---
The Monday sun rose over Taguig City, spilling its light across highways and side streets. Already, the air was thick with the familiar rhythm of the metropolis-commuters pressed into jeepneys, engines growling in half-step, vendors weaving between cars with bottled water, bread rolls, and packs of tissue in hand. Traffic was as inevitable as sunrise, and everyone moved with the resigned patience of routine.
Inside one of the yellow school buses inching forward, the atmosphere was livelier. Conversations overlapped, wrappers crinkled, and a few students had already given in to their boredom, opening snacks long before recess. Amid the chatter, Lyssia Mialila Passionata sat quietly in her white uniform, scrolling through her phone.
The sun caught her profile, warm light tracing the curve of her face, and more than a few eyes drifted her way. She was used to it. In her own rhythm, she carried herself with a natural poise that didn't need to demand attention-it simply drew it.
She turned her gaze to the window, watching the buildings pass in slow, uneven frames. Her mind wandered, searching for something-anything-that might ground her restless thoughts.
"Lyssia! Did you already finish your research capsule?"
The voice broke her reverie. She slipped her phone into her pocket, stood slightly to turn, and found Jay looking up at her. Sixteen, hair a little unruly, his gray polo with the Saint Therese crest half-wrinkled from his slouched posture.
"Hm? Yes, I already did," she said with a smile. "Actually, I made a few more last night. I want to ask Sir Sakamoto which version works best. How about you, Jay?"
Jay groaned, letting his bag slide halfway down his shoulder. "Barely. I stayed up, but the data kept confusing me. I'll just pray Sir Sakamoto doesn't grill me too hard."
Lyssia laughed softly. "That's your fault, not the assignment's."
He grinned, unbothered by her teasing. Around them, the bus's small ecosystem went on-two boys in the back singing out of tune, a group of girls whispering while sneaking glances at Lyssia, the conductor snapping at someone for blocking the aisle.
An hour slipped away in this rhythm of stops and starts, until finally the bus rolled past the gates of Saint Therese Academy.
The campus spread open with its manicured lawns, gleaming chapel dome, and broad courtyard already filling with students. Uniforms pressed neat, voices rising in a hundred threads of chatter, the morning energy felt like its own tide.
Lyssia stepped down from the bus, adjusting her skirt as the breeze caught her hair. Jay trailed beside her, fiddling with his ID lanyard.
"Bet you the ceremony drags longer than usual," he muttered.
"They always do," Lyssia replied, calm as ever.
Students filed into lines for the weekly flag ceremony. Whispers wove through the crowd in quick bursts:
"Did you see Kathryn's post yesterday? She dyed her hair again, but sprayed it black for school."
"Luke's late-again. Watch him run in halfway."
"Sony Boy actually confessed last Friday, I swear."
The noise faded as the flag was brought forward, fabric unfolding against the bright sky. The anthem rose in practiced unison, followed by the pledge and the prayer.
Two small interruptions broke the solemnity. First, a gust tangled the flag with its rope, forcing a teacher to intervene while muffled laughter spread through the students. Then, a boy in another section fainted mid-line, collapsing onto the concrete. Teachers hurried to help, whispers rippling across the courtyard.
By the time order returned and dismissal was given, the ceremony had stretched far longer than expected-just as Jay predicted.
He yawned, hands in his pockets. "See? Mondays always drag."
Lyssia shook her head with a faint smile as the crowd dispersed. Together, they crossed the courtyard toward the STEM wing.
The third floor bustled with voices and footsteps. Their classroom-STEM-Platinum-was already alive with familiar figures. Kathryn leaned on the doorway, thumb flying across her phone. Luke jogged past, still fixing his unbuttoned polo. Sony Boy spoke loudly to Acosta, who pretended not to care. Near the windows, Moriel, Morgan, and Bembang were already cracking jokes. Bella sat quietly at her desk, notes spread neatly before her.
When Lyssia entered, heads turned. She was one of the grade's recognized beauties, admired yet somewhat distant, her presence commanding without effort. She slipped into her seat with ease, Jay taking the one just behind her.
The bell hadn't rung yet. The teacher hadn't arrived. STEM-Platinum was in its usual state before classes-half noise, half waiting, the energy of a long day just beginning to rise.
---
The bell rang, crisp and commanding, pulling the last echoes of chatter into silence. STEM-Platinum shuffled into order-bags tucked under desks, notebooks pulled out, eyes turning toward the front.
The classroom door opened with a smooth click. Kouji Sakamoto entered, the familiar cadence of his steps as steady as his presence. Dressed in his usual neat attire-white long-sleeved polo, black slacks, tie set with precise care-he exuded the air of a man who left little to chance. His rectangular glasses reflected the fluorescents as he scanned the room, pausing briefly on a few students who hadn't quite straightened up yet.
"Good morning, class." His voice was calm, deep but not heavy.
"Good morning, Sir KJ," the class answered in unison, some louder than others.
He set his leather folder on the desk and uncapped a pen, jotting a brief note before looking up. "Today, we would usually continue with Practical Research 3, but however..." His words slowed just slightly, enough for the class to sense a weight beneath them. "There is something important I must inform you of that might upset most of you here, especially the top students." Kouji took a quick glance before averting his gaze.
A ripple of unease moved across the room. Luke leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. Kathryn lowered her phone to her lap while still scrolling through her social media feed. Sony Boy whispered something to Acosta, who only shrugged, while Bella instinctively sat straighter, hands clasped over her notebook.
Lyssia, who had been aligning her papers neatly, stilled. She caught Jay's glance from behind her but neither of them spoke.
Sakamoto adjusted his glasses with a small motion, then folded his hands atop the desk. For a long breath, he simply looked at them-the kind of silence that tightened throats and raised questions before words were even spoken.
"You are all aware that this semester is critical," he began slowly, "and that your progress in this subject contributes heavily to your preparation for higher studies. You have shown... varying levels of effort, but overall, this class has maintained a commendable standard." he voiced it with professionalism and commending tone but with a hint of deliberation.
Some students relaxed, assuming a compliment was incoming. Bembang even gave a small grin, nudging Moriel at his side.
But Sakamoto's tone did not soften. If anything, it grew more deliberate.
"It is because of that standard, and because of circumstances beyond this classroom, that a decision has been made by the administration."
A low murmur began, cut short when he raised a hand. His composure was unshaken, though his eyes behind the glasses were unreadable.
Lyssia felt a knot coil in her stomach. Jay shifted in his chair, his foot tapping lightly against the floor. Around them, the air seemed to hold its breath.
And then-
The door to the classroom rattled open again. A student from another section hurried inside, carrying a stack of envelopes meant for the teachers. The interruption broke the tension like a pin to glass, drawing a wave of whispers as Sakamoto quietly signed the delivery slip and dismissed the messenger.
The silence that followed was heavier than before, as though every student was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The interruption ended as quickly as it came, and when the door clicked shut again, unease thickened the room. Students shifted in their seats, pens tapping, whispers fluttering.
Sakamoto set the signed envelope aside, then folded his hands neatly over the desk. His voice, when it came, was steady.
"As of today, Saint Therese Academy will be closing... for the foreseeable future."
For a breath, silence reigned. Then the uproar burst.
"What?!"
"Sir naman, that can't be right!"
"Closing us? For how long?!"
Desks rattled as students half-rose, questions crashing against each other.
Lyssia sat frozen, her pulse quickening. Closing? Just like that? No notice, no preparation? What about our progress, our hard work, our future?
Jay's voice cut across the noise. "Sir, what about our grades? What about college?"
Sakamoto raised a hand. "Please, sit down, class. I will explain, calma lang."
But the wave of frustration surged. Kathryn muttered curses under her breath and frustratingly turn off her phone and put it in her bag. Luke leaned forward, jaw tight. Even the usually quiet ones murmured their worry. The air was thick with disbelief.
Lyssia's fingers tightened around her pen. She forced herself to stand, her voice calm but sharper than the rest.
"Sir."
The single word pressed through the chaos. Some heads turned; the noise softened just enough. Lyssia's eyes locked on their teacher, steady despite the coil of anger tightening inside her.
"I have worked for this—no we worked for this!" she said, her voice clear. "Not just this semester-years of preparation. I am a candidate for high honors. Maybe the highest. If the school closes, all of that effort is wasted. All of us, students will lose something. Why now? Why without warning? Ang unfair naman po ng decision na yan."
Her words didn't rise in volume, but they carried a weight the scattered complaints lacked. It was not just panic-it was conviction.
Sakamoto held her gaze for a moment, unreadable behind his glasses. Then he answered, voice even as ever:
"I understand your frustration, Lyssia. I understand all of you. But decisions from above are not made lightly and...it has a deep reason for this to be made, we wish that you must trust that this is necessary." his voice holds no sympathy as his words sting her heart.
'Trust'. The word tasted bitter on her tongue. She sat back down resigned, pulse thrumming in her ears, while around her the storm of voices refused to fully die.
The noise ebbed and swelled until Sakamoto finally faked a cough to break the tension. His calm presence alone began to reel the voices back. He clasped his hands behind his back, letting the silence linger long enough for the last mutters to die.
"I know this is sudden," he said. "But I ask you to listen to the whole announcement before judging."
The room tensed again. Pens stilled. Chairs creaked as everyone leaned forward.
"Saint Therese Academy higher-ups has decided: all of your current grades will be comprehended into full marks for the semester. In addition, every enrolled students in this school will receive double refunds for tuition fees, along with financial rewards."
Gasps followed. Confusion shifted into disbelief, then into visible relief. Kathryn clutched her chest, exhaling loudly. Luke muttered, "No way..." while Jay blinked as though the words needed time to sink in. Even the most skeptical faces softened; frustration gave way to wide eyes and hesitant smiles.
The classroom quieted, but not from despair this time-rather, from stunned relief.
Lyssia sat unmoving. Her classmates' softened expressions pressed against her like a wall. A part of her wanted to share their relief-tuition refunded, no marks lost, financial reward gained. But another part resisted.
Perfect scores mean nothing if there's no learning. What good are medals if the work behind them is hollow?
Her chest tightened. She had stayed awake countless nights perfecting her research, rewriting until her vision blurred, chasing excellence not for the medal, but for mastery. And now... it was being handed to her like charity.
Jay, noticed her heavy mood but did nothing but silence.
The silence in the room became heavy in another way. Most of the students exchanged uncertain glances, still processing. But no one dared raise their voice again.
KJ scanned the faces before him. "I know this may not be the outcome you expected. But it is the path decided for now. Focus on what lies ahead, do a self study and prepare for a worst turning point of your life. For today class is dismissed early and have a safe trip home."
Chairs scraped against the floor as the students began to pack. Relief and Suspicion floated in the air like a mixed smoke, but Lyssia moved with mechanical precision, sliding her notebook into her bag without a word.
Jay caught her eye briefly, as though searching for her reaction, but she gave none. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she rose, her mind far louder than the hushed shuffling around her.
Something about this doesn't make sense. Why end it so abruptly? What's those last lines all about?
She felt that Sakamoto's words seems like a warning, rather than a farewell.
As the door opened and the students spilled out, the November air met them, cool but strangely heavy.
And for Lyssia, the unease lingered, sharp as glass beneath the quiet.
---
The courtyard was awash with restless voices. Students streamed out of the classrooms in uneven clusters, their murmurs carrying the weight of confusion and doubt. The sudden closure of the academy was not only unexpected but unsettling, and the uneasiness with suspicion showed in every conversation that lingered in the air.
Beside Lyssia, Jay adjusted the strap of her bag over his shoulder, a quiet habit of his whenever he accompanied her. His free hand busied itself with his phone, scrolling through news feeds and online forums in search of a reason-any reason-for why Saint Therese Academy would shut its gates so abruptly.
A few steps ahead, Kathryn played her role as the class Public Information Officer with practiced precision. She moved from group to group, updating absent classmates through quick messages, and ensuring their president and vice president-both missing that day-were informed of the announcement. Her voice was calm, but her furrowed brow betrayed the same unease that gripped everyone else.
Lyssia kept her silence, though her thoughts churned. The decision felt too deliberate, too sudden to be dismissed as mere "administrative issues." Her sharp gaze lingered on the gate as the students were herded into neat lines to await their buses. A quiet determination stirred within her: she needed to understand the cause, no matter how well it was hidden.
After what felt like a long procession of waiting, their own bus rumbled into view. The line moved forward slowly, and they boarded in order, one by one, as though following a ritual they had never rehearsed yet instinctively knew.
Inside, the late morning light streamed mercilessly through the windows. A few students pulled down the faded folds, dimming the cabin and leaving the blue interior lights to cast a cool glow over the rows of seats. The effect was almost otherworldly-unnatural silence filled the space, broken only by the creak of the bus shifting under their weight.
They all knew what that silence meant. For many, this ride would be the last time they would sit together. Most of them came from distant cities, far-flung barangays, and neighboring regions. After today, they would scatter. Some might cross paths again, but not like this-not every morning, not every week.
Jay leaned against Lyssia's shoulder, still thumbing through his phone but slower now, his mind caught between search results and resignation. She reached up absentmindedly and stroked his hair, her fingers weaving through the strands with a gentleness that belied the turmoil she carried inside. Her eyes stayed fixed on the window, but her thoughts stretched far beyond the glass.
In the backseats, faint discussions buzzed between small groups. Some students were openly upset, their voices rising and falling with frustration. A few others-those who had never cared much for grades or lectures-hid smiles they dared not show. Relief glimmered in them, but the atmosphere was too heavy to betray it.
The minutes passed in solemn waves, marked by the gradual thinning of voices. At each stop, a student stood, gathered their things, and stepped off the bus into their own little corner of the city. One by one, the seats emptied, until what had once been a bustling ride became a slow unraveling of companionship. Each departure deepened the quiet, until the silence itself grew unbearable.
By the time Lyssia realized she was the last passenger, the bus felt like a hollow vessel echoing with ghosts of laughter and chatter. She reached up and tugged the fold of her window open again, letting the noon sunlight stream in. It was warm, almost blinding, yet it only sharpened the loneliness pressing against her chest.
And as the bus rolled on, carrying her farther from the academy and deeper into the weight of her own thoughts, Lyssia braced herself for the silence of home.
---
-Fin