Not every rich kid has to go to a private school.
That was one of Andi Navarro's most controversial opinions. Because for her, private schools were too boring. Too uniform. Too proper. Too pretend. No real stories. No flirty teasing in the hallway. No stories like, "We ran from the guard because we were late for the flag ceremony."
She wanted Gesly and Bella to experience real teenage life.
The kind of high school where you share answers at the back of the room. Where students race to the canteen so they don't run out of food. Where you bring ginataan in a plastic bag for lunch or sometimes pancit canton cooked in the faculty room because it's the adviser's birthday.
So even though she could afford to enroll them in the most expensive exclusive school in the city, she still sent them to a public high school.
"So you'll have stories when you grow up," she said while fixing Bella's ID lace.
"But Ate, aren't public schools messy?" Gesly asked, adjusting his hair in front of the mirror.
"Exactly," Andi smiled. "That's the fun part. Character development."
And she didn't just handle the enrollment—she covered everything on a high school student's shopping list.
Complete notebooks with covers and labels. Extra pens—five more than usual because they always go missing. Uniforms that fit just right—not too loose, not like a beauty pageant outfit. PE shirts, jogging pants, black shoes, white shoes, and extra socks. And of course, each got their own Samsung phone.
Their allowance? $150 a day. Enough. Not too much. Just right for lunch, a small snack, and fare.
But at Gesly's junior high school graduation, Andi had a surprise.
After the ceremony, while Gesly was still in his white uniform and holding his diploma folder, Andi pulled him out of the gym.
"What's going on, Ate?" he asked.
"I just have something for you," Andi replied. She led him to the side of the parking lot where a tarp was covering something. She pulled it off.
And there it was—her gift.
A Honda. Ordinary. No decals. No flashy details. But clean and shiny. The engine in good condition. Perfect for a student who just needed a ride to and from school.
"It's not fancy," Andi said, "but it's safe. Fuel-efficient. And not a carnap target."
Gesly just held the helmet, speechless, unsure if it was really his.
"This is really mine?" he asked, eyes wide, unsure if he should cry or cheer.
Andi smiled. "Yes. So you don't have to keep hitching a tricycle ride. You'll take Bella to school now. It's got GPS, and a kill switch linked to my phone. Don't even think about skipping class. I'll know."
Bella suddenly started crying on the side. "Ate, you're so kind…"
Andi smiled, pulled them both close, and hugged them tightly. "You take care of each other now."
That's what she wanted them to learn: Whether you're rich or not, what matters is knowing your place. The price of what you own doesn't define your success. True wealth is knowing how not to abuse what you have.
And in a world full of kids who flaunt everything, she was raising two who understood the power of simplicity.
Later that night, as she watched Gesly test the motorbike inside the gate and Bella busy putting stickers on her notebook, Andi sat quietly on the veranda.
She was holding a cup of instant coffee—not imported, not artisan, just a simple three-in-one.
On the side of the table, her laptop was open. A new email. Subject line:
"Dela Vuega Holdings: Board Invitation – Seat for Andrea Navarro."
She smiled. Soon.
But not yet.
Right now, she needed to watch how Gesly used the brakes. And how Bella learned to budget her allowance.
There's a time for the crown. But for now, she'd be the strict, sharp-tongued big sister.
In Room 11-B, Gesly Navarro was known as "the chill but quiet one." He wasn't top of the class. Not a troublemaker either. But he had that calm, unreadable aura—like you couldn't tell if something was bothering him or if he was just hungry.
"Bro, you got a new phone, huh?" Mark asked, glancing at the Samsung A-series on Gesly's desk.
"My sister gave it to me," Gesly said, casually slipping the phone into his pocket.
"Was that her who picked you up last month? The one in the white shirt and long skirt?" Franco cut in, grinning mischievously.
Gesly paused. "Yeah, why?"
"Bro. That's your sister?! She's hot, man." His friends burst into laughter.
That wasn't new for Gesly. Ever since he and Bella started in public school, some of their classmates noticed Andi. But not because of glamor or luxury—because of how she carried herself.
At the first PTA meeting, Andi wore a thrifted olive-green long skirt, a plain tucked-in white shirt, and simple sandals—not expensive, but clean and elegant. She carried a brown sling bag that Gesly knew she bought from Shopee. Light blush, a hint of gloss, and a ponytail with loose strands framing her face. Effortless, but striking.
When she entered the classroom, every dad and student turned their heads. When she smiled, he even heard whispers:
"Damn, that's his sister?"
"Bro, add her on FB."
"What's her social media?"
He didn't react. Because even at home, she was the same.
When they got home, while he was changing, he heard Bella giggling in the kitchen while Andi cooked hotdogs and fried rice.
"Kuya, someone asked if Ate is single," Bella teased, holding her Hello Kitty tumbler.
"Really?" Andi asked, amused. "And what did you say, Gesly?"
He walked out of his room, towel on his shoulder.
"Nothing. I said you're grumpy and ugly."
"Wow, rude!" Andi laughed, playfully hitting him on the arm with a ladle.
But even through the jokes, everyone could feel Andi's quiet influence. She wasn't loud. Not flashy. But she had class. Confidence. Strength.
And that's why Gesly was proud.
At school, classmates were curious. Not because he had a motorbike or a new phone, but because of small things: his uniform was always clean. He always had food—but not the fancy kind. He never bragged, but you knew he wasn't struggling. And when people asked what his sister did for a living, he just said,
"Nothing much. I don't really know."
What he knew was that his sister managed their money, their home, their future. She made the grocery list, the investment plans, Bella's tutor schedules. She even fixed the Wi-Fi last week like a pro.
But outside the house?
She was just his sister. A quiet, simply elegant woman. And for Gesly, that was her real power.
She didn't need expensive brands. She didn't need to show off.
Because even in a simple long skirt—everyone still looked her way.
One time during PE, Franco came up to him. "Bro, seriously, my dad has a crush on your sister."
"Ew," Gesly replied. "That's bad for his cholesterol. Tell your mom."
They laughed.
But deep inside, he felt something different—pride. Because through everything they'd been through, Andi was the reason his world still felt normal. The reason that even without their mom and dad, they still felt whole.
At home, when they all ate dinner together—sometimes pizza, sometimes just soup—Gesly would glance at Andi while she took a bite of rice.
He never said it out loud, but…
Ate Andi is his hero.