I'll never understand how people can speak so carelessly—like their words carry no weight. But the truth is, they do. Sometimes, all it takes is one cruel sentence to destroy the self-worth someone spent years trying to build.
What's worse? Most of those thoughtless words come from people who hide behind religion.
That night, I was sitting in the living room. Mom was sipping her usual evening coffee beside my sister Heaven, while Dad was off at church doing another pastor's meeting. The silence was broken when my mother suddenly scoffed.
"There she goes again—Gorgeria's daughter. Pretending to be depressed. Acting like she's gonna end it all… but never actually doing it."
My pen froze in my hand.
"She just wants attention," Heaven said, laughing like it was some kind of joke.
I stared at them, brows slightly furrowed, heart slowly sinking.
"They've got a perfect home, and yet she still acts like a victim. Poor Gorgeria's worried sick—talking about getting her therapy now!" Mom added.
I set my pen down and straightened in my seat. Here we go again—talking about people like they paid our bills. Like their suffering was entertainment.
Did they not see the miracle in the fact that Agnes was still alive?
"It's not acting, Mom," I said softly. "Depression is an illness. It's not something you imagine."
They throw around prayers like magic spells, then turn around and rip people apart with their mouths.
"I'm not going," I added when she asked if I'd join them for church.
Mom rolled her eyes. "That's why you're growing up disrespectful, Sera. You haven't stepped inside a church in months."
"I need to study," I lied. I just didn't want to sit beside them and pretend like we weren't broken.
"She's just making excuses again," Heaven muttered, grinning.
I tuned them out like I always did. My sister kept whispering into Mom's ear like a snake feeding poison, and they kept laughing, as if their judgment came wrapped in divine approval.
They go to church every Sunday, kneel in prayer like saints—but behind closed doors, their tongues are sharper than blades. And somehow, they think that makes them holy?
What's the point of going to church if you forget how to be human the moment you leave?
This is why I hide in my room whenever they start tearing people down, or worse—start tearing me down. I'm the family's disgrace, the outlier. Even with my spotless grades, none of that mattered because I don't pray loud enough or show up to church dressed in white. In their eyes, goodness is measured by how many verses you can quote, not by how kind you are.
I closed my eyes, wishing this place didn't feel like a cage.
"She's like that because too many people keep validating her emotions," Heaven said with a sigh.
Her words stabbed deep.
"You do know mental illness isn't weakness, right? The brain is an organ too. Depression is a sickness, not a trend," I said.
"Back in our day, we didn't have any of that," Mom interrupted, standing to get her mug.
Heaven looked at me like I was some pitiful thing. "Social media ruined this generation. Now everyone thinks their feelings are facts."
Mom nodded. "She just needs to pray."
I dropped my eyes to my notebook and started writing again. There was no winning against people who thought their ignorance was sacred. No use wasting breath on those who refused to listen. Funny how they forgot I was studying to break the very stigma they worshipped.
When will people finally understand that lacking faith isn't what causes mental illness—and prayer alone isn't always the cure?
I stood, ready to go upstairs and lock myself away again, when Mom called out, "Prayer meeting tonight. You're coming, right?"
"Guys! You have to read Drev's tweet!" Angel barged into the room like a gust of wind, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes wide with excitement.
Without waiting for a response, she plopped into the seat right in front of me, dragging Trisha along like they were on a mission to gossip and stir chaos.
She held out her phone dramatically.
@drevanthoskvm
my crush in CAS is seriously gorgeous
CAS. College of Arts and Sciences.
Trisha's voice went up a few octaves. "Omg! He actually confirmed it! His crush is from our department?!"
Angel rolled her eyes but grinned. "We've known! Last semester he was practically a ghost haunting our hallways. I just didn't expect him to admit it. Took him forever."
I couldn't help but agree silently. We were now in our second year, and yeah—last semester, Drev was always lingering in our building. Rumor had it he was into someone, but he never made it official with anyone.
"I bet it's Gwen," I said, joining their speculation. "You know, the girl from broadcasting? He's always around her."
Angel scrunched up her face in mock concentration, then shook her head. "Nah. Gwen's basically in love with him, but if it were her, they'd be together by now."
I leaned back in my chair, letting their chatter wash over me. It was only the first week of the semester, and since we were now in full white uniforms, we all looked like some elite mental health army.
"I swear, he's into someone from psych," Trisha smirked.
"Right? I feel like it's one of us," Angel added. "He was always lurking around our classroom."
I smiled. "Who knows? Maybe it's you, Angel."
She gave me a playful pinch, laughing as I pretended to flinch. Their giggles filled the air until our instructor walked in, and the whole room straightened up.
Sir Gabriel.
Still our professor for one of the core psych subjects, and still every bit the legend. A licensed psychologist with a PhD and a sharp tongue. I admired him more than I'd ever admit out loud.
"Good morning, class."
We answered in unison, voices half-awake. Angel and Trisha scooted closer to me, whispering as the lesson began.
"I'm telling you, Drev's acting weird. He usually starts flirting after two weeks max."
"Maybe he's shy this time," Angel teased, giggling."Or maybe it's true love. Joke."
Sir Gabriel cleared his throat loudly, and everyone snapped to attention. We jumped straight into a surprise graded recitation—which left Angel and Trisha sulking since neither of them read last night.
Later, we decided to skip the packed canteen and eat lunch on the field, each of us opening our homemade meals beneath the open sky. It was too crowded inside, anyway.
"We have to pair up for research this semester, right? You're my partner, Sera," Angel announced while unwrapping her lunch.
Trisha pouted dramatically, arms crossed. "Why do you get to partner with Sera?!"
I burst into laughter.
"Because we're closer," Angel said smugly.
Trisha raised a brow and looked my way. "Fine then, Sera, who do you want as your partner?"
I gave them a wicked smile while pulling out my container. For our experimental psychology course, we had to conduct actual research this semester—and it had to be done in pairs.
"Why don't you two just partner up?" I teased.
They both groaned in protest.
"She and I won't get anything done," Angel said, pointing at Trisha. "She's the distraction of the year!"
"Well, at least I'm award-winning," Trisha shot back.
I laughed until my stomach ached. As I quietly continued eating, my eyes drifted to the green soccer field behind them, stretching wide beneath the cloudless sky.
I breathed in deeply.
School felt more like home than my actual house. These girls, this routine, this chaotic peace—it meant more to me than anything my bloodline could offer. People always said blood was thicker than water, but in my case, water ran deeper.
"Hey, is it true that our P.E. class this semester is in the engineering department?" Trisha asked suddenly.
That snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Who said that?" I asked.
"It's the buzz going around," she said with a grin that told me she kind of hoped it was true.
Angel slammed her tumbler on the bench and gave us a grin like she'd just won the lottery. "It's true! They haven't officially announced it yet, but our new P.E. coach is from the engineering department."
I squinted at her, my lips tugging into a mild pout. "That's, like, a ten-minute walk from our building. Why would anyone be happy about that?"
"You're such a vibe-killer, Sera," Trisha said, narrowing her eyes at me like I'd personally insulted her ancestors. "Why do you never get excited about anything?"
I blinked. "Because you two hate walking. And now you're thrilled about walking farther?"
Trisha huffed and crossed her arms. "Girl, there are cute guys in engineering. Keep up."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, and you won't even get to flirt with them because you'll be sweating buckets by the time we get there."
"Sera, you've changed," Angel said, dramatically clutching her chest like I'd just committed a crime against fun.
I burst into laughter. Trisha's offended expression was almost Oscar-worthy.
Time flew fast and soon we were walking back to the building, faces melting under the sun and zero umbrella protection. I shaded my face with my hand as I trailed behind them like a defeated little sister. They were both taller than me, so I stayed in their shadows like a vampire avoiding the light.
As expected, their conversation swerved back to boys.
"Check the replies to Drev's tweet," Trisha whispered to Angel.
"Later when we get inside. Can't you wait five minutes?"
Trisha smacked her gently on the arm and I had to bite back a laugh. Classic.
When we reached the shaded pathway, I finally dropped my hand and ran my fingers through my sweaty bangs. The girls paused too, fluffing their hair like they were about to step on a runway instead of head to a psych class.
"Let's go," I said. "We've only got ten minutes left."
But instead of walking, they started elbowing each other and nudging their chins toward something behind me. I turned slowly, frowning, already suspicious.
That's when I saw them—Tristan and Janiel, standing at one of the stalls, swarmed by students. Still, the two of them stood out like giants in the crowd, all height and effortless presence.
I turned back around. "Why are you guys acting like this? You don't even like those two."
"We're waiting," Angel replied with a sly smile. "What if Drev's with them?"
I rolled my eyes so hard they almost stayed there. I stormed off. If they wanted to risk being late, that was on them. Our next prof doesn't tolerate latecomers, and they knew that.
I walked ahead, the wind finally catching my hair and drying some of the sweat off my neck. I swept it all to one side, letting it fall neatly over my shoulder.
And then I stopped. Right at the foot of the stairs to the second floor—where our classroom was—stood someone leaning against the wall.
Even from a distance, I knew who it was.
Drev.
One foot resting against the wall, head tilted downward, holding a Starbucks cup with both hands. His polo was slightly wrinkled, but he casually straightened it as if he could feel eyes on him.
I swallowed hard and looked away instantly. Nope. Not happening. I wasn't walking past him alone. Not when my heart pulled this stupid little stunt every time he was within twenty feet.
I waited for Angel and Trisha to catch up, who arrived looking visibly defeated. But that didn't stop the way their eyes lit up when they saw Drev standing there. It was like someone had just turned on their internal glitter machines.
"Do I look sweaty?" Trisha whispered.
"You're fine. What about me?" Angel asked while doing a half-second hair fix.
I stood awkwardly beside them, brushing invisible dust off my skirt, trying not to fidget. Ever since I caught Drev staring at me last semester, I couldn't stop noticing him. And worse—how often he noticed me too.
They started walking again, and I followed a few steps behind. We were now right at the stairs, just a few feet from him. I could feel the tension radiating from my friends even though they were trying so hard to act cool.
Drev shifted. He stood a little straighter, adjusting the grip on his drink like it might explode if he didn't hold it right. His eyes were still on the ground, but I could see his jaw tighten slightly.
I kept my eyes forward. No glances. No turning. No heart palpitations, thank you.
But then again... why did my chest feel so loud?
I had the perfect view of him—not because I was brave, but because I was safely hidden behind my two classmates. It felt illegal to stare, but invisible as I was, I allowed myself a moment.
As we finally passed where he stood, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
But peace? It lasted exactly three seconds.
"Excuse me…"
We all froze mid-step, just one stair away from escaping. That voice—it was deep, smooth, and far too familiar. And worse? It was directed at me.
Trisha turned slightly, her voice almost trembling as she whispered, "Y-Yes?"
I wanted to laugh at her sudden politeness, but I couldn't. Not when he was looking straight at me, and definitely not when my face felt like it was about to combust.
Then, without a word, he extended the drink in his hand toward me. A cup. From Starbucks. My pulse instantly kicked up a notch.
Infront of me, I heard the sharp gasp of two very nosy best friends, followed by Angel's not-so-subtle pinch to my arm. I couldn't even glare at her—I was too busy trying not to look like I was short-circuiting.
He hesitated, then gave me a half-smile, the kind that could turn rational girls into fools. "Could you…" His voice trailed off, his eyes dropping to the drink as if it held the rest of his sentence.
I blinked, panic rising like floodwater. "I—I don't drink coffee," I blurted.
Why did I say that?! We weren't even talking! Why was he handing me a drink?!
Trisha pinched me so hard I nearly yelped. I shot her a look, but she just raised her eyebrows like do not screw this up.
His ears turned pink. "It's… a frappe," he said, voice softer now, almost bashful.
I cleared my throat, trying to reclaim at least one ounce of dignity. "Why are you giving it to me?"
My heart was rattling in my chest. This was the first time we'd ever spoken. And honestly? I could go my whole college life never repeating this moment, thank you very much.
He scratched the back of his neck, shifting on his feet. "Isn't… Professor Gabriel your instructor?"
I blinked at him, confused. "Uh. Yeah?"
Then he smiled—boyish, sheepish, and infuriatingly charming. "Can you give this to him? I promised I'd drop it off but I've got class across campus."
Oh.
OH.
So, I wasn't special.
I was just… the delivery girl.