Semua Bab letters that staved: Bab 11 - Bab 20

🌟 Here we go with Part 12, —where Yam and Franc take another leap into vulnerability. Their days together are no longer just about staying afloat—they’re about building something that lasts, even when the past comes back with unexpected questions. Let’s uncover what happens when love starts asking for more.It was Franc’s idea to visit my aunt.That alone should’ve been a red flag, but he insisted.“She raised you,” he said. “I want to meet the woman responsible for all this spicy sarcasm.”“She thinks I’m cursed,” I replied, deadpan.“She’ll love me then. I’m chaos in expensive shoes.”We took a jeepney to her house. The ride was bumpy, filled with the scent of gasoline and churchgoers. Franc sat beside me like he’d done it his whole life, even though I knew most of his world was wrapped in urban shadows and unspoken exits.“She’s very blunt,” I warned.“So am I,” he said.“She collects crucifixes and cats.”“I have good reflexes.”“Don’t say anything about ghosts.”“Too late. I bro

🌻 Let’s move into Part 14,—where the sunrise over Baler isn't just warm light, but a slow unveiling of the life Yam and Franc are now building. Their new rhythm isn’t perfect, but it’s theirs: full of salt-air beginnings, small victories, and the kind of comfort that only comes from choosing each other, every day.The mornings in Baler didn’t come quietly.The roosters screamed like unpaid backup singers, the neighbors played early 2000s hits at full blast, and the sea made itself known with crashing, relentless waves. But somehow, Yam had learned to love it.Franc, though, hated the roosters.“I swear they plot against me,” he grumbled, dragging himself out of bed one day, hair wild, shirt half off his shoulder.“They probably sense your city-boy energy,” Yam teased, sipping coffee from his now-famous mug—the one Franc had accidentally used during Mug-Gate.The house they rented wasn’t much: one squeaky door, flickering lights, a leaky roof during heavy rain. But every imperfection

🌺 Buckle up for Part 16, —where Yam and Franc’s life in Baler takes an unexpected turn. Not dramatic. Not dangerous. Just... deeper. Because sometimes, the biggest shifts come on days when the sky looks ordinary and nobody expects the heart to do anything brave.The morning was unusually quiet.No roosters in full concert mode. No neighbors singing karaoke before breakfast. Just wind—slow and steady—like the world had pressed pause.Yam woke first.He padded across the cool floor, opened the door, and stood outside watching a coconut leaf dance in the breeze. His shirt was three sizes too big. His heart felt just right.Inside, Franc was still asleep—one arm sprawled, lips slightly parted, hair defying gravity. Yam knew he could wake him with one gentle nudge. But he didn’t.Instead, he made coffee.By the time Franc stirred, Yam had set up breakfast: toasted bread, leftover tuyo, and mango slices that looked like sunshine in fruit form.Franc sat down, groggy but smiling.“You’re su

🌬️ You got it, —welcome to Part 18, where the ripple effect of Yam and Franc’s story begins to reach beyond the walls of their bungalow. It’s about connection, vulnerability, and discovering that when you’re brave enough to be seen, the world sometimes shows up with open arms.The mural still leaned against the wall, drying beneath the soft hum of Sir Spins-a-lot. Yam kept glancing at it—not just because it looked beautiful, but because it felt like memory now. A tangible proof that something had happened, that something had grown.Messages kept coming.One local café wanted Yam’s poem printed on their menus. A teacher asked if Franc could run a weekend workshop for teenagers who scribbled dreams on sidewalks. Their inbox wasn’t overflowing—but it was enough to make them pause. To wonder.“Is this what happens after you show your heart to strangers?” Yam asked one morning, mixing powdered milk into coffee.Franc nodded. “Apparently, they send stickers and commissions.”Yam laughed. “

🌻 Let’s gently ease into Part 20, —a quiet but rich moment where Yam and Franc begin to realize that healing isn’t linear, and even soft love has edges. This chapter peels back a little more of Yam’s heart, revealing a piece he’s never quite put into words before. It’s about being seen—even when you’re not ready.The stars over Baler blinked like they knew something Yam and Franc didn’t.They sat outside, wrapped in hoodies and a blanket they hadn’t washed in weeks. The surf echoed in the background, rhythmic and forgiving.Yam held a mug of lukewarm tea. Franc sat beside him, tracing lazy patterns on the bamboo armrest.“I’ve been thinking,” Yam said suddenly, eyes on the horizon. “About all the things I never told anyone.”Franc didn’t speak. He knew when Yam needed silence to shape his truths.“I never liked mirrors,” Yam admitted. “They never showed me what I wanted to see.”Franc turned to look at him.“I don’t mean looks,” Yam added quickly. “I mean… me. I never saw someone I c