The professor stood at the front, going through the roll call, calling out names one by one. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement and anticipation as everyone settled in their places.
"Argoncillo, Baidal, Corpuz, Dela Cruz, Sebastian, Zamora... Zamora?!"
My heart sank as I noticed the empty seat with the name 'Zamora' on it. This wasn't the first time I had witnessed the call for Zamora, and yet, no one knew where he was or bothered to question his absence. It was puzzling how he was constantly called, yet he never showed up, and the professor never considered dropping him from the class.
As the professor continued the roll call, the room echoed with a chorus of responses. Each student had their own background, dreams, and aspirations.
The classroom itself was a mix of old and new. The walls, once worn with age, had been freshly painted every other year, giving the room a sense of revitalization. The windows, though vintage, allowed sunlight to stream in, illuminating the space with a warm glow. The desks and chairs were a blend of traditional and modern, providing a comfortable learning environment for the students. This was a prestigious school for the rich, but I got in through my scholarship.
Shaking off the confusion, I tried to distract myself by checking my Instagram account, but the sudden commotion disrupted my focus. Curious eyes darted around, and I knew it was probably some attractive guy that caught their attention. My classmates were always like that, easily swayed by appearances, which I found amusing.
However, my heart skipped a beat when our professor's voice erupted in anger. For a moment, I thought I was the one in trouble for using my phone in class. But no, it was directed at someone else-Mr. Zamora.
I searched for this Zamora, the source of our professor's wrath, and found him sitting right next to me. He looked serious, lost in his thoughts, seemingly unbothered by the professor's reprimand. I wasn't one to stare, but I couldn't help but be captivated by him. Zamora was like a model with his striking features.
His strong jawline gave him an air of confidence, and even without looking directly at him, you could feel his commanding presence. His deep, intense eyes and thick eyebrows added to his allure. There was no denying it-this man was undeniably handsome. His lips held an allure, as if inviting anyone to kiss them. His rugged yet gentle features created an intriguing contrast, and I couldn't help but feel that he outshone me in every way.
The realization that I was staring at him brought a blush to my cheeks, and I quickly averted my gaze. I had no idea who Zamora was or why he seemed to have an air of mystery around him, but one thing was for sure-he had left a profound impression on me. As the class continued, I couldn't help but steal glances at him, intrigued by the enigmatic presence sitting right beside me. As I caught his frown and those eyebrows knitting together, my heart skipped a beat.
"Don't you realize that it's rude to stare at people?" His words echoed, leaving me uncertain if he was really talking to me. I glanced behind me, just to confirm that he was indeed addressing me, and when I realized it was true, I couldn't help but blush intensely.
"You're so full of yourself! I wasn't even looking at you!" I retorted, trying to cover my embarrassment with annoyance. It was so embarrassing!
He smirked, still looking ahead, not bothering to glance back at me. "Really? I've noticed you've been staring at me for quite a while," he said with a knowing grin.
I felt myself getting even more flustered by his confident statement. What was happening to me? It was true that he was handsome; I couldn't deny that. It was my first time seeing him, but I couldn't explain why I was acting so strangely. I'm not usually like this.
"You like me," he asserted with smug confidence, as if he was absolutely certain that I had fallen for him.
"Excuse me!?" I rolled my eyes dramatically at him.
The nerve! As good-looking and captivating as he was, he shouldn't act so arrogant about it. It was such a turn-off!
"Don't worry, I'm used to it," he said with a teasing grin, then he stood up to leave. I didn't even realize the bell had rung, signaling the end of the class. Annoying! I still couldn't get over Zamora's audacity. Acting as if he's some kind of god's gift to women. Ugh! He's so full of himself!
I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him, trying to maintain my focus on what was in front of me. The atmosphere felt awkward, and I could sense his gaze on me, making me feel self-conscious. But I was determined not to let him know that he had any effect on me, not even if I secretly found him attractive... which, to be honest, he was.
My heart raced, and I forced myself to stay indifferent, not giving in to his charm. Deep down, I knew I was only fooling myself. His presence was captivating, and I couldn't ignore the magnetic pull he had on me. It was frustrating to pretend I didn't feel anything, especially when his eyes locked with mine and I felt a strange connection.
I wondered if he knew the effect he had on people, how effortlessly he exuded charm and allure. It was both infuriating and intoxicating at the same time. I wanted to resist, to push him away, but his presence felt like a magnetic force, drawing me in against my will.
As much as I wanted to deny my attraction to him, I couldn't. It was a battle between my mind and my heart, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up this facade.
I only had three classes today, so I could head home early. I still couldn't shake off the memory of Zamora's smug face. It's not that he's full of himself; it's just that... well, okay, he is handsome. Arrogant but handsome. Ugh, I'm getting more annoyed at myself now. When did I ever develop a crush on someone?
Wait, just now? I said to myself.
No, this can't be. I have more important things to worry about than crushing on Zamora. Get a hold of yourself, Diane. You have no time for these kinds of things. Why does it even need to rain out of all the days when I was not that busy with school and my life?
There are more important things to focus on than developing a crush on that arrogant Zamora. As I stepped outside, a gloomy day greeted me with a somber embrace. Thick, dark clouds hung low in the sky, casting an ominous shadow over the world below. The air felt heavy and saturated with moisture, foretelling the impending rain. A soft drizzle began, slowly intensifying into a gentle rainfall that painted the streets with a shimmering sheen.
The sound of raindrops tapping against windows and rooftops echoed through the city, creating a soothing yet melancholic symphony. The once lively streets now appeared deserted, with people seeking refuge from the downpour under awnings or rushing with umbrellas clutched tightly in hand.
The grayness of the sky seemed to seep into everything, dulling the colors of nature and man-made structures alike. The trees swayed listlessly in the breeze, their leaves shimmering with raindrops that clung to them like tears of the heavens.
The buildings loomed tall and imposing, their surfaces slick with moisture. The city's usual vibrancy was replaced by a muted ambiance, as if the rain had washed away the hustle and bustle of daily life, leaving behind a sense of calm and introspection.
Occasionally, a flash of lightning would streak across the sky, illuminating the darkness for a moment, followed by the distant rumble of thunder that added an electrifying sense of drama to the scene. I tried to brush off his handsome face from my mind as I passed by an alley. But then, I froze in my tracks. I recognized that face. My heart gasped as I peeked to confirm.
It was Zamora!
His presence was undeniable, catching my attention the moment I laid eyes on him. Anyone would notice him, even from a distance. His aura demanded to be felt.
A lump formed in my throat when I saw him being kicked by a group of guys. It hurt to witness that. I felt torn between saving him or staying put. My mind and emotions were in turmoil, unsure of what to do. He seemed close to losing consciousness with each kick.
Oh no, it just occurred to me that I didn't even know his first name. I needed to act quickly before they hurt him further. I reached into my bag and grabbed something I always kept with me. I started to whistle.
"Shit! I think someone called the cops!" I heard one of the guys say.
They all scattered, fleeing in different directions. I didn't let the opportunity pass and hurriedly approached Zamora, only to find him barely conscious.
I rushed him to the nearest hospital. I almost cried when paying for the taxi; it was a week's worth of my allowance, but it didn't matter. Thankfully, the taxi driver was kind and helped me carry Z, short for Zamora, because I'm so tiny I couldn't lift him.
As we arrived at the hospital, the nurses immediately attended to him. I remained outside. I needed to call his parents. I didn't have the money for the hospital bill. I didn't want him to suffer, but I had no other choice. Luckily, I had his bag with me.
Searching for his bag was easy. It only contained a pen, a notebook, and a wallet. Nothing more, nothing less.
Men are so peculiar, right? Why do they like carrying bags even if there's nothing inside? I felt uneasy while opening his wallet. It felt too personal, yet I couldn't resist my curiosity. Inside, I found two wallet-sized pictures. One of them was a picture of a young boy and a beautiful woman who looked like she was in her early twenties.
Amidst the chaos of the bustling hospital, I couldn't help but steal another glance at the second photo in Zamora's wallet. This time, it depicted what seemed like a family portrait. However, I couldn't study it too long as a nurse quickly called me over, demanding information about him.
Luckily, I found his identification card in the wallet - Tyrone, a student from Keiser's University, one of the most prestigious and expensive schools around. The realization made my eyes widen; he must have come from a wealthy family. I mentally prepared myself to ask for a refund of the money I spent on the taxi ride.
With his guardian's name, Alfredo Zamora, in hand, I asked the nurse if I could use the telephone, and she granted my request. It took a few rings before a woman answered on the other end, revealing that she was the family's housemaid. As soon as I mentioned Tyrone's name and the hospital, she panicked and promised to inform his guardian.
After the call, I returned to the ward where Tyrone lay, battered and unconscious. His injuries were evident, and I couldn't help but wonder what he could have done to deserve such a brutal beating. The doctor assured me it wasn't anything severe but seeing him in this state still troubled me.
Soon, a commotion outside the ward caught my attention, and moments later, a group of sophisticated and well-dressed individuals entered. Among them was an elderly man in a wheelchair, seemingly in his mid-60s, whose face was filled with love and concern as he gazed at Tyrone.
The men accompanying him appeared angry, while the women remained serene, seemingly indifferent to the situation. The scene intrigued me, but it was the old man's expression that struck a chord in my heart. He seemed to be in pain, as if carrying a burden too heavy to bear. The contrast between the emotions in the room intrigued me, leaving me yearning to know more about the story behind Tyrone and the people surrounding him.
As I stood there, my throat tightened with uncertainty. Was calling his guardian the right decision, or did I make a mistake? Truth be told, their presence sent shivers down my spine.
There was an eerie aura about them that made me uneasy. The room felt heavy with tension, and I couldn't help but second-guess myself. Perhaps I should have handled things differently, but it was too late now. The weight of my actions bore down on me, and I couldn't shake off the unease creeping up my spine.
The group's demeanor was intimidating, and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of people they were. Were they genuinely concerned for Tyrone, or was there something more beneath the surface? Their expressions seemed to hide secrets and emotions I couldn't decipher, leaving me on edge.
I took a deep breath, trying to quell the fear gnawing at me. But their presence, along with the mystery surrounding them, only intensified my anxiety. The room felt suffocating, as if the air itself held an unspoken tension.
Yet, amidst the unease, my heart couldn't ignore the sight of the elderly man in the wheelchair. His eyes held a depth of emotion that tugged at my heartstrings. I couldn't help but wonder about his relationship with Tyrone - the love, the concern, and the pain he carried in his gaze. With each passing moment, my thoughts spiraled in confusion. Did I just walk into something beyond my understanding? Or was there more to Tyrone's story than what met the eye?
Questions swirled in my mind, and the room seemed to close in on me. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of uncertainty. Whatever the truth may be, I knew I had to stay strong and brave this encounter. I couldn't let my fear dictate my actions; after all, I was just trying to help a fellow human being in need. A mixture of apprehension and curiosity surged within me. I knew I had to face whatever lay ahead, for I had already crossed the threshold into Tyrone's world, a world filled with enigmatic individuals and untold emotions.