The sun is barely up, but the market is already alive with chatter, the scent of fresh fish, and the earthy aroma of vegetables. Isagani Vergara stands behind his stall, arms crossed, watching the early customers approach. His sharp eyes scan the crowd as he adjusts a basket of tilapia.

"Hoy, Aling Marta! You better not ask for utang again today, ha!" He said, his brows furrowed as usual.

"Isagani, anak, just one more time—" The woman was cut off when someone stood behind her, eyeing the vegetables and fishes.

Isagani huffed, waving his hand and the flies fled. "May bibilihin ka ba?" He asked.