Part 4: “When Morning Comes"

Let's dive into Part 4, —the story continues with morning light, new feelings, and the moment where fantasy meets reality. The spark between Yam and Franc is still alive, but now they’ll have to face what comes after the night that changed everything

I didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment Franc and I were sharing silence—the kind that says more than words. The next, I woke up to a soft stream of morning light trickling through my window like it was shy about being noticed.

My back ached slightly, thanks to my old mattress and a night spent curled into myself. I blinked, adjusting to the light. Then I saw him.

Franc was still there.

He was sitting upright now, shirt wrinkled, hair tousled in that unfairly sexy way. Eyes focused on something outside my window—as if the skyline held answers to questions he hadn’t dared ask yet.

“You’re still here,” I said, voice hoarse from sleep.

He turned, and his lips lifted just slightly. “Did you think I’d leave before the fan stopped spinning?”

I snorted. “That fan spins through typhoons, don’t test its loyalty.”

He chuckled and leaned back, cracking his neck like someone who’d slept on concrete.

“Thanks for last night,” he said softly.

“For the candy, the bed, or the rescue?”

“All of it,” he replied.

I got up and made us coffee—cheap instant stuff, but at least it gave our mouths something to do that wasn’t flirting. He watched me move like he was memorizing it.

We sat together again, mugs warm in our hands.

“What now?” I asked, surprising myself with how serious I sounded.

Franc didn’t answer right away. He just stared into the steam of his coffee like it was a crystal ball.

“You really wanna know?” he asked eventually.

“Yup.”

“I don’t know where I’m going next,” he admitted. “I wasn’t planning any of this.”

I nodded. “Neither was I.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled receipt, scribbled with something that looked like a phone number.

“This is all I had when I woke up,” he said, offering it to me. “I think it’s from the bar I blacked out at.”

I took it, squinting. “The handwriting looks drunk.”

He laughed. “So does my life.”

There was a pause.

“I don’t want to go yet,” he added. “But I probably should.”

That hit harder than expected.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because people like me don’t stay,” he said. “We drift. We crash into weird nights and kind strangers and leave before the real stuff starts.”

“Or maybe you just haven't met someone who asked you to stay,” I replied.

Franc looked at me.

Slowly. Carefully.

“I met you.”

Silence again. But this one wasn’t thick—it was soft. Like a blanket.

“You still want me to stay?” he asked.

I didn’t blink. “Yup.”

His gaze lingered.

Then he stood, took his mug, and walked to the window.

“What if I mess everything up?” he asked.

“Then we clean it,” I said. “You’ve already survived being hung upside-down like a human ornament. I think you can survive whatever this is.”

Franc turned.

Walked over.

Sat beside me again.

“Yam,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“If I stay... can we start over? Like, actually know each other—not just share candy and flirting?”

“I want that,” I said.

He smiled. A real one. No charm, no smirk. Just... warmth.

“Then I’ll stay,” he whispered.

And just like that, the morning stopped being just another Tuesday.

It became the beginning.

Of something neither of us could name yet.

✨ Want to keep going with Part 5 next? We can explore what Yam and Franc discover about each other, how they navigate real connection, and whether fate’s yamot gives them a break—or throws them a new twist. Ready when you are 🌻