The bus roared into the distance. Santichai knew Asnee would only chase after him for a moment before giving up. In the ten years they were together, that had always been Asnee's pattern: he would work feverishly to get what he wanted, but he never had the patience to sustain it. If things became difficult, he simply backed down. He had done it with his career, and he had done it with their relationship.
Watching Asnee fade away in the distance brought a flood of memories from the night Santichai finally dropped his pride—the night that changed everything.
In the small apartment, they were lying side by side in the suffocating silence of their room. Santichai had been crying since he left the restaurant at two in the morning. His eyes were so swollen they were nearly fused shut, but he knew no one was coming to wipe his tears. He let them flow until his pillow was damp. Asnee was only an inch away, but he felt miles distant. The only sound in the room was Asnee's steady, uncaring breathing.
After an eternity of sullen silence, Asnee finally spoke. "Chai... let's break up."
"Mmm," Santichai murmured, too exhausted to fight.
But then he heard the door slam. The sound vibrated through his chest, making his heart feel like a piece of thin glass about to shatter. The sudden reality of losing Asnee hit him with a wave of panic. He scrambled out of bed and ran out of the apartment barefoot. He flew down three flights of stairs and burst onto the street just as Asnee climbed into the back seat of a car. Santichai lunged for the handle, but the locks clicked shut.
He tapped frantically on the glass, his voice cracking with desperation. "Asnee... please don't leave! I have nothing left. You're my only lifeline. Please don't take it away from me!"
Asnee ignored him, while the car slowly pulling into the street. Santichai ran alongside the car, tapping on the window, begging for one more chance. Then, the car accelerates. The engine roared, and the car began to pull away.
"Asnee! I don't want to break up! Please stop the car!" Santichai's bare feet slapped against the cold pavement. He chased the car for ten agonizing minutes, his breath hitching, his injured back screaming in protest. Finally, his legs gave out. He collapsed onto the asphalt, watching the red taillights vanish into the dark.
"Asnee..." he sobbed into the empty street. "Don't leave me..."
He forced himself to stand, his head spinning. Suddenly, the silence was ripped apart by the screeching of tires. Then came a sickening, heavy thud.
The next thing he remembered was lying in a black abyss, staring up at a million tiny, cold stars in the night sky.
A few yards away, Ohm gripped his steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. He stared at the motionless man in his headlights, his lips trembling. Shaking with fear and half-drunk, he fumbled for his phone and dialed.
"Hello...?" a voice answered.
"I hit someone!" Ohm screamed into the phone, tears streaming down his face. "I don't know if he's dead or alive! Come quickly!"
"Ohm, calm down. Let me think—"
"It's all your fault!" Ohm shrieked, his voice laced with venom. "I asked you to come with me and you refused! You stupid pig! I hate you for making me go through this alone! KK, you ugly fat ass, what kind of boyfriend are you?"
"Don't worry, sweetheart," KK's voice came through, calm but strained. "My family lawyer is the best. Just step out of the car and check on the person."
In the middle of the street, Santichai began to move. He got up slowly, his movements robotic and dazed. He managed about ten steps toward his apartment before his knees buckled and he fell again. A few bystanders rushed toward him.
"See? I think he's fine," Ohm snapped into the phone. "He got up and walked away."
"Sweetheart, please check on him before you leave," KK pleaded.
"I won't! I'm drunk, and if the police find me here, I'm in trouble!" Ohm yelled. "You're such a useless loser, KK!"
Ohm slammed the phone down and sped away, his tires smoking. Some bystanders shouted at the fleeing car, while a woman quickly noted down a portion of the license plate to give to the police.
Another woman knelt beside the fallen man. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"
Santichai's vision was a blur of shadows and light. He couldn't see her face, but he reached out, whispering a name that no longer belonged to him. "Asnee... please don't break up with me..."
Santichai's tears fell in a silent rhythm. When he heard the other passengers shouting that the man chasing the bus had fallen, his heart finally betrayed his resolve. He lunged toward the window, sticking his head out into the rushing wind, desperate for one last glimpse of Asnee—to see if he was hurt, to see if he was okay. But it was too late. The bus had already rounded the corner, and the street where his past lay was gone.
The person sitting in the next seat had headphones on, and the muffled, mournful melody of 'Hurt and Endure (Like a Buffalo)' by Asiar R Siam drifted through the air. Listening to the lyrics of tireless, foolish endurance, Santichai realized how well he had learned to live with pain. Over the years, he had cried an ocean for a heartless man like Asnee.
He promised himself then: he would remember the hurt, but he would not let its own him. He would continue to love himself, to build this new version of the man he was becoming—someone strong enough to ensure no one could ever break him again. He whispered a lesson to his own soul: Hurtful memories aren't there to taunt you; they are there to remind you never to walk the same path again.
Yet, even as he tried to purge Asnee from his mind, the memories seemed to grow sharper, more vivid. His stubborn heart refused to let the image of the demon who wore an angel's face disappear entirely. He was moving forward, but he knew the shadows of the past would always walk a few steps behind him.
Inside the car, the silence was suffocating. Asnee refused to look at his mother, staring instead at the city blurred through the window. He watched a young couple walking hand-in-hand, their fingers intertwined, and a wave of memories crashed over him. He remembered when he and Chai used to walk like that—before the secrets, before the shame. He knew deep in his soul that Santichai was finally moving on, and in this shattered, vulnerable moment, Asnee felt more alone than he ever had in his life.
Mrs. Siriporn's voice sliced through his thoughts like a serrated blade. "What on earth do you see in that low-life? What will people think? What will Tipkamol do when she finds out her fiancé drove two hours just to chase after a man?" She let out a sharp, disgusted huff and began striking Asnee's shoulder. "Are you crazy? I've worked my whole life to give you everything! Why won't you listen? You are such an ungrateful son!"
Asnee turned his head slowly, his eyes cold as his mother continued to heap insults onto Santichai's name. Suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore.
"Mother, enough!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the car's interior. "I'm tired of your nonsense. I know better than you whether Chai is good or bad. If you want to scold someone, scold me!"
The realization hit him that he couldn't spend another second in this car. As they passed the hotel where he'd booked a room, he tapped the back of the driver's seat. "Stop the car. Now!"
The bodyguard slammed on the brakes. Asnee bolted out of the car and toward the hotel lobby. Mrs. Siriporn scrambled after him, her face red with fury, her bodyguard trailing behind to hold the elevator door open just before it could close.
"How dare you speak to me that way!" she seethed as the elevator began its ascent. "I am your mother!"
Asnee remained silent, staring at the numbers on the display. When the doors opened, he marched to his room, swiped his card, and sat heavily on the edge of the bed.
He looked up at her, his voice dead. "Get out."
"What did you say?" Mrs. Siriporn's eyes widened. She stepped forward and delivered a stinging slap across his face. "How dare you use that tone with me!"
Asnee didn't even flinch; the physical pain was nothing compared to the exhaustion in his chest. "I don't want to hear another word from you. Please. Just get out."
Mrs. Siriporn's composure shattered. She gritted her teeth, her voice trembling with malice. "What is so special about that money-hungry, white-eyed fox? I've spent ten years successfully keeping you apart from him! Why does he keep coming back? How much more money does he want before he'll finally leave you alone?"
She loomed over him, her face twisted. "Asnee, wake up! He likes men, not you. He's the one with the disease, not you!"
The room felt like it was shrinking. The repetitive insults and the sharp movements of his mother's mouth made Asnee's migraine throb with a sickening rhythm. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and the anger he had been suppressing since dawn finally erupted.
Asnee stood abruptly, his voice bouncing off the hotel walls. "It's not a disease! Why do you keep insisting that this is a disease?" He glared at her, tears finally spilling over. "Ma, let me make this very clear to you." He pointed a trembling finger at his own chest. "Between me and Chai, if anyone is 'sick' here, it's me."
"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Siriporn gasped, reeling back.
"I'm gay! Do you hear me? Your son is gay!" Asnee's lips trembled as the words he had hidden for a decade finally tore free. "I like men. If Santichai wasn't a man, do you think I would love him? This 'disease' inside me is who I am. It's incurable. It doesn't even have to be Santichai—as long as it's a man, that is who I will want."
The slap was louder than the last one, fueled by his mother's shock and grief. She burst into tears, her world crumbling.
"Hit me," Asnee sobbed, leaning into her. "Hit me until you're satisfied, but it won't change the truth."
"I don't believe you," she wailed. "It's him! Santichai bewitched you. He made you think this way! I thought I separated you..."
"Ma, you never separated us," Asnee laughed hysterically, a sound devoid of joy. "I lied to you. I lied because you wanted grandchildren so badly. I've been living a double life for ten years! Why can't you and Pa just accept me? Why are you trying to force me into be someone I am not?"
Mrs. Siriporn didn't answer with words; she simply beat her fists against his chest, venting a decade of frustration. "I don't care what you call it," she hissed through her tears. "I will find a way to cure you."
Asnee looked at her with profound pity. He raised his right hand, mimicking a gun with his fingers and pressing them against his temple.
"If you want to kill this 'disease,' Ma, there's only one way. One bullet. Bang. Then it's cured."
Mrs. Siriporn recoiled, horrified. "How dare you threaten me with your life? You shameful, ungrateful son!"
Asnee knew his mother's love was his only leverage. He had to play his last card. "Ma, if I do what you want, you have to do what I want. I'll marry Tip. I'll give you the grandchildren. But you and Pa will never stand between me and Santichai again."
"You..."
"I love him. Whether I have a wife or not, I will never stop loving him."
Mrs. Siriporn took a long, shaky breath, her eyes hardening into cold glass. "Very well. As long as you marry Tipkamol and provide an heir, I don't care who your 'mistress' is. But remember this: I don't ever want to see his face in public. He stays in the shadows where he belongs."
"He will," Asnee whispered, though his heart felt like lead.
"Fine. It's settled." She threw his car keys onto the bed. "I'll have the driver bring your car around. Remember your promise, Asnee."
Mrs. Siriporn walked out of the room without another look at her son. Her face was a mask of icy resolve as she met her bodyguard at the elevator. She knew she couldn't change Asnee's nature, but she could still break the "lifeline" he clung to. If she couldn't win over her son, she would play the "concerned mother" and force Santichai to disappear for good.
"Drive me to the Oceanview apartment complex," she commanded as they reached the car. "I have some unfinished business to settle with Chai."