The sound of the sea breeze awakened Santichai. He opened his eyes slowly, only to feel a slight, heavy pain in his eyelids—a lingering tax from the "million trails" of tears he had shed. He found himself sleeping on his stomach, the silk sheets of the guest bed cool against his skin.
He stared at the white door a few feet away, then tilted his head to the left. The white curtains fluttered like wings in the wind, and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore was clearly identifiable. For a moment, it felt like peace.
Then, the memories of the night before flooded back.
Santichai sat up at the edge of the bed, a heavy weight of guilt settling in his chest. He felt ashamed of how he had initiated things with KK only to "chicken out" at the last second. He thought of Decha—how many times his friend had told him to break it off with Asnee over the years. His heart had always been a stubborn thing, unwilling to let go.
In the past, he had told himself he stayed because Asnee was the "light" in his life. But as the morning sun hit the floor, he finally understood the truth: it wasn't just gratitude or a fear of being alone. It was the seven years of friendship that had grown so deep it became love—a love so fundamental it was like the air he breathed to stay alive. You don't just stop breathing because the air turns toxic; you choke until you can't fight anymore.
As the full weight of his actions hit him, Santichai's face became extremely hot, his cheeks burning with a fierce embarrassment. Last night, he had been so emotionally shattered that the walls he'd spent years building had simply crumbled. He had been reckless with his heart and with KK's.
"Mr. KK, how am I going to face you now..." he murmured into the quiet room. "What have I done?"
Suddenly, the soft, steady thud of footsteps echoed from the hallway, moving toward the door. Panic flared in his chest. Before he was ready to face the man who had seen his soul bare, Santichai dove back under the covers, lying flat and squeezing his eyes shut, pretending to be lost in sleep.
KK had moved through the room like a shadow, closing the screen door to hush the roar of the surf and lowering the blinds to protect Santichai's rest. When the soft pressure of a kiss landed on his forehead, followed by a whispered, "Have a good dream," Santichai felt a pang of something he couldn't name. It was the first time someone had guarded his sleep instead of demanding he wake up to serve them.
He waited nearly two hours after the house went silent before he dared to move. He found his clothes—the ones KK had dried—waiting for him like a fresh start. But the living room was empty. In the kitchen, a single plate sat on the table with a note that was both a gift and a release: 'Eat before you go.'
"Mr. KK... why do you treat me so well?" he murmured to the empty air.
He couldn't bring himself to eat. His stomach was a knot of nerves and lingering embarrassment. He left the sanctuary of the glass house, the automatic locks clicking behind him like a door closing on a life he wasn't sure he deserved.
The twenty-minute taxi ride back to his own reality felt like traveling between two different planets. He had just stepped out of the cab when his phone vibrated.
"Pi Fon," he answered, his voice weary.
"Santichai, ah... Are you feeling better?" Fon's voice was hesitant, lacking its usual sharp edge.
Santichai took a deep breath, trying to exhale the salt air of the coast and inhale the heavy, humid reality of the city. "I feel better," he lied.
"Then... do you think you can work today?" she asked, pausing as if she knew she was asking too much. "But if you're not feeling well, that's okay."
"What happened?"
"Aisoon's mother is hospitalized. This time it's real. She fell and hit her head."
The irony was sharp enough to cut. For years, Aisoon had spun a web of "emergencies" and "family crises" to escape his responsibilities or to guilt Santichai into working harder. He had lied about his mother's health so many times to get what he wanted, and now, the universe had finally decided to stop playing along.
Karma truly does have a sense of timing, Santichai thought. He spent so long wishing for a way out, and now he's trapped in the one reality he can't charm his way out of.
"Okay," Santichai said, already checking the position of the sun. "Depending on the traffic, I'll be there in half an hour."
"Thank you," Fon said, her voice rushing now. "But hurry up... because time doesn't wait for you."
While Santichai was navigating the bitter irony of Aisoon's family crisis, KK was trapped in a different kind of theater. The private booth at the Star Hotel was a shark tank of business interests disguised as a family dinner.
KK sat politely, but his mind was back at the house by the sea, wondering if Santichai had eaten the food he left. He barely listened as Mr. MeeChai and his father discussed the merger of their dynasties.
"You think my daughter will have a chance to be your daughter-in-law?" Mr. MeeChai asked bluntly.
KK's father, ever the diplomat, didn't commit. "Marriage depends on two people. If we force them, it won't last. I learned this the hard way," he said, glancing at his second wife.
Dussadi, however, had no such filters. "Don't worry," she chirped, looking at Laddawan. "I will force my brother to marry you."
The laughter of the four parents felt cold to KK. He excused himself to "make a call," but his heart sank when Santichai didn't pick up. He called the clinic, and the confusion with Fon only spiked his anxiety.
"He came to work today," Fon said. "One of the workers had a family emergency, so he's filling in."
KK hung up, his jaw tightening. A family emergency. He knew exactly whose family that meant. Santichai was back in the harness, working for the people who had broken him, likely with a back that was still screaming in pain.
He didn't wait for the dessert or the business deals. He texted his stepmother a lie about an "emergency case" and headed for the exit.
At the hotel doors, KK ran straight into the very source of Santichai's misery: Mrs. Siriporn.
"Good afternoon, Auntie Siriporn," KK said, his politeness now a strained mask.
"Mr. Suwannarat, this is my daughter, Ratana," the woman said, thrusting a beautiful girl forward like a piece of livestock.
"Nice to meet you. Emergency case. I must go," KK said, moving past them before they could trap him.
Mrs. Siriporn didn't look offended; she looked hungry. She watched KK's retreating back and whispered to her daughter, "That man owns those hotels. The mall we just came from. His. Half his grandfather's estate? His. Tana, you are prettier than MeeChai's daughter. You have to hurry. Time won't wait for you."
Ratana smirked, her eyes tracking KK as he got into his car. "Ma, if there is a man in my eyes, don't worry. He can't escape my palm."
On a high balcony overlooking the city, Asnee swirled a single ice cube in his wine glass, watching the lights of the traffic move like blood through the veins of the city. He looked like a man who had everything, yet his face was a mask of simmering frustration.
"Instead of sitting here and wasting your life away, why don't you go out there and find him?" Decha said, stepping into the light. He reached out, taking the wine glass from Asnee's hand and placing it firmly on the table.
"Like hell I know where he is," Asnee snapped.
"I told you before," Decha said, his voice dropping into a tone of cold reality. "If you went through with this plan, it would be the final straw. People like Chai... once they finally make up their mind to leave, they don't look back. They don't come back."
Asnee let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. He snatched the glass back and took a long, defiant sip. "Anyone can leave me, Frank. But not Chai. As long as he is breathing, he will not leave me. He doesn't know how."
Decha didn't smile. He looked at his friend's gloomy, entitled face and felt a flicker of pity—not for Asnee, but for the man Asnee thought he owned.
"Back then, I opposed your plan. Now, I still oppose it," Decha said. He leaned in, meeting Asnee's eyes with total seriousness. "As your best friend, I'm telling you: look for him now. Go down on your knees and spill all your little dirty secrets. The wound is still fresh. With Chai's personality, he might still forgive you."
Decha turned to leave, but stopped at the door, echoing the phrase that seemed to be haunting the city that night.
"But ai hia Nee... whatever you do, you must do it soon. Because time doesn't wait for you."