The first day of high school felt like the air itself had shifted. The halls were brighter, the uniforms stiffer, and the crowd a mix of strangers who hadn’t memorized her name.
Stella liked that.
Here, no one called her “the smart girl with the attitude.” No one whispered about her family or rolled their eyes when she answered a question too confidently. Her voice felt lighter now—still cautious, but no longer buried.
She had cut her hair short over the break. A quiet rebellion. Her mother had frowned, but Stella didn’t care.
"Sayang naman, I like your hair longer pa naman!" her mom had said.
"I’m good with this, Ma," she had replied, shrugging it off.
It was easier to manage. Easier to leave the past behind when you didn’t look like it anymore.
“Section 1 ka rin, ‘di ba?” a girl with round glasses and a kind smile asked as they scanned the class lists outside the bulletin board. She has a ponytail that swayed when she walked, and a voice that reminded Stella of warm tea. “I’m Amie.”
“Stella,” she answered.
“Cool name,” Amie grinned. “You look like someone who reads Murakami.”
Stella blinked, caught off guard. Then, a small smile. “Only once. Norwegian Wood.”
“Ah,” Amie nodded, mock-sagely. “Eh ‘di ikaw na! Pang-introvert ‘yun ah.”
For once, it felt easy.
They fell into step together without needing to say much more.
Their classroom was on the second floor, the one with large windows facing the courtyard. Desks in neat rows, chairs still squeaking with newness. Stella picked the second row from the back, beside the window, and was quietly pleased when Amie slid into the seat beside her without asking.
The rest of the morning passed in the rhythm of new beginnings—introductions, schedules, icebreaker games that felt less awkward than usual. By lunch, Stella already knew which restroom didn’t have a line, which teacher smiled when you said good morning, and which stairwell gave you the best view of the sky.
She found a corner in the library by Thursday. Quiet. Tucked behind shelves of forgotten poetry. She brought her earphones, but rarely used them. It was enough to be there, surrounded by words that didn’t expect her to explain herself.
Amie introduced her to two other girls—Riva and Lei—both quirky in different ways. They added her to their group chat by the weekend, and although Stella didn’t say much at first, she didn’t feel excluded. There were no backhanded comments. No one kept score of who replied fastest. It was safe.
She liked safe.
But safety has a way of being temporary.
It was during PE, the following Monday, that it happened.
She was on her way back from the locker room, earbuds in, tied hoodie slung over her shoulder. The path curved behind the gym and looped past the edge of the field before connecting to the main building.
That’s when she saw him.
Vince.
He was leaning against the bleachers, laughing at something a varsity player said. His sleeves were rolled up, and the lazy way his hair curled over his forehead hadn’t changed. But he was taller now. His voice deeper. His smile… still devastating.
Stella froze—not dramatically, just for a heartbeat. Her brain scrambled to catch up with her eyes. What was he doing here?
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
She’d left that part of her life behind. Clean slate. New school. That was the plan.
But Vince had transferred back in late last year, after his parents moved again. She didn’t know. No one told her. And maybe that was the universe’s way of teaching her: no matter how far you run, some threads find their way back.
She swallowed and kept walking.
She didn’t look back.
But Vince saw her.
Of course he did.
He’d noticed her the moment she walked through the gates that first morning. The tilt of her head, the set of her shoulders, the way her hair caught the sun—it was different, but still her.
He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.
Because what would he say?
“Hey, sorry for… existing in your life and then vanishing?”
He had watched her from across the quad. Saw how she smiled when someone made a joke. How she paused at the library door, like testing if it was still a safe place.
He didn’t approach.
He couldn’t.
Stella looked… better. Lighter. Like the weight she used to carry had been folded away, at least partially.
And Vince?
Vince had no idea if his presence would bring it all crashing back.
So he did what he thought was best.
He left her alone.
Except, he didn’t really.
He caught glimpses. In the cafeteria line. During flag ceremony. Once, in the art room when he passed by and saw her sketching in the corner. Always quiet. Always focused. Still Stella.
He remembered the girl who once punched a boy for mocking her answer in class. The girl who stayed behind after the school play to put chairs back in place. The girl who used to walk home alone, humming under her breath.
He remembered his Stella.
But maybe she wasn’t his anymore.
Maybe she never really was.
In a group huddle before practice, one of his teammates nudged him. “Yo, you seeing that girl from Section 1? She’s Stella right? She’s cute.”
Vince didn’t look. He didn’t have to.
He already knew.
“She’s out of your league,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
He told himself it was better this way. Let her have her peace. Let her laugh without wondering if someone would use it against her.
But the thing about old stories is… sometimes, they ask to be finished.
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