CHAPTER 1

Traizle swung her leg off the motorcycle and let her tired feet touch the pavement, the late-night air brushing against her skin as she reached for her mini bag. Her hands, stiff from the long ride, fumbled briefly before she pulled out her phone. She immediately dialed the number of the customer—the one who claimed to be ordering food for nearly a hundred people. A rare order. A hopeful order. One she had spent the whole afternoon preparing.

The phone rang once… twice… then cut to a monotone beep.

Unavailable.

Her eyebrows knit together. She tried again, pressing the phone tighter to her ear as if that would somehow force the call to connect. Still nothing.

A thin ribbon of frustration curled in her chest. Maybe he’s just busy or maybe he stepped away from his phone.

She pushed the negative thoughts away and typed out a message, her thumb moving faster than her heartbeat.

"Good evening, sir. I’m here at the meeting point. Where should I wait?"

Minutes passed. No reply.

“Don’t tell me this is a freaking prank,” she muttered under her breath, though the sinking feeling in her stomach told her she already knew the answer.

She glanced at the mountain of food she had brought—containers stacked neatly in the crate, still warm but slowly cooling, their scents blending into something that made her chest tighten. Two large plastic bags hung from her handlebars, swaying slightly in the gentle night breeze.

If this turned out to be a prank it would be more than just wasted time. It would be money slipping from her fingers—the very money she needed to keep her family afloat.

She dialed again. Unavailable. She dialed once more. Still unavailable.

“Delivery for Mr. Zarsuelo!” she called out, raising her voice across the dimly lit sidewalk. Her words bounced weakly around the quiet street.

No footsteps approached. No one waved her over. No curious head peeked out from any corner.

She tried again, louder this time. “Delivery for Mr. Zarsuelo!”

Only the hum of distant traffic answered her.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. The food had gone from warm to lukewarm, and her hope had cooled right along with it. The line remained unavailable every time she called, like someone had deliberately turned it off the moment she arrived.

With a defeated slump of her shoulders, Traizle released a long, hollow sigh. That was it. The biggest order she’d received in weeks—gone. Her time, wasted. Her effort, mocked.

“I was tricked,” she whispered to herself, letting out a short, bitter laugh as she strapped her helmet back on. “Do they think we have a lot of money? That it’s okay to play around like this?” Her voice wavered between anger and exhaustion.

She straddled the motorcycle, gripping the handles tightly.

“Damn that Zarsuelo!” she shouted, louder than she intended.

Several people nearby turned their heads, startled. Some exchanged confused glances, others simply stared at her. In their murmurs, she heard the unspoken pity, the quiet judgment.

She couldn’t take it. She revved the engine and sped away.

“Oh?” her co-worker exclaimed when she returned, eyes widening as he took in the untouched orders strapped to her motorcycle. “What happened?” he asked.

“Got tricked,” Traizle muttered, her voice flat. “When I got to the meeting place, he wouldn’t answer. The line said unavailable. I waited for half an hour and nothing. No Zarsuelo.”

Her co-worker frowned sympathetically. Before he could speak, the owner of the snack bar walked out, her gaze dropping to the bags of food.

“You got tricked?” she asked, her tone edged with both disbelief and frustration. Traizle simply nodded.

The owner gently took the bags from her hands. “I’ll reheat these,” she said softly. “We’ll help you sell everything. Go finish your other deliveries.”

Her co-workers had all been in her shoes before. Prank customers, wasted money, long waits that led to nothing. They patted her shoulder, murmuring comforting words, but the heaviness weighing down her chest didn’t budge.

Traizle wasn’t just upset. She was calculating—every peso lost meant less for electricity, food, school expenses. Less for everything her brothers needed.

And she couldn’t afford less.

Her parents had abandoned them long ago. Her father first, then her mother. The memory was still raw, still unfair. She remembered the empty bottles, the fights, the gambling and the morning she woke up to a quiet house, her mother gone along with all her belongings. No note. No apology. Nothing.

Since then, Traizle had worked nonstop, carrying responsibilities a girl her age shouldn’t have to bear.

Hours later, she finally made her way home on her worn motorcycle where the engine coughing every few blocks, threatening to give out like it always did. It had been given to her by a kind neighbor before he moved away. A gift that saved her. A gift she clung to until today.

The door swung open the moment she arrived. “Why are you late?” Lyndon asked, his eyebrows rising in concern.

“I tried asking the neighbors if they wanted to buy the leftover food,” Traizle said, easing herself onto a chair as she removed her shoes. Her feet were sore, her body heavier than usual. “I got pranked by someone who ordered food for almost a hundred people. When I got there no one showed up.”

She tossed her shoes onto the low rack with a dull thud.

Lyndon frowned. “Didn’t you think it was suspicious from the start? A hundred people?” he asked back.

“He sounded formal,” Traizle opened her bag, pulling out the remaining food. “He sounded serious. It didn’t feel like a prank. For real.” she explained herself.

The snack bar owner had helped sell some of it, but it was already past midnight. No one bought large meals at that hour. They had been fortunate to sell even a few.

“Did you two eat?” she asked, handing her brother a footlong.

Lyndon nodded. “Yeah. Layzen tried waiting for you, but he fell asleep.”

“And you?” she asked, eyeing him.

He blinked. “And me, what?”

“Why are you still awake? You have class tomorrow. And you’re eating my food at midnight.”

“I was worried,” he said simply. “You were late. What if something happened to you? And now you handed me food. What do you expect me to do? Ignore it?”

Despite herself, Traizle cracked a small smile. “Thanks for your apathetic concern," she replied. "And yeah,” she added, deadpan. “You can stare at it if you want.”

“Anyway—”

“That ‘anyway’ scares me.” she cut in immediately.

Lyndon looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to burden you, especially after what happened but I need to buy books this week. My adviser said I’m the only one who still doesn’t have any.”

Traizle paused. Then she grabbed her wallet.

“You have eight subjects, right?” she asked. He nodded. “Buy four books tomorrow. The ones you need for your morning classes. I’ll send money during your break for the remaining four.”

She handed over the money without hesitation.

“How about our daily expenses? Budget? Everything else?” Lyndon asked, guilt creeping into his voice.

“That’s for me to worry about,” Traizle said, firm. “Your job is to study. Get high grades. That’s your payment.”

Lyndon made a face. “Is taking care of Layzen not enough?”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s your responsibility as an older brother.”

“Well… I guess I’m kinda responsible.” he admitted with a laugh.

“What do you mean kinda?” she demanded.

“I couldn’t play properly at the computer shop earlier,” he confessed. “Layzen kept clicking the mouse. My team lost because of him.”

Both siblings burst into laughter.

“You should give him your phone next time,” Traizle suggested. “D******d games for kids.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Lyndon leaned back. “Oh, and about my school expenses, don’t worry too much. I applied for a scholarship last week. We just have to wait for confirmation.”

Traizle’s eyes widened. “You did?”

He nodded. “If I get pre-qualified, you won’t need to work all your sidelines. We’ll manage better.”

Her heart softened. “Just keep your grades up. That scholarship will help us a lot. And I’m not quitting anything until we’re stable,” She pointed at the table. “Clean those crumbs before you sleep.”

Lyndon groaned but stood up anyway.

Traizle watched him, exhaustion finally settling into her bones yet beneath it was something warm and steady.

Despite everything…

Despite all the burdens she had to carry…

She was grateful.

Because her brothers understood her in ways no one else ever had.

And for her, that was enough.