Archive of Our Own

July 2025

“This year… it’s our third and our last.”

The elder’s voice coming from the driver’s seat was low and measured, carefully controlled in a way that made it obvious how much strength it took to keep it from breaking. Each word was chosen and weighed as though saying them too quickly might make the ending arrive sooner.

He knew exactly what this moment meant, perhaps longer than he ever admitted. His fingers fidgeted restlessly with the ring on his left hand, turning it over and over, the metal faintly catching what little light remained. It was an unconscious motion, something his hands had memorized long ago, as if the repetition alone could stall time and could somehow keep everything from slipping away.

“As I promised you,” he went on, his throat tightening before he forced the words out, “I’ll set you free.” He exhaled shakily, eyes fixed ahead, refusing to look just yet. “You don’t belong to anyone anymore. There’s nothing tying you down… not to me, not to this.”

His hand stilled briefly before he added, quieter this time, “Keep the rings if you want. Or don’t. Forget about them, sell them, throw them away… just whatever makes it easier for you to move on.”

Silence stretched between them, it was heavy and suffocating at the same time. Then, with a breath that wavered despite his effort to steady it, he slipped the ring off his finger. The absence of it felt like something essential had just been pulled away.

He reached out slowly and placed it into the younger man’s open palm. The gesture carried a strange kind of reverence, as though this simple act held the weight of everything they had been. His fingers lingered just a moment longer than necessary, brushing against the other’s skin, reluctant to let go. Like if he withdrew too quickly, the final thread between them would snap all at once.

They were parked on the hill they had returned to time and time again, but tonight it felt unfamiliar, like a place that no longer belonged to them. The wind outside was sharp, biting through the stillness, seeping into the car as if it, too, wanted to be part of this ending.

The sky above was empty, no stars, not even a moonlight, it was only a thick suffocating darkness. It felt almost cruel like even the heavens had turned away, unwilling to witness what was about to unfold.

“Thank you… I will.”

The younger’s voice broke the silence, but it was quieter than usual, stripped of its usual warmth. He didn’t look at the elder, his gaze fixed somewhere far ahead, unfocused, as if looking at anything real might undo him.

After a pause, he added, “Take care of yourself… and fly safely.” The words came out strained, pushed past the tightness in his chest, each one heavier than the last.

“Happy birthday… in advance.” This time, the elder couldn’t hide it as well. His voice roughened, the cracks slipping through despite his effort to hold them back. “I just… I hope this is enough,” he murmured. “I hope it gives you a chance to start again, to build something better…free. More you.”

Inside, he could feel himself fracturing, piece by piece, but he held it together with sheer will. Breaking down now would only make this harder for both of them.

”Stay safe, First.”

The name lingered softly in the air. And despite the darkness swallowing everything outside, he turned at last, eyes tracing over the younger’s face as if trying to carve every detail into memory, the curve of his features, the quiet strength in his expression, even the silence he hid behind.

“For the last time… thank you, P’Tle.” The younger forced the words out, each syllable catching painfully in his throat. He knew better than to say more, he knew that if he allowed himself even one more sentence, everything he was holding back would spill out.

So before the elder could respond, before the moment could stretch any further and trap them both in it, he reached for the door and pushed it open.

Cold air rushed in immediately as he stepped out. The door closed behind him with a soft but final sound.

For a moment, he just stood there completely unmoving. It felt as if something inside him had been left behind in that passenger seat, something he couldn’t take with him no matter how tightly he held on.

His fingers curled instinctively around the rings in his palm, gripping them so tightly it almost hurt. It was a silent plea, it was an unspoken wish for a voice to call him back, for footsteps to follow, to stop him from walking away.

But nothing came.

The night remained still. The wind whispered past him.

And so, with a breath that felt heavier than it should, he turned and walked forward, away from the car, away from the hill, away from everything they had been, carrying with him the unbearable weight of all the words they never said, and all the feelings they chose to leave behind.

August 2029

This may come as a surprise. It isn’t the gift I was hoping for, not the one I had been quietly wishing for but despite everything, I’m still grateful.

“Firstfirst? First, are you awake?”

A small, insistent voice whispered near his ear, followed by a hesitant pause before it brightened. “It’s your birthday, Dada First.”

Firstone felt tiny fingers poking at his cheek, the familiar weight of a small body carefully climbing onto his chest. He stayed perfectly still, feigning sleep, though his arms twitched with the urge to move. Quietly, he lifted them just enough to trap the toddler against him, pulling her into a sudden, snug embrace.

“I’ve got you.”

Firstone opened his eyes at the same time he tightened his hold, successfully catching his daughter off guard. Rainy shrieked in delighted surprise, her laughter ringing out and filling every corner of the bedroom as he tickled her sides. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured between laughs, pressing a gentle kiss to her warm, soft cheek.

When the giggles finally subsided, Rainy curled closer, still clinging to him. “First not going to work today?” she asked breathlessly, her voice hopeful.

Firstone hummed in response, brushing a hand through her hair as he slowly sat up. The day had already begun, and there was much to do, lingering in bed would only make them late.

“Today’s a special day,” he said softly. “We’re going out, Baby Rainy. We’re going to celebrate First’s birthday together.”

He set her gently back onto the bed, tucking her favorite plush, Sandy, into her arms as a temporary stand-in for him. Stretching like a cat roused from a deep sleep, he rolled his shoulders and shook off the last traces of drowsiness.

Rainy nodded eagerly, eyes wide and bright as she watched him straighten the comforter. The moment she sensed it was time to move, her hands reached out toward him, fingers opening and closing in silent demand. Firstone laughed under his breath, scooping her up without hesitation.

They made their way from the bedroom to the kitchen, Rainy perched comfortably in his arms. Preparing his own breakfast was second nature by now but her puree was another story entirely, one that demanded far more patience than he ever expected.

“So she called you dada?” Keng’s amused voice echoed from the phone’s speaker, filling the kitchen while Firstone stood at the counter, fully focused on preparing his daughter’s breakfast.

“It’s not exactly new,” Firstone replied, his tone light as he leaned closer to Rainy. “She just doesn’t say it very often.” He cooed softly at her, earning a quiet smile in return. Rainy sat patiently in her high chair, gently pressing kisses to Sandy’s worn fabric before glancing up at him, smiling as if she somehow knew she was being talked about.

“Oh? And when does she decide to use it?” Firstone could hear sheets shifting on the other end of the call, a familiar sound that told him Keng was only just waking up. The question made him pause, his hand stilling as he thought back on the rare moments Rainy had chosen that word.

“On my birthday… I think,” he said after a moment, uncertainty lacing his voice.

“Well, that explains it then.” Keng chuckled softly before his tone shifted. “Happy birthday, baby. We’ll come by as soon as we’re able.” Firstone laughed under his breath. No matter how much time passed, or how old he got, he would always be his half-brother’s youngest, endearments and all. It didn’t matter that Keng had a son close to Rainy’s age; that dynamic never changed.

“Thanks, P’Keng,” he said, returning to stirring the puree as Rainy began to wiggle. “But for the record, I’m not a baby anymore.” He glanced at his daughter, already sensing the signs of impatience. “You don’t have to rush over today. I know how busy you are and Namping and I already have plans.”

“Alright,” Keng replied with a tired sigh. “Just let me know when you get to Grandfather’s place safely.” His voice faded slightly as another sound bled into the call Namping stirring awake beside him.

“Happy birthday, Paew,” Namping greeted, his voice thick with sleep. “Send me a message once you’re back at your condo.”

Firstone laughed quietly at his yawn. “Thank you, Poong. I will.” He poured the puree into a bowl, setting it down just as Rainy’s lower lip began to tremble. “I have to go. Rainy’s about to cry. Give Ohae a goodbye kiss for me.” The call ended with warmth lingering in the kitchen, even as the day hurried them along. 

If making breakfast had been difficult, then bath time was pure chaos. Firstone let out a long, weary sigh as he surveyed the aftermath of Rainy’s bath. Water splashed across the floor, droplets clinging to the mirror, and towels strewn about like they had lost a small battle. 

Rainy loved baths far too much; separating her from the tub always felt like negotiating a ceasefire. And judging by the way his clothes clung uncomfortably to him, he hadn’t escaped the ordeal unscathed either, he was soaked from head to toe, just as wet as his daughter had been.

He glanced down at himself, then back at Rainy, and shook his head in quiet disbelief before turning toward the bedroom.

“Stay here for a moment, okay?” he said gently, crouching in front of her. “First needs to wash up too. Be good while I’m gone.”

Rainy sat on the bed, already dressed neatly from head to toe, utterly content. An educational show played on the television, holding her full attention as she sucked on her milk bottle and hugged her favorite plush tightly against her chest. Without taking her eyes off the screen, she nodded obediently, then promptly returned all her focus to the colorful shapes and cheerful voices.

Firstone straightened, watching her for a second longer than necessary, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He shook his head fondly as he turned away. He’d deal with tying her hair later; that was another small challenge waiting for him, one he’d face when the time came.

The drive to his grandfather’s place felt far shorter than Firstone remembered. The road, once long and punishing, passed beneath the tires almost unnoticed. Perhaps longing had dulled his awareness; perhaps missing his grandfather had filled his mind so completely that the bumps and dust no longer mattered. 

When he arrived, he stepped out of the car and stretched, his body stiff from the ride but his chest tighter with anticipation. He moved to the back seat, carefully unfastening his daughter from her car seat and lifting her into his arms.

He smiled softly at her. “There’s someone very important I want you to meet,” he said gently. Setting her down on the ground, he reached back into the car and picked up the small basket of flowers resting beside her seat. He lowered himself to one knee so they were eye to eye and placed the basket into her hands, light enough for her small fingers to manage.

Rainy looked up at him, her grip tightening around the handle. “Is it… Papa?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, the quietest he had ever heard from her since she learned how to speak. The word struck him harder than he expected. Cold crept into his chest, and for a moment, he could not bring himself to answer. He let the silence linger, swallowing thickly before clearing his throat, steadying himself for what came next.

“No, my love,” he said softly after a pause. “But this person means just as much.” Firstone straightened, steadying himself, refusing to let a child’s innocent question unravel the calm he was trying so hard to hold together. He reached for Rainy’s small hand, her fingers curling trustingly around his, and guided her forward toward the resting place of his grandfather.

He stopped before the grave and knelt again, his movements slow and reverent. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “this is your Daddyphor.” Carefully, he laid the bouquet of flowers down before the tombstone. Rainy mirrored him, crouching with concentration as she set her own little basket beside her father’s offering.

“Go on,” Firstone encouraged gently. “You can say hello.”

Rainy pressed her palms together and gave a small wai, imitating what she had been taught. Her eyes lingered on the stone, curiosity flickering across her face as she greeted the great-grandfather she could not truly understand, but sensed was important.

Firstone smiled, a warmth touched with sadness, and rested his hand on her head, patting it affectionately. “You know,” he said quietly, “your Daddyphor is your guardian angel now. He watches over you from above.” His gaze drifted between his daughter and the grave, the past and the present standing side by side, as if for a moment they were connected by more than memory.

“Like Papa?” Rainy asked, tilting her head. The question made Firstone flinch. He remembered telling her once that her other father watched over her from the sky, never quite explaining that her papa was a pilot, not an angel. Now, faced with her earnest confusion, he searched for words simple enough for a toddler to grasp.

“Well… I suppose you could think of it that way,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting despite himself. A soft laugh escaped him, quickly disguised as a cough when he noticed Rainy studying him closely.

He knelt again so they were at the same level. “Your Daddyphor is your guardian angel,” he explained gently, “and he’s also First’s grandfather, a very special kind of hero.” The word hero immediately worked its magic.

“Really?” Rainy gasped, bouncing slightly on her feet. “What can he do?” Her eyes sparkled with excitement, her earlier curiosity turning into delight.

Firstone swallowed and brushed the heaviness from his chest. He didn’t want this visit, his first of many, to be clouded by sorrow. “He keeps First from being afraid,” he said softly.

Rainy leaned in, clearly fascinated. “Is he strong?”

Firstone lifted his gaze toward the sky for a moment, as if weighing his answer against memory and faith. Then he smiled, warm and certain. “Yes,” he said. “He’s very strong. And First loves him very much.”

His voice lowered, almost a whisper meant only for the wind. “He’s everything to me. A hero, a savior, someone I could trust with my heart, and my grandfather. I want to believe you raised me well, Khun Phor. And I promise I’ll raise my daughter the way you raised me, surrounded by nothing but love.”

The last day of July had been a long one for Tle, long in the way only travel days were, when time stretched and folded in on itself, when crossing the country left him feeling unmoored rather than accomplished. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused rest, still humming with the dull ache of distance and unsaid things.

He moved slowly toward the bed positioned before the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city beyond them glowing softly in the dark. Fresh out of the shower, steam clung to his skin reluctant to let him go, curling around him like a fleeting comfort. 

Five years ago, he would have stood here brimming with warmth, counting down the hours with quiet excitement, already rehearsing birthday wishes meant for the person he loved most. Back then, this time of year felt full, anticipatory, and most importantly alive.

Now, the room felt cavernous. This year was no different from the three that came before it empty, muted, heavy with a loneliness he had grown accustomed to but never quite accepted. The memories came uninvited, soft but insistent, and he lingered in them longer than he should have.

A faint glow pulled him from his reverie. His phone lit up on the nightstand, cutting through the dimness just as the clock slipped into midnight.

His birthday, the reminder read.

First day of August..

Tle let out a quiet breath and smiled, the expression tinged with bitterness rather than joy. This was the fourth year in a row he had forgotten to delete the reminder and perhaps some part of him never truly wanted to.

His phone rang shortly after he finished getting dressed for the night. Tle paused, then moved to sit in front of the vanity, the soft hum of the room filling the silence. He answered the call while running a towel through his damp hair, eyes locked on his reflection as if grounding himself there. Without much emotion, he greeted the caller, his tone casual and distracted.

“Yeah, what is it?” he said, gaze never leaving the mirror.

“Where are you right now?” Net’s voice came through hurriedly, his words tumbling out with barely any pause.

Tle exhaled slowly, already aware of how this was going to unfold. “What do you need, Phi?” he replied, fatigue lacing his voice. He knew his cousin far too well. Net was fully aware he was being irritating, and that knowledge only fueled his enjoyment.

“What’s with that attitude? I’m just asking where you are. You’re being rude, you know, Nong,” Net shot back, his voice light and teasing.

Tle clicked his tongue, irritation bubbling beneath the surface as the playful lilt in Net’s tone reached him loud and clear. “I’m in Switzerland. Now get to the point, what do you want?” he said firmly, stressing the question. Then he added pointedly, “It’s barely six in the morning in Thailand, Phi,” making it obvious that Net was pushing his luck this early.

“Oho, Switzerland, huh?” Net drawled, clearly amused. “Relax. I’m only calling to remind you about Latte’s engagement celebration this coming Friday. And before you start making excuses, no, you’re not allowed to skip it. You have to be there. I already checked your schedule, and you don’t have any international or local flights booked.”

After a generous amount of teasing, Net finally laid out the real reason for the call, sounding far too pleased with himself for having cornered Tle so thoroughly.

Tle’s brows drew together at the revelation; not because of Latte’s engagement, but because Net had somehow managed to get his hands on his schedule again. The ease of it unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He made a mental note to have a serious talk with Jj one of these days. His co-pilot was far too accommodating, especially when it came to indulging his cousin’s antics.

“You should really stop bothering Jj, Phi,” Tle said firmly, a hint of warning in his voice. Despite his annoyance, there was genuine concern there, he didn’t like the idea of his nong being dragged into Net’s schemes.

“I am absolutely not bothering him,” Net shot back with a dramatic huff, sounding genuinely offended. “I’m courting him. That’s completely different.” He paused, as if waiting for the distinction to be acknowledged. Even from halfway across the world, Tle could practically hear the pout forming in Net’s voice, the exaggerated hurt clearly meant to provoke a reaction.

“Right,” Tle responded flatly, his lack of interest obvious.

Net clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You’re unbelievable. With that attitude, I seriously hope your future kids don’t inherit your rudeness,” he complained, though the words were softened by the familiar teasing laced through his voice.

Tle knows it will never happen, not when the person he once imagined building a family with had already walked out of his life four years ago, taking that future with them.

Firstone could already feel an impending headache creeping in, the dull pressure promising to worsen at any moment. He and Rainy had just returned to their unit after celebrating his birthday with his grandfather, the pleasant mood still lingering faintly in his chest. Namping and Ohae had arrived less than an hour ago, yet that brief window of time was all it took for disorder to break loose, the children were already fighting.

“No! I.. I don’t want to play with you anymore!” Rainy shrieked at the top of her lungs, her voice sharp and unyielding. The outburst made her cousin’s lips quiver, the boy’s face scrunching as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. It was painfully clear that his poor nephew was on the verge of tears.

Just who did she get that attitude from?

Firstone shut his eyes and rubbed at his temples, silently bracing himself. He abandoned his kitchen chores and moved into the living room, dropping down between the children in front of the television like a tired peacekeeper. Rainy sat on the floor, clutching Sandy close as she stacked her blocks with stiff movements, her head bowed and her mouth pulled into a stubborn pout. 

Nearby, Ohae looked up at Firstone and reached out with small, grabby hands, doing his best not to cry as his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“What’s happening here?” Firstone asked gently as he scooped his nephew up and settled him onto his lap, sinking into the couch. He wrapped an arm around the toddler, rubbing small, soothing circles on his back as he tried his best to comfort him.

“She won’t play with me anymore,” the four-year-old sniffled in complaint, his lower lip wobbling as tears pooled in his eyes, threatening to spill over at any second.

“Rainy, come over here,” Firstone called out, extending a hand toward his daughter. Instead of responding, she swatted his hand away, the sudden rejection making him flinch in surprise.

“Rainy!” His voice rose instinctively, firm now as he reprimanded her. “That’s not okay. What did I tell you about behaving like that?” he continued. He hated raising his voice at his own daughter, it went against everything he believed in but he would much rather sound stern than ever resort to violence just to teach her a lesson. 

Rainy was still young, still learning, and it was his responsibility to guide her patiently, to help her understand the difference between what was right and what was wrong. 

Rainy suddenly broke down at the sound of Firstone’s stern tone, her small shoulders shaking as she burst into tears. Seeing her cry only made things worse. Ohae began sobbing too, convinced that he had gotten his cousin into trouble and that the fight was somehow his fault.

“Rainy is sorry, Firstfirst,” Rainy cried between hiccups, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry too, Phi Ohae. I didn’t mean it… but please don’t say Sandy is ugly.” She stumbled toward Firstone, still crying, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as if afraid he might pull away.

Ohae quickly hugged his younger cousin back, his own tears spilling over as the two clung to each other. They cried softly against one another, murmuring apologies as the tension between them finally dissolved.

Firstone’s gaze drifted to the plush toy left forgotten on the floor, its once-soft fabric now visibly dirty. That was when it clicked. Lately, he had been stretched thin, covering extra shifts for his co-workers and coming home exhausted more often than not. He hadn’t even realized how long it had been since he last washed Rainy’s plushies, and the thought tugged at him with quiet guilt.

That was the scene Namping and Keng walked in on, three figures huddled together on the couch. The children’s faces were blotchy and damp with tears, their noses red as they sniffled and tried to steady their breathing. 

Firstone sat in the middle, staring off into space, his arms wrapped protectively around his daughter and nephew, holding them close as the room slowly settled back into silence.

“What happened here?” Keng asked as his brows knit together, his voice raised just enough to snap Firstone out of his distant thoughts. Nearby, Namping only laughed softly, setting the grocery bags down on the kitchen island with a practiced ease.

Earlier, Namping had gone down to the basement parking lot to meet Keng, who had arrived later than planned after his meetings ran long and a quick stop at the grocery store became unavoidable. By the time they came up together, the apartment felt far quieter than expected, heavy with the aftermath of tears.

“Oh, P’Keng,” Firstone said as he finally looked up, only then registering his brother’s presence. He glanced down at the children curled against him and gently patted their heads in reassurance. “It’s okay now. They’ve already talked it out and made up,” he added calmly.

“Less than half an hour after I stepped out, and they already managed to fight?” Namping said with a sigh as he knelt in front of them, concern lacing his voice. He guided the sippy cups toward the kids, coaxing them to take a few drinks to calm themselves down.

Dinner faded into memory almost too easily. One minute they were clearing plates, the next Firstone found himself on his second glass of white wine, the cool rim familiar against his fingers as he sat out on the balcony. 

Keng and Namping were tucked close beside him, limbs tangled, their shared warmth a gentle contrast to the chill of the night. Inside, the apartment was finally still the kids fast asleep, curled up in their makeshift blanket fortress on the couch, breathing softly like the world hadn’t yet taught them how to ache.

“So… she asked about her father again?” Namping said quietly, more a confirmation than a question. His voice carried care, not judgment.

Firstone nodded faintly. “Not directly,” he replied. “But she’s brought him up twice now.” He rolled the stem of the glass between his fingers, watching the wine swirl lazily before lifting a hand to shove his hair back. 

The night air brushed against his face, sharp and grounding. He sank deeper into the bean bag and tilted his head back, eyes fixed on the dark, endless sky, as if the answers he needed might be written there.

“And you’re sure you still don’t want him to know?” Keng asked. He shifted closer, settling into the bean bag beside his brother, one arm automatically wrapping around Namping as his husband leaned into his chest.

Firstone remembered that day with painful clarity. Tle had signed the adoption papers so quickly it almost rendered all of Firstone’s rehearsed explanations useless. He’d barely managed to say it was for the divorce just paperwork, nothing more before Tle took the pen and put his name down without even glancing at the pages. No questions. No hesitation. In that moment, Firstone understood just how desperate Tle was to be done with him, how badly he wanted Firstone gone from his life that he couldn’t bear to look closely at what he was agreeing to.

The realization cut deeper than guilt ever could; it wasn’t just that Tle trusted him, it was that Tle wanted the separation so badly he didn’t care what he was signing, as long as it meant Firstone would finally be out of his sight.

Firstone let out a slow breath. “P’Keng,” he began, his voice tight but steady. “You know I adopted Rainy without telling him. Yes, he signed the papers but under the pretence of divorce documents.” The confession tasted bitter every time he said it. 

He lived with that choice, carried it like a bruise that never quite faded. It haunted him daily. And yet never once did he regret it. Rainy was proof of his love for Tle, something real he could hold onto when everything else had slipped through his fingers.

“But that’s exactly why it’s cruel, First,” Keng shot back, the frustration he’d been holding onto finally slipping through. Ever since he learned that Firstone had adopted Rainy just days after the divorce, he’d been waiting for this conversation. “I don’t hate that you adopted her. I hate that you’re choosing to raise her alone.” His voice wavered despite himself. “You’re being cruel. Not just to Rainy, but to P’Tle too.”

Namping immediately pressed a hand to Keng’s chest, a silent plea for him to slow down, to soften.

Firstone said nothing. His gaze dropped, the stars blurring as his eyes filled, his brother’s words settling heavy in his chest. They echoed in the quiet, pressing against wounds he’d tried so hard to keep closed.

“I honestly don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore, P’Keng,” Firstone admitted, his voice breaking as the words finally slipped out. “Rainy is the only thing I have left that still ties me to P’Tle. I can’t give her up.” He swallowed hard, chest tightening. “The moment I saw her at that shelter, something in me just… settled. I knew I wanted to be her father. Even if it meant doing it alone.” His composure crumbled then, tears spilling freely. 

Namping didn’t hesitate, he shifted closer and wrapped Firstone in a warm, grounding embrace, holding him as if to keep him from falling apart completely.

“But she’s growing every single day, First,” Keng said, his tone firm but laced with concern. “What are you going to tell her when she starts asking why her other father doesn’t even know she exists?”

The words struck their mark. Firstone flinched, his breath catching. He’d seen this future coming, felt it hovering at the edge of his thoughts but he had chosen to look away, to pretend it wasn’t inevitable.

“P’First is stable, Phi,” Namping interjected gently, trying to ease the tension before it could sharpen further. “He has everything he needs to raise Rainy well.” He glanced between the brothers. “There will come a time when she’s old enough to understand the situation they were in.” As he spoke, Namping placed his hand over Keng’s and gave it a light squeeze, a quiet reminder to slow down, to be mindful. Especially now, when Firstone was already so fragile, his birthday not yet behind him.

“Whether he’s stable or not doesn’t change the law,” Keng said firmly, his voice edged with restrained frustration. He straightened in his seat as if bracing himself, eyes fixed on the others to make sure his point landed. 

“P’Tle has the right to know. Legally, no one can deny him that. And more than that, he has every right to decide what’s best for Rainy. She’s his daughter.” The last sentence carried extra weight, his tone softening just slightly, as though the reminder of that bond mattered more than the legal argument itself.

A heavy silence followed. The air in the room felt tighter, harder to breathe. Namping pressed his lips into a thin line, his jaw flexing as he fought back his own thoughts. His fingers curled against his palms, nails biting into skin, a small physical distraction from the turmoil inside him. He understood what Keng was saying, there was truth in it, undeniable and sharp but that didn’t make the situation any easier.

He glanced briefly at Firstone, whose expression had grown increasingly strained. Namping’s chest tightened. He wanted to shield him from this, to buy him more time, to soften the blow of whatever would come next. Every word he chose now had to be careful, measured. He was trying to stand in the gap for Firstone, to offer what little protection he could without completely dismissing the reality Keng had just laid out.

“I’ll… I’ll talk to him, P’Keng,” Firstone said at last. The words sounded resolute, but the exhaustion in his voice betrayed him. He felt drained, like the fight had been slowly leaking out of his body. “One of these days.” He paused, then added softly, “Just… give me more time.” He didn’t want to push his brother further, didn’t want to ignite more anger.

“Are you sure, Phi?” Namping asked, turning to him with unmistakable worry in his eyes.

Firstone nodded faintly. “Just give me more time,” he repeated, as if saying it enough times might make it true. “I’ll find the right moment to talk to him.”

The right moment never seemed to arrive. Only days after his birthday, Rainy fell sick, and almost cruelly, his hospital shifts intensified at the same time. What little balance he once had between work and home life crumbled quickly. 

Nights blurred into mornings, and exhaustion became his constant companion as he tried to be both a dependable nurse and a devoted caregiver. Looking after Rainy demanded more than time, it took every ounce of his attention and resolve. 

Long ago, Firstone had sworn to himself that when Rainy was unwell, he would be the one by her side. The nanny was there only as support, stepping in occasionally when absolutely necessary, but the responsibility was his and his alone.

“Son.”

The gentle call pulled him out of a shallow, unintentional nap. He hadn’t even realized when his head had slumped forward, only that moments before he had been carefully watching to make sure Rainy swallowed her medicine. 

Startled, he pushed himself up from the table. That was when he noticed Rainy’s nanny standing nearby, her bag already slung over her shoulder, clearly ready to leave for the night.

“Oh! Auntie.”

Firstone straightened too quickly, the sudden movement making the nanny gasp as he wobbled slightly. Weeks of restless nights and skipped meals were finally taking their toll. He reached out to steady himself, blinking away the haze of fatigue. “You’re heading out already?” he added once he regained his balance, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I was just about to leave, but…” The nanny paused, her eyes scanning his pale face and unsteady posture. Concern softened her voice. “Are you feeling okay? I can stay a little longer if you need me.”

Her sympathy was evident, born from years of watching Firstone grow. She had been there since the days after his parents passed away, caring for him alongside his grandfather. He had always been a gentle child. Quiet, obedient, forever by his grandfather’s side, or trailing closely behind his P’Keng wherever he went. 

Time had reshaped him in ways she never imagined, and now here she was, helping him care for his own daughter. Having lived long enough to witness such a transformation filled her with a quiet, bittersweet pride.

“There’s no need, auntie. I really appreciate you coming.” Firstone offered her a tired smile and gave a small shake of his head, unwilling to impose any further. He walked her to the door, mindful of the message she had just received that her ride was almost there. 

A quick glance at his watch told him it was exactly ten in the evening, time to replace Rainy’s cooling gel. With that in mind, he bade the nanny goodbye, apologizing repeatedly for not escorting her downstairs. There was no one else to stay with Rainy, and he couldn’t risk leaving her alone, even for a moment.

Once the door closed behind her, Firstone let out a long, weary sigh as he returned to the quiet of their unit. The weight of mounting stress and relentless sleeplessness pressed heavily on him, and he was fairly certain he had started to run a fever himself. 

He couldn’t afford to collapse, not now. If he didn’t slow down soon, he’d end up confined to a bed beside Rainy. Moving carefully, he made his way to the kitchen, rummaged through his supply of medicine, and swallowed an antipyretic pill, hoping it would be enough to keep him on his feet.

After carefully replacing Rainy’s cooling gel, Firstone finally slipped beneath the covers beside her. The coolness against her skin seemed to work; her breathing evened out, and the heat that had plagued her all day gradually subsided. 

Only then did he allow himself to relax, a quiet sense of relief settling in his chest. He drew her gently closer, mindful of every small movement, and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head, inhaling the familiar warmth and scent that grounded him.

For now, the thought of speaking to Tle was pushed far to the back of his mind. There were more pressing matters at hand. He needed to be whole. Steady in both body and mind before facing that conversation.

Any sign of weakness could unravel everything he was holding together, and he couldn’t afford that, not now. Until he was certain he could stand firm, Rainy remained his sole priority, cradled safely in his arms as the night slowly wore on.

Besides, he wasn’t even certain that Tle would agree to meet him at all. So many years had passed since they last saw one another. Years filled with silence, distance, and unresolved emotions that even the idea of a conversation felt uncertain. Time had a way of changing people, and Firstone couldn’t help but wonder if he still had a place in Tle’s world, or if the chance to talk had long since slipped beyond his reach.

“Congratulations on your engagement.”

Tle lifted his wine glass in a polite toast, the soft clink of crystal ringing out as he touched rims with the couple standing before him. His expression was composed, though his eyes briefly lingered on the happiness shared between them, the kind that filled the room without effort.

Latte, his cousin, grinned from ear to ear, his hand resting securely at the small of his fiancée’s back. Kim leaned comfortably into his touch, his smile just as bright. “I’m really glad you could make it, P’Tle,” Latte said warmly. “I honestly thought you’d be stuck somewhere mid-flight and miss the whole thing.”

He let out a quiet laugh, the kind reserved for family, clearly pleased to see Tle after so long. It had been a while since their last meeting, with Tle constantly citing packed schedules and consecutive flights as excuses.

Before Tle could reply, Net slipped into the growing circle, already holding up his glass in greeting. “He didn’t really have a choice,” Net chimed in, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Grandfather has been on his case for three straight days until he finally gave in.”

Net leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough to sound conspiratorial. “He even said he’d ban him from flying altogether if he dared skip this,” he added, a smug smirk curving his lips.

Tle let out a short scoff, rubbing his tongue against his teeth and poked his cheek as he exhaled slowly. This evening was already shaping up to be longer than he’d anticipated.

“That’s not exactly how it went, P’Net,” Tle replied coolly, clicking his tongue as he slipped one hand into his pocket. “He didn’t threaten me.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in mock warning. “He simply said he wanted to see me here in person. Get your story right.”

To punctuate his words, Tle lightly nudged Net’s leg with his foot, more playful than hostile, earning himself the satisfaction of having the last word, at least for now.

Kim laughed softly as he watched the cousins trade playful remarks, their words edged with familiarity rather than malice. After years of being with Latte, he had come to understand that this was simply how they showed care by teasing, by pressing on each other’s nerves just enough to remind the other they were seen. It was especially true with Tle. 

Everyone in the family knew, even if they rarely spoke of it aloud, that the divorce had left its mark. Kim didn’t know the details; back then, he and Latte were only beginning to find their footing together. Still, he remembered clearly how Latte used to worry over his older cousin, how close Tle had come to losing himself before quietly pulling back from the edge.

While the trio’s attention drifted elsewhere, Kim took the opportunity to study Tle properly. He noticed how often Tle smiled now compared to the first time they’d met but the smile never quite reached his eyes. It felt rehearsed, carefully worn like a mask meant for public view. 

Kim realized, with a small tightening in his chest, that he couldn’t recall ever seeing Tle smile without restraint, without something guarded lingering beneath it. He wasn’t even sure he had ever seen Tle genuinely happy.

“Right, babe?”

Latte’s voice pulled Kim out of his thoughts. He blinked and turned back toward his fiancé, momentarily disoriented.

“Sorry, what was that?” Kim asked, offering Latte an apologetic smile as he tried to catch up.

“We were talking about your job,” Latte explained again easily. “About that coworker who covered your shift so you could be here. He seems pretty great, don’t you think?”

“Oh! Yes, absolutely,” Kim said, brightening as the thought returned to him. “If it weren’t for him stepping in, I wouldn’t have been able to be this involved with the preparations at all.” He let out a soft, amused laugh. “Which reminds me… I still haven’t figured out what to get him as a proper thank-you gift.”

“What about a bottle of wine?” Net suggested easily, lifting his glass as if the answer were obvious, the stem catching the light as he tilted it.

Kim shook his head, smiling at the simplicity of the idea. “I don’t think his daughter would approve,” he replied lightly. “He’s very disciplined about it, won’t drink unless there’s a special occasion, and never when she’s around.”

The memory surfaced clearly in Kim’s mind: the evening his coworker had invited him over for dinner as thanks for covering a shift. There had been a wine rack and glasses, immaculate, carefully arranged yet not a single bottle of wine or champagne in sight. His co-worker had simply said it was for his lover who loved wine. 

“Right, right, he’s the one with a kid,” Latte chimed in, brows knitting together as he tried to recall. “What was her name again? Ron… Rain…?”

He snapped his fingers faintly, clearly frustrated. He remembered seeing a photo once, Kim holding a small child, her arms wrapped trustingly around his neck.

“Rainy, love,” Kim corrected gently, laughing under his breath at Latte’s earnest struggle.

“Then why not get something that works for both of them?” Tle spoke up at last, his voice calm and thoughtful. The suggestion landed more solidly than Net’s had, practical and considerate in a way that made the others pause.

“And what exactly do you have in mind?” Latte asked, curiosity piqued as he leaned slightly forward, clearly willing to entertain Tle’s suggestion.

Tle responded with a casual shrug, the movement practiced and deceptively light. “I wouldn’t know,” he said, a faint chuckle slipping out afterward. “I don’t have a spouse, much less a child.” The admission left a subtle bitterness on his tongue, one he quickly masked with humor, letting the laugh soften the weight of the words before they could linger too long.

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow,” Kim interjected, sensing the moment was best left untouched. “No need to overthink it tonight.” He offered them a grateful smile. “But thank you for the ideas, Khun Net, Khun Tle.”

With that, Kim gently set the matter aside. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and so would work. He had already imposed on Firstone more than he liked, and the least he could do now was show up fully, without dragging tonight’s concerns into the morning.

“Hey.” Kim set a small paper bag down in front of Firstone the moment he arrived at the station. His own shift ran from two to ten, yet Firstone was still buried in another double, filling in for a coworker who’d had to rush home unexpectedly. The exhaustion in Firstone’s posture was obvious even before he looked up.

Firstone blinked, eyes flicking from the bag to Kim as the older man pulled out a chair and slid into the space beside him. “What’s that supposed to be, Phi?”

Kim’s lips curved into a soft smile as he folded his arms, clearly pleased with himself. “Peace offering,” he said lightly. “Cookies. For my girl.” Without waiting for a response, he reached for the nearest chart, skimming it before adding, more quietly, “And… Thanks for taking my shifts, First. I owe you.”

The simple gesture tugged a smile from Firstone. He grabbed the bag, pushing himself up to stash it in his backpack but the room tilted before he could take a step. His vision blurred, and his knees buckled as dizziness washed over him.

“Hey, hey!” Kim was on his feet instantly, concern sharp in his voice as Firstone stumbled back against the workstation table. He reached out on instinct, pressing a hand to Firstone’s forehead, then hissed under his breath. “Jesus, you’re burning up.”

Firstone didn’t answer right away.

“First,” Kim murmured, gentler now, giving his arm a careful pat when the younger man swayed again. Firstone groaned softly, lifting his head with effort until their eyes met.

“…What is it, P’Kim?” Firstone asked, his voice strained. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying and failing to ease the pounding in his head.

“Enough,” Kim said gently but firmly, already reaching for him. He pulled Firstone up from the chair before he could protest and steered him toward the staff quarters. “You’re done for now. Go lie down. I’ll take over your patients.”

Firstone let out a weak laugh, the sound more tired than amused. “I’m fine, Phi. Really.” Still, he didn’t resist as Kim guided him to the narrow bed, exhaustion weighing heavier than pride. He sank down, shoes half-kicked off, body finally surrendering.

They’d been like this from the start, partners in chaos, surviving their first years as Med-Surg nurses side by side. Kim had watched Firstone grow into the kind of nurse patients trusted without question. 

Firstone, in turn, had always been there when Kim needed backup, even missing Kim’s engagement party to cover his shift when no one else could. He’d promised to make it to the wedding instead, laughing it off like it was nothing.

That was before Rainy got sick.

Before the fevers, the sleepless nights, and the quiet panic of watching his daughter burn up in his arms. Somewhere between caring for his patients and caring for his child, Firstone had stopped caring for himself and now it showed, written plainly into the shadows under his eyes and the way his body seemed to fold in on itself.

“I’ll wake you when it’s time for rounds,” Kim said softly, pulling a blanket over him and tucking it around his shoulders with practiced ease.

Firstone barely had time to hum in acknowledgment before his head hit the pillow. Sleep took him instantly, deep and unforgiving, the kind that only comes when the body has nothing left to give. His phone, forgotten back at the station and set to silent, stayed where it was; unnoticed, as the world finally went quiet for him.

“Still so stubborn,” Kim murmured under his breath, shaking his head as a fond smile tugged at his lips. He looked at Firstone the way an older brother would, equal parts exasperation and affection. 

From the very beginning, the younger man’s easy warmth and unfailing kindness had made it impossible not to care. Friendship had come quickly, naturally, as if it had always been waiting for them.

Firstone and his daughter were their own kind of pair. Not strange, just different. Rainy called him by his first name instead of Dada, yet she’d been raised with a gentleness and respect that surprised people once they noticed. Kim had clocked it early: the way Firstone listened to her like she was a full person, the way Rainy looked at him with unshakable trust.

There were still things Kim didn’t know, though.

He’d never pressed about Firstone’s spouse. Every time the topic came close, Firstone would deflect, shift the conversation, joke it away, or suddenly find something urgent to do. That alone told Kim enough. So he let it be, content to learn what he could in the rare moments Firstone spoke of them on his own terms.

Kim turned back to the charts, flipping through pages and burying himself in paperwork, letting the quiet of the quarters settle. Behind him, Firstone slept deeply, finally at peace.

Firstone had no idea that his phone left behind at the station, tucked away and set to ‘do not disturb’ had been vibrating relentlessly minutes ago. The daycare was trying to reach him.

And for now, the silence held.

Tle hadn’t truly rested in years. For four long, relentless years, memories had gnawed at him like something feral, refusing to let go. So he drowned himself in work, signed up for every flight he could, stayed in the air longer than necessary, anywhere but still. Home had become a word he avoided. The last time he’d been there was when his husband was still his.

Instead, he always retreated to his condo under the excuse that it was closer to the airport. A practical choice, he told himself. A lie, if he was honest. The truth was uglier: he didn’t have the courage to step back into the house that had once been warm, once been theirs. And the reason had a name… Firstone.

When Tle finally crossed the threshold, the house was empty only in the physical sense. Emotionally, it was crowded, suffocating. Memories surged forward to greet him the moment he stepped inside. Firstone was everywhere.

The kitchen still echoed with mornings where Firstone rushed through making breakfast, sleeves of his inner shirt rolled up, hair messy, one eye always on the clock. Hospital shifts for him, early flights for Tle, two lives constantly in motion, intersecting just long enough to share a meal. 

The living room couch carried the ghost of nights where Firstone fell asleep waiting for him, stubbornly refusing to go to bed first. The separate bedrooms Tle had once agreed to, once thought reasonable, now felt like a mistake he could never take back. And the balcony, their quiet refuge, where difficult conversations happened under open skies, where business blurred into something personal.

No matter where Tle looked, Firstone followed.

They had been married for three years, though it had never begun as a love story. It was an obligation, one born from their grandfather’s final wish. Tle had agreed under a condition: he would be free to choose his career, his future, his path. 

Firstone had agreed for a simpler, more painful reason, he loved his grandfather too much to say no. They were barely adults, twenty-four and twenty-two, with little control over the decision and even less understanding of what it would cost them.

Back then, Tle had made a promise out loud, clear and firm: three years. By the third year, they would divorce. They would reclaim their freedom, untangle themselves from a marriage that was never meant to bind their dreams. It was supposed to be temporary. Strategic. Falling in love was never part of the plan.

And yet, loving Firstone happened without effort. It crept in quietly, settled deep, and stayed. Caring for him came as naturally as breathing. 

Those three years they spent together became the only time Tle could ever remember being truly happy. But happiness, like everything else, proved fragile. Temporary. An ending had always been waiting for them.

Tle could still see that night with painful clarity, the way Firstone stepped out of the car, the air heavy with things left unsaid. Not once did the younger man turn back. Tle had made another silent promise then: if Firstone hesitated, even for a second, he would reach out. He would beg. He would ask him to stay.

But there was no hesitation.

So Tle stayed where he was, tears blurring his vision, and let Firstone walk away. The absence hit him immediately, the unfamiliar lightness of his hand, the missing weight of the ring that had once been there. And in that moment, he understood far too late what he had lost.

Tle lingered longer than he meant to, letting himself sink into the past one final time. He told himself this would be the last, one last indulgence in memories of the person he had loved most in his lifetime. After this, he would stop clinging to what no longer belonged to him. 

The decision settled heavily in his chest, but it was firm. He would sell the house. It could no longer be called home, not without Firstone in it. Because the truth, no matter how much it hurt, was simple: the house was only ever a structure. Firstone had been the home. The refuge. The place where Tle had felt safe.

The sharp sound of something crashing snapped him out of his thoughts. The noise echoed through the empty space, abrupt and jarring, like the house itself protesting. It sounded like a frame falling from the wall.

Tle followed the sound, heart tightening before he even saw it. Their wedding photo lay face-up on the floor, glass miraculously unbroken, as if spared out of cruel mercy. 

He lowered himself beside it, knees hitting the floor without thought, and reached out. His fingers traced Firstone’s face through the glass, slow and reverent, as though touch alone might bridge the distance between past and present.

If he were given another chance, just one, he would never let him go. He would fight harder, love louder, do everything within his power to make Firstone stay. He would prove, over and over, that loving him was worth the risk, that there was beauty in choosing him, in choosing them.

But reality was unforgiving. Tle knew better than to hope now. That chance, if it had ever existed, was already far out of reach. All that remained was a quiet, wordless devotion. Loving Firstone from afar was the only thing left to him, and even that hurt more than he cared to admit.

He lifted the frame carefully and set it down on the sofa where he had been sitting moments earlier. He wouldn’t deal with it today. Another time, he told himself. He would come back to pack the things that still carried Firstone’s presence and hide them away in one of the unused rooms at his condo, tucked out of sight, but never truly forgotten.

As he reached his car and slipped the keys into the ignition, a sudden notification sounded from his phone. The sharp beep made him pause. He glanced at the screen, brows knitting together as he read the message, his breath catching, the weight of everything shifting in an instant.

Tle was not the type of person to pay attention to spam messages. Having received more than his fair share over the years, fake prizes, suspicious links, poorly written threats, he had grown accustomed to skimming and deleting without a second thought. But this message was different. This was the kind of spam he couldn’t quite ignore, the kind that lodged itself uncomfortably in his chest before logic had a chance to catch up.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Matimun Sreeboonrueang.

We are writing to inform you that your daughter, Rainy, has contained a fever and is currently inconsolable. We have attempted to contact Mr. Wannakorn; however, he is presently unavailable.

If you are able to come at this time, we would greatly appreciate your presence for Rainy’s comfort and well-being.

Thank you for your understanding.

Sincerely,
Build a Bright Future Daycare”

Wannakorn. Daughter? Tle read it once. Then again, slower this time, his thumb hovering uselessly over the screen. First of all–daughter? The word jumped out at him, loud and impossible to ignore. His heart gave a small, startled lurch. Spam messages were rarely this specific, rarely this careful with names, and never this painfully familiar. This message was definitely unlikely to be spam. And that realization unsettled him far more than if it had been.

His thoughts were scattered far from his body, yet somehow Tle managed to make it to the daycare without incident, a small miracle considering how little he remembered of the drive. His throat felt parched, his palms slick with sweat as he stood before the principal’s office door. He lifted a hand and knocked, the sound sharper than he intended, echoing his nerves.

A voice called him in. As soon as he stepped inside, his gaze instinctively swept the room, searching for a child who might resemble Firstone even in the slightest, a familiar curve of the cheek, a hint of his eyes. There was no child there. The absence made his chest tighten.

“Khun Matimun, correct?” the principal said warmly, rising from her seat and extending a hand.

Tle took it, his grip polite but tense. Before she could say more, he pulled out his license and held it up, a reflex born from habit and unease rather than instruction.

“I appreciate you coming on such short notice,” she said after a glance. “We attempted to reach your husband earlier, but he appeared to be tied up. Your daughter has been crying nonstop for most of the afternoon and only just managed to fall asleep. I had the nurse settle her into a bed at the clinic. If you’d like, I can have her homeroom teacher take you there right away.”

There was a gentleness to her voice that betrayed experience, she knew the weight sitting on his shoulders and had no intention of letting it linger. As if on cue, the homeroom teacher appeared at the door. 

Tle barely registered the principal’s words, especially the way she had referred to him in relation to Firstone. His mind snagged on it for only a second before he bowed in a quick wai, murmured his thanks, and followed the teacher out.

“She was running a fever earlier, but it’s gone down now,” the teacher explained as they walked. “It looks like a relapse. Khun Wannakorn mentioned she’d only just recovered recently.”

She offered him a small, reassuring smile, clearly trying to soothe the anxiety written all over his face.

“Yes,” Tle replied automatically, the word leaving his mouth before his brain could catch up. He didn’t actually know any of that. The hallway to the clinic was short, far too short to justify how unbearably long it felt. Each step stretched into something heavy and suspended, his heart beating louder with every second.

The clinic itself was modest, but clean and carefully arranged, clearly designed to tend to a handful of toddlers at once. The nurse looked up as they entered and gave a brief nod. Tle returned it absentmindedly while the teacher identified him as Rainy’s father.

Father.

The word hadn’t fully settled when the nurse reached for the curtain.

As it slid open, the breath was knocked clean out of his lungs.

Rainy lay asleep beneath a thin blanket, small and fragile in the bed. Even from a distance, he could hear the weight of her breathing slow, steady, but deeper than it should’ve been. 

Everything else faded away. The voices, the clinic, the faint hum of the lights all blurred into nothing as he moved closer, careful, reverent, as though any sudden motion might wake her or make her disappear.

Only when he stood beside her did he realize he’d been holding his breath.

Her face was peaceful now, lashes long enough to brush against her flushed cheeks. Her lips were parted slightly, pink and soft, as if she’d been mid-sigh when sleep finally claimed her. Her wavy hair had been gathered into a messy little bun, clearly done with the sole purpose of keeping it out of her face. It made her look achingly young.

Relief washed over him, so strong it made his chest ache but it didn’t come alone. Fear lingered beneath it. Confusion. Guilt. Love he hadn’t yet learned how to name properly.

Questions crowded his mind, piling on top of one another with no clear starting point. There were things he needed to understand, truths he needed to confirm, conversations he needed to have with Firstone. Standing there, watching Rainy sleep, he didn’t know where any of that would begin.

For now, all he could do was stay.

“Hello, princess.” Tle’s voice was barely above a whisper, soft enough that it dissolved into the quiet hum of the room. There was no response. He eased himself onto the chair beside her bed, the plastic creaking faintly under his weight. 

His hand trembled as he reached out, carefully brushing aside the loose strands of hair that had fallen across her face, as though afraid even that small touch might wake her.

A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding finally escaped him when he pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. Cool. Normal. No lingering heat. Relief washed through him, leaving his chest heavy in its wake as he closed his eyes for a moment, silently thanking whatever had been listening.

“Khun? I’ll go ahead first. The nurse can stay with you, or he can show you the way out.” The homeroom teacher’s voice came from behind him, gentle and cautious, as if wary of shattering the fragile calm that had settled over the room.

“I think we’ll wait for her… Dad.” Tle replied without looking away from Rainy. He glanced down at his watch, 3:40 in the afternoon. His instinct told him to take her home, wrap her in blankets, and make sure she slept through the night. But the thought of Firstone anchored him in place.

Legally, he knew he had the right to make that decision. Emotionally, he knew better. Crossing that line would only reopen wounds that had barely begun to scar over. And Tle was certain of one thing, Firstone would not take that lightly.

“P’Tle… am I right?” A soft voice cut through his thoughts as the curtain was gently drawn closed, shielding them from the rest of the ward. Tle looked up and met the nurse’s gaze, nodding in confirmation.

Before he could voice his curiosity, the nurse offered him a small wai in greeting. “My name is Gems,” he said with a polite smile. “I was P’First’s underclassman back in college.”

“Oh.”Understanding flickered across Tle’s face. He returned the wai without hesitation. “Pleased to meet you.” His tone was courteous, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction now that the familiarity made sense.

“P’First said he’d be here shortly.” Gems delivered the update calmly, but it was enough to send Tle’s heart into a faster rhythm. He nodded in acknowledgment, fingers curling lightly against his thigh.

“If you need anything else, I’ll be at the front desk,” Gems added, already turning to leave.

“Wait,” The word slipped out before Tle could stop himself. He hesitated, battling the familiar shyness that tightened his throat. “Could you… could you tell me more about Firstone and Rainy?”

Gems paused mid-step and turned back, a gentle, knowing smile softening his features. There was no surprise in his eyes, only understanding. He must have known. About the divorce. About the distance. About the unspoken questions Tle had been carrying alone.

“I’ve known P’First since my first year,” Gems began softly. “We’ve been close ever since. One day, completely offhandedly, he mentioned that he’d gotten married and that was the first time I even knew you existed. P’First has always been an intensely private person. He never really talked about his life, never offered details, so you can imagine how stunned I was.”

Gems paused, his gaze drifting for a moment as the memory settled in. “Then one day years later, when I asked if we could meet up and hang out like we used to, he just showed up with a child and he told me he was already divorced from you. It felt unreal. That was the day I met Rainy.”

As he spoke, Gems watched Rainy sleeping soundly, untouched by the low murmur of voices around them, her breathing slow and steady. He sat across from Tle, the weight of the past lingering between them, and reached out to pull the curtain aside just a little checking instinctively to see if anyone had arrived.

“P’First raised Rainy well,” Gems continued, his voice softening without him even realizing it. “She’s a kind, respectful little girl, the type who says thank you without being reminded, who listens more than she speaks. You can see P’First in her so clearly, not just in the way she looks, but in how she carries herself.”

Gems let out a quiet breath, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “When he found out I was working here as the school nurse, he didn’t hesitate. He enrolled Rainy in this daycare almost immediately. I think it gave him some peace of mind, knowing she’d be somewhere familiar, with someone he trusted watching over her.”

“Did he ever tell you the story of how he got Rainy?” Tle asked, the question slipping out more hesitantly than intended, as if he wasn’t certain he truly wanted to hear the answer.

Gems frowned slightly, thinking back. “I only know that she came into his life after the divorce. As for how he–”

He stopped mid-sentence when Rainy stirred, her small body shifting as she let out a soft, sleepy sound. Her lashes fluttered before her eyes slowly opened, still heavy with sleep, and Gems instinctively lowered his voice, the rest of his words dissolving into silence as he turned his full attention to her.

Rainy’s eyes lifted to Gems first, unfocused and still heavy with sleep, before slowly drifting toward him. The moment her gaze met Tle’s, it felt as though all the air had been knocked clean out of his lungs for the second time that day, his chest tightened so sharply he almost forgot how to breathe.

No one spoke. The silence stretched, fragile and sacred all at once, as if a single word might shatter the quiet or worse, unravel the emotions threatening to spill over. The room seemed to hold its breath with them.

Tle felt an overwhelming urge to reach out, to pull Rainy into his arms and hold her close. The sense of familiarity washed over him, deep and instinctive, even though they shared no memories, no proof beyond feeling. Blood or not, it didn’t matter. He knew it in a place deeper than logic. Rainy was his daughter.

The thought ached in his chest, tender and unbearable. More than anything, he wanted to hear her call him Papa.

Rainy slowly pushed herself upright, lifting her small body with all the careful effort a toddler could manage. Tle watched her closely, almost protectively, his attention fixed on every unsteady movement as though his presence alone could keep her from falling. 

Across from them, Gems remained silent, saying nothing, simply content to observe the quiet, unfolding moment between the two of them.

Rainy’s lower lip began to tremble, her face crumpling as confusion and sleepiness caught up to her. She lifted both of her arms toward Tle, a silent plea for comfort.

Before the tears could fully spill, Tle moved on pure instinct. He reached for her and lifted her into his arms without hesitation, pulling her close as soft cries turned into full, aching wails. Rainy’s sobs filled the room, raw and unrestrained, yet her small arms stayed wrapped tightly around Tle’s neck, clinging as if she belonged there.

Gems watched it all unfold, his chest tightening with surprise. Rainy had chosen comfort from someone who should have been a stranger to her but she held on as though she somehow knew, as though her heart recognized what words had yet to confirm. 

In that moment, Gems couldn’t help but wish P’First were there, just to see this to witness how unmistakable it was that Rainy had found her father.

“It’s okay now, princess. I’ve got you,” Tle whispered, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions tightening in his chest. His palm moved gently through her hair, slow and reassuring, as he held her close against him. 

Rainy’s cries had softened by then, reduced to small hiccups and quiet sniffles against his shoulder, but Tle remained fully alert every instinct tuned to her, unwilling to let his guard down.

“Rainy! Gems!”

The sudden call shattered the fragile calm. Before Tle could even react, the curtain was pulled all the way aside, light flooding in as a figure dropped to his knees beside him and carefully but urgently lifted Rainy from his arms.

Firstone.

“P’First,” Gems said breathlessly, surprise clear in his voice.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart… Firstfirst is so sorry,” Firstone murmured as he crushed Rainy to his chest. Tears spilled freely from his eyes, hot and uncontrollable, dampening her hair, yet his voice stayed soft and careful, measured in a way that betrayed just how shaken he truly was. 

He held her as though afraid she might vanish again, doing everything he could to keep his trembling from frightening her any more than she already was.

“Dada,” Rainy whimpered again, her small voice breaking as she sensed the tension in him, reacting to the way Firstone’s body shook despite his efforts to stay calm.

Firstone immediately tried to soothe her, rocking her gently in his arms and pressing repeated kisses to the crown of her head, murmuring soft reassurances even as panic crept into his own breathing.

Tle remained silent, the weight of the moment crashing over him all at once. First it had been Rainy, and now it was Firstone. The sight of both of them crying tore at something deep inside his chest. He couldn’t just sit there and watch the people he loved fall apart.

Without a word, Tle moved forward. Strong, steady hands guided Firstone up from where he had been kneeling and eased him into the chair Tle had been sitting on moments earlier, careful not to jostle Rainy in his arms.

“You’re burning up,” Tle said quietly, concern sharpening his voice as he knelt beside them.

Gems was already at Firstone’s side, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “He’s right, Phi,” Gems added quickly, worry written all over his face.

Gems quietly excused himself, mentioning that he would go look for some medicine for Firstone though in truth, he wanted nothing more than to give the two of them the space they clearly needed.

Firstone’s lips parted, as if words had slipped out before his thoughts could catch up. Only then did it truly register that Tle was there, right in front of him. 

The realization hit all at once, leaving him momentarily disoriented. His adrenaline was still running high from the panic that had driven him here the moment he received the message that Rainy had come down with a fever again. 

Kim had barely managed to talk him out of driving himself, insisting he wasn’t in any state to be behind the wheel, and had booked a Grab instead just to make sure he got to the daycare safely.

“P’Tle…” Firstone managed at last, the name falling from his lips in little more than a breath. He still held Rainy close, his arms instinctively tightening around her as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“We’ll talk later,” Tle said simply, his voice calm and steady as a firm, grounding hand remained on Firstone’s arm. “Right now, you both need rest. Let’s get you two home.”

Home.

It had been a long time since that word had carried any real warmth for Firstone. A long time since it had felt like more than just a place he returned to at the end of the day. Longer still since he had heard it spoken,  felt it embodied by the person who had once defined what home meant to him. Tle.

The drive to Firstone’s unit passed in near-total silence. The only words exchanged were the occasional directions murmured from the backseat, where Firstone sat so Rainy could continue resting undisturbed, a choice Tle had insisted on without room for argument. The steady hum of the engine filled the space between them, heavy with things unsaid.

The walk from the car was even quieter. Tle lifted Rainy into his arms with practiced ease, brushing off Firstone’s instinctive protest with a gentle reminder that he needed to conserve his strength. Rainy remained asleep, her small body warm and trusting against Tle’s chest.

Firstone entered the lift first, pressing the button to their floor before stepping aside, edging closer to the wall to give Tle more room. The doors slid shut, enclosing them in a small, suspended moment. The sight before him felt painfully familiar. 

Tle carried Rainy so naturally and so surely as if this had always been their rhythm. Rainy didn’t even stir when they shifted or when the lift jolted slightly, safe in the arms holding her.

Firstone swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He thought of all the things he would willingly give up just to burn this image into his memory forever. This… This was exactly how he had once imagined their future, back when the divorce papers were still unsigned and hope hadn’t yet slipped through their fingers.

“Just lay her there, Phi,” Firstone said softly, pointing toward the bed while drawing the curtains closed, letting the afternoon light dim into a gentle glow. Tle nodded and carefully lowered the sleeping Rainy onto the center of the bed, adjusting pillows around her tiny body to make sure she wouldn’t roll or fall. 

He paused for a moment to check her temperature, pressing his fingers lightly to her forehead for reassurance, her fever had finally broken. A quiet relief settled over him, though his eyes lingered on her serene, sleeping face.

Firstone turned to the closet to fetch fresh clothes for Rainy. He moved with the practiced ease of a parent who had done this countless times. Tle turned his head, giving them privacy as Firstone changed her, a silent acknowledgment of boundaries, both for the child and her father. I’m still an outsider here, he reminded himself, though the ache of wanting to be closer tugged at his chest.

“I’ll be outside,” Tle said finally, his voice low, and he stepped quietly out of the room. He took a slow walk around Firstone’s condo, taking in the space with careful attention. 

The place reflected him completely: neat, orderly, and calm, with a soft white-and-beige color scheme that made the space feel warm and welcoming. Photographs of Firstone and Rainy dotted the walls, small moments frozen in time, a smile here, a hug there.

The condo itself was spacious and thoughtfully arranged: two bedrooms, two bathrooms, one en suite in the master, the other near the kitchen. From the dining area, the open-plan living room stretched out invitingly, bright and uncluttered. 

Everything seemed carefully considered, even baby-proofed, a silent testament to how much care Firstone had poured into this life for Rainy. Tle couldn’t help but feel a pang, both admiration and longing, as he walked through the home that so clearly reflected the bond between father and daughter.

The wine rack and the neatly arranged glasses near the kitchen drew Tle’s attention. Though the rack was mostly empty, it seemed deliberately preserved, as if waiting for moments worth celebrating. For a brief second, his mind wandered back to a memory, him telling Firstone how he had always fancied having a small bar area in their old house, only to realize there was never enough space. 

The thought brought a quiet painful pang of nostalgia, but Tle quickly shrugged it off, forcing himself back into the present.

Standing there, he felt like a sore thumb, conspicuously out of place. His white t-shirt, leather jacket, and jeans felt ill-suited to the soft, homey environment around him, yet he remained rooted in the living room, unwilling to move just yet. His eyes roamed casually, but then they landed on a small frame by the lamp on the side table. Something about it made his chest tighten.

It was a photograph, a silhouette of a man standing with his back to the camera, his side profile faintly visible. The setting was unmistakable: the cliff they used to visit, the city lights twinkling in the distance, carrying memories only they shared. Tle’s heartbeat quickened painfully both a mix of surprise and longing washing over him.

It was him. That man. The memory came rushing back unbidden. Firstone had shown him this very photograph on their first anniversary, pointing out the place where the world seemed to disappear when they were together, where time belonged only to them. Tle’s throat tightened, and for the first time since entering the condo, he allowed himself to pause and feel the echoes of the past so close, yet impossibly distant.

“P’Tle…”

Firstone approached slowly from behind, his steps careful and hesitant, not wanting to startle Tle. Tle turned toward him and accepted the glass of water he offered, fingers brushing slightly in a quiet, unspoken acknowledgment. Firstone sank onto the sofa, and after a brief pause, Tle followed, sitting beside him with a weight that went beyond the physical.

“I left the bedroom doors open,” Firstone said gently, his eyes flicking toward the bedroom as Tle’s gaze wandered that way. “Rainy knows how to get off the bed on her own. She knows I’m somewhere nearby.” The reassurance was soft but firm, meant to ease the tension Tle carried. Tle gave a small nod, a silent thank-you, appreciating the trust Firstone showed.

“So… Rainy,” Tle began, wetting his lips nervously, his voice quieter than he intended. He had countless questions swirling in his mind, things he longed to understand but every attempt to phrase them felt clumsy, heavy with emotion he couldn’t name.

“I’m sorry, Phi,” Firstone said, cutting through the silence before Tle could speak. His tone was sincere, full of a quiet weight that made Tle’s chest tighten. Firstone shifted slightly to face him more directly, and Tle found himself staring at the familiar lines, the tension in Firstone’s jaw, the way his eyes held both regret and hesitation but laced with something softer. He doesn’t know when he’ll get this close again, Tle thought, and the thought made him painfully aware of the fragile, fleeting moment between them.

“What for?” Tle asked quietly, his fingers tightening around the glass as if he needed something solid to hold onto while bracing himself for whatever revelations Firstone was about to share. “But… before that, have you taken your medicine?” he added, remembering the fever that had shaken the younger just hours before.

He let his gaze linger, taking a proper, deliberate look at Firstone. The younger man seemed tired, more than just the usual fatigue. Dark bags under his eyes betrayed the sleepless nights he had likely spent tending to Rainy, worrying over her, making sure she was okay. Now dressed in soft, comfortable clothes, having shed the stiffness of his scrubs, Tle noticed subtle changes: a little weight lost, lines sharper against his still-fair skin. 

Yet somehow, despite the weariness, his beauty remained untouched, just as Tle remembered it, soft features framed by the sharp line of his nose, pinkish lips that Tle had once traced with careful attention, and the little moles he had loved to memorize. His eyes, though, told the story better than any words: full of emotions he tried to mask, a quiet anxiety bubbling just beneath the surface, refusing to stay hidden from Tle’s careful watch.

“Mhm. I just took one,” Firstone murmured, raising the glass to his lips. The water went down dryly, his throat scratching with the effort of speaking while still parched, leaving him momentarily vulnerable in a way Tle couldn’t ignore.

“Sorry, Phi…” Firstone finally whispered after what felt like an eternity of silence. His fingers trembled around the glass he had been holding, he lowered it onto the small table in front of him. The faint clink of glass against wood echoed softly in the quiet room. He kept his head down, unable to meet Tle’s eyes. He knew that if he looked at him even for a second, the tears he had been desperately trying to hold back since earlier would betray him completely.

The air between them grew heavy with unsaid words.

Beside him, Tle remained silent, but Firstone heard the quiet shakiness in his breathing. Slowly, Tle turned his body toward him.  “Look at me, First,” Tle said softly, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with so much tenderness that it made Firstone’s chest ache.

Firstone clenched his jaw. Every part of him wanted to keep avoiding his gaze, wanted to keep hiding behind the walls he had spent years building around himself. But ignoring Tle had always been impossible for him. Even now, after everything that had happened between them, after all the pain and distance, he still found himself following the older man’s words without resistance.

Slowly, he lifted his head. The moment their eyes met, Firstone felt his composure crack.

Tle looked at him the same way he used to years ago. There was no anger in his eyes. No resentment. Only quiet concern and affection that never truly faded despite the years they spent apart.

“You don’t have to rush yourself,” Tle murmured gently. “I’m here, and I’ll stay here for as long as you need me to. No matter how long your story is, no matter how difficult it might be to say… I want to hear every single part of it.”

His gaze never left Firstone’s, unwavering and sincere. It was the kind of look that made FirstOne feel safe enough to unravel.

And that terrified him.

Still, Firstone nodded weakly before finally beginning to speak.

At first, his words came out uneven and fragmented, he didn’t know where to start after carrying everything alone for so long. But eventually, the story spilled out of him little by little.

He told Tle about the day he first met Rainy inside the orphanage, the way the child looked so small and lonely that something inside him instantly softened. He talked about how, for the first time in years, he felt needed again.

Then he spoke about the day he planned to tell Tle everything.

The day that was supposed to change everything.

But before he could even gather the courage to confess the truth, he accidentally overheard Tle talking to his grandfather over the phone. He still remembered every word too clearly, remembered how his heart slowly shattered as he listened to Tle speak about fulfilling the promise he had made years ago, the promise that after three years, he would give Firstone the divorce he deserved.

Firstone admitted how numb he felt after hearing it. How the future he had been secretly hoping for collapsed right in front of him.

So instead of fighting for them, he gave up first.

He explained how he convinced Tle to sign the adoption papers without knowing the full truth behind his decision. How he chose to raise Rainy alone because he thought it would hurt less that way for both of them.

And then he spoke about the years that followed.

The sleepless nights. The struggles of raising a child on his own. The loneliness that lingered inside him no matter how happy Rainy made him.

The countless times he almost reached for his phone just to call Tle, only to stop himself because he no longer knew if he still had the right to.

As he revisited memories he had long buried deep inside himself, Firstone’s voice gradually began to shake. His breathing became uneven. Tears blurred his vision until they finally spilled freely down his cheeks.

He hated how vulnerable he sounded. But for the first time in years, he was finally allowing himself to feel everything he had spent so long suppressing.

When he finished speaking, silence filled the room once more. But unlike before, it no longer felt suffocating.

Tle quietly handed him a handkerchief along with a glass of water. The older man didn’t interrupt his breakdown or force him to stop crying. He simply stayed beside him, steady and patient.

Firstone accepted them with trembling hands, offering Tle a small, tearful smile. And somehow, after finally saying everything out loud, the unbearable weight he had carried for years felt lighter.

It scared him how easy it still was to find comfort in Tle.

After all this time, after all the hurt they caused each other, Tle still felt like home.

“I’m sorry, First…” Tle finally said, his voice rough with emotion as he gently held Firstone’s hand between both of his. His grip was careful, almost desperate, like he was afraid Firstone might slip away again. “I’m sorry that when things became difficult, I wasn’t brave enough to hold onto us. I wasn’t strong enough to fight for what we had.”

His voice cracked near the end, and tears welled in his eyes almost immediately.

“I hated myself back then,” Tle admitted quietly. “I was falling apart, and I couldn’t even understand who I was anymore. How could I take care of you properly when I couldn’t even save myself? I kept thinking about how young we were… how we still had so many dreams ahead of us. Marriage wasn’t supposed to feel that heavy at our age.”

He let out a shaky breath before continuing.

“You had so much life ahead of you, First. We both did. And I became terrified that loving me would eventually hold you back from becoming the person you were meant to be.”

Tears finally slid down his cheeks.

“I was scared that maybe you only stayed because you were used to me being there. That maybe what you felt wasn’t truly love anymore… maybe it was comfort, familiarity, obligation. And the thought of trapping you in a life you might regret someday destroyed me.”

Seeing Tle cry shattered something inside Firstone.

Instinctively, he lifted his hand, wanting to wipe the tears away like he used to before. But halfway through, he hesitated. Did he still have the right to touch him like that?

Before he could pull away, Tle caught his hand gently and pressed it against his cheek himself. The warmth of his skin against Firstone’s trembling palm made both of them freeze.

Tle closed his eyes and leaned into his touch with heartbreaking softness.

“I loved you so much, First,” he whispered weakly. “God, I still do. But I learned too late that love alone isn’t always enough to save someone. I was drowning in my own fears and insecurities, and eventually, I became so consumed by my love for you that I stopped recognizing myself anymore.”

Firstone’s tears fell harder.

“I never wanted anyone else,” he whispered back, thumb brushing gently against Tle’s damp cheek. “It was always you. Only you. I trusted us so much back then that I honestly believed we could survive anything together. I thought as long as we stayed beside each other, we’d eventually figure everything out.”

His voice broke into a sob.

“I didn’t realize my faith in us was already becoming a burden for you.”

Tle’s expression crumpled at his words.

“The day I lost you…” Tle whispered shakily, cupping Firstone face with trembling hands, “was the same day I lost myself completely. But even then, I never regretted letting you go.”

He rested his forehead against Firstone’s, both of them crying quietly in the small space between them.

“Because if staying with me meant slowly destroying yourself just to save me… then I would choose to lose you every single time.”

Firstone’s chest tightened painfully.

“But that choice should’ve been mine too, Phi,” he said through tears as he gently pushed Tle away, needing space to breathe through the overwhelming emotions. “You decided everything on your own. Whether I stayed or left… whether I fought for us or not… you took that choice away from me.”

Tle broke down completely at that.

“How could I not?” he cried helplessly. “I know you, First. I know how much you love. You would’ve stayed no matter how badly things hurt you. You would’ve exhausted yourself trying to fix me while slowly losing pieces of yourself in the process.”

His voice trembled violently.

“And I couldn’t bear watching that happen to you.”

Tle wiped his tears roughly before looking at him with heartbreaking honesty.

“I would rather watch you walk away from me than spend the rest of my life seeing the light in your eyes disappear because of me.”

“You know what the problem was, Phi?” Firstone asked in a trembling voice, though it sounded less like a question and more like years of restrained pain finally clawing its way out of him. Tears blurred his vision as he stared at Tle with red, exhausted eyes. “It wasn’t that you refused to change.”

He lifted his trembling hand and pressed a finger against Tle’s chest, right above his heart. The contact was weak, but it carried the weight of every sleepless night and every silent heartbreak he had endured without him.

“What you lacked…” FirstOne whispered, his voice cracking, “was trust.”

Tle froze beneath his touch.

“You didn’t trust yourself enough to believe you could survive your struggles without destroying me in the process.” Firstone’s breathing shook violently as more tears slipped down his cheeks. “You didn’t trust me enough to let me choose to stay beside you. And worst of all…” His voice broke completely. “You stopped believing in us.”

The room fell into suffocating silence.

Forstone could barely breathe through the ache crushing his chest. Every memory they shared, the promises they made when they were younger, felt like shards of glass lodged deep inside him now.

And then, finally, he broke. Not quietly nor gracefully. Years of longing, grief, and unresolved love poured out of him all at once.

“You were so afraid we wouldn’t survive,” he sobbed helplessly, tears falling endlessly from his eyes. “But did it ever occur to you that maybe we could have? That maybe if you had just trusted me enough to stay… trusted yourself enough to let me help you… we could’ve gotten through everything together?”

His hands clenched weakly against Tle’s shirt before he began softly pounding against his chest. The hits were fragile, barely carrying any force at all, but they were filled with overwhelming hurt.

“You needed to believe in yourself,” Firstone cried. “Believe that you were worth loving even when you were at your worst. Believe that I was strong enough to stand beside you. Believe that no matter how difficult things became, we would find a way because we had each other.”

Each word sounded like it physically hurt to say.

“But instead…” His breathing hitched violently. “You made the decision for both of us.”

Tle lowered his head, shoulders trembling as tears streamed freely down his face.

“And because of that,” Firstone continued weakly, voice cracking beyond repair, “you didn’t just lose yourself when you let me go.” He pressed a trembling hand against his own chest this time.

“I lost myself too.”

The confession shattered something inside both of them. “The person you were trying so hard to protect…” Firstone whispered, shaking his head slowly as another sob escaped him. “He disappeared the moment you walked away from me.”

Tle covered his mouth as his cries became harder to suppress. Firstone let out a broken laugh, bitter and exhausted.

“You know what’s cruel?” he whispered. “Even after everything… a part of me kept hoping.” His eyes fell to the floor as though ashamed of how deeply he still loved the man in front of him. “No,” he corrected himself softly, tears dripping from his chin. “Not hoping. Begging.”

He laughed again, though it sounded emptier this time. “I spent nights praying for you to come after me. I kept wishing you’d stop me before I left completely. I wanted you to tell me we could still fix things. That we weren’t over yet.”

His voice cracked so painfully that Tle instinctively reached for him, but Firstone moved first.

“Damn it, Phi…” he cried helplessly. “I never needed you to save me.” The words came out louder this time, filled with years of frustration and heartbreak.

“I didn’t need you sacrificing our marriage because you thought it was for my own good. I didn’t need you deciding what kind of pain I could or couldn’t handle.” His chest rose and fell unevenly as he wiped his tears with trembling hands.

“I loved you,” he whispered shakily. “I loved you so much that even if the world collapsed around us, I still would’ve chosen you.” Tle’s face crumpled completely.

“And if you were hurting…” Firstone continued, voice softer now but infinitely sadder, “then there was nowhere else I wanted to be except beside you. Especially during the moments when you needed me the most. Especially during the moments when we needed each other.”

The silence that followed felt devastating.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them could.

Firstone slowly nodded to himself through his tears, as though finally piecing together something he had spent years trying to understand.

“But…” he whispered weakly, swallowing hard, “I understand now.”

Tle looked up at him with trembling eyes.

“I understand why you thought leaving was the only way to protect me.” Firstone gave a small, tearful smile devoid of bitterness. “I understand that you loved me so much you were willing to lose me if it meant I’d have a better life.”

That only made Tle cry harder.

“I’m sorry, First,” Tle whispered brokenly, his entire body shaking under the weight of his guilt. “If I could take everything back… if I could undo all the pain I caused you, I would.”

But Firstone immediately shook his head.

“No,” he said softly, voice fragile but sincere. “Don’t carry all of it alone.” He stepped closer again, eyes filled with exhaustion and lingering love.

“We both hurt each other, Phi,” he murmured. “We were both young. We were both scared. And we both made choices we thought were right at the time.”

His lips trembled into a faint, heartbreaking smile.

“So… I’m sorry too.”

The room gradually fell into silence after the intensity of their emotions finally began to wear down. Not the awkward kind of silence that demanded to be filled, nor the painful silence that once existed between them for years but gentler. A silence born from finally laying every wound bare.

Only the faint sound of their uneven breathing remained.

Both of them stayed where they were, emotionally exhausted from everything they had confessed. Their eyes were swollen from crying, their hearts still aching from reopening old wounds they had spent years trying to bury. Yet despite the lingering pain, something between them had changed.

The heaviness no longer felt suffocating.

For the first time in a long while, they were no longer hiding from each other.

Firstone leaned back slightly against the couch, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he tried calming the storm inside his chest. He could still feel the sting behind his eyes from crying too much. His body felt drained, but strangely enough, lighter too. Like years’ worth of grief had finally loosened its grip around his heart.

Beside him, Tle remained quiet. Not because he had nothing left to say. But because he knew some moments were too fragile for unnecessary words.

Then slowly, cautiously, Firstone felt movement beside him. Tle’s hand gently settled on top of the empty space near his lap.

The touch was featherlight. Tle was terrified that even now, after everything they had said tonight, Firstone might still pull away from him.

The older man didn’t immediately grab his hand. He didn’t force closeness nor did he assume he still had the right.

Instead, he simply left his hand there silently, waiting for Firstone to decide, for him to choose freely this time.

The realization alone made Firstone’s chest ache. Because years ago, Tle made decisions on his behalf thinking it was love.

But now, after everything they had lost because of that mistake, Tle was finally learning to trust him enough to choose for himself.

And somehow, that small gesture carried more sincerity than any grand apology ever could. Firstone lowered his gaze toward Tle’s hand.

The same hand that once held him through sleepless nights. The same hand he spent years missing without admitting it aloud. A faint smile slowly formed on his lips despite the tears still staining his face.

Without saying anything, Firstone gently slipped his fingers through Tle’s and clasped his hand tightly.

The moment their hands intertwined again, both of them visibly froze. It felt achingly familiar like muscle memory. It felt like returning to a place your heart never truly left behind.

Tle let out a shaky breath at the feeling of Firstone holding him again, his thumb unconsciously brushing against the younger man’s knuckles as though reassuring himself this was real.

Firstone then carefully rested their intertwined hands in the small space between them. Not too close to himself and not entirely toward Tle either.

Right in the middle. A silent symbol neither of them needed to explain aloud. Halfway. A quiet promise that this time, neither of them would carry the burden alone. This time, they would meet each other in the middle instead of sacrificing themselves in silence. This time, they would communicate and compromise. This time, stay.

Because maybe love was never about being perfect for each other. Maybe love was choosing each other even after seeing the ugliest, most broken parts of one another. And perhaps forgiveness was the purest form of love there was.

After all, you do not truly love someone until you learn how to forgive, not just their mistakes, but also the frightened versions of yourselves that once hurt each other while trying to survive.

Tle tightened his hold on Firstone’s hand ever so slightly before finally breaking the silence.

His voice came out quiet and fragile, carrying years of regret and hope all at once. “If you could find it in your heart to give me another chance…” he began carefully, almost afraid of his own words, “would you allow me to spend the rest of my life proving how much you mean to me?”

His eyes slowly lifted toward Firstone’s.

“Would you let me love you again?” he whispered shakily. “Not the way I did before, out of fear and self-destruction. But properly this time. Honestly. Without running away when things get difficult.”

The vulnerability in Tle’s voice nearly shattered Firstone’s heart all over again.

Because this was all he had ever wanted from him. Not perfection and impossible promises. Just honesty. Just someone willing to stay.

Firstine stared at him for a long moment before tears once again gathered in his eyes not from pain this time, but from overwhelming relief.

A soft and tender small smile slowly appeared on his lips. Beautiful in a way that made Tle’s chest tighten painfully.

To Tle, it was the most precious smile he had ever seen from Firstone.

Because despite everything life had put them through, despite all the years they spent apart, FirstOne was still looking at him with love.

And Tle suddenly realized that being loved by him had always been the greatest privilege of his life.

“Even if you asked me over and over again,” Firstone said softly, voice trembling with emotion, “my answer would never change.”

He squeezed Tle’s hand gently. “At the end of everything… I would still choose you, Phi.”

Tle’s breath caught instantly.

The words struck him so deeply that he physically had to look away for a second just to stop himself from completely breaking apart.

For years, guilt convinced him he no longer deserved Firstone’s love. Yet somehow, Firstone was still here.

Still choosing him. Still loving him despite all the pain he caused.

Tle bowed his head as tears slipped freely down his face once more.

Then after a moment, he looked back at Firstone with trembling eyes filled with cautious hope.

“Then let me make things right,” he whispered shakily. “Not only with you… but with our child too.”

Our child. The words echoed loudly inside Firstone’s chest. And just like that, his composure nearly crumbled again.

For years, he had dreamed of hearing Tle say those words naturally. Not out of obligation and guilt but because he genuinely wanted to claim Rainy as his too.

Firstone quickly looked down as emotion overwhelmed him all over again. Because after spending so many years raising Rainy alone, after convincing himself he no longer needed anyone beside him…

Hearing Tle finally say our child felt like someone carefully stitching back together a part of his heart he thought was gone forever.

And in that moment, despite all the pain they endured to get there, Firstone realized something quietly beautiful: For the first time in years, the future no longer felt lonely nor scary.

“Can I hold you?” Tle’s voice came out quiet and tentative, carrying a vulnerability that Firstone had rarely seen from him before. His eyes remained fixed on Firstone’s face, carefully studying every subtle shift in his expression as though searching for any sign of discomfort, any indication that he had crossed a line. 

Firstone blinked at him in confusion at first, not immediately understanding what he meant. But when realization slowly dawned on him, warmth instantly rushed to his cheeks. Embarrassed by how obvious his thoughts suddenly became, he quickly lowered his head to hide the growing redness spreading across his face.

A soft laugh escaped Tle at the sight.

He missed the way Firstone still became shy around him despite all the years they had spent together before. Missed the way his ears turned red whenever he got flustered. Missed how naturally adorable he could be without even trying.

And somehow, seeing Firstone blush again after believing for years that he had permanently lost the right to witness moments like this made Tle’s chest ache painfully with affection.

Without saying anything else, Firstone slowly shifted from his place on the sofa and carefully moved onto Tle’s waiting lap. The movement felt hesitant only for a second before instinct took over, his body still remembered this kind of closeness because somewhere deep inside him, he never truly forgot where he belonged.

The second Firstone settled sideways against him, Tle immediately wrapped both arms around his waist, pulling him close with barely restrained desperation.

The embrace wasn’t rushed or forceful instead it was longing made physical, years of yearning compressed into a single touch.

Tle closed his eyes tightly as he held him. For so long, this was all he wanted. To feel Firstone in his arms again and to know he was real and warm and still here.

He buried his face against the crook of Firstone’s neck and inhaled shakily, instantly recognizing the familiar scent that haunted him for years. No expensive perfume. No artificial fragrance. Just Firstone. 

The scent that once lingered on his pillows, the scent he spent years trying to remember whenever loneliness became unbearable.

Home.

That was the only word Tle could think of.

Firestone’s arms naturally slid around Tle’s neck in return, fingers softly brushing against the nape of his hair as he relaxed into the embrace little by little. He adjusted himself comfortably against Tle’s chest, unconsciously molding himself closer as though his body had missed this kind of safety just as much.

And the terrifying part was how natural it still felt that as if time and heartbreak had never separated them at all.

Tle tightened his hold slightly, almost afraid this moment might disappear if he loosened his arms. Then after a long while of simply holding each other in silence, Tle finally spoke again.

“Tell me more about our daughter,” he whispered softly.

Firstone’s expression softened instantly. He absentmindedly stroked Tle’s shoulder while speaking, his touch gentle and affectionate.

“I adopted her when she was around four months old,” he began quietly. “The orphanage didn’t really know much about her background. No records about her biological parents… no relatives either.”

A faint smile slowly appeared on his lips as he continued talking about Rainy.

“But she grew up really well,” he said softly, pride evident in his voice. “She’s sweet, very polite, thoughtful… always so warm toward other people.”

He laughed quietly to himself.

“She can be a little playful sometimes though, especially when she wants attention.” His eyes softened further. “But she’s incredibly studious too. She always tries her best.”

Tle listened carefully to every single word, completely absorbed. Not only because he wanted to know Rainy but because hearing Firstone talk about her made him painfully aware of everything he had missed. Every milestone, difficult night, little moment that should have included him too.

“She calls me ‘FirstFirst’ most of the time,” FirstOne continued with a smile. “Though sometimes she calls me ‘Dada.’”

Then his expression shifted slightly.

“And every now and then…” he whispered more quietly, “she asks me about her papa.”

The confession struck Tle deeply. His hold around Firstone tightened instinctively as guilt and longing crashed against his chest all over again.

Firstone lowered his gaze.

“Honestly, raising Rainy was never difficult,” he admitted softly. “She made life easier for me more than she realizes.”

A tired but fond smile appeared on his face. “The only times I really struggled were whenever she got sick.” He sighed quietly. “As you can probably tell, Rainy gets very emotional when she isn’t feeling well. She cries a lot.”

His voice softened further. “So I promised myself I’d always personally take care of her whenever she’s sick. No matter how exhausted I am… I wanted her to feel safe.”

Tle’s chest tightened painfully hearing that because that should have been their responsibility and not Firstone’s alone.

“What did you name her?” Tle asked gently after a moment, finally lifting his head from Firstone’s neck so he could properly look at him. FirstOne met his gaze quietly.

“Rainy Yardphirun,” he answered softly, “Yardphirun Sreeboonrueang.”

Tle froze.

The world around him seemed to stop for a moment as the surname registered in his mind.

Sreeboonrueang. His surname. His family name.

The name Firstone still chose for Rainy despite everything that happened between them. Despite the divorce and the years they spent apart.

Firstone could have easily given Rainy the surname Reungrat instead. Nobody would have questioned him for it but he didn’t. Because even after losing Tle, Firstone still carried him with him in the most important parts of his life.

And suddenly, Tle realized something devastating, Rainy wasn’t just Firstone’s child. She was living proof that Firstone never stopped loving him.

Tears immediately welled in Tle’s eyes again.

“Yardphirun Sreeboonrueang…” he repeated shakily, voice thick with emotion. “That’s such a beautiful name.”

Firstone smiled softly before reaching up to wipe the tears slipping down Tle’s cheeks.

“She’s our little raindrop after the storm,” he whispered tenderly before resting his forehead against Tle’s.

The words shattered Tle completely.

A child born after heartbreak, grief, after surviving the worst parts of themselves.

A reminder that even after destruction, something beautiful could still grow.

“I love you so much, First,” Tle whispered brokenly, eyes closing as he leaned into the warmth radiating from him.

Firstone cupped Tle’s face gently with both hands, thumbs brushing softly against his tear-stained cheeks.

“I love you too, P’Tle,” he whispered back.

Then slowly Firstone leaned closer toward Tle’s lips– “Papa?” The tiny sleepy voice instantly broke the moment. Both of them froze in shock.

Their eyes widened simultaneously before they quickly scrambled apart, nearly tripping over themselves trying to stand up.

For a second, neither of them moved nor neither of them even breathed.

Papa?

Slowly, they both turned toward the hallway. There stood Rainy, freshly awakened from sleep, clutching her blanket while rubbing her tired little eyes.

Her hair was messy from sleep and cheeks puffy. And she looked impossibly small standing there.

Firstone and Tle looked at each other in stunned silence before immediately dropping to their knees together to meet her halfway.

Rainy immediately waddled toward Firstone and wrapped her tiny arms around him sleepily before resting her head against his chest. Then curiously she looked toward Tle.

The three of them eventually sat together on the sofa, with Firstone adjusting Rainy carefully against him. Still visibly overwhelmed, Firstone looked gently at his daughter.

“Baby…” he whispered softly, trying to steady his voice. “Can you say that again?” Rainy blinked slowly before pointing directly at Tle.

“Papa?” she repeated innocently. And just like that, Firstone’s composure completely shattered. Beside him, Tle looked seconds away from breaking down too.

Firstone nodded shakily despite the tears immediately filling his eyes again. “Yes, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice cracking in the middle of his sentence. “That’s Papa.”

Almost instantly, Rainy stretched both arms toward Tle in silent request and Tle nearly lost himself completely.

With trembling hands, he carefully took Rainy from Firstone’s arms and settled her gently onto his lap as though she was the most precious thing he had ever touched.

He tried so hard not to cry but the tears still came anyway. Because this was the first time someone had ever called him Papa.

And it came from the child he already loved with his entire heart. Rainy simply snuggled against his chest naturally, completely comfortable in his arms as though she had always belonged there.

Tle wrapped one arm securely around Rainy while his other arm instinctively reached for Firstone, pulling him close by the waist until he was pressed tightly against his side.

Then softly, Tle pressed a kiss against Rainy’s forehead. And another against Firstone’s temple.

Rainy rested her sleepy head against Tle’s shoulder while Firstone leaned quietly against his chest, listening to the frantic beating of his heart beneath his ribs.

And in that moment, Tle felt something inside him heal completely. Because after years of regret, loneliness, and self-punishment… The two people he loved most were finally in his arms. His home is his family.

And this time, he would spend the rest of his life making sure they never doubted how loved they were again.