Chapter 1: Time for a Fresh Start

The sun peeked through my bedroom window, casting a warm glow on the first day of college. Excitement and nerves mingled within me as I rose from my bed, knowing that I, a mere sixteen-year-old, would step foot into a sea of unfamiliar faces.

The university had graciously accepted me, despite my tender age, making me the youngest freshman on campus. Yet, this honor came with its own set of worries, for I was about to dive headfirst into an entirely new community, a daunting prospect indeed.

As I stood before the mirror, my reflection stared back at me, revealing traces of trepidation in my eyes. The remnants of past torment haunted my thoughts, remnants that echoed through the corridors of my mind. High school had been a battlefield, where bullies had once thrived on my vulnerability.

Yet, a glimmer of hope beckons from the realm of possibility, assuring me that college holds a different fate. The whispers of my peers echo in my ears, their assurances that this new realm is devoid of bullies. I held onto that hope with fervor, desperately yearning for a fresh start, a chance to shed the shackles of the past.

Banishing those doubts from my mind, I resolved to embark on this new journey with determination. Today was the day to unveil a better version of myself, to blossom amidst the opportunities that awaited me in this unfamiliar realm. With a determined spirit, I steel myself for the day that lies ahead, ready to embark on a journey of self-discovery and growth.

Amidst my preparations, I suddenly hear a gentle knock on my bedroom door. It's Gary, my personal butler, faithful in his duty to care for my needs. "Sir Eric, breakfast is ready," he announces, his voice a calming presence.

"I'll be down shortly. Just putting the finishing touches on," I reply, slipping into a navy green sweater to complement my crisp white polo shirt. A question lingers on my lips as I adjust the silver quartz watch my father bequeathed to me. "By the way, is Father joining me for breakfast?"

Gary's response carries a hint of melancholy. "I believe he has already left, Sir."

"This early?" I feign surprise, glancing at the clock, which mocks me with its unyielding hands, displaying a cruel 7:30 a.m. Father has grown busier since Mother's passing, burdened with the weight of our family's legacy. Still, a small part of me craves the connection we once shared. "I understand his obligations, but I sometimes wish we could steal a moment together. It's been ages since..."

My sentence hangs in the air, unfinished, as my phone suddenly springs to life. It's Max, my best friend. Excusing myself, I inform Gary that I'll be down shortly and accept the call, eager to hear her voice.

"Eric! Can you believe it? The day we've been waiting for is finally here!" Her voice echoes with unbridled enthusiasm. "We're freshmen in the same university!"

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, warmth spreading through my chest. "I'm glad that we get to embark on this journey together. Although, regrettably, we'll only share one class."

Her optimism resonates, and I find solace in her unwavering belief. "I know it won't be easy, but we'll conquer this challenge, won't we?"

"We absolutely will!" Max exclaims cheerfully. "By the way, we're still meeting by the entrance later, right?"

A wave of relief washes over me, and I nod fervently, even though she can't see me. "Without a doubt! I'll be there."

"Great! Well, I should go before breakfast turns cold. See you soon!"

"Likewise," I respond, ending the call and casting my gaze upon the half-finished book lying on my bed. It had captured my attention the previous evening, but I hadn't yet reached its enthralling middle chapters. Today, however, the promise of new beginnings calls to me, and I tuck the book into my backpack, bidding it farewell for now.

Although it was orientation week at the university, and free time was meant for exploration and mingling with fellow students, I couldn't help but bring along my beloved companion. Who knew what pockets of solitude and quietude awaited me during those so-called "vacant" hours? Besides, with my schedule mysteriously granting me a whopping five-hour gap, despite only having two subjects for the day – Accounting from 9 am to 11 am, and Market Research from 4 pm to 6 pm – I couldn't resist the allure of a captivating story.

The university had thrown a curveball my way, meddling with my carefully crafted expectations. I had assumed that as students, we would have the freedom to select and register for our desired subjects each semester. However, it seemed that the university had other plans, leaving me with an excess of unoccupied time. It was a puzzling predicament, one that I couldn't quite fathom.

Aside from the conundrum of my schedule, there lingered another challenge on the horizon – I had yet to forge new friendships. Trusting people, especially after just meeting them, had become a complex task for me. The wounds of past experiences still haunted my mind, casting shadows of doubt and caution. Yet, amidst the trepidation, I remained dedicated to the pursuit of genuine connections. I yearned to meet individuals who would stand by me, and in turn, I would do the same.

Choosing the right companions became paramount in my quest for friendship. Discernment would be my shield, ensuring that I allowed only those deserving of my trust into my inner circle. It was a delicate balance, navigating the realm of social bonds while safeguarding my vulnerability.

As I trod down the hallway of my bedroom, something tugged at the edges of my consciousness. It wasn't the usual morning routine that felt incomplete, nor was it the prospect of breakfast with my father. There was an unspoken absence, a hollowness that reverberated through the walls. The hallway, once bustling with life, now lay in hushed silence, its echoes dissipating into the air.

It wasn't until I descended the stairs that I recognized what was truly missing. The piano, nestled near the stairwell, stood silent. Its keys, devoid of the melodies that once filled our home, amplified the ache of longing for my mother.

On sunlit days, she would grace those ivories with our favorite tune or an impromptu Taylor Swift rendition, and I would join in, harmonizing with her voice. After the final notes lingered, we would embrace, the warmth of our bond enveloping us.

Oh, how I yearned for those moments to return! Sometimes, I wished I had learned to play the piano so I could carry on the tradition with my own children someday.

Continuing my journey towards the dining room, I spotted Gary standing near the corner of the family table, patiently awaiting my arrival, just as he did every morning.

"Gary, you're here as always," I greeted him with a smile.

"Sir Eric, I must remind you that you have school today," he replied, his tone gentle yet concerned.

"Don't worry, Gary," I assured him while retrieving a printed copy of my schedule from my backpack. "It's still a bit early for us to leave anyway." I handed him a copy of the schedule to ease his worries, knowing that college would bring about a change in our routines. With that, he could adjust the times for dropping me off and picking me up from school – he was like my own personal chauffeur.

Though Gary served as my butler, I never saw him as such. My mother may have employed him to ensure my safety in her absence, but he had become so much more. He had been a constant presence in my life since I could barely remember, and there were times when he transcended the duties of a mere butler. He felt like a second father.

"If that's the case, sir, I'll keep this schedule, memorize it, and remind myself daily that you've entered college," he said, carefully folding his copy and tucking it into his coat for safekeeping.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" I inquired.

"Just a cup of joe, sir," he replied.

"Come, take a seat," I offered, pulling out a chair for him.

"I'm afraid I cannot, sir," he hesitated, his hands gripping the top of the chair.

"Why not?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "I know you don't have any other pressing tasks this morning apart from driving me to school."

"It's nothing personal, but this is the first time you've invited me to join you at the family table," he explained, his hands steadfastly clinging to the chair.

"I understand, but you are family, Gary," I reassured him, placing my hand on top of his. A warm smile played on my lips. "You've done so much for me since my mother's passing, and inviting you to breakfast is the least I can do to show my gratitude."

"If that's the case, sir, I won't argue any further," he replied, mirroring my smile. With my assurance, he took a seat, and I settled into the chair next to him.

As we shared the meal, a revelation dawned upon me – this moment felt different, transcendent. It wasn't the usual afternoon tea by the gazebo, but it carried a weight of significance, a newfound connection forged in the intimacy of the family table. This was something I had yearned for, perhaps unconsciously, all along.

A surge of gratitude coursed through me, for the chance to share this moment and for the enduring pride my mother would have had if she had been present. She had instilled in me the understanding that every human being possessed intrinsic worth, that it was the essence within that truly mattered.

Minutes later, I found myself sprawled on the living room couch, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram on my phone. Images of my former friends and classmates reveling in their first day of college flooded the screen, forcing me to confront the uncertainties that loomed ahead. Perhaps my expectations of the university were misguided, but I convinced myself not to worry.

Then, Stephen Brown's post appeared, and my fears soared to new heights. He, too, was attending the same university as me, FEU Alabang. The mere thought sent shivers down my spine.

Would "Stan the Bully" also be there? Despite having confronted him in the past, the notion of encountering him again, walking the same corridors, filled me with dread. If such a scenario unfolded, my survival through the first day, let alone the entire semester, seemed questionable. Maybe it was time to leave Max, my comfort zone, and seek refuge in a different educational institution.

As if sensing my distress, Gary entered the room, his caring gaze fixed upon me. Approaching from behind, he tenderly massaged my shoulders, aiming to melt away my anxieties.

"Feeling better now, Sir Eric?" His voice trembled with concern.

"I suppose..." Uncertainty tainted my response.

"Care to share what's troubling your morning?" His gentle inquiry urged me to open up.

"Well, you remember that bully from high school, right?" I replied, casting my gaze upon him.

"You mean the lad who fancied himself a punk rock star?" Gary sought confirmation.

"Yes, him. It turns out his friend is enrolled in the same university as me," I explained, placing my phone on the coffee table. "I couldn't help but wonder if he might be there too, given their association..." Crossing my arms, I suddenly felt ill at ease.

Gary's soothing words flowed forth like a reassuring balm. "I believe there's nothing to fret about, sir."

"What do you mean?" I inquired, yearning for clarity.

"You've already stood up to him once, and you can do it again if need be. Furthermore, the chances of him being enrolled in the same university are slim. There are countless institutions out there," he reassured, retrieving my phone and glancing at the post before returning it to me. "And don't forget, Stephen Brown is there. He might lend a hand once more, helping you deal with his bully friend, or who knows, you two might even become friends."

A flicker of hope illuminated my thoughts as I mused over Gary's words. "You might be right," I conceded, reclaiming my phone.

"Now that you're at ease again, are you ready to embark on your day?" Gary inquired, his eyes brimming with genuine care.

"Yes, I believe I am." A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, buoyed by the notion that if the bully resurfaced, I had nothing to fear.

Having confronted him before, I knew I possessed the strength to do so again. Moreover, Stephen's presence provided a sense of reassurance. I owed him a debt of gratitude for aiding me in standing up to the bully, a debt I resolved to acknowledge when the opportunity presented itself.