Chapter Text
The midday sun poured down in golden sheets, casting shadows over an ancient temple hidden deep within a sacred forest. The whole scene felt as though it had stepped out of some distant land, far away and hazy, like the memories of old stories Kavin had once heard from his grandmother.
Bangkok was stiflingly hot these days, but the deeper Kavin and Kaning walked into the temple grounds, the cooler the air became. The chill seeped into their sweat-dampened foreheads, while the faint fragrance of incense drifting on the breeze made their journey feel lighter, almost refreshing. Side by side, they followed the shaded path lined with trees, searching for the temple’s abbot.
At that moment, in the main hall, the abbot was bowing solemnly before the Buddha, chanting prayers for peace and compassion. Kaning leaned lightly against Kavin, her gaze fixed on the scene before her. The hall and altar were simple in design yet no less dignified and reverent. What caught her attention most were the Malai Chai Deaw garlands, carefully handwoven and offered at the altar, just like the drawings that always hung proudly in the Kittiyangkul family’s living room.
“Hey, little one, do you recognize those garlands? They were all made by my grandmother and the household staff, offered to this temple,” Kavin whispered.
“Oh, you’re right. That’s the same garland design in the old sketch you gave me when we first met,” Kaning replied softly, leaning closer to his ear.
The chanting came to an end. The steady, low sound of the wooden gong faded into silence, restoring the sacred stillness of the hall. The abbot closed the worn pages of his ancient sutra, his robe swaying gently as he turned.
“Kavin, it’s been a long time since I last saw you here.”
“Yes, Luang Por.” Kavin and Kaning answered together, bowing respectfully with faint smiles.
Following the abbot lead, the young couple walked to the rear of the temple, stopping under the shade of a sprawling banyan tree. The old monk narrowed his eyes as he carefully lifted the garland from Kaning’s hands.
“It’s been so long since I last saw this garland… perhaps decades. Do the two of you believe in fate?”
“Fate can be a debt, or a blessing,” the monk continued, his voice calm yet layered with meaning. “Sometimes, when something remains unfinished in a past life, souls meet again in this one to complete it. For those who love each other, fate can be a blessing, but at times it is also the endless loop of karma. Some bonds stretch across lifetimes, even across realms of existence.” He lifted his gaze skyward, a gentle smile playing on his lips.
“If Madam Kittiyangkul entrusted this garland to you, she must have understood the bond between you. Then allow me to add my own blessing - “Keep these garlands and red threads with you. When you are lost, they will guide you back to one another safely. As for whether your fate is kind or cruel, that is for karma to decide. The choice is ultimately yours.”
Kavin and Kaning received the blessing with care, bowed their farewells, and began their journey back. The monk’s gaze lingered on the couple as he whispered under his breath:
“These two destinies are bound together. Perhaps it is an inescapable fate. May the dark prophecy never come to pass.”
On the way home, Kavin glanced at Kaning, fast asleep in the passenger seat, and smiled faintly. His eyes drifted to the red thread on her wrist, and the monk’s cryptic words echoed in his mind. Suddenly, a flash of blinding light streaked across his vision. Instinctively, he threw himself sideways from the driver’s seat, wrapping his arms tightly around Kaning.
A truck from the opposite lane, out of control, slammed directly into their car. A deafening crash shattered the air. Kavin’s vision blurred, the scene from his previous dream flickering once more before his eyes. His ears rang, drowning in silence. In his hand, the red thread remained clenched tight.