The moment the little boy ran off, the others immediately swarmed around Anamarija.
Pim was the first to ask, eyes sparkling.
"What did you give him? I've never seen that packaging before."
Taeng leaned in, squinting dramatically.
"Yeah, what is that? It didn't look like Thai candy."
Anamarija blinked, then held up the remaining packet from her bag.
"…Candy," she said simply.
Taeng stared at her.
"That's not candy I've ever seen."
She gave a tiny laugh. "It's from my country. My favorite since I was little."
Non gasped like she'd just told him she was secretly royalty.
"You still have more?!"
She opened her bag slightly, revealing two more small packets.
"I do. If you want to try some later, I'll share."
Non immediately nodded like a toddler being offered the world.
Chak glanced at her wrist—a small smile forming when he saw the bracelet tied neatly.
"Let's go," he said, tapping his watch. "We're on schedule."
We all headed for the vans, and this time the energy was even higher. People were comparing photos, videos, souvenirs… and Non nearly tripped because he was still staring at the bracelet like it was some kind of magical artifact.
The vans rolled to a stop right at the port.
The sun hit the water just right, turning the waves into streaks of silver and turquoise.
Waiting at the end of the dock were two vessels:
A white ferry for the team.
And—further down, gleaming like money—Chak's private yacht.
Pim gasped. "Are we seriously taking that big ferry?"
Non screamed, "LOOK AT THAT YACHT!" like it was the most important moment of his life.
But Chak was already in work mode.
He turned to the group, voice steady:
"Everyone, head onto the ferry. Staff will assist you."
People moved instantly, excitement echoing across the dock.
Then Chak's eyes shifted—first to me, then to Taeng.
"Niran," he said, "bring my suitcase and Anamarija's to the yacht."
"Your—what? Why the yacht?"
He didn't answer.
Just held my gaze, calm, in control, completely unreadable.
"And Taeng," he added, "go to the yacht's kitchen. Prepare what we'll need. Niran will help you."
Taeng froze.
"…The yacht's kitchen?"
"Yes."
"But why me—"
"You're the best cook," Chak cut him off. "And I need everything ready before we leave the port."
Taeng groaned dramatically.
"One day I quit," he muttered.
But he still headed toward the yacht.
Before going, he patted my shoulder.
"Good luck with the rich-guy luggage."
I rolled my eyes and grabbed the suitcases.
The team was already boarding the ferry, laughing and shouting.
I lifted Chak's heavy, expensive suitcase and Anamarija's elegant one.
She glanced toward us—confusion flickering in her eyes.
Chak murmured something to her, quiet, reassuring.
Then she nodded, though she still looked overwhelmed.
I carried the suitcases onto the dock, toward the black yacht that gleamed like a shadow carved out of sunlight.
When I stepped onto the ramp, the yacht felt almost too perfect—smooth metal, polished surfaces, the subtle smell of salt and new paint.
I dragged the suitcases onto the deck and set them down.
Seconds later, Chak boarded behind me.
"Take them inside," he said.
"And when you're done… help Taeng in the kitchen."
"The kitchen? Again?"
Nothing.
Just that unreadable look before he headed up the stairs.
I sighed under my breath and took the suitcases inside. The yacht hummed softly—engines warming up. Crew members moved around outside, preparing to depart.
By the time I reached the kitchen—
we were already pulling away from the dock.
The faint shift of the floor, the slow sway under my feet, the low rumble of the yacht cutting through the water—it was unmistakable.
I stepped into the kitchen—
And froze.
Taeng wasn't cooking.
Kit had him pinned against the counter.
And they were kissing like they'd been starving for each other.
Hands tangled in shirts.
Breaths uneven.
Totally lost in each other.
"Uh—"
I blurted.
They jolted apart.
Taeng went tomato-red.
Kit nearly swallowed his tongue.
"Oh my god—Niran!?" Taeng whispered.
Before I could apologize, a calm voice slid down my spine:
"The kitchen is occupied."
Chak.
He stepped beside me—close enough that his presence alone made my skin heat.
Then he reached for my hand.
His fingers laced with mine—warm, steady, deliberate.
"Come," he murmured.
He didn't wait to see if I'd follow.
He knew I would.
He pulled me down the hallway—
past the rooms—
down the narrow stairs—
deeper into the yacht.
The floor swayed gently under us.
The engines hummed steadily.
We were out on open water now, leaving the port behind.
He didn't stop until we reached the last cabin on the lower deck.
He stepped inside.
I followed.
The moment I crossed the threshold—
he closed the door.
Slow.
Intentional.
Final.
"Niran," he said softly.
I turned toward him—
And he kissed me.
Sure.
Certain.
Like he'd waited all day for exactly this moment—
for us to be alone, the yacht moving beneath us, no witnesses, no excuses.
His hand slid to my waist.
His lips pressed into mine, warm and confident.
He pulled me closer until my back hit the wall and the soft sway of the yacht carried both of us.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, he whispered—
"I've wanted to do that since this morning."
And the way he said it—
quiet, certain, absolutely real—
made my knees go weak.
His breath was still brushing my lips.
His forehead rested against mine.
My heartbeat was everywhere—my throat, my chest, my fingertips.
Something in me snapped.
Not from shock.
Not from confusion.
But from wanting him back.
I didn't even think.
My hand slid up his chest—slow, almost hesitant—until it curled around the edge of his shirt.
"Chak…" I breathed.
He lifted his head just a little, his dark eyes locked on mine, waiting—
And I kissed him.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, firmly, deliberately—
not shy, not questioning.
His breath hitched.
His hand tightened around my waist.
I kissed him again, deeper this time, fingers bunching in the fabric of his shirt as I pulled him closer.
His lips parted against mine instantly, like he'd been hoping—aching—for me to do that.
The yacht swayed gently beneath us, the motion pushing us together, my body against his, his warmth sinking into my skin.
Chak let out a low sound—something between a sigh and a groan—before he kissed me back with a sharp, hungry certainty that made my knees weaken.
His hand slid up my spine, steady and warm, and the other cupped my jaw, guiding my mouth with slow, controlled intensity.
Like he wanted to feel every second of this.
Every curve of my lips.
Every breath between us.
I kissed him harder.
He answered instantly.
Our breaths tangled.
Our bodies pressed closer.
The room felt small, hot, spinning with the soft rhythm of the waves and the heat between us.
When I finally pulled back—just enough to breathe—his eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them.
He dragged his thumb across my lower lip, slow, almost reverent.
"Niran…" he whispered, voice rough.
But I leaned in again—
just a soft brush of lips this time—
and murmured against his mouth:
"You're not the only one who's been wanting this."
For a few long seconds, neither of us moved.
We just stood there, breathing the same air, staring into each other's eyes.
His hand was still resting on my waist.
My fingers were still curled into his shirt.
The soft sway of the yacht rocked us gently, grounding and unreal at the same time.
Chak's lips curved into the smallest, warmest smile.
"Welcome aboard," he murmured.
My chest tightened—warm and full.
A quiet laugh escaped me, and without even thinking, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him.
He didn't hesitate.
His arms slid around my back, holding me close, steady and certain, his chin brushing my temple.
For a moment I just stayed there, breathing him in, feeling the calm pulse of his heartbeat under my cheek.
Then he loosened his hold, just enough to meet my eyes.
"Let's go," he said softly.
I nodded.
He opened the door, and together we walked back through the narrow hallway, up the stairs, and into the bright main deck lounge.
Sunlight spilled across the polished interior, warm and gold.
Outside the windows, the sea stretched endlessly—blue, shimmering, alive.
On the large white couch sat Taeng, Kit, and Anamarija.
Taeng's hair was still slightly messy from earlier.
Kit sat close to him, pretending to scroll on his phone.
Anamarija lounged elegantly, legs crossed, looking out at the horizon like she belonged in a movie.
All three of them turned to us at the same time.
Taeng's eyes flicked between Chak and me—too fast not to notice.
Kit pretended he saw nothing.
Anamarija smiled politely… then paused.
Chak and I sat down—him beside me, our shoulders brushing. I leaned my head to his shoulder.
Anamarija looked from Taeng and Kit, to Chak and me… then back at the ocean.
And finally she said, dead serious:
"Why am I the only single one here?"
Taeng nearly choked on his drink.
Kit raised an eyebrow.
Chak hid a small smile.
I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
Anamarija threw her hands up.
"I mean it. I want a boyfriend too." All of you looks so happy with your boyfriends.
Taeng groaned dramatically.
"Anamarija… trust me. Dating someone in this group is pure chaos."
Anamarija, totally serious:
"Perfect. That's exactly what I need."
Taeng leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk.
"You have a lot of admirers. I think you'd find someone pretty fast."
Anamarija snorted.
"Admirers? Where? I haven't seen any."
Kit glanced up from his phone, expression calm but very pointed.
"I think you already found someone."
She straightened immediately.
"Who?"
Kit didn't even hesitate.
"Vikran."
Anamarija blinked.
"Vikran? No he's just my friend.
Kit set his phone down, looking at her like the answer was obvious.
"He fell for you before he even knew you were a Phanprasit."
Taeng's jaw dropped.
I sat up a little straighter.
Even Chak turned his head slightly, intrigued.
Anamarija just stared at Kit, completely caught off guard.
"And". she whispered.
Kit nodded once, calm and certain.
"He likes you.
I added softly, "Honestly… yesterday everyone could see it."