The morning sun spilled through the kitchen window, washing the room in soft gold. Win sat across from his mother, both hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. For the first time in a while, his smile looked fragile but real.
"Mom…" he began, voice shy and hopeful. "There's someone I want to tell you about."
Suthida looked up from her plate, curiosity softening her features. "Oh? Someone special?"
Win nodded, fingers fidgeting against the cup. "Krit," he said, quiet as a secret. "He's… different. He makes me feel noticed."
Suthida's face softened the instant the name left his mouth. She'd seen the boy before: the confident young man who dropped Win off that one night. The memory warmed her more than she expected. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
"I remember him," she said, gentle and a little amused. "The one who brought you home? And the one at the party who fussed over your spill?" She smiled, eyes crinkling. "He seemed like good company. You look happy, Win. That's all a mother could ask for."
Win's shoulders dropped a fraction. "He—he was really kind to me. He's been… protective." He swallowed, the old caution flickering in his expression. "I'm scared of what Father will say."
Suthida's thumb rubbed small circles on the back of his hand. "I know." Her voice turned softer, threaded with a steady resolve. "I noticed him, too. You're not fooling me; I saw how he looked at you. If he cares for you, that's worth something." She glanced toward the hallway, then lowered her voice. "But be careful. Your father—he doesn't understand things like this."
Win nodded, eyes dropping. "I'll be careful, Mom. I won't do anything reckless."
Suthida's smile wavered into worry. "Promise me you'll be safe. And tell me if anything—if you're uncomfortable, you come straight home. Don't hide it from me."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I will, Mom."
They moved in that small orbit of warmth for a moment more — the clink of spoon against cup, the soft hiss of the kettle cooling — until a heavy step in the hallway broke the spell.
Preecha filled the doorway, newspaper folded under his arm. His eyes swept the table and then paused on Win. For a second his face was unreadable; then a tightness creased his mouth.
"What are you two whispering about now?" he asked, voice flat.
Suthida straightened a little, casualness forced onto her features. "Just talking about his exams, dear. Making sure he's prepared."
Preecha's gaze lingered on Win's face, the bruise faint under the concealer. His jaw tightened. "Exams, huh?" he repeated, tone suspicious. "Win, don't waste time on nonsense. College is for studying, not—" He flicked a glance at Suthida with an edge. "Not gossip."
Win's fork hovered above his bowl. His chest tightened. Suthida met Preecha's stare and offered a small, protective smile. "Yes, Preecha," she said calmly. "We're just discussing his schedule and how to help him study."
Preecha didn't look convinced. He set the paper down with a small thump. "Good. Then get going. Don't dawdle. If you're late—" His eyes snapped to Win, cold now. "I don't want to repeat myself. Go to college fast before I smack you again."
The words landed like a blow. Win's hand went to his cheek instinctively; for a breath he remembered the sting from before. His throat went dry. He forced a measured nod.
"Y-yes, Father," he whispered.
Suthida's face tightened, a flash of anger and helplessness passing through her. She let the matter drop for now, because confrontation would only escalate things here and now wasn't the place. "Eat quickly," she said, voice low. "Be careful. I'll call you later."
Win rose from his chair as if pulled, scooped his bag, and kissed his mother's forehead in a motion that was more apology than goodbye. The warmth of her hand lingered on his cheek for a second longer — a quiet shield.
He left the kitchen with his steps small, the sunlight following him out into the hall like something he was trying to hold onto. Behind him, the muffled sound of his parents' morning voices resumed, ordinary and dangerous in their normalcy.
The air was sharp that morning, sunlight spilling through the trees as students streamed toward the campus. Krit stood leaning against his motorbike, one foot braced on the curb, eyes fixed on the road. His phone screen was dark, but his thumb kept hovering over it, like he was willing it to light up.
When Krit finally saw Win walking toward him—small, hunched, backpack swallowing his frame—something inside him snapped. Relief, worry, and frustration collided violently.
He pushed off the bike, voice already sharp.
"Finally. You decided to show up."
Win blinked, startled. "Krit… what's wrong?"
Krit scoffed, stepping closer, eyes burning.
"What's wrong? Don't act innocent. You didn't answer anything. Not one message. Not one call." His voice rose. "Do you have any idea how insane that made me?!"
Win flinched at the volume. "My dad was home… I couldn't talk."
"That's always your excuse!" Krit's tone cracked like a whip. "Your dad this, your dad that—do you hear yourself? You make it sound like I'm something to be ashamed of!"
Win's breath hitched as guilt washed through him. "…That's not fair."
"No?" Krit stepped even closer, anger radiating. "You treat me like something you have to hide. Like saying my name in your house will kill you."
Win's voice shrank. "…I'm not hiding you."
"Then what do you call it?" Krit yelled, earning stares from passing students. "I told my parents the day I met you! I told them how I feel about you. They want to meet you. They want to meet your parents. And you?" His jaw tightened. "You keep running."
Win stared at the ground, fingers trembling. "You don't understand… my dad—"
"You think I care about your dad?" Krit cut him off, voice exploding once more. "If he has a problem, I'll talk to him myself."
Win jerked back, eyes wide as panic ran through him. "No! Don't! Please—you'll make it worse."
Krit threw his hands up, pacing in frustration.
"How?! How is it worse than you pretending I don't exist every time he's around?!"
His voice cracked. "Do you know how humiliating that feels? Waiting for you like some idiot while you act like I'm nobody?"
Win's eyes filled instantly. "Krit… please stop…"
Krit ignored the plea. His emotions were spiraling too fast to catch.
"What am I to you, Win? Huh? Some phase? Some experiment until you figure out what you want?"
Win's breath broke—soft, shaky. The words hit him like physical blows.
He whispered, barely audible, "…You're being unfair."
"I'M being unfair?" Krit shot back. "No. I'm being honest. Someone has to be."
Win said nothing.
Silent.
Frozen.
Eyes shimmering but lowered to the pavement.
The silence stretched so long it suffocated the air around them.
Krit's chest heaved, rage burning itself out slowly—bit by bit—as he looked at Win's trembling hands.
When Win finally lifted his head, tears pooled at the edges of his lashes.
"I told my mom," he whispered.
Krit's anger paused mid-breath. "Your… mom?"
Win nodded weakly. "She knows about you. She's met you before… when you dropped me home. And at the party. She knows."
His voice cracked. "She just told me to be careful."
Krit's anger softened—but only slightly. "What about your dad?"
Win swallowed hard. "I'll tell him. When I get a chance."
Krit's jaw clenched again, frustration re-igniting. "When is that day, Win? Tell me. Because I've been waiting. And waiting. And waiting."
Krit raked both hands through his hair, pacing in tight, frustrated circles in front of Win.
"I barely slept last night," he snapped. "I kept staring at my phone like an idiot. Waiting. Refreshing. Calling again. Do you know how pathetic that felt?"
Win opened his mouth, but only a tiny sound came out. "…Krit—"
"No, let me finish."
Krit's voice rose sharply, rough with exhaustion and emotion. "If you don't want me, just say it. If I'm too much, just say it. But don't go silent on me like I'm nothing."
Win's breath hitched. His fingers clutched the straps of his backpack—knuckles white.
Krit stepped closer, anger radiating off him.
"Why can't you answer me when your dad's around? What do you think will happen? Huh? He'll break your phone? Yell at you? You act like the world ends when he walks into the room."
Win winced—because Krit's voice was too loud, too sharp, too close.
Krit noticed, but he didn't stop.
He was too far gone.
"You say you care about me," he continued, voice cracking as his frustration mixed with hurt, "but you don't show it. Not when it matters."
Win's throat tightened painfully. His eyes shimmered, but he kept his gaze glued to the ground.
Krit's voice trembled—anger and heartbreak knotted together.
"What am I supposed to think when you hide me? When you disappear the second he comes home? When you can't even whisper my name inside your own house?"
Win whispered, barely audible: "I'm scared…"
"Of what, Win?" Krit demanded. "Your dad? Or me?"
Win blinked hard, the first tear slipping down. He didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Krit took a shaky breath—face red, chest rising and falling too fast.
His voice softened but stayed laced with frustration.
"Do you know how it feels? When someone means everything to you, and you feel like you're… temporary to them? Replaceable?"
Win's lips parted, trembling. "…You're not temporary."
"Then why don't you act like I matter?" Krit shot back, voice raw.
"I told my parents about you with zero hesitation. They keep asking to meet you. My mom even—"
He laughed bitterly. "My mom asked what flowers you like. And meanwhile I can't even walk near your house without you panicking like I'm going to get shot!"
Win's shoulders curled inward, small and tense.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
Krit finally stopped talking.
Stopped pacing.
Stopped breathing for a second.
Because he saw Win's face—wet, shaking, terrified of his anger.
"YO! LOVEBIRDS!"
Phum's voice blasted through the courtyard like a megaphone as he, Than, and Tawan approached with drinks in hand.
But the joking grin on Phum's face vanished the moment he saw Win's tear-streaked cheeks.
"Bro—what the—" Phum blinked. "WHAT DID YOU DO? Why is he crying? Why does he look like a kicked puppy?!"
Krit clenched his jaw, turning his face away because guilt was already hitting too hard.
"Nothing," he muttered, voice low.
Tawan crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Krit. You're literally shaking like a pressure cooker. What did you say?"
Than added, "Yeah, man, your aura is giving 'I just yelled at my boyfriend behind the gates.'"
Win tried wiping his cheeks quickly, embarrassed. His fingers trembled. He kept his eyes on the ground, refusing to look at anyone.
Krit saw that.
Saw the trembling hands.
Saw the redness around Win's eyes.
And it crushed him.
His anger collapsed so suddenly it almost hurt.
He stepped forward and gently—carefully—touched Win's chin, guiding his face up.
"Win," Krit whispered, voice breaking. "Shit—hey. Look at me."
Win hesitated but slowly lifted his eyes.
Krit's heart twisted.
Win's lashes were wet, his cheeks blotchy, his lips trembling.
Krit cupped his face with both hands, thumbs brushing away the lingering tears.
"Baby… I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to yell. I didn't mean to scare you. I just—"
He stopped, swallowing hard.
"I was going crazy," he admitted quietly. "You didn't answer me. I thought you were avoiding me. I kept imagining a hundred things… stupid things."
Win looked down again, voice tiny. "…I wasn't avoiding you."
"I know." Krit's forehead pressed lightly to his. "I know. I'm sorry."
Phum groaned dramatically. "Okay, okay, calm down, Romeo. We're all getting cavities from this sweetness."
Than smacked him again. "Shut up before he actually kills you."
But Phum leaned closer to Win anyway, whispering—loudly on purpose:
"Honestly, Win, just dump him. He's too loud. I'll take you. I'm quiet. I'm good-looking. I don't yell."
Krit snapped around instantly. "PHUM, I SWEAR TO GOD—"
Phum held up his hands, laughing. "KIDDING! Chill!! …Mostly."
Tawan laughed behind her hand. "Win, don't worry. He's not worth dumping someone over."
Than nodded. "Yeah, but if he yells again, just call us. We'll jump him."
Krit shot them all a death glare. "You're all annoying."
Win sniffled softly, wiping the last tear with his sleeve. His voice came out barely above a whisper.
"You really… need to control your temper."
The words were soft, but they hit Krit harder than anything else.
His shoulders slumped immediately.
"I know," he said quietly. "I know, Win. I'm trying. I don't want to be like that with you. I don't want to make you cry."
Phum mumbled, "Too late."
Krit glared. "Shut up."
Then he turned back to Win, voice gentler.
"I just—" His throat tightened. "I get scared you'll slip away from me."
Win finally met his eyes.
For the first time since morning, a small flicker of softness returned to his expression.
"…I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.
Krit exhaled like he'd been underwater too long. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go."
Phum made a dramatic gagging noise. "I swear, you two are gonna be the reason I stay single forever."
Than laughed. "Nah, I'm binge-watching this every day. Season two gonna be crazy."
Krit ignored them completely as he gently brushed one last tear from Win's cheek.
"No more crying," he murmured, smiling softly. "It doesn't suit your pretty face."
Win blushed immediately. "You… started it."
Krit let out a small laugh—quiet, relieved, affectionate.
"Yeah. And I'll fix it."
He slung an arm lightly around Win's shoulders—not tight, just enough to stay close—and they all started walking toward the building.
Win didn't pull away this time.
He stayed close, letting Krit's warmth brush against him, letting the morning chaos fade.
Behind them, Phum whispered loudly to Than:
"Bro… every day with them feels like watching a drama live on 4K."
Than nodded. "And the ratings are getting higher."
Krit heard it—rolled his eyes—but couldn't stop smiling as he walked beside Win.
Because even after the fight, after the tears, after all the messy emotions…
Win stayed.
After the class, they all went to the cafeteria, the cafeteria was loud — trays clattering, laughter echoing — but at their corner table, it was painfully quiet. Win sat stiffly, his lunch untouched, eyes fixed on the rice as if it could save him from the weight of the silence.
Krit dropped his tray across from him, exhaling heavily before sitting down. "You're still not talking to me?" he asked, trying to sound light. No response.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I know you're mad. You have every right to be. I was an idiot this morning."
Win's spoon paused mid-air, then dropped softly onto the plate. He still didn't look up.
Krit rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated but gentler this time. "I just—when you don't reply, it drives me crazy. I keep thinking something's wrong. Or that you don't want to see me anymore."
Win's gaze flickered upward, just for a heartbeat, then back down again. Krit caught it and sighed.
"I don't mean to yell," he continued quietly. "I'm not good at waiting. Especially when it comes to you."
Still no response. Only the faint sound of Win's fork scraping his plate.
Krit hesitated, then reached across the table, his hand brushing Win's wrist. Win tensed, but didn't pull away.
"Hey," Krit said softly. "Look at me."
After a long moment, Win finally did — eyes a little red, lips pressed tight. It broke something in Krit. His voice lowered, sincere and rough. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. I hate seeing you like this."
Win blinked quickly, turning his face slightly away. Krit's chest twisted.
Phum and Than arrived right then, breaking the heavy silence. "Whoa, did we just walk into a breakup?" Phum joked, sitting down beside Win.
"Shut up," Krit muttered, glaring at him.
Than laughed. "Man, you must've messed up bad. Win looks ready to cry, and that's not easy."
Phum leaned toward Win with a grin. "You should dump him. I'd take you in a heartbeat."
Krit shot him a death stare. "Say that again and I'll feed you your lunch tray."
Win, despite himself, let out a quiet, shaky laugh. Krit instantly softened at the sound.
"There it is," he said gently. "I missed that."
Phum groaned dramatically. "Ugh, they're back together. So boring."
Krit rolled his eyes but didn't care — his attention was still on Win. "Let's just eat, yeah?" he said softly.
Win nodded, still quiet, but his shoulders had eased, the distance between them slowly closing. Krit smiled faintly to himself, knowing he'd won back a small piece of the peace he'd broken.
The cafeteria buzzed with noise, trays clattering and chatter echoing from every table. Win sat quietly between Phum and Than, poking at his rice while Krit stood in line near the food counter, loading his tray with extra meat.
Phum leaned in with a smirk. "Man, Krit's acting like he's feeding an army. You sure you can finish all that he brings back?"
Win smiled faintly. "Probably not."
Than chuckled. "He'll just eat the rest himself. That guy never learns portion control."
They were still laughing when a new voice cut in — smooth, polite, with an edge that immediately drew attention.
"Win, right?"
All three turned. Standing there was Narin — tall, sharp-eyed, his uniform neat, his tone casual in that practiced way people used when they wanted to start trouble.
"Uh oh," Phum muttered under his breath. "Here we go."
Win blinked, confused. "Yes…?"
Narin smiled faintly, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I'm Narin. Krit's classmate. I've seen you around."
Than's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, and Krit's gonna see you around too if you don't walk away right now."
Narin ignored him. "So… are you two actually dating? Heard rumors. Thought I should check for myself."
Win looked down, saying only, "…Yes."
"Oh." Narin's smile didn't reach his eyes. "That's brave of you."
Phum snorted. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Narin shrugged. "Just saying. Krit's… well, you know his reputation, right?" He leaned a bit closer to Win, lowering his voice. "He's fun, but not exactly the commitment type. I've seen him go through more hearts than exam papers."
Than slammed his spoon down. "Narin, you better shut up. Right now."
Narin lifted his brows, pretending innocence. "Relax, I'm just warning him. Wouldn't want our sweet Win to end up hurt."
Win's shoulders tensed, lips parting like he wanted to say something—but no words came. His silence only seemed to amuse Narin more.
Narin leaned closer, whispering, "You don't seem too worried. Brave, or just quiet?"
Win muttered nothing, giving a small shrug.
Narin laughed softly. "Silent type. I like that. Makes it more fun… you know, testing boundaries."
Phum jabbed Narin in the ribs. "Boundaries? Buddy, you don't know him. Don't mess with him."
Than added, "Yeah, or you'll regret it."
Narin raised an eyebrow. "You really all think I should be scared of him?"
Narin rolled his eyes and, with deliberate carelessness, moved around the table—and dropped into Krit's empty chair. "Nice spot," he said, reaching for Krit's drink.
Phum lunged forward. "Don't—!"
Too late. Phum tried to yank the chair back just as Narin sat, and the cup tipped. A stream of juice spilled across the table, splashing directly onto Win's shirt.
Win gasped softly, standing quickly as the cold liquid spread.
"What the hell, man!" Phum barked. "Look what you did!"
Krit appeared suddenly at their table, tray in hand, eyes flashing with fury. "What happened?"
Phum gestured helplessly. "He… he spilled it!"
Krit's gaze snapped to Narin. "You."
Narin shrugged, smirking. "It was an accident. Don't be so dramatic."
Krit's jaw tightened. "Sitting in my chair, touching my drink, and spilling it on my boyfriend… accident?"
Narin raised his hands in mock surrender. "Come on, it's just juice. Chill."
Krit stepped closer, voice low and dangerous. "Stand up."
Narin stood slowly, trying to keep his smirk, but the cafeteria had gone silent.
Phum muttered under his breath: "Bet he's regretting showing up now."
Narin tried again, "Hey, man—"
Krit cut him off sharply. "I said, stand up. Now. And don't touch him again."
Narin's smirk faltered. "Alright, alright… geez, you're… intense."
Krit's eyes softened slightly as he turned to Win. "You okay?"
Win nodded quietly, tugging at his shirt to dab the wet spot. "…It's fine."
Krit's expression darkened again. "No. It's not fine. Come with me. Let's fix it."
Win hesitated, but then allowed Krit to take his hand lightly, guiding him out.
As they walked, Phum muttered to Than, "Man… I thought he was joking about being possessive, but wow…"
Than grinned. "Yup. That's my boy. Protective as hell."
Meanwhile, Narin muttered under his breath, "Overreacting much?"
Phum leaned close and hissed, "Yeah, keep talking. See what happens when he gets back."
Minutes later, the roar of Krit's bike faded as they pulled up to his house. Win hesitated in the doorway, the silence suddenly heavy.
"Go on," Krit said gently, nodding toward the bathroom. "Shower before it stains. I'll grab you something to wear."
When Win emerged, wrapped in a robe, droplets of water tracing down his neck, Krit froze mid-step. His usual smirk vanished, replaced by something raw, unguarded.
"You… shouldn't look at me like that," Win murmured, clutching the robe tighter around himself.
Krit stepped closer, voice low and rough. "I can't help it." His fingers brushed Win's damp hair back, grazing his cheek.
The air between them seemed to hum. Win trembled; Krit's chest rose and fell sharply with quiet intensity.
"I'm sorry if I'm too much sometimes," Krit whispered. "But I can't stand anyone else near you. You're mine, Win. Mine only."
Win's eyes glistened. "I've… never… been with anyone before."
Krit's hands framed Win's face gently. "Then let me be the first. I'll be careful."
The kiss started soft, hesitant, questioning—but soon deepened, heated and desperate. Laughter and whispered reassurances mingled between them, clothes falling away, tears and emotion blending into a fragile, electric closeness.
When quiet finally settled, Krit pressed his forehead to Win's. "From now on… no hiding. You're mine, Win."
Win closed his eyes, tears slipping free—but these were tears of fragile happiness.
The night stretched on quietly after, wrapped in soft sheets, the city lights casting a gentle glow through the window. Win drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep, Krit's arm curled protectively around him, thumb tracing idle patterns across his shoulder.
Earlier, Win had asked his mother for permission to stay over at Krit's, knowing his father was away on a business trip. Suthida had been cautious but, seeing her son's rare happiness, had relented with a soft smile. "Be careful… and don't do anything reckless," she whispered. Win had nodded, heart pounding with relief and excitement.
Morning filtered softly through the curtains. Win's eyes fluttered open, squinting against the pale light. Warmth pressed against his side—Krit, already awake, watching him with a faint, amused smile.
"Morning," Krit whispered, low and teasing.
Win's cheeks burned crimson. "M-morning," he stammered, trying to sit upright, heart racing at the vulnerability of the moment.
"You're staring," Win said quietly, attempting to look away.
Krit's smile deepened, playful but tender. "You look good when you're shy," he murmured, brushing through Win's damp hair from yesterday's shower.
Win swallowed, flustered and comforted all at once. "I… I should probably get ready," he mumbled, glancing at the clock. Sunlight fully flooded the room—they were already late.
Krit chuckled softly, voice teasing. "Relax. You don't have to rush. Stay for breakfast. I'll make you something."
Win froze, cheeks heating. "B-breakfast?" he stammered, unsure if he could handle another moment of closeness.
"Yeah! I make a mean omelet," Krit said with a smirk, sliding off the bed. "And coffee. Don't tell me you don't like coffee—you just haven't had mine yet."
Win hesitated but eventually nodded. The two moved into the kitchen, Krit's movements easy and playful. He cracked eggs with exaggerated flair, making Win snicker at the little dance he did around the frying pan.
"Careful! That's my arm!" Win exclaimed when Krit accidentally flicked a bit of egg at him.
"Oops! Consider it a seasoning of love," Krit quipped, grinning. Win groaned, laughing despite himself.
They ate together, Krit stealing bites from Win's plate and making exaggerated complaints whenever Win tried to take the last piece of toast. The small, playful moments made Win's heart race in a way that was both comforting and thrilling.
Finally, Krit glanced at Win, his eyes soft but lingering, reluctant to break the moment. "Do you have to go?" he murmured, stepping closer. "You could stay… just a little longer."
Win's heart raced, torn between the warmth of Krit's presence and the responsibility waiting at home. "I… I should go," he said softly, tugging at his hoodie. "My dad… he'll be mad if I'm late. He—he expects me home."
Krit's jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "You think I care about him? You're supposed to be mine, Win. Mine every moment."
Win swallowed hard, flustered and guilty. "I know… but if I don't go home, he'll—he'll get angry. I can't… I can't risk it."
Krit sighed, running a hand through his hair, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Fine… I guess I can let you go for now," he said, though his eyes lingered on Win. "I have to head out of state for a couple of days—business meetings, and some things with my parents while they're in town."
Win's heart sank slightly, and his shoulders slumped.
Krit's grin softened, teasing now. "Don't look so sad. Who's going to steal your brushes, splash you in the pool, or make you breakfast while I'm gone? I'll miss all my fun little games with you."
Win blushed, trying not to smile, though he couldn't hide it. "You'll survive… somehow," he muttered, shaking his head.
"Don't you dare look relieved," Krit warned, poking him lightly in the side. "I expect daily updates—texts, photos, the whole lot. And no hiding from me, or I'll know."
Win laughed softly, his heart feeling both heavy and warm. "I'll… try," he said quietly, wrapping the hoodie tighter around him.
Krit stepped closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from Win's face. "Okay, I better go before I start crying in front of you," he said, half-joking, half-serious. "Take care of yourself, alright? And don't get into trouble with your dad while I'm gone."
Win swallowed, flustered but comforted, and gave a small nod. "I'll… be careful."
With a final teasing wink and a soft squeeze of Win's shoulder, Krit headed toward his car, leaving Win standing in the sunlight, missing him already, but knowing he had to face the world waiting at home.
The drive was quiet at first. Krit stole glances at Win, who kept his eyes forward, cheeks tinged with pink. The car hummed over the streets as the city woke around them.
At the Thammarat driveway, Krit's brow furrowed slightly, noticing the usual morning calm. "I'll wait until you're inside," he said, voice low.
Win stepped inside quickly, murmuring a soft "thanks." Krit lingered at the door for a moment before leaving, thoughts still lingering on Win's shy, flushed expression.
Win returned home after Krit dropped him off, still feeling the lingering warmth of the morning. He quietly stepped inside, making sure the house was calm. Suthida, already in the kitchen, looked up as he entered.
"Back already?" she asked gently, her eyes searching his face.
Win nodded, cheeks still tinged with pink. "Yeah… Krit made breakfast this morning," he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "He… he's impossible sometimes, but… it was kind of fun."
Suthida chuckled lightly, glad to see her son animated after so long. "I'm happy you're enjoying yourself, Win," she said, her voice warm but cautious. "Just… be careful. Your father—"
"I know, Mom," Win interrupted, his tone quiet, eyes dropping. "I'll be careful."
They chatted for a little while, Win sipping tea, recounting Krit's teasing and the little humorous moments from the morning. Suthida smiled, glad to see him relaxed, even if only briefly.
When he finally stood to go to his room, Suthida looked at him, concerned. "Going to rest?" she asked.
"Yeah… just tired," Win replied softly, trying to mask the lingering anxiety about his father knowing anything. He moved quietly to his bedroom, shutting the door gently behind him, hoping to enjoy a few moments of peace before the day caught up with him.
Hours later, Preecha returned from his business trip, unaware of the morning or the night before. The house remained quiet. Win, now on his bed, tried to calm his racing thoughts, replaying Krit's playful teasing and the rare feeling of being cared for.
It was in this fragile silence that a sharp knock shattered the calm.
"Win!" Preecha's voice boomed from the doorway. "Get up. We're talking—now."
Win's heart skipped, panic rising. He rubbed his eyes, voice trembling. "I… I'm tired, Dad…"
Preecha stormed in, grabbing Win's shoulder roughly. "Tired?" he barked. "You've embarrassed this family enough! Do you even understand what's at stake?"
Win's chest tightened, and his eyes filled with tears. "I… I didn't do anything wrong!"
Preecha's hand lashed out, striking him sharply. "I've arranged something important for you," he said, voice low and commanding. "A lunch tomorrow with my friend's son. He's well-connected, ambitious, and this could secure alliances, wealth, and opportunities for the family. You will attend. No excuses."
Win shook his head violently. "No! I won't! Please, Dad…"
Suthida stepped in, voice trembling. "Preecha, stop! He's just a boy—"
"Out of the way!" Preecha barked, pushing her lightly. "This is about the family's future! Obedience comes first."
Win sank to the floor, sobbing. Preecha loomed over him, voice icy. "You will comply—or face the consequences. Understand?"
After Preecha left, the house fell into an uneasy silence. Win stayed curled on the floor for a long while, trembling, wiping tears from his cheeks. The weight of his father's anger pressed heavily on him, leaving a hollow ache in his chest.
Suthida appeared a few moments later, kneeling beside him. "Win… it's okay," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him gently. "You did what you had to do… for now."
Win rested his head against her shoulder, heart still racing. "I know, Mom… but it's… it's so hard," he admitted, voice barely audible. "I just… I wish things could be different. I wish I could tell Krit… but he's on his trip, and he won't answer yet."
Suthida stroked his hair, offering what comfort she could. "I know you miss him… and it's okay to feel this way. But right now, let's just breathe. You're safe here with me."
Win closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. The silence of the house was both comforting and suffocating—he wanted to retreat from the world but also longed for the warmth of Krit's teasing, playful presence. I hope he knows I'm thinking of him… he thought, glancing at his phone again, unwilling to disturb him mid-flight.
Just as he was about to sink deeper into his thoughts, the front door clicked open. Preecha had returned, moving quietly through the house at first, but his sharp gaze quickly found Win sitting in the kitchen. Without a word, he approached, his hand snatching the phone from Win's grip.
"Your focus should be here, not on distractions," Preecha said sternly, his voice cold and unwavering. Win flinched, swallowing hard. "B-but… I just wanted to—" he began, but the words caught in his throat.
"You don't get to make choices right now," Preecha interrupted, turning on his heel and leaving the phone on the counter. "We'll discuss the rest later."
Win stared at the device, heart aching—not just from the separation from Krit, but from the weight of his father's control.
For the first time that night, he let himself rest a little, letting Suthida's presence act as a fragile shield against the storm of expectations, fear, and longing.