Haven Audrea Polina grew up asking questions the world never answered kindly. Bakit may mayaman at may mahirap? Bakit may magaling at may pangkaraniwan lang? Bakit may mga taong isinilang na parang sigurado na sa sarili--habang ang iba, pilit hinuhubog ang pagkatao para lang matawag na may silbi? She lives between four corners--of a room, of a classroom, of expectations she learned to carry too early. A girl who can do many things, yet holds nothing she can truly call her own. She exists quietly, believing that being ordinary is safer than hoping for more. Haven never wished upon stars. Not because she didn't believe in them--but because she feared the cost. She learned early that the universe has a way of taking something back. And with a family already held together by sacrifice and love, she chose gratitude over longing. Settling felt like survival. Until Gabriel Elias Martinez came into her orbit. With eyes that carried warmth instead of distance, he showed her a world beyond what she had learned to afford. Beyond fear. Beyond quiet self-denial. Through him, Haven saw color where she once only allowed herself comfort. And for the first time, she looked up-not to ask for more, but to wonder if she was allowed to keep what made her feel alive. Yet stars have their own sky. A light pulled too close can burn. A star forced out of its place can lose its glow. And love-when tangled with fear, class, timing, and self-worth--can become something fragile. So Haven does what she has always done. She steps back. She looks up. And instead of wishing, she prays--that the star she learned to love remains alight, even if her place is only to look up from afar.