I, Maria Iris Venise Rueva, a girl who grew up in a middle-class home where I grew to believe that love was measured in medals, grades, and achievements. Academic validation wasn't just encouraged- it was the only proof that I matter to everyone. So, I pushed myself to exhaustion, always chasing approval, striving very hard in such a young age, and always carrying the heavy silent expectations of my family. My only escape was my guitar-the strings that knew her secrets, her emotions. The songs that silenced her demons. And sometimes, that escape was a person. Ryence Yvo Feliz My childhood neighbor. My childhood nemesis. My childhood solace. He was the boy who annoyed me to no end, yet the same boy who could make her laugh when the world felt like it was collapsing. He came from a family of lawyers and wealth. Malayong malayo sa abot ko. But he never made me feel like I was small. Too small for him. Together, we found refuge in music, weaving unspoken feelings into harmonies only we can understand. We were best friends but sometimes enemies until highschool separated them-different schools, different paths-but we never truly let go. Our connection lingered, slow-burning, unspoken, undeniable. We both felt it. We both knew. But neither of us had dared to call it what it was. And in our fear of losing what we had started, we simply let ourselves fall for each other-hard.