Chapter 5: The Secret Life of a Ghostwriter

Yuna's POV

Dinner at Aunt Rosa's house felt like a marathon, a test of endurance, and possibly a punishment from the universe.

I had barely survived the interrogation from my aunt about school ("Did you make friends?" "You better not be failing anything already." "Did you eat enough at lunch? Do I need to send you with extra rice?")

The enthusiastic chatter from my cousin Lily (who somehow never ran out of words), and Uncle Ramon's painfully long story about a tricycle driver who tried to race his ancient van earlier.

By the time I finally escaped back to Lily's room, I felt like I had aged ten years.

I collapsed face-first onto the bed, groaning. "I'm never eating again."

Lily flopped beside me, poking my arm. "You say that now, but tomorrow Mom's making sinigang."

Damn it. She was right.

Just as I was about to let myself relax for five seconds, my phone vibrated violently on the nightstand. Then again. And again.

Something was wrong. Nobody ever texted me this much.

I sat up and grabbed my phone, unlocking it to a flood of messages from my manager—the middleman who handled my secret ghostwriting gig.

URGENT. ARE YOU AWAKE.YUNA. ANSWER ME.YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS.BIG CLIENT. HUGE.THEY NEED A SONG.

I blinked. Then blinked again.

"What the—"

Before I could process, a call came through.

I answered in a panic. "What?! What's happening? Who died?"

"Yuna, LISTEN." My manager's voice was a mix of excitement and pure chaos.

"You have a job. A huge one. A big celebrity needs a song ASAP. As in, it's already late. They're desperate. This is massive. This could put you on the map—"

"I can't be on the map! I'm a ghostwriter, remember?"

"Fine, fine, whatever, but you need to do this."

Lily, who had been quietly watching, suddenly perked up. "What's happening?"

I pressed the phone against my ear and turned away. "Nothing. School stuff."

"Liar. You hate school stuff."

Ignoring her, I whispered into the phone. "Okay, first of all, who is it?"

My manager inhaled dramatically before dropping the name.

My soul left my body.

"ARE YOU JOKING?!" I shrieked, shooting up so fast I nearly fell off the bed.

Lily gasped. "What?! What happened?! Is there a ghost?!"

I turned back to my phone, my brain spiraling into panic mode. "How am I supposed to write a song in, like, no time at all?! I haven't even written anything in a month! I've been too busy with—"

I gestured vaguely around the room. "—life! And moving! And NOT being a songwriter!"

"Not my problem, genius. You're the songwriter. Figure it out."

I could hear the smugness through the phone, which only made me want to launch it across the room.

"This is a disaster," I muttered.

"It's an opportunity," my manager corrected.

It was both.

And now I had to figure out how to secretly write a song for a celebrity while stuck in a small town, sharing a room with my nosy cousin, and absolutely not letting my family find out.

The next morning, I woke up to Lily shaking me like a maraca.

"Yuna, wake up! You're going to be late!"

I mumbled into my pillow, "Good."

Maybe if I stayed still enough, she'd think I was dead and leave me alone.

Lily did not. "Come on! Mom's already yelling about breakfast!"

I groaned. Last night had been a disaster. After my manager dropped that bomb on me, I spent hours staring at my notes, willing my brain to come up with lyrics.

Nothing. My usual songwriting magic? Gone.

And now, instead of spending the day locked in my room trying to revive my lost talent, I had to go to school.

Lily finally yanked my blanket off, exposing me to the freezing morning air. I shrieked like a wounded animal and shot up.

"I'M UP, OKAY?!"

She grinned. "Knew that would work."

By the time I dragged myself to school, I was already plotting my escape.

First break. I'd sneak out, find an empty classroom, and work on the song. Nobody would notice. Nobody would care. Perfect plan.

Except the moment I stepped into the hallway, I spotted Erika.

Erika. My babysitter turned part-time menace, full-time know-it-all. She was technically a year older than me, but somehow, she acted like she was responsible for my survival.

I ducked. I spun. I dived behind a trash can.

She still saw me.

"Yuna."

I froze.

She walked over, crossing her arms. "Why are you hiding behind the garbage?"

I tried to think of something smart. Something clever.

"Smells nice," I said.

Erika sighed like she regretted ever meeting me. "You're avoiding me."

"I don't even know what avoidance means."

She grabbed my arm and yanked me up. "Are you in trouble? What did you do? Why do you look suspicious?"

"I always look like this."

"Exactly. Suspicious."

I sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'm busy, okay? I have things to do."

"Like what?"

"Important things. Secret things. Mysterious things."

She squinted at me. "You're failing math, aren't you?"

I gasped. "How dare you?"

"So you are failing math."

"That's not the point!" I huffed, shaking her off. "I gotta go. Big plans. Huge."

"Yuna—"

"Bye, Erika!"

I power-walked away before she could interrogate me further.

Break time. Showtime.

I grabbed my notebook and hurried toward the farthest, emptiest part of the school. If I could just sit in peace for twenty minutes—

"Yuna!"

I turned.

A teacher stood there, smiling in a way that told me I was about to suffer. "Perfect timing! We need help carrying books to the library!"

I looked behind me. Maybe she was talking to someone else. Maybe there was another Yuna.

Nope.

Just me.

And a mountain of books.

I forced a smile. "Oh! I would love to, but unfortunately, I—"

"Great! Come on, it's just a few stacks."

A few stacks was a lie.

Thirty minutes later, I was drowning under towers of books, my arms shaking, my soul leaving my body.

I should've run. I should've jumped out a window.

The universe hated me.

Erika walked past and smirked. "World-changing plans, huh?"

I glared at her.

This song was never getting written.

The moment the bell rang, I was already halfway out the door.

No distractions this time. No teachers. No books. No babysitter. Just me, my phone, and the desperate attempt to prove I still had songwriting skills.

I power-walked down the hallway like a woman on a mission, clutching my bag like it contained national secrets.

"Where are you going?"

I nearly screamed.

Turning my head slowly, I found my seatmate, Marco, staring at me with deep suspicion. Marco, who genuinely believed that our history teacher was a time traveler. Marco, who had the observational skills of a detective and the common sense of a goldfish.

"Nowhere," I lied, quickening my pace.

He narrowed his eyes. "You're running away."

"What? No, I'm—"

"You are." His expression turned dramatic.

"Oh my god. You're dropping out. I knew this day would come."

I groaned. "I am NOT dropping out!"

But he wasn't listening. Instead, he gasped and clutched his chest like I had personally wounded him.

"After everything we've been through? All the tests we cheated on together? All the group projects where you did everything and I took credit?"

"I have only been here for a month what do you mean?!," I muttered.

But Marco was already chasing me down the hall, shouting, "YUNA, WAIT! DON'T THROW YOUR LIFE AWAY!"

Heads turned. People stared.

I wanted to disappear.

"SHUT UP!" I hissed, picking up my pace. "I just need a QUIET PLACE, OKAY?"

"Oh." He blinked. "Like, to cry?"

I gave up.

Somehow, I managed to shake off Marco by pretending I needed to use the restroom.

Finally.

I found an empty stairwell, sat down, and pulled out my phone.

1% battery.

Of course.

The universe had a personal vendetta against me.

I tapped on my notes app, praying my phone wouldn't die before I could jot something down. Just one lyric. One line. Anything.

The screen flickered.

"No, no, no—"

And then it went black.

I stared at it in horror.

This was it. My tragic origin story. Yuna, the girl who had one chance at greatness but was defeated by low battery and an idiot seatmate.

I buried my face in my hands.

I was so doomed.

By some miracle (relentless begging and making promises I would probably regret later), I managed to borrow a charger from a senior in the library.

The catch? I had to sit through his entire conspiracy theory about how the school was secretly a front for a government experiment on teenage stress levels.

"I swear, Yuna, the vending machines are watching us," he whispered, leaning in like we were discussing classified information.

"Have you noticed how they always refuse to take your last coin when you're desperate?"

I stared at him, trying to decide if he was joking. He wasn't.

"Right. That's definitely what's happening," I muttered, glancing at my phone. Seven percent battery. Good enough.

"Hey, thanks for the charger—"

"But listen," he interrupted, gripping my wrist like he was about to reveal the meaning of life.

"If I disappear next week, you know why."

"Cool, gotta go!"

I yanked my hand away, grabbed my phone, and bolted before he could drag me deeper into whatever sci-fi thriller he thought we were living in.

After an entire night of suffering, I somehow managed to finish the song. It wasn't my best work, but at this point, the celebrity would have to take what they could get.

I was running on sheer willpower and instant coffee, and my brain had stopped functioning somewhere around midnight.

Lily, of course, had already been asleep since ten.

I glared at her from my desk, where I was drowning in crumpled lyric drafts and poor life choices. She was curled up under her blankets, breathing peacefully like a person with zero responsibilities.

Meanwhile, I was trying to fight for my life against a deadline I wasn't even supposed to have.

At exactly two fifty-seven in the morning, I attached the file, hit send, and collapsed onto my bed with a sigh of pure exhaustion.

I did it. I survived. I—

Oh no.

Homework.

My stomach dropped. I slowly sat up, staring at my desk where my untouched assignment sat, buried under a pile of empty snack wrappers.

I had two options

Stay up another hour and try to finish it. Or. Accept my fate and suffer the consequences.

I glanced at Lily, who was still asleep, completely unaware of the academic crisis happening just a few feet away.

I made my decision in exactly three seconds.

I collapsed back onto my pillow and went to sleep.

The next morning, I dragged myself to class looking like I had barely survived a natural disaster. My uniform was wrinkled, my hair was doing something gravity-defying, and my brain was operating at five percent efficiency.

I sat down at my desk and rested my head on my arms, waiting for the day to end even though it hadn't even started.

"Yuna," the teacher called. "Your assignment?"

I blinked. "My what?"

"The homework. That was due today."

From beside me, Marco leaned in and whispered, "The one you totally didn't do because you were running away yesterday?"

I kicked him under the desk without looking up.

The teacher sighed, already used to my existence. "Yuna, do you have it or not?"

I thought about lying. I really did. But my brain was so fried from last night that all I could say was

"Miss, I am going through something."

The room fell silent.

The teacher rubbed her temples, looking like she aged five years in real time. "Of course you are."

Marco snorted, barely holding back his laughter.

And Erika face palming so hard.

I was so, so doomed.

To be continued.