At the entrance of the church, everyone had gathered to say goodbye to Markara.
The younger children stood in a small group, some holding onto each other, tears streaming down their faces.
Even his father, always composed, always steady, had tears in his eyes.
Markara did his best to smile, but his chest felt heavy.
He had grown deeply attached to the kids here. They were like his little siblings.
Long before Sister Vatey arrived, it had just been him and his father looking after them.
Especially after Sister Phei, the older nun, was transferred. She had served the church for years, but her age made it too hard to care for the children anymore.
When she left, Markara quietly stepped in to fill the gap.
Whenever he won a school competition, he would ask for the prize to be converted to cash.
Not for himself.
He gave it all to the church—for the kids
The church had little outside help. Sponsorships were rare.
It sat in a forgotten corner of the city, tucked between narrow streets where people passed by without noticing.
Most of the community around them followed Buddhism, small churches like theirs were often ignored.
On the other hand, Markara wasn't religious at all. He didn't believe in those things.
Not in miracles. Not in divine plans. He did it all because of his father and the children's smiles.
In the corner, Sister Vatey stood quietly—her head slightly lowered, tears slipping down her cheeks.
She had tried to stay composed, but her emotions finally broke through.
She had transferred to this church two years ago, and in that time, she and Markara had grown close. They often worked side by side—cooking meals, helping the children, organizing supplies.
She wasn't just a colleague. She had become like an older sister to him.
Now, as she watched him prepare to leave, she realized how much his presence held things together in this small church.
Outside the church gate, a cab waited with its engine running—arranged by Akari to take Markara to the airport.
The driver stood beside the car, occasionally glancing at the time, but never rushing anyone.
Markara didn't have much to bring with him.
Just a backpack slung over one shoulder and a small luggage bag with a few sets of clothes.
Markara slowly raised his hand and gave one last wave to everyone as he stepped into the cab.
The door closed with a soft click, muffling the sounds of crying children and whispered goodbyes.
As the cab pulled away from the church, he looked back through the window—watching his father, Sister Vatey, and the kids grow smaller in the distance.
Inside the cab, resting on the seat beside him, was a small black sling bag.
He glanced at it, puzzled.
"That's for you," the driver said simply, eyes on the road. "Miss Akari left it this morning."
Markara carefully unzipped the bag.
Inside were two things: a brand new smartphone and a passport.
His name was printed clearly inside the passport. The pages were fresh, the ink sharp.
Everything had been prepared.
Just before the cab reached the airport, the newly unboxed smartphone in Markara's hand began to ring.
The screen lit up with a name:
Akari.
He hesitated for a second, then answered.
"Hello?"
A calm, confident voice came through the speaker.
"Is everything to your liking?"
Akari's tone was casual—almost too relaxed for someone who had just turned his entire life upside down.
Markara took a deep breath, trying to stay polite.
"I really appreciate what you've done for me… but I still know nothing about you."
He paused for a second, then added more firmly,
"My father said you know everything about me. How is that even possible? I mean, I know it's 2025—but stalking someone is still a crime!"
His voice rose, frustration leaking through.
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Then Akari replied, completely unfazed,
"Hmm… that's enough. I'll pick you up at the airport."
Beep.
She hung up.
Markara stared at the phone, stunned.
"O-Oi! Answer me!" he shouted into the now-silent call screen.
=======
At the airport, Markara stood in awe—and confusion.
It was his first time in a place like this.
So many people, screens flashing with flights, announcements echoing overhead in different languages… It felt like stepping into another world.
He tried his best to follow the instructions—checking in, dropping off his luggage, and going through the security check—but everything felt like a puzzle he hadn't studied for.
The process was long and confusing.
He had to ask the staff for help multiple times, apologizing with an awkward smile every time he got something wrong.
By the time he finally made it to his departure gate, he collapsed into a chair with a groan.
"This is harder than solving a national math exam…" he muttered to himself, completely drained.
After a short break, Markara got up from his seat and stretched out his arms with a quiet sigh.
He still had time before the flight, so he made his way to the restroom to splash some water on his face.
The cold water helped—just enough to clear his mind.
This whole day had been a whirlwind.
Leaving home.
Saying goodbye.
Getting thrown into a strange new future by someone he barely knew.
And now he was heading to a country he'd never been to before.
Yeah… no pressure.
Markara wiped his face with a paper towel and stepped out of the restroom, ready to return to his gate.
But then, He stopped.
Just a few steps away, standing alone near the wall, was a little girl.
She couldn't have been older than ten.
She wore a fancy white dress, had her hair tied back into a simple ponytail, and clutched a small sling bag to her chest.
But what really caught his attention…
Was the look on her face.
She looked completely lost.
Eyes wide. Shoulders trembling.
She kept glancing around nervously like she didn't know where to go.
Markara's eyes softened.
Without thinking, he walked toward her slowly.
He crouched down, careful not to startle her, and gave her a gentle smile.
"Hey there," he said softly. "Are you lost? Do you need help?"
And for a moment, time stopped.
Markara blinked.
The little girl looked up at him, eyes round and filled with worry.
But all he could do was stare.
There was something about her face. He'd seen that face before.
Not exactly like hers—but similar.
Thida.
The class president.
The girl who barely ever smiled.
The one whose cold, calm expression rarely changed no matter what was happening around her.
The little girl suddenly reached out and grabbed Markara's hand, gripping it tightly.
"Please! Help me find my family!" she cried.
Her voice shook, but what caught Markara off guard was the language she used—
English. Clear. Fluent. Not a hint of an accent.
That explained it.
She must've been trying to ask for help earlier, but no one understood her.
She's not from here.
Fortunately, Markara was fluent—he had grown up speaking English with his father.
He knelt beside her again, offering a calm, reassuring smile.
"Hey, it's alright. You found the right person," he said gently. "I'll help you find them, okay?"
She nodded quickly, her small hand still clinging to his.
Markara started walking with her through the terminal, scanning for airport staff. But he could still feel how tightly she held on to him. She was scared—and he couldn't blame her.
So he started talking. Not about the situation, but just… anything to distract her.
He went on, telling stories about the kids at the church—how they once used crayons to draw faces on the statues, or tried to convince him that rice and ketchup counted as gourmet cooking.
The little girl giggled now and then, her grip on his hand loosening just a bit.
By the time they reached the information desk, she was no longer trembling.
A staff member noticed them right away and stepped forward.
"Is everything alright?" the woman asked.
Markara gave a quick nod. "She's looking for her family. She got separated."
The little girl looked up at him, still holding his hand.
He gave her a small wink.
"You'll be okay now."
"You'll be okay now," Markara said with a soft smile, giving the girl's hand one last gentle squeeze.
She nodded, and the airport staff took over from there, leading her away to search for her family.
Markara watched for a moment, making sure she was safe.
Then he turned and made his way back to his gate.
By the time he arrived, boarding had already begun.
He quickly joined the line, pulling out his ticket and passport from the sling bag Akari had prepared. The airport staff gave him a quick glance, scanned his boarding pass, and waved him through.
Markara stepped forward, his heart beating a little faster.
This was it.
He was really getting on the plane, To Japan.
To find the answer about his mother.