Bangkok always felt like it was in a hurry, and I never quite managed to keep up. I walked slower, thought slower, lived slower—at least, that's what everyone said. Maybe that's why I always ended up watching life instead of jumping into it.
That afternoon, the university campus buzzed with noise. Groups of students lounged under banyan trees, trading gossip and energy drinks. I had my headphones in, but no music playing. It was easier to disappear that way.
"Hey, Kael!"
I turned, already knowing the voice. Mira—my only real friend here, mostly because she refused to take no for an answer. She was sharp-eyed and quick-tongued, with a way of prying into people's silence like she was unwrapping a gift.
"You always vanish after class," she complained, jogging up to me.
"I like my own company," I muttered, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder.
"Your own company… and your dog," she teased.
"I swear, Sorren knows more about you than I do!"
The corner of my mouth tugged upward despite myself. She wasn't wrong.
We ended up on the stone benches under the tree, the air heavy with the smell of fried dumplings and wet earth after the morning rain. Mira tilted her head, studying me in that unnerving way of hers.
"You ever think about fate?" she asked suddenly.
I raised a brow. "Fate?!"
"Yeah—like some people are meant to crash into your life no matter what. My grandma says it's all written before we're even born."
I looked away, watching a motorbike weave recklessly through the street beyond campus.
"What if the person you're supposed to meet is late?" I asked quietly. "What if you waste half your life waiting?"
Mira grinned. "Then at least it means they're worth it?"
The bell rang, scattering everyone like startled birds. Mira jumped up, slung her bag across her shoulder, and left me with that thought still burning.
That night, Sorren greeted me with the usual explosion of joy—tail wagging, ears flopping, eyes shining as if the universe had finally delivered me back to him. I collapsed onto the couch, and he clambered up after me, curling his warm little body against my ribs.
"You believe in fate, Sorren?" I asked him.
He dropped his toy bone onto my chest and barked once.
"That's not an answer."
Another bark, louder this time.
"Fine, fine," I sighed, scratching behind his ears. "Maybe you're right. Maybe there's something written for me. But it feels like I'm stuck in the prologue… like the real story hasn't even started yet."
The city outside was a storm of horns and neon lights. But in the quiet of my apartment, with Sorren breathing softly against me, I thought I could hear something else—faint, like temple bells carried on a wind too far away to touch.
I didn't know it then. But somewhere beyond this city, in a smaller town where my grandmother waited, the story I kept aching for was already waiting too.