"Come on, Casey, get in the car!" Zarinna heard her uncle call from the driver's seat.

"We're going to be late, Manang!" Elsa added.

The young lady came running from the door as soon as she heard her father's voice, hurriedly slipping her ID lanyard around her neck.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Casey panted. "I forgot to put some of my things inside my bag." She jumped into the van and pulled the door shut. "Good morning, Manang 'Rinna!" she chimed to her cousin.

"Good morning, dear," Zarinna replied with a gentle smile, looking appreciatively at the fair young girl behind her.

"So, are you ladies ready for your first day?" Dennis asked, shifting slightly as the engine rumbled to life. At the question, Zarinna felt her heart begin to quicken.

"Yeah!" Casey exclaimed. "I'm excited to see who my classmates will be."

"I just hope Sir Greg opens the Arts Club this year," Elsa murmured, head lowered. "I really want to try it."

Zarinna noticed her uncle nodding as he listened to his daughters, a soft smile forming on his lips as the vehicle moved forward. She herself remained quiet—choosing not to speak of the nervousness pressing against her chest.

Oh God, be with me today... she prayed, briefly closing her eyes, waiting for peace to rise within her.

The ride lasted about fifteen minutes. When they drew near the school grounds, the sight of students in matching uniforms told her they had arrived.

"Come on, ladies, off you go," Dennis encouraged, smiling as Casey and Elsa slid the van door open and stepped down. He then looked toward Zarinna.

"Go on, kaanakan. You will do great today." He assured, his voice warm.

"Iyaman, Uncle..." she breathed in Applai, her expression soft with gratitude. She stepped out of the van.

"Bye, Daddy!" the two girls chorused, waving as the van drove away.

Zarinna turned toward the school gate—a large green-painted steel entrance where children passed in steady waves, some glancing curiously at her. They must be wondering why there's someone new, she thought.

"Let's go, Manang?" Casey asked. Zarinna nodded and walked with them through the gate, observing the surroundings. Golden shrubs lined the pathway, and gumamela blossoms grew freely along the grass.

"We'll go look for our classrooms now, Manang," Casey said. "We'll see you later."

"All right, dearies. I'll see you later. Take care." She watched them disappear into the crowd and lifted her gaze upward.

Oh Lord, I entrust this day to You. May Your will be done.

"Good morning!"

The voice broke through her wandering thoughts. Zarinna turned, her pulse giving a tiny jolt. A man—somewhere in his fifties, perhaps—was walking toward her with an easy, familiar kind of warmth.

"You must be Ms. Bunhiyan, am I correct?" he asked, extending his hand.

"Y-yes, Sir. That's me." Her voice came out softer than she intended.

"I'm Mr. Sepnayen, head of the Social Studies Department. We spoke on the phone two weeks ago. Welcome."

"Oh! Good morning, Sir. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she replied, grasping his hand. His handshake was firm, grounding.

"And I am honored to meet you as well." His eyes held a kind steadiness. "How are you adjusting so far?"

She inhaled, feeling the cool mountain air settle in her lungs. "It's all very new," she admitted, "but I believe I can adapt, Sir."

"That's good. I hope you enjoy your first teaching experience here."

"I believe I will, Sir." She smiled once again, "Thank you."

They walked side by side as he spoke about the school—its history, its culture, its little quirks that one could only learn by living within its rhythm. The mountain breeze slipped through the corridor windows, brushing lightly against her sleeve. With each step, her nerves began to loosen.

"This is the Social Studies faculty office," he said, stopping beside a green-painted door, its color worn just slightly around the edges—evidence of many teachers before her. She paused, letting herself breathe, then followed him in.

Inside, quiet murmurs and the faint scent of old paper settled around her. A man behind the first row of desks glanced up.

"Good morning, Sir Luke," Mr. Sepnayen greeted him.

"Good morning, Sir," Luke replied "So, she must be Ms. Bunhiyan?"

"Yes," the head confirmed. "Come, Ma'am."

Luke stood and offered his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am Bunhiyan."

Zarinna found herself looking down for a second before taking his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Sir."

"Sir Luke will be one of your co-teachers," Mr. Sepnayen explained. "Your desk will be here." He pointed to a simple wooden table beside the window. Morning light fell on it, making the surface look clean and welcoming.

"And don't forget," Mr. Sepnayen added on his way out, "we'll introduce you during the flag ceremony."

"O-okay, Sir," she said, forcing a small nod.

"So, you're from Baguio City?" Luke asked. He leaned lightly against a shelf, relaxed.

"Yes, Sir Luke."

"How are you finding Mountain Province so far?"

"It's peaceful," she said honestly. "Quieter than the city."

Before he could respond, a lively voice cut in.

"Good morning, people!"

A cheerful, round-faced woman entered, carrying an energy that filled the room.

"Oh! You're the new teacher?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm Zarinna Bunhiyan."

"Welcome! I'm Imelda Ullalim—just call me Mel," she said with a friendly smile.

"Thank you, Ma'am Mel. Nice to meet you."

Then the sound of heels approached—steady, measured. A tall woman with neatly styled curls walked in.

"Good morning," she greeted. "You must be Ms. Zarinna Bunhiyan. I'm Mylene Rafael. It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, Ma'am Rafael."

Time passed quickly after that—forms to sign, schedules to look over, brief conversations that blurred together. Soon, she was standing on the school stage for the flag ceremony.

The courtyard was full of students. When she stepped up to the microphone, her chest tightened. She felt very visible, very new.

But when she looked at the students—some curious, some shy, some uninterested—she felt something familiar. A quiet intention.

I am here to help. I can do this.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning, Ma'am!" hundreds of voices responded at once. The sound steadied her.

"I'm honored to be part of this school. Thank you for the warm welcome. I look forward to working with you all."

Applause followed—simple, polite, reassuring.

And for the first time since arriving, she felt herself settle.

She was exactly where she needed to be.

BY THE END of the day, she felt drained, slumping into her chair under the soft light of sunset filtering through the windows. The once-bustling room was now still.

She gathered her things and stepped outside. The cool breeze brushed her cheek. From her vantage on the third floor, she could see the entire school—simple, modest, but somehow beautiful.

Thank You, Jesus... finally... I will be teaching.

"Hi there."

She turned. A petite woman smiled warmly.

"My name is Gina Gacusan, from the Mathematics Department," she introduced. "Your name is Zarinna Bunhiyan, right?"

"Yes! Nice to meet you, Ma'am Gina."

They walked together toward the gate, chatting easily.

"So why did you choose to work here?" Gina asked gently.

"All schools in the city required at least four years of experience, plus a masters degree. Both of which I don't have, as of the moment." Zarinna released a sheepish laugh.

"I see." Gina nodded. "Well, I believe God has a reason for bringing you here."

Zarinna smiled, nodding. She was right. God had to bring her as far away as possible. Away from the city. Away from him. Her gaze lifted. "Amen to that,"

"You're a believer?" Gina stopped mid-step, turning to her.

Zarinna's smile softened. "Yes."

"I thought so," Gina said with a light laugh. "You have that... peaceful look about you."

Zarinna laughed softly. "Really?"

Gina nodded with a smile. "Which church do you attend?"

The question landed deeper than expected. Zarinna hesitated, her steps slowing. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts, to find words that would be truthful enough without opening everything else.

"I—I'm not attending a church right now," she said, her voice low. "I just arrived last week, so... I don't really know any churches here yet."

She let out a small, uneven breath. It was true. Not the whole truth—but what could she say? How could she explain the rest? How could she tell someone, on her first day here, that she stopped going because she was the reason a minister had stumbled?

The memory surfaced, sharp and unwelcome. She grimaced, then caught herself, forcing her expression to smooth.

"I understand." Gina nodded thoughtfully. "Well, in that case, would you like to visit our church sometime?"