Chapter 62: Seeds of April

The first week of April rolled in with an easy kind of warmth. Mornings were no longer blanketed by the chill of the early year, but instead kissed with golden light that hinted at the nearing summer. In the heart of their small agricultural town, the scent of soil and newly planted rice fields lingered in the air, and Carmela found it comforting. Familiar.

She was now waking up at 5 a.m. almost instinctively. The soft crowing of roosters, the clang of pots in the kitchen, and the laughter of neighbors greeting the day reminded her that while the world was big and full of possibilities, this quiet slice of the world was home.

And home, she realized, was where her roots had been growing deeper all along.

After the success of their pilot run with the rural school district, Carmela found herself being pulled in different directions. Her inbox was full of messages from barangay officials, volunteer teachers, and even local business owners curious about KATALISTA. She had scheduled a weekend orientation with a nearby barangay and was finalizing the terms for a potential partnership with a microfinance cooperative who wanted to support youth-led education projects.

It was thrilling—and exhausting.

To stay grounded, Carmela kept her early morning routine sacred. She would light a citronella candle, open her notebook, and plan. Not just her day, but her goals for the week, her check-ins with the team, her notes from her stocks and crypto portfolio. She'd grown careful and thoughtful with her investments, making sure they aligned with her long-term goals. She wasn't chasing trends. She was cultivating stability.

Even her relationship with Raziel had grown into something steady. He'd become her partner in the truest sense of the word. They didn't just go on walks or share snacks under the mango tree anymore—they now had weekly planning sessions for their respective projects.

Raziel's co-op idea had turned into a full business plan. He had filed paperwork with DTI for a digital agency focused on training and hiring local talent in rural areas. Carmela had helped design the platform's onboarding module. It wasn't flashy, but it was effective—and real.

"You know what I realized?" he told her one evening as they walked by the riverbank, the orange sun dipping into the water.

"What?"

"That I used to think the only way to succeed was to get out of here. Move to Manila. Or abroad. But maybe we've had it backward. Maybe success is building something *here* that can reach the world."

Carmela nodded. "It's not about leaving behind where you came from. It's about bringing it with you wherever you go."

---

On the second Sunday of the month, her eldest brother came home from the school where he taught, bringing stories of senior high students struggling with online submissions and limited resources.

"Their families can't afford more mobile data," he said, sitting on the bamboo bench outside while sipping iced coffee. "They're smart, Carmela. But we lose so many because they think they're falling behind."

It stuck with her. That night, she added another goal to her notebook: *Launch free offline downloadable lessons by April.*

When she told Raziel, he immediately agreed to help with the compression scripts.

"You're crazy," he grinned.

"I know," she said. "But good-crazy, right?"

"The best kind."

---

Amid everything, Carmela had a call with her sister in Manila. It was always refreshing. Her sister didn't always understand the tech talk, but she asked the right questions.

"Are you happy, Carmela?" she asked.

"I'm fulfilled," she replied after a pause. "That counts for a lot."

Her sister chuckled. "Sounds like someone's on her way to becoming a boss."

Carmela laughed too, but the words stayed with her.

Because yes—this version of herself *was* becoming a boss.

Not the corporate kind in heels and tight blazers. But the kind who showed up every day, quietly, consistently, and did the work. The kind who built a future one decision at a time. Who lifted others as she climbed.

She was no longer the girl who crumbled from expectations or sought validation from fleeting affection. That Carmela was gone.

This Carmela had agency.

---

Toward the end of the month, she sat down with her mother for a quiet dinner. The house was bathed in a soft glow from the single bulb above the table, and outside, the hum of crickets serenaded the warm night.

Her mom reached over and placed a hand on hers. "You've changed, anak. You've always been loving. But now… you're calm. Like someone who found her path."

Carmela swallowed the lump in her throat. "I think I have."

They ate in silence for a while.

"I know we don't talk about money much," her mother said carefully. "But I see you managing your time, budgeting, taking on projects. Are you okay?"

Carmela smiled. "Yes, Ma. I'm more than okay. I'm just making sure we'll always have choices. Whatever happens in the world."

Her mom nodded, perhaps not knowing the full extent of her daughter's wealth, but trusting her nonetheless.

And that was enough.

---

At the end of April, Carmela prepared a small thank-you gathering for her team. Nothing big—just pancit, turon, and cold gulaman under the mango tree. She had printed hand-written notes for each of them.

"You believed in something that didn't even exist yet," she told them. "Now look at what we've built."

As twilight settled, Raziel brought out his guitar and started playing soft folk tunes. One by one, people joined in, clapping, humming, laughing.

Carmela sat at the edge of it all, watching.

And she realized something.

This—this quiet revolution she was leading, this new life she had been gifted—was no longer about rewriting the past.

It was about choosing the future.

Every single day.