Amara's POV
It had been a few days since our vacation at the city park, but the memories of laughter, dancing, and the carefree vibe still lingered. I had enjoyed every bit of it with my friends, especially Ethan and Finn. It felt like a brief escape from the heaviness I usually carried around. But after the vacation ended, reality slowly crept back in, and the weight I had managed to ignore for a few days came crashing down.
Finn had been on my mind constantly. I admired everything about him—the way he handled himself, his quiet confidence, and his kindness. It had taken me time to realize that my feelings for him had grown into something more, but now, I couldn't ignore it any longer.
Monday afternoon, I decided to take a deep breath and confess to Finn. It wasn't easy, and I wasn't sure how he'd respond, but I had to try. I found myself standing in front of my phone, typing and retyping my message. Finally, I sent it.
"Hey Finn, I just wanted to tell you something. It's been on my mind for a while. I think I have feelings for you. I don't expect anything in return, but I just needed to let it out."
I waited anxiously, watching the screen. A minute passed, then two, and finally, the three dots appeared—Finn was typing. My heart pounded, my thoughts racing.
"Hey Amara, thank you for sharing your feelings. I'm really flattered. But... I just got out of a serious relationship, and I'm still healing. You're an amazing person, and I really value our friendship. I hope you understand."
I stared at the message for a few moments, my chest tightening. It wasn't what I had hoped for, but it wasn't a rejection either. He was just... not ready. I forced a smile, typing back.
"Of course, I understand. Let's stay friends, okay?"
"Of course. You're still one of my closest friends, Amara."
That was the end of it. I couldn't lie, it hurt, but what could I do? I couldn't force feelings that weren't there. I had to move forward, but now the weight of another burden pressed down on me—one much bigger than my feelings for Finn.
At home, things were becoming more and more unbearable. My father had his mistress around—someone I now had to call my stepmother, even though she wasn't. My real mother had left us when I was just a little girl, and I barely remembered her. For years, it was just me and my dad, and now this woman was in our lives, complicating things. My dad couldn't handle the financial pressures anymore, and the tuition fees kept piling up. Every day felt like a balancing act between school, home, and the expectations that weighed heavily on my shoulders.
My stepmother, Leila, wasn't cruel, but she wasn't warm either. She had a way of making me feel like a burden without even saying it out loud. There were times when she'd make snide comments about money, about how it was hard to make ends meet with "extra mouths" to feed. And my father—well, he was too tired from work to argue. Most nights, he just stayed silent.
One evening, I sat in my room, staring at the walls, trying to figure out what to do. I needed a solution. I knew I couldn't rely on my father anymore for tuition, and it was obvious that Leila wasn't going to step in and help. I thought about my options. The answer was clear—I needed a job. I couldn't just sit around and let things fall apart around me.
That's when I thought of Ethan. He was already in the process of applying to different BPOs, and he seemed to have his life more figured out than I did. I hesitated for a moment, but then I opened my chat with him.
"Hey Ethan, are you free? I really need to talk to you about something."
Ethan responded almost immediately, as he always did.
"Of course, Amara. What's up?"
I took a deep breath and started typing.
"I've been thinking of applying to a BPO. I need to find a job to help with tuition and stuff at home. Do you think you could help me out with some notes or tips for the interview?"
Ethan's response came quickly again.
"Absolutely! I've got some notes and resources I've gathered. I can send them over in a bit. But Amara, is everything okay? Why are you looking for a job now?"
I paused, wondering how much to tell him. Ethan had been my closest friend for a long time, and I trusted him more than anyone else. I couldn't hold back anymore.
"It's just... things are rough at home. My dad's not really managing the tuition and expenses, and his new... well, stepmom, I guess, isn't exactly helpful. I need to start earning money to support myself. I can't rely on them anymore."
Ethan's reply was more careful this time, as if he was choosing his words thoughtfully.
"I'm really sorry to hear that, Amara. I didn't know things were that tough. But I'm glad you reached out to me. I'll help you however I can. Don't worry, we'll figure this out."
His words brought a strange sense of relief. I wasn't used to sharing this much with anyone, but Ethan made it feel safe. True to his word, he immediately sent me a series of notes he had compiled about answering BPO interview questions.
"Here you go," Ethan messaged. "These are all the questions I've come across so far, and how to handle them. Just take your time with it, okay? And if you have any questions, let me know."
I scrolled through the notes, feeling overwhelmed by his generosity. Ethan didn't have to go out of his way for me, but he always did.
"Thank you so much, Ethan. You have no idea how much this means to me."
"You don't need to thank me. That's what friends are for."
Later that night, as I lay in bed, my thoughts kept drifting back to my family. The tension in our house had become almost unbearable. My stepmother, Leila, had started talking about "cutting costs" and hinted several times that my education was an unnecessary expense. My dad, worn out from work, just nodded along most of the time, never standing up for me.
It was suffocating. Every day felt like a battle, and I didn't know how long I could keep fighting.
A few days later, I called Ethan again. This time, I wasn't just looking for advice on interviews—I needed someone to talk to.
"Ethan, can I vent to you for a bit?"
"Always," he replied, his tone calm and reassuring.
"It's just... it's my dad. He's not the same anymore. Ever since Leila came into our lives, he's been distant. He used to care so much about my education, about my future. Now, it feels like he's just letting everything fall apart. I don't know what to do."
Ethan listened patiently as I poured my heart out. I told him everything—about my mother leaving, about Leila's passive-aggressive comments, and about my dad's growing indifference.
"I'm really sorry you're going through this, Amara," Ethan said softly. "But you're strong. I know you'll get through it, and you're doing the right thing by taking control of your situation. Just remember, you don't have to carry this all by yourself. You have friends who care about you."
His words stuck with me. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn't completely alone in this.
"Thanks, Ethan," I said, my voice quieter now. "I really needed to hear that."
"Anytime," he replied. "And remember, I'm just a message away if you need anything."
As the days passed, I found myself diving deeper into preparing for job interviews. With Ethan's notes, I practiced answering questions, trying to build my confidence. The weight of my family's struggles still loomed over me, but knowing I had a friend like Ethan made it feel a little less heavy.
Third Person's POV
Ethan sat there, staring at his screen as Amara's messages kept pouring in. His heart was heavy as he read about her struggles—about her father's mistress becoming her step-mother and the financial burden she now faced. He could feel the weight of her desperation through her words, even though she tried to mask it with a casual tone. He quickly typed a response, offering his notes about the BPO job interview questions.
"I've gathered a lot of questions from previous interviews, and I'll send them to you, along with tips on how to answer confidently. Don't worry, Amara, you got this."
As he pressed send, his mind began to drift. He had known Amara for quite some time, and she had always been strong in her own way. But hearing about her family situation reminded him of something deeply buried in his past—memories he had tried to forget, but now, with Amara's story, it all came flooding back.
Ethan's fingers hovered over the keyboard as his thoughts spiraled back to when he was younger. He closed his eyes, and the flashbacks came in vivid, sharp detail, hitting him harder than he expected.
It was a cold morning. The sun hadn't even risen yet, and the house was silent, except for the faint snores of his younger brother lying on the mat next to him. Ethan's stomach growled, reminding him that they hadn't eaten dinner the night before. His father had spent whatever little money they had on alcohol again, leaving the rest of the family hungry.
Ethan could still smell the staleness of beer in the air, and his mother's voice broke the silence as she nudged him awake.
"Eth… gising ka na. Gisingin mo na rin kapatid mo," she whispered, exhaustion lacing her words. She had been up all night, dealing with their drunkard father, who was passed out on the couch downstairs.
Reluctantly, Ethan sat up and nudged his younger brother, who groaned and turned over, refusing to get up. Frustration bubbled inside him—he was already tired, and now his brother was acting up. Ethan yanked the mat beneath him, causing his brother to fall onto the hard, cold floor.
"Aray!" his brother yelled, glaring at Ethan. The pain from hitting the ground seemed to snap him awake.
Without missing a beat, his brother, full of anger, lunged at Ethan, ready to fight back. Ethan barely had time to react when suddenly, the plastic thermos vacuum they used for water fell off the small wooden table. It crashed onto the floor, the lid shattering into pieces.
Ethan froze. They both knew what this meant.
Their father, still reeking of last night's alcohol, stumbled upstairs, his face twisted with rage. Ethan's mother tried to intervene, but she was pushed aside like she was nothing. His father's hand gripped Ethan's neck tightly, dragging him by the collar as he screamed profanities.
"Putang ina niyo, bakit kayo ganyan? Wala kayong kwentang mga anak!" His father's voice echoed through the house, venomous and loud.
Ethan's younger brother tried to pull him away, but their father's sheer strength kept them both immobilized. His nails dug deep into their necks, scraping the skin so viciously that blood began to surface. Ethan felt his face being forced down onto the floor, his cheek pressing into the cold, hard concrete, the taste of iron filling his mouth as his lips split from the impact.
His younger brother was crying uncontrollably, wailing as their father's nails raked across his skin, embedding deep marks that would later become scars.
"Stop it!" Ethan's mother screamed from the corner of the room, her voice desperate and full of pain. But she couldn't do anything. She was powerless—just as powerless as they were under the brute strength of their father.
Tears streamed down Ethan's face, not from the physical pain, but from the helplessness of it all. He couldn't fight back. He couldn't protect his brother. They were stuck in this hell, and no one was coming to save them.
Eventually, his father stumbled back downstairs, leaving them in a heap on the floor. Their mother rushed over, cradling their faces, her voice trembling as she cursed quietly under her breath.
"Hayop na tao..." she muttered, her hands shaking as she wiped the blood from Ethan's face.
Ethan blinked, snapping back to the present, his body still tense as if he had just lived through it all over again. His chest felt tight, his throat constricted, but he pushed it all down.
"You can't keep living in the past," he whispered to himself, exhaling slowly.
He glanced back at his phone and saw Amara's message pop up.
"Bakit ang bait mo sa'kin, Ethan? Alam mo naman na wala akong kwenta… I'm just trying to survive. Gusto ko lang makahanap ng trabaho para matulungan ang sarili ko… si Papa kasi, wala na siyang pera pang-tuition, pati yung gastos sa bahay... Ako na nga lang ata nag-aalala sa sarili ko."
Ethan felt a lump form in his throat. He typed back quickly, his fingers shaking slightly from the intensity of his own thoughts.
"Amara, wala kang kwenta? Kung wala kang kwenta, edi ano na lang ako? Listen, you're strong. I've seen you push through so much. Kaya mo 'to. I'll be here, okay?"
There was a long pause before Amara replied.
"Salamat, Ethan. Di ko talaga alam saan ako pupunta kung wala ka eh."
Ethan sat back, staring at the screen. Amara had opened up a deep part of his past that he rarely shared with anyone. He wanted to tell her how much he understood, how he too had felt trapped in an impossible situation, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.
In that flashback, after his father left them battered on the floor, Ethan had made up his mind. He had to leave the house. He couldn't take it anymore. But as he crept out of the house that night, his younger brother had followed him, pleading with him not to go. Annoyed, Ethan had tried to shake him off, telling him to go back, but his brother refused.
Frustrated, Ethan changed directions and led his brother to the banana plantation nearby. As they walked, their mother spotted them. Her face twisted with worry and anger, but when she saw the marks left on their necks, she broke down.
Together, they cried—his mother, his brother, and him. The silence of the banana trees surrounded them as they shared their pain.
Returning to the present once more, Ethan felt that pain resurface, but he pushed it down again, reminding himself that those days were over. He wasn't that helpless kid anymore. He had made it out.
"Amara," he typed, "you're going to make it out too. Trust me."
He hit send, knowing that the words, even though simple, carried the weight of someone who had seen the darkest days and survived.