Soft.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

Inside the café, silence wrapped painfully around both of them after Ananya’s words.

“Maybe we should stop before things become worse.”

Even now, the sentence still echoed painfully between them.

Ploy stood near the window wiping tears from her cheeks while trying desperately to breathe normally again.

Ananya hated herself for causing this pain.

Because every tear in Ploy’s eyes felt like her own heart breaking too.

—

For several long seconds, neither moved.

Then finally—Ananya stepped closer slowly.

Carefully.

Like someone approaching shattered glass afraid of causing more damage.

“Ploy…”

Her voice trembled weakly.

Ploy looked away immediately.

Not because she was angry.

Because if she looked at Ananya too long right now—

she would forgive her instantly.

And that vulnerability terrified her.

Ananya’s eyes filled again.

“I didn’t mean I stopped loving you.”

Ploy laughed softly through tears.

“That’s the problem.”

Silence.

Then quietly—

“You love me so much that you’re willing to destroy yourself emotionally trying to protect me.”

The truth hurt.

Because it was real.

Ananya lowered her head helplessly.

“My mind keeps thinking about your family.”

“My heart keeps thinking about you.”

That answer came immediately.

Without hesitation.

Without fear.

And somehow, that honesty made Ananya cry harder.

—

Ploy slowly walked toward the small table near the window and sat down weakly.

Emotionally exhausted.

Ananya followed quietly before sitting beside her.

Not too close at first.

Giving space.

Respecting pain.

Ploy stared outside at the rain-covered Bangkok streets.

Then softly—

“Do you know what scares me most?”

Ananya shook her head silently.

“That one day…”

Ploy’s voice cracked slightly.

“…you’ll become so busy protecting me that you’ll forget I never asked you to sacrifice us.”

The sentence entered Ananya’s heart painfully.

Deeply.

Because she finally understood something important:

Ploy didn’t want a perfect future.

She just didn’t want to fight alone.

Ananya slowly moved closer.

Their shoulders touched gently again.

Warmth returning little by little.

Then quietly—

“I’m sorry.”

Ploy closed her eyes briefly.

“You already said that.”

“I know.”

Another tear slipped down Ananya’s cheek.

“But I need you to know…”

Her voice weakened emotionally.

“…losing you scares me more than society.”

Ploy’s expression softened immediately.

God.

How could this girl break her heart and heal it at the same time?

Slowly—Ploy turned toward her.

Their faces close again.

Too close for people trying to protect themselves emotionally.

Ploy whispered softly,

“Then stay.”

Simple word.

Heavy meaning.

Ananya looked at her silently.

Ploy’s eyes shimmered with tears beneath the café lights.

“Stay beside me.”

Another tear rolled down her face.

“Even if life becomes difficult.”

Ananya’s chest tightened painfully.

Because suddenly—all the fear inside her became smaller than the thought of losing this person.

Slowly, carefully—she reached forward and intertwined their fingers together again.

A silent answer.

Ploy looked down at their hands for several seconds before smiling weakly through tears.

“There you are.”

That sentence almost destroyed Ananya emotionally.

Because she didn’t realize until now how far fear had pulled her away emotionally.

Ananya rested her forehead gently against Ploy’s shoulder.

“I’m tired too.”

Immediately, Ploy softened completely.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Ananya carefully.

Protectively.

And for the first time in days—Ananya allowed herself to simply be weak.

No pretending.

No strength.

Only honesty.

Only exhaustion.

Only love.

—

Minutes passed quietly like that.

Rain.

Warmth.

Breathing.

Two hearts slowly calming each other again.

Then suddenly—Ploy spoke softly:

“Let’s run away.”

Ananya lifted her head immediately.

“What?”

Ploy smiled tiredly.

“I’m joking.”

Pause.

Then quietly—

“…maybe a little serious.”

Despite everything, Ananya laughed through tears.

“You wouldn’t survive one week without luxury.”

“Excuse me. I can emotionally adapt.”

“You complained because my pillow was too small.”

“It attacked my neck.”

Ananya laughed again.

Real laughter this time.

And hearing it made Ploy smile too.

Because after all the crying—that sound felt precious.

Necessary.

Alive.

—

Later, the café lights dimmed further as midnight approached.

Ploy rested comfortably beside Ananya on the couch near the window.

Their fingers still loosely intertwined.

Neither wanted to let go first anymore.

Ploy suddenly whispered sleepily,

“Can I ask something selfish again?”

Ananya smiled softly.

“You ask selfish things very politely.”

“Talent.”

“What is it?”

Ploy hesitated for a moment.

Then quietly—

“If one day we really lose everything…”

Her thumb gently brushed against Ananya’s fingers.

“…will you still choose me?”

The question filled the room softly.

Emotionally.

Painfully.

Ananya turned toward her fully.

No hesitation this time.

No fear.

Only truth.

“Yes.”

Ploy’s eyes immediately filled again.

Ananya smiled weakly.

“You’re crying again too.”

“You started it.”

“I think we’re emotionally unstable together.”

Ploy laughed quietly.

“Probably.”

Then softly—

“…but I’ve never felt more loved in my life.”

Silence settled warmly around them again.

And beneath the rain-covered Bangkok night—

two hearts that almost let fear separate them chose something difficult instead:

To stay.

Even when staying hurt.