The canteen's cacophony fades into a distant hum as the shrill ring of the bell slices through the air. Beam's eyes, wide and expectant, dart to the clock on the wall, then back to Fah's face.
"Seems like we're out of time," she snaps, her head tilting slightly with irritation. "We'll continue this after class, alright?"
Fah nods, her throat tight, her voice a silent prisoner. As her friends gather their things, a wave of relief crashes over her, its respite as fleeting as the shadows cast by the clouds above. Her secret remains hers, for now.
Nara's fingers lace through Fah's with an assurance that steadies the tremble in her hands. "I'm here," Nara whispers, her gaze locking with Fah's in a silent promise that speaks louder than words.
-The Wooden Bench-
With the last of her friends' footsteps receding, Fah allows herself to be led away from the chatter of the canteen, from the echo of half-eaten confessions. They navigate the campus pathways, past the worn wooden seats of lecture halls and the subtle clicking of keyboards in the library. The Thai heat presses down around them, but Nara's presence is a cool oasis.
They find refuge in a secluded garden tucked away behind the main academic building, where the golden light filters through the leaves and the world beyond ceases to exist. It's one of those quiet corners that the campus unwittingly provides—a sanctuary within a sanctuary.
"Are you alright?" Nara asks, her voice the soft whisper of turning pages, her eyes searching Fah's for any sign of fracture.
Fah leans into Nara's touch, her heart a fluttering bird against the cage of her ribs. She breathes in the scent of tropical foliage mixed with the faint perfume of Nara's skin, a grounding tether amidst the whirlwind of emotions.
"It's just... difficult," Fah confesses, the words stumbling over each labored breath. "Telling the truth like this—it's exhausting me."
"Then face it," Nara responds, her thumb gently tracing soothing circles on the back of Fah's hand. "When you're ready, I'll stand by you. Every step of the way."
In Nara's embrace, Fah finds the courage she thought had deserted her. Here, shielded by the intimacy of intertwined fingers and shared silence, Fah allows herself to feel the full weight of her vulnerability—and the surprising strength it reveals.
"Thank you," she murmurs, her voice no longer a captive but a free-flying bird. "For being my safe place."
Nara smiles, a gentle sunrise that banishes the lingering shadows from Fah's heart. And in that moment, carved out of time and hidden from prying eyes, they are simply two souls clinging to the fragile bloom of something beautiful.
Golden sunlight streams through the trees, painting shifting patterns on a quiet corner of campus where Fah and Nara sit closely together. The outside world feels distant—a mere whisper overwhelmed by the steady rhythm of their intertwined hearts.
Yet, life inevitably refuses to be contained.
The sudden crunch of footsteps over gravel shatters the silence, abrupt and unwelcome. Fah's eyes fly open, her heart leaping like a startled deer as Beam's familiar figure appears, accompanied by Phat and Ton.
Beam stops abruptly; her usual relaxed smile dissolves into one of wide-eyed shock. Tension fills the air, heavy with unspoken questions and the lingering echo of disrupted intimacy.
Ton's expression remains unmoved, though his eyes betray an inner acknowledgement—as if the pieces of a long-resolved puzzle have finally snapped into place. Nara's rejection and the intimacy she now shares with Fah make sense to him, a silent nod of understanding marking his acceptance.
Phat stands frozen, his jaw clenched as his carefully constructed illusions collapse, leaving his vulnerability exposed. His gaze darts between Fah and Nara, desperate for some form of denial that never arrives.
Under the weight of their stares, Fah feels her world begin to tremble. Her heart pounds rapidly, as if trying to break free from its confines. She is undeniably caught, and the fear of exposure wraps around her throat like icy fingers.
"Beam, I..." she begins, her voice reduced to a trembling whisper, swallowed by the storm of emotions raging within her.
Her mind races, replaying every shared glance and every secret whisper exchanged with Nara. How much had been witnessed? How much had been understood?
Turning to Nara for comfort, Fah finds solace in the steady pressure of Nara's hand—a silent promise that steadies her inner tremors.
Meanwhile, Phat's inner world crumbles as he remains rooted in place. His eyes wide and unblinking, he watches the scene unfold. The air feels heavy, oppressive, as if every breath is being siphoned away. Desperately, he tries to reconcile what he sees with the carefully nurtured fantasy he'd clung to for so long. The memory of a stolen moment weeks ago—when Nara and Fah had kissed in a way Phat had once dismissed as a trick of the light—comes crashing back with brutal clarity.
Then Beam's voice suddenly slices through the silence like a knife, sharp and accusatory. "How could you?" she shouts, her face twisted with anger and betrayal. "All this time, you've been lying to us!"
Each word strikes Fah like a physical blow. Instinctively, her free hand reaches for the comfort of Nara's—though even that now feels tainted by Beam's accusation.
Phat's hands clench into fists, his body trembling with emotions he can't name—denial, hurt, confusion. Deep down, he knows the truth. He saw it. He just didn't want to believe it. A surge of pain twists inside him, morphing into anger. Every glance exchanged, every moment he overlooked, every time he let himself believe there was still a chance with Fah—they all come rushing back, now coloured with deception. Had he been deliberately blind? Had he ignored the signs because he wanted to believe in something that was never there?
And worse—had he failed them as a friend?
The weight of that thought is unbearable. And as Fah stands before him, unable to meet his eyes, he realises something even worse.
She was never his to lose.
Nara fixes her gaze on Beam, her expression calm yet unreadable. She understands exactly what Beam is accusing them of but she remains stoic, unwilling to confirm or deny anything until Fah speaks.
Ton shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flitting among the gathered group before finally settling on Fah. He senses the turmoil roiling within her and longs to offer some word of comfort.
"How long has this been going on?" Beam demands, her voice trembling with raw emotion.
Fah swallows hard, suppressing a lump in her throat as she meets Beam's accusing gaze directly. "It...I didn't plan it," she stammers. "It just happened."
Beam scoffs in disbelief. "Just happened? So it was some sort of accident?"
"No," Fah quickly shakes her head. "I mean... we never intended for this to occur."
Beam's eyes narrow, her voice dripping with contempt. "And yet it did happen," she says accusingly. "You chose to betray us, you both did."
Fah flinches at the harshness in Beam's words, her heart aching with guilt and regret. She knows she has betrayed her friends' trust, and there is no excuse that could ever justify it.
"We never intended for anyone to get hurt," Nara interjects calmly but firmly. "We were just... confused and scared."
"Confused?" Phat echoes in disbelief. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you kissed Fah."
Phat's words hang in the air like a thunderclap, sending shockwaves through the group. Fah's breath catches in her throat, her mind reeling as she desperately tries to recall when and where Phat could have seen them. The garden around them seems to close in, the once-comforting foliage now feeling claustrophobic and oppressive.
Nara's composure falters for a moment, her eyes widening slightly before she regains control.
Ton takes a deliberate step back, his eyes calm and unwavering, as they dart between Phat and the couple. His demeanour remains unruffled as though he knew. Then his attention shifts to Beam. Her furrowed brow and clenched fists relax for a moment, her expression softening into one of astonishment. Her lips part in a small, silent 'o', reflecting the turmoil inside her as she grapples with the weight of Phat's revelation, unsure whether to embrace or reject what she's just learned.
Fah's thoughts race, flashing through every stolen moment, every secret rendezvous.
Had it been that evening in the library, when they'd stolen a moment between the towering shelves, thinking themselves hidden in the labyrinth of books? Or perhaps that rainy afternoon when they'd sought shelter in the empty music room, their lips meeting to the rhythm of raindrops on the window?
Fah takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain herself without making things worse. She knows she cannot undo what has happened, but she wants her friends to understand that she never meant any harm.
"I was struggling with my feelings for Nara," Fah admits honestly. "I didn't know how to handle them or how anyone would react if they found out."
Phat listens intently as Fah continues, his mind trying to process the truth of her words. He had never considered the possibility that Fah might have feelings for Nara too.
"I never intended for things to escalate like this," Fah adds with regret.
Beam's face contorts with rage, her eyes blazing with a fury that seems to set the very air ablaze. "You never intended?" she spits, her voice rising to a shrill crescendo that echoes through the garden. "How dare you stand there and act like this just happened to you! You made choices, Fah. You chose to lie, to sneak around behind our backs!"
The force of Beam's words hits Fah like a physical blow, causing her to stumble back. Nara instinctively moves closer, her arm wrapping protectively around Fah's waist.
"And you!" Beam rounds on Nara, her finger jabbing accusingly in the air. "You transfer here, worm your way into our group, and then what? Decide to play with people's feelings for fun? Was this all some sort of game to you?"
Nara opens her mouth to respond, but Beam cuts her off with a savage gesture. "I don't want to hear it! I trusted you both, and you betrayed that trust. You betrayed all of us!"
Beam's words hang in the air, sharp and cutting, as the late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the garden. The once-peaceful sanctuary now feels like a battleground, with emotions as raw and exposed as open wounds.
As Beam's chest heaves with ragged breaths, her eyes dart wildly between Fah and Nara. The betrayal she feels is palpable, a living thing that seems to pulse in the air around them. Suddenly, as if the weight of it all becomes too much to bear, Beam turns on her heel and bolts.
Her footsteps thunder against the gravel path, scattering pebbles in her wake. Beam's figure blurs through a veil of angry tears as she runs, her sobs echoing off the weathered walls of nearby buildings. The sound is heart-wrenching, a keening wail of friendship shattered and trust destroyed.
Ton hesitates for a split second, his eyes darting between the fleeing Beam and the stunned figures of Fah and Nara. With a small, apologetic nod to Fah, he takes off after Beam, his longer strides eating up the distance between them.
"Beam, wait!" Ton's voice carries on the breeze, a mixture of concern and desperation. His figure grows smaller.
As Beam and Ton's figures recede into the distance, the garden falls into an eerie silence. The air grows thick with tension, punctuated only by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds, oblivious to the human drama unfolding beneath them.
Phat's mind reels, replaying every interaction, every shared laugh, every moment he thought held a hidden promise. The weight of realization crashes over him like a tidal wave, each memory now tainted with the bitter taste of what could have been.
Unable to withstand the force of his inner turmoil, Phat's legs begin to buckle. His solid frame, usually so dependable, now feels as fragile as a leaf in a storm. The vibrant greenery of the garden blurs into an indistinct whirl of colour, and the ground beneath him seems unsteady—as though the earth itself were shifting.
Thud. He collapses onto the ground. His typically warm and inviting eyes are now clouded by a storm of thoughts, seemingly fixated on the ground as though trying to avoid a painful reality. His gaze barely lifts, as if the weight of his emotions has grounded his eyes in the dirt below.
Fah's heart pounds violently against her chest, each thud resonating with her rising anxiety. She steals a glance at Nara, whose hand remains intertwined with hers in a grip that feels like a lifeline tossed in turbulent seas. Turning back to Phat, she notices the familiar contours of his face now etched with lines of hurt and confusion. Her voice quivers, barely a whisper, as she tries to speak, "Phat, I—"
Before she can continue, Nara gently interjects, "I didn't want things to fall apart like this," her tone calm and compassionate—a soft gesture meant to share the burden of their unspoken truth. Phat's eyes dart up to meet Nara's, and for a fleeting moment, she glimpses the inner chaos mirrored back at her. But as she maintains eye contact, another emotion surfaces - a flicker of comprehension.
He takes a deep breath, and slowly releases it through pursed lips. His shoulders slump under the weight of his emotions, but he doesn't look away. "I never thought... I never intended to hurt anyone," he finally confesses, his voice strained with emotion.
Fah reaches out and gently lays her hand atop Phat's, offering comfort in the simplest way she knows. "We know," she murmurs softly. "We never meant for this to happen either."
Nara nods in quiet agreement, her grip on Fah's hand firming as she adds, "We simply got caught up in the moment... and didn't realise until it was too late."
Phat takes a few moments to process their words before speaking again. "I don't know what to do now," he admits, his voice filled with uncertainty.
Fah squeezes his hand reassuringly. "We'll figure it out together," she says with determination.
For a few moments, the three friends sit in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and emotions. The sun sets behind them, casting the garden in golden light.
Eventually, Phat breaks the silence, his voice hesitant. "I need some time to process everything," he admits, the words lingering in the air.
Fah and Nara share a brief, understanding glance, their expressions acknowledging the sudden rush of emotions. The tension is palpable, unspoken words and swirling feelings hanging like an approaching storm. Together, they remain seated under the harsh glow of fluorescent lights, which cast an unforgiving brightness over the heavy truths now laid bare.
-The Next Day-
The following day, the campus thrums with a symphony of hushed voices, whispers weaving like restless leaves caught in a brisk wind. Rumours of Fah and Nara's relationship ripple through the corridors, curling around canteen tables, and slipping into the secluded nooks where students retreat to escape the midday sun's oppressive heat.
Amidst the whispers, some voices lift with encouragement, their smiles and nods offering Fah a silent camaraderie that uplifts her weary spirit. Yet, others slice through with envy and disdain, particularly from those who once admired Nara from the shadows, their affection now souring into bitter resentment.
"Did you hear about Nara?" a voice slithers as Fah strides past, the word 'about' stretched taut with insinuation.
"Such a waste," another voice sneers, the words clinging to Fah like an unwelcome shadow.
Fah maintains her composure, her chin high, even as the unwanted attention bears down on her like a heavy fog, a relentless reminder of the judgment they now endure. The campus, once a landscape of comforting routines, has become a maze fraught with whispers and piercing gazes at every turn.
Yet, amidst the clamour of the gossiping crowd, Fah finds solace in Nara's steadfast presence. Together, they navigate the swirling sea of rumours, two ships resolutely charting the same course. Each exchanged look and gentle touch fortifies the unspoken language of their connection—an enduring vow that no tide of disapproval can wash away.
Fah absentmindedly runs her fingers along the spine of a textbook as she sits on a bench in the canteen. Around her, whispers ebb and flow like a tide, leaving behind a residue of judgment that clings to her every pore.
With a slow exhale, she tries to concentrate on her breathing, ignoring the persistent weight of the stares that linger. She's under the microscope of her peers' curiosity, their expectations pressing down like the oppressive humidity that hangs over the campus.
"Hey," Nara's voice cuts through the fog of Fah's thoughts, gentle yet firm. Her hand reaches for Fah's, a lifeline amidst the storm of uncertainty. That simple touch offers silent reassurance, an unspoken promise of support.
They walk together, Nara's stride steady and confident, a stark contrast to the fluttering in Fah's chest. Side by side, they navigate through the whispers that dart out like fish in shallow water, quick and sharp.
"Let them talk," Nara murmurs with a composed and graceful air, her voice smooth and poised, exuding a sense of calm assurance. "I love you, Fah. We know our truth."
In those words, Fah feels the ground firm beneath her feet. She looks into Nara's eyes and sees a reflection of her own determination. In Nara's gaze, she glimpses not just herself, but who she can become—someone free from the chains of expectation, open to love and be loved without hesitation.
Together, they move forward, their journey defined not by the whispers left in their wake, but by the quiet understanding that exists between them—a language of glances and touches that speaks far more than any rumour ever could.
Fah rounds the corner by the old banyan tree, its roots meandering across the pathway like the tangled whispers that have woven themselves into her days. The laughter from a cluster of students fractures the humid afternoon air, and she knows without looking that it's aimed at her, sharp as thorns.
"Look, here comes Nara's unworthy admirer," one of them sneers, voices dripping with a malice all too familiar. Another chimes in, "I guess some people will do anything to seem interesting, huh?"
Her heart stutters, then races, each beat a drum echoing her flight response. She wants to run, to escape the piercing gaze of their judgment. But her feet betray her, moving with mechanical precision along the path, unwilling to show the falter she feels clawing up her throat.
"Eventually, Nara will get tired of Fah." The words hung in the air, each syllable hitting Fah with a jolt that shook her to her core. Her self-assurance, once solid and unwavering, now teetered like a candle caught in a gust. Her hands clenched into fists, yet she couldn't decide if it was out of anger or fear, the tension making her knuckles turn ghostly white. Her brow furrowed as doubt began to cast its shadow across her face, challenging the usual brightness in her eyes but leaving her unsure whether to stand her ground or crumble.
"Enough," she mutters under her breath, her voice barely a whisper even to her own ears, yet it stands as a defiant battle cry against the storm raging inside her mind. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she forces them back, commanding them to retreat behind the walls of determination she has meticulously constructed over time. She fixes her gaze ahead, where the horizon is painted with the golden hues of the approaching sunset, offering a silent promise that this day, and this moment of turmoil, will soon come to an end.
"Are you okay?" Nara's voice, soft and soothing, wraps around Fah like a warm embrace. She stands close, her presence a reassuring anchor in the midst of uncertainty. Her eyes, filled with concern and empathy, meet Fah's, instantly dispelling the weight of worry and making the world feel a little brighter and more manageable.
"Better now," Fah responds, her voice a shaky thread attempting to sound strong. They move away from the crowd, seeking solace under the protective branches of a blooming plumeria tree, its white flowers standing out against the darkening sky.
"Are you certain?" Nara whispers gently, her fingers wrapping around Fah's, weaving them together. "You know I love you, right? I wouldn't choose anyone else over you."
Fah gazes at their intertwined hands, a tangible symbol of their unseen connection, and takes a deep breath, allowing the fragrance of plumeria to fill her lungs and momentarily push away the pain. "Whether they know me or not doesn't matter. It's the way they look at me, like I'm... different."
"You are different," Nara counters with a gentle smile, "in all the ways that matter. You're kind, intelligent, and brave. Far braver than any of them could understand."
"Brave?" Fah echoes, scepticism shadowing her tone. "I feel anything but brave."
"Courage isn't the absence of fear, Fah," Nara insists, squeezing her hand. "It's facing the world head-on even when you're terrified. And you do it every day."
"Because of you," Fah admits, allowing the truth of her words to wash over her like a cleansing monsoon rain. "You anchor me."
Nara's other hand lifts to cup Fah's cheek, her thumb brushing away a rogue tear that has escaped despite Fah's best efforts. "We anchor each other," she corrects. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together."
"Thank you," Fah whispers, leaning into the touch, allowing herself to feel the full weight of Nara's support. "For being my safe space."
"Always," Nara replies.