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Our series has become so popular that off days are rare. So when I finally get one, I spend it the best way I know how—at home, where everything is exactly as it should be.
I love my space. It’s predictable, orderly. Here, I can think without distractions. I don’t have to measure my words, second-guess my tone, or replay conversations in my head, wondering if I said something wrong. Most importantly, I can be silent for as long as I want without anyone questioning it.
I can just be.
"72! 72! 72!"
The sudden outburst makes me flinch.
Or can I?
Namtan, my onscreen partner, sprawls across my couch like she owns it, shouting at the TV as if the trivia show contestant can actually hear her. She looks completely at ease—legs stretched out, arm draped over the cushions. The cushions I had just fluffed and arranged.
I didn’t even invite her. But here she is, making herself at home.
I should be annoyed. People showing up unannounced is a threat to my peace. But how can I be, when Namtan is the most considerate of them all?
She texts when she leaves her house. She gives me her estimated time of arrival. That’s enough to prepare myself mentally, to adjust my energy levels.
And, honestly? I like the pattern.
Namtan only comes over when we have two-day breaks—never when we’re shooting out of town the next day. She doesn’t come in the morning, either. It’s always between 2 and 4, like clockwork.
Like she knows exactly when I’ll be ready for company.
When she notices me approaching, she immediately fluffs my cushions before sitting up straighter. Then her eyes land on the slice of cake I had. She gasps dramatically.
“Nong! You’re eating too much sugar again!”
I raise an eyebrow. “Fine. Share it with me, then.”
She pouts. “But I’m so full.”
"Serves you right for finishing the tom yum I was saving for tomorrow.”
She grins, unrepentant. “Let’s just go out tomorrow, then! I’ll take you to a good shop!”
I take a careful breath. Tomorrow is already planned. The tom yum aside, I’ve already prepared everything I need. I even did my laundry today just so I wouldn’t have to go out. "I just want to stay home."
"Okay." She shrugs, then points at the cake. “Feed me.”
Is it really okay with her?
Namtan is everything I’m not. She feels everything loudly. She speaks without hesitation, acts without overthinking. She doesn’t have to mentally prepare for company—the more, the merrier for her. She loves exploring new things.
And yet, she’s here. With me.
I wonder, not for the first time, why she spends so much time with me. If she’s ever been disappointed whenever I reject her invitations to go out. And for just a moment, a dark thought creeps in.
"Do you ever get bored with me?" The words slip out before I can stop them.
They hang between us, heavy and fragile. I regret them immediately. They make me sound needy. Insecure. Insecure of what, exactly? I don’t even know how to define what Namtan and I are behind the cameras.
But I can’t take them back.
Namtan blinks, startled. Then she laughs—soft, genuine, like the idea itself is absurd. She grabs the plate from me, sets it down on the table, then cups my face, her palms warm against my skin.
"Bored?" she echoes. “Film, do you really think I’d come here all the time if I was bored with you?”
I drop my gaze. “I don’t know. You like going out. You like people. You like… movement. And I…” My voice trails off. I exhale, rubbing the tips of my fingers together—a grounding habit. “I’m not like that. I don’t think I’ll ever be like that.”
She tilts her head, studying me.
“That’s true.” She never sugarcoats things. “But I’m not asking you to be. I like you just the way you are. And who says you’re boring? I will fight them!”
I roll my eyes at her.
She leans in slightly, her voice softer now. “Maybe you don’t realize it, but being with you makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. My heart beats too fast. Your voice, your whispers—they’re not loud, but they drown out everything else. And just talking to you…” She smiles, shaking her head. “you take me places I never even thought of reaching.”
I stare at her. It’s strange, hearing that. I’ve always assumed that someone like her—so full of life—would find my world dull.
She grins. “Plus, I like your silence. I want to bask in it.”
Something in my chest tightens. Warm. Steady. Comforting.
I’ve always thought of myself as someone people tolerate rather than seek out. Someone easy to overlook. But with Namtan, I don’t feel invisible.
She picks up my book, flipping it over in her hands. “So, what are we reading tonight?”
I shake my head, a reluctant smile forming. “We?”
"Well, yeah.” She shrugs. “I like listening to you read.”
I snort. “You always fall asleep halfway.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do.”
She pouts. “Maybe. But that’s because your voice is too soothing.”
I roll my eyes, but something in me feels lighter. The doubt from earlier fades, replaced by something real. Something solid.
Maybe I don’t have to be loud to be interesting. Maybe I don’t have to change to be someone worth staying for.
Namtan throws a pillow at me, grinning. “Come on, start reading. If I fall asleep, just wake me up. Or, you know… let me finally stay over tonight.”
I shake my head but don’t argue. Instead, I flip open my book and begin to read. And as I do, she shifts closer, her warmth settling beside me.
"Fine," I say simply. "Stay over."
It’s like she’s rewriting the rules of my tidy world.
And I don’t mind the change.