Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rin sighed deeply, her tired eyes fixed on the darkened screen of her personal computer, which had long since gone idle. The silence in her office was broken only by the soft, repetitive tapping of her fingernails against the polished wooden desk, forming a restless rhythm. Her other hand pressed against her forehead, supporting her head as if the weight of her thoughts had become too much to bear. She leaned forward slightly, her posture weary, her mind a storm of unfinished tasks, unanswered messages, and lingering doubts. The air felt heavy, thick with the tension of a day that had stretched on too long without resolution.

She sighed once again, straightening up in her seat as she reached for her phone. The screen lit up, but no notifications appeared, only the wallpaper stared back at her… a photo of her and her so-called ‘husband,’ Khemjira, one of many couple pictures Khemjira had insisted they take together.

Rin smiled faintly, her eyes lingering on the image. Khemjira pressed a kiss to her cheek while she wore a surprised, flustered expression. She remembered frowning the first time she saw it set as her wallpaper, having discovered that Khemjira had changed it herself without asking. But when Rin turned to protest, Khemjira beamed with such pride and mischief that Rin, ever shy about such small gestures, hadn’t had the heart to change it back.

She could still recall how her friends teased her over the photo, their voices playful and curious. And yet, even now… two months later, the wallpaper remained unchanged, just as vivid and warm as the memory it captured.

Her fingers hovered for a moment before pressing the call button on the all-too-familiar number. The soft, repetitive beep of the dial tone echoed in her ear, each second stretching longer than the last, stirring a quiet restlessness in her chest. Even after months of reconciliation, the fear still lingered that familiar ache in her heart, whispering that the call might go unanswered. That silence. That possibility. It was a scene she had lived through before, and one her heart hadn’t fully healed from. The anxiety crept in, subtle yet sharp, a reminder that some wounds leave shadows long after they’ve supposedly closed.

“Dear wife~” A cheerful voice answered, teasing. Rin could easily imagine the wide grin on her ‘puppy’ of a husband as she picked up the call. In that instant, her restless heart eased, and her anxiety vanished like morning mist.

Khemjira had answered. She did.

Silence.

“Khun Rin?” Khemjira’s gentle voice drifted through the silence, warm and tentative, as if afraid to disturb it.

“Khem…” The single word slipped from her lips, laced with both longing and exhaustion. Rin couldn’t explain the confusion knotting inside her… how her heart and mind now pulled in different directions, refusing to align the way they once had.

A hush fell over them, thick and lingering.

Then soft as the flutter of a petal falling, a giggle broke the silence. It wasn’t playful this time, but tender, warm, the kind of sound that reached straight into Rin’s chest and tugged at her.

“Khun Rin,” Khemjira’s voice curled around her name like a caress, “did you miss this little puppy?” A pause, and the quiet chime of another laugh. “Even if you won’t say it, I can tell…” She smiled through her words, the curve of it audible. “And it’s okay, even if you don’t…” Another teasing, feather-light laugh followed, brushing against Rin like the touch of a familiar hand.

Rin smiled as she brushed her hair back, leaning into her seat. How did this person always seem to know exactly what she felt and thought like she carried a secret guide to Rin hidden in the palm of her hand?

“Yeah You!” The familiar, mock-scolding tone slipped out, the one she always used whenever Khemjira teased her. It wasn’t that she hated it… far from it. It was just that this young woman had an uncanny talent for getting under her skin.

“Yeah, Khun Rin?” Khemjira replied, her voice feigning innocence, the act betrayed by the giggle that followed.

“I was just checking if your team needs any help…” Rin said, her tone casual but her words laced with the same quiet concern she could never quite hide.

Khemjira paused, as if weighing her words, before finally speaking. “We’re doing okay,” she announced with quiet pride. The sweetness in her voice spilled into a soft laugh, light and airy that drifted through the phone and brushed against Rin’s heart. It lingered there, fluttering like the wings of a delicate bird, refusing to fade.

Khemjira’s design team had been chosen to work alongside a renowned furniture designer, a prestigious opportunity awarded after they won a recent in-house competition. It was the kind of experience most designers dreamed of, and Rin couldn’t be prouder of her ‘husband.’

But the downside was hard to ignore. She barely saw her anymore.

Before, Khemjira would seize every little chance to drop by Rin’s office and spoil her. Now, she had been away for a week, and the spacious office felt emptier than ever. Even at home, their paths rarely crossed by the time Khemjira returned, Rin would already be asleep, and when she awoke the next morning, Khemjira had long gone to work.

Homework? Long forgotten.

“Hmm…” Rin let out a long, agreeable hum, followed by a soft sigh. “If that’s how it is… okay then,” she added, her voice gentle yet tinged with resignation. Her fingernails tapped lightly against the desk, as if the sound might somehow fill the quiet space of her office, particularly the emptiness in her heart.

Rin was about to end the call when Khemjira’s voice came through again, soft, but with that eager note she always carried.

“Khun Rin!”

Rin froze, waiting.

“I’ll be back before six,” Khemjira said at last. There was a pause… then her voice softened into something almost tender. “And Wife, I really miss you.”

The line went silent.

Rin’s heart thudded hard in her chest. A smile tugged at her lips as she stared down at the device in her hand, warmth blooming where only emptiness had lingered moments ago.

Chapter Text

The night was cool, the gentle chirping of crickets weaving through the stillness like a lullaby. A faint breeze slipped through the open window, carrying with it the scent of damp earth after the evening drizzle. Khemjira lounged lazily in her favourite seat… the very one Rin used to toss her from whenever annoyance flared between them. The cushion had long since moulded to her shape, embracing her like an old friend. She sat reclined with ease, legs loosely crossed, fingers gliding over her phone screen as she scrolled through an endless thread of catalogue furniture designs. Each elegant curve, each intricate detail sparked ideas for future projects, her mind cataloguing them for later use.

The soft glow of the screen lit her face, pulling her deeper into her little world until the sudden trill of a ringtone sliced through the quiet.

The sound came from the bed just a few steps away. Instantly, her body leaned forward, the comfortable weight of the night slipping away. Her fingers reached for the device almost on instinct, but froze the moment her eyes caught the name flashing across the screen. For a fraction of a second, her heart stuttered, her breath caught. That name, so familiar, so deeply carved into her soul was one she knew she would never, could never, forget for as long as she lived.

Prapai.

Khemjira couldn’t help but wonder if fate was teasing her. As if the name on the phone wasn’t enough to stir her heart, the soft sound of footsteps drew her gaze toward the doorway. There, framed by the warm light of the bedroom, her wife stepped in fresh from the shower, a robe cinched snugly around her figure. Droplets still clung to her damp hair, catching the light like scattered gems.

The familiar scent hit Khemjira almost instantly, a mix of the floral shampoo and creamy body wash she adored. It drifted through the air, wrapping around her like an invisible embrace, tugging her senses closer. Her eyes lingered, tracing every unhurried step, every subtle shift of the robe’s folds. It was a sight both domestic and utterly intoxicating, the kind of simple beauty that could make her forget the world outside.

Rin arched her brow, catching the fleeting shift in Khemjira’s expression. For a moment, she looked utterly caught off guard, stunned, even as her gaze met Rin’s. Then, almost abruptly, her eyes darted back to the device resting on the bed, her face smoothing into a blank mask. Words seemed to fail her, leaving only a silence thick enough to be felt.

Rin stepped closer, her eyes narrowing with quiet curiosity as she reached for the device resting on the bed. The moment her gaze landed on the name flashing across the screen, her expression shifted, mirroring the surprise she had just seen on Khemjira’s face. She lifted her eyes to her wife, catching the way Khemjira straightened in her seat, feigning a calm she didn’t feel. The act might have fooled anyone else, but Rin read her like an open book.

Rin let out a quiet sigh as she accepted the call, but what happened next caught Khemjira completely off guard. Without a word, Rin stepped into her space and settled herself between Khemjira’s dangling legs. She leaned back until her body was pressed against her wife’s, one arm slipping around her waist in a slow, deliberate pull. The familiar scent of Rin’s freshly washed hair and warm skin drifted up to Khemjira’s senses, dissolving the knot of tension in her chest and replacing it with a comforting warmth that spread through her whole being.

“Hello, Pai…” Rin’s voice was soft, almost melodic, as the name slipped past her lips.

The sound alone made Khemjira shift, her body instinctively leaning closer until her forehead found its place in the curve of Rin’s neck. She breathed in deeply, as if the scent of her wife could anchor her heart and steady the whirlwind in her mind.

Rin felt the subtle change in the way Khemjira’s arms, already wrapped snugly around her waist, tightened ever so slightly at the mention of that name. It wasn’t forceful, just enough for Rin to feel it… a quiet confession of the tension she carried, wordless yet heavy with meaning.

“P’Rin…” came from the voice on the phone.

Rin swallowed. A call that once sent her heart racing now felt strangely distant, stripped of the old thrill it used to bring. She wondered if this was her mind and heart finally learning to be reasonable… or if whatever she once felt had simply begun to fade. She still cared, she knew she did but not in the way she used to. Perhaps it wasn’t indifference at all, but healing. Perhaps it was because she had found something deeper, steadier, in Khemjira’s love… a love that had quietly mended the places she didn’t even realise were broken.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh, nothing. Just checking in. I haven’t heard you around lately…”

Rin sighed, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m good. We’re both doing good, actually…”

“Nong Khem?” A faint laugh drifted through the speaker. “I heard you’ve registered your marriage. Congrats…”

“We did.” Rin’s gaze flicked toward Khemjira, her eyes softening as she felt the arm wrapped snugly around her waist tighten just slightly, an unspoken claim, a wordless comfort.

“P’Rin…” The voice came again, quieter this time, almost tender.

“Hmm?” Rin hummed in reply, waiting.

“You finally found your happiness, didn’t you?”

Her smile deepened, voice steady yet warm, carrying the weight of truth.

“I did. I do…”

The conversation lingered for another half an hour, drifting from playful updates to heartfelt moments. Prapai’s pregnancy, her stories of adjusting to life overseas, and the warmth in her voice when she spoke of her beloved boyfriend.

Through it all, Khemjira never once loosened her hold. The young woman’s arms remained secure around Rin’s waist, her touch speaking volumes… protective, certain, as if Rin was the most precious thing in her entire world.

When the call finally wound to a close, Prapai congratulated her once more, her tone both teasing and sincere, before jokingly warning Rin not to lose touch. Rin responded with a soft hum of agreement, her eyes briefly closing in quiet contentment.

As the line disconnected, Khemjira’s lips brushed against the base of Rin’s shoulder… so soft, so unexpected that Rin frowned in mild surprise and turned her head slightly.

“Khun Rin…” Khemjira’s voice was low, almost reverent.

Rin arched an eyebrow, glancing at her. “Hmm?”

“I promise you,” Khemjira began, her gaze unwavering, “I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world…” A gentle smile lingered on her face, but there was something more in her eyes… conviction, devotion, and the kind of love that felt like home.

Rin turned fully, her hands lifting to cradle Khemjira’s face, her touch both tender and deliberate. “Khem…” she murmured, pausing long enough for the weight of her words to settle, “you already do.”

Before Khemjira could speak, Rin closed the distance, her lips finding her young wife’s in a kiss that was slow, certain, and full of the quiet promise that they already had everything they had ever needed.

Chapter Text

Khemjira frowned slightly, her brows knitting in deep concentration as she hunched a little closer over her work. The room was quiet except for the faint scratch of pencil against paper, each stroke deliberate and controlled. Her eyes narrowed, studying the lines she had already drawn as if searching for perfection in every curve and angle. Slowly, almost painstakingly, her hand moved again, sketching with a measured care that betrayed how vivid the image in her mind was. Piece by piece, the furniture she envisioned began to take form an idea translating into lines, shapes, and shadows under her steady touch.

“Nong Khem…” a small voice called, breaking her concentration. Khemjira blinked, the tip of her pencil hovering in midair before she slowly turned toward P’Balloon. He stood there with his brows raised in mild exasperation, though the concern in his eyes was far harder to miss.

“It’s already ten at night,” he said, the words carrying a quiet insistence. “You’re not going back?”

The tone was short, but the weight behind it was unmistakable… he sounded almost overly concerned for her, as though the thought of her lingering here any longer unsettled him in ways he didn’t care to admit aloud.

Khemjira smiled, a hint of mischief flickering in her eyes before she grinned innocently.

“I’ll stay for a bit,” she replied, her tone light but tinged with determination. “This one’s turning out pretty good. I don’t want to lose the idea! If I stop now, I’ll forget the little details!”

Her voice carried a spark of excitement, the kind that came from a vision she was eager to bring to life. Lately, she had been pouring herself into this particular project, refining every corner and curve with obsessive care. It wasn’t just about meeting expectations anymore. She was determined to impress her mentor… and, more than anyone else, the CEO.

P’Balloon gave a dismissive wave of his hand before reaching over to snag Khemjira’s handbag from the corner of her table. Without a word, he began gathering her things… phone, keys, a few scattered items and stuffed them inside with practised efficiency.

“Here,” he said, pushing the small bag toward her. Khemjira blinked in mild confusion but accepted it anyway.

“You—go, go, go home! No stay…” His tone was firm, almost parental, as he plucked the pencil from her fingers, set it down, and closed the drawing pad. He placed it neatly to the side, leaving no room for argument.

Khemjira opened her mouth, ready to protest, but the stern look on her colleague’s face stopped her short. Arms crossed, brows drawn together, he gave her that silent, unyielding stare that spoke louder than words. She bit back her retort with a small huff.

“Fine…” she muttered, pouting in reluctant surrender. “But I’m coming back first thing in the morning for that,” she added, jabbing a finger toward her drawing pad as if making a solemn vow.

Balloon only shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as she gathered her things. With a casual wave over her shoulder, Khemjira headed for the door, leaving him behind in the quiet office.

**********

“Nong Khem…” Aunt Malai’s familiar voice greeted her the moment she stepped into the grand hall. The warm lighting spilt over the polished floor faintly off the gold accents of the décor. The house smelled faintly of jasmine tea and old books… comforting, yet oddly still tonight.

The older woman moved forward quickly, reaching to take the jacket draped over Khemjira’s arm. But Khemjira gave a soft smile and a small wave, brushing off the offer with an ease that came from habit.

“It’s fine, Aunt Malai. I can manage,” she said gently, not wanting to trouble her further at this hour.

“Has Khun Rin gone to bed yet?” Khemjira asked, glancing briefly at her wristwatch. It was nearly eleven around the time her wife usually retired for the night, unless something kept her awake. The voice carrying an undertone of curiosity and something faintly protective.

Aunt Malai frowned slightly, pausing to think. “Khun Rin hasn’t left her study since… hmm… yes, since after her dinner with her father,” she said at last, as though confirming it to herself.

Khemjira’s head tilted, a small pout tugging at her lips. “Is she busy? Did she mention anything?” she pressed, her tone light but the worry behind it quietly evident.

The housemaid shook her head.

Khemjira hummed in thought before straightening. “It’s alright. I’ll go to her,” she murmured, her decision made. Her steps turned toward the staircase almost instinctively.

Just as she reached the first step, Aunt Malai’s voice followed her. “Nong Khem, should I prepare dinner for you?”

Khemjira glanced back, offering a quick smile. “I’m not hungry, thank you,” she replied, her tone casual, but her mind was already upstairs with Rin.

**********

The moment Khemjira stepped quietly into the study, the faint scent of sandalwood greeted her, mingling with the subtle coolness of the air-conditioned room. A soft pool of golden light from the desk lamp spilt across the carpet, casting long, gentle shadows over the shelves lined with books and framed photographs. Her steps were slow, deliberate, almost reverent, as though afraid even the faintest sound might disturb the stillness that wrapped the space.

Her eyes quickly found the figure she had been looking for. Praenarin was lying on the sofa, her body curled slightly toward the backrest, head tilted at a relaxed angle. One slender arm was draped loosely across her forehead, the other resting over her chest, cradling an open book whose pages rose and fell with each measured breath. The peaceful rhythm of her wife’s breathing drew Khemjira closer without her even realising it, until she was standing just a few steps away, her heart softening at the sight.

A quiet smile curved her lips. She had seen Praenarin in so many states, confident and commanding in the boardroom, playful when teasing her, serene but there was something about this unguarded stillness that left her completely undone. Beautiful as ever, Khemjira thought, recalling the words she had once whispered during a stolen moment together: aged like fine wine. But beauty alone wasn’t what bound her so tightly to this woman. It was everything, her quiet strength, the warmth she tried to hide behind formality, the rare laughter that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

The love Khemjira felt for her wife was something she could never put into neat, tidy words. It was vast, consuming… something she neither wanted to measure nor understand. Why would she? In her heart, she believed every risk, every compromise, every moment of vulnerability she had given to this woman had been worth it.

Carefully, she moved to the sofa and lowered herself into the narrow space beside it. The cushions dipped slightly under her weight, and she leaned forward, her movements slow and unhurried. A few stray strands of hair had fallen across Praenarin’s face, framing her features in a way that made her look even softer in sleep. Khemjira reached out, her fingertips brushing them aside with the same care one would give to the most delicate of treasures. She let her hand linger for just a moment near her wife’s temple, as though memorising the warmth radiating from her skin.

Her gaze softened further. Sometimes, in moments like this, Khemjira found herself wondering what she could have possibly done in a past life to deserve someone like Praenarin. The question never truly left her, but perhaps she didn’t want the answer. Some blessings, she thought, weren’t meant to be explained, only cherished.

As Khemjira lingered in her quiet thoughts, her gaze still fixed on the woman she adored, the figure on the sofa stirred. Long lashes fluttered faintly before dark eyes slowly blinked open, hazy with the remnants of sleep.

“Khem…” The call was soft, barely above a whisper, yet it struck Khemjira’s heart with an instant, fluttering warmth.

Praenarin, Rin… sat up quickly recognising her, brushing the book aside. Her movements were still heavy with drowsiness, but her expression carried that unmistakable mixture of surprise and affection.

Khemjira smiled, leaning in without a second thought to press a tender kiss against her wife’s forehead. The touch was light, fleeting, yet it drew a faint flush to Rin’s cheeks. Even after all this time, she still reacted shyly to such a simple gesture of love. That shyness, that softness, never failed to make Khemjira grin like a fool.

“Khun Rin…” she murmured warmly, one hand lifting to cradle Rin’s cheek. Her thumb brushed across soft skin in slow, affectionate circles, and Rin instinctively leaned into the touch… a small, unconscious action that sent a wave of heat through Khemjira’s chest. “Why are you sleeping here?” she asked, her lips quirking into a teasing smile. “You know it’s bad for your back…”

Rin’s eyes narrowed in mock suspicion, the corners crinkling as her tone turned playfully defensive. “Yeah, you! Are you making fun of my age again? My back is perfectly fine no matter where I sleep!” she huffed, crossing her arms with exaggerated indignation.

The sight was too much for Khemjira to resist… her soft laughter spilt out before she could stop it. In the earlier months of their marriage, Rin had been quicker to glare at her, sometimes tossing sharp little remarks or fixing her with those cold stares that seemed meant to intimidate. But somewhere along the way, those death glares had turned into harmless pouts, more like the sulky expression of a small black cat trying… yet failing to look fierce.

Now, watching Rin’s lips push forward in that adorable pout, Khemjira felt the same familiar urge swell inside her: to pinch her cheeks, to kiss those lips until the pout melted into a smile. Instead, she only leaned closer, her grin widening, eyes sparkling with the unspoken thought that her wife is just too cute sometimes!

Giving in to the temptation, Khemjira leaned forward without hesitation, aiming straight for those irresistibly pouty lips. But, as always, Rin tilted her head away at the last second, dodging her like a seasoned escape artist.

Khemjira only grinned at the failed attempt. Those lips were still there, pushed forward in that adorable sulk, and the sight made her heart skip. Without giving Rin a chance to retreat further, she closed the distance… not for another kiss, but to wrap her arms tightly around her wife.

Her head found its familiar place in the warm curve of Rin’s neck, where the faint, comforting scent she loved most lingered, soft, clean, and distinctly her. She inhaled deeply, as if she could keep that scent tucked somewhere safe in her memory forever.

Khemjira tightened her embrace, her voice slipping into a small, playful whine muffled against Rin’s skin, “My dearest wife… I’m sorry…” The words were warm and coaxing, each one accompanied by a slow, soothing stroke down Rin’s back.

“My wife is the prettiest,” she murmured with a smile only Rin could feel. “No matter what age you are…. you’re the only one for me.” She pulled back just enough to catch Rin’s eyes, her own gleaming with sincerity and a hint of mischief.

“I’m stuck with you, you know,” Khemjira teased softly, brushing her nose lightly against Rin’s cheek. Then her smile deepened into something both tender and certain. 

“No one else but you…”

And in that quiet moment, with Rin still caught in her arms, it didn’t matter whether her wife pouted, teased, or even tried to push her away… Khemjira knew she would never let go.

Chapter Text

Rin closed her eyes as she lifted the glass, letting the drink touch her lips. The taste was familiar, one she had known countless times before… yet tonight it carried no comfort, only a hollow bitterness that seemed to settle heavy in her chest. A quiet sigh escaped her, the kind that sounded more weary than relieved, before she leaned back into her seat. The hum of conversation around her blurred into a distant echo, her thoughts drifting far away from the table.

Her friends carried on, laughter and stories filling the space, but Rin remained untouched by their joy, her gaze soft and unfocused, searching for something beyond the room. Grace noticed first, raising a brow, then nudging Ying with a silent question. A ripple of awareness passed between them until, finally, the weight of her silence became too heavy to ignore.

Just as Rin raised the glass again, a hand darted forward and snatched it from her grasp. She blinked, startled, her frown sharpening as she turned to see Grace clutching the glass.

“Yah, Rin,” Grace muttered, her voice carrying both concern and reproach, “what’s going on with you? You’re drinking too much again. It’s just like that time when…” She faltered, the memory too heavy to finish… the days Rin drowned herself in liquor after ‘losing’ her young wife.

The pause was enough for Ying to speak up, her tone more direct, “Did you fight with Nong Khem? Or…” she narrowed her eyes slightly, almost rolling them, “is this about Prapai again?”

The others exchanged knowing glances, nodding in quiet agreement. Rin clicked her tongue, annoyance flickering across her face, more at their meddling than their words. Still, the way her fingers twitched, reaching for the stolen glass, betrayed the storm she was trying so hard to hide.

Ying tilted her head, her tone soft but coaxing as she hummed, “Come on, tell us what’s going on?” She reached for Rin’s arm and slung it lightly, as if persuading a stubborn child to confess what had been weighing on her.

Rin stiffened at the touch, her lips pressing into a thin line. The warmth of her friend’s gesture only deepened the ache in her chest, pulling at something she didn’t want unraveled. Her eyes flickered toward Ying, then away just as quickly, retreating to the comfort of the dim corner of the room.

“There’s nothing to tell,” she muttered, her voice flat, almost too calm… like a river just before it spills over its banks.

Ying pouted, giving her arm a small shake. “Don’t lie to us, Rin. We can see it. You’ve been zoning out all night, sighing like the world’s about to end.”

The table quieted at that, laughter fading into uneasy silence as the others watched, waiting for Rin to finally speak. But Rin only pulled her arm gently from Ying’s hold, resting it back on her lap. She gave a faint, weary smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Do you think love can fade fast?”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the room sharper than any drunken laughter could. The question hung in the air, heavy and unsettling, as though no one dared to answer too quickly.

Grace shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her teasing expression from earlier long gone. Ying’s hand, which had been playfully slung on Rin’s arm just moments ago, froze mid-air before slipping back into her lap. The others exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether Rin was asking them… or asking herself.

“Rin…” Ying finally said softly, her tone careful now, almost afraid of breaking something fragile. “Why would you ask that?”

Rin tilted her head back, eyes tracing the ceiling as if searching for words there. “Because sometimes… it feels like the harder you hold onto someone, the quicker they slip away.” She let out a faint laugh, humorless and bitter, before turning back to the glass she’d been denied.

Her friends fell silent again, the weight of her words sinking in like stones dropped into still water, leaving ripples none of them knew how to calm.

“Is this about Nong Khem? What do you mean by that?” another one of her friends, Julie, asked carefully. “We’re all pretty sure that little puppy of yours is head over heels for you…” She paused, glancing around the table as if to confirm she wasn’t the only one who thought so. “That young kid never even gives herself a break when it comes to you.”

Rin let out a small laugh at the choice of words, but it was thin, fragile… more like a sigh caught in her throat than amusement. She set her gaze on the empty space before her, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her glass before setting it down with a soft thud.

“That’s what I thought too,” she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. “But love isn’t just about how much someone gives… It's about how long they can keep giving without breaking. Sometimes I wonder if… if what Khem gives me now, one day, she’ll realise it’s too heavy to carry.”

Her friends still. The words lingered like smoke in the air, heavy and suffocating. Grace leaned in, trying to catch Rin’s eye, but Rin only stared at the table, her jaw tight.

Julie frowned, her voice soft, “Rin… are you saying she’ll stop loving you?”

Rin’s lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. “I’m saying she might wake up one day and see what everyone else sees. That she’s young, bright, with the whole world waiting at her feet… and me? I’m just the older woman she once adored. A phase. Something she’ll outgrow.”

Her words cut deeper than the silence that followed. The friends exchanged nervous glances, none daring to immediately respond.

Ying reached out, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and care, “Don’t be ridiculous, Rin. Nong Khem looks at you like…like you hung the moon for her. You’re the only one she ever talks about!”

But Rin only shook her head, a rueful chuckle slipping out. “That’s what scares me the most… devotion burns brightest before it burns out.”

Ying frowned, her voice softer now, almost cautious. “Did Nong Khem do something that made you feel this way?” she asked, brows furrowed. After all, she had seen them together countless times… the way Khem’s eyes followed Rin like the world began and ended with her, the way Rin softened in her presence. Their love was so palpable it made Ying envy it more often than she cared to admit.

Rin let out a small, humorless laugh, her fingers tracing the rim of her empty glass. “No… she didn’t do anything wrong,” she said at last. Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed the storm beneath. “That’s the problem, Ying. She’s… perfect. Too perfect. She gives and gives and looks at me like I’m her whole world. But sometimes I catch myself wondering… what if one day she realizes I can’t give her the same in return? What if she starts noticing the cracks in me?”

Her friends exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to answer.

Grace finally broke the silence, her tone half teasing, half-worried. “Rin, that girl worships the ground you walk on. I don’t think there’s a crack in the universe that would make her see you any less.”

But Rin only offered a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She tilted her head back slightly, staring up at the dim lights above as though searching for something they couldn’t see. “That’s what I’m afraid of… when love feels too good, it almost feels like it’s borrowed. Like any day now, someone’s going to come and take it back.” She paused, a brittle silence hanging in the air before her next words slipped out, fragile and breaking. “Just… like Prapai…”

The name fell heavily across the table, and the air shifted instantly. Everyone stilled, memories of the dark days Rin had clawed her way through threatening to surface again.

“Rin…” Grace’s voice softened, almost pleading, as she reached across the table to touch her friend’s hand. She sighed, shaking her head gently. “Nong Khem is not Prapai…”

Another soft, almost bitter laugh escaped Rin’s lips. “You’re right…” she murmured, her voice thin as if admitting defeat. “Khem is not Pai…” The words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken weight.

She sighed then, the sound weary and quiet, before reaching for her belongings with slow, deliberate movements. She stumbled to her feet, swaying just enough to betray the drinks she had taken.

“I’m going home…” she announced her in tone final, cutting the heaviness short. It wasn’t a dismissal born of anger, but one of exhaustion… an end to a conversation she no longer had the strength to continue.

The table fell silent as her friends exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to press her further. Then Fa, who had been watching quietly all along, reached out and caught Rin’s hand before she could walk away. Her voice was gentle but firm.

“Rin, you’re drunk. I’ll drive you home…”

Rin gave her a small smile, the kind that looked more like a mask than reassurance. Slowly, she tried to ease her hand free from Fa’s grasp.
“I’m perfectly fine…” she murmured, her words soft but unconvincing. “You guys have fun. I’ll go first.”

She paused, her gaze lowering as if the weight of her presence had suddenly become too much. “I’m sorry… for spoiling the mood.”

The apology hung heavy in the air, her fragile smile fading as she turned away. None of them found the courage to stop her again.

*********

Rin arrived home around ten that night, the soft echo of her footsteps filling the vast, dimly lit mansion hall. The moment the heavy doors closed behind her, the housemaids, who had been tidying the last of the evening chores, quickly scattered toward her, their concern evident in the hurried way they reached out to assist.

Aunt Malai, the head maid and the one who had watched over her since childhood, stepped forward first. The older woman’s eyes softened at the sight of the beloved daughter of the house, her posture dipping into instinctive respect.

“Khun Rin, you’re home,” Aunt Malai said quietly, almost relieved, though her voice carried the gentle reproach of worry. “It’s late… shall I prepare something warm for you?”

Rin gave a small smile, faint and weary, waving off the fuss with a tired hand.

“No, Auntie. I’m fine…” her voice trailed, the same words she had said to her friends, though here they felt heavier, like they cost her more to speak.

Aunt Malai studied her closely, noticing the faint redness in her eyes and the lingering scent of alcohol. But years of loyalty kept her from pressing further. Instead, she bowed her head respectfully.

“Very well, Khun Rin. If you need anything… please call me.”

Rin nodded, then hesitated before speaking. “Has Nong Khem come back?”

Her heart pounded violently in her chest as she waited for the answer. It was such a simple question, yet in that moment it felt unbearably heavy.

“Nong Khem? She hasn’t yet. She said she’d be late… something about being stuck with work. She mentioned she had already informed Khun Rin too…” Aunt Malai frowned softly, muttering as she shook her head, “That kid… did she forget to tell you?”

Rin’s brows furrowed. She reached into her bag, pulling out her phone to check her messages. A quiet, bitter scoff slipped past her lips when she saw the unread text Aunt Malai had referred to. Her so-called ‘husband’ hadn’t even bothered to call… just a careless message.

“I got it,” she said flatly, sliding the phone back into her bag. Without another word, she turned toward the stairs. “I’m going to bed.”

The maids bowed their heads silently as the daughter of the house ascended the steps, her figure slowly disappearing into the shadows of the second floor.

*********

After a long, warm bath, Rin padded softly into her bedroom, her damp hair brushing against her shoulders. She paused at the edge of the bed, her gaze falling on the empty space where Khem always slept. The sight hit her harder than she expected, a quiet ache spreading through her chest.

With a sigh, she sat on the edge of the mattress and reached for her phone, unlocking it with a flicker of hope she refused to admit aloud. Her thumb hovered over the screen, searching for any new message, any sign of Khem. But the screen remained cold and blank… no calls, no texts, nothing.

The silence in the room seemed to deepen, pressing down on her as she let the phone slip from her hand onto the sheets.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she prepared for sleep. Sliding beneath the sheets, Rin reached out for the purple plushie, Mookhem, the gift Khem had given her not too long ago. Hugging it close, she scowled at its stitched smile as if it were mocking her.

“Why aren’t you home?” she muttered, her teeth gritting as she pulled at the plushie’s cheek. Her words came out half like a complaint, half like a pout, as if unleashing her frustrations on the soft toy would somehow reach the real Khem.

“What’s so busy, huh? You’re working under me, yet you look like you’re working harder than me!” she gave its cheek another pinch, her lips forming an irritated little pout. The expression wasn’t anger, not really… it was closer to something endearingly childish, an almost cute stubbornness laced with her exhaustion.

“You—come back already!” she huffed, puffing her cheeks as she hugged the plush tighter. “Aren’t you my husband? You’re supposed to take care of me more, not leave me here alone!” Her voice wavered between a mock scold and something much softer, a vulnerability hiding beneath the surface.

Still pouting, she gave the plush another series of pinches, muttering, “You come back… you hear me? You come back…”

Finally, her movements slowed, her grip around the plush tightening as though she could will it into being the real thing.

Her pinches grew weaker, the plush squished between her hands as she let out a little groan. “You come back…” she mumbled again, but the fire in her tone had already dimmed. Her eyelids felt heavy, drooping as she buried her face into the plushie’s soft fur.

“Bad husband…” she whispered with a tiny pout, her words muffled against the toy. “Making me wait like this…”

The annoyance melted into a quiet sigh, her lips curling faintly as if she couldn’t stay mad. With her arms wrapped tightly around Mookhem, she nuzzled into it, her breathing slowing.

“Mmm… when you come home… you better…” her voice trailed off, soft and slurred, until only the sound of her steady breaths remained.

And just like that, her rant gave way to drowsiness, slipping her into a tender sleep with the plush hugged close, as though it were Khem herself.

**********

The rustle of sheets and the dip of the mattress stirred Rin from her slumber. Her lashes fluttered open sluggishly, still heavy with sleep, when warmth pressed against her back. An arm slipped firmly around her waist, tugging her closer, and the faint scent of fresh cream shower gel clung to the air, sweet and familiar.

Her breath caught. Khemjira.

The woman she called her husband buried her face into the curve of Rin’s neck, nuzzling lazily as though she belonged there, as though the world outside no longer existed. Her breath fanned warmly against Rin’s skin, sending a shiver down her spine. It was unbearably intimate… too tender, too much… tickling in a way that made her squirm.

Annoyed, or at least trying to be, Rin let out a soft groan. “Khem, what are you doing?”

She meant for her voice to cut sharper, to scold her the way she always rehearsed in her head when waiting alone for Khem to return. But the weight of drowsiness clung stubbornly to her, blurring the edge she wanted. The words tumbled out weakly, her tone dragging low and husky, more a soft whine than a reprimand.

Her own ears burned at how pitiful it sounded… childish, even… nothing like the icy detachment she’d practiced in the mirror.

Behind her, Khemjira chuckled quietly, the sound deep and warm against her skin, as though she’d heard Rin’s heart more than her words. Her arm tightened, pulling Rin snug against her chest. “Mm… just holding my wife,” she murmured, voice laced with drowsy affection, as if that simple answer excused everything.

Silence.

“Khun Rin…” Khemjira whispered, her voice low and drenched with fondness. Her arms tightened around Rin’s waist as though afraid to let her go, her embrace warm and unyielding. She lowered her lips and pressed them gently against Rin’s shoulder. Then again, and again… each kiss unhurried, delicate, filled with an affection that seeped past Rin’s irritation.

Every brush of Khemjira's lips against her skin sent shivers racing through Rin, chasing away the last remnants of sleep. The annoyance she wanted to cling to began to crumble, her heart betraying her resolve. It was unfair, Rin thought dimly, how Khemjira always disarmed her so easily, turning her scolding into nothing more than soft sighs caught between her lips.

“Khun Rin…” the soft voice uttered again, making Rin shiver all over. The delicate trail of kisses along her shoulder continued, one after another, unhurried, almost painfully soft. Then the kisses shifted, pausing only for a breath before finding their way to her neck. Kiss by kiss, closer and deeper, until Rin felt Khem inhale slowly against her skin… as if trying to memorise her scent, to claim it, to etch it into her forever.

But then Rin froze. Her breath hitched, and the warmth she felt faltered. Among the tenderness, something else slipped through… sharp, undeniable. The scent of alcohol lingered on Khemjira’s breath, faint yet heavy enough to shatter the spell.

“Khem… did you drink?” Rin asked, her voice slipping into a soft, almost whining tone as she tilted her head away. But her small act only gave Khem more access, and she took it eagerly. Her lips trailed further along Rin’s neck, unrelenting, while the arm secured firmly around her waist shifted lower. With a slow, deliberate movement, Khem’s hand slipped beneath the fabric of Rin’s clothes, caressing the warmth of her bare skin.

“A little…” Khemjira confessed shortly, and Rin could feel the curve of her grin pressing against her neck, warm through the skin.

Rin sighed softly. The young woman had only recently been introduced to indulging in alcohol… it made sense that she was so easily tipsy, so easily drunk. Unlike Rin herself, who could recover quickly even after drinking, Khem still lingered in that hazy, reckless warmth.

“Enough, l want to sleep…” Rin protested softly, though the way her voice wavered betrayed more playfulness than real scolding. She squirmed under Khem’s kisses, tilting her head away while her hand tried… half-heartedly to tug Khem’s roaming hand out from beneath her clothes. “You’re impossible…” she muttered, cheeks puffed slightly, as if her complaint was more of a pout than a refusal.

“My wife…” Khem’s voice spilled in a sweet, almost pleading tone. Her lips trailed more kisses along Rin’s bare shoulder, each one lingering, delicate, carrying both affection and hunger. Meanwhile, her hand, hidden beneath the fabric, moved painfully slow, caressing upward in a way that made Rin’s breath catch in her throat.

“I’m really hungry…” she murmured eagerly, her words brushing warm against Rin’s skin before she nipped gently at her wife’s neck, a soft bite that made Rin shiver.

“Khem…” Rin wished it would sound like a reprimand but it ended up like a whine once again, pitiful.

Noticing that Rin hadn’t given much resistance, the hand beneath her clothes slipped higher, brushing against her chest with careful tenderness. Each caress was unhurried, as though Khem feared breaking something fragile. Slowly, she guided Rin’s body to turn toward her, their faces finally aligned. The trail of kisses along Rin’s neck came to a halt, replaced instead with the soft press of lips… Khem’s gentle peck upon her wife’s mouth.

Rin’s eyes stared deeply into Khem’s, a thousand unspoken words passing in the silence between them. The younger woman leaned over her with a tenderness that felt both fragile and consuming, her presence pressing down like a soft weight Rin could never push away. Slowly, Rin lifted her hand, her slender fingers brushing against Khem’s cheek before cupping it fully, as if anchoring herself in that familiar warmth.

Khem leaned into the touch instinctively, her eyes half-lidded, lips curving into that same sweet smile Rin had come to know so well, the smile that always appeared when Khem’s heart brimmed with the need to please her. It wasn’t just affection; it was devotion, raw and unguarded, painted across her face.

For a fleeting moment, Rin’s chest tightened. That smile… it made it so hard to stay annoyed, so hard to keep her guard. 

Khemjira didn’t just want her… she wanted to give, to worship, to pour every ounce of herself into Rin, and that thought alone made Rin’s breath falter.

After a moment, Khemjira lowered herself, capturing Rin’s lips in a kiss that felt hungry… like she wanted to devour her whole. The press of her mouth was deep, passionate, leaving no room for Rin to think, only to feel. Her hand, hidden beneath the fabric, moved with deliberate care, caressing and massaging the soft skin she found there.

Rin’s face flushed a deep red, her breath quickening as the sudden wave of heat coursed through her. The intensity was overwhelming, too fast, too much, yet part of her melted into it despite herself.

“Hmm… Khem…” Rin’s soft whine slipped out, half protest, half surrender, betraying the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

Khem’s kisses continued in a fervent rhythm, alternating between Rin’s lips and the delicate curve of her neck. Each press, each brush, carried a hungry intensity that left Rin gasping for breath, her chest rising and falling faster with every stolen touch.

The soft whines that had slipped from her earlier melted into quiet, helpless moans, the sound trembling out of her as if pulled straight from her heart. The moment Khemjira heard them, her eagerness only deepened. She kissed harder, biting gently at Rin’s neck, savouring every shiver that followed. Her hand moved with deliberate care, fingertips teasing before caressing the sensitive peak of Rin’s chest, her touch a mixture of love and desire.

The reaction was immediate… Rin’s body arched against her, and from her lips spilt a moan so sweet, so unguarded, that Khemjira felt a surge of satisfaction bloom in her chest. The sound was a reward, a confirmation that every touch, every kiss was driving Rin exactly where she wanted.

Rin’s neck tilted instinctively, granting Khemjira more access as her fingers clutched at her arms, seeking some anchor amidst the waves of sensation. Her flushed face, tinted a deep red from both shyness and pleasure, only made her more breathtaking. Khemjira’s heart swelled with pride and desire alike… this sight, this vulnerable side of Rin, was hers alone to witness. No one else could draw out this expression, no one else could make her wife unravel so beautifully.

“Khem…” she whined again, her voice trembling with need.
The hand that had been caressing beneath the fabric halted for a moment, before slowly drifting lower, grazing across the soft curve of Rin’s abdomen. Her breath caught, and she froze, eyes locking with Khem’s in a mixture of anticipation and shyness. The kisses trailed downward with torturous slowness, finding their way to her bare chest. Rin bit her lip hard, her face flushed, as the rising intensity consumed her. The want that welled up inside her was undeniable… she longed to be touched, to be completely claimed by her husband’s love.

The hand that had been trailing lower finally reached the place that ached for her touch. Khemjira’s fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric, brushing against heated skin, and her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected Rin to be this responsive… her body was trembling ever so slightly, the need there raw and undeniable.

Rin’s back arched at the sudden contact, her lips parting as a shaky breath escaped, almost a plea hidden in the sound. Her hands, which had been clutching at Khemjira's arms, tightened their grip as if to anchor herself. The sight made her chest tighten with both pride and hunger… because this side of Rin, flushed and vulnerable, belonged to no one else but her.

The realization sent a rush of heat through her veins. She lowered her head once more, scattering tender kisses across Rin’s chest, while her hand beneath the fabric moved with slow, deliberate care… teasing, exploring, coaxing even more reactions out of her wife.

Khemjira’s touch grew more purposeful, her movements unhurried yet sure, and every shift of her fingers pulled a sound from Rin’s lips that she could no longer hold back. The soft moans slipped out, trembling with both need and surrender, filling the quiet room.

Rin’s face burned with heat, her body arching into Khem’s touch despite her earlier attempts to scold or resist. Every breathless sound seemed to melt Khem’s restraint, urging her to please Rin even more. The sight, the sound… the way Rin looked at her with flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes… It was intoxicating.

“Khem…” Rin whispered again, her voice breaking between moans, and the way she said her name made Khemjira’s heart ache with adoration. She leaned down to capture Rin’s lips, swallowing her sounds as her hand continued its tender rhythm, determined to give her wife everything she wanted without needing to ask.

Her fingers slipped lower, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the anticipation. Rin’s thighs tensed at the touch, her breath catching as a soft, broken moan slipped past her lips. The sound made Khemjira’s smile widen against her skin.

“You’re so sensitive tonight…” she whispered, her lips brushing over Rin’s flushed cheek before trailing back down to her neck. Each kiss was deeper, hungrier, yet still gentle enough to make Rin shiver.

The movements of Khem’s hand grew more assured, caressing, circling, teasing just enough to drive Rin restless. She arched into the touch without meaning to, her fingers clinging to Khem’s arms, nails digging slightly as her body betrayed her.

“Khem… please…” she breathed out, half a whine, half a plea, her voice trembling with desperation.

Hearing it only fueled Khem’s eagerness. She pressed her lips to Rin’s ear, whispering with a grin, “That’s what I wanted to hear, Khun Rin…” Her fingers finally gave in to what Rin’s body was begging for, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm that quickly unraveled her wife.

Rin’s moans spilled freely now, soft and sweet, filling the quiet room like music only Khemjira was meant to hear. Her back arched, head tilted back, completely vulnerable under the younger woman’s touch. Khem took in every expression, every sound, engraving them in her memory with pride because only she could bring Rin to this state.

When Rin’s lips parted again, releasing another helpless cry, Khem caught them in a kiss, swallowing her moans as her hand continued its devoted work beneath the fabric.

Rin’s body trembled beneath Khem’s touch, her moans growing louder, more desperate, until they broke into a sharp cry muffled against Khem’s lips. The waves of release crashed through her, leaving her breathless, her body tightening and then slowly melting in Khem’s arms.

Khem slowed her movements, easing Rin through the shivers that lingered until the last of her strength gave out. She pulled her hand away gently, wrapping both arms securely around Rin as if shielding her from the world.

Rin’s flushed face was buried against Khem’s shoulder, her breath shallow and uneven, her body still trembling faintly from the aftershocks. Khemjira pressed a long, tender kiss to her temple, whispering, “My beautiful wife…”

The room was quiet again, save for the soft rhythm of their breathing. Rin’s hand weakly clutched Khem’s shirt, as though anchoring herself. Khem smiled, brushing back a strand of hair from her wife’s face and holding her even closer.

“Sleep now,” Khemjira murmured, her voice low and soothing. “I’ll be right here.”

And with her warmth wrapped tightly around her, Rin finally closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the safety of her ‘husband’ embrace.

Chapter Text

Rin’s eyes fluttered open as a seep of light broke through the curtain, spilling across her face. A soft groan escaped her lips, her body aching faintly with the reminder of the night before. Half-asleep, her hand drifted instinctively to the other side of the bed, searching for warmth, for the steady presence of Khemjira. Instead, her fingers met nothing but cool sheets. The emptiness made her pause, a small frown tugging at her lips. She tilted her head, eyes rolling forward in mild irritation, though beneath it lingered something heavier… an ache that had nothing to do with her body. Slowly, she pushed herself upright, her gaze catching the clock on the lamp table.

Around seven in the morning.

She sighed tiredly and rose, pulling herself together to wash up before joining her father, who always had breakfast around this time. After cleaning herself, Rin made her way downstairs, her footsteps slow, almost reluctant. But the sight that greeted her halted her mid-step: Khemjira… her so-called ‘husband’ was already at the dining table, a small piece of bread caught between her lips, clearly in a hurry to leave.

“Ah, Rin, you’re awake…” Her father’s warm voice broke through the air, his smile soft as he acknowledged her arrival. The 'husband' turned as well, bright and effortless, her presence almost too light against Rin’s lingering heaviness.
.
“Khun Rin…” she greeted sweetly, as though the night before had left no weight upon her at all.

“You’re leaving for work already?” Rin asked, her voice steadier than she felt. She watched the light in Khemjira’s eyes, the way her whole body leaned toward the door rather than toward her. “We can leave together…” she added, softer this time, a quiet suggestion wrapped in hope.

But Khemjira only shook her head with a teasing pout, brushing her hand along Rin’s arm in that effortless way she always did when she wanted to be indulged. “I can’t, Khun Rin. I promised Nong May we’d polish our design before the presentation,” she explained, her lips curling into an exaggeratedly cute frown that would have made anyone else fall in love.

Instead, Rin felt something cold pinch at her chest. The name hung in the air like a thread she hadn’t seen before, tangling around her thoughts.

“May?” she echoed, her tone firmer than intended, brows knitting as her arms wrapped around her waist. “Who?”

Khemjira tilted her head, blinking as if she didn’t quite understand why the question carried weight. “The new intern,” she replied with an easy shrug. “The team leader tossed her to me. She mostly just trails after me for work.” She paused, her lips curving into a thoughtful smile, her tone light and almost wondering. “She’s nice though…”

Her voice was light, airy, as though she were recounting something trivial, but each word only deepened the restless ache beneath Rin’s ribs.

Nice. Young. Follow me around.

Khemjira, oblivious… or perhaps pretending to be, slipped an arm around Rin’s waist, tugging her closer. Her eyes sparkled with that same irrepressible energy, the same smile that could disarm anyone. “Next time, I’ll introduce Khun Rin to her!” she added brightly, as though it were the most natural solution.

Rin stared at her wife’s grin, searching for a crack, a trace of the intimacy that had burned so fiercely between them just hours ago. But Khemjira’s expression was as effortless as always, lighthearted.

She forced a smile, small and thin, to mask the sting. “I see…” she murmured, though her arms stayed folded tightly across her waist.

“Ah—!” Khemjira’s eyes flicked to her watch, widening. “I’ll be late.” She pouted briefly before wrapping her arms around Rin in a quick, swaying hug. “I’ll see you at the office, my dear wife…” she teased, her tone playful. Then, before Rin could scold her for being shameless in front of her father, Khemjira tiptoed up and planted a loud kiss on her cheek.

Rin froze, her fingers brushing against the spot where Khemjira’s kiss still lingered. The warmth was fleeting, almost mocking, yet it clung stubbornly to her skin. She didn’t know whether to swat it away or clutch it closer.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught her father watching, his head shaking with that familiar mix of amusement and resignation, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The sight made heat rush to her cheeks all over again, not from affection this time, but from the embarrassment of being so easily seen through.

“Tch… so childish,” Rin muttered under her breath, her annoyance curling tight in her tone. Yet even as she grumbled, she felt the knot in her chest loosen ever so slightly. That one small, silly act…Khemjira’s ridiculous boldness in front of her father had chipped away at the heaviness pressing against her heart.

**************

Around noon, a soft knock came at Rin’s office door. She straightened a little in her chair, her pen hovering above the page, before permitting entry.

The door swung open, and there was Khemjira… smiling as though the world were hers alone, clutching a paper bag of food in one hand and a drink in the other.

“My dear wife~” she sang playfully, her tone light as silk. Without hesitation, she crossed the room, set the food down on Rin’s desk, and leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of Rin’s head before wrapping her arms around her shoulders.

Rin let herself be drawn in without resistance, her body yielding to the embrace even as her mind stiffened. She said nothing, only breathed in the faint scent of outside clinging to her wife’s clothes, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You’re not busy today?” Rin asked finally. The words slipped out, quieter than she intended, but the faint edge in her tone betrayed her. She hadn’t meant for it to sound bitter… and yet it did.

Khemjira pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, her grin still in place, unbothered. “I snuck away just for you,” she teased, her voice honey-sweet.

But Rin couldn’t ignore the weight behind her own question. Khemjira had chosen work over her too often lately, and though Rin kept her composure, the ache had begun to show itself in little cracks, in words that slipped out without permission.

“Hmm…” Rin hummed in a tone that feigned agreement, steadying herself as she allowed Khemjira’s embrace, her resolve folding against the warmth she could never quite reject.

“Have you eaten, Khun Rin?” Khemjira asked lightly, settling herself on the arm of Rin’s chair. Her fingers slipped into Rin’s hair, rubbing gently before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

Rin could feel the curve of her wife’s grin etching itself against her skin, the brightness of it sinking deeper than she wanted to admit. That tiny, thoughtless gesture unraveled the knots that had been stirring in her chest, softening edges she’d tried to keep sharp. She wondered… was she truly that easy to coax, or had she simply fallen too deeply, too helplessly, for Khemjira?

Either way, she did not mind. She had promised herself she would love this woman wholeheartedly, without restraint. To be honest. Yet honesty… did that also mean giving voice to the shadows she carried, the doubts pressing quietly at the corners of her heart? She wasn’t sure.

With Prapai, things had always been simple. Easy.
Too easy, perhaps… that very simplicity had been what drove her away.

The thought stung. Rin frowned faintly, pushing it aside, her voice soft when she finally answered, “Not quite…”

Khemjira’s lips curved into a worried pout as she turned fully toward Rin, brows knitting. “Why don’t you eat?” she asked, a crease forming on her forehead. Then, softening her tone, she coaxed with a playful lilt, “Come on, let me feed my dear wife…”

Without waiting for protest, she slipped her hand into Rin’s, tugging her gently up from the chair. The warmth of her grip was insistent, leaving Rin little choice but to follow as Khemjira scooped up the bag of food and drink in her other hand.

Rin let herself be led across the room, toward the familiar sofa and coffee table where she often rested during long hours at work. The simple domesticity of it… the way Khemjira guided her without hesitation, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Khemjira set the bag down on the coffee table and quickly unpacked it, her movements brisk but careful, like a child eager to please. She unwrapped the meal, then turned to Rin with that dazzling grin that always seemed to chip away at her walls.

“Sit,” she coaxed gently, patting the cushion beside her. When Rin lowered herself onto the sofa, Khemjira perched close, almost crowding her, chopsticks already in hand. “Say ahh…” she teased, holding up the first bite with exaggerated sweetness.

Rin gave her a flat look, but her lips curved despite herself. With a soft sigh, she leaned forward and let Khemjira feed her.

The taste of food was almost secondary to the warmth of her wife’s gaze, the childish delight shining in her eyes as though Rin had just done her the greatest favor in the world. Bite after bite, Khemjira hummed cheerfully, brushing stray crumbs from Rin’s lips with her thumb, sneaking kisses on her lips between mouthfuls.

Rin chewed slowly, her heart caught in that tug-of-war again… half-annoyed at how easily Khemjira disarmed her, half-helplessly sinking into the comfort of it. In the end, all she could do was let herself be held, her quiet sigh melting into Khemjira’s laughter.

*************

“Nong Khem…” P’Jay’s voice broke the silence as she glanced at her wristwatch, lips pressing together in mild surprise. The office was nearly empty, the usual hum of chatter long gone. “You’re still here? Aren’t you heading home? I just saw our CEO leave about half an hour ago…”

“It’s fine…” Khemjira replied without looking up, her hand waving dismissively as her eyes narrowed at the design glowing on her monitor. She leaned forward, chewing lightly on the end of her pen as though the answer might come if she only stared hard enough. “I told her I’d be back later…”

Jay blinked, eyebrows raising. “Again?” Her tone carried a mix of disbelief and worry, though she tried to keep it light.

That finally made Khemjira pause. She tilted her head, clearly puzzled by the reaction, and turned to face her colleague. “What’s wrong?”

Jay hesitated, scratching the side of her head though it was more out of habit than necessity. “Because… it’s not like you, Nong Khem.” Her voice carried a mix of teasing and genuine concern. She clasped her arms, studying her junior with a small smile tugging at her lips. “If memory serves, you’re usually the first one to clock out. Always hurrying so you can catch the CEO before she leaves. Walking out together like it’s your little routine.”

Her smile softened into something more pointed, a teasing glint in her eyes. “And now here you are, glued to your screen and working late like the rest of us. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly changed teams.”

Khemjira chuckled at the joke, brushing it off with practised ease. But for the briefest moment, something flickered behind her eyes… hesitation, maybe, or a thought she chose not to voice. She shook it off quickly, lips quirking back into her usual grin as she turned back to the monitor. “Work doesn’t do itself, P’Jay,” she replied, her tone light. Yet the words lingered heavier in her chest than she cared to admit.

Jay’s frown deepened. She could sense there was something unsaid in the way Khemjira brushed things off so easily, as though her cheerfulness was a shield she didn’t want anyone to peek behind. Jay parted her lips, ready to probe further, but the glass door slid open with a soft click.

The warm, earthy scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted into the room, stealing her attention. A slender figure stepped inside, carefully balancing two cups in her hands.

“P’Khem, your coffee…” May, the intern, announced in her usual gentle tone, walking over and placing one cup in front of Khemjira on her desk.

Khemjira blinked in surprise before her expression softened, the corners of her lips curving up. But it was Jay who spoke first, arching a brow.

“Oh, Nong May! You’re still here too?” she said, her voice laced with respect as she glanced at the clock again. “It’s already past eight… aren’t you going home?”

May shook her head quickly, straightening her posture as if to reassure them both. “I’m fine, P’Jay. I thought I’d stay and help P’Khemjira polish the design a little longer.”

At that, Khemjira lit up, her eyes glinting with pride. She shot May a thumbs up and leaned back in her chair with exaggerated flair. “Now that’s what I call dedication! I’m giving you an A-plus for this,” she declared playfully, her grin wide and animated. The quiet, pensive expression she’d worn moments before had all but vanished.

Jay exhaled a small laugh, shaking her head as she rolled her eyes. “You’re not her grader, Nong Khem. You don’t get to decide her grade,” she teased, her tone half exasperated, half amused.

Khemjira immediately pouted, her lower lip jutting out like a scolded child. May couldn’t help it… as she chuckled, the sound lightening the atmosphere even further.

“Well,” Jay relented after a pause, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “Since both of you are here, I suppose I can be at ease and focus too. At least I won’t have to sit here alone… it gets a little eerie in this office after hours.” She gathered her papers back into order, settling in more comfortably.

Then she clapped her hands together, deliberately breaking the mood before it could drift again. “Alright, enough chatter. Chop chop, both of you. Let’s get this work wrapped up so we can actually go home early for once.”

The sound of her voice echoed lightly in the quiet room, mingling with the warmth of coffee in the air and the quiet scratch of pencils against paper as the three of them got back to work.

Chapter Text

Rin pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes fixed on the document before her, but no matter how hard she tried, the words refused to settle into meaning. They blurred together, black ink dissolving into a haze her mind couldn’t hold. Her thoughts weren’t here. Her heart wasn’t here.

She absentmindedly bit down on the cap of her pen, a small, restless habit, while her gaze wandered toward the personal computer sitting silently on her desk. It was ridiculous, she knew, but the temptation gnawed at her all the same… to log into the office CCTV system, just for a moment, just for a glimpse of her so-called wife. Anything, even the briefest sight, to quiet the unease twisting inside her.

It had already been two days. Two whole days since Rin had seen Khemjira in person, and the absence was starting to weigh on her more than she cared to admit. She knew why, of course. The company was buzzing with tension, locked in a whirlwind over the new project: the competition between the design teams, each vying to create the perfect living room set and earn the management’s favour. Khemjira was in the thick of it, and Rin understood that her wife’s every second must be consumed by work.

But even knowing didn’t make it easier. Knowing didn’t stop the restless ache in her chest, the strange hollowness that stretched wider with every hour she didn’t see her.

Yes, Khem still called. She still checked in, asking what Rin was doing, whether she had eaten, her voice steady and warm through the line. Those little gestures should have been enough. They should have eased the worry, soothed the longing. But they didn’t. Not really. The sound of her voice filled Rin’s ears, but not the space beside her.

The office felt colder without her presence, and Rin couldn’t shake the feeling that something essential was missing, like a rhythm thrown off-beat. No matter how she tried to bury herself in paperwork, every line she read only reminded her of what wasn’t there, the soft, familiar figure she had grown used to seeking out in the corners of her day.

Two days. Only two. And yet, it felt like an eternity.

Rin shook her head firmly, trying to shake off the lingering temptation as if it were dust clinging stubbornly to her thoughts. No. She couldn’t afford to give in. Not like that. Straightening in her seat, she reached for the phone line instead and pressed the button with decisive fingers.

“Khun Mai,” she called, her voice even despite the unrest beneath it. “Come in.”

If she wanted to see her, she would do it properly… no sneaking, no shortcuts. It wouldn’t hurt, she reasoned, to visit the research department under the pretence of checking on the design teams. At least this way, she could justify her presence, even to herself.

Moments later, Khun Mai was at her side, quick as always, her neat heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she fell into step behind Rin. Together, they made their way down the corridor toward the department.

The moment Rin stepped into the first workspace, a ripple of surprise ran through the room. The designers looked up, startled, then quickly composed themselves. Some are even smiling, clearly eager to make an impression. It wasn’t every day the CEO walked into their workspace unannounced.

Rin, poised and composed as always, offered them a small, encouraging smile, nodding in greeting as one of the team members rushed forward to present their project. They spoke with energy, their voices quickened with excitement, eyes gleaming with determination to outshine the competition.

She listened, patient and attentive, letting each of them have their moment. One by one, the teams explained their concepts, gesturing at sketches, mock-ups, and swatches laid neatly across the tables. Their words tumbled over each other, passion and pressure woven into every sentence and Rin responded with practised grace, offering small nods and the occasional, “Mm, I see,” or “That’s interesting.”

Her presence alone seemed to ignite them further. Every time she leaned in to glance at a design board, the room brightened with renewed energy. For the designers, this was validation; for Rin, it was a performance… one she played flawlessly, even as her thoughts quietly strained elsewhere.

And though she moved from team to team, smiling and listening as though nothing weighed on her, Rin’s chest tightened ever so slightly with each step. Because she knew, sooner or later, her path through these workrooms would lead her to the one person she couldn’t stop thinking about.

At last, Rin found herself standing outside Khemjira’s design team room. Through the glass, she could see the space alive with energy… members bustling between desks, sketching, typing, comparing samples. The room was thick with determination, but Rin’s focus narrowed instantly to a single corner.

She froze mid-step, enough that Khun Mai, just behind her, tilted her head in quiet confusion at the CEO’s sudden halt.

Rin’s brows knitted together. Her gaze locked on Khemjira, smiling, radiant, her eyes shining in a way Rin hadn’t seen directed at herself in far too long. And beside her stood a tall woman, the two of them shoulder to shoulder, laughing softly at some private joke before nudging each other playfully.

That simple nudge hit Rin like a blade, sharp and unwelcome. Heat curled in her chest, coiling into a restlessness she couldn’t ignore. One hand pressed firmly around her waist, as though to steady herself, while her lips pressed into a thin, severe line. The sight of them was too close, too easy… unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

“Khun Mai,” Rin’s voice was steady, but her eyes never left the pair. “Who is that?” She inclined her head subtly toward the woman standing beside Khemjira.

The secretary leaned forward, squinting before giving a small nod. “That’s the new intern, Maylada… if I remember correctly.”

Maylada. May.

The name sparked recognition and irritation. Rin had heard it too often, always in Khemjira’s voice. May this. May that. Always woven into casual conversation, dropped like harmless details. But standing here, watching them together, it no longer felt harmless.

Rin let out a soft, incredulous scoff, blinking hard before drawing in a slow breath to calm herself. Don’t be irrational, she scolded silently, though her chest still ached with an unfamiliar tightness.

Still, the sight of her wife’s smile, so bright, so unguarded… given so freely to someone else was too much. Rin’s irritation bloomed into something heavier, almost suffocating.

With a sharp roll of her eyes, she turned abruptly, the cool click of her heels echoing against the corridor tiles. “Handle it,” she muttered to Khun Mai, leaving the secretary to manage the visit in her stead.

Rin didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Instead, she walked briskly down the hallway, retreating toward the safety of her office… the only place where she could breathe without the weight of that image burned behind her eyes.

************

By the time Rin reached her office, her composure was already worn down. She shut the door behind her with a little more force than necessary, the sharp click echoing in the silence. For a moment, she simply stood there, her hand still gripping the knob, her chest rising and falling as though she had just run a race.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she crossed the room, but instead of settling behind her desk, she dropped into the leather chair near the coffee table. One hand covered her face, nails digging into her temple. The other pressed against her chest, as if she could calm the erratic beating beneath her ribs.

That smile. That damn smile.

She had seen it a thousand times before… Khemjira’s bright, unguarded grin, the kind that used to be hers alone, the kind that could soften every sharp edge in Rin’s heart. But today, it hadn’t been for her. It had been for someone else. For May.

Rin exhaled shakily, tugging at the collar of her clothes. “Ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, forcing a bitter laugh. “Jealous over an intern? Really?”

But the words didn’t ease the knot in her chest. If anything, the ache deepened, dragging her thoughts back to the two of them, shoulder to shoulder, laughing as though the world outside that room didn’t exist.

She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, head in her hands. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. For two days, she had waited, restless and impatient, for a moment…just a moment to see her wife. To hear her voice without the distraction of her work or worried over the weight of deadlines. She told herself she could endure the distance, that it was just work, that Khemjira would come to her once things slowed down.

But what if she didn’t? What if Khemjira had found comfort elsewhere… in someone new, someone who could make her laugh with that same ease?

The thought clawed at Rin’s chest, sharp and merciless. Is this another scar waiting to form? Another pain she’ll have to endure?

Her breath caught. No. It wasn’t just a possibility. The weight of it pressed down because she had lived this story once before. The memory surged, uninvited… the sting of rejection, the coldness of a smile that no longer belonged to her, the hollow silence left in the aftermath.

She froze, her body stiff as if even her heart dared not move. Her chest tightened painfully, a dull throb that spread with every remembered detail of being left behind. Of being dumped… discarded like something that had lost its worth.

Prapai.

Her hand rose shakily, dragging down her face as though she could scrape the memory away. But when her fingers fell, the ache remained.

Rin forced her eyes up, and there in the glass was her reflection staring back. The polished, untouchable CEO, flawless on the surface, but with eyes rimmed in shadows. Eyes that betrayed the storm she fought to contain. She glared at that image, lips curling in quiet disdain. It was almost cruel, how perfectly composed she looked, when inside, she was nothing but cracks threatening to split open.

***********

It was nearing seven in the evening when Khemjira finally returned home. The weight of the long day still clung to her body as she moved through the hallway, waving off the maid who hurried forward to assist. She stretched her shoulders, wincing at the dull ache in her neck. Too many hours bent over drafts and sketches, too much of herself poured into the project that had consumed her for weeks.

But now, at last, it was in its final phase. Soon, her days would return to a softer rhythm… one that centred not around deadlines and designs, but around the woman she called her wife. The very thought of Rin pulled a smile to her lips, small at first, then warm and unguarded.

She pushed open the bedroom door, anticipation sparking in her chest.

And there she was.

Rin sat in her usual recliner, the leather chair tilted back just enough to cradle her frame. A glass of amber liquid rested loosely in her hand, catching the dim light. Her gaze, however, was far away, fixed on the drink as though staring into an endless void. She didn’t even flinch at the sound of the door opening, didn’t stir at the presence of her wife now standing just a few steps away.

Khemjira’s smile wavered, but she forced lightness into her tone.

“Long day, Khun Rin?” she teased softly, shrugging off her jacket as she crossed the room.

But there's no response. Not even a flicker.

Khemjira slowed her steps. The playful lilt in her voice faded, replaced by a thin thread of concern.
“Khun Rin…?”

Still, nothing. Only the faint shift of her wife’s fingers tightening around the glass, the way her chest rose and fell in quiet, restrained breaths. The kind that didn’t soothe, but burned from the inside out.

A chill pricked at the edges of Khemjira’s earlier warmth. Whatever had taken hold of her wife, it wasn’t exhaustion. It was something darker, something she couldn’t yet name.

“Khun Rin…” Khemjira’s voice softened, careful, almost pleading, as she took another step closer.

At last, the figure in the recliner stirred. Rin’s head tilted, slow and heavy, as though the movement itself weighed her down.

Khemjira’s heart lurched.

Her wife’s face was ghostly pale, her skin drained of warmth. Eyes rimmed in raw red… swollen, brimming with the kind of grief that spoke of tears shed long before Khemjira had even arrived. And beneath it all, a flicker of something else lingered… confusion, disorientation, as if Rin herself wasn’t entirely present in the moment.

“Oh… Khemjira,” Rin murmured, her voice thin and frayed. She blinked once, slowly, lips tugging into the faintest, fragile semblance of a smile. “Hm… you’re home.”

The words slurred, tangled in the haze of alcohol. Her glass wobbled dangerously in her hand, tilting just enough to make Khemjira’s breath catch.

In a swift motion, Khemjira closed the distance, steadying Rin’s hand before the glass could slip. She eased it gently away and set it on the bedside table, her frown deepening as she turned back to her wife.

Lowering herself onto the narrow edge of the recliner, she leaned in close. Her hand rose instinctively, cupping Rin’s cheek, thumb brushing along the chilled skin with aching tenderness.

“You’re drunk, my wife…” Khemjira whispered, voice soft but edged with unease. She tried to chuckle, tried to mask the tightness in her chest with lightness, but the sound rang hollow to her own ears.

Her fingers lingered against Rin’s face, tracing shadows of exhaustion, of pain she didn’t understand. And as she searched those weary eyes, something stirred in her memory… sharp, haunting.

It was the night before their wedding. The night of their first kiss. Rin had worn this very same expression back then, a mask of strength barely hiding the heaviness in her heart. A look that spoke of burdens Khemjira could not reach, no matter how deeply she tried to love her.

And now… here it was again.

The sight made her chest ache with fear. Because back then, Rin had pulled through. But tonight, Khemjira wasn’t sure if she could.

Khemjira’s thumb brushed gently along Rin’s cheek, her touch lingering as though she could soothe away whatever shadows clung there. Her eyes softened, filled with quiet love and worry as she searched her wife’s face.

“Are you having a bad day?” she asked softly, her voice carrying the warmth of someone desperate to understand. Her fingers continued their gentle caress, tracing the curve of Rin’s skin as though grounding her.

“Come,” Khemjira coaxed, her tone almost a lullaby. “Let’s get you into a bath, hm? Wash this all away… and then Khem’ll take you to bed so you can rest.”

Her words were tender, coaxing, not an order, not a demand, but an offering. A promise that Rin didn’t have to carry the weight alone, at least not tonight.

Rin blinked at her, slow and heavy, eyes shimmering with something unspoken. She didn’t move, not yet, but the faint quiver in her lips betrayed that Khemjira’s voice… that touch had reached past the haze of alcohol and into the storm she tried so hard to bury.

Rin let out a hollow little laugh, low and uneven, her gaze drifting past Khemjira’s shoulder as though the floor held more answers than her wife’s eyes ever could.

“A bath… no… I don’t want one…” she murmured, her words dragging sluggishly from her lips.

Her eyes lifted then, fixing on Khemjira. Unblinking. Unwavering. She just stared… as if trying to burn the image of her wife into memory, as though Khemjira might vanish if she dared to look away.

Khemjira’s chest tightened at the weight of that gaze. It wasn’t just drunkenness clouding Rin’s expression. No. It was something deeper, something raw. A silent plea woven into the silence, a desperation that pressed into the space between them.

“My wife…” Khemjira whispered, her hand still cupping Rin’s cheek, thumb brushing the pale skin. “You’re scaring me like this.”

Rin’s lips parted, but no words came. Only her eyes spoke, glassy, haunted, and holding on as if Khemjira was the last thread tethering her to the world.

***************

Rin blinked slowly, as if the simple act could clear the haze that clung stubbornly to her thoughts. Her body swayed before she leaned forward, pressing herself closer to Khemjira, seeking warmth, seeking something steady to hold onto. Maybe, just maybe, that closeness could ease the heaviness that had been sitting in her chest since the evening began.

All day, her mind had been restless, consumed by a single, suffocating thought, what if history repeated itself?

She leaves.

The memory burned sharp. Prapai had left. Just like that… no signs, no warnings, no chance to prepare her heart. One moment there was love, and the next… nothing. A vanishing act that carved scars too deep to heal.

And now, staring at Khemjira, the dread coiled tighter. Would this be the same story again? Would Khemjira one day decide to walk away too?

Rin’s breath hitched, the old fear gnawing at her resolve. She had once vowed never to love again because love, when given too freely, had only ever bitten back. Love had proven to be fleeting, temporary, a phase in someone else’s life… but a wound that lasted forever in hers.

Her trembling fingers clutched at Khemjira’s sleeve, desperate and unyielding, as though letting go would mean losing her entirely. Her lips parted, but no words came, her voice too frail, too broken to bridge the storm raging inside. Yet her silence spoke louder than anything she could have said...

Rin was terrified. Terrified of losing her.

She had almost lost Khemjira once before, and that wound still bled beneath the surface. The memory of it lingered like a ghost… sharp, unrelenting. She knew with a bone-deep certainty that if it ever happened again, if Khemjira slipped away from her now, she wouldn’t survive it. Not this time. Not again.

“Khemjira…” Rin’s voice wavered as she whispered her name, softer than a breath, almost as if speaking it aloud might shatter her entirely. Her hand tightened on Khemjira’s sleeve, fingers trembling, clutching not just fabric but her very anchor. She needed to hold on, or she feared she would come undone right there in front of her.

“Should I… be worried?” she asked at last, the words falling fragile into the silence between them. They sounded brittle even to her own ears, as though the wrong answer might push her over the edge, might send her tumbling from the precarious mountain she was clinging to. In that moment, Rin wasn’t the flawless person the world revered…she was simply a woman bracing for the answer that could break her.

Khemjira’s brows drew together, confusion softening the warmth in her eyes.

“Khun Rin…” she murmured, her tone tentative as if testing the air between them. She hesitated, searching her wife’s face for meaning, but found only shadows she couldn’t yet understand.

“What are you talking about?” she asked at last, voice gentle but threaded with uncertainty. To her, Rin’s question seemed to come from nowhere, a fragile whisper wrapped in fear she didn’t know how to answer.

Khemjira tilted her head, thumb brushing absently along Rin’s knuckles where they clung to her sleeve. Her heart ached at the tremor in her wife’s grip, but she was utterly clueless… unaware of the storm of memories and dread crashing just beneath Rin’s carefully composed surface.

“May…”

The word slipped out, thin and fragile, carrying the weight of every fear she’d tried to smother. A single name, yet it trembled with meaning. Rin’s lips quivered as though even speaking it might shatter her. She prayed… foolishly, desperately that Khemjira would understand without her having to explain, that she would see through the cracks and grasp the root of her unrest.

But the moment hung heavy in the air, brittle with silence. Rin’s eyes searched Khemjira’s face, terrified of what she might find or worse, what she might not.

“May? As in… May?” Khemjira repeated, her brows knitting in confusion. The name felt harmless to her, just a word, yet on Rin’s lips it carried a weight that made the air feel suddenly heavier.

Khemjira reached out, enclosing Rin’s trembling hand within both of hers, grounding her with warmth. Her thumb moved in slow, steady circles across Rin’s skin, a silent plea for her to calm.

“Khun Rin…” her voice dropped, soft and careful, as though one sharp note might shatter her wife completely. “What’s wrong?”

She paused, leaning closer, her gaze never leaving Rin’s shadowed eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” The words were coaxing, tender… spoken the way one might comfort a frightened child and yet behind them lay Khemjira’s own fear. Fear of what she didn’t yet understand, fear of losing Rin to something she couldn’t see.

The silence between them deepened until it felt almost alive… thick, suffocating, like a weight pressing down on both their chests. Khemjira could hear the faint tick of the clock on the wall, the uneven sound of Rin’s breathing, even the restless tremor in her wife’s fingers that clung to her sleeve.

Then Rin inhaled sharply, her shoulders shuddering with the effort, as though dragging air into her lungs took everything she had left. Her grip tightened, trembling but desperate, as if the thin fabric of Khemjira’s shirt was the only thing anchoring her from falling apart completely.

“I can change…” The words came out fragile, whispered almost like a prayer not to Khemjira, but to fate itself. Her voice cracked, brittle, betraying the weight she carried inside. “I’ll be better… I can give you more love…” Her lips trembled around each syllable, the promise spilling out in rushed fragments, as if she was bartering for her own salvation.

She faltered, chest rising and falling with the uneven rhythm of someone drowning in their own fear. Her eyes lifted, wide and shimmering with unshed tears, darting across Khemjira’s face like she was memorizing it, terrified that one blink would erase her wife forever.

And then, the dam broke. The plea tumbled out, raw and ragged, every letter soaked in despair.

“Just… don’t leave me.”

The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be. They carried the weight of a thousand silent screams… the sound of a heart that had already been broken once and was now begging not to shatter again.

Khemjira’s chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat. She frowned, her mouth parting wordlessly, but no sound came out. For a heartbeat, she simply stared… stunned, shaken by the rawness of Rin’s plea. She had known her wife carried ghosts, but never imagined they clawed this deeply still.

Finally, she exhaled, long and unsteady, lifting a hand to her face as though she could press the frantic rhythm of her heart back into calm. Her lips curved into a helpless little scoff, a fragile mask over the ache inside.

“Ah, Khun Rin…” she murmured, shaking her head. Her arms moved before her thoughts caught up, wrapping Rin against her chest, holding her as though she could shield her from every pain that’ll harm her. Her palm rubbed soothing circles against her trembling back. “For someone who claims to be the brightest among all,” she whispered with a shaky chuckle, “you really are an idiot when it comes to love…”

The words slipped out… meant to comfort, meant to tease but they sparked like a match against dry wood. Rin stiffened, her eyes flashing, and in a sudden burst of energy, she pushed back just enough to swat at Khemjira’s arm.

“Khemjira!” she snapped, sharp and indignant, though her voice wavered at the edges.

Khemjira blinked… then laughed softly. Relief washed through her like a tide. This… this fiery spark, this Rin with sharp eyes and a stubborn bite… this was her wife. The fragile, trembling shell from moments ago had cracked open, if only slightly, and Khemjira clung to that shift like a lifeline.

Khemjira’s grin softened into something gentler, warmer. She reached out, her thumb brushing over Rin’s damp cheek as if to erase every trace of fear that lingered there. “My wife…” she murmured, her voice low and steady, “you don’t need to worry. Not even a tiny bit.”

Her fingers lingered, cupping Rin’s face as though she were holding something precious, fragile, irreplaceable. She leaned in, her forehead nearly resting against Rin’s, her breath mingling with hers. “Khun Rin,” she whispered, the words carrying the weight of vows spoken long ago and promises she’d keep until her last breath, “Khem’s told you so many times already… but I’ll say it again, and again, until it’s burned into that stubborn mind of yours.”

Her lips curved faintly, but her eyes were fierce, unwavering. “You’re the only one for me. My wife. My heart. And I love you… deeply, endlessly, in ways no shadow of the past could ever touch.”

With her words lingering in the air, Khemjira leaned forward, intent on sealing her vow with a kiss. But as always, Rin turned her head at the last moment, her lips pressing into a stubborn line. Her squinting gaze lifted, sharp but fragile, and she whispered with suspicion, “But… May…”

Khemjira blinked, then let out a soft laugh, the sound warm instead of mocking. She found it endearing, adorable, even… that her brilliant, strong, dazzling wife could still be undone by something so small. She tilted her head, watching her with eyes full of quiet devotion.

Rin had always been an overthinker, her heart scarred and restless from the weight of her past. A past that taught her love could abandon, that affection could vanish without warning.

But Khemjira had vowed long ago… she would never be another ghost in Rin’s history. She would anchor her, again and again, until every doubt, every fear, was soothed into silence. Until the day she drew her last breath.

“A friend. A colleague. That’s all, my dear jealous wife,” Khemjira said pointedly, drawing out each word as though she were scolding a child caught pouting.

Rin narrowed her eyes, lips pressing together, studying her with sharp suspicion… as if one wrong twitch of Khemjira’s smile would expose a lie. But Khemjira only tilted her head, grin tugging at her lips, her gaze full of nothing but amusement and love.

“Honestly, Khun Rin…” she sighed dramatically, leaning closer, “at this rate, I’ll have to carry a giant sign that says ‘Property of Rin Only’ just so you can stop doubting me.”

That teasing grin disarmed her instantly. Rin tried to glare, tried to cling to her suspicion, but the warmth in Khemjira’s tone melted it away piece by piece. Her chest eased, her lips twitched despite herself, and even the haze of drunkenness gave way to reluctant laughter.

“Now, can I have my kiss, my dear wife…” Khemjira teased, leaning closer once more, determined to steal what she felt was rightfully hers. But Rin’s hand came up, pressing lightly against her lips, stopping her short.

Her eyes narrowed, suspicious still. “You spend so much time with her and barely come home…” she muttered, half accusation, half plea.

Khemjira frowned, sighing softly. Instead of pulling away, she caught Rin’s hand and brought it down gently, caressing her knuckles with slow, patient circles. Then she smiled… soft, soothing, a sincerity so raw it made Rin’s heartbeat skip.

“I didn’t spend time with her…” Khemjira said plainly, her voice steady. Her thumb traced the back of Rin’s hand as she leaned in just enough that her words felt like a secret. “I spent more time at work… because I want to be better.”

Rin’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering in her red-rimmed eyes.

Khemjira exhaled, steady but vulnerable, her gaze searching Rin’s. “Khun Rin… you said we’ll have kids.”

Rin’s head tilted, brow rising in surprise.

“I’m trying to be better,” Khemjira confessed, her hand drifting to point at herself. “Our kids can’t just have one successful mother while the other is…” she hesitated, a small self-deprecating laugh slipping through, “…still figuring it out. I don’t want to stand in your shadow. I want to stand beside you… so they can look at me too and feel proud. So I can be worthy of being their mom… your partner in everything.”

Her voice wavered just slightly at the end, but her smile… gentle, unwavering held steady as she cupped Rin’s cheek.

Rin blinked, her lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came. The weight of Khemjira’s words sank deep, pulling at the corners of her heart until her chest ached. Her wife’s sincerity always did this… always left her defenseless when she least expected it.

Her eyes softened, mist shimmering there, but she quickly turned her head, scoffing faintly as if to shake it off. “Idiot…” she whispered, her voice thinner than she intended. “You’re already more than enough. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

Khemjira’s grin widened at that…half triumphant, half tender. She leaned closer again, emboldened, but Rin’s hand shot up once more, pressing against her lips with stubbornness that was almost childlike.

“I said you’re enough, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you so easily,” Rin muttered, her cheeks warming despite her glare. “You still haven’t explained why May keeps smiling at you like that.”

Khemjira chuckled against her palm, her laughter vibrating softly against Rin’s skin before she pulled her hand away and kissed it instead. “Ah… so we’re back to May again?” she teased, her eyes dancing.

Rin huffed, crossing her arms as if she hadn’t just been on the verge of tears. But the way her lips curved, betraying the smallest of smiles, told Khemjira she’d already won.

She tilted her head, watching the way Rin tried to hold her glare, arms crossed tight, lips pursed stubbornly. But the faint tremble at the corner of her mouth, the way her cheeks flushed despite her scolding… Khemjira knew her wife too well.

“My dear Khun Rin…” she murmured, leaning closer until her breath ghosted against Rin’s cheek, “…you can keep accusing me all night if you want. I won’t mind. But at least…” her hand gently cupped Rin’s chin, tilting her face ever so slightly, “…let Khem love you while you’re doing it.”

Rin’s breath hitched, her eyes flicking nervously to Khemjira’s lips. For a heartbeat she fought it…clinging to her jealousy, her suspicion but her heart betrayed her, pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.

“Khem…” she whispered, but the word dissolved as Khemjira finally closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if asking permission. Rin’s resistance crumbled in a rush, her fists unclenching to curl into Khemjira’s shirt, tugging her closer. And when Khemjira deepened the kiss, slow and unhurried, Rin melted, every doubt slipping away in the warmth of her embrace.

When they finally parted, Rin’s cheeks were scarlet, her lips still tingling. She tried to scowl, but her voice betrayed her with its softness. “You always cheat,” she muttered, eyes lowering.

Khemjira chuckled, brushing her thumb over Rin’s flushed cheek. “Not cheating,” she whispered, grinning, “just winning.”

And though Rin clicked her tongue in annoyance, the way she buried her face against Khemjira’s shoulder told a different story entirely.

Khemjira’s laughter rumbled softly against Rin’s hair as she held her close, one arm wrapped securely around her waist. Rin grumbled something muffled against her shoulder, still pretending to sulk, but the way her fingers clung to Khemjira’s shirt betrayed her.

“I really am an idiot for loving you this much,” Rin muttered under her breath, though her voice was far too tender to sound convincing.

Khemjira smiled, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Then let’s be idiots together, hmm?” she teased gently. “Because I don’t ever plan on letting you go, Khun Rin. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next.”

For the first time that night, Rin allowed herself to fully exhale, to let the storm inside her quiet. She leaned into her wife’s warmth, her heart finally steady, the shadows of doubt fading into nothing.

And as Khemjira rocked her gently, whispering silly promises of love into her ear, Rin couldn’t help but think… maybe being loved like this was the safest place she’d ever be.

FIN 

[13.09.2025 NOTES]

 SEQUEL NEXT: LOVE IN NEW HOURS