Chapter Text
The first thing people noticed when they looked at Nunew was softness.
Soft smile.
Soft voice.
Soft features.
Gentle curves and doe-like eyes that made him look younger than his twenty-six years.
He had married at twenty-three.
An arranged marriage. Two families tied together by business, prestige and reputation.
Most people said he had the kind of face that made others want to protect him.
But the only person who should have protected him, was the one hurting him the most.
Man Trisanu Soran.
His husband.
Everyone believed that Man was the perfect husband. The golden man of a woman-led multinational banking empire.
Good-looking. Educated.
Executive Director at thirty-one.
Polite to elders. Charming to business partners.
A man who always held Nunew’s waist affectionately at events, always introduced him as “My lovely husband.” always bought him the expensive gifts before anniversaries.
A loving husband.
At least, that was the story he fed the world.
Behind closed doors, behind the tinted windows of their luxury mansion, Man became someone else entirely.
His hands were not gentle.
His anger was not mild.
And his love came in the form of bruises hidden beneath silk shirts, behind diamond necklaces, under wide collars and long sleeves.
The quiet sunlight spilled through the tall windows of their pristine kitchen. The light was gold. Softened by the sheer curtains he chose, because Man hated harsh, bright light.
“It gives me a headache,” he always said.
Nunew stood by the dining table, hands trembling slightly as he placed down the expensive shopping bags Man had bought that evening.
A thin silver bracelet wrapped in velvet priced almost half million baht.
A gift to cover the bruises on his ribs because Nunew was oversleep and late waking him up for work yesterday.
His stomach still hurt whenever he inhaled too deeply.
Still, he moved the way he always did.
Calm. Graceful.
Silent like silence itself was the only shield he owned.
He placed a hand over his ribcage, breathed shallowly and whispered to himself, barely audible
“You are fine, Nunew. You are fine.”
He told himself that every morning.
And somehow, he still hoped.
The first abuse Nunew had experience was three years ago.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
Nunew sliced vegetables in the kitchen, careful and precise. His hand shook each time he lifted the knife.
Their marriage just step into two months, but he made so much minor mistakes that Man has been point it out many times.
And it scares Nunew.
He could hear Man’s footsteps upstairs.
Slow.
Heavy.
Predictable.
He prayed he would stay upstairs.
He didn’t.
Man appeared in the doorway, tie loosened, eyes already cold.
“You didn’t iron my shirt.” His voice was calm. Too calm.
Nunew widen his eyes, panicking, “I’m— I’m sorry, I was still cooking— I’ll do it now—”
Man’s fingers grabbed his wrist.
Tight.
Unforgiving.
“You had all day, New.”
“I—I’m sorry—”
The slap came without warning.
A clean, sharp sound.
Nunew’s head snapped to the side. His jaw exploded with pain.
The floor tilted.
Man didn’t shout.
He rarely did.
He spoke quietly, like disappointment was worse than anger, “Why do you make me do this?”
Nunew swallowed, jaw throbbing, vision blurring.
“I’m sorry…”
“You apologize but you never learn.” Man grabbed his upper arm, squeezing hard.
Nunew bit down a cry. "I never want to hurt you. But how many times already..." he sigh.
“Do you think people would want you if they knew what you’re like?” Man whispered against his ear. “Weak. Slow. Always ruining something.”
“I’ll do better,” Nunew pleaded, voice cracking. “I’ll be good, I promise, just—please—”
Man shoved him against the counter.
Pain shot through his ribs. His smooth, white skin that never had any scar, now bruised.
Nunew gasped.
The world dimmed.
Man tilted his head, studying him like a faulty object.
“See?” he murmured. “You break too easily.”
He walked away, calm, adjusting his sleeves.
Nunew slid to the floor once the footsteps faded.
He breathed in shallow, trembling pulls.
His ribs screamed.
His jaw pulsed with every heartbeat.
He stayed there for several minutes. Maybe longer, until he could stand.
He cleaned the small smear of the mess on the counter.
He washed his face.
Put ice on his jaw.
Pressed a warm towel to his ribs.
And when July peeked out of the room, sleepy-eyed, he smiled at the cat.
“Go back to sleep, dear.”
When he closed the door, his smile fell.
He stared at the mirror.
He didn’t recognize the man looking back.
And the next day, Man give him a luxury watch, alongside with apology and a big roses bouquet.
"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I love you."
And it just repeat.
Again and again.
Nunew had grown used to being unseen long before marriage.
Though his parents were wealthy, owners of several businesses, affection was something they gave sparingly.
During his childhood, they love him just like all the parents would do.
Not until the age where he choose culinary school instead of business. The gap widened into a chasm.
His older brother graduated with MBA from Japan.
Charismatic, confident.
Became the golden child again the moment he returned home. He and his elegant, pregnant wife received endless attention. His parents faces glowed whenever the couple entered a room.
When Nunew visited without Man, he blended into the background like paint on the wall.
There was one memory he could never forget.
University break.
Nunew was twenty.
He had just learned a new dish. Fish with herbs.
Excitement fluttered in his chest as he cooked. Carefully, lovingly. Hoping maybe this time maybe they would love and acknowledge his passion.
P’Noom, the longtime maid who adored him, placed the dish on the dining table with a proud smile.
“Young Master Nunew cooked this. I tasted it. Really delicious.”
Nunew sat quietly, hopeful.
Hopeful like a child who didn’t know any better.
But throughout the entire dinner, nobody of his flesh touched it.
Not one spoonful.
Only his sister-in-law took bites, smiled warmly and whispered, “It’s really good. Don’t stop cooking, Nong Nunew.”
He smiled back.
Soft, grateful. Too afraid to speak. “Thank you, P’Aom.”
He didn’t want his family scolding her later for ‘encouraging nonsense’.
That night he cried silently in the kitchen while washing dishes. His masterpiece ending in the garbage bin.
That memory never faded.
But he never stop loving his family.
Now, his life a little different.
He was no longer invisible, at least not without Man as their family love his husband. Man know how to gain one's trust.
Nunew's family love him.
His parents start acknowledge him again as he married Man. The man that look perfect in everyone's eyes.
But not to Nunew.
Man always watching him.
But not with love.
Not with pride.
Not with affection.
But with posession and suspicion.
Man monitored everything.
What he cooked.
What he wore.
Who he talked to.
Sometimes Man brought him roses.
Sometimes he kissed Nunew’s forehead.
Sometimes he said, “You’re the most precious thing I have.”
Always after the anger.
Always after the bruises.
Love, punishment, apology.
Man treated them like ingredients in the same pot.
That day had been peaceful.
No arguments, no yelling in the morning.
Man was at work like always.
So Nunew allowed himself a tiny luxury walk with July, his grey and black marble-patterned cat with wise eyes and a quiet nature.
Long pants, long shirts, covering the bruises that he never wanted.
He clipped the soft harness around July’s body carefully, whispering “Good boy,” as the cat purred.
Then they walked along the pavement of their upscale neighborhood.
Nunew walked with his head slightly lowered, breathing in the breeze. His shoulder still ached from last week’s incident, but today felt gentle.
He walk two round before walking back to his house.
Then he heard familiar voice from the back.
“Oh my. I have never seen someone walk their cat before. That is so cute!”
He turned.
His heart skipped at the familiar face.
“Aunty Daa?”
The woman blinked.
Then her eyes widened, filling with recognition, warmth. Almost motherly.
“…Nunew?”
Twenty years dissolved in a heartbeat.
Aunty Daa walked closer, her hand pressed over her chest.
“You… you grew up so beautifully. I almost didn’t recognise you. But you're cute as ever!”
He laughed softly, shyly. “I thought you looked familiar too. It’s been so long.”
“Come stop by. Your uncle will be so happy to see you again.”
“Oh—I don’t want to disturb—”
“You are family. Come.”
Her voice, gentle yet firm, made something in his chest ache.
He, and July followed her to the large home across the road.
He hadn’t even realized that the family who once protected him as a child lived so close now.
Inside, the old man hugged him warmly, gently, like one hugs someone fragile.
“Look at you! Last time I saw you, you were a tiny six-year-old crying because you lost your toy truck!”
The daughters, Nicha and Nittha, burst into laughter.
“Mae once told us about the toy story,” Nicha added. “You were so cute.”
Nunew covered his face, cheeks warming. “Please don’t remind me…”
They talked.
About the old town. Kindergarten. The neighborhood kids. Childhood mischiefs he barely remembered.
Warmth filled the room. Real warmth.
Something he hadn’t felt in years.
When they mentioned Zee, his heart paused.
Zee Pruk Panich.
His childhood protector.
The boy who shielded him from neighborhood bullies, shared snacks with him, walked him home.
The boy who once held his small hand and said, “Hia will protect you. Always.”
But twenty years was a long time. They haven’t been know each other’s life since Zee moved.
“Zee is now the Director of his own company,” Aunty Daa said. “Oil and gas. More successful than his father, that naughty brat.”
Nicha added, “He’s opening multiple branches soon. Petrol station near the 7 Eleven around the corner and hotels in the town."
“That’s… very impressive of him.” Nunew smiled politely.
“We should meet and gather your parents next time,” Nittha suggested.
“Oh—they live far. I wish I lived with them but… I stay with my husband.”
The sisters froze.
“You’re married?” they asked, voices soft.
“Yes. Three years already.”
“That explains the ring!” Nittha pointed cheerfully. “Almost forgot that you are an adult already.”
Nunew smiled, small and gentle.
The front door clicked.
Everyone turned.
A tall man entered. Sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, hair messy in a way that still looked professional. His presence filled the room instantly.
“Oh, son, you’re back,” Aunty Daa said.
“Yeah… Are we having guests?” Zee asked.
Then he saw the soft-faced man by the sofa.
His breath stopped.
“Nhu?”
“Hi.” Nunew smiled shyly. “It’s me.”
Zee crossed the room in three quick steps and pulled him into a tight hug. Lifting him slightly off the floor.
Warm. Solid. Familiar.
Nunew froze. So does the whole family. Zee never being this intimate with anyone for the past 20 years.
The younger boy halt. No one had hugged him like that in years.
His body didn’t know how to react. His mind didn’t know where to place the sensation.
“Zee!” Nicha scolded, rushing over. “Boundaries! He’s married!”
Zee blinked, stepping back immediately.
“Oh. Sorry. I just—It’s been so long.”
“It’s okay,” Nunew said softly, clutching July closer like a shield.
“How long have you been married?” Zee asked, softer now.
“Three years.”
“I see… Congratulations.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Nunew looked down, gently rubbing July’s fur. “Thank you, Hia.”
Then he saw it trough the glass window.
His house gate opening.
A black Range Rover gliding in.
His blood ran cold.
“Um...I… I think my husband is home.”
He swallowed hard. “I should go now. Aunty, Uncle, Phi Nicha, Phi Nittha, Hia. Thank you and welcome to the neighbourhood. I will tell my parents about this.”
“I’ll walk you home,” Zee offered immediately.
Too fast, Nunew panicked.
“No!”
Everyone stared.
He laughed nervously. “I mean—it’s okay. The house is right there. Just a few steps. Really.”
The sisters exchanged a look.
Weird, but they just brush it off.
But not Zee.
“Alright, dear,” Aunty Daa said gently.
They watched him walk across the street.
They watched his steps shrink.
They watched how his shoulders tensed.
They watched how he glanced repeatedly at his house like someone approaching a cage.
Something was wrong, Zee feels.
Deeply wrong.
He just didn’t know what yet.
Nunew slipped in quietly.
Set July on the floor and unclip the harness.
Hurried upstairs.
The sound of the shower running made him release a shaking breath of relief.
He went to the kitchen and began chopping vegetables. His safe habit.
Something quick. Something Thai. Something Man liked.
His hands trembled. His shoulder ached.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
Familiar.
Every step made his heartbeat jump in painful spikes.
Man walked in, a pair of black pants, a simple short sleeve t-shirt and the older man sat at the marble island.
He stared.
A stare that felt like pressure.
“Where did you go?” His voice calm. Too calm.
Nunew carefully put down the knife.
“I went to the neighbor’s house. They just moved in. They were my childhood neighbor’s. We met at the park. I—I didn’t know they lived across.”
“You talked for a long time.” Man tapped the marble counter with one finger.
Slow. Sharp.
Impatient.
“And you cooked an hour late than usual.”
“I—I lost track of time. I’m sorry.”
Man stood.
Walked closer.
Too close.
Until Nunew could smell the scent of their body wash. Sharp cedar and bergamot.
He twirled a strand of Nunew’s hair. “And you didn’t answer my calls.”
“I—I left my phone upstairs. I forgot to bring it. I’m sorry, P’Man.”
His grip tightened suddenly.
He yanked Nunew’s hair backward.
The smaller man winced, a soft sharp sound escaping him.
“I forgot it—I’m sorry—I promise I won’t repeat—”
“You know I hate waiting like an idiot.” Man’s voice dropped lower, colder.
“I do—I really do—”
Man shove-pulled his head forward.
Once.
"Excuse."
Twice.
"Excuse."
Again.
"And excuse."
Each jerk snapping pain down his neck.
The last one slammed his shoulder into the refrigerator.
A thud.
Pain shot up his arm.
Tears welled, but he swallowed them down.
He had learned never to cry too loudly.
Man clicked his tongue and released him, walking to the sink to wash his hands, as if touching him had dirtied them.
“I’m not in the mood to eat your food. Order Chinese.”
“I understand.”
Man left without a second glance.
The door closed.
Nunew let out a breath.
Shaky, broken.
His shoulder throbbed.
His scalp stung.
His throat felt tight.
He looked at the chopped vegetables. Trembling, blurry. He wiped the fresh dropped tears.
Then quietly, mechanically, he swept them into the trash.
He cleaned the counter as if cleaning away the evidence of his fear.
Then, slow, painful steps, Nunew went upstairs to get his phone.
July meowed softly, rubbing against his leg.
As if the cat understood.
Nunew knelt down, voice breaking for the first time that day.
“It’s okay, Nong… I’m fine… I promise.”
He wasn’t.
Not anymore.
Not for a long time.