Chapter 3- Pretty Faith

Chapter 3

Faith’s POV

“Good day, fellows. Since I have some good news for you, let’s share this simple meal in front of you,” Sir Jaecob cheerfully announced, wearing a smile that seemed to hide a mix of excitement and joy. In that simple offering, you could feel the sincerity—it wasn’t just food, it was gratitude.

“Wow! Look at that, Sir brought food!” Charls teased with a raised eyebrow and a playful tone. His real name is Carlo, but he prefers ‘Charls’—says it sounds more fabulous. He’s one of the people I lean on here. Like Charie, he’s bubbly, unfiltered, but genuine. Charls is gay, but not into girly things.

“Yes, let’s eat first before I share the good news. Come on, take your seats.” There was a special energy in Sir’s voice, like a child guarding a surprise.

“Jomer, sit here beside me. Here’s your plate—I already put rice and your favorite adobo on it,” Nicole said sweetly, though with a hint of drama. I could feel the sting of jealousy in her words. The kind where you want to say thank you, but you’d rather scream. As if I even wanted to sit next to Jomer. She can have him.

Charie, Charls, and I sat on one side of the table. I ended up at the far end. And of course, right across from me—Jomer. But the worst part? The only empty seat left was beside me. So here came Sir Jaecob, slowly sitting next to me while Charie kept nudging me, giggling. My face burned with embarrassment—I wanted to evaporate like water under the sun.

I noticed Jomer glancing between me and Sir. Then there was Nicole, shooting dagger-like stares. The kind that says, “Don’t get too happy—you don’t deserve it.” Honestly, I just wanted to go home. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere without judging eyes.

“Faith, try the kare-kare.”

“Faith, try the pinakbet.”

Sir Jaecob and Jomer said it at the same time! They both tried to serve me food, but the dishes didn’t even go well together. They exchanged sharp looks. The others at the table started coughing awkwardly. Me? I just wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

“Uhm… I’ll just try the adobo for now, Sir,” I said softly, but I knew they heard me. They both returned the serving spoons and resumed eating. The room fell silent, but the tension was thick—especially from Nicole, who seemed to have forgotten how to smile.

“Faith, would you like some juice?” Sir Jaecob asked, handing me a glass.

“Oh no, Sir, Faith is into healthy living. She doesn’t drink that stuff. She only drinks fresh fruit juice. I’ll take that instead, Sir!” Charls chimed in. I smiled. It was true. That’s what I was used to—my mom is a dietician. Because fresh fruit juice has a lot of benefits for our body. I miss my mom.

Because fresh fruit juice isn’t just a drink for me. It’s a memory. A piece of home.

Every time I take a sip, I remember my childhood. Mommy would press oranges with her bare hands—no machine, just love. She’d pour the juice into a small glass, always the same one. “Drink this, anak. It’ll make you strong, and happy,” she’d whisper, tired but tender.

Back then, I thought it was just juice. But now I know—it was comfort in liquid form. A promise. That I was cared for. That I was safe. Fresh fruit juice is healing. It’s sunshine in a glass. Natural sugars that don’t just energize but uplift. Nutrients that don’t just nourish but remind me that someone once made time for my well-being. It’s simple, yes. But for me, it’s everything. A drink that holds memories, healing, and love pressed and poured with hope.

“Hey! Faith! He just asked if you wanted juice, and you look like you’re about to cry,” Charie snapped me back to reality.

“Sorry, I just remembered something,” I replied with a forced smile.

“Here’s your water. Drink up so we can clean up.”

“Thanks, Charie.”

“I got you,” she said with a wink. Honestly, even if she’s a handful, she’s the one who lightens my mood.

“May I have your attention now, fellows? Before I start—flowers for you, Faith.”

And there it was again. Flowers. Spotlight. Where can I buy an invisibility cloak?

“Remember the A.G. Company that was choosing a school to donate a classroom to? As you all know, I asked Ma’am Faith to write the proposal, right? We were chosen! And not only that—each of you will receive your own printer!”

Applause and cheers erupted. But me? I was blushing, embarrassed. I looked around and couldn’t escape Nicole’s glare. A look that could burn you alive.

“You’re amazing, Faith! Good thing you’re with us!”

“No more waking up early!”

“No more late nights—thank you, Faith! My family will finally be whole again!”

Because every time he came home, his wife had already left for work.

Words full of gratitude. Honestly, they were nice to hear. But for me, it was enough to know I did something right. I didn’t need flowers. I didn’t need the spotlight. I just wanted peace.

“Oh, I just did what I could. It’s all for the good of everyone—especially our students,” I said shyly.

“Again, Ma’am Faith, thank you. You did great. Construction starts next month—just in time for the end of the school year.”

Whew… thank goodness. At least the year is ending. A break from the noise. From the envy. From the judging eyes.

As I left the office, Nicole followed behind. And of course, she couldn’t resist a jab.

“Feeling proud, huh? Congratulations, Faith! Pretty flowers—but they’ll wilt in a few days. Just like your career. Tsk tsk.”

Then she turned away. Like it was nothing.

“What’s your problem? You’re acting like you’re not even a teacher. If I could kick you out of here, I would! I’d send you to Mars!” Charls was furious, ready to pull her hair.

“Charls, don’t. Just let her be. She’ll get tired eventually.”

And me? I’ll stay silent. Because sometimes, the real battle isn’t in shouting. It’s in choosing peace. And in a world full of noise, that’s the bravest step.