Two weeks before New Year's Eve, Yeh had already booked her flight to Bangkok.
She didn't ask her partner, Fiona, whether Lin would be coming.
She simply made her own plans in silence—exploring food with Fiona, counting down the new year at a bar, wandering the city on foot.
After the plane took off, Fiona said casually, as if it were an afterthought,
"Oh, by the way—Lin and Jing are coming too."
Yeh froze for a split second.
"They… are coming as well?"
Her voice stayed calm, but her heartbeat quietly sped up beyond her control.
"Yeah. I heard they're shooting something nearby and decided to spend New Year's there.
Hey—what do you think their relationship is, anyway? Sometimes they look like a couple, but sometimes not."
Fiona scrolled through her phone, gossiping without much thought.
Yeh stared at the seatback in front of her, carefully shaping her tone to sound composed and neutral.
"I don't think so. Working together every day… it's hard for colleagues to fall in love, right?"
She wasn't sure whether she was saying it to Fiona, or to herself.
What she was sure of was this—
she couldn't stop the surge of excitement.
She was going to see Lin again.
Back at the hotel, Yeh showered, changed into a light shirt, and lay half-reclined on the bed, scrolling through her phone.
Every five minutes, she opened line without realizing it.
Nothing.
At eight o'clock, Fiona knocked on the door.
"Let's go. Lin and Jing have arrived. We're heading to the Chula Night Market."
Yeh took a deep breath.
When she saw Lin again, she reminded herself, she had to look steady, Calm, Distant.
No emotion was allowed to show.
The night market was crowded, glowing under layers of colorful lights.
Naturally, the group split into two:
In front—Lin and Jing.
Behind—Yeh and Fiona.
Yeh walked a little slower, keeping a careful distance—not too close, not too far.
She couldn't help watching the two figures ahead of her.
Lin and Jing walked close together, but they didn't hold hands.
Their shoulders brushed lightly, then separated with ease.
When one spoke, the other leaned in almost instinctively.
It was the kind of distance that invited misunderstanding.
Fiona whispered, "Don't you think they really look like a couple?"
Yeh looked away, careful not to sound too quick, too defensive.
"Girls sometimes stand closer to each other. I'm not sure."
It was the truth.Yeh is not good at recognizing.
She wasn't used to physical closeness.
She rarely engaged in casual skinship, especially with women.
Her sense of where intimacy began and ended was always a step slower than everyone else's.
Even so, she kept repeating silently—Lin and Jing are together. Don't overthink it.
The four of them wandered through the market, but when it came to someone she liked, Yeh couldn't behave as naturally as she did with friends.
She was afraid that saying too much would seem eager, that saying too little would feel cold.
So she stayed within her familiar boundaries—polite, composed, restrained.
Fiona joked; she smiled. Lin asked about filming in Thailand; she answered professionally.
Every emotion was held carefully within what was appropriate.
The night market lights fell across Lin's profile—long dark hair, a gentle presence, a voice soft and measured, like the female leading role of a television drama.
Slow.
Calm.
Easy to project fantasies onto.
Yeh didn't dare look for too long. Yet seconds later, she found herself looking again.
In her mind, the same thought repeated over and over:
They're so in sync.
She must like someone already.
And it isn't you.
Occasionally, Lin turned back and smiled lightly.
"Yeh, are you tired?"
Such a simple question,
yet it touched something inside her.
"I'm fine," Yeh replied, keeping her voice steady.
She didn't know why Lin turned around.
Maybe it was concern. Maybe politeness. Maybe just habit.
But for Yeh, it was enough to loosen her heart—just a little.
Amid the noise and lights of the night market, she suddenly realized something undeniable:
She could still feel her heart move.
Restraint couldn't stop it. Control couldn't silence it.
The difference this time was that she didn't step forward.
She let the feeling stay where it was—quietly contained within her chest, moving gently with the Bangkok night breeze.