The temple courtyard buzzed with the activity of the morning alms. Malai knelt among the other women, her hands carefully arranging offerings of rice, fruits, and small dishes onto the monks' trays. The golden glow of the temple walls seemed to radiate peace, though Malai's thoughts were far from calm. A week had passed since Niramol returned from the goddess's lair once more, and though she tried to find comfort in her daughter's safe return, the unease in the village had only grown.
The hum of conversation shifted abruptly as a commotion rose near the temple gate. Malai turned, her curiosity piqued. Two fishermen entered, supporting a young woman between them. She was soaked, her dark hair clinging to her pale skin, her clothes torn and muddied as though she had been swept through the river.
"Who is she?" someone murmured.
"She washed up on the riverbank," one of the fishermen explained as they brought the woman closer. "She says her name is Nam. She's from a village downstream."
The woman, "Nam," lifted her head slowly, her dark eyes scanning the crowd. Though her expression was weary, there was a quiet grace to her movements, as though every step and glance was deliberate. "I'm sorry to trouble you all," Nam said softly, her voice carrying despite its gentleness. "The river carried me here after a storm overturned my boat. I have no family here and nowhere to go. If I'm a burden, I will leave as soon as I get some rest."
The elders gathered nearby exchanged skeptical glances, but before anyone could speak, Malai stepped forward. Her kind eyes softened as she took in the young woman's disheveled state. "Nonsense," Malai said warmly. "No one should be left without a roof or a meal, especially not after what you've been through." She placed a gentle hand on Nam's arm. "You'll come home with me. I have a daughter about your age—you'll fit right in."
Nam hesitated, her gaze flickering with something unreadable before she gave a deep wai and bowed her head in gratitude. "Thank you," she said. "You're very kind."
By the time they reached Malai's modest home, the sun was high in the sky. Dara was sitting in the front yard weaving a garland of flowers, her slim fingers working quickly as she hummed a tuneless melody. She looked up as they approached, her face lighting up with curiosity.
"Who's this?" Dara asked, springing to her feet.
"This is Nam," Malai said, guiding the woman forward. Dara gave a brief but respectful wai to the mysterious woman. "She washed up by the river this morning. She'll be staying with us for a while." Dara's eyes sparkled with excitement at the statement. "A new girl in the house?" she said playfully. "Finally! My sister is basically the man of the house so I'm glad to have a new friend."
Nam chuckled softly, her lips curving into a faint smile. "I bet your sister is already plenty strong and capable," she said. Dara laughed and waved a hand. "Sure, it suits her but you'll see what I mean soon enough. Wait here—I'll fetch her from the field."
As Dara dashed off, Nam followed Malai into the house. The interior was simple but warm, with bamboo walls and neatly arranged shelves holding jars of dried herbs and bundles of rice. Nam's gaze fell on a small water urn sitting on a low shelf near the kitchen. There, floating on the surface of the water, was the flower she had given Niramol.
Her expression softened, a faint smile touching her lips as her fingers brushed the petals, causing it to glow faintly.
"You can rest here," at the sound of Malai's voice, the raven haired woman jumped a bit and withdrew her hand quickly. "I'm sorry for snooping, Bpaa. I got curious…" the older looking woman chuckled and gestured to a woven mat on the floor. "No worries, dear. It's ok to wonder! Sit and I'll go fetch you some dry clothes." Nam nodded politely, sitting gracefully on the mat just as the sound of footsteps approached the door.
When Niramol entered, wiping sweat from her brow, she froze. Her dark eyes widened as she took in the familiar figure sitting in the center of the room.
"Jao—" Niramol started, but quickly stopped herself, catching the word in her throat. Nam's eyes met hers, and though her expression remained serene, there was a flicker of amusement in her gaze. Dara stepped in behind Niramol, grinning. "P'Nira, this is P'Nam. She's going to be staying with us for a while. P'Nam, this is my sister, Niramol."
Nam inclined her head, her voice calm and measured. "It's an honor to meet you, Khun Niramol."
Niramol's throat tightened and she raised her hands to wai to the disguised goddess. "The honor is mine," she said carefully. Before she could say more, Malai called from the kitchen. "Dara, come help me prepare the food!" Dara groaned but obeyed, leaving Niramol and Nam alone in the room.
The moment Dara was out of earshot, Niramol turned to Nam, her voice low and urgent. "My goddess, what are you doing here?" Nam stood, her movements as fluid as water, and closed the short distance between them. "I'm here to help," she said simply. "And… I wanted to see what your home is like."
Niramol frowned. "You could've just stayed at the waterfall. Why put yourself in danger like this?" Nam tilted her head, a playful smile curving her lips. "Danger? From your family? They've been nothing but kind to me." Her gaze flicked to Niramol's face, lingering for a moment before she added, "You, on the other hand… seem a little tense."
Niramol blinked, caught off guard. "I'm not tense," she said, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her. Nam's smile widened, and she took a step closer, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from Niramol's damp forehead. "You're sweating," she said lightly, her tone almost teasing. "Have you been working too hard, or is it my presence that's flustering you?"
Niramol's face flushed a deep red, and she took a half-step back, her hands gripping the side of her pants. "It's—it's hot," she stammered. Nam chuckled softly, her touch lingering for just a moment longer before she let her hand drop. "Of course," she said. "The heat."
Before Niramol could respond, Malai called from the kitchen again. "Girls, come eat before the food gets cold!" Nam stepped back, her expression returning to one of calm politeness. "Shall we?" she said, gesturing toward the kitchen. Niramol nodded stiffly, her cheeks still burning as she followed Nam out of the room.
At dinner, the table was filled with bowls of rice, grilled fish, and fresh vegetables. Malai and Dara chatted animatedly, asking Nam about her life and her village. "Where exactly are you from?" Malai asked, passing Nam a plate. "A small village downstream," Nam replied smoothly. "It's much like this one—quiet, surrounded by the river. But I've been away for some time, traveling."
Dara leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. "How long will you be staying here?" Nam glanced at Niramol before answering. "Not long," she said with a small smile. "Just until I regain my strength. I wouldn't want to impose on your family for too long."
"Nonsense," Malai said firmly. "You're welcome here for as long as you need. Right, Nira?" Niramol looked up from her plate, meeting Nam's gaze for a brief moment before quickly looking away. "Of course," she said quietly.
Nam's faint smile deepened, but she said nothing, returning her attention to the food. As the conversation flowed around her, Niramol couldn't shake the strange mix of tension and warmth that settled over her. Nam's presence filled the room in a way that was both unsettling and oddly comforting, and she couldn't help but wonder what this goddess-turned-stranger had planned next.
The night air was cool later that evening, a welcome contrast to the thick heat of the day. The crickets had begun their nightly chorus, their song drifting through the open windows of the small house. Inside, the glow of an oil lamp cast soft golden light over the bamboo walls, illuminating the quiet hum of life within.
After dinner, Malai stretched her arms with a tired sigh. "I'll prepare a sleeping mat for you, Nam," she said warmly. "We don't have much, but we'll make sure you're comfortable."
Nam offered her a small, polite smile. "You've already done so much for me, Bpaa Malai. Anything will be fine." Malai waved off the comment. "Nonsense. You should rest well after what you've been through." Then she turned to Niramol, her tone gentle but firm. "Nira, let Nam stay in your room tonight. You have the extra space, and it'll be better than putting her on the kitchen floor."
Niramol, who had been quietly collecting the dishes, nearly dropped a spoon. "In my room?" she echoed, her voice betraying the faintest note of alarm. "Yes," Malai said matter-of-factly, already gathering blankets. "She's our guest, after all." Dara grinned mischievously. "Maybe P'Nam will teach you how to be more ladylike," she teased. Niramol shot her a sharp look, her cheeks burning. "Go to bed, you brat." Dara laughed as she scurried off to her own room, leaving Niramol standing stiffly while Nam regarded her with amused curiosity.
—❀—
Inside Niramol's small room, the oil lamp flickered softly, casting shadows against the woven walls. It was a simple space—one low wooden bed with a thin mattress, a small shelf lined with a few folded clothes, and a basin of water outside for washing.
Niramol cleared her throat as she gestured toward the bed. "You can take the bed," she said awkwardly. "I'll sleep on the floor." Nam arched a delicate brow. "You'd give up your bed for me?"
"You're the guest," Niramol muttered, already reaching for an extra woven mat. Nam watched her for a moment before stepping forward, resting a gentle hand on Niramol's arm. "That's kind of you," she said softly, "but unnecessary." Niramol tensed slightly at the touch, but Nam's fingers were light, almost teasing as she continued. "The bed is small," Nam said, her dark eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "But I think we can share."
Niramol nearly choked on her own breath. "S-share?" Nam nodded as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. "Unless you truly prefer to sleep on the floor?" She tilted her head, her expression laced with both curiosity and playfulness. Niramol hesitated. The idea of lying next to her—this woman, this goddess—sent a rush of warmth through her chest. She wasn't sure if it was discomfort or something else entirely.
"I—" She faltered, then exhaled sharply. "Fine. But please stay on your side." Nam chuckled, stepping back. "Of course," she said lightly.
Niramol extinguished the oil lamp, plunging the room into darkness, save for the pale glow of moonlight slipping through the window. As she climbed onto the bed, she felt the mattress shift slightly as Nam lay beside her. For a long moment, they lay in silence. The air between them was warm, humming with unspoken words. Niramol lay stiffly on her side, facing away, determined not to acknowledge how close they were. Then, in the quiet, she heard Nam's voice—soft, almost amused.
"You're very tense, Niramol." Niramol gritted her teeth. "Go to sleep please, Mae Nam." Nam chuckled, the sound like water trickling over smooth stones. "Goodnight, K'Nira."
Niramol exhaled slowly, pressing her face into the pillow. This was going to be a long night.