[Cozy Breakfast Café - Morning]
Rain met Pai at a small café near campus, his stomach in knots.
He'd decided to come, partly because he needed normalcy, partly because he wanted to see if Pai would act differently now that Rain had ended things with Phayu.
Pai stood when Rain arrived, his smile warm and genuine. "You look tired. Rough night?"
"You could say that." Rain slid into the booth. "P'Pai, I need to tell you something."
"Okay." Pai's expression grew serious.
"What's wrong?"
"I know who you are. Prapai Theerapanyakul. I know you're connected to Phayu's family." Rain watched for his reaction. "Why did you lie about your name?"
Prapai—didn't look surprised or defensive.
Instead, he nodded slowly. "You're right. I should have been honest from the start. Can I explain?"
"Please."
"My family was concerned about Phayu's relationship with you. They sent me to... assess the situation. To see if you were okay." Prapai met Rain's eyes. "And yes, I lied about my name because 'Theerapanyakul' would have scared you off immediately."
"It should have," Rain said quietly.
"Probably. But Rain, everything else has been real. My interest in your work, my enjoyment of our conversations, my—" he paused, "—my feelings for you. None of that was fake."
Rain felt his heart skip. "Feelings?"
Prapai reached across the table but didn't touch Rain, respecting his space. "I like you, Rain. A lot. And I know the timing is terrible, and I know you just got out of a relationship with my cousin. But I wanted you to know the truth before you heard it from someone else."
"I broke up with Phayu," Rain blurted out.
"Last night. Via text. And then I blocked him."
Prapai's eyes widened. "Are you okay? Is he... has he reacted?"
"I don't know. I blocked him before he could respond." Rain's hands shook slightly.
"P'Pai—I need to know something. Your family, they're... they're not just business people, are they?"
The silence stretched between them.
Finally, Prapai spoke. "No. They're not. And I can't give you details, Rain. But I can tell you that my family has been worried about you for months. They saw what Phayu was becoming, how he was treating you. That lunch last week? That was them trying to assess if you needed help."
"Did I pass their test?" Rain asked bitterly.
"It wasn't a test. It was them recognizing someone in pain and wanting to help."
Prapai leaned forward. "Rain, I know you don't have any reason to trust me. I lied to you, I'm connected to Phayu, and my family is... complicated. But I promise you—we're on your side. Not Phayu's. Yours."
Rain wanted to believe him. God, he wanted to believe him so badly.
"Phayu asked to meet me today," Rain admitted. "In the park. He said he wanted one last conversation."
Prapai's expression darkened. "You didn't agree, did you?"
"I said no. And then I blocked him."
"Good." Prapai pulled out his phone. "Rain, I need you to do something for me. My family can protect you, but only if you let us. Will you let me help you?"
Rain looked at this man—this kind, patient, honest man who happened to be part of a dangerous world.
"Yes," Rain whispered. "I'm scared, P'Pai. I'm so scared."
"I know," Prapai said gently.
"But you're not alone anymore. I promise."
[The Park - 2 PM]
Phayu stood at "their spot"—the bench where he'd first told Rain he loved him—checking his watch.
2:15 PM. Rain was late.
2:30 PM. No sign of him.
By 3 PM, Phayu understood.
Rain wasn't coming.
Had blocked him.
Had actually followed through with leaving.
Phayu's phone buzzed.
His security team.
Security: Target is at breakfast café with Prapai Theerapanyakul. They've been there for two hours. Appeared to be deep in conversation. Target is currently laughing.
Rain was with Prapai, laughing, while Phayu waited alone in the park.
The betrayal cut deeper than anything.
Phayu made a call. "Change of plans. I need Rain picked up. Today. I don't care how. Just bring him to the penthouse."
"Sir, are you sure—"
"Do it. Now."
If Rain wouldn't come to him willingly, Phayu would make other arrangements..
The game had changed.
And Phayu always won his games...
