After days of intense work, the shooting coincided with a holiday in Thailand, so the crew also took a break. That evening, Eric rent a yacht and invited Yeh, Lin, and Fiona onboard. The vessel was small, comfortably holding six people, yet the limited space created an atmosphere of unexpected intimacy. Yeh had never been out on the water in Bangkok before, and she found herself looking forward to the three-hour cruise with undisguised anticipation.
They set sail from the pier promptly at eight o'clock. Night had fully settled, turning the river a deep, velvety blue while the city lights flickered in the distance. The seating was split into two sides; Eric, Fiona, and the captain occupied one side, leaving Yeh and Lin alone on the other. The arrangement seemed random, yet it closed the distance between Yeh and Lin until there was nowhere left to hide.
As the boat picked up speed, the motion of the yacht was more pronounced than Yeh had expected. Instinctively, she reached out and grabbed Lin's arm. Lin didn't flinch or pull away; instead, she simply turned her hand and laced their fingers together, holding on firmly as if it were the most natural response in the world. There was no question asked, no awkward pause—it happened seamlessly.
In that instant, the tension drained out of Yeh. She didn't let go. By the time the yacht cruised into the open river and the waters smoothed out, the earlier rocking felt less like a disturbance and more like a perfect excuse.
Eric opened a bottle of red wine and poured it into disposable plastic cups. The rims were thin and light, yet holding one felt surprisingly grounding. On the other side of the boat, Fiona's laughter cut through the air, light and frequent, leaving Yeh and Lin wrapped in their own comfortable silence.
They began talking about past travels. It started casually, listing cities and sights, until their stories began to overlap. They both mentioned Barcelona at the exact same moment, stopping mid-sentence before sharing a smile.
"You love it too?" Lin asked.
"Yes," Yeh nodded. "Art, history, the sea... it feels alive."
Lin looked at Yeh, as if confirming a suspicion. "Me too."
The alignment was effortless, requiring no explanation. Just like so many other things between them, it was quiet, but understood completely.
The conversation shifted to Yeh's road trip across America a few years ago with her high school deskmate, Alex. She spoke of her childhood obsession with Home Alone- Lost in New York and how she had insisted on retracing the protagonist's steps, her tone light but revealing a deep-seated sentimentality. She mentioned New York, Boston, and the quiet seaside town of Manchester-by-the-Sea—a place she had specifically driven to because of the movie with the same name.
Lin listened, her expression softening. "Everywhere you go... it's because of a film." She paused, then added simply, "You're such a romantic."
Yeh turned to look at her, with her voice steady. "Aren't you?"
When Lin learned that the trip in USA had been just the two of them, a faint, sharp pang of jealousy pricked at her chest, though she hid it well. What she didn't know yet was that Alex was more than just a friend; they had been inseparable since high school, sharing a bond that had once briefly flirted with something more. But in the end, they had discovered their true selves together, realizing they were both chasing the same kind of love—just in different directions. Yeh had found she liked women; Alex had found he liked men.
Later, they moved out onto the deck. The night air was cooler here, carrying the sharp, clean scent of water that cleared their heads. The lights along the Chao Phraya River drifted past like a timeline, pulling them momentarily out of their reality.
They talked about their first impressions of each other back then. Their words were careful, avoiding anything as direct as "like," yet every sentence drew them closer.
"I thought you were really unapproachable at first," Lin admitted.
"And now?" Yeh asked.
"Now I know," Lin said, her voice soft against the wind, "you're just slow. Not cold."
Yeh didn't answer immediately, just stared out at the water. The breeze tangled her hair, but she didn't bother smoothing it down. She knew that description hit closer to home than any compliment could.
The boat rocked gently, a softer motion this time. Lin reached for Yeh's hand first, and this time, she didn't let go.
The contact was constant and warm, made vivid by the darkness. Neither of them felt the need to define it or question it. It had simply stopped being an accident, and started being something they chose.