The auditorium lights blazed bright against the stage, their heat mixing with the nervous energy that filled the air. Rows of students sat stiffly, clutching pens and scrap paper, their eyes glued to the massive LED timer counting down from 30 seconds.
"Final round!" the host announced, his voice echoing. "Question number ten—worth five points."
Faye sat tall in her seat, her expression calm but her heartbeat sharp in her ears. Around her, the other competitors gripped their buzzers: Miguel from Manila Science High, known for his quick recall; Angela from Iloilo National, sharp with chemistry; and Arjun from Davao, a physics prodigy.
The host's voice cut through the silence.
"Question: A satellite is in low Earth orbit at an altitude of 300 km. Given Earth's radius is approximately 6,371 km and the gravitational constant is 6.67 × 10⁻¹¹ N·m²/kg², calculate the orbital period in minutes."
The room froze. Scribbles erupted on papers. Numbers and formulas flashed in Faye's mind—Newton's law of gravitation, centripetal force, orbital velocity. She wrote swiftly, her pen gliding across the page with precision.
Radius = 6,371 + 300 = 6,671 km. Convert to meters. Plug in values.
She calculated, focus narrowing until the world outside her notes faded.
"Time!" the host called.
Buzz.
Faye pressed first. "Approximately 90 minutes."
The host checked the screen. "Correct!"
Gasps and applause burst across the hall. Jason, watching from the student council row, smiled faintly at the calm brilliance of the girl who didn't even flinch.
Miguel slumped. Angela bit her lip. Arjun sighed, defeated.
"The champion of this year's National Science Olympiad is…" the host raised his card, stretching the suspense, "Samantha Faye Lopez!"
The audience erupted in cheers. Faye exhaled softly, her lips curving into the smallest of smiles—the kind only those watching closely would notice. She stood, her navy blazer crisp, her medal already gleaming.
Faye walked up the stage, her shoes clicking against polished wood. Cameras flashed as the host draped the gold medal around her neck. The metal felt cold and heavy, pressing lightly against her collarbone—a weight both literal and symbolic. For a moment, the crowd blurred into indistinct color and sound. The applause felt far away, fading into a dull hum.
Her mother's voice echoed faintly in her mind:
"Faye, you're capable of being the best. Never settle for less."
She exhaled again, a breath she didn't realize she was holding. This wasn't just victory—it was validation. Proof that she could meet her parents' expectations. She scanned the audience, searching for them—but they weren't there.' Another win, yet never enough'.
Click. Click. Click.
The photographers captured her calm, poised expression—an untouchable star, glowing yet distant.
As the crowd celebrated, the narrator's voice seemed to echo in the background:
Samantha Faye Lopez.
Straight-A student. Top of her grade. Science Club president. The girl who always won. Admired for her beauty, brilliance, and discipline. Using her mind and hard work, she kept climbing higher and higher.
But at the very top, success could be lonely—and the higher you climb, the heavier the pressure.
And though she didn't know it yet, her brightest competition—and perhaps her greatest change—was sitting just a few rows away, smiling like the sun.