Lahat ng Kabanata ng letters that staved: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Franc was stretched across my bench like he owned it. Eyes closed, breathing steady, mouth slightly parted. Just there… looking like a scene out of some indie film where the mysterious stranger sleeps under streetlights and steals hearts by accident.“Are you seriously planning to sleep there?” I asked, squinting.He didn’t move. Didn’t open his eyes. Just said, “Obvious ba? I’m already lying down.”The nerve. Was he always this blunt?“I swear, you’re kind of rude in person,” I snapped. “Fine. Good luck waking up dangling again like cheap Christmas decor.”He still didn’t flinch. Just curled into himself like a kid resisting bedtime.I looked at him—properly, now that we weren’t hanging out in the dark alley of potential hauntings.His lashes were long. The kind you don’t notice at first, but then they hit you. His lips were soft and pouty, but not in a try-hard way. In a way that made you wonder if they knew secrets. His collarbone peeked out from his shirt, and I felt a weird need

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 everythingI 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

Let’s keep this story blooming, 🌼! We're entering Part 6 now, and it’s time to shake things up. In this chapter, Yam and Franc take a leap into the world outside their cozy bubble. But new places mean new faces—and one of them holds a piece of Franc's tangled past. Let’s see what unfolds when comfort meets complication.We didn’t plan the day. It just happened.Franc was scrolling through his cracked phone while I dug through my closet like I was preparing for a music video shoot. We weren’t going on a date—not officially. We were just “going out.” But I still wanted to look like I knew how to make sunlight jealous.“You like stripes or solids?” I asked, holding up two shirts like they were celebrity guests.Franc didn’t even look. “Whichever makes you feel invincible.”The audacity. The charm. I chose stripes.We grabbed street food—kwek-kwek, fishballs, and those mystery burgers that defy both science and stomach logic. Franc ate with unapologetic enthusiasm, like he hadn’t tasted

💥 Let’s jump into Part 8,—the emotional collision where Yam and Franc face the past that unexpectedly links them both. Isa's return adds weight to every word, and we’ll explore how this meeting shifts everything: the vibe, the trust, even the future. Ready? Here we go.The coffee on the table was untouched. Steam rose and curled into ghost shapes before dissolving into the silence between us.Franc stood near the window again, arms crossed. I sat on the edge of the couch like it was the last safe place left in the apartment.Isa was late.Or maybe she wasn’t.Maybe time just slowed down around her name.I stared at the message again. “I heard you ran into Franc. I think we need to talk.”How long had she been watching from afar? How long had we been walking through each other’s histories without knowing?Then—the knock came.Three soft taps.My stomach dropped.Franc turned, eyes unreadable.I got up and opened the door.Isa stood there. A little older. A little sharper. Same eyes. S

🌙 Let’s flow into Part 10, —where Yam and Franc navigate the space between old wounds and new possibilities. After the conversation with Isa, something shifts. Trust begins to grow roots. But life doesn’t wait around for perfect timing—and neither do feelings.We didn’t talk about Isa for two days.Not because we were ignoring what happened—but because we were letting the dust settle.Franc slept over again, but this time, it was different. He didn’t ask about the electric fan. He didn’t tease. He just... showed up. Quiet. Present. Like he’d finally figured out how to stop hovering and start belonging.I caught him cleaning dishes once—badly, using way too much soap.“You’re flooding the kitchen,” I told him.He grinned. “We’re just adding ambiance.”I rolled my eyes and took over. But inside, I was smiling. Because chaos in the kitchen was still better than silence in my heart.“I was thinking,” Franc said while drying a bowl with a shirt he definitely shouldn’t be using, “What happ