By July 2021, the rainy season had begun in the Philippines. The skies over Carmela's hometown in the province were often gray and heavy, echoing the mood of many across the nation. COVID-19 remained a looming threat, and the country had just entered another round of community quarantines. Businesses faltered, families struggled, and uncertainty weighed heavily on everyone.
But for Carmela, this month marked a silent acceleration.
Having moved back to her family home earlier in the year, Carmela transformed one of the spare rooms into her command center. Her old childhood bedroom had been repurposed into a private workspace, the once pastel-colored walls now lined with whiteboards, corkboards, and a dedicated workstation. From here, in the quiet comfort of home, surrounded by the familiar scent of provincial air and the echo of roosters crowing in the morning, she orchestrated the future.
She had officially launched a soft beta version of her business project: **KATALISTA PH**, a virtual service network offering trained virtual assistants, online tutors, and sellers. She rebranded the original KATIPUNAN HUB as part of this broader ecosystem. Now, KATIPUNAN powered the backend logistics and digital tools, while KATALISTA was the human-driven front line of this digital revolution.
The concept was simple but powerful: people who had lost jobs or couldn't find stable employment during the pandemic could apply to be trained as virtual service providers. Whether they had teaching experience, administrative skills, or sales acumen, Carmela's platform could match them with SMEs, professionals, or families needing their services locally and abroad.
KATALISTA wasn't just about business. It was about livelihood.
Each morning, Carmela reviewed emails and app analytics from the same desk where she used to do her high school homework. She worked closely with her brother—the Computer Science graduate—who now managed their small store but still found time to help refine the platform's capabilities. While he still believed it was part of her school project, he admired the scale and ambition of what she was doing.
"You're really turning this into something, Mel," he said one morning as he tested the new admin dashboard with her. "Have you thought of adding more services, like marketing or online store management?"
Carmela smiled. "Exactly what I was thinking. The platform should grow with the people who use it."
Her eyes were always on the long game.
Training sessions were now done from her room, with Carmela speaking clearly into a webcam mounted above her monitor. Her sister in Manila helped discreetly by posing as a freelance coordinator and interviewing potential recruits from urban centers. Raziel, ever her dependable partner, joined the sessions from his own home and handled much of the technical integration behind the scenes.
Late one evening, while rain poured gently on the tin roof, Raziel read her a testimonial from one of their users:
"Mel, this one's from Janine, a tutor from Iloilo. 'Because of KATALISTA, I was able to support my child's online schooling and buy groceries without asking for ayuda. Thank you for giving us dignity.'"
Carmela pressed a hand to her chest.
"This... this is why we do it," she whispered.
She thought back to her past life, a life where she felt lost and dependent, watching the world move without her. Now, she was part of the engine—creating motion, opportunity, hope.
The Delta variant soon began to cause concern across the country. News of increasing cases filled the airwaves, and community restrictions returned. Still, Carmela was prepared. Her home setup was resilient: dual internet connections, backup power, and locally stored project data.
Every part of KATALISTA was built to operate remotely. Clients and team members used cloud storage and messaging platforms. The system was optimized for low data usage—essential in rural areas—and could handle outages thanks to smart caching and offline support features.
Her professors remained unaware of the true depth of her work. But her adviser sent a commendation via email:
"Miss San Jose, your capstone is not just academically excellent—it is socially impactful. I've nominated it for university recognition."
She appreciated it but kept her attention on the mission.
Carmela maintained a rhythm: work from early morning until lunch, rest with family in the afternoon, then train or strategize in the evening. Meals with her family were filled with laughter and small talk, her secrets safely hidden. Her sister, the only one who knew part of the truth, continued to help quietly. Even she didn't know the scale of the lotto winnings that had seeded Carmela's empire.
Weekends were her time to think big.
During one Sunday morning, she and Raziel had a voice call while watching the rain fall.
"Have you looked into DOST or DICT grants for tech startups?" Raziel asked.
"I have," she replied. "But I want to stay lean and avoid bureaucracy. At least until the platform stabilizes."
Raziel chuckled. "You're something else, you know that?"
"I get that a lot," she teased.
He laughed, but then said more quietly, "You inspire me."
They didn't need to say more. It was all there in the silence.
Carmela's days blurred into purposeful progress. Her platform grew. More applicants came in—some from as far as Zamboanga and South Cotabato. Each new story gave her fire.
One tutor said she could finally pay for her mother's medicines. An online seller credited KATALISTA's marketplace tools for doubling their revenue.
By the third week of July, an NGO supporting displaced workers reached out. They'd read her blog and wanted to feature KATALISTA in their newsletter.
Carmela agreed and spoke in their webinar from her bedroom desk. Her words were calm, passionate, and grounded. Comments poured in, thanking her for the initiative and asking how to join.
After the event, Raziel messaged her: "You were amazing. You have no idea how proud I am of you."
She smiled at her screen. "Thanks. It means a lot."
A beat passed.
"Hey," he typed. "When things settle down... maybe we could hang out again? Like... for real this time?"
Carmela's heart skipped.
"I'd like that."
It was small, sweet, and just right.
Despite the chaos beyond her walls, Carmela built her empire steadily, silently. No one—not even those closest to her—knew just how vast her vision was. She kept her plans close, her capital secure, and her focus razor-sharp.
She wasn't just dreaming of the future.
She was building it.
Brick by digital brick.
From the heart of her home.
And in that home, behind closed doors, Carmela San Jose was becoming the boss she was always meant to be.