Though the entire team was utterly exhausted from going through so many barangays and wave after wave of love from the people, no amount of fatigue could match the warmth of the welcome in San Francisco, San Nicolas, and Balas.
When we arrived at the venue for the miting de avance, you could immediately feel the unique heat of the night, not from the weather, but from the people who had been waiting, even if the campaign had already passed by multiple times before.
The covered court was packed, not just with bodies, but with feeling, anticipation, and faith.
Families brought food, drinks, and bouquets once more.
Just like during the house-to-house, the place became a little general store of gratitude.
Mayor could barely get inside because so many people wanted a hug, a handshake, a photo.
As Mayor's jingle blared from big speakers, young people danced, elders waved from the sides, and mothers held their children close—pointing and saying: "That's the Mayor. Remember him."
And when he finally spoke, there was no more space in the court, but a hush fell.
"I didn't expect that at this hour, on a night like this, you would all choose to be here, to listen, to stand with us. San Francisco, I won't ever forget you. This day will stay with me forever. And if I'm lucky enough to return to service, we won't be starting from scratch, we'll be starting in the middle of the trust you've long given."
His words were simple, but every line cut straight to the heart. Many people cried, held on to one another, and finally shouted in unison:
"IBALIK ANG PULA! MAYOR ANDY!"
We went straight to the next miting de avance venue, this time in Barangay San Nicolas, Balas.
Even though it was already late at night, people hadn't left.
They kept listening, kept watching, clearly waiting for Mayor.
And in the middle of all the festive chaos, there was an even bigger surprise, Aljur Abrenica, a well-known actor, arrived to show his support for Team Anjo.
The crowd instantly recognized him.
Screams and giggles erupted. Some even jumped up and down, waved, or tried to take selfies from afar.
"That's Aljur! Oh my God, it's Aljur!" one woman squealed, giddy.
Aljur stepped onto the stage, wearing a simple but meaningful red shirt.
He smiled at the crowd and spoke gently into the mic:
"I'm here not as an actor, but as an ordinary person who admires a true leader. That's why I'm here for Mayor Andy."
They hugged onstage and raised their joined hands to the roar of applause.
But even with a celebrity there, it was still Mayor Andy the people wanted most.
Their attention quickly returned to him. He wasn't just their leader, he was their hope, their promise, the memory of service they never forgot.
One man even approached wearing a mask of Mayor's face, raising the Mayor's real hand in the air, as if declaring:
"This is the real star."
Mayor looked around.
The people pressing to get closer, children clutching campaign stickers, elders still waving from the back, and Aljur Abrenica standing quietly to one side, smiling and nodding at him.
Holding the microphone, Mayor took a deep breath and spoke:
"Balas, I don't even know how to say everything that's in my heart right now. Night after night, you give me reasons not to stop, to stay true, to continue what we've started."
Someone in front shouted:
"Ibalik ang Pula, Mayor!"
Mayor smiled and went on.
"Your support, from the simplest garland lei to your loudest cheers, I will never forget. And to Aljur, thank you, brother. You didn't just make me happy tonight—you showed our people what it means to stand on the right side, not just as an actor, but as a citizen with a heart for this country."
Aljur nodded, and the whole crowd erupted in applause.
But it wasn't the applause of an audience—it was the applause of unity.
"Balas, I might not be able to visit you every day, but we pray you feel our love in every project built here, in every child who got to study, in every senior citizen we reached out to help."
That day felt like a celebration of trust, faith, and love.
And even with a celebrity in their midst, the light of a leader they truly loved could not be overshadowed.
And at the very end of the program, while the entire Team Anjo posed for photos, Mayor himself called on supporters to come up and join them onstage.
There was no VIP section.
No "us" and "them."
Everyone was one.
Everyone was equal.
This wasn't a typical miting de avance.
It was a true celebration of love, a genuine union of leader and people.
Before leaving, Mayor reached into his pocket and pulled out the rosary a woman had given him just earlier.
He gazed at it and slowly raised it to his lips.
He whispered a quiet prayer:
"Lord, if this is the last night of campaigning, let it be the start of something new. Not for me, but for the people."
And in the middle of raucous applause, cheering, and well-wishes, the night ended full of hope.
This wasn't an ending.
It was a continuation of love, trust, and conviction.
Because if there is a barangay like San Francisco that can love like this, the true voice of the people can never be defeated.