December rolled in on a gust of warm wind and yellowing leaves, as the trees of UP Los Baños began to shed in preparation for the dry season. Carmela had grown used to the quiet charm of the campus—the balance of technology and nature felt almost symbolic of the life she was trying to create: one foot in the future, one grounded in the soil of who she had been.
With each passing week, she sank deeper into her IT coursework. The initial struggles of debugging and syntax errors were now replaced by hours of focused concentration, whiteboard sessions with her classmates, and a growing comfort with databases and algorithms. She was no longer a beginner peeking through the door of the tech world. She was inside now, building her corner one project at a time.
She had landed a part-time internship with a small IT firm in Calamba, working remotely on simple backend tasks and system documentation. The work wasn't glamorous, but it was real. Every successful update she committed to the team's GitHub felt like adding bricks to the foundation of her future. The salary wasn't much, but she saved what she could—a quiet promise to her future self.
But college wasn't just about code and assignments. It was late-night lugaw at the campus carinderia with new friends, spontaneous karaoke nights at dorms, and afternoons spent walking under the acacia trees talking about everything and nothing.
Raziel, now studying at a nearby university in the city, made frequent trips to Los Baños when he could. Their friendship had settled into a rhythm—comfortable, easy, and filled with tiny shared rituals. They met on Saturdays at their favorite café tucked near Grove, where Raziel worked on his robotics blueprints and Carmela reviewed her code.
That particular Saturday, the café buzzed with the soft hum of indie music and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Carmela arrived with her laptop and a tote bag filled with books, her hair up in a loose bun, glasses slipping down her nose.
"I got us the corner table," Raziel called out, waving her over.
"You read my mind," she grinned, setting down her things.
He passed her a cup. "Iced caramel latte."
She raised an eyebrow. "You memorized my order?"
"Of course. It's not like it's changed since high school."
She sipped and smiled. "Thanks."
They worked quietly for a while, the kind of silence that felt more like harmony than awkwardness. Occasionally, Raziel would show her a schematic, and she'd point out where a command might go wrong. She never told him that these Saturdays felt like the calm within her hectic college storm.
"So," he said, breaking the quiet, "I heard from Jean you're joining the UPLB tech startup competition next month."
Carmela laughed softly. "Jean and her big mouth. But yes. I got invited to join a team. We're pitching an app for helping small businesses track their inventory using just their phones."
"That sounds amazing."
"It still feels surreal. I mean, a year ago, I was still deciding between writing or tech."
Raziel looked at her thoughtfully. "You can still do both."
"I know. But I think I finally made peace with writing being something I do to breathe. Not for the spotlight."
He nodded. "And tech?"
Her eyes lit up. "Tech feels like my hands can finally touch the future."
Later that evening, they walked back to the dorms under a sky spattered with stars. Raziel slowed his steps.
"Carmela, can I ask something... not about school or tech?"
She glanced up, curious. "Sure."
He scratched the back of his neck, unsure. "Do you ever think about... us?"
The question hung between them like static in the air.
She inhaled. Carefully. Slowly.
"I do," she said honestly. "More than I used to."
He looked hopeful.
"But I'm still figuring things out. I don't want to promise anything until I know who I am without someone else."
Raziel smiled gently. "I can wait. I just wanted to know if I should."
Carmela touched his arm, sincere. "You should."
---
By mid-December, classes became more intense. Her data structures professor was strict, and her software development class required a full prototype by finals. It would have been overwhelming if not for her growing sense of control.
Every Sunday, she called her family back home in the province. Her mother proudly told her how the herbal business was gaining local attention thanks to Carmela's suggestion to start an online presence. They now received small bulk orders from nearby towns.
"Your uncle even asked if we could supply for his resort's spa," her mom said, excitement lacing her voice.
Carmela promised to design a better inventory system for them soon.
In between deadlines, she still updated her blog. Her latest post, titled "Bug Fixes and Becoming," talked about the lessons she learned from both code and life—how every problem, no matter how complex, had a solution if you took it apart piece by piece.
One day, she received an unexpected email from a tech magazine for students. They wanted to feature her blog in their upcoming issue.
Carmela stared at the screen, blinking. Then she squealed loud enough to startle her roommate.
"What happened?"
"I'm going to be published," she gasped.
Her roommate clapped. "You're amazing. You know that, right?"
Carmela grinned. "I think I'm starting to believe it."
---
The startup competition drew closer, and her team met almost every night to finalize their pitch. They called their app "Taguyod," a simple inventory tracker with offline capability and a clean user interface for sari-sari store owners and market vendors.
On pitch day, Carmela stood on stage in a crisp white blouse and navy slacks, her hair neatly tied back. She spoke with clarity and passion about their vision—to empower small entrepreneurs with tools usually reserved for larger businesses.
The judges were impressed. One investor even approached them afterward, offering mentorship.
Though they didn't win first place, they were among the top three and earned a grant to further develop their app.
Carmela could barely contain her joy. As she walked out of the venue, the air buzzing with potential, Raziel was waiting at the steps with a bouquet of sunflowers.
"You did it," he said simply.
She hugged him. "We did it. Thank you for always believing in me."
"Always," he replied, voice soft.
---
As the semester neared its end, Carmela found herself reflecting on everything that had happened. The girl she had been in her past life would never have imagined this version of herself: thriving in a competitive field, finding joy in problem-solving, and slowly opening her heart again.
She was no longer driven by regret.
Instead, she was powered by purpose.
One evening, alone in her dorm, she opened her old journal. The one she had started when she returned to her younger self.
Flipping through its pages, she saw her evolution in every scribbled line—from heartbreak to healing, confusion to clarity.
She added one final line for the day:
*"This time, I'm not surviving life. I'm designing it."*
---
The final week of classes arrived with deadlines, but Carmela faced them head-on. She submitted her final project—a fully functioning prototype of a community-based donation platform. Her professor called it "impressively practical."
On her last night before Christmas break, Raziel invited her for dinner. They went to a modest restaurant overlooking the university's gardens, lights twinkling like stars trapped in trees.
After their meal, as they walked out under the December sky, Raziel took her hand gently.
"No rush," he said. "But I think we're getting closer to something real."
Carmela nodded, smiling. "I think so too."
---
That night, she sent a message to her mom:
**Carmela:** "I'll be home tomorrow. Can we plant something together this weekend? I miss getting my hands dirty."
**Mama:** "Of course, anak. The garden misses you too."
And just like that, she knew she was living not just a second chance...
But a life rewritten with courage, choice, and love.
The code was no longer broken.
She was no longer debugging her past.
She was building her future, line by line.