Chapter 1

Jessa had barely reached the staircase when she caught a whiff of something burning. Thick black smoke was already seeping out from the kitchen door.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Without thinking twice, she bolted down the stairs and ran toward the kitchen, yelling at the top of her lungs.

"Fire! Nana! Papa! Oh my God, FIRE!"

The moment she stepped inside, a thick cloud of smoke greeted her, making her cough violently.

"Papa!" she called out, spotting her father standing helplessly in front of the stove, frantically trying to put out the flames.

"Sweetheart, get out of here! It's too smoky!" her father shouted back.

Jessa rolled her eyes. Obviously! The thick smoke filling the air was a dead giveaway that they were seconds away from burning alive!

Without wasting another moment, she rushed to grab the fire extinguisher hanging behind the door. Quickly, she pointed the hose at the stove, pulled the pin, and squeezed the lever. A burst of white chemical sprayed out, smothering the flames until they finally died down.

She let out a heavy sigh of relief, slumping onto the floor.

"Tsk. Overcooked," her father muttered with a click of his tongue.

Jessa shot him a deadly glare.

Her father might be in his fifties, but with his fair skin and small frame, he could easily pass for someone in his forties. He barely stood at 4'11" and had a stocky build. His eyes were narrow, his head completely bald and shiny—something Jessa had gotten used to growing up. She had never seen him with even a single strand of hair in her entire life. Honestly, with his round belly leading the way, he looked more like a comedian than a businessman.

"Overcooked?! Papa, you nearly burned the whole house down!" she snapped.

He winced and scratched his already glistening head, drenched in sweat. Jessa shook her head at the sight of him—his nose blackened with soot, sweat dripping down his face.

"Where's Nana? Why are you cooking?" She stood up, pushing the fire extinguisher aside before stepping toward the stove. She grimaced at the sight of six charred, unrecognizable fish-shaped objects, each barely the length of her finger and no more than an inch wide.

"What is this?" She turned to him, expecting an explanation.

"Fish?" he replied, though it sounded more like a question than an answer.

"Fish?" Jessa repeated, frowning. "Since when did you even start eating fish, Papa? And where is Nana? Nana!" she called out for their long-time housekeeper, the only one left after her father decided to cut costs.

They used to have four housekeepers. But just last week, her father declared that they needed to budget wisely—so he let three of them go, keeping only Nana, who had been with them since Jessa was a child.

"Uh... I, uh... I made her resign too," her father admitted, looking guilty.

Jessa whipped her head toward him.

"WHAT?!"

He flinched at her sharp voice.

"Papa! Neither of us knows how to cook, and you fired Nana?!" she scolded, exasperated. He lowered his head like a child being scolded, playing with his hands. Jessa let out a long, frustrated sigh. Honestly, dealing with him is worse than taking care of an actual kid.

"Tell me the truth, Papa." Her voice softened as she looked him straight in the eye. "Is the hardware store failing, too?"

It was the last business her mother had built before she passed away.

Two years ago, they had five spa and wellness branches across Metro Manila, hectares of rice fields in Quezon, an auto repair shop, a junk shop, and the hardware store.

But ever since her mother's death, their businesses started collapsing—one by one. The only thing keeping them afloat now was the hardware store.

And from the looks of it... even that was hanging by a thread.

Her father sighed. "Not yet, sweetheart..."

Jessa almost breathed a sigh of relief—until he continued.

"But it will fail soon..."

"Ugh! Papa!" she groaned, stomping her feet in frustration. Where will we end up if we lose the hardware store too? How will they afford food? Pay the bills?

"I-I'm trying to fix it, sweetheart... I really am..."

Jessa's anger wavered as she saw the sorrow in his eyes.

She bit her lip before sighing heavily. Without another word, she grabbed her bag from the floor.

"I'm leaving," she muttered, stepping toward him. She kissed his forehead and wrinkled her nose. "Take a shower, Papa. You stink."

He grinned sheepishly, nodding eagerly.

Shaking her head, she walked out of the kitchen.

"Be careful, sweetheart!" he called after her.

She just waved a hand in response, already lost in thought.

Their situation was bad. And if she didn't do something soon... it was only going to get worse.

Before when she used to go to school, she rode in a service car with a driver—no need to walk several kilometers just to catch a jeepney to the university. But that was before. Things were different now. They could no longer afford a driver, and even the car was long gone, sold off along with everything else they used to have.

Now, all they had left was their house and the hardware store. Even their so-called friends had disappeared, and their relatives barely acknowledged them anymore.

The moment their businesses and wealth started dwindling, so did the people around them. She was just grateful that her mother had secured an educational plan for her, allowing her to continue her studies despite everything.

Sometimes, she wanted to break down and cry over how their lives had turned upside down, especially when she saw her father struggling. But her pride wouldn't allow it. She refused to let fate see her defeated. As long as she was breathing, there was still hope.

She wiped the sweat off her forehead while waiting at the roadside, where jeepneys regularly passed by en route to her university.

It was only eight in the morning, but the crowd waiting for a ride was already overwhelming.

This was her daily routine—pushing and squeezing her way onto a packed jeepney just to get to school.

Her first class wasn't until nine, but she always left early to have enough time to change clothes in the school restroom, ensuring she still looked fresh when she entered the classroom.

By eight-thirty, she was in the restroom, changing into a clean outfit. Once done, she headed straight to the canteen. She was starving, having skipped breakfast.

As she walked down the hallway, she spotted Ycos—a civil engineering student.

Her ultimate crush since freshman year.

"Hey, Jes," he greeted her with a smile, revealing his perfectly straight, white teeth.

Oh. My. God.

She managed a small smile in return, and as he walked past, she subtly inhaled his scent.

Her day was already made. Just seeing Ycos was enough.

She had been crushing on him ever since they joined the same school club. Unlike most guys who were arrogant and full of themselves, Ycos was kind and quiet. He was a scholar and quite popular at the university, yet he remained humble and always greeted everyone with a warm smile.

Whenever she got the chance, she would secretly try to catch his attention.

At the cafeteria, she lined up to buy food. She wanted sausage, bacon, and black coffee, but her budget wouldn't allow it. With a sigh, she settled for a sandwich and a small bottle of Tropicana juice.

Her next paycheck from the café where she worked was still a week away. She no longer asked her father for allowance, knowing he was already struggling financially.

After paying, she took her tray and turned around—only to bump into someone behind her.

The tray hit the person's chest, and the juice spilled all over their clothes. The glass bottle crashed to the floor, shattering at their feet.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—" she blurted out, frantically rummaging through her bag for a handkerchief. She quickly tried to wipe the spilled juice off their shirt. "I swear, I didn't mean to—"

Then, she looked up.

Her breath hitched.

Of all people... why did it have to be him?

Xyrius Dale Smith.