Prologue

> "Love is like a loaded gun—sometimes, you don’t realize it’s aimed at your own chest."

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San Roque, Batangas

11:47 PM.

Rainfall: heavy. Visibility: low. Target: inside.

Ravi delos Reyes stood under a broken streetlamp across Café Ligaya, rain dripping off his hood like the world was slowly trying to wash him away.

He'd been undercover for two weeks now — posing as a harmless tambay, jobless and forgettable. The truth? He was on a deep cover operation to investigate Raul “Kalbo” Montañez, an infamous trafficker with suspected links to several small towns across Southern Luzon.

But tonight, his mission wasn’t about Kalbo.

It was about her.

Asha Rivera — café owner, target’s niece by blood, or maybe just a pawn in the bigger game.

The agency wasn’t sure. But Ravi’s gut told him something else: she didn’t belong in this mess.

She was smart. Sharp-tongued. And too genuine to fake the way she laughed or the way she handed him leftovers each afternoon, pretending not to care.

> “Keep eyes on the girl,” barked Uncle Pido’s voice through his comms. “No contact unless confirmed hostile. Copy?”

Ravi didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed locked on Asha’s silhouette inside the café, her outline flickering under the soft yellow lights. She wiped down the counter like she did every night, humming to herself as if the world outside wasn’t drowning.

He exhaled. “Copy.”

But it was a lie.

Because the real danger wasn’t what Asha might be hiding.

It was what she was slowly unlocking — in him.

---

He remembered the first time she talked to him like he mattered. No pity. No fear. Just that signature sarcasm.

> “Kuya, you again? You planning to haunt this sidewalk forever?”

> “Maybe. Rent’s cheap.”

> “Well, if you die there, I’m charging you for the space.”

And just like that, he laughed — really laughed — for the first time in months.

That was the moment Ravi realized: she wasn’t part of the case. She was the turning point.

---

Now, as the café’s lights turned off one by one and Asha locked the doors, Ravi tensed.

Because tonight wasn’t like the others.

He had intel: a drop-off was happening nearby. A transfer. Possible armed suspects.

And Asha?

She was walking home. Alone. Straight into the dark.

Ravi’s hand hovered near his hidden sidearm as he stepped out into the rain, following her from a distance — quiet, careful, watching every shadow.

He wasn’t supposed to care.

He wasn’t supposed to break cover.

But if anything happened to her…

He would pull that trigger — mission be damned.

Because somewhere between pretending to be nobody,

and watching her live like nothing was wrong…

He forgot how to stay detached.

---

Tomorrow, someone will disappear.

In seven days, someone will die.

And by the end of it all… love will be the most dangerous thing left standing.

(here we go)

"THE CUP THAT STARTED A WAR"

San Roque, Batangas – (10:23 AM)

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The smell of brewed barako coffee, baked cheese rolls, and fish drying in the distance wrapped around the town of San Roque like a warm, familiar hug.

Café Ligaya, a cozy shop with mint-colored walls and capiz shell windows, sat right at the edge of the palengke and the jeepney terminal — perfect for both chismis and caffeine.

And on a faded blue crate just outside the café, sat a man who looked like he hadn’t slept in years.

Ravi delos Reyes.

To the world, he was just another tambay with messy hair, slippers, and a backpack that probably smelled like sardinas.

To the agency, he was Agent 7R, elite surveillance, highly trained in infiltration, and currently blending in by pretending to care about a cheese roll.

His target?

She came out the café door holding a tray and looking like she had better things to do than deal with weird men loitering on the sidewalk.

Asha Rivera.

The kind of woman who could ruin your life and not even break a sweat. Black apron. Witty glare. Headphones in one ear. Hair in a bun that screamed “productive, pero galit.”

She dropped a semi-hard pan de coco on a napkin next to Ravi without even looking at him.

“Kuya, that’s yesterday’s. Don’t sue.”

Ravi blinked up at her. “Are you an angel? Or just someone who feeds stray humans out of guilt?”

Asha rolled her eyes. “Neither. You’re just bad for business. People don’t like sipping caramel macchiato beside a walking disaster.”

“Then I shall position myself three steps to the left. For your reputation, of course.”

She gave him a deadpan stare. “You always this weird?”

“Only to women who offer me free bread.”

She smirked — just a little — then walked back inside.

Ravi watched her go. His fake beard itched. His real interest didn’t.

---

> “Agent 7R, what’s your status?”

The voice in his comms buzzed low. Uncle Pido. Always cranky, always listening.

> “Still on her. Café's routine. Nothing suspicious yet,” Ravi whispered, pretending to yawn.

> “Don't get too comfy. Tip says Kalbo’s people are moving soon — maybe even using the café for drop-offs.”

> “Copy. I’ll stay close.”

> “And stay detached, ha? I know that tone. Don’t fall for the girl.”

Ravi didn’t reply. He just stared into the café window, where Asha was laughing with her coworker, wiping down a table like she didn’t know the world was watching her.

He knew what he was supposed to do.

But he also knew what was coming —

someone in this town would slip soon.

And when they did, Asha might be right in the middle of it.

---

What Ravi didn’t know?

The man watching her from the shadows across the plaza wasn’t from the agency.

And he wasn’t alone.

Game on.

---TO BE CONTINUED---

(THANKS FOR READING)

P

---

The next morning started like any other in San Roque—dogs barking, tricycle horns blaring, and the scent of dried pusit mixing with freshly baked pandesal.

Café Ligaya was already buzzing by 7:00 AM. Inside, Asha Rivera stood behind the counter, hair in a messy ponytail, wearing her “Kape lang, ‘wag landi” shirt. She looked calm.

She was not.

“Bes,” said Mira, her barista-slash-best friend, “guess who’s back again? Mr. Homeless Hot.”

Asha didn’t look up. “He’s not hot.”

“Then why do you always prepare extra cheese rolls when he shows up?”

“It’s called community service.”

Mira grinned. “It’s called may kilig ka.”

Asha rolled her eyes, but her heart betrayed her. Of course she noticed. That weird tambay guy — Ravi, he said his name was — hadn’t missed a single day. Always sitting outside, never ordering anything, but never really doing anything shady either. Just… watching.

It should’ve creeped her out. But something about him made her pause.

Maybe it was the way he looked at people. Like he was always searching for something — or someone.

---

Outside, Ravi watched the café like clockwork, earbuds in, pretending to nod along to a song that didn’t exist.

He was focused. Alert. Calm.

Until a man he didn’t recognize stepped into the café.

Tall. Tan. Wearing dark glasses and an expensive wristwatch that didn’t belong in a small-town coffee shop. Too polished. Too careful.

Red flag.

> “Agent 7R, possible visual. Male, 30s, dressed too clean. Entering Café Ligaya. I’m going in.”

> *“Negative,” Uncle Pido snapped. “No engagement. Just observe.”

But Ravi was already up, brushing crumbs from his shirt and slipping inside the café with practiced ease.

---

Asha looked up the moment Ravi entered, raising a brow. “You again?”

“Today I’m pretending to afford coffee,” he replied smoothly.

“Wow. Big day.”

They shared a short smile — quick, almost nervous — before Ravi turned his attention to the suspicious man by the window.

He wasn’t drinking. Just tapping his fingers on the table. Waiting.

Then, without a word, the man reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a sealed brown envelope, and slid it beneath the napkin holder.

Ravi’s pulse spiked.

A drop.

The man stood, exited calmly, and disappeared down the alley without even glancing back.

Ravi turned to Asha. “Who was that guy?”

Asha blinked. “No idea. First time I’ve seen him. Why?”

Ravi’s voice softened, casual but probing. “He left something.”

Asha glanced at the napkin holder, her fingers already reaching—

“Don’t touch it,” Ravi said, sharper than he meant to.

She froze. “Excuse me?”

He quickly recovered. “I mean—it could be for someone else.”

Asha squinted. “You’re weird again.”

“I’m consistent,” Ravi said, forcing a grin.

---

The envelope sat like a silent bomb between them.

Ravi knew protocol: wait, observe, report. But his instincts screamed louder.

Because if that envelope was tied to Kalbo,

And if Asha got caught in the middle…

She might not walk away clean.

---

> Outside the café, someone else was watching.

A man in a motorcycle helmet, visor down, engine idling.

His finger hovered near a phone… waiting for a signal.

---

Next: Asha opens the envelope — and everything changes.

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