Milk Tea / ชานม / Tsaa na may Gatas
"Sometimes the smallest mistakes lead to the biggest stories."
— Ryan Lopez
The rain had stopped just minutes ago, but the pavement outside was still shiny and wet, reflecting the scattered streetlights along the quiet street.
Ryan Lopez pushed open the glass door of the 7/11 with a soft chime ringing overhead. The cool air inside was a relief after the sticky Bangkok heat that clung to his skin like a second layer.
He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at the rows of fluorescent-lit shelves stacked neatly with snacks, instant noodles, and cold drinks. The place was nearly empty, just the night shift staff behind the counter, a few regulars scattered by the aisles.
"Long day," Ryan muttered under his breath, eyeing the digital drink menu. His throat felt dry from talking all afternoon, explaining Shakespeare and grammar to a noisy classroom of teenagers.
At the counter, a young man with messy black hair and soft eyes greeted him with a quiet nod. The guy looked tired but polite, wiping his hands on his apron.
Ryan smiled and pointed toward the chilled drinks. "One Thai milk tea, please. Chá nom, kráp."
The young man nodded but didn't respond. He turned and began preparing the drink with practiced hands, moving quickly but carefully.
While waiting, Ryan's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw five missed messages from his co-teacher, Ms. Patcha. She was probably worried about the student he had to send to detention.
He ignored the phone, focusing on the faint sound of the rain tapping against the glass outside.
The young man returned, holding a cup with a bright pink liquid inside.
Ryan frowned, holding it up. "Uh… this isn't nom yen, is it?"
The young man blinked and looked confused. Then he quickly typed something on his phone and showed it to Ryan.
"คุณหมายถึงชาไทยใช่ไหม?"
Do you mean Thai tea?
Ryan laughed softly. "Yes! Thai tea. Chá Thai. Thank you."
The guy smiled shyly and vanished behind the counter for a moment, returning with the familiar orange-brown milk tea.
He handed it to Ryan and then, without a word, tapped on his phone and turned the screen toward him.
"ขอโทษครับ ฉันยังพูดอังกฤษไม่ดี"
Sorry, my English isn't good yet.
Ryan smiled, appreciating the honesty. He opened his phone, quickly pulling up Google Translate.
He typed:
"ไม่เป็นไร ฉันก็พูดภาษาไทยไม่เก่งเหมือนกัน"
It's okay. I'm also not good at Thai.
When the phone read the sentence aloud, the young man's eyes widened, and a slow smile spread across his face.
"Khun poot Thai dai nit noi," he said slowly, almost proudly.
Ryan chuckled. "And you speak English a little. I speak Thai nit noi. Looks like we're even."
The young man typed again and held the screen up:
"ชื่อของคุณคืออะไร?"
What is your name?
Ryan tapped his answer:
"Ryan. ครูภาษาอังกฤษ"
Ryan. English teacher.
The guy's eyes lit up. "Mongkhon."
Ryan repeated the name carefully, savoring the sound. "Mongkhon… like 'blessing,' right?"
Mongkhon nodded, cheeks flushing a faint pink.
Before Ryan could say more, a woman with a ponytail walked in. She was about Ryan's age, wearing a faded T-shirt and carrying a backpack full of books.
"Hey, Ryan," she said with a tired grin as she grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge. "Still working late, huh?"
Ryan smiled back. "You know it. Ms. Patcha's got me babysitting Shakespeare tonight."
Mongkhon watched their exchange quietly, nodding as if understanding a conversation just out of reach.
The woman turned to Mongkhon and smiled. "Saw you cleaning the shelves earlier. You're doing a good job."
Mongkhon smiled back, shy but grateful.
Ryan sipped his milk tea and glanced around. The few customers left had begun to trickle in, mostly delivery drivers and students like the woman.
"Looks like this place never really sleeps," Ryan said.
The woman laughed. "7/11 is like Bangkok's second home."
Ryan laughed too. "Guess I'm going to need a membership card."
Mongkhon smiled softly and tapped on his phone again.
"คุณอยากเป็นเพื่อนกับผมหรือเปล่า?"
Do you want to be my friend?
Ryan read it carefully, then nodded with a smile.
"Yeah. I think I'd like that."
Outside, the rain had stopped completely, and the night was cool and calm.
Two strangers had just started a friendship—awkward, slow, but real.
All because of a wrong order of milk tea.