Chapter 1: (Peak's POV)
I thought the day I walked out of Central High for the last time would feel like freedom. No more whispers behind my back about second-hand clothes or the "tricycle kid" who somehow got lucky with his Irish mom's fair skin. No more dodging Gabo's shadow. Just me, Maeve Peak Romano, finally proving to Mom and Dad that their sacrifices weren't wasted.
I was wrong.
College was supposed to be my reset. A fresh start at one of the best universities in the city. I took Accountancy because Mom said my head for numbers—or at least what they thought were just numbers—would keep us stable someday. Thanks to her relative who called me "smart, apparently," everything was covered: tuition, books, even a little allowance. For once, I wasn't going to be the kid scraping by. I could just focus on studying, keep my head down like I always did, and build something solid for the future.
At least, that was the plan.
The first day, the campus smelled like new beginnings—fresh-cut grass, printer ink, and the faint buzz of possibility. I caught my reflection in the glass hallway: 17 years old, 5'10, long hair tied back, Mom's sharp features mixed with Dad's slanted eyes. Oversized polo and worn pants, sure, but I was here. That had to be worth something.
Then a familiar grip clamped down on my shoulder like a vice.
"Aargh!" I twisted free on instinct.
Gabo's smirk hadn't changed since high school.
"What, you gonna fight back, pussy?"
I forced a calm breath. College now. Different chapter. "Hey, Gabo... we can stop that now. Fresh start, right?"
He laughed, stomped on my shoe for old times' sake, and sauntered off like he owned the hallway.
I let it roll off. I'd survived worse. I'd taught myself to survive on books, quiet hobbies, and the kind of stubborn focus that let a poor half-Irish, half-Filipino kid even get this far. Bullies were loud, but they were temporary. My future wasn't.
Or so I told myself.
The semester started strong—professors noticing my work, quiet satisfaction in getting things right. But Gabo kept coming. The pressure built. And I would soon be involved in a lot of trouble, vices I was forced into and things I would never get out from.
The doubts crept in. And by the time the final report card landed on our table, the score didn't lie. I failed everyone. My parents, my siblings, and myself.
Mom's disappointed silence hurt more than any insult Gabo ever threw.
The sponsor pulled out. Tuition became impossible. College paused, and suddenly I was back in our cramped house, staring at the walls, wondering how the eldest son with "potential" had already stumbled this badly.
That's when Tita Cory showed up.
Dad's older sister, a sharp-eyed restaurant manager, took one look at me and cut straight through the fog. "Kitchen work, Peak. You don't have to smile at customers if you don't want to. Just don't burn the place down on day one."
I gave her a small, tired grin. "Deal, Tita Cory."
She laughed—the first real sound of hope I'd heard in weeks.
As I stepped into that busy restaurant kitchen the next morning, surrounded by clanging pans and shouted orders, I felt something shift. No more pretending to fit into a world that kept pushing me to be something I am not. This was raw, real, and mine to figure out.
I didn't know it yet, but the fire that would make me unbreakable was already starting to catch.
And this time, I wasn't going to let anyone—not Gabo, not failure, not my own doubts—put it out.
