THE rain poured heavily that night, drumming against the tin roofs of Manila as the city fell into restless sleep. Emilio stood by the harbor, the salty breeze mixing with the faint scent of gasoline. In his hand was a single letter—crumpled, as if he'd opened and closed it a thousand times.
It had been years since he last saw Angelo. Years since their final goodbye in that hidden staircase in Intramuros. The war between their families had torn them apart, and Emilio had made peace with the silence that followed. But this letter, delivered anonymously to his father's house, had reignited a long-buried hope.
In the letter, Angelo had written only a few lines:
"If the moon still shines on you as it does on me, meet me where the tides whisper our secret. I'll be waiting."
Now, Emilio waited—heart pounding—with the letter tucked inside his coat. He scanned the docks, every shadow and figure blurred by the rain. And then, he saw him. Angelo stood under the light of a flickering lamppost, soaked but smiling as if no time had passed.
They weren't boys anymore. They carried scars—some visible, others buried deep—but as their eyes met, everything else melted away.
"We've fought so hard to survive," Angelo said, stepping closer. "Don't you think we deserve something good now?"
Emilio nodded, his voice trembling. "If you're with me, I'll fight anyone who says otherwise."
The city's chaos no longer mattered. The families, the rivalry, the past—they would leave it behind. Together, they would build something new, where their love could thrive despite the storms.