A childhood memory.
On an old, worn-out street, a group of teenagers was playing together. At the time, Jay was only around ten years old. His tiny feet hurried toward the group, eyes sparkling with hope.
— "Ying, Kanya… can Jay join you? Please…"
Jay looked up at the older kids, his little face pure and clear like morning dew. His young voice was full of pleading, his eyes innocent, unaware of how cruel the world could be.
— "Play?" — Kanya rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with mockery. — "What do you even want to play?"
— "Anything… anything's fine… I just want to play with you!" Jay quickly replied, flashing his biggest smile, as if afraid of being rejected. He still believed that a sincere smile could soften someone's heart.
Ying stood beside her, eyes hesitant, then spoke in a calm tone:
— "Kanya, let him join us…"
But Kanya remained arrogant, giving Jay a once-over like he was some strange creature intruding on her world.
— "If you want to play, go get that ring for me."
She pointed toward a plastic ring lying in the middle of the street, where traffic passed constantly. Her face was full of challenge, the malicious intent completely unhidden.
Jay followed the direction of her finger, eyes filled with fear. Motorbikes and trucks kept zooming by…
— "But… there are so many cars. I'm scared…" The boy stammered, voice trembling.
— "Then forget it. And who do you think you are to even ask to play with us? Your family's bankrupt now—you should know your place. Don't think you're still some rich kid who can slack off and get by."
Kanya raised her chin arrogantly, her words like knives. Then she grabbed Ying's hand and turned to leave. Jay stood there, shaken, like someone the world had abandoned.
— "Okay… Jay will get it for you…"
He bit his lip, eyes clouded with fear and hopelessness, then slowly walked toward the ring. His small, shaky steps moved into the dangerous street.
Just as he bent down to pick up the ring, a truck barreled down the road. Everything happened in an instant. A shadow rushed in and shoved Jay out of harm's way—it was Toby.
The truck couldn't stop in time. Tires screeched loudly through the air. It hit Toby.
— "Toby!!!"
Jay screamed in terror, his little body tumbling to the ground before scrambling up. On the road, Toby lay there—in a pool of blood, breathing in painful, shallow gasps.
Jay rushed to cradle his dog, sobbing uncontrollably:
— "Toby… Toby, wake up, look at me… Someone, please… someone help Jay…"
The boy cried for help in desperation. But passersby only glanced his way and hurried off. No one wanted to get involved.
Jay looked up at the last two people he could hope for: Ying and Kanya.
— "Brother Ying… Sister Kanya… please help Toby…"
His voice broke into sobs. Ying stood frozen, one foot about to move forward…
— "Ying, let's go! Don't get involved. We'll be in trouble if you do."
Kanya's cold voice cut through. Calculating and selfish. There was no emotion in her eyes.
Ying didn't resist. He only looked back at Jay—a silent, torn gaze. But in the end, he let Kanya pull him away.
— "Please… don't leave me… Brother Ying…"
Jay called after him, his voice softer than the wind. The look in his eyes wasn't just pleading—it was the despair of watching the last glimmer of hope turn its back.
— "Brother Ying… you're cruel… Jay won't play with you anymore…"
He hugged Toby tightly, his entire body trembling. His tiny shoulders curled inward from fear, from pain. No one was there. No one helped.
Amid the noisy, bustling street, little Jay looked as fragile as a piece of paper being crushed by life.
Back to the present.
Inside that small, silent room, the image of a grown man shattered into fragments of memory. Jay — no longer the calm, composed Jay everyone knew — was now crying like the child he once was.
He burst into tears, unable to hold it in. The cry of an adult, yet soaked in the desperation of a child — panicked, hurt, and utterly alone.
Mr. Sakda sat frozen, eyes wide, body motionless as though he had just heard devastating news.
He had never seen his son like this — had never seen Jay cry, let alone break down.
— "You… never told me about this…"
Mr. Sakda finally spoke after a long, heavy silence. His voice was hoarse, heavy with guilt. His tired eyes dropped, avoiding his son's gaze — like a man who had lost all right to call himself a father.
Jay looked up, tears streaming down his face, his voice choked but filled with deep resentment:
— "Do you know… Happy children use their childhood to embrace life. But broken children… they spend their whole life trying to heal from it."
His voice cracked with every breath. Jay could no longer stay composed. The emotional storm inside him surged, threatening to tear down the carefully built mask he'd worn for so long.
— "That's why I never wanted to return to Thailand. I was afraid… Afraid of remembering. Afraid of seeing those people again… of accidentally treating them like family again… only to be trampled all over once more."
Jay clenched his fists, his voice breaking into a scream:
— "I hate them!"
He wasn't shouting out of anger — he had to scream, or else the pain would burst and destroy him from within.
Mr. Sakda remained still. Not because he didn't want to comfort Jay, but because he knew — he had no right to reach out and hold the son who was crying like an abandoned soul.
— "I knew… there was some tension between you and the others. But lately, I thought… things were getting better. I thought you'd made peace… I didn't know it was this bad…"
His voice trembled, his eyes full of defeat. But to Jay, those were just empty excuses.
Jay let out a bitter laugh, voice laced with mockery:
— "You didn't know? That's because of you."
He wiped at his tears, but his hands were shaking.
— "I didn't want to come back here… But I had to. Because I was worried about you. Because you'd be alone. I was scared you'd end up like before… I wanted someone to be with you. I tried to reconnect with them… so maybe, when I'm gone, they'd look after you."
His words stabbed into his own heart. Even Jay wasn't sure if he meant what he said — or if he just needed to say something, anything, to drown out the fire of rage burning him from inside.
— "…"
Ying's silence outside felt like a crushing weight in the air, suffocating the room further.
Jay breathed heavily, trying and failing to steady himself. His eyes bloodshot, throat choked:
— "Do you know how hard it is for me… living here every day, having to face the people who hurt me? Do you know how much pressure that is?"
Each word struck like a verdict. Jay was no longer a begging child. Now, he was someone pronouncing judgment — not because he was stronger, but because he had endured enough.
— "My career, my dreams, my life… my love — none of it belongs here. I can't live here. If you really want me to stay… then just kill me."
The final sentence slashed away whatever hope might have remained in Mr. Sakda's eyes.
Jay turned and walked away. He didn't look back. He didn't care how shattered his father's eyes were — how much pain might be behind him.
At the door, he paused — not out of hesitation, but because he saw Ying standing there.
Jay knew. From beginning to end. Ying had heard everything.
Their eyes met — one frozen like stone, the other cold as ice.
Jay said nothing. No expression. He simply raised a hand… and wiped away the last of his tears, as if wiping away the past itself.
Then walked past Ying — without turning back.
— "Jay…!"
Ying called after him, rushing forward. In that moment, to Ying… Jay looked like a wound walking on its own, leaving a trail of bleeding pain behind.
————————————————————
The sky was dark — no moon, no stars — only the cold wind slipping through the trees and down the empty road that sent chills to the bone.
The echo of hurried footsteps — Ying chasing after Jay — rang out on the cold, damp pavement, mingling with desperate cries and choked sobs, like someone was clawing at his own heart.
— "Jay…"
Ying finally caught up, reaching out to grab Jay's wrist.
Jay flinched, turning around with tear-stained eyes — but his gaze was ice-cold.
— "What?"
His voice cracked.
"Haven't you heard enough? What more do you want?"
Jay yanked his hand away with such force that Ying nearly stumbled. There was no mercy in his eyes.
Ying stood frozen, silent. His eyes never left Jay's face — a face full of fury, pain… and loneliness.
— "Jay… Do you really mean all that?"
Ying swallowed hard, his voice trembling.
— "Do you… really hate me that much?"
It felt like something was crushing his chest. Every word from Jay was a blade slicing into him. But he tried to stay composed.
Jay gave a bitter smile. His lips trembled, but his voice was sharp as steel:
— "Yeah, I do. And I'll never forget what you did to me. Got it?"
He emphasized every word — not for Ying's sake, but for his own. He needed to remind himself: Don't soften. Don't forgive. Don't hurt anymore.
— "I… I'm sorry."
Ying lowered his head. His voice was barely a whisper.
Jay froze for a second. But he quickly shut down that flicker of hesitation with words like a blade:
— "Don't think that what you're doing now — the kindness, the gentleness — can fix what you broke. Can undo the damage. It never will."
— "Do you know how much I hate you?"
Jay hissed every word, yet somehow… the tears still fell.
He hated himself for that. Why did saying such cruel things still hurt so much?
Ying looked up. His eyes were red too.
— "Jay… Do you really think I'm doing all of this just to atone?"
His voice was hoarse. It was as if he was trying to re-examine everything — wondering if his feelings had always been misunderstood.
Jay gave a cold chuckle.
— "Then why else? To win my trust again and stomp on it all over?"
Jay's gaze was freezing, but his fists were clenched tight. Deep down, he knew… Ying didn't deserve words like that. But he couldn't stop anymore. The pain had overflowed.
— "That's not… that's not what I'm doing…"
Ying stammered. He wanted to explain. Wanted to reach out to Jay — but didn't dare touch him.
Jay stared at him with steely resolve:
— "I'm not that 10-year-old kid anymore. I'm not weak anymore. I won't give anyone the power to hurt me again. Not even you."
With that, Jay turned and walked away.
His figure slowly disappeared into the darkness, leaving Ying frozen in place, as if turned to stone.
The wind blew past — sharp and cold. But the coldest thing… was his heart.
A heart that had just lost the one he loved — one more time.
Ying couldn't hold it in any longer.
Tears fell from his eyes too.
————————————————————
Late at night, the entire city seemed to have fallen into slumber. The soft yellow lights reflected off the still surface of the lake like a polished mirror. A gentle breeze skimmed across the water, stirring faint ripples… which faded as if they had never existed.
Jay sat there alone on an old stone bench, clutching the hem of his coat tightly — as if holding onto himself, as if afraid he might shatter if he didn't keep something, anything, close.
His eyes stared out across the lake — blank, hollow. As if searching for something… a moment of silence, a shelter for the soul, or perhaps a person who once made him believe he was worthy of being loved.
But the more he tried to stay calm… the more the tears fell.
There was no one left to see, no one left to scream at… So Jay could only whisper, as if speaking to the reflection of himself in the lake:
— "I really did try… I tried to be forgiving… to be understanding… so many times…"
His voice broke, some words stolen by the night wind.
— "But… the pain is just too big. It's been in my heart for ten years now. Every day… every night… I've had to live with it."
He raised a hand to cover his face, trying to hide the tears that flowed freely now, beyond control.
— "You can't just forget… just because you want to…"
A long silence passed.
Jay took a deep breath, trying to stifle the sob that was stuck in his throat. His eyes were still wet, but the anger had faded. In its place was a deep exhaustion — the kind that only comes from someone who has fought for too long against old wounds.
— "I'm sorry… for being a disappointment."
Jay whispered. It sounded like a confession… but also a quiet farewell — to the person he was yesterday, to the expectations that were never met, and to the people he once called family.
He sat there, still as a shadow in the long night. No more rage, no more shouting — just a small, quiet Jay… clinging to the last bit of peace the night could offer him.
EndofChapter34.