The warmth of Ananya’s lap.

The tiny apartment.

The sound of laughter mixing with burnt noodles and rain outside.

Everything about it felt painfully precious.

Because for the first time in her life—Ploy experienced something money could never buy:

A place where she felt emotionally safe.

—

After that day, Ploy started spending more time at Ananya’s apartment whenever possible.

Not because it was luxurious.

Because it felt alive.

Some evenings they cooked terribly together.

Some nights they simply watched old Tamil movies while arguing over subtitles.

And sometimes—they just sat quietly beside each other doing nothing.

Yet somehow, even silence became meaningful between them.

—

One evening, Ananya sat cross-legged on the couch reading while Ploy rested beside her lazily.

The apartment windows were open slightly.

Bangkok night air drifted softly inside.

Ploy suddenly looked up from her phone dramatically.

“I have an important question.”

Ananya didn’t look away from the book.

“That sentence already worries me.”

“If we adopt a cat someday, what name should we give it?”

Ananya slowly lowered the book.

“You skipped directly to future family planning?”

“This is serious.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Ploy grinned proudly.

“I think the cat should respect our emotional journey.”

“That poor animal already sounds exhausted.”

Ploy laughed loudly before suddenly leaning against Ananya’s shoulder again.

Warm.

Comfortable.

Natural.

Ananya’s fingers automatically moved into her hair gently.

Neither even realized how naturally they cared for each other now.

Like love had slowly become habit.

Beautiful habit.

Dangerous habit.

—

After several quiet minutes, Ploy looked up suddenly.

“What are you reading?”

“A poetry book.”

“Read something for me.”

Ananya smiled softly.

“You’ll tease me.”

“I’ll behave.”

“That’s impossible.”

Still smiling, Ananya looked down at the page before reading quietly:

“Some people arrive softly, not to change our lives loudly—but to make loneliness leave silently.”

Silence filled the room afterward.

Ploy stared at her quietly.

Emotion entering her eyes immediately.

Ananya noticed and laughed weakly.

“See? You became emotional already.”

But Ploy didn’t laugh.

Instead, she whispered softly,

“That’s exactly what you did to me.”

The words entered Ananya’s heart gently.

Deeply.

She closed the book slowly.

Sometimes Ploy spoke with such honesty that it physically hurt to hear.

Because every word felt real.

Every feeling felt permanent.

And permanent things were terrifying.

—

Suddenly—Ploy’s phone vibrated loudly again.

The atmosphere changed instantly.

Both girls froze slightly.

Fear had trained them already.

Ploy looked down at the screen.

Unknown number.

She answered carefully.

“Yes?”

A woman’s voice spoke politely from the other side.

“Miss Ploypailin? I’m calling regarding tomorrow evening’s family dinner.”

Ploy frowned.

“What dinner?”

“Your father arranged a private dinner with the Wattanakul family.”

The room became silent immediately.

Ananya slowly looked away.

Ploy’s chest tightened painfully.

“I never agreed to this.”

“Your father confirmed your attendance already.”

The call ended shortly after.

But the damage remained.

Heavy silence settled across the apartment again.

The warmth from moments earlier disappeared too quickly.

Ploy threw the phone onto the couch frustratedly.

“He’s not even asking anymore.”

Ananya stayed quiet.

Too quiet.

Ploy noticed immediately.

“No.”

Ananya looked at her softly.

“What?”

“Don’t start disappearing emotionally again.”

That sentence hit instantly.

Because the fear had already returned to Ananya’s eyes.

Ploy moved closer carefully.

“Look at me.”

Slowly, Ananya did.

Ploy’s expression softened immediately seeing the sadness there.

“It’s just dinner.”

“But it means something.”

“I know.”

Silence.

Then quietly—

“What if your family never stops?”

Ploy exhaled shakily.

“Then I’ll keep fighting.”

Ananya’s eyes filled slowly again.

Because hearing someone choose love so stubbornly felt overwhelming.

Beautiful.

And painful.

Ploy gently held her hand.

“I’m tired too, you know.”

Ananya’s heart cracked instantly.

Ploy smiled weakly.

“Sometimes I wish we could pause the world for one year.”

Ananya laughed softly through sadness.

“What would we do?”

Ploy leaned her head against Ananya’s shoulder.

“Nothing important.”

Then quietly—

“Just exist together peacefully.”

That simple dream somehow sounded more heartbreaking than impossible fantasies.

Because all they wanted was ordinary happiness.

And even that felt difficult now.

—

Later that night, they stood together near the apartment balcony watching Bangkok lights quietly.

The city looked beautiful from above.

But tonight—everything felt uncertain again.

Ploy suddenly wrapped her arms gently around Ananya from behind.

Resting her chin softly against her shoulder.

Ananya closed her eyes immediately.

Comfort.

Home.

Love.

All in one embrace.

Ploy whispered softly near her ear,

“If tomorrow hurts me…”

Her fingers tightened slightly around Ananya’s waist.

“…promise you’ll still hold me like this after.”

Ananya turned slowly within her arms.

Their faces close beneath the city lights.

Then gently—without hesitation—she held Ploy’s face carefully.

“As many times as you need.”

Tears immediately filled Ploy’s eyes again.

Because no matter how frightening life became—Ananya still loved her gently.

Completely.

Respectfully.

And deep inside—both of them already knew:

Tomorrow’s dinner was going to change something forever.