Suvarnabhumi Airport | Bangkok | 2025
The flight announcements echoed faintly from a speaker tucked in the corner of the terminal.
Names of international airlines flashed across the monitor in Thai, English, and Chinese, cycling through languages just as passengers flowed in and out—some rushing with rolling suitcases, others standing still with flower bouquets in hand.
Amidst this sea of voices and footsteps, stood Chansongla, her deep navy silk dress adorned with intricate silver-thread embroidery, paired with an ivory shawl draped over one shoulder. Her jet-black hair was elegantly tied up. A gentle smile touched her lips.
By her side was Primpri, in an oversized white shirt and ripped pale jeans, thrown over with a favorite tailored blazer—practical and bold, as always. She was Inn’s steadfast right hand in all things fashion.
On the other side stood Luna, clad in a soft white cotton dress with pleated skirts down to her ankles. She wore a handmade wooden-bead necklace and carried a handwoven bag from Chiang Mai.
Chansongla glanced at the screen showing the arrival gate.
Primpri waved her hand excitedly.
“He’s out—there he is!”
All three leaned forward, eyes scanning the stream of passengers walking through the gate.
And among them—
Inn, formerly Kham-In in his past life, pushed a sleek black suitcase with one hand and slung a thin laptop bag over his shoulder. His oversized white shirt and light linen trousers exuded both ease and taste—echoes of Parisian fashion sensibilities acquired abroad.
A sharp jawline, pink-tinged skin, and bright, confident eyes—this was a man shaped by the world, but now returning home to begin again.
When he spotted the three waiting figures, a wide smile bloomed on his face, crinkling his eyes. He let go of the cart and walked straight toward them.
Without a word, he embraced his mother tightly.
“I missed you so much.”
His voice was low, threaded with tenderness rarely shown by a grown son.
“Thank you for coming to get me,” he murmured as he pulled back, flashing warm smiles at Primpri and Luna before wrapping each of them in brief but heartfelt hugs.
“Of course we came!” Primpri laughed, giving his arm a playful smack.
“Not gonna thank me for keeping your brand alive while you were off gallivanting in Europe?”
Inn chuckled softly, rubbing his arm where she hit him.
“I’m serious—without you two, the Bangkok store and the online sales would’ve crashed for sure.”
Luna tilted her head, offering a soft smile.
“We just kept it afloat. You’re the soul of the brand.”
Inn turned to his mother, gently clasping her hand. His lips pressed into a line, then softened into a smile full of gratitude.
“And thank you, Mom… for supporting me in everything.”
Chansongla’s eyes gleamed with pride and unconditional love. She stroked his hair with deep affection.
“Do whatever your heart desires, son. I’ll always be here, cheering you on.”
For a moment, time itself seemed to pause. The fatigue of travel melted away. Inn was home—and with that came a new beginning.
“Alright, alright,” Primpri clapped her hands once, grinning.
“We’re all about to cry here—let’s go eat something nice to celebrate our boy’s return!”
“Agreed!” Luna nodded eagerly.
“I’m so hungry I could eat a suitcase.”
Their laughter rose gently over the bustle of the airport. For Inn, it was the most beautiful sound in the world.
Late Afternoon | A Modern Thai Restaurant in Sukhumvit
Soft golden light filtered through tall glass panes, casting a warm glow on the minimalist dining space. Beyond the windows, rows of towering buildings framed the city skyline—an urban backdrop to a table set with bold Thai flavors and quiet dreams.
A round oak table was neatly arranged with vibrant dishes:
Steaming Khao Soi with tender beef shank, served with a full set of sides.
Southern-style crab curry rice noodles, rich and creamy, topped with chunks of fresh crab.
And for dessert, crispy roti with coconut ice cream, garnished with black sticky rice.
The scent of curry paste and fresh herbs lingered gently in the air, mingling with the laughter of four close companions seated around the table.
Primpri blew softly on her spoonful of noodles before turning to Inn.
“So what’s next, Inn? The brand’s doing great online, your custom clients are happy, but...?”
Inn gave a small smile, placing his spoon beside the bowl and leaning back in his seat.
“But I want more than that.”
Luna, stirring her noodles, looked up with a slight frown.
“More than being successful?”
Inn nodded, his eyes clear and focused.
“I want the brand to really mean something—to be known not just for sales or custom orders. I want people to see the intention behind every thread we weave.”
Primpri’s smile widened. She set her spoon down with a soft click.
“Got a plan?”
Inn’s smile was small, but his gaze was bright with determination.
“I’m entering the Young Fashion Designer competition.”
The table fell silent for a brief moment. Then, Primpri and Luna clapped at the same time, grinning wide.
“Perfect! You’ve got this,” Primpri beamed.
“This year’s theme is couple’s wear, right?” Luna added.
Inn nodded.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to use the typical Thai silk or traditional motifs. It’s been done a thousand times.”
The conversation paused.
Primpri squinted, resting her chin on one hand like a sly cat.
“Say… after all those years in France, you mean to tell me no handsome foreign guy ever tried to sweep you off your feet?”
Inn burst out laughing, reaching for his glass of water.
“There were a few. But not my type.”
“What?!” Luna’s eyes widened.
“Seriously? All those tall, lean, godlike guys—and not even a little tempted?”
Inn shrugged.
“Too tall. My neck hurts just thinking about it.”
The table erupted in laughter.
“That is so you,” Primpri gasped between chuckles.
“No foreign flings, huh? Gotta be someone local—someone real?”
Inn rolled his eyes playfully.
“I don’t know what kind of person. I just want someone who understands what I do.”
At last, Chansongla, who had been quietly listening, spoke up in her gentle, sincere tone.
“You’re all grown now, Inn. Just… don’t drown in work too much.”
Inn glanced at her with a soft smile.
“You know it’s a busy time, Mom…”
“Still,” she interrupted calmly, “I want a son-in-law already. Maybe then I can stop praying for one every night.”
The whole table burst into another round of laughter.
Primpri leaned in, teasing.
“Pressure’s on now. You’ve got one year to find someone—or else your mom’s temple visits are going to triple.”
Luna giggled.
“Should we get a fortune-teller to check your love life, Auntie?”
Chansongla pretended to consider it.
“Maybe we should. Sometimes karma from the past can weigh down your love life—making you meet the wrong ones over and over.”
Inn smiled—but inside, he almost laughed.
(If only they knew just how heavy that past really was…)
The food slowly disappeared from the plates, replaced by conversations about fashion shows, Thai textiles, and emerging global trends.
The sunlight spilled softly across the table, mingling with silverware clinks and warm laughter.
It was the beginning of something new—woven with hope and quiet courage.
Late Afternoon | Parking Lot of a Sukhumvit Complex
The sun had dipped lower, but the pavement still held onto the warmth of the day.
Inn walked alongside Luna, Primpri, and Chansongla, heading toward the car parked at the far end of the lot.
They chatted lightly as they walked, teasing Inn about his “future boyfriend” while their laughter mingled with the hum of the city.
But as they neared the vehicle, Inn patted his pocket—and froze.
“…My wallet. I left it at the table.”
“What?!” Luna gasped.
“Go! Hurry, we’ll wait here,” Primpri urged.
“Careful—it’d suck if someone picked it up,” she added.
Inn said nothing more. He spun around and jogged back toward the restaurant, sneakers thudding softly against the concrete.
His mind was racing—not with panic, but with an obsessive replay of what was inside: ID cards, credit cards, a decent wad of cash he’d withdrawn just this morning…
As he stepped back into the restaurant—
Their table was already cleared. Clean. Reset. New customers now sat there, chatting casually.
Inn stopped short, eyebrows furrowed.
And then his eyes caught something.
Near the counter, not far from their old table, stood a man in a black linen shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to the elbows, paired with dark slacks. He stood still. Quiet.
In his hand—Inn’s wallet.
Time seemed to stutter.
Soft sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm sheen across the polished floors.
For a brief second, the entire world seemed muted.
Inn’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t quite explain why.
The man wasn’t movie-star handsome. But there was something… cold, composed, still.
His gaze—sharp and steady—wasn’t hostile, but it struck a chord so deep that it made Inn's heart tense without reason.
Singh looked up, eyes locking with his.
No smile. No flourish. He simply held the wallet up a little and said in a low, even tone:
“Yours.”
“You dropped it when you got up. I saw it and held onto it.”
His voice—deep, slightly hoarse—rang oddly familiar.
Inn blinked, slowly, as if trying to clear a fog over his senses.
But as clarity returned, instinct took over—wariness flaring like a sudden shield.
He glanced at the wallet… then at the man’s face again.
That face—so composed it bordered on emotionless. Yet deep in his eyes… something stirred.
Something pressing and quiet, like a weight on the chest.
Inn reached out and took the wallet cautiously, his words coming out sharper than he’d meant.
“…Thanks. But next time, don’t touch other people’s stuff.”
Singh didn’t argue. He said nothing at all.
He simply let Inn snatch the wallet from his hand and watched him turn away.
Inn walked off without a second glance.
Behind him, the man in the linen shirt remained standing—motionless—his expression unreadable.
Then, Singh’s lips curled into a faint smile.
As if he already knew…
This wouldn’t be the last time they’d meet.
He looked down at his now-empty hand, as if still feeling the warmth of that brief contact.
Later | Back at the Car
The parking lot glowed in the afternoon light. Engines rumbled as cars slowly pulled out of their spots.
Luna leaned against the car door, chatting with Primpri and Chansongla while they waited for Inn.
Soon, he returned—walking briskly, face calm but eyes slightly clouded.
“You took your time,” Primpri commented, eyebrow raised.
“Did you stop to shop for a new one instead?” Luna teased.
Inn rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. He opened the back door and tossed the wallet onto the seat like it was a hot coal.
“Some random guy picked it up and wouldn’t give it back.”
“No way,” Luna gasped.
“Yep. I walked in, saw him holding it. He just stood there, all calm like he didn’t want to return it. It pissed me off,” Inn grumbled.
“So I just told him, ‘Thanks—but next time, don’t mess with other people’s stuff.’”
Primpri crossed her arms, full of righteous support.
“Good. Don’t trust strangers.”
Luna nodded.
“People can be shady these days—watch out.”
Inn nodded, but deep inside, he still wasn’t settled.
That faint smile... that stillness... that stare.
It wasn’t fear he’d felt.
It was something else—a strange, almost ancient familiarity.
Chansongla spoke at last, her voice soft and laced with quiet concern.
“Let’s go home, son. At least you got it back.”
Inn forced a smile.
“Yeah, Mom.”
He climbed into the driver’s seat. Primpri and Luna hopped into the back.
The car doors slammed shut. The engine started.
They pulled out slowly into the golden light.
Inn glanced in the rearview mirror—just once.
There, still near the restaurant’s entrance, stood that same man.
Singh.
His profile sharp in the sunlight, his eyes watching.
Deep. Still.
As if he'd known Inn… for far longer than just today.
Inn’s heart thudded once—hard. His fingers tightened on the wheel.
That voice. That gaze. That silence.
It looped in his mind without explanation.
He whispered to himself:
“…It’s nothing.”
But his heart refused to believe it.
Twilight fell over the city.
Uncertainty lingered, yet so did a quiet sense of déjà vu.
Like a thread once snapped… was slowly finding its way back home.
...
Twilight faded into gray,
yet my heart still wandered astray—
drawn to a face I thought unknown,
but felt… I’d seen it long ago.
A single glance, sharp as a blade,
yet laced with silence softly laid.
Was it time’s thread that wrapped me tight,
binding the past to present light?
Though words were few, and cold, and brief,
his voice stirred echoes… old as grief.
Like something long-lost called my name,
from dreams where we once loved the same.
So even if I turned away,
my soul had stayed—too loud to say.
A tether tugged where none was tied…
a knowing ache I could not hide.
...
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