PUPCET

I stepped out of the classroom, and a light breeze greeted me, cooling my skin for a moment before the thick, sticky air took over. I stood still for a second, savoring that fleeting hint of relief. High school days will soon be over, I thought. But as the breeze faded, the humidity wrapped around me like a heavy, suffocating blanket. I tugged at my collar, feeling beads of sweat already forming at my neck. The constant buzz of Quezon City High School hummed behind me—teachers calling out instructions, students laughing, shuffling their feet—yet for the first time in weeks, I wasn't thinking about any of it. No more textbooks, no more quizzes. Graduation was just around the corner, and I'd already taken the National University entrance exam. The weight I'd been carrying for months, the constant knot of stress, slowly began to loosen its grip on my chest.

As I reached up to adjust my glasses, my fingers instinctively ran through my hair. That damn hair. My friends never missed a chance to remind me. "Rizal!" they'd shout, grinning ear to ear as if they'd come up with the joke for the first time. My hair curled at the sides, an accidental mimicry of our national hero. "Here comes the hero!" their voices echoed in my head. I always laughed along, brushing it off as nothing. But today, the name felt heavier, as if their teasing carried with it an expectation—an expectation I wasn't sure I was ready for.

I was halfway down the steps when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I nearly dropped it in my rush to pull it out, my fingers fumbling to unlock the screen. The afternoon sun glared off the glass, making it hard to read, but I saw the subject line immediately: Congratulations!

I froze mid-step, my heart doing a weird little somersault in my chest. This was it.

With a shaky breath, I tapped the email open, my eyes scanning the words. Passed. Admission. Information Technology or Computer Science. The words blurred for a moment before they came into focus, and a wave of disbelief hit me first, followed by a rush of relief so intense it felt like a physical release. I had done it. I'd actually passed. All those sleepless nights, cramming formulas and coding terms, the stress of it all—it had paid off. I had secured a spot in my top two choices.

A laugh burst out of me, sharp and sudden, the kind that bubbles up uncontrollably when the pressure lifts off your shoulders. I couldn't stop it, not even if I wanted to. The people around me probably thought I was crazy, laughing alone on the school steps, but I didn't care. This was the moment I'd been waiting for—finally, a future that I could shape on my own terms.

Then, reality crashed back in.

Dinner at home felt heavier that night. It started innocently enough—just the clinking of utensils and the soft murmur of conversation. But I could sense it, the weight of something unsaid hanging in the air. My parents exchanged looks across the table, the kind that made my gut twist. Not anger, not disappointment, just that quiet concern that always felt like a noose slowly tightening around whatever dreams I had.

Dad cleared his throat, his spoon tapping gently against his plate. "You've done well, anak," he said, pride lacing his words. But there was a shift in his eyes, a flicker of something that made my chest tighten. "But... have you thought about Engineering? It's a solid path."

I forced a smile, my grip tightening around my fork. "Dad, I passed for IT or Computer Science. That's what I've been working for."

Mom, always the diplomat, chimed in, her voice soft but persistent. "We're proud of you. Really. But engineering is more... practical. You could consider Computer Engineering. It's the best of both worlds—your passion and a stable future."

There it was. The gentle push, the unspoken pressure. They weren't saying I was wrong, but their concern was thick in the air, hanging between every word. Security, stability—those were the silent buzzwords woven into their argument. I could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down, as if my choices weren't enough.