Not loudly.

Not through arguments.

But through silence.

The dangerous kind of silence where both people pretend to be strong for each other.

—

Ploy stopped smiling as freely.

Ananya started overthinking every small thing.

Even happiness began feeling temporary.

Fragile.

Like something life could steal at any moment.

—

Two days later, Ploy didn’t come to the café.

At first, Ananya told herself she was busy.

Then another day passed.

Still nothing.

No calls.

No visits.

Only short replies to messages.

Ananya:

Did you eat?

Ploy:

Yes.

Ananya:

Are you okay?

Ploy:

Just tired.

Ananya:

Can I call you?

Ploy:

Later maybe.

The distance hurt more than anger would have.

Because Ananya understood immediately:

Ploy was struggling alone emotionally.

And that terrified her.

—

On the third evening, rain covered Bangkok heavily again.

The café was nearly empty.

Ananya stood near the window staring outside absentmindedly.

Her manager noticed immediately.

“You look worried.”

Ananya forced a smile.

“Just sleepy.”

Lie.

Everything lately felt like lies hiding fear.

Suddenly—the entrance bell rang.

Ananya turned instantly.

Ploy stood there.

Completely soaked from rain.

Eyes red.

Emotionally exhausted.

Without thinking, Ananya rushed toward her immediately.

“Why are you drenched?!”

Ploy tried to smile weakly.

“It started raining suddenly.”

“You could’ve called me.”

Silence.

Then quietly—

“I needed to see you.”

That sentence alone nearly broke Ananya emotionally.

She quickly grabbed a towel and pulled Ploy toward the quieter back room of the café.

“Sit.”

Ploy obeyed silently like someone too tired to fight anymore.

Ananya dried her wet hair carefully with the towel.

Gentle movements.

Soft care.

Ploy closed her eyes slowly.

This.

This feeling.

This was what peace felt like.

No judgment.

No expectations.

Only warmth.

Only Ananya.

After a few minutes, Ananya knelt beside her chair worriedly.

“What happened?”

Ploy looked down silently.

“My father took away my office responsibilities.”

Ananya frowned.

“What?”

“He said until I ‘fix my behavior,’ I shouldn’t represent the family business publicly.”

The humiliation behind those words hurt deeply.

Ananya’s chest tightened painfully.

Ploy laughed weakly.

“He looked at me like I became someone shameful.”

Immediately—Ananya held her hand tightly.

“No.”

Ploy’s eyes slowly lifted.

“You are not shameful.”

Tears filled Ploy’s eyes again instantly.

Because hearing kindness after emotional cruelty felt unbearable somehow.

Ploy whispered shakily,

“I’m trying so hard to stay strong.”

Ananya’s heart cracked.

Without hesitation, she moved closer and gently wrapped her arms around her.

Ploy immediately melted into the embrace like someone finally allowed to breathe.

For several long seconds, neither spoke.

Only rain.

Only warmth.

Only two hearts trying desperately not to fall apart.

Then softly—

Ploy whispered against her shoulder,

“What if I lose everything?”

Ananya closed her eyes painfully.

Because deep inside…

she knew Ploy already was.

Family trust.

Freedom.

Peace.

Stability.

Love was slowly costing her everything.

Still—

Ananya gently stroked her hair carefully.

“You still have me.”

That sentence shattered the last bit of strength Ploy had left.

Tears rolled silently down her face.

“Don’t say things like that.”

Ananya frowned softly.

“Why?”

“Because when you comfort me…”

Ploy laughed weakly through tears.

“…I start depending on you too much.”

Silence.

Dangerous silence.

Because both of them knew it was true.

They had become emotional homes for each other.

And homes are terrifying to lose.

—

Later that night, after the café closed, electricity suddenly went out because of the storm.

Darkness covered the room except for soft candlelight from emergency lamps.

Rain echoed outside endlessly.

Ploy sat quietly wrapped in Ananya’s oversized hoodie while drinking hot tea.

The sight nearly made Ananya smile despite everything.

“You look cute.”

Ploy blinked.

“What?”

“In my hoodie.”

Ploy looked down dramatically.

“So this is love? Emotional suffering and oversized clothing?”

Ananya laughed softly for the first time in days.

“There’s also tea.”

“Ah yes. Romance.”

Finally—Ploy smiled too.

Small.

But real.

And somehow, seeing that smile again made Ananya emotional immediately.

Because she missed it so much.

Ploy noticed her expression.

“What?”

Ananya shook her head softly.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

Then quietly—

“I just realized how sad I become when you disappear.”

Ploy’s playful expression faded slowly.

Emotion replaced it immediately.

She looked down at the tea cup in her hands.

“My father asked me to stop seeing you.”

The words entered the room like cold air.

Painful.

Sharp.

Ananya stayed silent.

Ploy continued weakly,

“For one second…”

Her voice cracked.

“…I thought maybe I should.”

Ananya’s heart stopped.

Ploy looked up immediately with tears forming again.

“But the moment I imagined life without you…”

She shook her head helplessly.

“…I couldn’t breathe properly.”

That confession hurt and healed Ananya at the same time.

Slowly—carefully—

Ananya sat beside her on the floor near the candles.

Very close.

Their shoulders touched softly.

Warmth spreading quietly between them again.

Then Ananya whispered,

“Promise me something.”

Ploy looked at her.

“If life becomes difficult…”

Ananya’s fingers slowly intertwined with hers.

“…don’t leave me alone emotionally.”

Ploy stared at her silently for several seconds.

Then slowly tightened her fingers back.

A promise.

A silent one.

And beneath candlelight, rain, fear, and heartbreak—they held onto each other like two people trying desperately to protect love before the storm became stronger.