When Rain Comes

The future seemed too vague to even think about. It left a heaviness that felt too much for my brain to process. I could imagine myself drifting on a boat along the current, the flow so strong it felt as though there was already a predetermined fate we could never control.

Passing my difficult course subjects without failing would take prayers. Passing the battery exam would take miracles.

I hadn't had the chance to review for the battery exam. I said I would, but I didn't. It felt like I had wasted my vacation lying in bed, doing nothing but counting the cars passing the crossroads of España and Lacson.

It was a gray time for me.

I had been rejected by my parents for who I was. Then I found out that the sibling I trusted most had left me in the ditch by telling my parents everything I did behind their backs.

After that, I just tried to live.

There were so many temptations to escape from everything that I dulled my pain by wasting hours staring at nowhere. The pressure from my would-be ex became heavy, too. I carried the guilt of never being the perfect daughter my parents wanted, the guilt of knowing I never quite loved her the way she deserved while also knowing that our relationship had to end, the pain of losing my sister, and the fear of becoming an even greater failure than I already believed myself to be.

I wanted to prove myself through my studies, but the darkness had clouded my vision.

Then I received the news that my pet cat, Onyx, had died all alone, with no one by his side.

It was all too heavy—the grief, the broken trust, the expectations, and everything I had never been able to say.

The battery exam came.

I was not prepared at all.

I woke up early and decided to walk to school to calm my mind and breathe some fresh air. Instead, all I inhaled was the smoke coming from jeepney exhaust.

The exam ended, and I already knew it would take a miracle for me to pass.

Then the rain came.

It was so heavy that I felt as though it was trying to resonate with what I was feeling.

I arrived back at the condominium with a resigned spirit, already preparing myself to choose among the plans and options I had made in case I didn't pass.

Unexpectedly, the second and final day of the exam came.

I woke up feeling light.

I went through my usual morning rituals before walking through that door again. Maybe it was acceptance that made everything feel easier.

And once again, I walked outside to breathe the fresh air left behind by the rain.

It was my favorite scent.

I even Googled what it was called.

Petrichor.

The scent after the rain made me forget, for a moment, how polluted the city was.

Something was different that day.

I could feel it.

The exam was easy. I finished without making my brain ache from forcing myself to remember everything I had studied—or hadn't studied.

For the first time in a while, it became okay to have hope, even if it was only a little.

There was even a rainbow along the way as I went home.