The first days of February 2020 opened with an eerie hush, as though the whole world was holding its breath. In UP Los Baños, the usual energy of a new semester dulled just slightly—still vibrant with students rushing between classes and org meetings, but tinged now with a collective sense of waiting. Waiting for clarity, for news, for certainty that never seemed to come.
But Carmela was not wasting time. If anything, the strange quiet had pushed her into action.
Having been reborn with the memories of a past life, Carmela had a distinct advantage. She remembered how the global pandemic began in early 2020 and how it swept across nations like wildfire. She recalled the fear, the economic collapse, the sudden lockdowns, and the way millions of lives changed almost overnight. But most of all, she remembered the missed opportunities—the chances to prepare, to adapt early, to protect those she loved.
She had taken her first steps toward financial preparedness as early as 2008. In that past life, the global financial crisis was just another headline. But with her second chance, Carmela knew what it meant. So in 2008, when she was still just a child, she began slowly investing with the help of her older cousin, who had a small brokerage account. She picked conservative mutual funds, index funds, and a handful of blue-chip Philippine stocks. She kept the investments untouched, growing quietly through the years.
Now in 2020, with the threat of another global economic collapse looming, Carmela knew it was time to assess. She took a weekend trip home to the province to dig up her old documents and meet with her cousin who helped her manage the early accounts. Her long-held investments had appreciated handsomely over more than a decade, bolstered by reinvested dividends and compounding returns.
But now came the hard decision.
Should she liquidate?
She knew from memory that the stock market would crash in March 2020 but would slowly rebound in the following years, led by tech, logistics, and certain healthcare sectors. Philippine stocks, however, would be slower to recover.
She opened her laptop and pulled up charts from her COL Financial account. Some of her holdings were in Jollibee Foods Corporation, PLDT, and Ayala Land. While stable, they wouldn't see the explosive growth that companies like Zoom or Shopify experienced abroad.
But she couldn't invest directly in U.S. markets without more paperwork and capital. Unless…
She began researching feeder funds and global mutual funds accessible through local banks. BPI and BDO had several options that invested in global tech and healthcare. She made a list, marked the ones with low management fees, and scheduled meetings with bank representatives the next week.
Instead of pulling out all her money, she decided on a strategy: partial reallocation. She'd keep her core long-term investments but move 20% into funds with global exposure, and another 10% into high-liquidity assets like money market funds.
She also reviewed real estate investment trusts (REITs), a newer addition to the Philippine Stock Exchange. While these would take a hit in the pandemic's early days, they'd offer consistent dividends in the long term. She marked AREIT for future consideration.
At night, she journaled everything.
"The goal isn't to panic-sell," she wrote. "It's to position myself for what's coming—economic downturn, remote work shift, online learning boom, logistics and e-commerce explosion."
Carmela also created a spreadsheet she named "Pandemic Readiness Portfolio." It tracked not only her financial allocations but also emergency savings, essential goods, backup income streams, and technology resources.
One tab was dedicated to freelance platforms—Upwork, Fiverr, OnlineJobs.ph—where she could offer writing, design, or virtual assistance if needed. Another tab listed online courses she wanted to finish before potential lockdowns: digital marketing, basic coding, data analytics.
She had already started buying small essentials back in January: alcohol, soap, dry goods, instant noodles, rice, and vitamins. When her dormmates laughed at her little stash under the bed, she only smiled.
By the second week of February, even some of those same dormmates were beginning to copy her.
"Hey, Carmela," her roommate said one evening. "Where did you buy that 70% alcohol? It's out of stock in Mercury."
Carmela passed her a bottle without hesitation. "I bought a few extras. You can have this one."
Beyond personal preparedness, Carmela focused on education and empowerment. She worked closely with her professors, pushing to build more remote-friendly systems. Her rural finance app, which had started as a school project, was now evolving into something more robust—capable of offline use, secure data syncing, and community integration.
"Professor Tenorio," she said during a Zoom call, "I think we can build this into a platform for crisis resilience. A tool that barangay cooperatives can use even when cut off from internet or banks."
He looked at her thoughtfully. "Then let's bring in another developer. We need to fast-track this."
Meanwhile, her connection with Raziel deepened.
Though their interactions remained modest—study sessions, walks around campus, shared coffee breaks—there was a quiet understanding growing between them. Raziel had been there since the beginning, always respectful, never rushing her. He listened when she vented about her fears, offered encouragement when she felt overwhelmed.
One day, while they were watching the sunset over the UPLB Freedom Park, Carmela turned to him.
"Do you think…" she began, then paused. "Do you think the world's going to change forever?"
Raziel leaned back on the grass. "It already has, Mel. But we have each other. That's what matters."
She didn't say anything, but her fingers inched closer to his. They didn't touch. Not yet. But the gap between them was closing, slowly, intentionally.
Back in her dorm, Carmela finalized her updated investment plan. She decided to transfer part of her long-term holdings to BPI's Global Equity Feeder Fund, and the rest to BDO's USD-denominated Healthcare Fund. She converted some pesos to dollars while the rate was still favorable, recalling from her past life that the peso would weaken further mid-pandemic.
She also opened a GSave account for emergency funds and used GInvest for short-term goals. On Shopee, she bought a second-hand iPad with a keyboard case for productivity and remote work.
In her blog, she began writing again—under a pseudonym—as a form of advocacy. She detailed how students could prepare financially, how to access free learning tools, and how to build resilience in uncertain times.
She titled one post: "Lessons from a Life Once Lived."
The comments flooded in:
"This made me rethink my spending."
"Grabe, thank you for sharing! I never thought about this before."
"Are you a finance major? You sound like a pro!"
She smiled at that one. If only they knew.
By the end of February, the first local case of COVID-19 was officially confirmed. Panic slowly rippled across the islands.
But Carmela was ready.
Not because she had a crystal ball, but because she had lived through it once. This time, she was determined to lead with foresight, not fear.
She stood in her dorm window on the last night of the month, watching the dark sky settle over Laguna.
Her laptop was charged. Her emergency kit was packed. Her heart, though uncertain, was steady.
Whatever storm came next, she wouldn't just survive.
She would thrive.