I don’t plan on being anything else.”
The car came to a stop. Stella stepped out, straightening her uniform once more before slinging her bag over her shoulder. As the car drove away, the noise of the campus swallowed her whole.
She took a breath.
Focus, she told herself. Observe. Adapt.
Stella walked through the gates with steady steps, her expression calm, her guard firmly in place—unaware that somewhere inside those walls was a presence that would challenge everything she thought she had carefully prepared for.
Jade stepped out of the car like she belonged exactly where she was.
The gate loomed tall and ornamental, iron bars gleaming under the morning sun, the school crest proudly displayed at the center. Students were already gathering—some laughing too loudly, others clinging to schedules and nerves—but the moment Jade appeared, attention subtly shifted. It always did.
“Good luck, Ma’am,” the driver said, stepping out to open the door fully.
Jade smiled, effortless and bright. “Salamat, Kuya Lando. I’ll need it.”
She adjusted the strap of her bag and walked forward, shoes clicking softly against stone. Whispers from freshmen followed her—not loud, not obvious, but present.
“Si Robles yun diba?”
“Yeah. Yung anak ni Victor Robles.”
“No way—she’s here pala?”
Jade didn’t slow down. She never did. Years of practice had taught her how to glide past curiosity like it was background noise. She lifted her chin slightly, eyes scanning the campus with interest rather than awe. The buildings were impressive, manicured lawns stretching wide and green, banners welcoming nstudents fluttering above.
She reached the gate just as a small group of students paused to take pictures. Jade stepped around them smoothly, already planning where she’d go first—admin office, classroom, maybe the library—when a sudden movement from her right caught her attention.
Someone walked straight into her.
It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was abrupt—shoulder to shoulder, momentum briefly disrupted. Jade instinctively stepped back, her bag swinging slightly. At the same time, a laminated ID slipped from someone’s hand and fluttered to the ground between them.
“Oh—” Jade started, then stopped.
The girl in front of her was… striking. Not in the loud way people usually were, but in a quiet, contained way. Tall, posture straight, expression unreadable. Dark eyes already assessing the situation with clinical precision.
Jade bent down and picked up the ID before the other girl could react.
“Awit,” Jade said lightly, holding it up. “ID, Miss.”
The girl’s eyes flicked to the ID in Jade’s hand. “Ikaw nakabangga sakin.”
Jade blinked, then laughed softly. “Bold accusation. I was standing very still.”
“That doesn’t negate spatial awareness,” the girl replied flatly.
Jade raised a brow, clearly amused. “Wow. Okay.”
She glanced down at the ID. Sevilleja, Stella Ainsley. Jade looked back up. “Stella Sevilleja. Noted.”
Stella extended her hand, not smiling. “ID ko.”
Jade placed it into her palm—but didn’t immediately let go. “First day?”
Stella narrowed her eyes slightly. “Isn’t it everyone’s?”
“Fair point,” Jade conceded, finally releasing the card. “Jaden Chase. Jade nalang.”
“I didn’t ask.”
Jade’s smile widened, unmistakably entertained. “And yet, here we are.”
Stella tucked the ID back into her bag with precise movements. “Try watching where you’re going next time.”
“Try loosening up,” Jade shot back easily. “It’s a school, not a courtroom.”
Stella met her gaze, sharp and unyielding. “Standards apply everywhere.”
For a brief second, the noise around them faded. Jade studied her—how Stella didn’t fidget, didn’t look away, didn’t seem remotely impressed. That alone was novel.
“Well,” Jade said after a beat, stepping aside to clear the path, “good luck surviving the day.”
“Di ko kailangan ng good luck mo,” Stella replied, already moving past her.
Jade turned to watch her walk away, lips parted in surprise before curving into a slow, intrigued smile.
Interesting.
Behind her, someone nudged Jade’s arm. “Jade! That was… intense,” Mikaela said, eyes wide with barely-contained laughter.
“Who was that?” Aya asked.
Jade didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze lingered on Stella’s retreating figure—how she walked with purpose, shoulders squared, not once glancing back.
“Problema,” Jade said finally, tone light but thoughtful. “I can already tell.”
Across the courtyard, Stella paused briefly near the bulletin board, adjusting her bag. She felt it then—the unmistakable sensation of being watched. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t need to.
Annoying, she thought. Distracting.
And yet.
She stepped forward again, jaw set, already cataloguing classrooms and exits, pushing the encounter neatly into the mental drawer labeled irrelevant.
Neither of them noticed how the morning seemed to hold its breath—how something subtle but irrevocable had shifted the moment their paths collided.
They would later argue about who walked into whom.
They would never argue about what started there.
The classroom smelled faintly of fresh paint and polished wood, the kind of smell that reminded students they were in a place designed to mold the “best” from the rest. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, catching dust motes in the air like tiny golden specks.
Jade Robles stepped inside with the same ease she carried everywhere, her bag slung over one shoulder. Heads turned automatically, though she barely registered it. She was used to attention. She preferred it subtle, not overt—eyes following her without anyone having to say her name.
The teacher, a middle-aged man with a keen eye for detail, cleared his throat. “Welcome to your first day, everyone. I expect you to approach this class with diligence, respect, and curiosity. Let’s start with introductions. Please tell us your name, and one academic achievement you’re proud of.”
Jade’s turn came first. She rose smoothly, her movements practiced and confident.
“Jaden Chase Robles.” she began, voice calm but warm, carrying a rhythm that made her sound both approachable and undeniably authoritative. “I was top of the class last year and joined a few debate competitions, and I’ve published a few editorials for our school paper.”
A few students whispered among themselves, impressed. A hand shot up in the back, and someone muttered, “Siya nga.” Jade’s lips curved in a small, polite smile that didn’t seek approval but acknowledged it anyway.
The teacher nodded, scribbling notes. “Wow, Miss Robles. Impressive.”
Then came Stella. She rose with quiet precision, her uniform immaculate, bag neatly folded beside her desk. Her voice was soft but steady, each word measured.
“Stella Ainsley Sevilleja. I’ve participated in a pediatric volunteering program and assisted in a small-scale clinical research project during the last summer.”
She paused, letting the information settle—not with showmanship, but with authority. No flourish. No unnecessary adjectives. Just facts.
The class murmured again, but differently this time—less awe, more respect. There was a subtle weight to her presence that made other students instinctively straighten in their seats.
The teacher’s eyes flicked between the two. He cleared his throat. “Hmm… we seem to have a tie already.”
“Got yourself a match there, Jaden.” Mikaela whispered.
Jade smirked. A small upward tilt of the lips, not arrogant, just amused—recognizing a challenge she hadn’t expected so soon.
Stella, on the other hand, didn’t react. Her expression remained calm, neutral, betraying nothing. She wasn’t amused, nor annoyed—only aware. Observing. Judging.
“Top of the class naman pala.” Jade murmured under her breath, just loud enough for the person seated next to her to catch it. Her eyes flicked to Stella. “Looks like I might finally meet my match.”
Stella, sitting primly at her desk now, didn’t look up. She simply adjusted her bag strap and said softly to herself, though Jade caught the words, “We’ll see.”
Jade leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against her notebook. Interesting, she thought. She doesn’t smirk. She doesn’t blush. She’s… unnervingly composed.
Stella, meanwhile, kept her gaze on her notes, fingers tapping lightly. She’s smirking, she noted silently. Annoying. But capable.
Neither of them knew it yet, but that small, taut tension in the air—Jade’s playful curiosity meeting Stella’s precise reserve—was the beginning of a rivalry that would define every interaction for years to come.
And just like that, in a room full of new faces, the first unspoken challenge had been issued.
The classroom buzzed with the low hum of students finding their seats. Sunshine streamed in from tall windows, bouncing off polished desks. Jade strolled in, scanning the room with the casual ease of someone who knew exactly how to make an entrance without needing to.
Her eyes landed on her assigned seat—and froze.
The desk at the center of the row, perfectly positioned for both focus and visibility… was directly beside Stella.
She tilted her head slightly, a smirk tugging at her lips.
Stella, meanwhile, had arrived moments earlier and slid into her seat with calculated precision. She adjusted her bag beside her, straightened her posture, and set her notebook in perfect alignment with the desk edge. When her eyes flicked up, they met Jade’s—calm, neutral, assessing.
For a moment, neither moved. A silent standoff stretched between them, a quiet electricity that made a few students glance over, sensing the tension.
Jade leaned slightly back in her chair, smirking. “I suppose we’re neighbors now, Sevilleja” she said casually.
Stella didn’t flinch. “Seems so.”
No handshake. No smile. Just an acknowledgement that neither of them would yield. The rest of the students shuffled around them, whispering and stealing curious glances, but the two of them remained locked in their own small universe of rivalry.
Challenge accepted, Jade thought, tapping her pen against the desk.
The teacher clapped her hands, breaking the tension. “All right, class, let’s start with a warm-up exercise. I’ll call on the first hand raised. Who can tell me the main theme of George Orwell’s Animal Farm?”
A few students hesitated. Jade’s hand shot up immediately. Stella’s followed in a blink. The teacher pointed to Stella first.
Stella stood, voice calm and measured. “The main theme is how power can corrupt, showing that revolutions can fail when leaders become as oppressive as those they replaced.”
A few classmates whispered in admiration. “Wews…”
The teacher nodded. “Very clear and concise. Good.”
Then he turned to Jade. “Ms. Robles?”
Jade rose with practiced poise, smoothing her skirt. “While I agree with Ms. Sevilleja’s answer, I’d add that Orwell also warns about the dangers of blind loyalty and propaganda, how people can be manipulated if they don’t question authority. So, the theme is both power and the importance of critical thinking.”
The class murmured, impressed again—some leaning forward, others scribbling notes.
The teacher leaned back, smiling. “Two correct answers. Both strong, both thoughtful. Excellent work, ladies.”
Jade smirked at Stella. Stella’s eyes flicked to hers—cool, unamused, precise. Neither smiled, but the intensity was palpable.
Aya whispered from behind Jade, barely audible, “Oh… this is going to be interesting.”
Shane replied quietly, “And a little messy.”
Jade tapped her pen against the desk, satisfaction hidden in her calm expression. Sharp. Quick. Worth keeping an eye on.
Stella, meanwhile, leaned slightly forward, reviewing her notebook internally. She’s confident… but that doesn’t mean she’s better than me.
The classroom had witnessed more than two correct answers. The rivalry that started with a shoulder brush and a smirk had just solidified—a silent agreement that neither would back down.
And though neither would admit it, both were secretly looking forward to the next challenge.
By the time the bell rang for lunch, the first class jitters had settled, and students filed into the cafeteria, chatting and finding their usual spots.
Jade found her circle quickly—Cole, Aya, and Mikaela. “Finally!” Mikaela said, waving as Jade approached. “Kala ko naligaw ka na. Daming tao eh.” Cole added
Jade rolled her eyes, smirking. “Ligaw amp? Never. I was merely assessing the competition.”
Mikaela laughed. “Competition? You mean her?” she whispered, nodding toward the opposite side of the cafeteria where a tall, composed girl walked with a quiet presence.
Jade’s eyes followed briefly. “Ah…Sevilleja? She’s interesting.”
Aya grinned. “Interesting? You sound intrigued.”
Jade smirked, tilting her head. “Unang step bg strategy: observation.”
Across the room, Stella walked with calm precision. Marielle, Gabby, and Shane trailed alongside her—students she had quickly formed a small, tight-knit circle with over the past few weeks. Mutual respect, shared classes, and common sense of discipline had bonded them quietly but strongly.
Shane nudged Stella lightly. “Kita mo yun? Si Jaden. People are already calling her… loud.”
Stella’s eyes flicked to the other table but she didn’t react. “We’re here to eat, not comment.”
Marielle leaned in, whispering, “Confident siya. Maging aware ka, pero wag ka papa distract.”
Stella gave the smallest nod. Her gaze briefly lingered, analytical and cautious. There was something about the way Jade carried herself—easy, unbothered, magnetic—that irked her more than she wanted to admit.
The cafeteria tables became their first unofficial territory lines. Jade’s table near the windows buzzed with laughter and light teasing. Stella’s table near the back was quiet, composed, but observant.
Mikaela leaned toward Jade, whispering conspiratorially, “Mukha siyang seryoso, but I bet she’s hiding something.”
Jade smirked knowingly. “Good. I like a challenge.”
Shane, watching Stella, muttered under his breath, “Cute. Definitely cute. Medyo pogi din.”
Stella caught the remark with a subtle glance, but her expression remained neutral. Irrelevant. Focus.
The air between the two tables hummed faintly with curiosity, awareness, and unspoken tension—a line that had been drawn, and neither side fully understood how deep it would grow.
And just like that, the first day of junior year had set the stage for something neither of them would ever forget.
The hallways ckers slamming, students laughing, footsteps echoing on the tile floors. Jade Robles walked down the corridor with her usual effortless poise, sliding her bag over one shoulder, every movement controlled, every smile measured. She was used to attention. She expected it. But today, it felt different.
A cluster of juniors by the lockers whispered as she passed.
“Si Robles…” one voice murmured.
Jade stiffened. Her hand instinctively tightened on her bag strap. What? Si… Robles? The phrase—meant to invoke awe or fear—stirred a knot in her stomach. She had never liked being the kind of person people were afraid of. People should be impressed, amused, intrigued—but not scared. That thought made her jaw tighten.
She slowed, letting her eyes skim over the students who were talking. Some glanced away, eyes wide. Some whispered again, just loud enough to be caught.
“I… don’t want to feel like they’re afraid of me,” she muttered under her breath, the words sounding strange even to her own ears. “I’m not that person…”
Mikaela, walking beside her, nudged Jade gently. “Relax. Puro issue yan mga yan. That’s all. Let them talk.”
Jade shook her head, letting out a short, sharp laugh. “They don’t understand. Being noticed is one thing. Being feared? That’s… uncomfortable.”
She kept walking, chest tight, yet her head held high. Inside, a part of her silently vowed: I’ll fix this. No one’s going to fear me. They’ll respect me. That’s different.
A few hallways down, Stella navigated through her own current of students, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. Marielle and Shane flanked her, keeping conversation minimal, letting Stella observe the hallway on her own.
A pair of students by the lockers whispered as she passed.
“Kaka intimidate naman to,” one said, voice low but unmistakable.
Stella’s eyes flicked toward them briefly, expression calm, almost neutral—but inside, satisfaction bubbled. Yes. Good. She straightened slightly, shoulders back. People who respected her space, who recognized that she was not to be trifled with—those were the people she wanted around her. She preferred awareness over casual familiarity, intimidation over casual disregard.
“They understand boundaries,” she murmured to herself, a subtle smile gracing her lips. “Exactly the way it should be.”
Marielle raised an eyebrow. “You really like that, huh?”
“I do,” Stella admitted, shrugging lightly. “Better to be respected than liked.”
Jade rounded the corner, Stella moving in the opposite direction, and for a brief moment their gazes crossed. There was recognition—not just of presence, but of the aura that each carried: confidence, control, and an intensity that made the hallways feel smaller, more charged.
Both girls bristled, though for different reasons.
Jade bristled because she had been labeled as someone to fear, something she desperately didn’t want to be. She wanted curiosity, challenge, friendship—but fear? No.
Stella bristled because people were finally reacting exactly the way she wanted. Respect mixed with a little apprehension. It was validation—but one she would never voice.
Their eyes met for only a heartbeat before both turned away, walking their separate paths through the crowded corridor. Yet neither could deny the silent acknowledgment between them: this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Interesting, Jade thought, catching a flash of Stella’s composed figure before it disappeared around the corner. I need to watch her.
Curious, Stella thought as she adjusted her bag. She seems… too bold. I like that.
The hallway hummed around them, oblivious to the tension—unseen by anyone but them—but a subtle current had begun. A rivalry had begun in whispers, in looks, in unspoken challenges. And they had only just started.
The classroom felt different in the afternoon—heavier, quieter, as if the walls themselves were settling in for something serious. Sunlight slanted through the windows at an angle that caught the edges of desks and notebooks, turning the room warm and tense all at once. The subject written on the board was deceptively simple:
FAIRNESS VS. RULES
Mr. Alonzo leaned against the teacher’s desk, arms crossed. “Okay, class,” he said, scanning the room. “Today’s question is this: When rules are unfair, should they be followed or challenged?”
A murmur rippled through the class. Some students shifted in their seats, others leaned forward, already curious. Jade straightened, interest sparking immediately. A few seats away, Stella’s pen paused mid-note.
“Let’s keep this respectful,” Mr. Alonzo continued. “Walang tama o maling sagot. Just your reasoning.”
Jade’s hand went up almost instantly.
“Yes, Ms. Robles?”
Jade stood, shoulders relaxed, voice confident. “Rules exist for order, sure—but fairness is about people. If a rule hurts more than it helps, then it deserves to be questioned. Blindly following something just because it’s written down doesn’t make it right.”
A few heads nodded. Someone whispered, “May point.”
Jade continued, warming to the topic. “History is full of progress because someone chose interpretation over obedience. Rules should adapt to context, not the other way around.”
Mr. Alonzo nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting. May iba pa bang sasagot?”
Stella’s hand rose—not rushed, not hesitant. Just precise.
“Yes, Ms. Sevilleja.”
Stella stood, posture straight, voice calm but firm. “Rules exist to protect everyone equally. If individuals decide which rules to follow based on personal judgment, fairness becomes subjective. Consistency is what prevents chaos.”
A few students exchanged glances.
She continued, eyes briefly flicking toward Jade—not confrontational, just aware. “If a rule is flawed, there are systems in place to change it. But until then, responsibility means upholding it. Otherwise, power shifts to whoever speaks the loudest.”
The room went quiet.
Jade turned toward her fully now, a spark lighting in her eyes. “But systems move slowly,” she said, not waiting to be called see but careful not to interrupt. “Nagdudusa ang mga tao habang iniintay nila na mabigyan sila ng permiso para gawin kung ano ang tama.”
“And people suffer when everyone believes they’re the exception,” Stella replied evenly. “Discipline exists so no one decides their own importance.”
Mr. Alonzo raised a hand gently. “Let’s keep it one at a time.”
Jade exhaled a small laugh, but it wasn’t mocking—it was energized. “Hindi ko naman sinabi na walang kwenta yung mga rules. I’m saying fairness can’t be reduced to policy. Context matters. Intent matters.”
“And accountability matters,” Stella said. “If rules bend for some, they break for others.”
A hum of tension settled over the class. Students leaned in, captivated.
“So what?” Jade challenged, eyes bright. “We ignore injustice because it’s written down?”
“So what?” Stella countered, tone steady but sharpened. “We excuse selfishness because someone felt justified?”
They stared at each other across the desks, neither aggressive, neither backing down. It wasn’t anger—it was recognition. Two minds colliding, not to dominate, but to test.
Mr. Alonzo finally stepped in, smiling faintly. “You’ve both made strong arguments. Ms. Robles emphasizes moral flexibility. Ms. Sevilleja emphasizes structural responsibility. These aren’t opposites—they’re tensions society lives in.”
Jade tilted her head slightly, unconvinced. Stella crossed her arms, equally unmoved.
The bell rang shortly after, breaking the moment like glass.
As students packed up, whispers filled the room.
“That was intense.”
“Pusta na kayo Robles o Sevilleja.”
“Bagay sila. Hashtag new ship.” That was Shane talking to Cole.
Jade slung her bag over her shoulder, glancing once toward Stella. “You’re stubborn,” she said lightly, though her eyes were sharp.
Stella met her gaze without hesitation. “So are you.”
Jade smiled, small and genuine. “This isn’t over.”
“It rarely is,” Stella replied.
They walked out in opposite directions—but something lingered in the air behind them, something unresolved and quietly electric.
The argument wasn’t just about rules or fairness.
It was about who they were—and who they would become.
The hallway had thinned into a slow-moving current of students waiting for their last class. The earlier intensity of debates and whispered reputations had dulled into end-of-day fatigue—lockers creaking open, footsteps dragging, laughter softer now.
Stella walked with her usual purpose, arms full of neatly stacked notebooks and loose papers she had reorganized twice already. She was halfway to her locker when someone bumped into her from behind.
“Sorry—!”
The word barely finished before it happened.
Her grip slipped.
Notes spilled across the floor in a quiet cascade—pages sliding, corners curling, inked margins flashing up at the fluorescent lights.
Stella froze.
For half a second, she stared at the mess like it was an accusation.
“Great,” she muttered under her breath, kneeling quickly. Her movements were efficient, controlled—but irritation flared just beneath the surface. She hated disorder. Hated attention. Hated moments like this.
A shadow fell across the floor.
“Hey—wait.”
Jade was already crouching down beside her, fingers scooping up a page before Stella could stop her.
“I’ve got it,” Stella said quickly, reaching out.
Their hands collided.
Too fast. Too close.
Jade’s fingers brushed Stella’s knuckles—warm, brief, unmistakable. Stella inhaled sharply before she could stop herself. Jade stilled, eyes flicking up to meet hers.
“Oh,” Jade said quietly.
For a moment, neither moved.
The hallway noise faded to a distant blur. Jade noticed details she hadn’t before—the neat handwriting covering the margins of Stella’s notes, the faint crease between her brows, the way her lashes cast shadows against her cheeks when she looked down.
“Intense ng notes mo ah,” Jade said lightly, trying to break the silence. “You annotate like the textbook personally offended you.”
Stella blinked, then pulled her hand back, reclaiming the page. “Organization prevents mistakes.”
Jade smiled faintly. “Spoken like someone who’s never lost a debate on a technicality.”
Stella glanced at her. “Spoken like someone who relies on charm.”
Jade laughed softly, unoffended. “Guilty.”
They continued picking up the papers, side by side, movements awkward now—too aware of each other’s presence. Jade handed Stella a page, careful not to touch her again.
“Here,” she said. “Page three.”
Stella accepted it. “Thanks.”
The words came out quieter than she intended.
Jade’s smile softened. “You’re welcome.”
Another pause.
It stretched—uncomfortable, unhurried, charged.
Jade straightened first, dusting off her hands. “Alam mo,” she said casually, “you’re not as terrifying up close. Ganda mo pala.”
Stella did not flinch and stood as well, clutching her notes. “Share mo lang.”
Jade grinned. “I’ll take that as progress.”
Stella didn’t smile—but her eyes lingered a second longer than necessary before she turned away.
The last bell loomed like a promise.
Students poured into the hallways, voices rising again, backpacks slung hastily over shoulders. Jade walked slower than usual, scanning the crowd without fully understanding why.
She spotted Stella near the stairwell, standing alone for once, flipping through her notes as if she hadn’t already memorized them.
Jade hesitated.
Say something, a voice in her head urged. Anything.
She stepped closer. “Sevilleja.”
Stella looked up.
“What?”
Jade opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “Yung kanina sa klase—”
“I stand by what I said,” Stella replied immediately, not unkind, just firm.
Jade chuckled. “I figured. I wasn’t going to argue. Well—okay, maybe a little.”
Stella tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because,” Jade said, choosing her words carefully, “people who think like you are… rare.”
Stella studied her, guarded but curious. “That wasn’t a compliment.”
“It was,” Jade said softly. “Just not an easy one.”
For a moment, it felt like the hallway narrowed around them. Like if one of them spoke again, something would change.
Stella inhaled, clearly about to respond—
The dismissal bell cut through the air, loud and final.
Students surged between them instantly, laughter and shouting breaking the fragile bubble. Jade stepped back automatically as someone bumped her shoulder.
By the time the noise settled, Stella was already moving away.
“Sevilleja,” Jade called again, almost without thinking.
Stella paused—but only for a second.
“Ano na naman?”
Jade hesitated again. The words she wanted didn’t feel ready yet. “See you tomorrow,” she said instead.
Stella nodded once. “Tomorrow.”
And then she was gone.
Jade stood there longer than she meant to, heart beating just a little faster than it should have.
Across the campus, Stella descended the stairs, her grip tightening briefly around her notes.
That was unnecessary, she told herself.
Neither of them looked back.
Both of them thought about it anyway.
Some moments didn’t need resolution to linger.
They just needed time.
The campus exhaled as the last bell faded into the afternoon air.
Students poured through the gates in loose clusters, laughter echoing against concrete walls, the sharp smell of heat and asphalt mixing with the fading scent of classroom chalk and paper. The day had been long, heavy with first impressions and small battles no one else seemed to notice.
Jade lingered near the steps of the main building, bag slung over her shoulder, posture relaxed—but her attention wasn’t.
Her gaze followed a familiar figure moving toward the exit.
Stella walked with the same controlled precision she had all day, notes tucked securely under her arm, head high, expression unreadable. She didn’t blend into the crowd; the crowd bent subtly around her, as if people instinctively knew better than to get in her way.
Jade smiled without realizing she was doing it.
Not a wide grin—nothing obvious. Just a small, slow curve of her lips that spoke of interest more than amusement.
“Wow.”
The word came from beside her.
Mikaela leaned in, eyes flicking between Jade and the retreating figure. “Lawak ng ngiti.”
Jade blinked. “Gago hindi kaya.”
Mikaela folded her arms, unimpressed. “You absolutely are. And let me guess—that’s about Stella.”
Jade scoffed lightly, tearing her eyes away at last. “Eme mo.”
“Jaden,” Mikaela said, dragging out her name. “You only get that look when someone challenges you.”
“I get that look when someone’s annoying,” Jade corrected, though her smile lingered.
“Same thing,” Mikaela replied. “So… kamusta?”
“Challenging,” Jade said easily. “Pero good challenging. Gets ba?”
Mikaela hummed. “Saks lang. Ganda ba?”
Jade shot her a look. “Tanginang tanong yan. We’re in the same class. Yun na yon.”
“And now she lives rent-free in your head?”
“Absolutely not,” Jade said, a little too fast. “She’s just… interesting.”
Mikaela grinned. “Dangerous word.”
Across the courtyard, Stella reached the gates. She slowed, just slightly—so subtly she could have denied it if anyone asked. A strange awareness prickled at the back of her neck.
She turned.
Jade stood there, framed by the warm afternoon light, laughing at something Mikaela had just said. She looked relaxed. Unbothered. Entirely too confident.
Stella felt a flicker of irritation rise in her chest.
Why is she looking at me like that?
And yet—curiosity followed close behind, unwelcome but persistent.
She held Jade’s gaze for a brief moment, eyes narrowing just enough to convey a silent warning before turning away again.
Annoying, she decided.
Intriguing, she admitted quietly to herself.
Jade caught the glance and laughed softly under her breath. “Oo nga,” she murmured.
Mikaela raised a brow. “Anong oo nga?”
“She’s going to be a problem.”
Mikaela’s smile widened. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Jade watched Stella disappear beyond the gates, something settling deep in her chest—unfamiliar, unresolved. “It probably is.”
On the other side of the campus, Stella descended the steps toward her ride, fingers tightening briefly around her notes.
She’s going to be a problem, Stella thought, jaw setting with determination.
Not a threat. Not a fear.
A challenge.
Neither of them knew it yet.
That this wasn’t a rivalry that would end in victory or defeat.
That there would be no clean win, no final word, no moment where one walked away unscathed.
Only this—
A tension that would follow them, shape them, and eventually, change everything.