Out of Place
Maiven stirred awake at the faint sound of a door clicking shut. Her brows furrowed as she slowly opened her eyes, adjusting to the dim light in her condo. She blinked a few times, feeling the emptiness beside her before she even turned her head to confirm it.
Avara was gone.
She slowly sat up, rubbing her face as a heavy sigh escaped her lips. She already knew the answer, but she still reached for her phone, checking her notifications. No message. No missed calls. No note left on the bedside table. Nothing.
A humorless chuckle left her throat as she leaned back against the headboard. Of course. Of course, she left without saying anything.
Because Avara still chose him.
Maiven’s hands curled into fists against the sheets, her nails digging into her palms. Why does it still hurt? Why does it still feel like she’s ripping my chest open every time she leaves?
She should be used to this by now. The fleeting moments, the temporary warmth, the illusion that maybe, just maybe, Avara was staying for good. And yet, every time, she was reminded that Avara had never truly been hers to begin with.
She closed her eyes and exhaled sharply, trying to will away the ache in her chest.
This has to stop. This can’t go on forever.
But the worst part was no matter how many times she told herself to walk away, she knew she wouldn’t. Because every time Avara called, every time Avara reached out, she would still come running. She would still drop everything, just to be there.
Because it was Avara.
And no matter how much Maiven wanted to move on, to break free from this cycle, she couldn’t. She was trapped in a loop of her own making, one where she willingly let herself get hurt over and over again.
She sighed again, raking a hand through her hair before throwing the blankets off her. Sleep was impossible now. The disappointment, the frustration, the stupid hope that had bloomed in her chest last night, it was all suffocating her. She needed to get out.
Without thinking twice, she grabbed her running shoes, slipped into a hoodie, and left her condo. The cold morning air greeted her the moment she stepped outside, but she barely felt it.
She started running.
At first, it was slow, just a light jog to warm up. But the more she thought about Avara, about the empty space beside her this morning, about the way she still hoped despite knowing better, her pace quickened. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her breaths came faster, sharper. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional early risers, but Maiven barely noticed them.
She just ran.
Ran away from the emotions threatening to drown her. Ran from the disappointment clawing at her chest. Ran from the truth she refused to admit. That no matter how much she loved Avara, she would always come second.
Maiven returned to her condo after the exhausting run, her body warm from exertion, but her mind was still clouded. The run didn’t clear her head as much as she hoped. She was still frustrated. Still disappointed. Still tired.
She threw her hoodie onto the couch and walked straight to the kitchen, moving on autopilot. It was game day. She needed fuel.
Without much thought, she prepared her usual breakfast which is a bowl of oatmeal topped with banana slices, a boiled egg on the side, and a glass of black coffee. Simple, nutritious, and enough to keep her energy steady until lunch.
Sitting by the counter, she ate in silence. The apartment felt too quiet. She used to appreciate that, but today, it only reminded her of how empty it was.
Maiven sighed, finishing her meal before rinsing her dishes. She needed to snap out of it. Focus on the game, Lee. That’s what matters today.
She walked to the bathroom, stripping off her clothes before stepping into the shower. The hot water cascaded down her body, easing some of the tension in her muscles but not the weight in her chest. She leaned her head against the tiled wall, closing her eyes for a moment.
This game is important. This is bigger than you. Get it together.
With renewed determination, she finished her shower, towel-dried her hair, and changed into a comfortable hoodie and joggers. She then grabbed her gym bag, stuffing her jersey, knee pads, extra towels, and water bottles inside. Everything she needed. With one final look in the mirror, she inhaled deeply before heading out.
The drive to the gym was uneventful, her playlist playing softly in the background as she tried to settle her thoughts. When she pulled up to the parking lot, she saw Jorge standing near the entrance, talking to someone.
As she stepped out of her car, Jorge noticed her and waved.
“Uy, Maiven!” he called, walking towards her. “Sakto dating mo.”
Beside him was a girl—tall, chinita, and unfamiliar to Maiven. She had her hair tied in a neat ponytail, her sharp features giving her a confident presence. “This is Spencer,” Jorge introduced. “She's the exchange student from the Fine Arts department.”
Spencer gave a small nod and a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Maiven.”
Maiven, still feeling off from the morning, simply nodded back. “Yeah, you too.”
Jorge frowned slightly at her curt response, but before she could say anything, Spencer checked her watch. “Anyway, I gotta go. Catch you later, Jorge. Good luck on your game!”
With that, Spencer walked away, leaving Jorge and Maiven heading toward the gym together.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Jorge nudged Maiven’s arm. “Ano na naman problema mo?”
“Huh?” Maiven blinked.
“You look like you wanna punch someone,” Jorge pointed out. “What happened?”
Maiven sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’m fine.”
Jorge narrowed his eyes. “Uh-huh. Alam mo, hindi ako bobo. Gusto mo pa talaga akong paniwalain na fine ka?”
Maiven just exhaled through her nose. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not now.
Jorge groaned, shaking his head. “Damn it, Maiv. Big game to, ha. Baka mamaya wala ka sa wisyo.”
“I know,” Maiven muttered. “I won’t mess up.”
Jorge gave her a skeptical look but dropped the subject for now.
As they approached the bleachers where their team was seated, Gali and Cali immediately spotted them.
“O, anong problema nito?” Cali quipped, glancing at Maiven.
“Bad trip,” Jorge answered for her. “Pero di niya sinasabi kung bakit.”
Gali smirked. “Dapat siguro bumili tayo ng bagong mood booster. Yung tipong ‘on switch’ sa energy niya.”
“Baka naman low batt lang?” Cali teased. “Maiv, gusto mo ba ng charger?”
Maiven rolled her eyes but said nothing, dropping her bag onto the bleacher and plopping down beside them.
Gali nudged her shoulder. “Chill lang. Manood muna tayo ng ibang teams.”
Their team’s match was the third game of the day, meaning they had time to observe the other teams play. As the first match started, the team leaned forward, watching closely.
“Uy, ito yung team na natalo natin dati,” Jorge commented. “Pero ang solid ng defense nila ngayon.”
“Pinag-aralan nila mistakes nila,” Gali observed. “Malamang iniisip nila na babawi sila sa susunod na laban.”
Maiven watched intently, analyzing their movements. “Mas aggressive na yung outside hitter nila ngayon. Hindi natin pwedeng baliwalain yan.”
The match continued, and they took mental notes. The second game was even more interesting. It was between the two teams that had beaten them.
“Kailangan manalo yung Educ para di tayo matanggal sa standings,” Cali muttered.
“Pero gusto kong makita silang pareho mahirapan,” Jorge added with a grin.
The rallies were intense, each set going back and forth. The rival teams showed no weaknesses, their attacks sharp and their defenses airtight. Maiven’s jaw tightened as she watched a powerful spike land just inside the line.
“That’s our competition,” she muttered. “We need to be sharper than that.”
Just then, a sharp whistle cut through the tension, and a familiar voice called out from behind them.
“Alright, team! Dugout. Now.”
Coach Mad’s voice carried no room for argument. They all exchanged looks before standing up, game mode activating instantly.
Coach Mad stood in front of them, arms crossed, eyes scanning each of them with intensity. “This is it. This game decides if we stay in this tournament. I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake.”
Everyone nodded, their previous playful energy shifting into pure focus.
“We fix our defense. No hesitation. Play smart,” Coach continued. “Maiven.”
Maiven lifted her chin. “Yes, Coach?”
“You’re leading this team. I need you to be there, mentally and physically.”
“I will be,” she assured.
Coach Mad looked around. “Cali, Jorge, everyone—you know your roles. Play your damn hearts out.”
“Yes, Coach!” they responded in unison.
Maiven stood, clapping her hands together. “Alright, let’s make something clear—no one, and I mean no one, is walking out of here with regrets. We fight for every damn point. We owe that to ourselves.”
A murmur of agreement spread through the room.
“Let's take back what’s ours,” Maiven added, fire burning in her eyes.
They huddled, hands stacked together in the center.
“On three,” Maiven said. “One… two… three—”
“WIN!”
They stormed out of the dugout, ready for war.
The deafening roar of the crowd hit Maiven the moment she stepped onto the court.
"MAIVEN! MAIVEN! MAIVEN!"
Her name echoed from all directions, banners raised high with slogans like "The Queen is Back!" and "Captain Lee, Lead Us to Victory!" It was overwhelming. The admiration, the love, the pressure, it was all there, thick in the air like a storm brewing over the court.
She inhaled deeply, tuning everything out except for the familiar feel of the court beneath her shoes, the rhythmic sound of a volleyball bouncing, and the scent of polished wood mixed with sweat. She was back.
Her teammates jogged past her, starting their warm up drills. The crowd erupted again as the Engineering Department made their entrance, their players walking in with an air of dominance. They were undefeated in the tournament—Business was fighting for survival.
Maiven threw a glance at Cali, who met her gaze with a smirk.
"Hope you’re ready to run for your life, Lee," Cali teased, adjusting her libero jersey.
Maiven rolled her eyes. "You better not let a single ball hit the floor."
Cali just grinned.
After a few minutes of drills, Coach Mad called them in. They huddled near their bench as Gali, the team manager, stood beside Coach Mad, arms crossed.
"Alright," Coach Mad started, her voice firm. "Starting six: Maiven as setter, Jorge and Bea as spikers, Cali as libero, Reese and Riel at back defense."
A few murmurs of agreement, a few nods. They expected this.
"We’re playing smart, not reckless," Coach continued. "Engineering will come at us with power. We’re countering with speed and precision. Cali, I need you reading every attack. Reese, Riel—hold the line. Maiven, quick sets, keep them guessing. Jorge, Bea—make them regret blocking you."
Maiven straightened.
"Business needs this win. Play like it’s your last game. Got it?"
"Got it!" they echoed.
As they broke the huddle, Jorge nudged Maiven. "Uh, Lee, we might have a VIP watching us today."
Maiven barely looked up as she stretched her arms. "Huh?"
Jorge jerked her chin toward the best seats in the bleachers. "Look who's here."
Maiven followed her gaze, and her breath hitched for a second.
Adrielle Hidalgo.
Perfectly poised in her seat, looking as if she had just wandered into the wrong event, yet somehow, she commanded attention without even trying. She didn’t belong here. Volleyball courts were loud, messy, and unpredictable. Yet there she was, in the best seat in the house, watching.
Maiven quickly looked away. "So?"
Jorge grinned. "So? Maybe she heard you’re back and decided to see for herself."
Maiven rolled her eyes. "You're overthinking."
"Am I?" Jorge wiggled her brows. "Maybe she’s here for—"
A voice boomed over the speakers, cutting off Jorge’s teasing.
"And now, please welcome back to the court—our very own MAIVEN LEE!"
The arena exploded into cheers.
Maiven sighed, giving a small, shy wave as she stepped onto the court.
The crowd swooned.
She forced herself to focus, but her gaze flickered back—just for a second.
Adrielle was looking right at her.
What is she doing here?
No time to dwell on it. The referee blew the whistle. The game was on.
The referee’s whistle pierced through the air, signaling the start of the match. Engineering’s captain, a towering middle blocker with a deadly serve, tossed the ball high. With a sharp swing, she sent the ball hurtling toward Business’ side like a bullet.
Cali was already moving. She tracked the ball’s trajectory, dropped into a perfect stance, and dug it with precision. The impact stung her arms, but the ball arched beautifully toward Maiven’s waiting hands.
"Maiven!" Riel called, already positioning for coverage.
Maiven inhaled, her brain calculating in a split second. The blockers were watching Jorge, anticipating a strong outside attack. But Maiven was always a step ahead.
Instead of setting a high ball to the left, she flicked her wrists, sending a fast, low set to Jorge on the right.
"Here we go!" Jorge shouted, eyes gleaming.
She launched herself into the air, twisting mid flight, and spiked the ball with a devastating force.
BOOM!
The ball slammed into the opponent’s court, untouched.
The whistle blew.
"Point, Business Department!"
The crowd exploded.
Jorge turned to Maiven with a smirk, shaking out her hand from the impact. "That was a perfect set, Cap. Keep them coming."
Maiven rolled her eyes but grinned. "Then make sure you don’t waste them."
1-0, Business.
Engineering refused to be shaken. Their setter called for a quick play, sending the ball to their opposite hitter, who smashed it down the line.
Reese lunged for the save.
Her fingers barely grazed the ball, popping it up just enough for Riel to recover.
"Maiven!"
Maiven dashed to the net, hands poised. The blockers anticipated another fast set, bracing for Jorge or Bea.
But Maiven changed the tempo.
She pushed the ball higher, slower—right into Bea’s zone.
Bea grinned. "Mine!"
She soared over the net and crushed the ball down the middle.
Engineering’s libero dove, barely keeping the ball alive. Their setter scrambled, tipping it over in desperation.
Maiven rushed forward.
Instead of setting, she dumped the ball over the net in a sneaky play.
The ball hit the floor.
2-0, Business!
The crowd roared.
Maiven wiped sweat from her brow. This was far from over.
Engineering’s outside hitter retaliated with a sharp crosscourt spike.
Cali threw herself into a dive, but the ball slipped past her fingers.
2-1.
The Engineering crowd erupted.
The next rally was even fiercer. Engineering’s middle blocker faked a quick attack before their outside hitter slammed the ball toward Business’ zone.
Reese deflected it, sending the ball spiraling toward the net.
Maiven had no time to think—only to react.
She jumped, twisting mid air, and back set the ball blindly.
Jorge was already airborne.
She crushed the ball between two blockers.
The ball hit the floor.
3-1.
Maiven exhaled sharply. This was the intensity she had missed.
The scoreboard flashed:
24-24.
Set point.
Coach Mad called a timeout.
The team huddled together, panting.
"One more point," Coach Mad ordered. "Stay smart. We’re taking this set."
They nodded.
Back on the court, Engineering served.
Cali received it flawlessly.
Riel passed it to Maiven.
Maiven saw the blockers moving toward Jorge, expecting another powerful hit.
So she did the unexpected.
Instead of setting, she flicked the ball over the net in a setter’s dump.
The defenders, caught completely off guard, didn’t even move.
The ball landed.
25-24. Set, Business Department!
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Maiven turned, letting the noise wash over her.
And then—
Her eyes flickered up.
Adrielle was still watching.
Not the game.
Her.
The second set began with a vengeance. Engineering, clearly furious after losing the first set, came in with sharper attacks and faster plays. Their captain, a powerhouse middle blocker, slammed the first ball straight down, the impact reverberating through the court.
0-1.
Maiven clenched her jaw. They’re stepping up their game.
The rally that followed was relentless. Engineering’s setter was unpredictable, shifting between quick plays and deceptive tips. Maiven adjusted her strategy, calling for faster sets and pushing her spikers to exploit gaps in the defense.
Jorge smashed a line shot.
Bea blocked a quick attack.
Cali dove for a miraculous save, sending the ball just high enough for Maiven to tip it over.
But Engineering was just as determined. Their outside hitter delivered a devastating spike that Reese barely saved. Their libero chased down impossible balls, keeping their rallies alive.
The set remained neck and neck.
23-23.
The crowd was on their feet, chanting, screaming, waiting for something to break the deadlock.
Engineering served, targeting the weakest link.
Maiven moved fast, setting a perfect ball to Jorge. Jorge swung—but Engineering’s blockers shut her down with a roof block.
23-24. Set point for Engineering.
Coach Mad called a timeout.
Everyone was panting, sweat dripping from their brows.
"We are not losing this set," Coach Mad barked. "Push harder. Be smarter. Fight for every ball!"
The whistle blew. The teams returned to the court.
Engineering’s serve came fast, but Cali read it perfectly, sending a clean pass to Maiven.
Maiven had choices. She saw Jorge waiting, Bea ready—
But at the last second, she faked a set and pushed the ball behind her to Riel, who thundered a back-row attack right into the corner.
The ball hit.
24-24. Deuce.
The crowd went insane.
But Engineering refused to back down. They won the next rally with a well-placed tip.
24-25.
Business answered right back—Bea delivered a sharp crosscourt kill.
25-25.
It was a war of endurance, of mental and physical resilience.
The final play came in a blur. Engineering’s spiker aimed for a kill, but Jorge and Bea jumped together, forming an unbreakable wall.
BLOCKED!
The ball hit the ground.
26-24. Business takes the second set!
The entire Business department exploded in cheers.
With their backs against the wall, Engineering came into the third set with an unrelenting force. Their outside hitter delivered a series of impossible spikes, their defense locked down Business' attacks.
They took an early lead.
5-10.
Maiven called for a tighter formation.
They clawed their way back, but Engineering refused to break.
Despite their best efforts, Business lost the third set 19-25.
The crowd held its breath.
The game was now at 2-1.
Coach Mad’s voice was razor-sharp. "We are not letting them force a fifth set. You want to stay in this tournament? Fight like it!"
Business answered the call.
Jorge and Bea alternated kills, while Riel and Reese held the backline defense like their lives depended on it.
Maiven set the tempo, feeding the best balls to her hitters, but also sneaking in a few setter dumps that caught Engineering off guard.
The score climbed higher, point by point.
22-22.
Bea launched a quick attack.
23-22.
Engineering answered back.
23-23.
The tension was suffocating.
Then, in a breathtaking rally that lasted thirty seconds, Cali made a diving save, sending the ball to Maiven—who set it to Jorge.
Jorge blasted a straight shot through the blockers.
24-23. Match point.
The last play was a blur. Engineering attempted a quick play, but Bea read it perfectly— blocking it straight down.
The ball bounced on the floor.
25-23. Business wins in overtime!
The gym was electric. The Business department was still celebrating their hard-fought victory against the undefeated Engineering team, their chants of Maiven’s name echoing off the walls.
"Maiven! Maiven! Maiven!"
Maiven barely registered the noise. Her heart was still pounding, her muscles burning from the match.
But her focus wasn’t on the court anymore. It was on the person sitting across the gym, still looking completely out of place.
Adrielle Hidalgo.
She had been there since before the game started. She had the best seat in the house—as if she had specifically chosen to get the clearest view. And yet, she looked as if she didn’t belong.
Even in her casual, expensive, tailored clothes, even with that cold, unreadable expression, she stood out. Not because she was trying to. Adrielle never tried. She just did.
Maiven exhaled, running a hand through her damp hair. She could feel eyes on her. People watching, waiting, speculating. But she didn’t care.
With purposeful steps, she left her celebrating teammates and walked straight toward Adrielle. The moment she stopped in front of her, the air shifted. The noise faded.
Adrielle’s sharp eyes locked onto hers, a flicker of something passing through them.
They knew each other. Had always known each other.
Their families had been business partners once. There were formal parties, high-stakes meetings, polite nods exchanged across lavish banquet halls. But they had never spoken.
Not once.
Until now.
Maiven crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. "You look out of place, Hidalgo."
Adrielle didn’t flinch. She leaned back slightly, looking up at Maiven with a cool, unreadable expression.
"I was forced to be here," she replied flatly. "Some minor subject requirement."
Maiven raised an eyebrow. "Right. You totally didn’t seem like you were enjoying yourself."
Adrielle exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "Don’t flatter yourself, Lee."
Something about the way she said her name sent a strange jolt through Maiven. She ignored it.
Around them, the buzz had already started. People were noticing.
Business students. Engineering students. The crowd that had just been chanting her name was now whispering about the sudden interaction between Maiven Lee and Adrielle Hidalgo.
A new headline in the making.
But Adrielle?
She barely reacted.
She didn’t acknowledge the stares, didn’t seem to care that this was probably already spreading through group chats and online forums.
She just looked at Maiven, waiting.
For what, Maiven didn’t know.
So instead, she chuckled, shaking her head. "Then make sure you watch our next game."
Adrielle arched an eyebrow, lips twitching into an almost a smile.
"Don’t expect me to cheer," she muttered.
Maiven smirked. "Wouldn’t dream of it."
And just like that, she turned around, walking back to her teammates, leaving an entire room full of people wondering what the hell just happened.
And leaving Adrielle watching her go.