Vamika: (coldly)

"If my son isn't staying here... you won't see me here either."

Mr. Pong: (startled, sighs deeply)

"Honey, please... don't say things like that. You're upset, I understand. But it's not what you think."

She turned around slowly, her eyes glassy with both anger and pain.

Mrs. Vamika:

"You think I don't know what's happening in this house? I see everything, Pong. Wichian isn't the kind of boy who can be hated so easily. He's calm... kind-hearted... soft-spoken. That boy tries, Pong. He tries to be accepted. But Sorawit-he's blinded. Blinded by his own insecurities and the belief that I've chosen Wichian over him."

Mr. Pong: (carefully)

"I know, I know. But Sorawit's just confused. Hurt, maybe. He thinks you've replaced him."

Mrs. Vamika: (tearing up but standing firm)

"I haven't replaced anyone! All I did was ask him to open his heart just a little. Just a little... Is that too much?"

Mr. Pong:

"You know what? I'll prove it to him. I'll show Wit that I still care-deeply. That I'm still his mother too. But I won't abandon my own son for the sake of his tantrums."

Mrs. Vamika:

"And you think this plan of yours will work?"

Mr. Pong:

"Wichian's goodness... his patience-it will reach Sorawit eventually. He just needs time. Two months, Pong. Give them two months under one roof. Sooner or later, Wit will see what I see in Wichian. He'll understand. He'll stop seeing him as a threat and start seeing him as a brother."

Mrs. Vamika: (quietly, after a pause)

"And if he doesn't?"

Mrs. Vamika's expression faltered. Her lips parted but no words came. She hadn't thought that far. Pong looked at her, his voice dropping into a firmer, colder tone.

Mr. Pong:

"If, after everything... Wit still refuses to accept Wichian... I'll handle it."

Mrs. Vamika: (worried)

"Pong... what do you mean by that?"

Mr. Pong: (looking away)

"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

------

After Wit stormed off to his room and Mr. Pong had finally cleared things with Mrs. Vamika, the dinner table fell into a heavy, lingering silence.

Wichian quietly sat with his mother and stepfather, picking at the last bites of his meal. The air was thick with unspoken tension - until his phone rang, breaking the stillness.

He glanced at the screen.

Principal (Calling)

Wichian quickly picked it up.

"Hello, ma'am. Is everything alright? It's quite late."

Her warm voice responded,

"Nothing to worry about, Wichian. I just finished reviewing the presentation you emailed me."

A pause.

"It was outstanding. With work like this, I'm confident you'll stand a strong chance at winning the competition."

Wichian blinked, surprised.

"Thank you, ma'am. That means a lot."

"Just make sure you present it well. The content's already a winner."

"I will. Thank you again."

As the call ended, he looked up to find both Vamika and Mr. Pong staring at him with curiosity in their eyes.

"That was my principal," Wichian explained softly. "She called about the upcoming presentation I submitted for the interschool competition."

Mr. Pong's brows lifted in surprise.

"You're participating in a competition?" He turned to Vamika. "Honey, why didn't you tell me?"

"I was planning to tell you after he won," she said with a small smile.

But Pong shook his head gently.

"No, no. Winning is never the point. What matters is putting your heart into it. Doing your best, without regrets."

He turned to Wichian, voice warm and firm.

"Wichian, listen to me. No matter what happens, give it everything you've got. That alone is a victory. And once you're done with your presentation - we'll go out and celebrate. Deal?"

Wichian's chest tightened. That voice - calm, assuring, fatherly - wasn't something he grew up with. His biological father had never spoken to him that way. Never offered this kind of unwavering support.

Somewhere deep inside, Wichian had always yearned for a father's love - and unexpectedly, he was finding it here, in the man who was once just "Wit's dad."

He glanced down for a moment, then back up with a quiet, shy smile. His voice came out softer than he intended, thick with emotion he tried hard to hide.

"...Thank you."

And though he wanted to say more - to tell Mr. Pong how much it meant, how much he appreciated him - he held it back.

Because Sorawit was still in this house.

And loving Mr. Pong out loud... felt like betraying him.

--------

After dinner, Wichian quietly slipped away to his room. The soft click of the door behind him felt louder than it should have.

His laptop screen still glowed in the dark, left open on the email he had just sent to his principal. The subject line sat there like a quiet reminder of what he had done right today - but even that didn't feel like enough tonight.

He stared at it blankly, zoned out. His mind wasn't on the email anymore.

It was on what he had overheard earlier...

Two months.

Just two months left, and he'd be expected to leave this house.

Leave... them.

A dull ache settled in his chest. Not anger - just the kind of sadness that comes when you've tried so hard to belong, only to be reminded that you never fully did.

His shoulders slumped as he let out a long, tired sigh.

He shut the laptop slowly, as though the weight of his thoughts had soaked into the keys. The room fell darker as he switched off the lights, save for the faint silver moonlight seeping through the curtain.

Wichian lay down on his bed, arms at his sides, eyes open wide.

He stared up at the ceiling - blank, endless - just like the thoughts running through his head.

The silence was loud. The kind that wraps around you like a second skin.

He didn't cry. He didn't move.

He just waited... until the heaviness in his eyes pulled him under, and sleep finally claimed what his heart couldn't carry anymore.

---------

The Next Day at School:

In the 10th-grade hallway, Sorawit stood near his locker, surrounded by his closest friends - Tor and Pete. The morning buzzed with student chatter, but Wit's voice was sharper, louder, charged with something bitter beneath the surface.

"So your dad really gave him just two months?" Pete asked, eyebrows raised in stunned excitement. "That means Wichian's gonna be out of your house soon?"

Wit smirked proudly. "Yep. My dad only cares about me. When he realized I wasn't okay with Wichian living with us, he promised-once Wichian finishes school, he'll make him move out."

"Damn," Pete laughed, "that's intense... but good for you, I guess."

"Exactly," Wit said, the satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "I'll finally have my dad all to myself."

Tor nodded, but then hesitated. "But... what if Wichian doesn't leave? Would he really stay away from his mom? Or... Will he go away along with his mom?"

Wit paused. His voice dropped lower, colder.

"NO!  He has to go alone."

He clenched his jaw for a second before continuing.

"I already lost my mom once," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not losing her again. I need both of them - my dad and my mom Vamika. For me."

Tor and Pete stared at him, caught off-guard by the depth in his words.

"...Wait," Tor said cautiously. "You mean... you see your stepmom as your real mom?"

Wit nodded, eyes distant but unwavering.

"Yes. I like her. The way she cares about me, remembers the little things... the food I like, the colors I wear. She sees me - even when my own dad forgets to. She treats both of us like we matter."

He turned sharply toward them, voice firm.

"whatever happens, they are my parents. Not his. If someone has to step back... it's Wichian."

Tor and Pete exchanged a tense look.

Did Wit even realize what he was doing?

Stealing Wichian's mother away from him?

Making him... an orphan?

What had Wichian really done to deserve this?

There was a pause before Pete spoke again, more cautiously this time.

"So... For now you are going to stop messing with him, like your dad asked. Right? Especially with that presentation coming up?"

The shift in Wit's expression was immediate. The softness disappeared, replaced by something sharper - darker. A wicked glint lit up in his eyes.

"Who said I'm done?" he said, voice low and smug. "You think I'll let him walk away just like that?"

Pete's jaw tightened. "Wit, seriously. What if your dad finds out? He might change his mind about sending Wichian away."

Wit shrugged, that crooked smile returning.

"He won't. If Wichian couldn't figure out what I did... how would my dad?"

Tor looked uneasy now.

"Wait - what did you do?"

Wit grinned, like he'd been waiting for someone to ask.

"What did I do?" he echoed, smirking wider. "I already did it."

Just then, the teacher walked into the classroom, calling the students to attention. The bell rang, cutting off the conversation - but the tension between the three boys didn't fade. Tor and Pete stared at Wit, still unsure if they were witnessing revenge... or something much darker.