It was past midnight again—the kind of hour when the air feels too heavy for sleep, when the house is still but your thoughts are restless. I had just finished a Netflix series, the kind you half-watch for distraction and half-watch to fill the silence, when I found myself on YouTube. I wasn’t searching for anything in particular; I just let the algorithm take the wheel. At the very top of my recommended list was a familiar face—Liza Soberano, always known for her elegance and composure. I clicked without thinking, expecting nothing more than a casual interview or light-hearted moment. Instead, I stumbled into something far more arresting. Calm, unhurried, and with an assurance that needed no volume, she said: “Mind your f**king business.”

The delivery caught me off guard—not because of the words themselves, but because of how she said them. There was no trace of anger or performance, just a clean, precise statement, sharp enough to cut through the noise. It was the kind of truth that didn’t need embellishment. And I realised, in that moment, how many times I had longed to say those exact words. To the people who wrap their judgment in the guise of concern. To those who believe being in your orbit entitles them to every chapter of your story. To strangers who assume that public presence equals public property.

We live in a culture where boundaries are mistaken for arrogance, where silence is treated as an open door to pry. But Liza’s words were not a wall—they were a line drawn in firm, unshaken dignity.

What made it powerful was that it wasn’t about shutting people out—it was about reminding them that not all of you is up for discussion. Boundaries are not made of bitterness; they are built from self-respect, and not everyone earns a key. Protecting your peace doesn’t mean you are fragile—it means you understand your own worth. Saying “no” without offering an essay-length explanation is not rude; it is necessary. That single midnight click reminded me that the most important parts of our lives are the ones we guard, the parts we do not put on display for likes or approval. And it takes courage—the quiet, unglamorous kind—to hold that line, knowing full well you might be misunderstood for it.

Perhaps that is the truest lesson in all of this: you don’t need to soften your truth so it is easier for others to swallow. You don’t have to let people into spaces they were never invited to. And you certainly don’t have to be universally liked to live authentically. The right people will never need to be told to mind their own business—because they already do. That night, what began as a restless scroll turned into an unspoken challenge: to live with the same clarity, to own my boundaries without apology, and to remember that sometimes, the most liberating words we can say are also the simplest—mind your f**king business.