Chapter 1
The early morning of that day was bright and serene. Gentle golden light spilled over the surface of the Chao Phraya River, shimmering softly like silk. The bustling riverside market—the heart of commerce in Phra Nakhon—was alive with movement. Wooden stalls lined the riverbank one after another, while the cool fragrance of buhngarampai and dok peep mingled with the warm scent of spices and the sweet aroma of traditional desserts. The air carried the groaning squeaks of small rowing boats, competing with the vendors calling out to customers. Crowds pressed close together, painting a vivid picture of life in that era.
Khun Ying Bussaba walked gracefully along the riverside path. She wore a soft, light-blue silk gown—simple, elegant, and befitting her noble status. Her face was radiant, and her gentle eyes wandered over the dazzling array of goods displayed at each stall.
"Khun Phop, you walk far too quickly. I cannot keep up," she murmured softly, tightening her hold on the man beside her. "If the hem of my silk gown gets caught on someone's basket, what shall I do?"
Khun Chai Phop immediately slowed his pace and turned to her, eyes filled with affection. His sharp, usually stern features softened with the warmest smile reserved only for her.
"Forgive me, Bussaba. In crowds like this, I worry you'll be pushed or made weary."
He reached out and brushed her cheek tenderly.
"You worry too much! We are not even married yet—you will make people stare," she replied, half-embarrassed, half-playful. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, "But… I do like it when you worry. It makes me feel you still want me close."
Phop laughed quietly and leaned near her ear, out of sight from the crowd.
"Of course I worry… The closer we get to our wedding day, the less I wish to let you out of my sight. Waiting for the day I may care for you openly feels like torture."
Bussaba smiled sweetly. "I wait for that day just as eagerly. But be patient just a little longer."
They reached a stall selling perfumes and oils. Phop gestured toward a bottle of special jasmine oil—something she had mentioned she wanted for an upcoming ceremony.
"That jasmine oil, please," he said to the vendor. "And your finest white satin. It will be needed for an important family gathering."
While Bussaba examined the satin cloth carefully, her eyes caught sight of a familiar figure—Master Nat, the dignified woman who had taught her household crafts and traditional skills. She was accompanied by a young man.
"Master Nat!" Bussaba greeted warmly, bowing with respect. Phop also offered a polite nod.
Master Nat beamed. "My, my… Khun Chai Phop, Khun Ying Bussaba! I thought you would be busy preparing for your wedding." She gestured toward the young man beside her. "I brought Khun Phat here to look around the market. He just returned to the city to continue his studies and manage his family's business."
At the name Khun Phat, Phop froze briefly. The young man was a relative—one who had been absent from Phra Nakhon for years.
Phat, tall and refined in fine silk attire, stepped forward with a polite smile—though his eyes were sharper than they should be.
"Greetings, Brother Phop… and Khun Ying Bussaba."
Bussaba returned the smile. "It has been a long time, Khun Phat. I thought perhaps you had forgotten your home in Phra Nakhon."
"I've only just returned," he replied smoothly. "The work upcountry kept me far too busy."
Then he turned to Phop. "You look well, brother. It suits you—being so close to marriage."
His tone was polite, but his gaze lingered on Bussaba far too long.
Phop noticed immediately. He tightened his hold on Bussaba's arm in a subtle but unmistakable gesture of protection.
"Thank you, Phat. May your studies and business go smoothly."
Bussaba felt a strange heaviness in Phat's stare—he watched her too long, too intently. Something about it unsettled her.
Phop felt it too. Beneath the polite surface, there was a tension—a displeasure—that he could not yet name.
"Thank you for your time," Phop said abruptly, his voice colder. "We must return home. Many tasks await."
He almost pulled Bussaba away from the stall.
Once they boarded the family's private boat, Bussaba reached for Phop's hand.
"Khun Phop… since we met Khun Phat, you have looked troubled. Are you unwell?"
Phop gazed across the water, his eyes reflecting worry.
"It is nothing, Bussaba. Perhaps old memories from our childhood," he lied gently.
He raised her hand and pressed a kiss to it.
"You need not worry. Whatever comes, I will handle it."
Bussaba relaxed slightly, resting her head on his shoulder.
"But… Khun Phat seems troubled. His eyes looked as though he carried a heavy sorrow."
Phop fell silent, jaw tightening.
"I saw it too… but whatever burdens him have nothing to do with us."
Yet he knew this was untrue.
The heaviness in Phat's stare had not been sorrow.
It had been resentment—directed at Bussaba.
Memories resurfaced: Phat's ambition, his jealousy, his long-standing resentment over the difference in their family positions. Phop understood then—the happiness he held so closely was now threatened.
"After today," Phop said quietly, "I will no longer let you come to the market. I will have my men buy anything you need."
Bussaba looked up in confusion.
"Why, my love?"
"It is not safe," Phop answered firmly. "Until the wedding, I cannot risk anything happening to you."
She knew once Phop made a decision, nothing could change it.
"Very well… as long as you never leave me."
"I never will," he vowed. "You are my very breath."
As their boat drifted into a smaller canal toward the Phop family estate, the market faded behind them.
But one thing did not fade—
the weight of Phat's gaze,
lingering in the shadows,
waiting silently
to unravel everything they held dear.