THE SHADOWS WE LIVE IN

Three months later — September 2011

The Funtasierra apartment in Malate was small and cramped compared to the Zumatra Mansion, but it was home. Tera sat at the kitchen table, her homework spread out before her, while her grandmother peeled garlic over a bowl of adobo.

“Your father’s coming home late again,” Lola Carmen said, her voice rough from years of smoking hand-rolled cigarettes. “Meeting with that friend of his.”

“Mr. Zumatra?” Tera asked, her pencil stilling on her math worksheet.

Lola Carmen nodded, her weathered hands moving with practiced ease. “They’re talking about some business deal. Roberto Zumatra wants your father to handle his company’s legal affairs. Says he trusts him like family.”

Tera’s chest tightened. Family. The word felt like a knife. She hadn’t seen Magnus since his birthday, hadn’t even been allowed to call the hospital. Delara visited him every day, coming home with stories about how he was doing, how he’d asked about Tera — though Tera suspected those parts were lies.

“Lola,” she said quietly. “What if you do something good, but everyone thinks you did something bad?”

Her grandmother looked up, her dark eyes studying Tera’s face. She set down the garlic and pulled a chair beside her, taking her small hand in hers. “Then you remember what you did, anak. The truth doesn’t need anyone to believe it to be real.”

“But it hurts,” Tera whispered.

“I know,” Lola Carmen said, squeezing her hand. “But pain passes. The truth stays with you forever.”

The front door opened, and their father, Manuel Funtasierra, walked in. He was dressed in his only good suit, his tie loosened, his face tired. He kissed Lola Carmen on the forehead, then ruffled Tera’s hair.

“How’s my smart girl?” he asked, though his eyes were distant.

“Fine,” Tera said.

“Good,” he said, moving to the sink to pour himself a glass of water. “I have something to tell you both. Roberto’s offered to pay for Delara to attend the International School Manila. It’s one of the best schools in the country — will set her up for life.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Lola Carmen said, though her voice was careful. “What about Tera?”

Manuel paused, his hand on the glass. “The scholarship is only for one child. And Delara… she’s better suited to that kind of environment. Tera does just fine at our local school.”

Tera looked down at her worksheet, her eyes stinging. She knew what he wasn’t saying — that Delara was the “good” daughter, the one who hadn’t caused a scandal, the one who was friends with the billionaire’s son. Tera was just the other one, the mistake he’d made before he married Delara’s mother.

That night, she crept into the living room where Delara was on the phone, her voice low and secretive.

“…I know, Magnus. I miss you too. Don’t worry about Tera — she’s not allowed to come near the mansion anymore. It’s better this way, don’t you think? Just you and me…”

Tera backed away quietly, her heart breaking into tiny pieces. She’d known Delara was lying about what happened, but hearing her claim Magnus as her own was worse than any accusation.

She ran to her room and pulled out the small wooden chess piece Magnus had carved for her — a white queen, its edges worn smooth from being held so often. She pressed it to her chest and whispered the promise they’d made in their fort: I’ll always look out for you.

But looking out for someone meant letting them go, she realized. Even if it broke her heart.

Paris, France — September 2012

The rain fell in sheets against the windows of the Lycée International de Saint-Germain-en-Laye, turning the manicured lawns into a sea of mud. Tera stood at the window, her hands wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate, watching the other students play soccer in the drizzle. She’d been in France for a year, and she still felt like an outsider — the quiet girl from the Philippines who spoke French with an accent, who wore secondhand clothes and never talked about her family.

“Terafina?”

She turned to find Madame Dubois, her biology teacher, standing in the doorway. The woman was tall and thin, with gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, but her eyes were kind. “I wanted to talk to you about your application to the pre-med program.”

Tera set down her cup, her stomach fluttering. She’d been working toward this for months, spending every free moment studying, volunteering at the local hospital. “Yes, Madame?”

“You have excellent grades,” Madame Dubois said, sitting beside her. “And your volunteer work is impressive. But the program is highly competitive. They want students who can show passion — a reason for wanting to study medicine.”

Tera thought of Magnus’ broken leg, of her hands working to stabilize it, of the knowledge she’d gained from her grandmother. She thought of all the people in Tondo who couldn’t afford proper medical care, who suffered because they didn’t have someone to help them.

“My grandmother was a nurse,” she said quietly. “She taught me that healing isn’t just about medicine — it’s about caring for people. When I was seven, a boy I loved fell and broke his leg. I was able to help him because of what she taught me. But no one ever knew. They thought I’d hurt him instead.”

Madame Dubois listened carefully, her expression softening. “And that’s why you want to study physical therapy?”

Tera nodded. “I want to help people regain their ability to move, to live their lives fully. I want to be the person who’s there when someone needs help — and this time, I want to be able to do it without being afraid.”

Madame Dubois reached across the table and patted her hand. “Then write about that. Tell them your story. The truth has power, Terafina. Never forget that.”

That night, Tera sat at her desk and wrote until dawn, pouring her heart into her application essay. She didn’t mention Magnus by name, didn’t talk about the lies or the blame. She wrote about her grandmother, about the boy who fell, about her desire to turn pain into purpose.

When she finished, she read it over and smiled. For the first time in a year, she didn’t feel like a victim. She felt like someone who was going to make a difference.

A week later, she received a letter from her father. Delara had been accepted to the University of the Philippines, he wrote, and Mr. Zumatra had offered to pay for her entire education. He mentioned that Magnus was doing well, that he’d started using a brace and could walk with only a slight limp. He didn’t ask how Tera was doing.

Tera folded the letter and put it in her desk drawer, beside the white chess piece. She’d stopped hoping for an apology, stopped waiting for someone to tell her the truth. She was building a new life for herself, one where her worth wasn’t determined by what others thought of her.

But sometimes, late at night, she’d look at the chess piece and wonder what Magnus was doing, if he ever thought about her, if he still believed she’d pushed him.

She pushed those thoughts away and focused on her studies. She had work to do.