The monsoon rains of late September 2020 came with a strange rhythm—soft drizzles in the morning and fierce downpours at night. For many, the stormy weather mirrored the chaos of the world outside. But for Carmela, who sat in her small yet neatly arranged workspace in their provincial home, the thunder was no longer a distraction. It was a reminder of everything she had weathered and everything she was building.
Now 20, Carmela lived full-time with her family in their hometown, though her heart and mind remained tethered to Los Baños where she was still enrolled in her IT degree remotely. Their house buzzed with activity. Her oldest brother, Kuya Alex, now taught high school students online from his room-turned-classroom, while her second brother, Kuya Vin, juggled the family sari-sari store and managed their growing e-commerce sideline. Their father tended to the garden, and their mother ruled the kitchen with warm meals that filled the house with comforting smells.
The once-quiet household was now a fortress of collaboration. Carmela's corner workspace, near the living room window, was expanded to accommodate dual monitors. It had become her war room, where she balanced school, freelancing, and her growing online platform, *Lihok*.
What had started as an idea was now a working prototype—thanks to Raziel. He had offered to design the platform interface, pouring his talent and dedication into the project without hesitation. Their late-night calls had turned into design sprints, brainstorming sessions, and, sometimes, quiet moments of shared silence and understanding.
"We're really doing this," Carmela whispered one night after they finalized the mobile version of *Lihok*. Her voice was tired, but hopeful.
"Oo," Raziel replied. "Hindi lang ito para sa 'yo. Para ito sa marami. (Yes. This isn't just for you. It's for many.)"
Carmela's investment instincts were sharp. In 2008, she had quietly invested in Bitcoin when it launched—a decision she made with the knowledge from her past life. She never touched those funds, knowing full well how valuable they'd become.
Now, in 2020, she tracked the surging values with a calm but calculating mind. Bitcoin was breaching \$11,000 again. She stared at her spreadsheet labeled "Crypto Holdings" and took a deep breath.
"It's time to make some decisions," she murmured.
She scheduled a video call with Kuya Paolo that evening.
"Kuya, I've been thinking," she said as she shared her screen showing graphs and trends. "Maybe we can pull out a portion of the crypto and diversify into dividend stocks and REITs. Hindi lahat, but maybe 10-15%."
Paolo blinked. "Akala ko maliit lang 'yung nilagay mo dati. (I thought you only put in a small amount back then.)"
"It was. But I got in really early. Trust me, there's enough to diversify." She smiled.
Paolo grinned. "Okay, ikaw bahala. Pero ang galing mo talaga. (Alright, it's up to you. But you're really amazing.)"
By the end of the week, they had begun the process. Some funds were redirected into a mutual fund tracking U.S. dividend aristocrats, and Paolo opened a joint investment account for the family. Even Alex chipped in, contributing savings from his teaching job.
Their parents were skeptical at first. "Anong ibig sabihin ng stocks na may kita kahit walang trabaho? (What do you mean stocks that earn even if you're not working?)" their mother asked.
Carmela explained with a warm smile, "Parang tanim, Ma. Pag alaga mo ng maayos, magbubunga siya buwan-buwan. (It's like planting, Ma. If you take care of it, it bears fruit monthly.)"
Her father nodded, eyes thoughtful.
In between meetings and lectures, Carmela kept building *Lihok*. The platform now had translators for multiple dialects and growing volunteers. Raziel was a constant in these developments. More than once, Carmela caught herself smiling while watching him troubleshoot bugs or sketch new UI ideas during their calls.
Their relationship had evolved from friendship to something quietly intimate.
One night, while sipping hot chocolate and watching a webinar replay, Carmela leaned on her laptop.
"Raziel... do you think we're rushing this?"
"Rushing what?" he asked gently.
"This. Us. I don't even know what to call it."
There was a pause, then his voice lowered.
"I'm not rushing anything, Mel. I'm just... walking beside you. You lead. I'll be here."
Her heart fluttered in a way she hadn't felt in years. Unlike the fiery, chaotic love she once chased, this was steady, patient, and grounding.
"Salamat. (Thank you.) I want you here."
October arrived with new milestones. Carmela reached out to mentors online and was surprised when they responded. A Filipina startup founder in Singapore offered coaching sessions. A developer in the U.S. added her to a closed group for education-tech freelancers.
She started waking up earlier. Mornings now included coffee and a small team huddle via Google Meet: Raziel, her niece (the social media assistant), two part-time writers, and a video editor. Each week brought new goals, feedback, and feature rollouts.
The highlight of the month came unexpectedly.
Raziel surprised her with a custom splash screen animation for *Lihok*. It showed a child planting a seed, which blossomed into a tree that formed into the platform's logo.
"Para sa 'yo. Para sa ating dalawa. (For you. For both of us.)," he said shyly.
Carmela watched it on repeat, touched beyond words.
Later that evening, she wrote in her journal:
*I don't know if I'm falling in love, but I know this feels safe. Maybe that's what love should be.*
Dinner that weekend was a full family affair. Tinola, warm rice, and laughter filled the house. Vin discussed expanding their business, Alex shared his students' funny mishaps, and their parents listened proudly.
Carmela felt it—the strength of their unity, the gift of a second chance.
As the rain fell gently that night, she stood by her window, thinking of her old life. The regrets, the missed opportunities, the losses.
Now, she had a plan, a family she could protect, and someone who walked beside her without conditions.
The world outside was still uncertain. But inside, she was building something certain.
Something beautiful.
And it was only just beginning.