37.

BLUE POV NOW


"Yes, I'm heading to the airport now. I'm changing planes in Seoul... yeah. I'll probably takea taxi from here," I said, tilting my head to hold the phone against my shoulder while stuffingmy voice down. I tried to fold my clothes as small as possible and cram them into my largesuitcase.

Mom was incredibly excited to know I was returning to Thailand a week earlier than plannedbecause I'd managed to clear up my exams in advance. And it would be better to be back intime for the first week of classes; it's a pretty light week, mostly professors introducingthemselves and explaining their grading systems.

"What happened? Why are you coming back early?" Mom asked after learning I'd changedmy flight.

"I miss home," was the simplest answer I could give, and it made Mom incredibly happy,even though she followed up with several more chattering comments.

"Eat something first, dear. You've got a long flight ahead of you."

"I'll grab something at the airport," I frowned, struggling to stuff a shirt into a lumpy, wrinkledball instead of its neatly folded form.

I didn't think I'd bought that much clothing, but why does my luggage seem so much biggeron the way back? Or maybe it's not that much more-just a few extra items-but I'm aterrible packer compared to Mom's expert folding.

Mom said a few more things before hanging up-the usual reminders to text when I arrive inIncheon and Bangkok, and when the plane takes off. My SIM card will be useless once I'mairborne. If I find Wi-Fi, maybe I can chat or play games to kill time while waiting to changeplanes. Otherwise, I'll just be sitting bored for another hour before trying to sleep on theplane until I reach Thailand.

Going abroad is always boring. The whole process is a tedious cycle of queuing, scanning,lugging bags, waiting, waiting some more, then waiting again on the plane. Days melt awayinto inactivity.

I've never liked airports.

So many thoughts crowding my mind, yet none of them take concrete form.

It's a feeling of loss, a hollow ache spreading from my chest to my stomach.

One blink, and I'll be asleep in my Ikea bed at home. Another blink, and I'll be queuing forfood at university. Everything that happened here will gradually fade from memory. In five orten years, I might struggle to recall Jasper's or Audrey's name. After a while, if I trysearching on Google Maps, I might not even remember the way back to the apartment.

Time isn't scary... it just quietly fades away without us even realizing it.

I slowly exhale, trying to release the strange pressure building inside me. I zip up mysuitcase and lift the heavy bag from the bed. I glance around Anwar's room; there's nothingleft, nothing visible at least. Apart from my clothes, there isn't much of importance. Most of itis stuff I bought here: toothbrush, toothpaste, razor. Things I can easily replace back inThailand.

As I leave the room, I make eye contact with someone else sitting there. Jordan, his cheekresting on his hand. His face is turned toward a large television screen. He looks at me, thenat the suitcase in my hand.

"Moving out already?"

I don't talk to Jordan much, even though we see each other often. He seems playful, yetsimultaneously quiet. Probably the type who only laughs heartily with close friends.

"Yes,"

I replied curtly, then walked over to the bar counter, trying to decide whether I should leave amessage for Anwar and the others or just send a text.

After returning to Thailand, I didn't think I needed Instagram or any other social mediabesides Line. I talk to my family on Line, and to my friends in group chats on Line as well.This probably meant I wouldn't keep in touch with Audrey, Hazel, or anyone else exceptChen, whose Line ID I had.

In the end, I didn't leave any message. Maybe because I wasn't close enough to Jordan,maybe because I didn't know what to say.

"I'm going," I said vaguely. I waited until Jordan looked up and nodded, wishing me a goodday, before dragging my suitcase down from the second floor.

Everything felt empty, hollow in every movement, every action.

My feet stopped on the stairs when I saw the door open. Anwar stood motionless a fewmeters away, his handsome face pale, his beautiful eyes slightly wide when our eyes met.

In his hand... he held a small bouquet of flowers.

I'm not very knowledgeable about flowers, so I didn't know what kind they were, but the blueand white blossoms were beautifully arranged in a brown paper wrapper.

They were pretty.

"Hey," he greeted, walking closer until he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Our eyes wereat the same level since I was standing on the stairs.

"Hey," I replied with the same word, offering a small smile as I accepted the flowers. "Ithought you were leaving tomorrow."

It sounded like a clumsy sentence, especially in this situation.

But I did think he was leaving tomorrow.

"I left before the crew," he replied, his eyes dropping to my bag. He was silent for a moment."I just came back after work."

"Oh."

"Where are you going?" He looked up at me.

"I... I'm going to the airport."

"To the airport?"

"I have to leave. My flight's today." Anwar fell silent at my answer. He stared at me for amoment.

Then he blinked slowly.

"What time?"

"This afternoon."

It was all so awkward.

His expression and tone made me feel weak.

Anwar looked lost, his beautiful eyes glancing at various things without focusing on anythingin particular.

"Anwar," I murmured, a dull ache in my chest. A strange feeling constricted my heart, makingit hard to breathe.

The reason I decided to leave today was precisely to avoid seeing this look on his face.

"Can I give you a ride?"

I looked down at my feet, my white and grey New Balance sneakers. There was no decisionmade.

Giving me a ride or not, at this point, it wouldn't make much difference.

Maybe spending that last bit of time together, even just an hour or two, might be nice.

"Okay."

"Can I help you with your bags?"

"I'm good," I nodded again, letting Anwar approach to take my suitcase. He carried it himself,leaving only my backpack and a wooden box that I was carrying. I discreetly observed him.He turned towards the door, so I only saw the side of his face and the back of his neck; Icouldn't tell what expression he had.

Anwar shoved my suitcase into the back seat, opened the passenger door, and closed itbefore walking around to the driver's side. He placed both hands on the steering wheel, hiseyes fixed on something unblinking, like someone lost in thought.

I didn't want to flatter myself, but was my departure that shocking to him? Did it affect him somuch that he reacted like this? Showed this kind of expression?

The fleeting thought that I was important made my heart flutter. Anwar constantly furrowedhis brow slightly. If only I could read minds.

I turned my face away, trying to look at anything else without saying anything. Severalminutes passed before he slowly started the car. The R&B music was turned down to almosta whisper. Anwar sat silently, absorbed in looking straight ahead. I was the one to break thesilence after almost ten minutes. The atmosphere in the car felt like time was warped, as ifI'd been there for an hour.

"I... I thought you were going back next week," Anwar murmured without looking at me."I changed my mind," I replied flatly, trying to suppress all the strange, churning feelingsrising in my throat, constricting my voice until I could barely speak. "I didn't want to miss thefirst week of university."

"Have you changed your plans for a long time?"

"Since you went to Northern Ireland."

"Didn't you think to tell me?" Anwar glanced at me while the car was stopped at a red light.The sadness in his eyes made me avoid his gaze.

"..." And I couldn't answer the question either.

"That's so cruel, you know," His soft reproach made me let out a thin smile.

"I know," My smile faltered as I realized I was baring my teeth instead of the smile Iintended. "It's just like you, isn't it?"

I thought back to Anwar's message from last night. He'd asked if I wanted to go anywhere. Ithought it was just a preemptive question for when he returned in two days.

I didn't answer his question. And I didn't reply to the message...

Anwar held my gaze until the light turned green. He then looked back at the road andcontinued driving.

No excuses, no arguments, no questions about what I said. Only the sadness in his eyes,which he didn't try to hide, was palpable.

Silence hung in the car until we reached JFK airport. I still had plenty of time to grabsomething to eat and just sit around. After taking care of my luggage and boarding passes, Ichose to sit at Dunkin'. We ordered some donuts-stupidly, we ate three or four each-andthen stared at each other for a while.

"You can go and rest. Thank you so much for bringing me," I said, forcing the words out.Anwar looked at me like I was some kind of alien-like he'd just heard something bizarre.

He shook his head slightly. "If I asked to stay until you leave, would you allow it?"

Allow it?

If he wanted to stay, he would have stayed already. There was no need for him to ask mypermission at all.

"Anwar, are you angry that I didn't tell you beforehand?" I finally asked the question that hadbeen bothering me.

I didn't want to leave with this question hanging over me.

It made me feel uncomfortable and uneasy.

Anwar offered a small smile. He shook his head again. "Why would I be angry with you?Maybe I deserve this," It was a smile that held a considerable amount of self-pity, not unlikemy own smile a short while ago.

I took a deep breath and tried to finish my donut.

"Will you come back here again, in the future?" Anwar's question surprised me because he'dnever asked me about the future before.

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it," I admitted honestly. I hadn't thought about anythingexcept finishing my university studies.

New York? I might not come back here again. My family doesn't really like going back to thesame places repeatedly. If we go abroad, we should go to many places. Gain experiences.

Go places we've never been. This time, if I study another language, I might be... I don'tknow. Maybe another state in America, far away from here.

"And would you want to come back?" He rephrased his question.

Would I want to come back...

I didn't know how to answer. Did I want to, or didn't I?

"You want me to come back?" I smiled faintly before asking again, "Do you want me to comeback?"

He chuckled softly. "Of course I do. Even now, I don't want you to leave."

I wasn't angry or annoyed with myself for feeling happy about what he said, but thathappiness wasn't expressed to him.

"How was Northern Ireland with Jamie?" I changed the subject. Lately, we'd talked about thisso often it had become mundane.

It had become a mundane topic, one of the many that had faded away, leaving nothing left totalk about. It made me wonder what we had talked about so much before.

"It's over. He's moving on."

"You mean you're not talking anymore?"

"We're just acquaintances now."

"He agreed to end things?"

Anwar shifted slightly. "It took days to calm him down. Once he was ready to listen, it waseasy. He said it himself, that he'd moved on. And that's what it is."

I raised an eyebrow slightly, stood up from the chair, and walked out of the shop, my tallcompanion hurrying to keep up. "And how are you?"

"About what?"

"About Jamie."

"I guess... relieved," Anwar frowned, seeming uncertain of his answer.

I couldn't remember how I felt when things ended with P'Phim. It might not be comparable toAnwar's situation, but did I feel this relieved back then?

"So, you really did sleep alone the whole trip?" I teased, glancing at him before starting towalk ahead. When I'm worried, I tend to fidget, so I started moving again, but my heavy bagacross my shoulder made me stop. We stood hidden behind a large pillar, watching peoplego by.

"Slept alone, but..." He hesitated, his eyes flicking up to meet mine for a moment before hecontinued, "We kissed."

Even though I was mentally prepared for it to have gone further, to sex, hearing just the word"kissed," without it escalating, sent my heart plummeting to my feet.

"Why did you kiss?" My tone wasn't accusatory. It was flat, simply inquisitive.

Because I wasn't trying to start an argument; I genuinely wanted the answer.

Even though our relationship was ending today, in less than an hour, I couldn't controlmyself. I shouldn't even care that much anymore. Realising this, I shook my head andraised my hand, stopping him from answering.

"It's okay," I dismissed, letting out a forced chuckle. I tried to convince myself it didn't matteranymore, before offering a flippant answer myself. "A goodbye kiss?"

We were ending things today anyway.

"Hmm," Anwar's expression was neutral, but a hint of anxiety lurked beneath the surface.

"Should we do that too? We have to say goodbye today anyway," I asked, my mind stillblank. As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt foolish.

"..."

"I," I rested my forearms on the glass railing, "I think we've expected too much all along."I began my confession.

There was nothing left to lose at this moment. Once I boarded the plane, Anwar and I wouldbe permanently out of contact. Saying anything foolish or pathetic now wouldn't make thingsany worse.

"Why do you think that?"

"I thought our relationship could go further. I secretly hoped you'd end your casualrelationships and truly love me. But now I know I was wrong...it's reached a dead end. Fourmonths just wasn't enough."

"It's not about the time, Blue."

"Then what is it about?"

"Myself," Anwar replied instantly, without a moment's hesitation. "It's me who has theproblem."

"I'm not blaming you," I shook my head, offering a weak smile. "Casual...I asked you toteach me about this kind of relationship. I signed up for this type of relationship and expectedyou to change on your own. It's good to let go of those expectations, the disappointmentsthat cause heartache."

Anwar kept his gaze locked on me. He remained still, listening intently to what I said withoutinterrupting.

I breathed out, stepping closer to the still figure. I looked up at his handsome face, the one Iadored, the perfectly sculpted cheeks I loved to touch.

The imagined image led me to do just that. It made me realize this moment was harder thanI'd anticipated.

This kind of goodbye, where we could meet each other's eyes, touch, and talk like this, wasa hundred times harder than simply disappearing.

I hesitated before deciding to tiptoe and gently tilt his head down, as I had many timesbefore. A light, fleeting kiss on the lips. I caressed it lightly, doing nothing more, a final softpress of our lips before pulling away.

The feelings bottled up inside were too agonizing.

Deep down, I was still stubborn, still wanting more, even though my mind was telling me tostop.

"I gained so much from coming here. Four months might not have given me everything, but itgave me a lot. Thank you," I whispered.

"Why does it sound like we're parting ways?" Anwar grinned, his hand reaching up to holdmy arm, preventing me from retreating. "We're not ending things like this, are we? This isn'ta farewell."

"If it's not a farewell, what is it?" I countered.

My chest ached so badly I wanted to cry, scream, or do anything to relieve the suffocatingpressure. But all I could do was blink rapidly, maintaining my composure and preventingmyself from breaking down, and trying to speak without my voice trembling.That was already enough effort. I couldn't do any more.

"We're not parting ways. You'll be in my memories...and I'll be in yours."

That was all it could be, really. It couldn't be more than that. I couldn't move forward.Because I couldn't see how it would be possible.

"I don't want you to just be a memory," Anwar argued.

"And what can we do about it? You...you're here. I'm not even staying in New Yorkanymore," I waited for Anwar's reaction. He paused, then nodded, but offered no argument.What could he argue? It was a truth we both knew.

Long-distance relationships might work for many people, might work for Gia and Rome, butdefinitely not for someone like Anwar.

Definitely not for someone like Anwar...

"From now on, I'll try to move on...every day, I'll hope to like you less. What do you think?"

Anwar was stunned by my words. He stared, a strained, sad smile playing on his lips. "Whatdo you want me to say, Blue...to a question like that?"

"I don't know... 'Okay,' maybe?" I shook my head and let out a soft chuckle. Feelingoverwhelmed, I started to step back. "I need to hurry and find the gate."

I was stopped at the last second. Anwar tightened his grip on my arm, pulling me closer. Hewrapped his arms tightly around me.

"I'm not giving you an 'okay'."

"I have to go. What do you want me to do...?" I pursed my lips, looking at Anwar who leanedin close. His eyes met mine at very close range.

"A goodbye kiss, as you asked?" He said that, then let out another hollow, empty smilebefore tightly closing his eyes, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the tension.

I was no different.

It felt like something was constricting me, more than just his warm embrace.

It felt like something was squeezing everything in my body, inside, everything, until I couldn'tbreathe. I was afraid that if I took a deep breath, the tears I was trying to hide would spill.

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him again, as he requested, pressing my lips softly againsthis but holding it longer than the first time. Anwar didn't respond.

He became almost statue-like, his stillness broken only by his arms tightening around me,holding me as if afraid I'd slip away.

As I tried to pull away, Anwar was the one who held my chin, delivering a deep, serious kiss,his tongue entwining with mine.

His strong arms trembled slightly.

Anwar himself trembled slightly.

Tears...finally appeared.

"Mhg," I choked out, even though our lips were still connected. Anwar wouldn't easily let mego. He nibbled on my lower lip and then slowly traced my tongue, teeth, and lips with his.Slowly, as if intentionally stretching the moment to its longest.

"Kisses...don't heal anything, Anwar. You don't even know your own mind," I murmured softlywithout looking at him. We were too close; I didn't dare look.

I was afraid of the sadness in his eyes, afraid of the expression he was wearing.

I was afraid of this Anwar, who seemed out of control, different from the Anwar I knew.

Afraid...of seeing his pain.

"You haven't said you love me, have you?"

Silence was the answer.

I pressed my forehead against his broad chest, receiving the last warmth from his tall frame.

"This is a precious memory."

I closed my eyes, remaining still in the silence for several seconds until I felt his wetness.When I moved my face away, I saw a wet circle on his shirt.

A soft chuckle escaped my throat. It was weak, but better than the silence that hadpreceded it.

"I'm sorry," I took a deep breath, pulling away from the familiar embrace that had held me formonths. I tried to control myself, raising a hand to wipe my face without looking up at him.

"Blue."

"And thank you."

Anwar loosely grasped my wrist.

"Blue, I'm letting you go now, but I'm not letting you stop liking me. I won't let all this becomejust a memory. Do you hear me?"

I nodded rapidly, then shook my head.

I couldn't describe how I felt. It was a chaotic mix of everything.

I just knew I couldn't stay here any longer.

It was numbingly, terrifyingly heavy.

"It's over. You don't love me."

"..."

"When you do, we can talk," I cut him off, forcing a smile as I shoved the flowers back intohis hands before grabbing my suitcase back.

I knew my words were meaningless.

Because Anwar would never love me. Our story would never go further than this.We...would never see each other again.

In the end, I had to let him go, too. A summer memory, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

In the end, I had to let you go too, Anwar.





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Anwar's pov:



His small back moved away, disappearing into the crowd. One blink, and he was gone fromsight.

I remained standing still. Everything seemed frozen, as if my body had temporarily lost itsability to think. My mind endlessly replayed his touch, his voice, his words.

I don't feel sadness often in my life...the sadness I've experienced was usually mixed withdiscomfort, with unease. The tears I've shed mostly came from stress, not from pure,unadulterated sorrow.

I took a deep breath, trying to reorganize my thoughts, but it seemed nothing was workingthe way I wanted.

Everything felt empty.

Blank. I couldn't grasp anything tangible.

Blue's voice, Blue's eyes, echoed back and forth. Pain began to creep in, seizing hold of mybody, my chest, my stomach.

It felt like I was losing something precious, a disappointment and sorrow similar to what I'dfelt before, but exponentially greater. It was on a whole different level.

"Damn," I let out a wry smile, despising myself for being unable to do anything but standthere and watch.

Many of the things Blue said...I couldn't even deny them. I couldn't argue, deny, or excusemyself; what he said was almost entirely true, at least the parts I had to concede.

'You don't even know your own feelings,' the words hit me like a heavy punch to the face.It would have been easier, everything would have been better, if I'd known what it was, this"love" that others can so easily articulate. If I could even say it myself, things would havebeen so different.

I gritted my teeth, my hands clenching and unclenching in frustrating helplessness. I couldn'teven control my own body. I squeezed the bouquet tighter. The images that had made mehappy, that had brought a secret smile to my face on the plane from Northern Ireland, wereshattered as easily as worthless paper.

I thought we'd have a week, at least, to do things together, to talk.

I foolishly thought I had more time, far more than the few hours I actually had left.

I leaned my back against the same large pillar, my mouth so dry I could barely swallow. Thefeel of his soft lips lingered in my memory; the warmth of his breath felt like it was still here,just centimeters away.

It was a cruel joke, a sickeningly cruel joke.

I blinked, and realized the horrifying truth: nothing was there. None of it. No Blue, no lips, nobreath, no smaller body that I loved to hold.

'I thought you were going back tomorrow?'

So you intentionally didn't tell me? You planned to leave without saying goodbye, didn't you?'I thought our relationship could go further. I secretly hoped you'd end your casualrelationships and truly love me.'

It could have gone further, you know? I intended for it to go further, just like you hoped.I've stopped. All relationships with everyone else.

Because I wanted to be with you.

'From now on, I'll try to move on... every day. I hope I'll like you less.'

'I'm not even staying in New York anymore.'

'It's over. You don't love me.'

How hard is it to say 'I love you'? It shouldn't be this hard.

I tried to take a deep breath. My face was so pale I could barely feel anything. The damptouch on my palm made me pause.

I blinked, quickly wiping my hand on my cheek before looking down at the tears the otherperson had left on my shirt.

I waited, until I was sure of what had just happened.

I've said goodbye so many times, but why does this one hurt so much?

Damn...

It hurts so much, I can't stop crying.

"Ha ha," I forced a laugh, sinking to my knees and burying my face in my hands. "Shit..."

It feels like something incredibly important has just vanished.

My heart aches, and I'm frantic, even though I know there's nothing I can do. And knowingthat makes it even more frustrating, angrier.

More pathetic than ever.

I stared at the bouquet in my hand, letting time drift by until my thoughts began to clear. Iwiped away my tears roughly and stood up.

I was so lost, so disoriented, I barely knew what to do.

I didn't even know what to think, what to do first.

I walked back to my car, got in, and put the flowers on the passenger seat. They used to bethere, on the lap of the person who sat there. Now, they wouldn't even pretend to hold them.

Maybe I deserved this.

That thought circled in my head, alternating with Blue's last words. The drive home wascompletely empty. It had been a familiar scene for months: walking upstairs and noticingsomeone else's presence. He would often sit quietly, working on his MacBook or on hisphone, on the sofa.

I was used to working at the counter and seeing his back almost all the time.

Used to hugging someone while falling asleep. Used to the faint scent of his soap.. a scent Ididn't use, a scent no one here used.

Used to constantly buying smoked salmon, avocados, and bread to replenish the supplybecause he made it the way I taught him, from that day until today.

Before, no one here liked smoked salmon except me. Now, it's just me again.

Coming back to this emptiness... it's emptier than ever.

'I won't let you stop liking me. I won't let all of this become just a memory.'

It was easy to say, but what could I do against the tens of thousands of kilometers that nowstand between us?

I really don't know what to think or do first.

I rested my forehead on the bar counter, lost in thought, desperately searching for a solution,when my phone buzzed softly. I quickly grabbed it, hoping it was Blue, any message beforehe boarded his flight would be good.

The word "Mom" appearing on the screen instantly deflated my hopes. It was funny how Ibuilt up those expectations in a fraction of a second, only to see them crumble just asquickly.

"Yes, Mom," I answered.

"Are you sleeping, honey?"

"No, Mom," I replied. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm calling to borrow your car, the Benz. My car won't start, Dad took it to get it fixed, and Idon't know when he'll be done. Not having a car is so inconvenient," she mumbled into thephone.

"Sure, I'll drive it over. When do you need it?"

"This evening? I have a dinner date with friends tonight."

"Okay."

"Thank you so much," my mother replied. "Oh, and how's Blue? Is this August already? Am Iremembering correctly?"

"Blue?" I frowned, a pang of pain hitting my chest just from hearing his name.

"He was supposed to stay until August, right? This month? When is he leaving, honey?" Thequestion hit me hard.

Even my mother knew the month he was leaving.

I lowered my eyes, staring at my fingertips as they touched the bar, bracing myself slightly,my arms extended before I looked down at my feet.

"Mom, where are you right now?"

"I'm at the company, where else would I be? But I'll be heading home soon."

"I'll pick you up and take you home," I offered.

"Looks like it's going to pour today," my mother chuckled softly. "You don't usually offer to bethis considerate."

I glanced at the empty sofa, my gaze lingering before I closed my eyes. Her laughter, which Iusually enjoyed, didn't improve my mood in the slightest.






..






..








My mind was completely blank.

"I want to talk to you."

"..."

"Actually, I have something to confess."

"Hmm."

She murmured a response after I finished speaking. It was a brief explanation, very briefindeed. I didn't go into much detail, but it was enough to change her initially smiling face intoa stern expression.

I shifted, noticing her frown. She took off her glasses and crossed her arms - a posture mymother frequently adopted when lecturing or scolding me.

"What you did with Blue wasn't right, Anwar. " she said, her words falling in line with myexpectations, though I hadn't come expecting praise.

"Yes, I'm sorry."

"Is it his mother that you should apologize to?" She placed her glasses on the coffee tablebefore sitting cross-legged. "How could you toy with someone's feelings like that? What did Iteach you about not viewing women as...?"

"Objects," I finished.

"Exactly. And are you old enough to understand that I don't just mean women?"

"I didn't view anyone as an object," I argued. "I didn't intend to hurt him, I didn't want to hurthim."

This time, my mother remained silent, her stern gaze unwavering before finally sighing aftera moment.

"Then what do you want me to do? How am I supposed to talk to Pim? She trusted us,entrusted her child to our care, and now my son has caused them so much pain."

"..."

"Anwar, you didn't just come to tell me this so I could scold you, did you?"

It's true that I'm not sitting here telling her everything just to be scolded or to vent. Even now,I'm not sure if my decision was the right one, or even sensible.

"Why did you tell me this, Anwar?" She pressed for an answer.

"I wanted you to know," I replied, thinking about my upcoming schedule. Next month, I haveto start my thesis. I won't be able to move, I won't have time to do anything else until I finishclearing things up in the fall semester. After that, I'll probably have about two weeks free, ifnothing else comes up.

"From now on, I won't have anyone else. This time, no matter what they look like, he will bethe most important person to me."

Until the end of the year, I can't do anything. Until that time.

I don't even know if it'll be too late. Time isn't on my side. But to give up easily just becauseof time... that thought is so frustrating I can't bear it anymore.I met my mother's gaze. It's a decision I've already made. No matter what the future holds, Iwill follow the path I chose.

"Because in four months... I might have a favor to ask."

..





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Blue's pov:



It was almost midnight by the time I got to Thailand. The exhaustion from the pasttwenty-plus hours made me just want to go straight home and sleep. Even on the plane, nomatter how hard I tried to sleep, I couldn't get a proper rest.

The taxi ride from the airport to my house took another hour. I couldn't even make a call. Icouldn't even remember if my Thai monthly SIM card was still active, or even where it was.It felt so surreal. Yesterday, I was in New York, surrounded by skyscrapers and crowds. Now,I'm back in the same familiar atmosphere I've known my whole life: the humid air, the hotwind, the old taxi with its radio playing the news. In a few days, I'll be back in my studentuniform, waking up for classes, then pulling all-nighters to finish assignments.

It felt like a dream, the atmosphere was so different, it was like being on a different planet.The taxi turned into the housing estate. The security guard took a picture of the license plateand noted down the house number before letting us through. We passed a roundabout andfollowed the directions I gave until we reached the two-story house. The large,
well-maintained lawn and garden surrounding the house, and the orange lights by the fenceand the garage area, gave me a little bit of hope that my mother might have remembered myflight arrival time.

If she had walked out of the house and seen me struggling with my bags from the car, shequickly came to help, carrying my large backpack inside and placing it on the sofa in theliving room. Then she faced me, gave a small smile, and opened her arms for a hug.

The warmth from her made my eyes well up. This is what home and family should feel like. Ihugged her for a long time, not wanting to let go. She laughed, trying to pull away, teasingme relentlessly. When I still didn't let go, she stopped moving and gently stroked my backinstead.

"How are you, Blue? Did you miss me a lot?"

"I missed you the most," I whispered against her shoulder, taking a deep breath to hold backmy tears before pulling away, trying to look normal. "I missed your scrambled eggs too.""What? You missed only the scrambled eggs after all this time?" Mom chuckled, then lookedaway. "I was going to prepare a huge meal. Someone has been excitedly anticipating thisfor days. He probably even reserved a restaurant."

I hesitated, giving a wry smile as I looked down at the light-colored tiles.

We hadn't spoken a single word to each other in four months, my father and I.

Did I miss him? Yes. Was I still scared? Yes, because the slap and the beating I receivedstill hurt. But looking back...

"Try talking to him. Your dad has gotten over his anger and secretly felt guilty the wholetime. But as you know, ego gets in the way. He misses you, but he won't call."

"I don't know, Mom. Even if he's not angry anymore, he still doesn't like me. He doesn't..." Iswallowed the rest of the sentence. The sadness that had faded returned with a vengeance,a sharp pain in my chest. Even escaping to New York couldn't change the fact that I couldnever escape. The fight I had with my dad, it hadn't gotten better, it hadn't faded or resolveditself. Over those four months, nothing had changed.

"Blue, try talking to your dad. I've talked to him several times," Mom said, smiling gentlybefore patting my back lightly. "Go upstairs and sleep. It's very late. We can talk tomorrowmorning. I'll make you something delicious. How about stir-fried pork with soy sauce? Or areyou still craving toast?"

"Rice would be better. I'm sick of toast and cheese," I replied.

"Okay. If you wake up easily, wake up. If not, just rest. Don't force yourself," Mom nodded,walking towards my bags. "I've already prepared your toothbrush and everything. I'll sortthrough your things later."

"Okay," I answered, leaving my things and walking through the dining room and hall to mybedroom. My dad and mom's rooms were on the second floor. There was another bedroomupstairs, but it wasn't mine. It was kept for Grandma when she visited.

It had been four months since I last slept here, but it felt much longer.

My bedroom was simply decorated. It had white walls contrasted with muted blue bedding.A thick, comfortable mattress, white sheets, and a blue-gray blanket. A small wooden tablenext to the bed held a lamp for reading or nighttime use. There was a desk, a smallbookshelf, and a wardrobe. That was all the furniture in my room, not counting the rugs andcurtains that my mother had chosen to match. I quickly changed, took a cool shower, andthen walked over to open my closet.

The neatly arranged clothes inside made me pause.

They were so different from what I'd been wearing for months in New York. I'd almostforgotten I used to dress like this.

I sighed, grabbed a simple white t-shirt and long blue pyjamas pants, quickly put them on,and threw myself onto the bed.

I rolled onto my left side, lay on my back staring at the ceiling, and then rolled onto my right.I'm really in Thailand now. I'm lying in my own bed, in my house in Bangkok.

I'm not in nr 215 Greenwich anymore. I can't open my bedroom door and walk to the bar onthe second floor to find someone else sitting there working, or see Jasper sprawled outplaying video games on the sofa.

It's all gone. Just like that.

A wave of emptiness hits my chest, and I take a deep breath, trying to fill the void.

Even though I've been sleeping alone all week, why, at this moment, can't I seem toremember what it's like to be alone? Why am I choosing to remember being embraced frombehind, the breath on the back of my neck, the long legs intertwined with mine from behindunder a thick blanket, and the faint scent of perfume in the room?

I need to stop thinking about it.

I need to stop thinking about it, once and for all.

Everything has slipped through my fingers. Even if I want it back now, I can't get it back.I roll onto my back again as warmth wells up in my eyes.

Just cry. It's time for school to start. Soon, there will be other things to distract me:

homework, quizzes, group projects, the tedious and annoying freshman orientation, the hotweather, and walking in the sun to other faculty buildings for classes.

When it starts, things will get better.

I pray they will get better someday.

I woke up a little after nine, feeling so tired I wanted to bury my head in the pillow and sleepsome more. But at the same time, my body ached so much I couldn't close my eyes. I gotdressed, got out of bed, showered, and walked into the dining room. Mom was in aform-fitting dark brown dress that hit mid-calf, making coffee at the counter.

I went and sat down at the table and started on the food that had been prepared for me:greasy stir-fried minced pork over plain rice, accompanied by a side of crispy fried shallots.I've been living on this dish for days now. It's easy, requires no thought, and I can happily eatthe same thing repeatedly until Mom eventually complains.

Mom commented on my haggard appearance, saying I looked like I hadn't slept enough.She compared me to when I'd just returned from my high school exchange program. Backthen, I'd gained so much weight I could barely fit into my old clothes, all because I ateMcDonald's every day. And I was lucky enough to be staying with a host dad who was achef! Dinner was a feast every single day for a whole year.

This time, it's not the same. I might even lose weight before I go back to Thailand because Ihave such a poor appetite.

"Your dad's in the living room," Mom said, nodding towards the living room after I finished mymeal.

Mom wants me to talk to him; I can tell. Just giving me the time to retreat and get mybearings in America all summer is help enough. Mom has never liked it when familymembers argue without resolving things directly.

I took a deep breath and mustered my courage. Mom didn't rush me. She just stood there,watching me with a small smile as I finally decided to stand up.

The cool air conditioning from the living room reached me as I approached the sliding door.Through the clear glass, I saw a man nearing retirement age using his finger to scrollthrough something on a large iPad. His brow was furrowed, as if he was troubled aboutsomething. He was wearing a cream-colored short-sleeved polo shirt with dark-creamtrousers. He looked up at me the moment I opened the sliding door, slowly placing the iPadbeside him and offering a slight nod with a neutral expression.

"How are you?" he asked, lightly patting my back to guide me to a small sofa. He then wentto stand behind the sofa where he was sitting, his posture relaxed but subtly guarded.

"I'm fine."

"Are you comfortable? How was America?"

"Good. It was fun, and I was comfortable."

I couldn't stop myself from tensing up. I was so tense, anxious, and scared that I couldn'teven force a smile.

"Having so much fun you forgot to contact your dad, you rascal," my dad's tone shifted. Theinitial stiffness and seriousness were replaced with a teasing tone, like before. Just hearingthat voice again made my heart skip a beat.

"Because...dad's angry with me."

"I can't hear you. Speak up."

I held my breath, staring at the floor, forcing myself to speak louder. "Because das's angrywith me...I... I didn't dare contact him."

The pressure I'd built up was crushing me, overwhelming my thoughts and feelings. Afterholding my breath for so long I couldn't take it anymore, I exhaled. Hot tears welled up andfell onto my pants, leaving wet marks. My vision blurred.

My dad fell silent. Mom didn't say anything either. I tried to stifle my sobs, keeping themquiet from both of them, until my dad spoke.

"Don't cry. Come on, now. You're all grown up, and you're still crying?" I wiped away mytears, although I didn't need to look up to know he was moving closer. He kissed the back ofmy head gently. That touch made me cry even harder, instead of calming me down.

Sob

"I'm sorry, Blue. I'm sorry for not understanding."

My ears were ringing, but I still heard those words clearly. I felt the touch of his hand strokingmy back and hair, contrasting sharply with the sounds of my own sobbing and the tighteningof my muscles.

"You weren't here to teach me, I was wrong. Don't cry anymore, Blue. I'll try to understandbetter."

I nodded rapidly, repeatedly trying to wipe my face, but the tears kept flowing, making theeffort futile.

"Dad...I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"For not being like others." My head was a muddle; I didn't know what to say. I glanced up atmy dad, seeing him furrow his brow in much the same way he did when staring at an iPad,and it felt strangely familiar.

"Sorry for what? You don't have to apologize for anything," my dad insisted, his voice risingslightly as he settled onto the sofa armrest beside me, his hand remaining on my back. "Youdon't have to be like anyone else. No one is the same. Blue, you're Blue, you're my child.No matter what, you'll always be my child."

My father reassured me and explained in a loud, blunt voice, but one that conveyed hiskindness. He apologized repeatedly for trying to force me, unconsciously, into a mold thathe'd envisioned for me.

"You've grown up so well, Blue. I'm so proud of you. No matter who you like, dad won't stopyou, no matter what. So don't feel guilty, don't feel regret, don't apologize for this."

I couldn't take it anymore.

My nose was burning hot, as were my eyes, which ached from the heat.

I nodded. My heart was both constricted with agonizing pain and simultaneously relieved, tothe point I wanted to scream and let out everything I'd held in for so long-the most relief I'dfelt all year.

Yet, I cried even harder, until my father and mother rushed to comfort me.

"Don't cry anymore. I don't mind anymore," he said, though he himself let out a huge sigh,his eyes red and watery, on the verge of tears himself.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Come on, let's take you to soak in with Mom. Okay?" Mom loosely put her arms around myfather and me.

"Dad's going to play golf with his friends, too. How about we take you for some stewed porkleg and mantou later?"

"Okay..." I nodded, then burst out laughing, though there was nothing funny at all.It was laughter I couldn't control, and I didn't even try to stop it.

I was truly relieved.

So incredibly relieved...