[Nguyen]

"That's your sister?" I asked under my breath, turning to Brendon who was showing me to his room. "I can see why you guys don't get along." He didn't reply.

Shin and I tailed him as we climbed the stairs to the third floor and took a right to his room. It was only when he closed the door behind us that he got to explaining. "Look, it's not that we don't get along."

"Then?"

Brendon fell spread-eagled on his bed, mumbling into his pillow. "I just don't see her often, that's all. And like, I've always been the one giving in when she goes on about God. Whatever opinion I have doesn't get to her. Shit, I don't even know if my opinion matters."

"Of course it doesn't," I hurled his hopes into the abyss in a mere instant. "She came home just to ask if the school did something about the complaint your family filed. That's dumbshit."

Brendon shrugged, hands dangling over the edge of his bed as he tried to search for the duffel bag that he'd kept my portable charger in. Shin stood awkwardly by the door, characteristically uncomfortable with the sudden change of mood.

"So? What are you going to tell her?" I prompted, spotting a beanbag by the window and drifting automatically towards it. "I don't know how you're going to do it, but just because someone doesn't believe in your God doesn't make them any less beautiful a human being." Burst of unknown philosophy. It's rarely me, you see—it's just the one writing me. You know what I mean.

"Okay but Nguyen. You see, that's not what we believe in...or my family does, at least. They believe that those who do not acknowledge Christ as our Lord and Saviour will go to hell. That's it." Brendon handed me the portable charger I'd lent him, thankfully protected by an air-tight plastic. I threw the latter in a nearby bin.

"Your family can believe in whatever they like," I laid out plainly. "It's the imposing of personal beliefs on others that I don't get. Oh, and thanks for placing this in a plastic. You're not so bad after all."

Shin laughed and Brendon only rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Get out of my house."

"Thank you."

"Yes, thank you—I don't want to stay any longer."

Brendon showed us out of his room and down the stairs; spewing some last-minute nonsense about parties, trying to convince us to attend the one tomorrow night. We arrived back in the living room, and I was already trying to search for the front door when Brendon's sister appeared out of nowhere with a tray of cupcakes.

He froze.

"Oh, are your friends going already?" Rachel sounded like the main scare of a horror movie trying to prevent the visitors from leaving. No kidding. "I was going to bring some snacks up to your room."

I heard her brother curse under his breath, and looked at him weird. What's so bad about the cupcakes? I mean, they look kinda good. Being very honest here.

"Uh, yeah. They just came to borrow my...my notes."

Shin coughed very loudly and Brendon elbowed him in the side. I almost laughed.

"Ah...well it wouldn't hurt for you to stay a little longer?" Rachel smiled very sweetly and it almost seemed as if I was inside one of my mom's favourite horror series. She has a thing for the slasher-types.

Brendon appeared genuinely concerned for our safety. "Rachel. I, uh...think they really have to go. The bus might be coming soon—"

"Oh the bus? It left the stop seconds ago! You just missed it." I could no longer tell the difference between her truth and lies. It was getting sort of creepy. Nerve-wrecking.

I started to understand why Brendon didn't necessarily want to have a conversation about God with his sister.

"Perhaps you could stay for a minute and have these for tea? It'll probably take ten more minutes until the next bus arrives after all," Rachel placed the tray of cupcakes on the coffee table and beckoned the three of us to take a seat. "How about a glass of milk to go with the cupcakes? I'll be right back."

Not even Brendon could say a word before his sister answered her own questions and made her own decisions, returning to the kitchen to fetch three glasses of milk. I turned to him with narrowed eyes.

"Okay, like. She's nice but...it's kinda like—"

"Nice with ulterior motives?" Shin put forth without filter, reaching for the cupcake with pink frosting. By this point, one could already tell my inner emotions without my narration. ShoOk.

Rachel's brother did not even bother correcting Shin. "How can you tell?"

"It's not that hard," the Japanese boy squared his shoulders indifferently. "Oh, and just in case you're wondering, that Vera you spoke to today after lunch? She's probably going to ask you to pay for her drinks the next time you see her."

I could tell from the look on his face that Brendon was struggling to take down mental notes. Meanwhile, I took a bite of the chocolate cupcake that I'd picked from the tray. It had very classy white chocolate lace and what looked like edible gold flakes sprinkled over the frosting.

It wasn't too bad. I voiced this aloud.

Brendon's eyes went wide and he glanced over his shoulder to check if Rachel had returned from the kitchen. "You don't want to say that when she's around. Trust me, if my sister hears anything apart from 'the best', she goes—"

"I'm back!" Rachel announced as she re-entered the living room with three glasses of milk on a tray. "Oh! I see you've tried the cupcakes," she beamed. "Aren't the gold sprinkles just absolutely amazing? The chocolate lace is very delicate, mind you. They take lots of time to craft perfectly. And the strawberry cream! Brendon's favourite." She addressed me and Shin respectively, sounding incredibly pleased.

"Yeah! Uh...it's very...m, nice." I glanced sideways at Brendon to check if my comment received a passing grade. He had yet to recover from the fact that Rachel had claimed the strawberry cream to be his favourite. I'm probably not the best judge but it appeared to me that Brendon wasn't even fond of cupcakes.

Well, except the savoury ones he'd tried at Mr. Honeycutt's bakery. Now that's some amazeballs.

"It's fine dear, I see you don't have a sweet tooth. Everyone loves the chocolate ganache—it's the best they've ever tasted!"

I was like: okay...um, sure. Nevertheless, I didn't want to offend her, so. "Yeah, uh...definitely!"

Rachel seemed to approve of my comment and before she could turn to the real food critic (aka Yamazaki MasterChef Shin), Brendon sort of propelled us out of the door. Forcefully.

"Man, it's been a long day guys. I'm sure you gotta revise for Saturday classes, huh? Yeah, and the...uh, test on Monday. Gotta ace that!" He laughed stiffly and said the most uncharacteristic words I've ever heard. I sometimes think I suck at writing fanfics because of this reason. I'm not exactly the best at grasping the personalities of characters (or any other human being for the matter) and end up writing them OOC.

I've got an entire folder for my trashfics.

"Sure. Yeah, I have essays to write for Saturday class..." I faked an excuse, not wanting to sound impolite either. "Thanks for the hospitality, Rachel. And uh, see you on Monday. Brendon."

"I'll walk you guys to the gate." You better. I've got a ton of questions in my head and I don't know what to do with this shit.

We turned to give Rachel a final wave before setting off. Brendon launched into an explanation as soon as we were out of earshot.

"Thanks for covering. She comes by with cakes and stuff on rare occassions but I hate—"

"It's all homemade though, right? You shouldn't say mean things. It's the thought that counts," I pointed out. Brendon frowned.

"That's not the point," he corrected, unlocking the gate with a pin number. "It's the compliments she gets out of it. I fucking swear. She only does it for good news. I'm probably not the best person to say this but she has some sort of complex. I don't know what, 'cuz we really barely talk, but she has this..." Brendon held up his hands in defeat. "I don't know, man. I really don't know. Just get out of here while you can."

Shin and I were ushered out of the monster house, safely out on the curb once more. "Sorry to hear all that," was all I managed to come up with, patting him on the back like real bros do. Yeah, I'm a true bro.

"See ya," I started down the hill. "Thanks for the time."

"Bye."

"Goodbye Brendon. I will always remember you. Thank you for all that you have done and the cupcakes your sister shared and the words of—"

"Stop, Shin."

"Okay."

*

In my head, I was preparing an essay's-worth of character analysis regarding Brendon's sister when Shin interrupted my thoughts with a single sentence that summed up my feelings. Bummer. Well, he is the top student in English for a reason.

"Brendon's sister...her cupcakes looked familiar."

I paused. "You mean, the one's we saw at display in the first bakery? The one with the rude cashier and pink sex-shop—I, uh, I mean..." Lol, thank the holy gay bells it was Shin I was talking to. At least he was familiar with what went on in my mind. I remember when he actually flew back to Japan got me an entire box of BL manga I had been eyeing for the longest time for my birthday.

I almost registered our marriage right there and then. Best birthday ever.

"Brendon doesn't seem to notice," Shin ignored the latter part of my statement, implying that he somehow agreed but was too shy to actually voice his opinion aloud. I wonder what kind of face he made when he paid for all my rated books of two men/boys going at it.

"I doubt he would. Come on Shin, he doesn't even notice that all his exes look the same and are after the same thing."

"True."

"Anyway," I reared off-topic, having come up with a solution to counter the complaint that Brendon's family had filed having learnt that there was absolutely no chance they would take back their words. "I have an idea."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[Chip]

The day of Giselle's surgery approached fast. I brought her down to the hospital for check-ups on the days leading up to it, just to ensure that everything was alright and that she could familiarize herself with the sounds and nurses before the surgery. After all, it was going to be the first thing she would see very soon, given that the surgery was a success.

We were bent on searching for the best specialist and surgeon for Giselle (which therefore meant that our combined savings were...uh...hm...not in a very good state) over the past couple of months, so as to ensure that she regained her vision.

Xander however, was not too happy with his sister's cheeky escapade last Friday night when she sort of interrupted our, um, p-private time on the couch. Yes.

"She could have delayed that for like, five minutes or something," my husband had accused with a growl, coming from behind with a hug after I'd finished applying her eye cream.

I blushed. "Wouldn't that be a lot worse? I-I mean, she would be interrupting at, well, at a more...a...at a bad time." Xander laughed and did not buy my reasoning.

"Are you saying I can't make you come in five minutes?"

!!!

"N-no! Of course not—as in! I wasn't referring to that at all!"

"So...you admit that I can?" My husband had on his signature smirk and I was not going to entertain him any longer.

"Goodbye," I concluded, walking out of the master bedroom with a face redder than any strawberry. Xander was laughing and I could hear him coming up from behind (probably to carry me back to bed, but oh well...I doubt I can do anything about that). He lifted me off my feet and brought me back to our room, dropping me on the bed. See? I was right.

Xander closed and locked the door behind him. "This better work, or I'm claiming Giselle to have a third eye or something. I swear, she sees through walls."

"And people," I laughed, hiding under the covers.

*

The immediate day before Giselle's surgery was a strange one. I was preparing a simple porridge meal for dinner when Xander came home with a huge grin on his face, calling for me all over the house.

"I'm obviously in the kitchen!" I huffed as soon as he was within earshot, and my husband came barging into my (our, but most mine hehe) kitchen with an unusual folder in his hands. Unusual because Xander was never one to carry folders or any form of paper around, often saying that he had had enough of the years sorting through and reading business reports. 

"Sorry Angel. Come here, you've got to see this."

I paused, gesturing to the pot of rice porridge on the stove. "But! But I'm making dinner...I don't want the porridge to burn." I added bits of cooked salmon to the pot and stirred once more.

"The deputy headmaster called me to his office today."

"W-what?" I turned around, all ears. "Again?"

Xander held up the folder and I was even more concerned. "More complaints? No way..."

He laughed with a shake of his head, taking several papers out before proceeding to read parts of it.

"'You have my thanks for assisting Elizabeth Lien in achieving her goal of losing two pounds over the span of two months and for keeping her fit and healthy' bullshit! Elizabeth is a cheerleader, isn't she? She's always been watching over her weight," my husband cracked up once more, leaning over the kitchen counter. "There's more."

"'Finn has been increasingly helpful with the household chores and no longer leaves his socks lying around the house. I am grateful for your thorough discipline and strict conduct on the students'," he turned to me, trying hard not to laugh but I was the first who did. "Is Finn some sort of dog?"

"It sounds like they wrote it themselves! Aren't they your students from 3A?" I said while adding more salmon bits, wondering if Giselle would notice if I put in a pinch of spring onions.

Xander shuffled a couple of the papers and started reading another one. "There's some for you too. 'My son Evans has been particularly helpful in the kitchen over the week, and has made dinner for the past couple of days despite having never stepped into the kitchen. He tells me that you have thought him the basics of cooking, and has given him consistent encouragement throughout your home economics lessons. This, I believe, has made him increasingly confident in his culinary skills.'"

This, I couldn't help but laugh. "Evans? How—"

"Nguyen's mother sent something about her helping with the cooking as well. That she no longer spends hours locked in her room, staring at the computer screen," my husband collected three sets of cutlery from the drawers and began setting the table.

"Nguyen? But she's always been so good with cooking!" I shook my head and Xander laughed with a shrug, commenting briefly on their lack of creativity.

Berry came running into the living room and jumping onto the couch, barking for her meal. Turning off the flame and giving my hands a quick rinse, I filled her food and water bowl while she waited obediently with a wagging tail.

"The point is, these were sent to the school. More than ten of them. I don't know how they did it, but the deputy headmaster had these printed out and handed to me. You can guess how speechless I was," Xander said after setting the table, pulling out a carton of juice from the fridge. "It was the funniest shit I ever read, but that's only because we've taught these students personally and there's just no fucking way these are written by their parents."

"What did the vice principal say? A-and the discipline mistress?" I was anxious and strangely excited.

"He said that it was really strange how these letters of praise flowed in batches but he couldn't argue since they were all sent from their parents' emails. These kids...I swear," he laughed again. "All these praises shut the rest of the school's committee up. No one's even sent so many at once before, and not a whole lot of teachers receive praise from parents, so I guess you can say they were envious."

I could feel my chest swell hopefully. "Does that mean the complaint...?"

"I would like to say it's in the bin but I can't," my husband planted a kiss on my forehead and grabbed a fresh towel from the line in our backyard. "They'll probably realize that it's trash soon anyway. Don't worry about it Angel."

"Alright. Quick, take a shower and come down for dinner!"

"Going," he called over his shoulder. "By the way, are we going to have a kid of our own soon? I didn't know they could be this cute."

I pouted in response, claiming that he was a kid himself. Xander did not seem to agree, and only said to wait and see if I would say the same tomorrow morning. I could only hide my face in my hands with a sigh.

*

"Um, I know it's kinda sudden, but," I turned to Xander as we squeezed (mostly Xander because he was tol) into a cab to the hospital. "You seemed really familiar with that new neighbour of ours. Last Friday, I mean."

Xander frowned. "Who?"

"Our new neighbour," I repeated with a huff. "I've been thinking about her for some time." Giselle wriggled her nose, leaning on my shoulder because her brother's 'wasn't as comfy'.

"That's bad. I'm not sure if I can handle my husband having someone else other than me on his mind for 'some time'," Xander was not being very serious, and it made Giselle laugh either way. She was fond of laughing whenever her brother went for cheesy, flirtatious responses.

"I'm being very serious here," I said with a fold of my arms. "Her face looks awfully familiar."

"Angel, I still have completely no idea who you're talking about," my husband leaned back, placing his free arm over his sister's shoulder. She wriggled out of it.

"The lady who said we were brothers," I figured was the only way his mind would register a face and begin searching for some sort of recollection. "She seems a little religious."

"A little?" Giselle made a face. Xander laughed.

"Okay, yeah. What about her? Think I answered the door one time, and she gave us a box of cupcakes. Just an ordinary neighbour...trying to impose her religious beliefs. Aren't all neighbours like that? Meddling in the affairs of others."

I sensed a spark of recognition. "Oh! The nice lady who gave us the cupcakes."

"Don't think she was all that nice, Angel." Xander wasn't buying my judgement and seemed adamant on his own opinion of her. "She tried to flirt with your husband—in your face. Not nice. Husband does not approve."

"O-okay, yes, but—"

"So you were jealous?" Xander smirked, reaching over to pinch my cheek but I pulled away just in time to dodge the attack. "Aw, cute."

"I wasn't, um. Maybe. Just a little..."

He raised his brow. Giselle raised both of hers, as though trying to mimic her brother. How she seemed to know what he was doing, I had no clue.

"O-okay, a lot, but—"

"Aaww," both siblings went at the same time, and I gave up.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

To whomever it may concern,

My daughter Nguyen Thi Anh from junior class 3A has of recent, spoken highly of her gym instructor and substitute home economics teacher. It has come to my attention that Thi Anh has begun to make drastic changes to her daily routine and even puts in effort to help out with the household chores.

I often encourage her to spend her time outdoors and go for a jog every Sunday morning but Thi Anh has never taken my advice, relying on excuses such as having no time, or that she would collapse from the exercise. Recently however, my daughter has (without my prompting) started to disclipine herself by cycling to school and making her own breakfast. Thi Anh rarely chooses to take her bike anywhere when there is an option to take the bus instead, and often skips breakfast. She tells me that her substitute home economics teacher has taught her how to make a simple, savory breakfast and makes it a point to ensure that his family has a nutritious start to their day, and this has encouraged her to do the same.

Most importantly, my girl who hates any form of exercise has asked if she could sign up for volleyball practice. When I asked why, she claimed that it was the only sport she had confidence in because her gym instructor made an effort to coach the weaker students during the volleyball module their class had signed up for. I understand that Thi Anh might not necessarily be the best student when it comes to gym, which is why coaching her would require a great amount of time and patience. My daughter says that she is afraid of letting her teachers down when they put so much effort in teaching her, and therefore feels the need to produce results.

It is my first, as Thi Anh's mother, to see a difference in her lifestyle—something that her father and I have hoped for and have always encouraged her to do. I was afraid that she would be lonely at home as the only child and with both her parents out at work till late at night. While her race and skin color have been one of our underlying concerns as well, I am glad to see that the school has been treating her well despite her differences. Thank you for taking good care of our daughter and always doing your best to guide her in her growth.

Sincerely,

Nguyen Thi Phuong Thao

Mother of Nguyen Thi Anh

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Hello! Cuppie is aware that not many readers read A/Ns, so it's alright if you wish to skip this one. It's kinda important though, especially for those sparing few who have complained about the recent shift of perspective from Chip and Xander's POV to the POV of others. I shall explain why this is significant, if not necessary in the narrative—and also in achieving what I aim to do that other romance writers don't.

This isn't your typical shit romance, okay?

If you're looking for a stack of cheesy happiness and tons of sex, look somewhere else. I'm sorry. It was never meant to be something like that. We've been through more than 80 chapters of Xander and Chip and I believe there are less than 5 sex scenes, so it's kinda clear where we're going. If you wanted a book filled with sex (and sometimes bad grammar :D), you would have left long time ago.

I truly, respectfully believe that each and every one of you reading this are here for the emotions and the characters that all of us feel for—Xander, Chip and Giselle. This however, extends beyond that.

Because Xander and Chip are now a married couple in this book, it is necessary that I establish something important: they are no longer two people, but one. This family of ours, the one that I have been writing about, will make their impact on the people around them, together.

The union of two separate beings will, and is supposed to, allow Bakers to understand the core of what marriage entails—becoming one.

This 'becoming' however, does not only include Xander and Chip.

It includes everyone on Xander's family, and everyone on Chip's family. Their lives have joined together to beocme one, wholesome part. We cannot leave out what Xander is doing with his life to look at Chip's and we can no longer leave out what Chip is doing to look at Xander's. They are, for all intents and purposes, one.

This can only be emphasized by how the characters IN THE BOOK view and treat Xander and Chip (as a married couple).

These two no longer influence and affect the people around them as two separate beings, but as one. Together, they make an impact on the lives of others—be it their students, Chip's customers, Xander's colleagues, their ex-high school, or even the strangers across the road.

What Xander and Chip does not know is that Nguyen's mother wrote the letter of praise out of her own will, and not because Nguyen begged her to do it, or that Nguyen actually wrote it herself. It was a letter of truth and honesty. Yes, meant to help Xander and Chip in one way or another because Nguyen must have told her mother about their plight, but nevertheless—true.

There will be increasing levels of larger perspectives in order to capture the true essence of Xander and Chip's influence on the other characters in this series, and how they will come to change because of a two, small existences.

This is a story of what two existences can do.

More than romance, more than 'true love', more than anything else,

It is about the strength of us as human beings,

Braving through our darkest times.

Thank you for reading, as always.

-Cuppiecake

P.S next week's the disneyland chapter, so it might be kinda long. Hmm.