Professor Healer

Episode 1: The Kind Professor

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The sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the modest Lazatin household. It was a beautiful morning, calm and peaceful—except for the high-pitched ring of an alarm clock that had been blaring for the last ten minutes.

Erick Lazatin stirred in bed, his face buried in his pillow, until he finally opened one bleary eye. The clock on his bedside table read 7:45 a.m.

His brain took a second to process that information.

7:45 a.m.

It hit him like a ton of bricks. "OH MY GOD!"

Erick leaped out of bed, his heart racing. Today was Kiara's first day of daycare, and he had completely overslept. His feet got tangled in the bed sheets, causing him to stumble onto the floor in a heap. Without wasting a second, he scrambled to his feet and rushed out of the bedroom in full panic mode.

"Kiara! We're late! Oh no, we're so late!" Erick yelled as he ran down the hallway, frantically trying to put on his pants while tripping over his own feet.

The house was in chaos. Erick darted into the kitchen, his mind racing with a mental checklist of everything he still needed to do: cook breakfast, pack snacks, get Kiara dressed, brush her hair, and somehow manage to look halfway presentable for work. His wife, Karla, used to handle mornings like these with the calm grace of a ballet dancer. But since she had passed away, mornings had been anything but graceful for Erick.

He fumbled with the stove, trying to remember where he had left the frying pan. He opened cabinets, drawers, and even the fridge in his frantic search. "Where's the pan? Why is nothing where it's supposed to be?!" He was nearly pulling his hair out when a voice broke through his whirlwind of stress.

"Oh for the love of all things holy, Kuya, calm down."

Erick whipped around to see his sister, Ericka Lazatin, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. Dressed in her usual "rough around the edges" attire—ripped jeans, combat boots, and a leather jacket—she looked out of place in the cozy kitchen, but there was a certain calmness about her.

"Ericka! Where have you been? We're late, I haven't even—" Erick started, flailing his arms in a desperate attempt to convey the gravity of the situation.

Ericka rolled her eyes and pointed toward the dining room. "Relax, Kuya. I already cooked breakfast, packed Kiara's lunch, and got her dressed. She's finishing her toast right now."

Erick blinked, completely thrown off. "You... did?"

"Yeah," Ericka said, brushing a strand of dark hair out of her face. "While you were busy snoring like a dying horse."

Erick paused for a second, his panic slowly subsiding. His sister had, once again, come to the rescue. He sighed with relief, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks, Ericka. I don't know what I'd do without—"

"And don't even think about giving me that mushy 'thank you' speech," she interrupted. "Just get dressed. You look like a homeless penguin."

Erick chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he grabbed a clean shirt from the laundry basket. "You know, you're not half as bad as you pretend to be."

Ericka raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Don't get soft on me, Kuya."

As Erick slipped his shirt on, he muttered under his breath, "How did Karla manage to put up with me all these years?"