[COMPLETED] Love is like a book, where each chapter unfolds new pages of joy and sorrow, revealing new people that may stand as a lesson and twists that strengthen our understanding and attachment, eventually weaving a sole, unequaled, and intricate story of love, growth, and life. Would Sixto Basaltta be capable of fixing the torn pages of his book of love towards a woman who writes her own story?

[COMPLETED] Love is like a painting, where each moment adds a new layer of color and texture, like happiness and pain, blending the bright hues of joy and the dark hues of sadness, with the softer tones of understanding and the rougher tones of grief, gradually creating a unique masterpiece that reflects the depth and intricacy of a shared journey. Just like how soft Sakivino Basaltta's brush strokes, would he be able to paint his love on a grand canvas?

COMPLETED The best part of love is capturing all the bliss, grief, blues, and felicities, and put it on a frame where you can reminisce the entire moments like a film on the cinema. But just like how Savino Basaltta's camera survived all the love and pain, the hatred and the hope, the courage and the cowardice, the innocence and the guilt, would he withstand everything for the second time around? Or would everything be abandoned as a mere photograph?