Prologue: Ang Kuwento Bago ang Unang Sip
(The Story Before the First Sip)
Sa isang maliit na sulok ng Quezon City, mayroong isang kapehan na hindi lang tinutubuan ng mga halaman sa labas-kundi pati ng mga pangarap.
Café La Luna wasn't special at first glance. Its walls, painted the color of roasted beans, bore scratches from years of hurried customers. The floor tiles near the counter were chipped where impatient heels had tapped, waiting for kape't pandesal. But if you stayed past the morning rush, you'd notice two things: the smell of sinag (sunlight) mixing with espresso, and the way time seemed to slow when the owner's daughter, Alina, laughed.
Meanwhile, six blocks away, a 24-year-old Marco Santos stared at his laptop screen, his thesis on Philippine folklore glaring back. "Walang progress..." he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. His lola's voice echoed in his head: "Anak, kailangan mo ng kapeng matapang para sa mga kwentong matapang." (You need strong coffee for strong stories.) Reluctantly, he packed his bag. Coffee shop it is.
Neither knew that afternoon would change everything.
But Café La Luna had a habit of collecting stories. The faded guestbook under the counter held confessions from shy sweethearts, doodles from bored students, and coffee stains that looked like hearts if you squinted. The shop's creaky wooden door? It had a knack for swinging open just as the ulan began to fall, guiding soggy souls toward warmth.
And so, on a Thursday dripping with rain and possibilities, fate brewed something stronger than espresso.