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‎"Ayaw kong sumablay," the girl beside him said. ‎ ‎At first, he wasn’t sure what the girl meant. Not until a glimpse of the Facebook post on the girl's phone gave him a hint. As the kalesa slowed to a brief halt, he pulled out his own phone to clear the buzzing thoughts in his head and check if what he saw was true. ‎ ‎Then he froze. ‎ ‎All the sleepless nights, the mock exams, the pressure—it all came crashing in. ‎ ‎The post from UPCAT - U.P. System stared back at him: ‎ ‎“UPCAT 2026 applicants who have successfully submitted their online application and who have been confirmed by their school may already download the test permit from the application portal.” ‎ ‎So it was real. ‎The permits were out. ‎And yet… he didn’t feel ready. ‎ ‎Not even close. ‎ ‎"Kaya ko 'to. Magiging iskolar din ako," he whispered, releasing a breath that trembled between doubt and hope. ‎ ‎But no matter how tightly he held on to that dream, he knew the odds weren’t in his favor. Not because he lacked the will, but because preparing felt like drowning. ‎Even when he tried. ‎Even when he gave it his all. ‎ ‎For every failed mock test, ‎For every lesson that never made sense no matter how many times he reread it, ‎And for every breakdown that came without warning, his hope thinned like paper in the rain. ‎ ‎And slowly, the fire in him flickered. ‎Still burning. ‎But fading. ‎ ‎His thoughts were running in circles until the coachman’s voice pulled him back to the present. ‎ ‎"Balong, hindi ka pa ba bababa? Kanina pa tayo rito sa tapat ng paaralan niyo," the old man said, his tone laced with quiet concern. "Kung ano man 'yang iniisip mo, huwag mong hayaang tumigil diyan ang mundo mo." ‎ ‎The boy blinked, almost surprised by the world outside his thoughts. ‎ ‎"Thank you, 'lo. Pasensya na ho kayo," he replied, still carrying the weight of his worries but now with a spark of courage burning quietly in his chest. ‎ ‎As he settled into the wooden chair in his classroom, his mind drifted back to the coachman’s words. ‎ ‎That brief moment—strangely sad, yet unexpectedly warm—lingered like a quiet echo in his heart. ‎ ‎For a time, he truly believed that stepping into the halls of the University of the Philippines was a dream too distant to reach. If the old man hadn’t reminded him of his why, he might’ve surrendered... Even before answering the first question of the test. ‎ ‎Later that evening, he collapsed onto his bed. ‎Exhausted. ‎Pressured. ‎Quietly overwhelmed. ‎ ‎The review materials stared at him from across the room. He still had to relearn the lessons he once thought he understood. But with deadlines and schoolwork piling up, it felt like time was slipping through his fingers faster than he could catch it. ‎ With his computer glowing and a half-sipped cup of coffee beside him, he once again braced for battle—another night, another quest to learn, to prepare, to prove. Hours blurred. He clicked through another mock test. 28 out of 50. A small victory. An inch forward. He smiled. Not until he scrolled down. Someone else had scored a perfect fifty. His heart sank. He had been preparing for what felt like forever, but the results never matched the effort. Every bubble he shaded, every choice he made, came with the weight of doubt. Of not enough. He often wondered: How do others make it look so easy? Why does it seem like he’s always gasping for air while others swim freely? He was on the brink of tears when a gentle knock echoed through his room. “‘Nak, hindi ka pa ba kakain? Gabing-gabi na, baka nagugutom ka na,” his mother called from behind the door—soft, tired, but filled with care. “Papunta na po, Ma. May tinatapos lang,” he replied, quickly brushing away the tears that betrayed him. And for a brief moment, though still tired, he felt a little less alone. He paused, the soft glow of his screen fading into the silence of his thoughts. Then he remembered why he signed up for the challenge of UPCAT in the first place. His mother. The woman who had no idea her son was quietly chasing a dream far beyond the reaches of their small world. The woman who stood tall, even after the pillar of their family had crumbled. The woman he loved more than words could ever hold. Before heading downstairs, he turned to the calendar pinned to his wall. "Isang linggo na lang," he whispered, a flicker of hopelessness tucked in his breath. But almost immediately, as if catching himself mid-fall— "Isang linggo pa," he echoed, this time with a glimmer of belief like a candle re-lit in a storm. He knew the path wouldn't be easy. But with courage etched in his heart, and the fire of purpose burning quietly within him, UP was no longer a distant star—but a sunrise slowly coming into view.