Chapter Text
CHAPTER ONE: BLURRED LINES
( Flashback from two years ago )
Namtan stood in the kitchen of her cozy apartment, her hands trembling slightly as she carefully tied the ribbon around a small, intricately wrapped gift box. The aroma of freshly baked cupcakes filled the air, each one delicately frosted with Aim’s favorite colors—soft pastels. A simple dinner table had been set up nearby, adorned with fairy lights and a scattering of daisies, Aim’s favorite flowers.
Namtan glanced at the clock. Aim would be here soon. Her heart raced with excitement and nervousness as she rehearsed what she wanted to say. It was their three-year anniversary, and she had planned every detail meticulously—a heartfelt letter, the cupcakes, and a necklace she’d spent weeks saving for.
“Tonight, everything will be perfect,” she whispered to herself.
As the minutes ticked by, she checked her phone compulsively, waiting for Aim’s message. But instead of the usual warmth of Aim’s “on my way” text, a call came through. Namtan’s stomach sank as she saw Aim’s name flash on the screen.
“Hey, where are you?” Namtan asked, trying to keep her voice light.
Aim’s voice on the other end was strained, almost lifeless. “Namtan… can we talk?”
The weight in those words was immediate, like a stone dropped into the pit of Namtan’s stomach. “Talk? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Aim hesitated. “I’m outside your building. Can I come up?”
Moments later, the knock came, and when Namtan opened the door, she barely recognized the girl standing in front of her. Aim’s eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale. She looked like someone carrying the weight of the world.
“What’s going on? Did something happen?” Namtan asked, guiding her inside.
Aim didn’t answer at first. She walked into the apartment, her eyes briefly scanning the decorations and the effort Namtan had poured into the evening. The sight made her wince, as if it hurt her to see.
Namtan’s heart began to pound. “Aim, please, talk to me.”
Aim took a deep breath and finally looked at her, tears brimming in her eyes. “My parents… they found out about us.”
Namtan froze. Though Aim’s parents had never fully approved of her, they had kept their disapproval at a distance. This felt different. “What do you mean? We’ve been careful.”
“They’ve been asking questions,” Aim said, her voice breaking. “They’ve known for a while, but they didn’t want to confront me until now. They said… they said I have to stop seeing you. They want me to marry someone.”
Namtan stared at her, the words not fully sinking in. “Marry someone? Are you kidding me? Aim, we’ve been through this before. You don’t have to listen to them. You don’t owe them your life!”
“It’s not that simple!” Aim’s voice rose, startling Namtan. “They’re my parents, Namtan. My family. They’ve never accepted us, and they never will.”
“But I love you!” Namtan cried, desperation creeping into her voice. “Isn’t that enough? We can figure it out together, Aim. Please, don’t do this.”
Aim’s tears spilled over, and she shook her head. “I can’t fight them anymore. I’ve tried, Namtan. I’ve tried so hard. But they’re threatening to cut me off, to disown me if I don’t marry this guy. I don’t have a choice.”
Her words hit Namtan like a slap. “No choice? You’re choosing them over us. Over me.”
Aim sobbed, reaching for Namtan’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted it to end like this. I love you, but—”
“Don’t,” Namtan said, pulling her hand away. Her voice was cold now, her heart breaking piece by piece. “Don’t tell me you love me if you’re going to walk away.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence was deafening.
“I should go,” Aim whispered, wiping her tears.
Namtan didn’t stop her. She couldn’t. She watched as Aim walked out of her apartment and out of her life, the door closing with a finality that shattered something inside her.
The table, the cupcakes, the carefully chosen necklace—all of it became a cruel reminder of the love that had just slipped through her fingers.
As Namtan sat alone in the dimly lit apartment, the pain was overwhelming. Aim was gone, and with her, the future Namtan had dreamed of.
( Present day )
The rain tapped gently on the windowpane, its rhythm a melancholic soundtrack to Namtan’s dimly lit apartment. Her studio, usually buzzing with the hum of creativity, was a mess—half-filled coffee mugs, piles of untouched photo prints, and her camera resting lifelessly on the table. For years, it had been like this. Her once fiery passion for photography had dwindled, replaced by an aching void left behind by a breakup she hadn't seen coming.
Namtan slumped into her chair, a stack of old photo albums by her side. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. Maybe some kind of comfort in the memories, maybe a sign of where it had all gone wrong.
Flicking through pages of captured moments—laughter with friends, golden sunsets, stolen kisses with her ex-girlfriend—she felt a pang in her chest. There it was again, the familiar ache that came every time she allowed herself to remember. She set the album down and reached for a dusty external hard drive instead.
Plugging it into her laptop, she opened folders she hadn’t touched in years. Each image flashed briefly on the screen: candid shots of bustling streets, serene landscapes, and portraits of strangers who had once caught her eye. It was a bittersweet reminder of the passion that used to drive her.
And then she froze.
The girl in the photo seemed to stare back at her. Namtan’s breath hitched as she clicked on the image to enlarge it. The photo was slightly out of focus, but there was no denying the striking presence of the subject—a young woman with soft features, her expression a mixture of vulnerability and strength. Her hair framed her face like a halo, and her eyes, though blurred, held an intensity that seemed to pierce through the years.
Namtan frowned, trying to place where and when she had taken the photo. It wasn’t unusual for her to photograph strangers, capturing fleeting moments of beauty in the everyday, but this one felt… different.
She scrolled through the folder and found more photos of the same girl—some candid, some posed, all taken on the same day. The images had a dreamlike quality, as if the lens had captured not just the girl but also the way Namtan had felt in that moment. But the more she tried to recall, the fuzzier the memory became.
“Who are you?” she whispered to the screen.
She leaned closer, as if doing so would sharpen the details in the blurry face. The timestamp on the photos read four years ago, a time that felt like a lifetime away.
The realization hit her like a jolt. She couldn’t remember the circumstances of that day, or even why this girl had caught her attention. All she could recall was a vague sense of awe, the kind that made her instinctively reach for her camera.
Namtan sat back, running a hand through her hair. Why had she forgotten this girl? More importantly, why did she feel so drawn to her now, as if she were a missing piece of something she couldn’t quite define?
For the first time in years, Namtan felt a flicker of something she hadn’t felt in a long time—curiosity. A spark.
She grabbed her notebook and began jotting down everything she could remember about that day, no matter how fragmented. The streets she might have wandered, the kind of light filtering through the sky, the faint echo of a conversation.
This wasn’t just about the girl in the photos. It was about something bigger, something buried deep within herself.
Namtan didn’t know what she was searching for yet, but she knew one thing for certain: she had to find that girl.
The blurry image stared back at her, its mystery a challenge she couldn’t ignore. And for the first time in a long time, Namtan felt alive.
( Three hours later after searching clues about the girl )
The faint glow of her laptop screen illuminated Namtan’s face as she stared at the blurry photo of the girl once more. It was as if the image was daring her to remember. She leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. If she was going to find this girl, she couldn’t do it alone.
Her fingers moved quickly as she transferred the photos to her phone, cropping and brightening them to make the girl’s face as clear as possible, though the blurriness refused to fully disappear. Frustrated but undeterred, Namtan reached for her camera. The familiar weight of it in her hands felt grounding, like reuniting with an old friend.
Before she could second-guess herself, she opened her messaging app and typed a text to Milk, her closest friend and fellow photographer. Milk had been with her through thick and thin, including the dark days after her breakup with Aim. If anyone could help her, it was Milk.
Namtan:
Hey, are you free? I need to talk to you about something.
She stared at the screen, waiting for the little typing indicator to appear. It didn’t take long.
Milk:
Depends. Are you finally asking me out for coffee, or is this about work?
Namtan rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile.
Namtan:
Neither. It’s… weird. I found an old photo of a girl I took years ago. Do you think you can help me figure out who she is?
A few seconds passed before Milk replied.
Milk:
Sounds intriguing. Send me the pic.
Namtan hesitated. She’d always been careful about her work, especially when it involved strangers. But this felt different. She selected the clearest photo of the girl and sent it to Milk.
A moment later, her phone buzzed again.
Milk:
You took this? Wow, she’s gorgeous. Where’d you meet her?
Namtan:
That’s the thing. I don’t remember. I think it was four years ago, but everything about that day is a blur. I don’t even know her name.
Milk:
Okay, now I’m invested. What’s the plan?
Namtan:
Can we meet? I feel like I need to talk this through in person.
Milk:
Of course. Same café?
Namtan:
Perfect. I’ll be there in 30.
With that settled, Namtan grabbed her bag, camera, and phone. As she stepped out of her apartment, the weight of the last two years felt lighter somehow. For the first time since Aim had walked out of her life, Namtan felt like she was moving forward—not just away from the pain but toward something new.
And deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that finding this girl was the key to rediscovering not just her passion for photography, but something even more profound.
—
The smell of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of chatter greeted Namtan as she pushed open the door to the café. It was a small, familiar spot tucked away in the quieter part of the city, where she and Milk often met to share ideas or vent about their lives.
Namtan’s eyes scanned the room, and she quickly spotted Milk sitting at their usual corner table by the window. Her friend was already sipping on what looked like a caramel latte, her phone resting on the table. Milk caught Namtan’s eye and waved enthusiastically, her playful grin evident even from across the room.
“You’re late,” Milk teased as Namtan slid into the seat across from her.
“It’s five minutes,” Namtan replied, setting her bag down. “Besides, I had to grab this.” She patted her camera, which hung from her shoulder.
Milk raised an eyebrow. “Now I’m curious. What’s so urgent that you dragged me out here?”
Namtan sighed and placed her phone on the table. “Okay, so… remember how I said I’ve been stuck? No inspiration, no motivation?”
Milk nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for you to snap out of it. What changed?”
“This,” Namtan said, unlocking her phone and pulling up the photo of the girl. She handed the phone to Milk.
Milk leaned forward, studying the image closely. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked from one detail to the next. “Okay, wow. She’s stunning. And there’s something about the way you captured her… it’s like you were in a trance.”
“That’s the thing,” Namtan said, leaning in. “I don’t remember taking this photo. I mean, I know it’s my work. The style, the composition—it’s definitely mine. But the memory? It’s a complete blank. I found these in an old folder from four years ago.”
Milk’s expression shifted, her teasing demeanor replaced by genuine curiosity. “You don’t remember at all? Not even where you were that day?”
Namtan shook her head. “Nothing. Just… fragments. I know I felt something when I saw her, something powerful enough to make me take these photos. But that’s it.”
Milk handed the phone back to her, tapping her fingers on the table. “And you’re sure you’ve never seen her since?”
“I’m positive. I’d remember someone like her,” Namtan said, her voice soft. “That’s why I need your help. You’re always at events, galleries, even those random street fairs. Have you ever seen her?”
Milk tilted her head, thinking. “I can’t say I have. But honestly, you know how big this city is. If she’s still around, it’s not impossible to find her.”
“That’s exactly what I’m hoping,” Namtan said, her determination evident.
Milk leaned back in her chair, a sly smile forming on her lips. “You know, this feels like one of those romantic indie films. Girl finds mysterious photo, sets off on a journey to find the subject, and—”
“Stop,” Namtan cut her off, rolling her eyes. “This isn’t a movie. I just… I need to know why this feels so important. It’s like she’s a part of something I’ve forgotten, something I need to understand.”
Milk nodded, her tone more serious now. “I get it. Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll ask around—friends, photographers, anyone who might recognize her. And you… start retracing your steps. Think back to where you were four years ago. Look through other photos from that time. Maybe something will click.”
Namtan smiled, grateful. “Thanks, Milk. I knew you’d understand.”
Milk shrugged, picking up her latte. “What are friends for? Besides, this sounds way more exciting than editing wedding photos.”
They both laughed, and for the first time in months, Namtan felt a glimmer of hope. This wasn’t just about finding a stranger in a photograph. It was about piecing together a part of herself she thought she’d lost.
( The next day )
The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the city streets as Namtan and Milk stood at the bus stop, a slight chill in the air. Milk held her latte in one hand and her phone in the other, scrolling through maps and old event photos. Namtan clutched her camera bag tightly, her phone in her pocket, the mysterious photo tucked safely in her mind.
“You’re sure about this?” Milk asked, glancing up at Namtan.
Namtan nodded. “I went through some of my older photos this morning. There were a few landscape shots in the same folder—street signs, a park, even a market. It all pointed to somewhere on the outskirts of the city.”
Milk shrugged, a teasing grin playing on her lips. “Well, it’s not like I had plans today. Let’s see where this mystery bus takes us.”
The bus arrived with a groaning hiss, and the two of them climbed aboard, settling into seats near the back. Namtan sat by the window, watching the city fade into quieter neighborhoods as the bus rumbled forward.
“Do you think she’ll still be there?” Milk asked, breaking the silence.
“I don’t know,” Namtan admitted. “But something about that day must have drawn me to her. If I can just get a sense of where I was, maybe I’ll find more clues. Or at least… a part of myself I lost.”
Milk leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “You’ve got guts, Namtan. A lot of people would just let a photo like that stay in the past.”
“This feels different,” Namtan said softly. “Like it’s unfinished.”
( After nearly an hour )
The bus came to a stop near an older, quieter part of the city. Namtan recognized the area immediately—it was the same one captured in the landscapes she’d seen in her folder. The narrow streets were lined with small shops, vibrant murals, and cobblestone paths leading toward a large park in the distance.
“This is it,” Namtan said, stepping off the bus with Milk close behind.
Milk stretched and looked around. “I’ll admit, it’s kind of charming. Where to first?”
Namtan pulled out her phone and scrolled through the other photos from the folder. One of them showed a small café with a bright red awning and wooden chairs outside. “There,” she said, pointing down the street.
They walked for a few minutes until they found the café, now slightly weathered but still familiar. The sight sent a shiver through Namtan—it was like stepping into a memory.
Inside, the café was quiet, save for a few patrons. Namtan scanned the room, hoping for some spark of recognition, but nothing came.
“Excuse me,” she said, approaching the barista at the counter. “Can I ask if you’ve worked here long?”
The barista, a young man with dark glasses, tilted his head. “About five years. Why?”
Namtan pulled out her phone and showed him the photo. “Do you recognize this girl? I think I might’ve taken this photo near here about four years ago.”
The barista squinted at the image. “Hmm… sorry, no. But you might want to check out the park. A lot of people hang around there, and some vendors set up market stalls every now and then.”
Namtan thanked him and turned back to Milk.
“The park it is,” Milk said, already heading toward the door.
The park was sprawling, with winding paths, open green spaces, and clusters of trees that created cozy little pockets of shade. As they walked, Namtan tried to recall something—anything—that might give her more clarity.
They passed a small fountain, its water glittering in the sunlight. Nearby, an older woman was selling handmade jewelry from a wooden cart.
Milk nudged Namtan. “You should ask her. She looks like she’s been here a while.”
The woman looked up as they approached, her smile warm. “Looking for something special?”
“Actually, I’m looking for someone,” Namtan said, showing her the photo. “Do you recognize her?”
The woman studied the image, her brow furrowing. “Hmm… I’m not sure. She does look familiar, though. Have you tried asking at the art stalls? There’s a guy who sells sketches and portraits. He’s been here for years and knows everyone who comes through.”
“Thank you,” Namtan said, her hope rekindled.
They followed the woman’s directions to a corner of the park where artists had set up booths. Among them was an older man sketching on a canvas. His stall was filled with portraits—some realistic, others abstract—all vibrant and alive.
“Excuse me,” Namtan said. “I’m trying to find someone.”
The man looked up from his work, his eyes sharp and curious.
Namtan held out her phone, showing him the photo. “I think I might’ve taken this here a few years ago. Do you recognize her?”
The man stared at the image for a long moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I’ve seen her before,” he said finally.
Namtan’s heart skipped a beat. “You have?”
He nodded. “She used to come here often, four or five years ago. Always sat under that big tree over there, sketching in a notebook. I haven’t seen her in a long time, though.”
Namtan followed his gaze to a large oak tree near the edge of the park. It was quiet now, the grass beneath it untouched.
Milk clapped her hands together. “Progress! At least we know she used to hang around here.”
“Do you remember anything else about her?” Namtan asked the artist.
The man scratched his chin. “Not much. She was quiet, but polite. I remember her drawings—delicate, beautiful things. She seemed… lost in her own world.”
Namtan felt a pang of recognition. She thanked him and turned toward the tree, her camera in hand. Maybe there was something there—some remnant of her, some clue waiting to be uncovered.
Milk followed her silently, sensing the gravity of the moment. Together, they walked toward the tree, both feeling like they were on the brink of discovering something important.
Namtan and Milk stood under the shade of the old oak tree, the atmosphere growing heavier as they tried to piece together the clues. The breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying a quiet sadness with it.
“Let’s ask her,” Namtan said, motioning toward an older woman who was sweeping fallen leaves nearby. Her silver hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and her weathered hands moved carefully, brushing away the debris.
Milk followed as they approached the woman. She looked up from her sweeping and offered a faint smile.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Namtan began, her voice steady but uncertain. “Do you remember the girl from the photo? She used to sit under this tree years ago, always sketching.”
The old woman paused, her gaze turning distant as if she was lost in thought. After a moment, her wrinkled face softened.
“Yes, I remember her,” the woman said quietly. “She was a quiet girl. Always here, sketching under the tree. Young, with such gentle eyes.”
Namtan leaned in, holding her breath. “Do you know what happened to her?”
The woman sighed, her shoulders sagging. “There was… an accident. A hit-and-run, they said. I heard about it from others. No one ever knew if she survived. Poor girl.”
Namtan’s heart sank. A hit-and-run? The words echoed in her head, heavy and painful.
Milk glanced at Namtan, her expression troubled. “Hit-and-run? Do you think it’s the same girl from the photo?”
“I don’t know,” Namtan whispered, shaking her head. “But… if it is, what if she didn’t make it?”
The old woman gave them a sympathetic look. “It’s been years now. No one ever came back asking after her. I always hoped she was alright, but…” Her voice trailed off.
Namtan clutched her camera tighter, the weight of the revelation pressing down on her. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The old woman gave them a small nod before returning to her sweeping, leaving Namtan and Milk standing in silence beneath the tree.
Namtan thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. The old woman’s words echoed in her mind: hit-and-run... no one knew if she survived. The possibility that the girl from the photo might not be alive anymore felt overwhelming.
Milk placed a comforting hand on Namtan’s shoulder. “Hey,” she said gently, breaking the silence. “We don’t know for sure. Maybe there’s more we haven’t uncovered yet.”
Namtan took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “It feels like everything’s slipping away,” she murmured. “I wanted to find her, to understand why I captured her, but now... if she’s gone, what’s left of that connection?”
Milk studied her friend’s face. “Namtan, even if she’s not here, you’re still drawn to those memories. That means something. You’re not just chasing after a face in a photo. There’s something deeper—something lost that you’re trying to find.”
Namtan nodded, squeezing her eyes shut briefly. “I know,” she said. “It’s not just about finding her. It’s about finding... myself.”
Milk gave her a small smile. “Then maybe it’s not over. Not yet.”
They stood there in silence, the weight of their unspoken thoughts settling between them. The park stretched out before them, peaceful and still, but the past seemed to cling to the air.
Namtan took one last look at the tree, at the spot where the girl had once sat. The memory of her was clearer now, more real than ever. Even if she couldn’t see her again, that image and the connection they once shared would linger in Namtan’s heart forever.
With a sigh, she turned away from the tree, the photo still in her mind. “Let’s go,” she said quietly. “We’ll keep searching. For whatever answers might still be out there.”
Milk followed, stepping beside her as they walked back toward the bus stop. The day was fading, but Namtan knew that her
journey wasn’t over yet.
( End of Chapter One )