At the very bottom, he discovered a small, folded palm-leaf note.

With careful fingers, he unfolded it. On the faded surface, written in pale ink, were the words:

“Young one, meet me at the riverside pavilion near the market after midday.”

Kham-In froze. His heart pounded.

‘Prince Wihokrat… what could he want?’

He quickly hid the note back where he found it, suppressing his worry from showing. Taking a deep breath, he climbed to the upper chambers to request permission to leave.

In the sunlit reception room of the upper residence, Buakes sat surrounded by silks and silver threads. Her hair was elegantly tied up, adorned with a golden hairpin that revealed the graceful curve of her neck.

"Is something the matter, Kham-In?" she asked without looking up.

He pressed his hands together and bowed slightly.

"I humbly request to visit the market today, my lady. We are short on silk and dye."

She slowly set her thread aside and looked up at him. Her gaze was unreadable… yet sharp with something strange behind it.

"Go, if it’s necessary," she said coolly.

"But don’t forget who you serve. You are not going for leisure."

"Yes, my lady," Kham-In answered briefly, bowing again before taking his leave.

As soon as the door closed behind him…

Buakes turned to Kaew, who sat quietly in the corner.

"We’re following him," she said lowly.

"I want to see… whether he’s truly going to the market—or to someone."

Kaew nodded with a faint, curious smirk on her lips.

…

That very afternoon, veils of secrecy began to unravel. Amidst the smoky scent of grilled fish and the distant gong of the royal temple, Kham-In walked unaware that this was not merely a “meeting”—but the beginning of a truth silently walking behind him.

…

The royal market bustled late in the morning. Vendors waved fans at flies beneath sun-dappled stalls, while hawkers called out with practiced ease. Laughter and bartering filled the air.

Kham-In weaved through the crowd, heart restless. His basket was empty—because what he sought today wasn’t silk or vegetables.

Not far behind, across the road…

Buakes, clad in striking crimson, walked beside Kaew, stealthily following him while avoiding curious eyes.

"My lady… there are too many people," Kaew whispered.

"I lost sight of him."

"Just follow me," Buakes hissed, craning her neck to peer over the crowd.

Kham-In… if you’re running off with a man…

The gold bangles on her wrist clinked as she picked up her pace.

At the same time…

Kham-In slipped through to the riverside pavilion he remembered from childhood. He glanced left and right cautiously before sitting on a weathered bamboo bench. The river lapped softly at the bank, the breeze fluttering the hem of his robe.

His eyes scanned the passersby… but there was no sign of the one who had summoned him.

Was I wrong to come?

Then—

Soft footsteps echoed along the path. A figure appeared beneath the jujube tree’s shade.

"You came."

Kham-In turned swiftly, his face paling slightly.

Prince Wihokrat stood there beneath the swaying leaves, his gaze calm yet intense.

"I…" Kham-In bowed quickly, speaking fast as if afraid of interruption.

"I beg you, young prince… I know you’ve found out that I impersonated Lady Buakes to weave in the pavilion. Please… don’t speak of this to anyone. I had no choice."

Wihokrat didn’t reply right away. He stepped closer, his eyes seeming to read Kham-In’s soul.

"Is your heart trembling… from fear? Or guilt?"

His voice was soft, but it struck deep.

Kham-In lowered his head.

"I didn’t mean harm… I only followed orders… My mother—"

"That’s enough," Wihokrat raised a hand.

"I never said I intended to punish you."

A small smile tugged at his lips, though the glint in his eyes revealed this meeting was not simply an accusation.

"I just want you to join me at the market today. As my companion."

…

"Is there anything you’d like?"

Wihokrat asked as they paused near a silk stall.

Scarves and cloth fluttered gently in the breeze, their colors shimmering in sunlight. The moment between them was laced with something more than just friendship.

Kham-In lowered his gaze and shook his head politely.

"I only wish to finish the cloth I’ve started… I don’t need anything, my lord."

Wihokrat laughed softly—not mocking, but knowingly.

"You’re too serious. Or are you afraid it won’t please Lady Buakes?"

The words hit a sore spot. Kham-In’s cheeks flushed. He turned away, unsure what to say. But before he could respond, the prince had already changed the subject with a smile and continued walking. Kham-In had no choice but to follow.

Wihokrat pointed to a bolt of emerald green silk embroidered with a resting tiger.

"Look at this—emerald tiger silk. It would match your jade bracelet, don’t you think?"

He turned to meet Kham-In’s eyes.

"Or perhaps you’d prefer this hand-dyed indigo cotton? It’s beautiful too."

Kham-In pressed his palms together over his chest, voice tinged with unease.

"My lord… I dare not accept any gift. Not even your kindness."

His tone was so gentle, it sounded more like a plea not to bind hearts with favors.

…

Meanwhile, across the street…

Buakes stood under the trees with Kaew. Her eyes blazed with jealousy that no rich fabric could conceal. She clenched her fan tightly as she saw Wihokrat gently offering silk to Kham-In. Her lips drew into a bitter line.

"So… the man who gave him the jade bracelet… was Prince Wihokrat?"

Kaew looked away and chuckled nervously.

"They… look rather sweet together, don’t they?"

Buakes snapped her head around, her eyes bloodshot with rage.

"Sweet? He’s a filthy deviant! Shameless! A servant! Has he forgotten his place?"

Her voice trembled, hand gripping the fan so hard it shook.

"I’ll let them be happy for today. Come, Kaew. I’m burning with anger."

She turned sharply, her silk skirt flaring with each step. Kaew hurried after, too afraid to say another word.

Only the shadow of envy lingered… festering inside Buakes’ heart.

…

By late afternoon, the market thinned.

Sunlight streamed through the jujube leaves, casting dappled shadows on the cracked stone path—like a broken heart that no thread could mend.

Kham-In and Prince Wihokrat reached that quiet spot. There were no merchants, no laughter of children. Only the rustle of leaves and the unsettled rhythm of Kham-In’s breath.

He stopped, turned toward the prince.

"Why… are you doing this?"

His voice wasn’t angry—but fragile, like silk about to tear.

"You found out I was impersonating Lady Buakes… yet instead of exposing me, you walked with me, talked with me, bought me things…"

He dropped his gaze, voice soft with confusion.

"Why?"

Wihokrat didn’t answer immediately. He looked up at the golden light through the trees, then turned back to Kham-In with shining eyes.

"I don’t want to expose you."

His voice was gentle, like wind through a pavilion.

"I just want to know you—as you, not a servant, not Buakes’ shadow. Just… Kham-In, standing before me."

Kham-In froze. His lips parted, but before he could speak—

Thud—Thud—

Heavy footsteps rushed from the alley.

The sound wasn’t loud, but it struck Kham-In’s heart like thunder.

Prince Rajasihavong.

He arrived in plain robes—yet his presence radiated such command that nearby townsfolk stopped and stared.

His face was calm, but his eyes… burned with a flame newly lit.

He stepped forward between the two and drew Kham-In into his arms. For a moment, time seemed to stop.

The scent of his robes… of silk… of the cloth in Kham-In’s hands… all mingled in a closeness that made their hearts tremble.

"Did he hurt you?" he whispered.

Kham-In flinched slightly—but didn’t pull away. He couldn’t look at anyone, heart thudding so loudly he feared the Prince might hear.

"No, my lord…" he murmured, barely audible.

Prince Rajasihavong looked down at the boy trembling in his arms, then up at Wihokrat. He said nothing more—just turned, still holding Kham-In, and walked away.

Wihokrat stood alone beneath the jujube tree.

He no longer smiled. He simply watched them go until they vanished from sight, and whispered to himself—

"Even if you lead by one step, I’ll stand here… quietly… waiting for the day he might look back."

…

Their footsteps echoed on the gravel path by the palace garden. Shadows stretched across the ground, as if trying to hide something beneath the silence.

Prince Rajasihavong had not let go of Kham-In’s hand since the pavilion. His grip was warm and firm—impossible to refuse. When they reached a quiet corner beneath a large pikul tree, he finally stopped.

The birds nearby hushed, as though the world held its breath.

He looked at the boy’s tired yet tender face.

Then he said, low and steady:

"I like you, Kham-In…"

His voice was soft, but carried the tremble of a storm.

"People may find it strange—for a man to love a man. But my heart… is still a heart. When I see you smile for someone else, when I see others looking at you… I can’t stand it."

Kham-In looked up, eyes wide and glistening. His cheeks flushed pink like cotton blooms under the sun.

He spoke quietly—but clearly:

"I… I don’t reject your feelings."

"But I’m just a servant. You’re a prince. There shouldn’t be a future for us."

Before he could look away, the Prince grasped his hand even tighter.

"Don’t judge our future by today."

"I promise you… no matter how difficult things get, no matter what this palace or kingdom may say—I will make sure… we can love openly. No more hiding."

Kham-In couldn’t hold back his tears. He nodded, silently.

Their hands remained clasped beneath the pikul tree, where blossoms fell like blessings—softly, one by one—as if fate had begun to permit their hearts to entwine.

…

Kham-In returned to the Phapang residence with calm steps—but a smile too warm to hide. In his hand was a bundle from the market, but in his heart… was a promise.

Buakes glanced at him from where she stood near a column. Her gaze gleamed with suspicion, but her voice was cold as ever.

"Well? What did you buy?"

"And the cloth? How much more have you woven?"

Kham-In handed her the bundle and replied politely.

"I completed another length today… because I wish to make this cloth as beautiful as I possibly can."

Buakes scoffed. She didn’t respond. She simply turned and walked back into her chamber—perhaps unwilling to look at that smile too long.

Kham-In stood there quietly for a while… then walked to the window. Moonlight streamed through the carved frame.

He lifted his face to the full moon above, heart blooming with warmth at the thought of a man who had made a vow beneath the tree that day.

“I will make sure… we can love openly.”

And he… would weave that promise into a cloth to wrap around his heart.

…

“The thread was close to snapping in despair,

Yet moonlight still whispered dreams in the air.

Though time may blow with winds unknown,

My heart shall weave… until love is fully sewn.”

…