The rain came suddenly that afternoon, heavy and silver, soaking the red roofs of Ban Phra Nuan.
Students ran for cover beneath the awnings, laughing, shouting.
Khem stayed behind in the courtyard, clutching his guitar case to his chest, waiting for the downpour to soften.
He didn't notice the man standing under the acacia tree until a low voice called out,
"You'll catch a fever if you keep standing there."
It was Mr. Phan Suttirat, the new literature teacher. His white shirt was already half-wet, hair darkened by the rain, a stack of papers held over his head.
Khem hesitated, then crossed toward him.
"Sir, I'm fine," he said quietly.
Phan chuckled. "No one's fine in this weather."
He handed Khem his umbrella,black, worn, one rib slightly bent. Their fingers brushed for a split second.
The temple bell rang again in the distance.Both of them looked up.
There was no wind.
"Strange," Phan murmured. "That bell's supposed to ring only on Sundays."
Khem said nothing, gripping the umbrella tighter.
They walked together to the school gate. Phan kept his tone light, asking about classes, music, what songs Khem liked to play.
When he learned that Khem wrote his own pieces, his eyes lit up.
Phan said:"You should let me hear one someday. I used to play piano in college
Khem answered: maybe .the single word softer than rain.
Before they parted ways, Phan added, "You know, your name,it's unusual. Khem... Beautiful, but rare."
Khem froze. "Please… don't say it out loud again."
"Sorry," Phan said quickly, sensing the weight behind the plea.He didn't ask why
That night, thunder crawled across the hills.
Khem dreamed he was standing in the temple courtyard, rain turning to ash around him.
A woman's silhouette appeared in the doorway,hair flowing like smoke.
Her voice was calm and cruel.
Nira:"You let him speak your name. Do you wish him to die too?"
He woke with a gasp. The bracelet on his wrist burned cold.
The next day, Khem found a small note tucked into his guitar case:
"Rain's forecast again. Don't forget the umbrella—Phi."
He smiled in spite of himself. But when he folded the note, a drop of water slid from its edge and landed on his hand.The paper was perfectly dry.
To be continued...