Chapter 5 The New Bela

BELA POV

Bela Cruz no longer waited for life to happen.

She made it happen.

She woke up before sunrise every morning, brewed instant coffee in a chipped mug, and reviewed lecture notes before heading to class. Her schedule was packed-early classes, part-time shifts at the university library, and sometimes even tutoring younger students for extra income.

But not for herself.

She didn't need luxury anymore.

She needed stability.

She needed control.

And most of all, she needed to make sure her mother and sister never had to suffer again.

Because she had seen what loss could do.

How quickly everything could fall apart.

How fragile happiness really was.

And so, she built herself into something unshakable.

A quiet storm beneath calm waters.

A girl who had learned that survival wasn't about waiting for someone to save you-it was about learning how to stand on your own two feet, even when the world tried to knock you down.

---

Their new home wasn't much-a three-bedroom condominium unit in Quezon City with cracked tiles and thin walls that let every neighbor's argument seep through.

But it was theirs.

And it was enough.

It smelled like old wood polish and dried herbs from the small kitchen cabinet where her mother stored remedies passed down through generations. The furniture was mismatched, mostly secondhand finds from garage sales and thrift stores, but they made it work.

There were nights when the water pressure failed, and others when the lights flickered during thunderstorms. But those things didn't matter anymore.

What mattered was that they were together.

That they were safe.

That they were healing.

Her mother worked long hours as a seamstress, taking in alterations from old clients who still remembered her name. Marianne, after months of silence and withdrawal, slowly returned to the world-working part-time at a bookstore and seeing a therapist regularly.

They were broken, yes.

But they were healing.

And Bela?

She became the glue.

The one who cooked dinner when her mother came home too tired to stand.

The one who reminded Marianne to eat.

The one who kept their heads above water.

She stopped dreaming of fairy tales.

Stopped waiting for someone to save her.

Because she learned something important:

"No one would fight for her if she didn't fight for herself first."

---

After the accident, Bela had to grow up fast.

She graduated high school early, skipping senior prom and turning down party invites to help her mother pay the bills.

When she asked if she could get a part-time job, both her mother and Marianne refused.

"No," her mother said firmly one night over a simple meal of fried rice and canned tuna. "You study. That's your job now."

"But I can help-"

"We know," Marianne interrupted gently. "That's why we won't let you do this."

Bela frowned. "I'm not weak."

"I know," her mother replied softly, reaching across the table to touch her hand. "But you deserve to have a teenage life. Even if it's late."

So she focused on school.

She studied hard.

Pushed herself harder than anyone else.

And somehow, against all odds, she earned a scholarship to study BS Office Administration at the University of the Philippines – Diliman.

A full ride.

Tuition-free.

It was the first time in years that she cried out of joy.

Not sadness.

Not fear.

Joy.

The letter arrived in a white envelope, sealed with the UP logo. She opened it alone in her room, hands trembling, heart hammering.

She read the words twice before allowing herself to believe it.

Yes.

This was real.

She had done it.

She had fought for herself-and won.

---

College changed her.

She wasn't the same quiet girl who hid behind curtains and sweaters.

She was sharper now.

More confident.

Still reserved, yes-but not because she was afraid.

Because she chose to be.

She joined student organizations-not for popularity, but for experience. She volunteered at community centers, helped organize charity events, and interned at small offices where she learned everything from filing systems to executive communication.

She wasn't flashy.

Didn't wear makeup.

Didn't go out often.

She wore thick round glasses, oversized shirts, and always had pants on-even in summer.

Some classmates called her prude.

Others called her boring.

But they respected her.

Because she got things done.

Because she showed up.

Because she mattered.

Professors noticed her. Classmates sought her advice. Employers wrote glowing recommendations.

She didn't seek validation.

But she found it anyway.

In the way people looked at her.

In the way they listened when she spoke.

In the way she stood taller with each passing year.

She wasn't just surviving anymore.

She was thriving.

---

Five years passed like pages in a book flipped too quickly.

The next, she was walking across a stage in a black gown, diploma in hand.

Bachelor's degree.

Magna Cum Laude.

Her mother cried.

Marianne hugged her so tight it hurt.

She smiled.

Truly smiled.

For the first time in years.

Later that evening, she sat alone on a bench near the campus garden, staring up at the sky. The sun was setting, casting golden light over the trees. Students laughed and took photos around her, but she just watched quietly.

She thought about everything.

About the little girl who used to hide behind couches.

About the teenager who once loved someone she couldn't have.

About the woman she had become.

She touched her fingers to her chest.

Yes.

This was her life now.

Hers.

No one else's.

---

That night, Marianne surprised her with a cake.

"Well, not a real party," her sister admitted sheepishly, holding up a store-bought chocolate cake and two mismatched candles. "But I figured... we should celebrate somehow."

Bela laughed. "This is perfect."

They ate in the kitchen, talking about old memories and future plans.

"I still think you should've let us throw you a real party," Marianne said, wiping frosting off her lips.

Bela shook her head. "We don't need to spend money like that."

"You're too responsible," Marianne teased.

"Someone has to be."

There was a pause.

Then Marianne leaned forward. "You know... you've changed a lot."

Bela looked at her.

"In a good way," Marianne added quickly. "You're stronger. More grounded. I don't even recognize the girl you used to be."

Bela smiled softly. "Maybe she grew up."

---

Later that week, her best friend, Rica, sent her a message.

||"GRADUATION NIGHT CLUB PARTY!! Everyone's going. You HAVE to come!"||

Attached was a photo of a flyer advertising a rented club space, neon lights flashing, loud music promised.

Bela stared at the screen.

She hadn't been to a club in years.

Hadn't danced in just as long.

Hadn't even worn heels since high school.

She typed a reply:

"I don't know... maybe not. I'm more of a home celebration person."

Rica responded instantly:

"Come on, Bela! It's your graduation! Let loose for once! We'll take care of everything. Just show up looking cute."

Bela rolled her eyes.

Cute?

She wasn't cute.

She was practical.

Efficient.

Responsible.

But...

Maybe tonight, she could be something else.

Just for a little while.

---

She dug through her closet, pulling out clothes she hadn't worn in years.

A simple black dress.

Flat heels.

Minimal makeup.

She put on her round glasses, then hesitated.

Took them off.

Put on contact lenses instead.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

Different.

Not unrecognizable.

Just... softer.

She stepped back.

Took a deep breath.

Then another.

Tonight wasn't about proving anything.

It was about celebrating.

Herself.

Her journey.

Her survival.

And maybe, just maybe...

Letting herself feel alive again.

She grabbed her clutch.

Slung her jacket over her shoulder.

And walked out the door.

The city lights greeted her like an old friend.

And for the first time in years...

She felt free.

---

♣️ END OF CHAPTER 3

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