It was raining hard on the campus, the type of downpour that almost erased visibility and drowned out sounds. Thunder boomed occasionally, echoing through the empty school grounds. A single car was parked on the side of the road, its back door slightly ajar. Inside, a child's loud cries could be faintly heard through the storm. There was no one else around; the campus was eerily deserted under the weight of the rain.
Another car, its headlights piercing the gloom, passed by and slowed. The driver, a man in his 30s, couldn't ignore the unsettling sight. He parked his vehicle a safe distance away and stepped out cautiously, umbrella in hand. As he approached the car, he noticed the crying child staring out the window, eyes red and puffy. The child's sobs grew louder as lightning illuminated the scene, revealing a chilling sight. He peered closer and froze in shock—a woman and a man, both unconscious, lay in the front seats. His breathing quickened as panic set in. He gripped his umbrella tighter, unsure of what to do next. The storm raged on, its unrelenting force matching the turmoil in his mind.
The storm continued to rage as the scene faded into the brightness of morning.
The sun shone brightly, casting its warm glow on the campus as Rick arrived with his usual bicycle. This time, he carried an extra bag. His Lolo Tecio had cooked his favorite tortang talong for lunch, which meant he could save some money. Grateful for the small gesture, Rick headed straight to the lockers to prepare for swimming practice.
The locker room buzzed with activity as teammates chatted and joked around while getting ready. Rick, however, stayed focused as he changed into his swimwear. His lean, toned physique reflected the discipline of hours spent training. As he zipped up his bag, Kevin entered, his usual confident demeanor replaced by something more subdued.
Rick approached Kevin with a friendly smile. "How long is practice today?"
Kevin replied curtly, "Not long."
His tone was unusually clipped, but Rick chose not to dwell on it.
The training was intense as each swimmer pushed themselves to beat their personal records. Rick was laser-focused, every stroke precise, every kick powerful. The water splashed and churned around him, but his mind stayed on the goal.
Meanwhile, Troy entered the pool area, casually leaning against the railing. He stood at the sidelines, watching Rick in action with a mix of curiosity and amusement. When Rick climbed out of the pool, droplets streaming down his face, he was surprised to see Troy waiting.
"Troy? What are you doing here?" Rick asked, catching his breath.
Troy shrugged, a sly smile on his face. "Just curious. Wanted to see how the swimming team trains. Maybe we can pick up some tips. We got a tournament next month. Perhaps we get to see new drill from the swimming team."
Rick laughed, shaking his head. "Not sure how swimming tips will help with football, but okay."
In a hurry to attend his next class, Rick bid Troy goodbye and jogged off, leaving Troy alone by the now-calm pool.
Later, in the cafeteria, Tristan sat at his usual spot, engrossed in his book. Beside him, Rick had dozed off, his head resting on folded arms. Tristan flipped the pages, deeply immersed in the story. Fey entered the cafeteria and chose a table nearby, her gaze briefly sweeping over Tristan. Unlike before, she didn't attempt to engage with him. Perhaps she was still nursing the sting of his brusque dismissal.
Rick stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Tristan nudged him. "Wake up. We're going to the market, remember? Troy needs our help buying flowers for his mom's birthday."
Rick groaned but got up, grabbing his bag.
The market was bustling with activity. Vendors called out to passersby, offering everything from fresh produce to handmade crafts. The air was thick with the scent of flowers, fruits, and spices.
"This place is overwhelming," Tristan muttered, clearly out of his element. Rick chuckled at his friend's discomfort.
They wandered through the stalls, searching for the perfect flower vendor. After some time, they found a vibrant stand brimming with blossoms of every color imaginable. Tristan's eyes widened in awe at the array of options.
"Which one's the most expensive?" he asked the vendor, his tone unintentionally haughty.
The vendor, an older woman with a kind smile, raised an eyebrow. "Price shouldn't be the main thing, young man. What's the reason for the flowers? Are they for someone you love or someone you hate?"
Tristan blinked, startled by the blunt question. "They're for my mom," he replied, his tone softening.
Rick helped him select a mix of elegant blooms. Together with the vendor, they arranged the flowers into a stunning bouquet. Tristan seemed satisfied, though slightly embarrassed by his initial attitude.
That evening, Rick accompanied Tristan to his house for the birthday celebration. The mansion was massive, its minimalist design a testament to wealth and sophistication. Guards greeted them at the gate before directing them to the pool area, where the party was underway.
Tristan's mother, Ms. Margareth, was seated by the pool, a glass of wine in hand, exuding an air of effortless elegance. She turned as Tristan approached, her face lighting up when she saw him.
"Happy birthday, Mom," Tristan said, presenting her with the bouquet.
"And who's this?" she asked, her gaze settling on Rick.
"This is Rick, my friend from school," Tristan introduced.
Rick offered a polite nod.
Tristan's mother stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a soft smile, she said, "You've grown so much, Rick. Your parents would have been so proud of you... if not for what happened."
Rick's body tensed. "What do you mean?"
Tristan's mother hesitated, her eyes betraying a flicker of regret. "I knew them, Rick. Your parents... before everything."
Rick's heart raced. He opened his mouth to ask more, but the sound of a wine glass shattering in the distance cut through the air, interrupting the moment.