Every morning at Mabini Elementary, Lira Santos arrived with her backpack, her braids, and her perfectly sharpened pencils. She was an excellent student—always early, always prepared, always ready with the right answer.

And every day, without fail, at exactly 10:03 AM, she raised her hand.

Not to answer a question.

Not to show her homework.

But to say, in the politest voice possible:

“Ma’am, may I go to the restroom?”

Her classmates didn’t tease her. They were too amazed. Lira’s timing was so precise that some kids used it to check their watches.

“It’s 10:03,” her seatmate Paolo would whisper. “Any second now…”

Hand up. Permission granted. Off she went.

No one knew why it happened. Not even Lira. She tried eating breakfast earlier—still 10:03. She tried skipping her morning snack—10:03. She even tried sitting in a different chair, just in case the universe was playing a joke on her. But the universe, apparently, had a schedule.

One day, during Science class, her teacher Mrs. Rivera paused mid‑lesson and said, “Class, today we’re learning about the human body’s internal clock.”

Everyone slowly turned toward Lira.

She sank into her seat. “It’s not that interesting,” she mumbled.

“Oh, but it is!” Mrs. Rivera said warmly. “Some people wake up at the same time every day. Some get hungry at the same time. And some”—she smiled at Lira—“have very reliable… routines.”

The class giggled, but kindly. Lira felt her cheeks warm, but she also felt something else: pride. Not everyone had a superpower, but she did. A strange one, sure—but a dependable one.

And right on cue, the clock ticked.

10:03 AM.

Lira raised her hand.

“Ma’am,” she said, standing tall, “may I go to the restroom?”

Mrs. Rivera nodded. “Of course, Lira. Right on time.”

And as Lira walked down the hallway, she thought that maybe having a perfectly punctual body wasn’t so strange after all. In a world full of surprises, she could always count on one thing:

10:03 AM belonged to her.