The advantage of warm weather is the clear sky—it always makes me want to go out for a walk. Although the sunlight is so strong that it stings my eyes, this kind of light makes photographs look beautiful. Besides, staying in the room makes me feel as though there's nothing to do.
So I pack my things into my backpack, take my favorite camera, hang it around my neck, and head outside to walk and take photos around Chiang Mai, where I arrived a few days ago, two months before the semester begins.
I… Typhoon… am about to become a first-year student at the School of Veterinary Medicine, in a strange place far from home. Living alone. Not knowing anything.
But that's okay.
Being alone isn't much different from how things were at home. And at least… I'll be closer to him.
When I took the entrance exam, I chose the Faculty of Medicine as my first choice and the Faculty of Veterinary Medicine as my second. I never thought I would get in. When I was accepted into Veterinary Medicine, I hesitated—whether to continue studying or give up and stay home, burying myself in books.
In the end, I chose to come here for the same reason as always.
I don't want to stay home.
Being here… should be better. And not just for me.
I moved into the residence my father found for me—alone. He took care of everything. He didn't complain, nor did he ask me a single question when I told him I wanted to study here.
Of course, the farther I am from them, the better.
Every month, my father has his secretary transfer money to me. I speak to his secretary more often than I speak to him. He works hard, yes—but that doesn't mean he has no free time. He does. He simply chooses not to spend it with me.
After divorcing my mother, his life seems to be going well. His one-year-old daughter is adorable—so much so that it's almost enviable. If I ever get the chance to meet her, I'll be a good brother to her. I'll take care of her the way Torfun once took care of me.
But I probably won't get that chance.
Living alone in a place far from home isn't as bad as I once thought. The dormitory is quite convenient. My father has been supporting me financially for as long as I can remember. The same goes for cameras and photography equipment. He transfers money to me without asking questions. He doesn't care how I spend it—he only tells me not to overdo it and not to bother him too often.
Typhoon is nothing more than a hidden character in my father's life. That woman must never know that her new husband has a son named Typhoon. And that's fine—I don't want anything from him. I no longer seek a place for myself.
It's not as though I would complain about it.
I stopped searching for a place to belong a long time ago.
I am Typhoon—a storm, the wind that blows and destroys everything, yet remains unseen.
I watch people passing through the university during the school break. There aren't many of them. The atmosphere here isn't bad; it's gloomy and quiet. I can't help but pick up my camera and take pictures. In truth, I photograph almost everything because I genuinely love capturing moments. It's the only hobby I have—and if possible, I don't want it to remain just a hobby.
A dream…
…
Today, the weather is a little too hot. Still, I think Fun would have loved it. As for the sky, there isn't a single cloud in sight. It's impossibly clear. I decided to post a new photo on Instagram. I love collecting photographs of the sky.
The reason is simple. He… is my only sky. He always has been, and always will be. He was Fun's sky too—and Typhoon's.
I came here because I wanted to see him. But it was never going to be easy. I still don't know how to find him. And even if I did… what would I do then?
We haven't seen each other in four years. He must have changed. We haven't had any contact all this time.
That's right… Why did I never reach out to him?
…
I got lost, again.
I've always been like this. Ever since I was a child, I've been terrible with directions. I can't remember them well. I often get lost. Sometimes I confuse left with right. I once tried trusting my instincts and following the path they led me to, only to end up even more lost, making it even harder to find my way back.
It started when I was still a child, back in school.
Our teacher once told us to remember that the hand we use to write with is our right hand, then asked everyone to raise their right hands at the same time. Most of them did. I didn't.
Because I am left-handed.
Ever since then, I've always been confused about left and right.
…
I remember walking out through one of the university gates, though I'm not sure which one. I just kept walking straight.
And now I'm probably outside the campus.
Since I've only been here a few days, I didn't notice that the sky at sunset is different from the one back home, and how it changes every day.
I stopped when the light turned red.
I can't cross yet. It looks like I have to wait for the cars to pass first.
Or maybe not.
I think I'd rather stay where I am.
I've always been terrified of fast cars, especially when traffic is heavy. The roar of engines and the blur of headlights—it dredges up the worst memory of my life, one I can't seem to shake. That's why I avoid crossing streets whenever I can, and I never drive when cars swarm around me.
Today, I decided to walk back a little and take a songthaew instead—a rickety, open-air bus that rattles through the city streets. My heart still thunders as I step onto the curb.
I flag down an old man driving one, and he slows to a stop. "Are you going to the university?" I ask, my voice sounding smaller than I intended.
He shakes his head slowly. "Oh, no. I'm going the other way. You'll have to cross the street and flag down a car in the other lane."
But I already said I didn't want to cross the street…
I swallow hard, imagining the cars speeding past, their engines like claws reaching for me. My hands tremble as I glance at the road. Crossing it feels impossible.
"Ahh…" I pause, looking in the direction the driver had pointed. It seems I have no choice but to cross—and then wait for a vehicle in the opposite lane—to get back to the university.
"So where are you heading next, Uncle?"
"I'm taking some tourists to Walkstreet."
"Ah… Walkstreet. Alright, I'll come along."
The decision left my lips almost as soon as it formed in my mind. I climbed into the songthaew without another thought. A stroll along Walkstreet sounded pleasant enough—after all, I had nothing else to do at the moment.
By the time we set off, the road was already thick with traffic. It was nearly six in the evening, that familiar hour when cities everywhere seem to move at the same impatient pace. I sat quietly in the back of the songthaew, watching the world slide past me.
The city's atmosphere felt unlike anything I had known before—alive, restless, and strangely inviting. It was as though a new world was unfolding right before my eyes, one meant for someone like me, who rarely ventured far from the familiar. Neon signs flickered, voices overlapped, and the air hummed with motion.
Then something unexpected caught my attention: a sign for the Faculty of Pharmacy. Seeing it here made me pause, a small jolt of familiarity in an otherwise foreign place. For a moment, the city felt both distant and close at once.
When the vehicle passed a sign for the Faculty of Medicine, my heart gave a small, sudden tremor.
What did it mean? Was this faculty separate from the main university? It seemed that the other health-related faculties, like dentistry, veterinary medicine, and the rest, were clustered in an entirely different zone.
Then a quiet realization settled in.
I probably wouldn't meet him here.
It was still the holiday break. There was still time for me—time to steady myself, to rehearse my words, to brace my heart. Yet the most important thing remained unresolved. I still hadn't decided whether I should tell Phi Fah everything… or keep it buried where it could no longer hurt either of us.
I stepped off from the songthaew when I noticed everyone else doing the same. It was nearly seven in the evening, and for the first time in my life, I found myself walking along a pedestrian street far from home.
I moved slowly toward the walkway, which was neatly divided into two streams—the flow going in, and the flow returning. Stalls lined both sides, glowing under warm lights. The items on display were unfamiliar yet fascinating: elephant keychain dolls, handcrafted trinkets, and souvenirs unique to the northern region.
"How much is this?" I asked, pointing to one of the keychains.
"One hundred fifty baht."
I blinked. Wow… that's expensive.
"It's handmade, so it's a bit pricey," the elderly woman added with a gentle smile.
I nodded in understanding and bought it immediately. Afterall, it was handcrafted, so it was worth the price.
As I continued walking, I couldn't help but feel a quiet thrill at the sights unfolding around me—things I rarely ever encountered. I wasn't someone who traveled often. I almost never gone far from home, rarely to other provinces, and most importantly… this was the first time I had gone somewhere entirely on my own. Only then did I realize how easily a person could get lost.
I hadn't expected the pedestrian street to branch into so many intersections. After turning one corner, a sudden doubt struck me. Which way had I just turned? If I kept walking in this direction, would I even find my way back?
I stood there, hesitating, confusion rooting me in place, until the steady flow of people forced my decision. I couldn't block their path forever. With a small sigh, I moved forward, following the route I had already taken.
Great… now what, Phoon?
Had I really planned to just wander around and somehow make it back? How exactly was I supposed to return? The roads twisted and overlapped, each one looking more unfamiliar than the last.
A faint panic crept in. What if I stayed lost until morning?
The thought followed me as I walked on, swallowed by the crowd and the maze of lights ahead.
I slowed to a stop when music drifted through the air. Drawn by the sound, I followed it until the street opened into a wide plaza, where a performance was already underway.
A group of musicians sat at the front, their hands moving deftly over instruments I assumed were traditional Northern Thai instruments. In front of them, six women dressed in elegant Thai Lanna costumes danced in perfect harmony with the rhythm, their movements fluid and graceful.
Wow! That was amazing!
I had never seen anything like this before. Excitement bubbled inside me, leaving me both thrilled and mesmerized. Almost instinctively, I lifted my camera. There was hardly enough time to capture everything—every smile, every turn, every shimmer of fabric under the lights.
Everyone looked stunning. The glow of the lights softened the scene, making it feel almost unreal. Beyond the dancers, I found myself photographing everything—the stage decorations, the musicians lost in their craft, and the faces of the people watching, all of us momentarily bound by the same sense of awe.
For a brief moment, getting lost no longer mattered at all.
I moved toward a quieter spot, away from the crowd, hoping for a clearer angle to take my photos. As I slowly panned my camera, my lens caught sight of someone—and the image framed within it made me freeze.
My breath hitched.
I lowered the camera, hands trembling, and looked again with my own eyes.
Phi Fah.
I stood there, stunned, as my mind struggled to make sense of what I was seeing. My heart began to pound wildly. My hands shook. Even my legs felt unsteady, for reasons I couldn't fully explain.
It really is Phi Fah…
He looked different from the boy I remembered, yet not in a way that surprised me. I had always imagined he would grow into someone handsome—but the reality far exceeded that quiet expectation. He was even more striking than I had ever pictured.
Ugh… why is my heart beating so fast?
The question echoed in my chest as I remained rooted to the spot, afraid that if I moved, the moment might shatter like an illusion.
It didn't seem like Phi Fah had come alone. The crowd was dense, and someone stood directly in my line of sight, blocking my view of the person beside him. I couldn't see who it was—only the suggestion of another presence. They spoke for a moment, then turned and began to walk away from the performance area.
Wait… are they leaving?
What should I do?
Before my mind could reach a decision, my body had already moved. My foot stepped forward, betraying the hesitation in my thoughts. I just wanted to look at him a little longer—just a little.
I had no intention of approaching him. I wasn't ready for that yet.
But was it really a good idea to follow him like this, Phoon?
To trail behind in silence, pretending it was a coincidence and not something far more reckless?
The question echoed in my chest as I followed at a careful distance.
Phi Fah was tall—far taller than I remembered. From what I could tell, he had to be over 180 cm. The realization made him stand out effortlessly in the crowd.
I lifted my camera, pretending to take photos of the surroundings. After all, it was because of him that I started practicing photography in the first place.
Through the lens, I finally caught sight of the person walking beside him.
A woman.
I only saw her side profile as she turned to say something to Phi Fah, but even that brief glimpse was enough. She was beautiful. Her hair flowed down to her waist, catching the light as she moved.
My chest tightened.
Is she his girlfriend…?
The thought slipped in uninvited, heavy and sharp, lingering far longer than it should have as I lowered the camera once more.
Phoon… why had it never even crossed your mind that Phi Fah might already have a girlfriend?
That's right—someone like Phi Fah. How could he not have anyone?
"Ah!" I yelped, startled as someone suddenly bumped into me from behind.
"I'm sorry," the person said immediately, their voice hurried but gentle.
I turned to look. Concern flickered across their face. "Are you hurt?"
"No… It's okay," I replied quickly, though the bump had been harder than I expected.
"Phoon?"
I froze and turned toward the voice that was calling me.
"Yes…"
The person who had called my name looked genuinely surprised, staring at me with wide eyes. Phi Fah's own expression mirrored shock at first, but he quickly regained his composure and stepped closer. The woman beside him seemed a little puzzled, yet she followed as he approached.
"Phoon… do you still remember me, Phi Fah?" Phi Fah asked, his voice calm but curious.
"Y-yes…" I stammered, my throat suddenly dry.
"What a surprise," he continued, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Did you come here for a walk?"
"Yeah."
"Did you come alone?"
"Uh… yeah."
"That's strange."
"Why?" I asked, puzzled.
Phi Fah's lips curved into a playful smile. "Is Phoon no longer the child who always gets lost like before?"
Still the same…
Phi Fah was still the same.
A small, nervous smile tugged at my lips as I looked at him. I wanted to say something—anything, but my words seemed to stick in my throat.
"Um…" I hesitated, my gaze drifting to the person standing beside Phi Fah.
"Oh… this is my neighbor's younger brother," Phi Fah said, a faint chuckle in his voice. "His name is Typhoon."
Right… Typhoon. Just the neighbor from the house next door. Simple. Ordinary.
I forced myself to nod, trying to look calm, though inside I was suddenly hyperaware of every movement, every smile, every glance. I was here, yet somehow out of place—watching, waiting, and not quite sure what to do with the fluttering in my chest.
"Oh… hello. Are you a first-year?" She nodded at Phi Fah's words and turned to me, offering a friendly smile.
"Krap…" I muttered.
"You don't have to be so formal with me," she said warmly. "I'm Mona. I'm a first-year too."
"Oh…"
"What faculty are you in?" Mona asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Veterinary Medicine," I replied.
"Oh, I'm in the Medical Faculty as well."
"Mo, you have to go now, right?" Phi Fah asked gently.
"Um… yeah, my brother's waiting for me," she answered.
"Hmm…" Phi Fah seemed to think for a moment. Then he turned to me. "Phoon, wait here for a bit, okay? Phi wants to treat you to a meal. Have you eaten yet?"
I shook my head.
"Not yet? Well then, please wait here for Phi. I'll take Mona first, then come back to pick you up."
I nodded, unsure of what to say.
"Bye! See you again," Mona called as she waved, and I managed a faint smile in return, watching them walk away.
P'Tonfah had told me to wait here… and now, I waited—heart fluttering, a little unsure of what would happen next.
Since Mona was a woman, it would have been unsafe for her to walk back alone, so it was fine for me to wait here by myself.
I lingered near the edge of the walkway, glancing at the shops and stalls around me. If I stayed in the middle of the road, I would surely be blocking other people's paths. My hands were damp with sweat, and I didn't know why. My heart, already pounding, seemed to hammer in my chest, and a strange weight pressed on my lungs.
Why am I standing here? I didn't even know if Phi Fah would really come back.
I tilted my head upward. The sky was dark now, blank and starless, yet it wasn't unpleasant. There was a quiet beauty to the night, a calm in the emptiness above.
Secretly, I felt a small relief—Phi Fah was the same. Still kind, still gentle with everyone, just as I remembered. It was in his nature. He had been raised this way; Uncle and Auntie had shaped him with care. You could tell at a glance—Phi Fah came from a perfect family, a person molded by love and kindness.
Perfect… in every way.
Like the intangible sky…
His name—Tonfah—meant "sky."
"Excuse me, please make way!"
I flinched. "Oh! I'm sorry." Someone was trying to buy something, and I had been standing right in their path.
I hurried to the side, but no matter where I went, it felt like I was always in someone else's way. I squeezed between people, only to be pushed along again, swept into the current of the crowd. Step by step, I followed the flow, jostled back and forth, until I realized I had ended up somewhere I didn't recognize at all.
Oh no… Phi Fah had told me to wait there.
Now… where am I?
…
[Flashback]
That day, it rained like it always did during the rainy season. The city I lived in was no stranger to storms, and yet, somehow, Typhoon—the mischievous child I had always been—managed to get lost again. Well… not completely lost. I was almost home, until a soft, pitiful sound stopped me in my tracks.
A tiny kitten, soaked through by the relentless rain.
"Oh, poor thing… come here." I crouched and gently scooped it up, tucking the little body against my chest. It must be freezing.
"You're okay now," I murmured, rocking it slightly.
Even as I comforted the little creature, I could feel the chill seeping into my own bones. My teeth chattered as much as the little orange cat, whose wide eyes looked up at me with a mixture of trust and fear.
"We can't stay out here in the rain like this. We'll both get sick," I said softly, my voice barely louder than the patter of raindrops around us.
I ran without knowing where I was going, my steps aimless. Getting lost was nothing new to me. Torfun had always warned me never to wander in unfamiliar directions. I only knew the way between home and school—and even that, today, seemed uncertain.
I finally spotted a bench that offered some shelter from the relentless rain. The place didn't feel entirely safe, but there was no other choice. I sank onto it, letting my body rest for a moment. The little cat in my arms nuzzled closer, seeking warmth as if it could feel my own shivering.
"I'm soaked too, kitty," I murmured, holding it tighter. "You won't be able to warm yourself if you stay this close… or are you just scared?"
Of course, it must be scared. How could it not be? Its mother cat was nowhere to be seen. Why would she leave her kitten alone in a place like this? There were so many dogs roaming around—I doubt any mother cat would dare let her little one wander out here.
I sighed, hugging the trembling bundle closer. Somehow, in this small, rain-soaked moment, I felt responsible for both of us.
"Don't be scared," I whispered.
"I'm not just saying that to comfort you. Someone will come and help."
"Really… there will be a hero."
"I can't take you home. I don't remember the way anymore…"
"So let's be good kids and wait here together, okay?"
The kitten only stared back at me, silent and trembling.
…
"Phoon!"
"Phi Fah!"
Relief crashed into me all at once.
"You're so naughty," he said, though there was no real scolding in his voice.
He glanced at my arms. "What do you have there—a cat?"
"Yeah," I replied softly. "It was all alone, so I picked it up and stayed with it."
"I figured," Phi Fah said as he sat down beside me, looking a little tired. "You ran after it, didn't you? And then you couldn't find your way back, so you ended up here."
I looked at him, guilt tightening my chest.
Why do I always rely on Phi Fah?
"Yes… I'm sorry, Phi Fah," I said quietly. "I troubled you again."
"No, it's okay." He smiled gently, the same smile that had always made me feel safe. "Do you remember what I've always told you?"
"If you get lost, just sit and wait, and I'll come and find you," I recited without hesitation.
Because if I wandered around on my own, I would only get more lost. That was our promise. Phi Fah would be the one to find me—
And all I had to do was be a good boy… and wait.
"That's right—you didn't mean to get lost, did you?"
"No," I replied softly. "But if I hadn't helped this kitten, it would have been in trouble. It's shaking so much."
"Let me see it," Phi Fah said.
I carefully passed the kitten into his arms. Without hesitation, he slipped off his jacket and wrapped it gently around the small, trembling body.
"For today," he said with a faint smile, "this kitten will have to wear this instead."
I nodded in agreement. Phi Fah always wore a sweater whenever he came to see me. He once told me he brought one on purpose—just in case I got cold.
Watching him now, I realized that he hadn't changed at all. He was still the kind of person who always thought of others first, even before himself.
"P'Fah,"
"Yes?"
"Can we keep it?"
He hesitated, then spoke gently. "Um… I think we should find someone else to take care of it, don't you?"
"It's just that…" My fingers tightened around the kitten. "I want to keep it. It must be alone… like me. But if we stay together, we won't feel lonely anymore."
"You're not alone," he said softly. "You have all of us."
"But no one ever has time for me."
He fell silent for a moment, then sighed. "Alright. We'll see what your mom says."
"Hm… thank you, Phi." Phi Fah was always kind.
....
"No!"
"But, Mom, I want to keep it. I promise I'll take good care of it!"
"If I say you can't, then you can't."
"But—"
"That's enough!" Her voice cut through me. "If you're going to argue like that, then don't talk to me anymore. Go away. I have to go to work."
"…Alright."
The word slipped out quietly, barely audible, as I stood there holding the kitten—both of us suddenly very, very small.
....
"Mom didn't let you?" Torfun asked. She had been waiting downstairs and looked up as I came down the stairs.
"No," I replied quietly. "She was very angry."
"She's probably just in a bad mood from work," Torfun said. Her gaze shifted to the kitten, now wrapped in a pile of old cloth while P'Fah gently dried it off.
"Hmm…"
No. She's always in a bad mood when I talk to her.
"That's a shame," Torfun sighed as she sat down beside the kitten. "Should we try asking Dad?" She leaned closer, her eyes softening. "It's so cute. Does it have a name yet?"
"Not yet," I said, shaking my head. "I haven't even thought of one."
"I see. That's fine." She smiled faintly. "Fah, help me think of a name."
"Hm?" Phi Fah looked up, eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise. "I'm not very good at naming things."
"But why should we name it if it's not going to stay with us?" I asked, my voice small, my gaze fixed on the kitten.
"I'll take care of it for you," Phi Fah said calmly.
"Really?" Torfun's tone was doubtful. "You're actually going to take care of it?"
"Mhm. You can come and play with it later."
"Will your parents allow it?"
"I think they will," Phi Fah replied after a moment. "I'll ask them." Then he turned to me and smiled. "So, Phoon, you can name it, okay? Because it's not going anywhere."
"…Thank you, P'Fah."
The words felt warm in my chest, like a promise I could finally believe in.
I named it See Thong (meaning golden) after the warm orange hue of its fur.
When P'Fah moved out, we had to take care of See Thong on our own. Our parents complained at first, grumbling about the extra responsibility, but in the end, they let us keep it. Perhaps they saw that we were trying—that we were careful enough, responsible enough.
But now… See Thong is gone.
It died a few months ago.
And somehow, the loss still feels fresh.
I can't keep anything safe.
....
"Phoon..."
I was happily browsing through the items on display when I heard a familiar voice behind me. I turned toward the owner of the voice almost instinctively.
He found me… again.
"Yeah?"
"Why weren't you waiting at the same spot?"
"I–I got pushed by the crowd," I replied. Phi Fah looked slightly surprised. I realized then—it was probably because I hadn't referred to myself in the third person, the way I used to when I was a kid.
"Alright. Let's go eat," he said simply.
"Ah… okay."
I followed P'Fah closely, not daring to say much. My chest felt tight, nerves buzzing beneath my skin. I didn't know what to do, and I wasn't very good at talking to begin with. Starting a conversation felt almost impossible.
"Is there anything you'd particularly like to eat?" he asked.
"No… nothing in particular."
"Then is this restaurant okay?"
"Krap."
We stepped into a roadside restaurant Phi Fah had chosen. It was a modest place, the kind that looked as though it stayed open even on days without a street market—quiet, familiar, unassuming.
After ordering, we waited for the food. The silence between us stretched, awkward—at least for me.
"So," P'Fah began, breaking it at last, "what made you decide to study so far away?"
It was a normal question, the kind people asked when they hadn't seen each other in years.
"Um… I just wanted to try it," I answered.
"You're studying Veterinary Medicine?"
"Yes."
"That's surprising. I thought you weren't interested in that field."
"No… not really. I do like it," I said, lowering my gaze as I reached for my glass of water. Then, after a pause, I asked, even though I already knew the answer, "What about you, P'Fah? You're studying Medicine, right?"
"Yes." He nodded. "And you—did you come here alone? Or do you have friends studying here too?"
"No. I came alone."
"Is that so?" He smiled faintly. "You're quite brave."
"How have you been, P'Fah?"
"I've been fine. How about you, Phoon?"
"Well… just going with the flow." I let out a soft sigh, hoping it would ease the tightness in my chest. Why was I so nervous?
"The girl from earlier… is she your girlfriend?"
"Oh, Mona?" He chuckled lightly. "No. She's just a Nong."
Just a Nong[1]…
"Ah. I see."
So that's all I am, too—just another Nong in his eyes.
P'Fah is like that. Kind to everyone. Gentle with his words, warm with his smiles. I've seen people fall for that kindness before, mistaking it for something meant only for them, believing they were special—until they realized they were no different from anyone else.
He doesn't mean to hurt anyone. He probably doesn't even notice.
But that's exactly what makes his kindness so cruel.
That's why I once thought of him as the sky—so vast, so beautiful, seeming close enough to reach…yet forever untouchable, impossible to hold, impossible to possess.
"How are your parents doing?"
"Oh—Dad's fine," I replied honestly. I turned to thank the waiter as the food was set down in front of us. "But… I don't really know how Mom is doing."
He looked at me, a quiet question in his eyes. "Why is that?"
"My mom and dad got divorced, and…" I hesitated. "Mom just disappeared."
"I'm sorry to hear that," he said gently.
"Ah… It's okay." I forced a small smile.
He nodded, then asked, "How about Torfun? How is she?"
"Torfun…"
The name lingered on my tongue, heavy and unfinished.
....
How much pressure can a child endure from their own family? I think I'm someone who has always been holding on—patient, obedient, doing everything that was asked of me. I tried, and then tried even harder. Yet no matter how much effort I poured in, it was never enough.
....
"Can you stop bothering me already?"
"Phoon…"
I looked at her face—twisted with worry, fear, and sadness. Torfun was crying. She stood at the doorway of our house, staring at me as if she were afraid I would disappear the moment she blinked. Everything I had been holding back finally gave way, and I lost my patience.
I yelled at Fun… for the first time.
"Don't call me again. It's really annoying."
"Phoon… don't leave, okay?"
"Start the motorcycle. Quickly. Let's get out of here."
I climbed onto the back of the motorcycle and said it to my friend just before he twisted the throttle. The engine roared, and we sped away from the front of the house.
Yeah… my patience is running out.
And the pain—slowly, quietly—turned into helplessness.
Throughout my childhood, I was burdened with everything. I carried responsibilities that never felt like they belonged to a child. And then, at some point, I couldn't take it anymore.
In high school, the questions started to surface—sharp and relentless. Why was it unfair like this? Why did it have to be me? Why was I the one who had to endure all of it? I did my best. I really did. So why did no one ever think of me?
If she didn't love me… then why did she give birth to me at all?
In the end, everything always came back to Torfun.
Oh… then maybe they never needed to have me in the first place.
After thinking it over, who could really blame Typhoon for becoming a problem child? He wanted acceptance. He wanted praise. He wanted attention. And when he couldn't find those things at home, he searched for them elsewhere—among friends who would at least notice him.
Having Phoon was like having a lost child—lost, drifting farther and farther away.
He had gone astray.
....
"Phoon, you're not sleeping at home again today?" one of my friends asked as we lounged in his condo—our unofficial hangout spot.
"Yeah."
"Why? Did you get into a fight?"
"Yeah. I'm angry. She's really annoying."
"Who was that?" he asked. "The one I saw talking to you when I went to pick you up—she was really pretty."
"My sister."
"Oh. Does she have a boyfriend?"
"No. No way. It's forbidden." I reached for a glass of liquor on the table and took a long sip, letting the bitterness burn its way down my throat. "Turk, pass me one."
"Here." He handed me a cigarette.
I placed it between my lips and lit it. I hadn't liked it at first, but after a few tries, I'd grown addicted. Everyone else smoked—how could I be the only one who didn't? At least alcohol and cigarettes helped me forget the pain for a little while.
"How long has it been since you stayed at your house, Phoon?" another friend asked. "You've been here the whole time."
"Why?" I shot back. "Can't I stay here?"
"Of course you can."
"Are we skipping school today? I'm too lazy to go," someone else muttered.
We were a group of troublemakers—naughty kids, people liked to call us. Sometimes I went to school. Sometimes I didn't. I had never lived like this before, but now I skipped classes like it meant nothing.
Why should I even study hard? Even when I get a low score on an exam, no one praises me for trying. And if I don't go to school at all, I just get scolded. Either way, I lose.
"I'm not going," I said flatly.
"Phoon, you're going to fail at this rate."
"I don't care."
"Seriously? You're being irresponsible."
I glanced at my phone. A call from Fun lit up the screen. I sighed in irritation, stepped out onto the balcony, and answered it anyway.
[Phoon, where are you? Come back home.]
"I told you not to call me anymore."
[Can we just talk calmly?]
"I don't want to talk. There's nothing to talk about. You're annoying—stop being so nosy."
[Phoon—]
I hung up before she could finish and pulled out another cigarette, lighting it to steady my shaking hands.
Since when did I start feeling like this? Like everything was falling apart because of Fun.It wasn't her fault—deep down, I knew that. But in that moment, all I felt was abandonment.
My parents only ever cared about Fun. All their attention, all their concern, went to her. And I was left with nothing.
Whenever I compared myself to her, I felt unbearably small. Inferior. Worthless. So I built a wall around myself—the only way I knew how to survive without breaking apart.
I wanted to keep going. I really did. But I couldn't anymore.
How did I end up like this?
Fun should have understood. Even when I acted out, my parents didn't care. Even when the teachers called home, no one came. It was Torfun who showed up instead, sitting down to talk to them in my place. Fun was a good student—well-behaved, obedient, the kind teachers loved. So when she asked them to overlook my mistakes, they did.
Fun only wanted what she never truly got from her own family. Her parents loved her, but they never listened. So she tried to be perfect—for them, for everyone.
She was the only one who ever called me, asking me to come home.
But it didn't matter anymore.
That house…was never really my place.
....
I spent almost a month of my life trapped in that mess. Long enough to convince myself that I couldn't go back anymore. Sometimes, guilt crept in—but whenever I remembered why I had been forced into that situation in the first place, I pushed the feeling away. I decided I wouldn't feel sorry.
Every time I went home just to change clothes, Fun would beg me not to leave. She stood there, holding onto my sleeve, asking me to stay. I never listened. Instead, I shouted—throwing words at her that I never should have said.
I didn't realize how hurt Fun was.
And what made it even worse—what truly disgusted me now—was that back then, I didn't care at all.
"Turk, that idiot's staring at your girl," one of my friends said as he took another drink.
That night, we were at a bar, celebrating one of the group's birthdays. Music thumped through the air, laughter spilling over the tables.
"Where?" Turk asked.
"That guy in the orange shirt."
"Has he been staring long?"
"From what I can tell, yeah. For a while now."
"So… what? Should we do something?"
"Hit him. Looks like he's from that school too."
"Hey, let's go teach him a lesson."
Just like that, my friends stood up, moving together with reckless excitement, looking for trouble with someone from another school. Fighting was something I never liked. You could call me a coward—but the truth was, I hated violence.
"Phoon, you coming?" someone asked.
"Just go ahead."
"What? You scared?"
"You guys go," I replied vaguely.
A few of us stayed behind, people who didn't want to get involved. I sat with them, watching from a distance as my friends started provoking the other group. At first, it was the usual—some pushing, a few careless punches. Nothing serious.
But then more people got involved.
The noise grew louder. The tension snapped.
"Ahhh!"
A woman screamed as a bottle flew past, shattering nearby. The staff rushed in, trying to stop the chaos, but they were quickly overwhelmed. In the end, the manager had to step in, asking customers to leave for their own safety.
The night spiraled out of control—just like everything else in my life.
"Hey—are you trying to escape?"
"Huh?"
"Wait—"
Before I could react, someone grabbed my collar and yanked me forward. A heavy blow struck my face, the force knocking me off balance and sending me crashing to the ground.
What… is this?
"Those are your friends, right?" the voice sneered. "You need to be taught not to interfere."
I hadn't even gotten involved.
"Again!"
"Damn it!" I clenched my teeth as another hit landed. The pain flared instantly—sharp, overwhelming. That was exactly why I hated fighting. Before the staff could rush in and pull him away, I seized the chance to slip out of sight, ducking into another corner of the place.
My hands were still shaking when I pulled out my phone. Missed calls lit up the screen. Just as I checked them, Fun was calling again.
I hung up immediately—but the phone rang once more. This time, I had no choice but to answer.
[Phoon, are you at the bar?]
"How did you know?"
[A friend said he saw someone hitting you. Is that true?]
"It's not like that."
[I'm coming to get you.]
"Right now?"
[Yes. I'm picking you up and bringing you home—now. Do you want me to go crazy from worrying? I won't listen to anything you say. Don't argue with me. Don't go anywhere. Stay where you are. I'll be there in ten minutes.]
She hung up before I could respond.
I tried calling back. No answer.
Is she crazy? It's late—it's dangerous.
And her voice… she sounded scared. I knew she would rush here without thinking.
No. This is bad. It's even more dangerous this late at night.
I was too anxious to sit still, but I didn't dare call again. What if she was already driving? I checked the time again and again. Nearly thirty minutes passed. The chaos in the bar slowly settled, the noise fading into something dull and distant.
But Fun still hadn't arrived.
I stayed where I was, exactly like she told me to.
Still nothing.
When her name finally appeared on my screen, relief washed over me so suddenly it almost made my knees weak. But the moment I answered—and heard a voice I didn't recognize—my heart dropped.
[Excuse me… are you a relative of the deceased? This number was the last one on the phone.]
"…What?"
[The deceased.]
The world went silent.
...
"It's your fault!"
The shrill scream tore through me as someone shoved me hard against the wall. A small hand struck my face again and again, the force sharp and desperate, until I tasted blood at the corner of my mouth.
"That's enough. Stop."
"You little brat—monster!" she cried. "You killed my daughter! My daughter died because of you!"
I stared at the woman in front of me—eyes wild, face twisted with grief and fury.
Mom.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, lowering my head as tears finally spilled over. Blood still trickled from my mouth, but I felt nothing. No pain. No sting.
My whole body had gone numb.
"I'm sorry…"
Sorry.
Sorry.
Fun… I'm sorry. I apologized.
I'm very sorry.
Fun's body was taken to the hospital for examination. According to the report, she had been hit by a car driven by a drunk driver—someone who hadn't even realized how intoxicated he was. The driver was punished in accordance with the law.
After that, her body was brought back home.
The funeral was held simply and quietly. Other than a few residents, almost no one knew. It was over before it truly began, as if her death was something meant to be kept small and hidden.
Our parents didn't want it to become a topic of conversation. They didn't want the people in the village to know that their daughter had secretly gone out late at night—that she had gotten into a car to pick up her younger brother from a bar, only to be struck by another vehicle and lose her life.
Even P'Fah's family didn't know. They were people who had helped my father greatly, and my father doesn't want P'Fah's father to know. Otherwise…
He wouldn't have had the courage to face them.
I sat in front of the coffin placed inside the house, refusing to go outside to greet the guests. I didn't want their eyes on me. And more than that, I hated their words.
"If he hadn't behaved like that, his sister wouldn't have died."
"Exactly. Even his parents didn't want to deal with him. Only Torfun cared. What's he going to do now?"
"No one wants him. That kid's finished."
"Think about it—what kind of good kid goes to a bar so late at night? I heard he even got into a fight."
"That's true. I don't know why Torfun was so worried. If it were me, I wouldn't have gone out looking for him."
"Hm. That's why she got hit by a car. If she had just stayed home, none of this would've happened. What a pity… I heard she was smart. Torfun was her parents' future."
Their voices drifted in from outside—sharp, careless, unforgiving.
I stayed where I was, sitting silently before the coffin, letting every word carve itself into me.
...
I haven't been able to sleep properly since the day Torfun died.
I wake up in the middle of the night and lock myself inside Fun's room, staying there until morning. Tears fall without warning, without end. No matter how much I cry, the sadness never lessens. It just sits there—heavy, unmoving.
Stop…
Only now do I understand what it means to be too exhausted to even stand.
My entire body feels drained. I don't have the strength to move, not even to lift my head—yet the tears keep coming, unstoppable.
Then I hear my father's voice.
My parents are arguing downstairs.
I don't want them to fight. I crouch down, hugging my knees, trying to think of a way to stop them—of something I can do.
"Enough," my mother shouts. "I'm tired of men like you."
"Why?" my father snaps back. "What's wrong with men like me?"
"You're a scumbag. Even after getting married, you still managed to get another woman pregnant. How could you do something like that?"
"We've talked about this before. Why do you have to bring it up again?"
"Why? Why can't I talk about it?" she screams. "Are you afraid people will find out? Afraid your reputation in the city will be ruined? Rit—the respected man everyone admires—being exposed as a filthy, shameless man?"
"Shut up!" my father yells. "This is not the time for this, and you know it!"
"Why not?" she sobs. "That bastard killed my daughter! I've raised him for more than ten years—that's more than enough. Every time I look at him, I'm reminded of what you did. Of who destroyed this family."
"I didn't mean for it to happen," he says weakly. "I didn't intend to get her pregnant."
"Then how did she get pregnant?" my mother cries. "And in the end, that child—that child—ended up killing my daughter."
"Torfun is my daughter too!"
"Then why did it have to be Torfun?" she screams. "Why didn't that kid die instead? Huh?! Why did it have to be Torfun?" Her voice breaks. "Fun my daughter… my sweet Fun…"
She collapses onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. My father stands there, frozen, not knowing what to do.
Neither do I.
It feels like the world is breaking apart, shattering piece by piece.
That's right… Fun.
Why wasn't it me who died?
...
"Phoon."
"…."
"Phoon."
"…."
"Hah—yeah?"
"You seem distracted," he said gently. "What are you thinking about?"
"Uh… nothing."
"Come on, eat first. It's already late."
"Krap." I hurriedly scooped rice into my mouth, lifting my hand to wipe away the tears that had pooled at the corners of my eyes. I shouldn't cry here. Not now.
"Hm… then?"
"Yeah?"
"The question I asked earlier—you still haven't answered it."
"…."
"How's Torfun?" he asked quietly. "How is she doing?"
"Torfun…"
The name caught in my throat.
"…."
"She's fine," I said at last, my voice barely above a whisper.
[1] In Thailand, Phi (พี่) and Nong (น้อง) are essential, gender-neutral, and honorific terms used to show respect, indicate seniority, and foster a family-like, close atmosphere among people. Phi (พี่) means "older sibling" or "elder." It is used to address or refer to someone older, a boss, or in a friendly, respectful manner. Meanwhile, Nong (น้อง) means "younger sibling" or "junior." It is used to refer to someone younger, implying care or mentorship.