Santichai had spent the last few weeks in the quiet sanctuary of KK's home. He was already enrolled at the nearby university, waiting for the semester to begin in two weeks. He continued his physiotherapy three times a week—not because he felt he truly needed it anymore, but because he didn't want to go against KK's wishes. He would do anything to keep the peace KK had provided.
One afternoon, after finishing his prescribed walk and starting on dinner, the doorbell rang. He wasn't expecting KK back until nine, so he hurried to the door with a curious smile. But the four people standing on the porch were not KK.
Mr. Suwannarat stared at him, his gaze sweeping over Santichai's casual clothes and apron. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice ringing with authority.
Before Santichai could answer, Mrs. Suwannarat offered a thin, polite smile. "He must be the housekeeper KK hired. Why else would he be here?"
Mr. Suwannarat nodded dismissively. "Ah, I forgot about that."
"Recently, KK hasn't been coming home for dinner because of you, I assume?" Mrs. Suwannarat said, looking past him into the kitchen. "Are you cooking?"
"Yes, Mrs. Suwannarat," Santichai replied, his heart sinking. He didn't correct her. He couldn't.
"Make extra tonight," she commanded lightly. "You can leave once the meal is finished."
Santichai bowed his head. "Yes, Mrs. Suwannarat."
He spent the next hour in the kitchen, a ghost in his own sanctuary. Once the meal was laid out and Mrs. Suwannarat had inspected the portions to her satisfaction, Santichai grabbed his backpack and headed for the door. As he slipped away, he caught the scene in the living room: Mr. and Mrs. Suwannarat was laughing and chatting with two women—a mother and a younger girl.
"How old are you, dear?" he heard Mrs. Suwannarat asks.
"I'm twenty-four this year," the girl, Aom, replied gracefully.
"I'm not sure what KK's 'type' is these days, but I'm certain he'll be charmed by you," Mrs. Suwannarat sighed. "Let's not dwell on the past; that was all just a misunderstanding."
Santichai focused on his shoes, his hands trembling slightly as he tied the laces.
"My KK is a good man," Mr. Suwannarat added. "He works hard and is kind to everyone. Sometimes, people mistake that kindness for something else. Those rumors about him being a player... they aren't true. Mrs. Bho, you have nothing to worry about."
"Exactly," Mrs. Suwannarat chimed in. "Aom, you'll see. KK is so kind that people often misinterpret his intentions in the worst way."
"Thank you for explaining, Auntie," Aom said softly.
"You'll understand once you meet him. Besides, you two have been engaged since childhood. Even if the engagement was technically broken, KK's grandfather still intends for this match to happen."
Santichai stepped out into the evening air, the door clicking shut behind him. He walked past the security gate, nodding a quiet goodnight to the guard, and left the manicured safety of the neighborhood. He hiked up the hill toward the main street, his breath coming in short, pained hitches.
He eventually found a spot on a jagged rock by the sea. As he watched the distant lights of the boats dancing on the black water, the scene at the house replayed in his mind. It was a movie he had seen a hundred times before. For ten years, he had sat in rooms just like that one, watching Asnee's parents entertain "suitable" guests while Asnee introduced Santichai as nothing more than a "friend who came along for the ride."
The pain in his back was nothing compared to the old, familiar hollow opening up in his chest.
Santichai pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of a lone boat drifting on the dark sea. He looked down at the screen, but the digital image was dull—it lacked the depth and the biting chill of the salt air he was feeling now.
"No matter how many photos you take," he whispered to the wind, "the memory and the reality are two different things."
Just then, his phone vibrated in his palm. The sudden jolt startled him, and the device slipped from his fingers, hitting the shallow water at his feet with a quiet splash. He scrambled to retrieve it, but the screen remained black, the electronics fried by the salt water. He let out a long, weary sigh. "Well... maybe it's better to face the reality than stare at a fake image anyway."
He slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked back toward the main road, where he hailed a taxi to his old apartment. Before heading up, he checked his mailbox. Inside was a single postcard and two letters, buried under a layer of dust.
He unlocked his door and stepped inside, the stale air of the empty room greeting him. This is where I belong, he told himself, though the thought felt like a lead weight in his stomach. He sat on the sofa and turned over the postcard from Mr. Kasem, the head carer of the orphanage where Santichai had grown up. Mr. Kasem was inviting him to celebrate his 70th birthday and his retirement.
The postcard had arrived a month ago. Santichai stared at the familiar handwriting. He knew Asnee knew where he lived, and he knew KK's parents would never see him as more than a servant. With his mind racing and his heart heavy, he made a sudden decision. He would take the seventeen-hour bus ride to celebrate with Mr. Kasem.
Perhaps resting in the only place that had ever felt warm during his childhood would bring him the peace he so desperately needed before school started. Santichai moved quickly now, packing a few clothes and gathering his important documents. He didn't look back as he locked the door and headed for the bus station, disappearing into the night.
KK hurried through the HappyCare Clinic parking lot, his mind already at home. Santichai had promised to cook dinner tonight, and KK was eager to get back to the quiet warmth of their shared space. Just as he reached his car, he ran into Fon.
"Doctor Suwannarat!" Fon called out. "How is Santichai doing?"
"He's doing well, Mrs. Pricha. The surgery was a success," KK said, offering a quick smile.
Fon frowned, her shoulders slumped. "I miss him."
"I'll pass that on to him," KK promised.
"Tell him he needs to come back and visit me," she insisted.
KK chuckled, reaching for his door handle. "Mrs. Pricha, you might want to look into hiring someone full-time."
"Hey! Don't talk to me like he's never coming back," she teased.
"I'll have him call you," KK waved, pulling out of the lot. As he reached the main road, he dialed Santichai's number. It rang several times before going straight to voicemail. A small knot of unease formed in his stomach.
When he pulled into his driveway, his heart sank. The house was glowing—nearly every light was on. Usually, Santichai kept the lights low, preferring the soft glow of the television or a single lamp. This felt wrong.
He entered his code at the front door and stepped inside. His eyes immediately fell to the entryway, where several pairs of shoes were lined up with military precision. He walked into the living room and stopped cold. His parents and Mrs. Bho were settled on his sofa, looking as though they owned the place.
"Oh, KK, you're home!" his mother chirped, turning around. "Dinner was ready an hour ago. I told Aom to go ahead and reheat it."
KK stared at her. "Aom is here?"
Mrs. Bho stood up, her jaw nearly dropping as she looked KK up and down. She smiled broadly. "Are you really the same KK I used to know?"
"Good evening, Auntie Bho," KK said, his voice tight.
"You've changed so much!" she exclaimed, clearly impressed.
Just then, Aom walked into the room. "Auntie Suwannarat, the meal is ready." She paused, her eyes landing on the tall, fit man standing in the center of the room. "And you are...?"
Mrs. Suwannarat laughed, stepping over to her son. "You don't recognize him, Aom?"
Aom shook her head, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I don't."
"This is the KK you refused to marry all those years ago," his mother said with a smirk.
Aom gasped. The man she remembered was soft and shy; the man standing before her now was striking, with a sharp, defined jawline and deep, intelligent eyes. She managed a shy smile. "Hello."
"How have you been?" KK asked politely, though his eyes kept searching the hallway for Santichai.
"I'm fine. And you?"
"Good," he replied shortly. He turned to his mother. "Where is...?"
"I told the housekeeper he could head home for the night," she interrupted, smiling at Mrs. Bho. "Let's eat before the food gets cold again."
"Ma, he isn't—"
"Let's go to dinner," his father commanded, standing up. "I have something to discuss with you afterward."
The five of them sat around the dining table, the air thick with the scent of the meal Santichai had prepared.
"KK," his father began, "do you remember that 'postponed' engagement?"
"I do," KK said, looking directly at Aom. "I thought we agreed to call it off because Aom didn't want to marry me. Why are we bringing this up now?"
"The only reason Aom hesitated," his mother explained, "was because of those ridiculous rumors that you were a player."
KK raised an eyebrow at Aom. "Really?"
Aom blushed. "It's true. But after speaking with your mother, I understand everything now."
"So," KK said, his voice dangerously calm. "Do you want us to be engaged again?"
Aom smiled. "If you still feel the same way... I want us to get married. It's what our grandparents wanted from the start. We've been promised to each other since we were children."
"The commitments were made by our grandparents, Aom," KK countered. "Like you told me years ago—we don't even know each other. How could we spend our lives together? Why the sudden change of heart?"
"I only recently learned the truth about you," she said softly.
"Then you should know I'm bisexual," KK stated flatly.
Aom didn't blink. "I know. Your mother told me."
"And you don't mind?"
"No," she said firmly. "I don't."
KK leaned back, a small, cold smile playing on his lips. "You're right about one thing. We shouldn't pay too much attention to the promises of our elders." He looked at Aom and Mrs. Bho. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel the same."
The table went silent. Four sets of eyes stared at him in shock. KK turned his gaze to his mother. "How do you like the food, Ma?"
"It's wonderful," she said, confused by the change in topic. "Your housekeeper is quite a cook."
KK's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sorry, Ma, but you've misunderstood. His name is Santichai Kittibun. He isn't my housekeeper. He's my boyfriend—and he's the man I intend to spend the rest of my life with."