Jazz Andrie Alaon

Title: The Year She Learned to Stay Quiet They first met in Grade 2. Two kids placed side by side because of alphabetical order. Avianna Zein Babali was quiet but sharp. Jazz Andrie S. Alaon was loud, curious, and always smiling. By Grade 3, they were inseparable. From Grades 3 to 6, they grew up together — sharing notebooks, snacks, secrets, and the kind of laughter that only makes sense when you’re still small enough to believe nothing will ever change. But everything changed in Grade 6. That was the year Avi realized her feelings weren’t just friendship anymore. It wasn’t sudden. It was slow. The way her heart beat faster when he leaned closer. The way she waited for him before going home. The way she noticed things she never noticed before — the shape of his smile, the way he said her name. Grade 6 was also the year Jazz started liking someone else. Ropa Siah G. Cajeda. She was in Grade 5 at the time — younger, bright, confident in a way that drew attention easily. Jazz talked about her casually, unaware that every mention felt like a small crack in Avi’s chest. Avi never told him. She stayed his best friend. She laughed when he teased her. She listened when he talked about Ropa. She learned how to swallow feelings quietly. Then graduation came. High school separated them. Different schools. Different paths. The daily routine of “see you tomorrow” disappeared without warning. They promised to stay close. They didn’t. College widened the distance even more. Messages faded. Updates became rare. Childhood turned into memory. Years passed. Avianna Zein Babali became a lawyer — composed, intelligent, unshaken in courtrooms. She built her strength through discipline, turning the girl who stayed quiet into a woman who speaks with authority. Ropa Siah G. Cajeda became an architect — designing structures with precision, turning ideas into buildings that lasted. And Jazz Andrie S. Alaon became a pilot — always in motion, always between departures and