Milo's heart raced as Kiet's lips moved against his with a fervor that left him breathless. The initial shock of the kiss had faded, replaced by an overwhelming rush of sensations that were both confusing and electrifying. Kiet's hands, firm on his hips, drew him closer; their bodies pressed together in a way that made Milo feel both vulnerable and intensely alive.

The kiss deepened, Kiet's tongue seeking entrance as Milo hesitantly parted his lips. The moment was charged with a raw, possessive intensity that left Milo feeling disoriented, yet strangely captivated. His hands found their way to Kiet's shoulders, gripping them tightly as he tried to ground himself amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

With each step, Kiet and Milo moved closer to the bed, their lips fused in a passionate embrace that seemed to erase the world around them. The air between them was thick with anticipation and desire. Kiet's hand slid up Milo's back, his touch both commanding and tender, guiding him backward until Milo felt the edge of the mattress against the back of his knees.

In one smooth, decisive motion, Kiet gently but firmly pushed Milo onto the bed. The sheets were cool against Milo's heated skin, contrasting sharply with the fiery intensity of the kiss they had just shared. Kiet's gaze was unwavering as he looked down at Milo's prone form, his eyes dark with a mix of hunger and unspoken need.

Kiet’s gaze roamed over Milo's body, his eyes lingering on every exposed inch. His hands trembled slightly, betraying the storm of emotions he was trying to master. 

"I can't control it anymore," Kiet muttered, almost to himself, his voice rough with barely contained desire.

Kiet's lips hovered above Milo’s skin, the heat of his breath mingling with the rapid thrum of Milo's pulse. The intensity in Kiet’s eyes was a potent mix of frustration and desire; his body was poised over Milo’s in a way that spoke of urgent longing. His hands continued their exploration, tracing the contours of Milo’s torso with a possessiveness that was both thrilling and overwhelming.

Milo's mind was a whirlwind, a mix of sensation and emotion. The urgency in Kiet's movements was undeniable, and as much as Milo wanted to lose himself in the moment, a small voice in the back of his mind pulled him back to reality.

"Kiet," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing. 

But Kiet didn't seem to hear him, too lost in the heat of the moment. Milo's hands came up, gently pushing against Kiet's shoulders. "Kiet, wait."

Kiet paused, his lips hovering just above Milo's skin. His eyes, dark and intense, met Milo's. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice full of frustration and desire.

Milo's voice trembled as he spoke, "We are not married yet."

Kiet's brow furrowed in confusion. "What's the difference now or then? It's the same thing."

Milo hesitated, searching for the right words. "I... I'm not ready yet."

Kiet studied Milo's face, seeing the mix of emotions written there. He sighed, pulling back slightly. 

"Alright," he said.

"I...I am sorry," Milo said as he looked at Kiet.

"Don't be sorry. If you're not ready, then you're not ready." Kiet's voice is softer now. 

Kiet lay beside Milo, their bodies still close, but the intensity of the moment had shifted. He reached out, pulling Milo into a firm embrace. "But on our first night," he whispered into Milo's ear, a smirk playing on his lips, "I won't control myself. I will make sure you become mine physically."

Milo shivered at Kiet's words, feeling the heat of Kiet's breath against his skin. He couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety, knowing that their wedding night would bring a new level of intimacy. For now, though, he found a strange comfort in Kiet's arms, allowing himself to relax and breathe.

Kiet's hold on him was possessive yet gentle, and as they lay there together, the tension between them slowly gave way to a more tender connection. Kiet's fingers brushed through Milo's hair, a soothing gesture that contrasted sharply with the earlier intensity.

"Just remember," Kiet murmured, "you're mine, Milo. And I'll be patient... for now."

Milo nodded silently, his thoughts racing. The man who had once threatened his life and his family's was now holding him close. It was a strange twist of fate that brought them to this moment, where Milo could feel a hint of warmth emanating from Kiet's embrace. It was just a start, a fragile beginning, but in that moment, Milo found a small measure of relief that perhaps he could survive in this house after all.

But something still bothered him. As he lay there, watching Kiet seemingly drift towards sleep, a question surfaced in his mind—a question he couldn't ignore, though fear tinged every syllable.

"Can I ask you something?" Milo's voice trembled softly, breaking the silence that enveloped them.

Kiet's response came as a low, murmuring hum of acknowledgment. "Hmm."

Milo hesitated, his heart pounding as he gathered the courage to voice his fear. "What if... what if I disobey you?" His voice quivered, the words hanging in the air with palpable tension.

Kiet's eyes snapped open, fixing Milo with an intense gaze that seemed to pierce through his very soul. The room felt smaller, suffused with an unspoken weight as Kiet's expression hardened slightly. 

"Then," he began, his voice low and controlled, "I will make sure you learn your place here."

Milo's breath caught in his throat, a chill running down his spine at the steely resolve in Kiet's tone. The reality of his fear in this unfamiliar environment pressed down on him like a suffocating weight.

"You are here because you have no choice, Milo. Remember that."

Milo swallowed hard, nodding slowly as he processed the gravity of Kiet's words. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken implications. Kiet watched him closely, his gaze unwavering.

"I hope you have your answer," Kiet finally said, his voice softer now, almost resigned.

Milo nodded again, his gaze dropping to the bedsheet. In that moment, he understood with chilling clarity the delicate balance he treaded upon—a balance dictated by Kiet's rules.

                                                                                               ***

Bangkok, streets,

Waan strolled out of the supermarket, a small bag of snacks in one hand, the other busy scrolling through his phone. The cool night air was refreshing against his skin, a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors. He was dressed in his night pajamas, a testament to his relaxed state, thinking about the snacks he would enjoy once he got home.

As he walked, lost in the world of social media, a sudden "Boo!" shattered the tranquility. Waan gasped, almost dropping his phone and snacks as he stumbled backward. His heart raced as he looked up to see Som, laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach.

"Som!" Waan exclaimed, irritation coloring his voice. "You scared me to death!"

Som's laughter only grew after seeing Waan's wide-eyed, startled expression. "You should've seen your face, Waan! It was priceless!" he managed between giggles.

Waan, though annoyed, couldn't help but crack a smile at his friend's infectious laughter. "You're such a dork," he muttered, giving Som a playful kick on the shin.

"Ow!" Som exaggerated, hopping on one foot. "Violence is not the answer, Waan."

"Maybe not," Waan retorted, "but it sure makes me feel better."

They began walking together, the supermarket now a glowing spot in the distance. The streetlights cast a warm glow on the sidewalk, and the occasional sound of distant traffic filled the silence. Som glanced at Waan, his playful expression softening. "You know, you look kind of cute when you're scared."

Waan rolled his eyes but felt a blush creeping up his cheeks. "Shut up," he mumbled, nudging Som with his elbow.

Som grinned, slipping his arm around Waan's shoulders. "I'm serious. You're adorable, even in your pajamas."

"Shut up, Som. Why do you always flirt around when you're not even serious about it?" Waan replied, a hint of irritation in his voice.

Som noticed Waan's expression and his grin faded slightly. He suddenly pulled Waan by the waist, drawing him closer. "Who said I'm not serious?" Som's voice was lower, more intense.

Waan glanced around, his cheeks flushing. "Leave me, Som. People are looking."

"I don't care," Som replied, his grip tightening. He looked into Waan's eyes with a sincerity that made Waan's heart skip a beat. "Let me tell you something, Waan."

Waan met Som's gaze, feeling the intensity of the moment. "What?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I don't flirt with you because it's fun," Som said, his voice steady. "It's because I really like you."

Waan's eyes widened, and he broke eye contact, looking down in an attempt to hide his emotions. But Som wasn't having it. He gently lifted Waan's chin, forcing him to look into his eyes again. "And I know you know that my feelings for you are real. So don't you ever say I'm not serious."

Waan's breath hitched, the weight of Som's words sinking in. "Som..." he started, his voice trailing off as emotions overwhelmed him.

Som leaned in, his forehead resting against Waan's. "I mean it, Waan. I care about you. More than you know."

Waan was about to respond when suddenly a text message notification sound popped. The moment shattered, and Waan struggled slightly, saying, "Leave me, Som."

Som released him, a mix of confusion and concern on his face. Waan quickly took out his phone, his eyes widening with shock as he read the message. Som, noticing the sudden change in Waan's demeanor, asked, "What's the matter?"

Waan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he simply showed Som the text on his phone. 

"What should we do?" Waan asked.

                                                                                         ***

The Day of Wedding,

Rattanakorn Mansion,

In the blink of an eye, the day of the wedding arrived. The Rattanakorn mansion buzzed with frantic activity as preparations were underway.  Amidst this chaos, Milo sat on the edge of the bed, nervously shaking his legs.

Kiet stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. He glanced at Milo, who was visibly anxious. "Go and take a shower, or else we will be late," Kiet instructed, his voice firm.  "I don't want any delays."

Milo stood up quickly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yes," he replied, making his way to the bathroom. 

As he closed the door behind him, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He stared at himself for a moment, the weight of the day pressing heavily on his shoulders.

"From today on, everything is going to change forever," he mumbled to himself.

The weddings Milo had seen were always filled with love, warmth, and smiles. But for him, this day held no such promises. It felt like a sentence rather than a celebration. He sighed and turned on the shower.

Meanwhile, Kiet took out his wedding suit from the wardrobe. His face was a mask of indifference as he methodically dressed, each movement precise and calculated. To him, this day was just another event to navigate, no different from a business meeting or a daily routine. There were no visible signs of joy or excitement, just cold efficiency.

Despite the grim atmosphere surrounding the wedding, there was one person who was genuinely happy—Thanaya. The little girl is unaware that the union between Milo and Kiet was not one of love but of thorns and obligations.

Thanaya looked at herself in front of the mirror, admiring her beautiful pink frock. She glanced at the maid beside her, who was helping her dress. "Do I look pretty?" she asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.

The maid smiled warmly. "Yes, miss, you're always pretty."

Thanaya's face lit up with a radiant smile. "I know I am pretty, Aunty, but today I need to look more pretty. It's Daddy and Papa's marriage."

The maid chuckled softly. "Then why don't we wear that beautiful butterfly clip? You'll look even more beautiful."

"Yes!" Thanaya agreed; her excitement was palpable. The maid carefully placed the butterfly clip in Thanaya's hair, and she beamed at her reflection.

Just then, Arhit entered the room. "Oh my goodness, Miss Thanaya, look at you! You look absolutely gorgeous."

Thanaya turned to him, her eyes sparkling. "Really, Uncle Arhit?"

Arhit smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Thanaya giggled and looked back at herself in the mirror, pleased with her appearance. Then she turned to Arhit with a curious look on her face. "Oh, by the way, Uncle, who is going to be the flower girl?"

Arhit knelt down to her level, his smile softening. "Well, I didn't look for any flower girls since you're here."

Thanaya's smile widened even more. "Really? Am I going to be the flower girl?"

"Who else would be more perfect than the groom's daughter?" Arhit replied, ruffling her hair gently.

Thanaya's excitement dimmed slightly as she glanced down at her wheelchair. "But, Uncle, how will I be a flower girl? I can't even walk properly."

Arhit's smile remained steady as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You don't need to worry, Miss Thanaya. I'll be there with you every step of the way."

Thanaya's face brightened once more, her worries melting away. "Thank you, Uncle Arhit," she said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

Arhit gave her a gentle hug. "You're welcome, Miss Thanaya. Then, shall we go?"

"Yes," Thanaya said with excitement.

                                                                                           ***

Channarat House,

Nuea and Milo's parents were dressed and ready to go; the tension in the house was palpable. Determination etched into his face, Milo's father paced the living room, the weight of his decision bearing down on him. Milo's mother sat quietly, her eyes filled with a mix of worry and resolve.

Just then, Som and Waan entered the house, their faces serious. Som stepped forward, his voice steady but concerned. "Are you sure we're going to do this?"

Milo's father stopped pacing and faced them, his eyes burning with determination. "That's right. It's the only way to stop this marriage and save Milo."

Nuea, standing to the side, took a deep breath and stepped forward, his voice trembling slightly. "But, Dad, it's dangerous. What if... what if our plan fails and it makes Milo's life even more dangerous and tough? What are we going to do then?"

Milo's father slammed his fist on the table, his voice rising with emotion. "That's why... that's why we have to make sure our plan works! I can't let my son live his whole life with a person who is nothing but a demon."

He looked at Som and Waan, his gaze intense. "You both, just make sure you reach there in time. Because I am definitely going to stop this marriage, whatever it takes."