40.

The warm water...the steam swirling around me...and a jumble of thoughts in my head.I showered until my skin was wrinkled, like I was being pulled into a memory. I replayedmany events that had happened in New York and over the past four months.

Telling Anwar to shower first and then talk gave me space to reflect. I thought it was betterthan continuing the conversation while I was still unready.

I met Anwar's gaze as soon as I opened the bathroom door. He sat quietly on a chair by hisdesk, his tall frame clad in a simple white Jil Sander crew-neck t-shirt and black trousers. Hiseyes trailed down to my body, to my ribs, without a word. His expression shifted slightly.

He didn't ask about it...my tattoo.

But he stared with an unreadable expression as I went to open the closet, quickly pulling outa short-sleeved shirt and matching trousers before sitting on the edge of the bed, only a fewarm-lengths from him.

"When it comes time to actually talk, I don't know where to begin," I chuckled softly. Anwaroffered a faint smile.

"I'm sorry," Anwar began, his voice low, soft, and sincere. He met my gaze directly, withoutavoiding my eyes as he voiced his thoughts. "For making you sad, for making you cry. Itmight sound terrible and careless, but I never intended to hurt you like that. I never wantedto break my promises to you. A lot of things back then happened unexpectedly. Maybe Icould have handled your feelings better, done things better."

"..."

"More than anything...I'm sorry things turned out this way. I'm sorry I realized it so late. I'msorry my problems caused all this." Anwar lowered his head slightly. I saw tears welling in hiseyes before he looked down at his lap. He took a deep breath, paused, then looked back atme. There were no more tears, only a face filled with sorrow. "I didn't come here to pressureyou or rush your decision. I won't argue with whatever you decide... I came here because Imiss you, and I wanted to tell you how I feel, to say things I haven't been able to say."

And what could I do with those words? He came just because he missed me, to say thingshe'd never been able to say before. What could I do after hearing those words?

"What did you hope for by coming here?" I asked.

"To say I didn't hope for anything would be a lie."

"Why do you think you love me?" As soon as I asked, my own heart pounded with anxiety. Ifound myself unexpectedly hoping for a certain answer.

I looked down at my own hands. I had used these hands to hold him.

I never thought I'd ask this question. Why do you love me? Why me?

Even though I'd hoped for it, I never dared to believe Anwar could love me completely, onehundred percent. Not even when he said I was the most important person to him, the personwho mattered most.

"Because it's different. The feelings packed inside my body, my thoughts, myconsciousness..." Anwar took a long time to formulate his words before answering. "Thelonging, the desire... I blame you for an untouchable torment. Everything seems distorted,different from before, just because of the memories we share. I think of you every time mybrain stops thinking about work, and I pity myself after waking from a good dream. Butrealizing that hugging you is something that never really happened... if what I've felt thesepast four months isn't love, then love must be even more powerful than that... otherwise, Iwouldn't be able to bear it."

He chuckled at the end of the sentence. It sounded strained and weary.

"I might not be the same person I was back then." Even though I wanted to embrace hisconfession of love, the fear built up inside me made me keep questioning him. "You mightnot like me now."

With that last sentence, I thought of what happened with P'Phim. Four months could havereally changed me, maybe to the point where he no longer liked me.

"I wouldn't dare say something simplistic like, 'I love everything about you, no matter howmuch you change,' or anything like that," he shook his head as he spoke. "But I don't fall inlove easily. I've never... loved anyone. I don't think my feelings would change just becausesomething about you changed, or because I found something I didn't like about you. I don'twant to belittle my own feelings like that, and you deserve more than that."

Even though it sounded like a fairly average statement, not romantic or promising, I feltgood. So good, it made my body feel restless. It felt good, and yet simultaneously made mewant to cry for no reason.

I bit my lower lip as tears welled up in my eyes. Then I met his gaze directly, no longer tryingto avoid it.

"I'm scared, Anwar," I let the tears roll down my cheeks, slowly lowering my guard as Anwarlistened calmly, in contrast to the tears that were now welling up in his own eyes, catchingthe light from the ceiling. "I don't want to feel this scared, I don't want to feel as deeply as Idid back then. I don't want to get hurt again. What should I do?"

Anwar's face contorted, reflecting a pain that mirrored my own.

Amidst the silence, I let my sobs be the only sound. Then Anwar raised a hand to his face,took a deep breath, and stood up from his chair. He slowly knelt on the floor in front of me,but still kept a distance, not touching me at all.

"Blue, no matter what you decide, I won't object or argue with you."

"..."

"But I want... to truly have you. I want you by my side. And if you want me to do anything,anything that will make you happy, I will do it. All of it."

It sounded like a promise, even without the word "promise" being uttered.

I raised my hand to wipe away my tears, looking down at Anwar who was now at a lowerlevel than me. I weighed things in my mind, trying to find an answer, something to makesense of all the turmoil swirling inside me.

"What if it goes back to how it was before?" My voice sounded strange.

What if it went back to the way things were, and I was stuck in the same situation?

I don't think I could handle it again. I don't think I could heal again, because even now Ihaven't fully healed, even after all this time.

"What would go back to how it was before?"

"You... and everyone else you have in your life. I don't want to wait anymore." Anwar offereda fleeting, empty smile; his beautiful eyes dimmed slightly when I said that.

"You don't have to wait anymore," he replied softly. "I don't have anyone else. I'm notinvolved with anyone, I don't have a relationship with anyone. I've cleared things up witheveryone."

"You did all that...because of me?" It wasn't something I'd prepared for or anticipated. Evenwhen I heard him say he loved me, I never imagined Anwar would break up with everyone towait for me.

Anwar looked up, meeting my gaze. He pursed his lips and nodded, then leaned closer untilhis forehead touched my thigh.

"I can do more than that..." he whispered, without looking up. "Because I love you."

Hearing those simple words so clearly, for the first time like that, made me instantly lift myhead.

Because my tears flowed profusely, as if knowing the perfect moment, and I cried harder andharder, shaking, as I felt the wetness on my own leg.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice trembling.

I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn't see me. I still couldn't think straight, but myhand moved to his hair, resting on it, stroking it gently.

"What do you want from me, Anwar?"

"Give me a chance to love you, please." The plea was soft, almost a whisper. Anwarclenched both hands, which were resting still on his own legs.

He was tense, worried.

So I lifted my hand from his soft hair and used the back of my hand to wipe my tears.

"I...," the response in my throat made Anwar quickly look up. His beautiful eyes werered-rimmed, showing clear signs of crying. I nodded emphatically before continuing, "I'll giveyou a chance, but I'll also give myself a chance, Anwar. I love you very much. I loved youthen, and I still love you the same way now. But I won't try to change myself to please you, orpretend to be someone I'm not to make our relationship look perfect. In these two weeks wehave, we'll both be ourselves. Completely ourselves, for both of us."

I'll be myself as best as I can. And if he continues to love me, if we're compatible, that wouldbe wonderful. But if he ultimately doesn't like me, that's okay too.

Because I don't want to be disappointed anymore. I don't want to exhaust myself pretendingfor a relationship.

My last hope.

I'm giving it my all to be truly myself.

"And whatever the end result is, let it be. Are you okay with that?"

"Okay," Anwar murmured. He continued to stare intently at me before nodding a few moretimes, repeating himself like someone who's lost their mind, "Okay."

He slowly ran his hands through his hair, a relieved smile escaping his lips, before leaning inclose again and softly kissing my forehead.

"Thank you...thank you."

That small touch stole my breath. It lingered for only a few seconds before he pulled away ashe stood up.

Anwar stood looking at me with an expression that suggested something was on his mind,before deciding to reach out and gently wipe away the remaining tears on my face.

"Hmm," I murmured softly.

"I missed you so much, you know," he said, using his thumb to gently wipe under my eye. "Imissed you so much I thought I'd go crazy."

I nodded.

Before I could respond, the phone on the bed rang loudly. It displayed Phim's name inEnglish. Since it was on the bed, Anwar saw it just as clearly as I did.

"If you want to talk, I'll go outside," he said politely, without sarcasm or hidden testing."No need. I'm not going to answer," I flatly refused, glancing at the phone one last timebefore reaching out to silence it and turning it face down on the bed.

Anwar continued to lightly trace my face with his fingertips, until my tears subsided. Histouch lingered, brushing my cheek, grazing my lips, before finally withdrawing.

"We talked last night. He's been trying to get back together since four months ago, but I don'twant to get back with him," For some reason, I suddenly opened my mouth and told Anwarabout P'Phim. "He came to see me today because I told him to. I told him to kiss me, and if Ididn't feel anything, he could stop bothering me."

It was a ridiculous decision. I blurted it out without thinking, because all I could think aboutwas Anwar.

P'Phim called at the most emotionally unstable moment I'd had in four months.

Perhaps, in part, I wanted to believe it meant nothing. Anwar's return to my life, hisappearance at my house, didn't make me feel anything, to the point that I could talk aboutkissing or doing things with someone else.

It was a split-second decision. I almost punched myself after regaining my composure andrealizing what I had said.

"And will you kiss him?" Anwar asked.

"I..." I hesitated, looking up at him, observing his expression. Anwar remained calm andshowed no emotion. "I don't know."

"..."

"Would you be angry if I did?" I asked, teasingly.

Anwar was silent for several seconds before shaking his head slightly. "I'm not angry withyou. I don't have that right."

"But wouldn't you be upset?"

"I'll be hurt, but I'm not angry or upset," he admitted simply. His gaze rested on my lips. "Butthe thought of you kissing or hugging someone else... it almost kills me. If it actuallyhappens..."

He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished for me to complete.

"Then would you ask me not to?"

This new question silenced Anwar longer than the previous one.

He pursed his lips, finally shaking his head slowly. "I want you to do whatever you want. AndI want you to make the decision you want to make."

"I can wait. I'll wait," he whispered. "Just like I asked you to wait." My heart jolted afterhearing those words.

It came with a strange, warm surge in my chest.

"I don't think I'll feel anything from P'Phim's kiss," I revealed. "I already kissed him lastmonth. It was...empty. Breaking up must feel like this."

I don't know what in my words triggered Anwar. His brown eyes sparkled briefly beforecalming down.

"And if I kiss you, will you still feel something?"

Is it because of the word "breaking up"?

Does he want to test if I've moved on from him, or is it something else?

"Let's find out," I replied curtly, as a challenge, as permission.

I didn't even know what kind of feeling my own voice conveyed in that sentence.

Anwar's eyes widened slightly before he stepped closer, his feet stopping just inside my legs.

"Would you mind?" The familiar question, phrased as a request for permission, came again.

"No." And I replied with the same short, complete word as before.

It was as if the same old tape was rewound to the beginning. As he leaned down until ournoses brushed, I slowly closed my eyes, feeling his soft lips press gently against mine, alight, lingering touch that made my heart flutter. He nibbled on my lower lip, then my upperlip, as if savoring a sweet treat, before using his tongue to lick, without fully entering mymouth.

Anwar used one hand to cradle my face.

The tentative kisses transformed into a deeper, more profound kiss. I felt every sensationfrom him and, simultaneously, experienced his feelings.

His tongue entangled with mine, playfully pushing and pulling until I could hear the sounds ofour saliva mingling.

We could have intensified the kiss, amped up the passion, but Anwar simply continued topress his lips against mine, letting our breaths intertwine, allowing me to respond inwhatever way I wanted.

Having been deprived of physical touch for so long, I felt clumsy and awkward, almostreverting to the cluelessness I felt during our first kiss.

The only stark difference between then and now was that this kiss was overflowing withfeeling.

Love, longing, tenderness, apology... inexpressible emotions.

But how could the simple pressing of lips convey so much?

I'm not sure myself.

His kisses were different from P'Phim's. They left my mind blank, empty. My heart poundedso hard it felt like it would burst from my chest.

I opened my eyes to meet his gaze. My back was against the soft bed, but Anwar was stillstanding on the floor, one hand pressing against the bed while both hands rested on thethick blanket, holding me within his loose embrace.

He nibbled gently on my lower lip again before whispering, even as our lips remainedtouching,

"Do you still feel it? Do you feel the same way you felt before?" The direct question left mespeechless. My eyes drifted towards the headboard, then down to the blanket, my ownblanket.

Because I knew I felt it. I felt it profoundly—a feeling completely unlike the emptiness I feltwith P'Phim.

But should I tell him? Or should I not tell him the truth?

I hesitated for a moment while meeting his pleading gaze.

Finally, sighing, I wrapped my arms loosely around his warm neck and confessed in a simplesentence that made him smile.

"I feel it. I still feel it."

Anwar let out a breath of relief and smiled broadly. Then he nuzzled his face into the crook ofmy neck, as he used to.

Being held like this, in this familiar position, felt strange.

"Can I hug you?" he asked, still nestled against my neck.

"Yes," I allowed. The moment I said it, Anwar rolled onto his side and then lay down, hisupper body resting on my arm. His other arm wrapped tightly around me, our bodies pressedclose together.

"Thank you."

"For what?:

"For being you." The whisper was soft, yet immensely powerful.

I gazed at his handsome face, so close to mine. Anwar met my gaze directly.

"I don't know if saying this will hurt you."

"Say whatever you want," he murmured after a pause from me.

"I never thought you'd be able to do this. Even if I hoped, I never thought it would actuallyhappen. About the other people you've been with... I never thought you'd give up that kindof life for me." Anwar raised an eyebrow slightly.

"I don't date or sleep with other people when I have a lover. It was the same with Belle.When I decide to like someone, I never do it casually."

His words surprised me. I'd never imagined Anwar and Belle in this context before.

"Actually, I've always wanted to know what it feels like to be loved. It would be nice to lovesomeone."

"You don't seem like someone who wants a serious relationship. That's always been yourimage, at least from my perspective," I confessed honestly. Anwar was momentarily stunned,then chuckled softly.

"I seem like that, huh?" He flicked his tongue across his lips, then looked thoughtful.

"Probably because I hadn't met anyone I truly loved. I've been curious about love, but Ihaven't actively pursued it. I just lived my life. It's not surprising that it turned out this way."

"Never?"

"Never. When the time is right, it'll come... it seems to have come right to my doorstep," histeasing remark made my face flush.

"If I'd chosen a different house, I wouldn't have met you," I thought back to when my momshowed me several properties. I chose Anwar's house because it was the cheapest. I choseit without any information or appealing photos to draw me in.

"Do you regret choosing that way?" Anwar asked softly. He stopped hugging me and insteadused his index finger to gently trace my face, from my forehead, between my eyebrows, anddown the curve of my nose.

His touch was slow and deliberate, his eyes following the tip of his finger. He gazed at me asif memorizing every detail of my face.

"I've regretted things because of you, but I've never regretted choosing that house," I replied,knowing he understood my meaning.

His fingertip paused slightly. He slowly smiled, his finger reaching my slightly puffy undereyes. "I won't let you regret it," he said, moving closer until our faces were almost touching.

"Can you do that?"

"Yes. I won't let you be sad. I won't let you cry anymore." He paused before a slight smileplayed on the corner of his mouth. "If you cry because of me, it won't be because ofsadness."

"Anwar," I called out his name, my eyelids fluttering closed as he leaned in for a soft kiss.The kiss lingered, unhurried, as if we had all the time in the world.

Anwar initially spent time lightly tasting my lips, playfully teasing my tongue. After a while,he switched to sucking on my lower lip and then my upper lip, creating soft sounds; herepeated this, seeming to enjoy it, before pressing his lips more firmly against mine,deepening the kiss, intensely, as if intent on stealing my breath.

Damn it.

His kisses... were never anything less than perfect.

We made eye contact as Anwar pulled away, but his warm breath close by confirmed hisproximity. I tried to keep my expression neutral, even though my heart was overflowing withlonging.

"What if, in the end, you don't love me...?" What if, in the end, it's just liking? Like Jamie andBelle.

The more I let my guard down and allowed myself to be touched, the more anxious Ibecame. My mind raced with worries, it was incessant and maddening.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure," Anwar replied with a smile, lifting his index finger togently caress my cheek. "Because I wouldn't dare bring my uncertainties to you. For fourmonths, I haven't been with anyone else. Instead of paying attention to those who circledaround me, the only person I thought about was you."

"Haven't been with anyone...?"

"Yes."

"Then all the others you were with... other people."

"I simply ended those relationships. Some understood, others needed time to talk."

"Four months. You really haven't been with anyone, haven't touched anyone at all?" I asked,emphasizing my words.

"Yes," Anwar answered easily.

"So?" I shut my mouth, suppressing the question that had sprung to mind, before rephrasingit. "Don't you want to?"

"I do, but not with anyone else." Anwar stopped cupping my cheek, breaking eye contact andlowering his gaze to my lips. "I told you, I only think about you. I can't hug someone elsewhen all I'm thinking about is you."

"Then right now, do you want to...do me?" I asked directly, causing Anwar to pause.I didn't actually want to do anything right now. Sex wasn't on my mind at all. I asked simplybecause I was curious.

"I want to hug you, I've wanted to for four months. But not today, not now," Anwar's voicewas soft. He leaned closer and lightly kissed my lips before murmuring, our mouths stilltouching, "I want to lie here and talk to you, and just...touch you like this, more thananything."

My lips tightened, my face burning, my heart swelling with his answer.

I lifted my index finger and lightly touched the tip of his nose.

"Then do it...touch me." It was both permission and a command. Anwar brushed my fingeraside, kissing me deeply, then gently biting me as I continued, "Show me how much you'vemissed me."

His beautiful eyes sparkled, a smile playing on his lips.

A few heart-stopping seconds passed.

"You're driving me crazy..." he whispered, almost to himself, as he straddled me. I pretendednot to hear, tilting my head slightly as he leaned down to kiss my temple.

My heart pounded, ready for every touch he would give.

It was gentle, tender, making my body feel light as he pressed his lips all over me, nibblingmy skin playfully, teasingly stimulating my sensitive skin. He kissed every inch of me,leaving no space untouched, tracing kisses along my neck.

Anwar grasped both my hands, lifting them above my head. His lips trailed across my skin,from my wrists, up my forearms, to where my shirt sleeves ended.

I unconsciously held my breath. My body was aroused, expressing its desire. When I shiftedmy legs to explore his body in return, I found Anwar in the same state as me, yet the natureof his touch didn't change.

It was created to express longing, yearning, a desire for constant touch, not to arouse andlead to sex.

His index and middle fingers moved down to the white plastic buttons of my shirt. Anwartraced them down, gently nudging each one, his breath catching slightly before his fingerspassed down to my waist without unbuttoning a single one. His beautiful eyes darkened withintensity.

"Blue, how far can I go?" He looked up at me, waiting patiently, without reaching inside.Until he received permission.

"I'll tell you," I replied casually, somewhat stubbornly. This made him smile briefly, a fleetingexpression of stress. In the next instant, the white shirt was being lifted higher and higher byhis fingertips. The higher his middle finger traced across my abdomen, the higher his handwent, until it reached my chest.

Anwar gritted his teeth as his fingertips brushed against my nipples. I bit my lower lip,watching him with a mixture of confusion and helplessness before he leaned down andkissed my chest sporadically, avoiding my most sensitive areas.

We were so close.

His weight pressing down on me, the way he held me beneath him; it was both confining andfulfilling at the same time.

"When did you get that tattoo?" he murmured softly, turning me onto my side and strokingthe tattoo on my ribs. I turned to look at him, still focused on that spot.

A short sequence of Chinese characters, arranged vertically.

"What does it mean?" Before I could answer his previous question, Anwar fired another one.

He leaned down until his face was right there, his nose lightly tracing over the tattoo,alternating with soft kisses.

"Love without regret."

Anwar froze upon hearing the translation. His dark eyebrows rose slightly as he looked deepinto my eyes.

He knew he was somehow connected to this tattoo.

"Me?" He asked, exactly as I anticipated. Anwar took a deep breath, kissing the tattoo againand again. One hand squeezed my buttocks firmly through my thin shorts.

"It's all you," I confessed softly.

"What do you mean?"

I hesitated for a moment before turning semi-prone, pulling down my shorts slightly to revealanother tattoo above my buttocks on my left hip.

"Blue... what do you mean?" Anwar asked, his voice hoarse. The hand that had held mywrist from the beginning loosened, seeming to weaken.

A small butterfly, inked in red.

"It's you..." I thought of him when I decided to get it. Because I thought I wouldn't see himagain in this life, and I wanted to remember the feeling of butterflies in my stomach, thehappiest feeling I'd ever experienced.

A happiness that once originated from him.

I didn't know how much Anwar understood its meaning, but I didn't intend to explain thetattoo's significance to him.

A soft chuckle escaped Anwar's throat. He didn't wait for an answer.

He lifted my hips, pressing himself on me without any gap, and began kissing my neck,trailing down. The feel of his kisses changed. They weren't lingering, longing, like before.Now, I felt like he was about to go mad for me.

"Babe, I've missed touching you."

His kisses and whispered words made me think that.

"Mmm, me too."

Especially when he kissed repeatedly at my hip, his sharp teeth nibbling the skin hardenough to make me tense.

With this rough touch, my body flashed back to the times we'd pushed each other'sboundaries.

Anwar let out a low growl, his touch insistent, like an addict's. He quickly pulled away when asoft moan escaped my lips as his hand moved to my lower abdomen.

"Uh..."

"I'm glad we talked. But you're right, sex doesn't solve anything. I missed you so much,"

Anwar got off the bed, standing while I collapsed onto the mattress, weak and limp. "I wantto touch you again, but I don't want to test my self-control right now."

"Hmm," I managed to say, my whole body burning hot.

I curled up, trying to hide my body's desires from him, even though I knew he already kneweverything.

"I... I'll go back to my room," he said with difficulty, his gaze flickering between me and thedoor. When I nodded, he quickly backed away, leaving immediately, not forgetting to drop a"Goodnight" before he left.

Even though he could have easily continued, he knew I was getting aroused.

Sex doesn't solve problems—words I'd almost forgotten saying back in New York.

It was surprising he remembered them, and now he was trying to follow them?

Trying to reconcile without sex?

I couldn't read Anwar. I didn't know what he was thinking, but the idea that someone likeAnwar was showing sincerity by not doing what he was good at, what he enjoyed, what waspractically his identity... all for me...

It felt incredibly good.






..






..







"Wow, so beautiful! Look at this..." My mom's excited and surprised voice made me raise aneyebrow slightly. My initial plan to walk past the living room without stopping changedinstantly. Peeking in, I found Anwar standing with a restrained smile, while Mom was busytaking things out of a large box on the sofa. Several pillows were beside the box.

"What are you guys doing?" I asked casually, drawing their attention.

Mom held up a pillow. It was pink, embroidered with a cat's face and wooden buttons.

"Anwar just... gave us a bunch of beautiful pillows."

"My mother told me to bring them. Do you like them, Aunt Pim?"

"They're all so beautiful. But I feel bad. Did Anwar go to a lot of trouble?" Mom put down thepillow and picked up another from the box. This one was square, embroidered with two Gsfacing each other. I knew the brand; Mom knew it too, being a huge fan. It's just that weweren't rich enough to buy such designer furniture to just put on the sofa.

"It wasn't a problem at all. I know someone who works there, so I had them send them over,"Anwar said with a warm smile. His beautiful eyes met mine; his expression didn't change,but his gaze made me feel flushed, forcing me to look away first.

What was he doing...?

I sat down on the remaining sofa, crossed my legs, and silently watched Mom and Anwarwithout comment.

Mom initially insisted on paying, but after Anwar confirmed it was from Linta's money, myMom beamed and accepted graciously. After looking through everything—pillows, blankets,and a set of dishes—Mom excused herself to call Anwar's mother, leaving the room with afondness and affection for Anwar that surpassed even the twenty-plus years she'd spentraising me.

"Gucci?" Anwar nodded in response to my question, then paused, his hand halfway throughfolding a large blanket, turning to look at me after my next question. "That must have beenincredibly expensive."

"Not that expensive, really, compared to the craftsmanship," he picked up a pillow andexamined it. "They're handmade."

"How much per pillow?" I asked directly.

"Seven hundred to a thousand dollars, something like that."

"You're crazy," my heart still plummeted at the price, even though I had a sense of how muchthese brands cost. My shock wasn't just because of the thirty to forty thousand baht pricetag per pillow; it was the sheer quantity of items surrounding us.

Just counting the pillows, not including the glassware and linens he'd folded—if they werethirty thousand baht each, the total would exceed three hundred thousand baht!Anwar raised a delicate eyebrow, seemingly acknowledging my words, before neatly foldingall the linens and stacking them. He then turned to me.

"Why did you bring such expensive things for Mom?"

"My mother told me to bring a gift."

"Your mother really bought all this for Mom?"

"Would that make you feel better?" The question's double meaning instantly revealed thetrue answer. "Isn't it customary? When you're a guest, you bring a gift to the host."

Anwar countered casually.

"They bring small, token gifts as a courtesy, not items with a total bill of hundreds ofthousands of baht."

"I'm not suffering financially, and they aren't that expensive..."

"Compared to the quality of the embroidery, you mean?" I retorted.

"Yes." The simple answer, the initial politeness, shifted to irritation as I struggled tounderstand his perspective—was it from a position of wealth, or a designer's viewpointequating craftsmanship with value?

"Is all this about us?" I briefly surveyed the gifts on the sofa before meeting his gaze,pressing for an answer.

Anwar hesitated slightly. His beautiful brown eyes flickered with a hint of caution for a splitsecond before he looked down. "I just wanted to give something to your mom. She's kind,and your dad is too."

"But you sent these gifts before you even arrived. You didn't know how kind my family reallyis."

"Are you unhappy with what I did?"

"I think it was excessive." It would have been easier if Anwar had simply brought a tea setworth a few thousand or ten thousand baht at most.

"I insist. It's not excessive for me. I'm not struggling because of this. The total value youmentioned... it's less than half of what I've earned from brands as a model. And you see,your mon loves them so much."

I pursed my lips, stood silently, and stared at him for a moment. Unable to argue further, Inodded and walked out of the room without another word. I didn't want to be childish and actthis way, but wasn't it shocking to wake up and find him having delivered two to threehundred thousand baht worth of gifts to my house?

"Where are you going?" Anwar took long strides, following closely.

"I'm going out."

I went to the kitchen and found mom sitting cross-legged, chatting on the phone at the diningtable. Her cheerful laughter reached my ears before she glanced up to see me opening therefrigerator for a drink.

"Should I drive you?" Anwar looked outside through the window. "It's so hot, it might bedifficult for Blue to go alone."

"I'm used to it," I replied flatly, then felt mon's sharp gaze on me.

"Blue's going out?"

"I'm going to the mall to buy some books, Mom."

"Take him along. Wait a second, Linta," my mom said to Anwar's mother, before reaching forher purse, taking out a credit card, and handing it to me. "Treat him well."

"But I have plans with a friend."

"Introduce him to your friends. When you were in New York, he took you out with his friends,didn't he?"

"It's okay. If Blue has plans with a friend, I can just go for a walk alone," Anwar quicklyrefused my mother's offer, shaking his head slightly as I accepted the credit card.

"Can I really use it?" I asked again, confirming.

Mon doesn't usually let me use her credit card. It seems someone really won her over thistime.

"Go ahead. Buy whatever you want. You said you wanted new clothes, right?"

"Really?" I emphasized again. Mom, who was about to continue her phone call, looked at mewith a teasing expression before I jokingly added, "Then I'll surprise you with a big bike later.Thank you!"

"Blue!"






..





..






"Blue, are you angry with me?" Anwar asked after we'd been driving for a while.

"No, I'm not angry."

"I wasn't trying to win, but you sounded firm," Anwar said softly, while I began to slowlyexhale and adjust my tone.

"I'm not angry."

"But..." he said, as if knowing my next words.

"But I still think it's too much. Those expensive things... if Mom wants them, she can buythem herself."

Anwar was silent for a moment. He ruffled his hair before muttering, "Is it that bad?"

"..."

"Do you know, when my mother visited Thailand when you were probably still young, yourmom gave her a villa costing tens of thousands of baht per night for several nights?" Anwarrecounted, still looking at the road ahead. "And a yacht too."

I sighed. After Anwar said that, the irritation I'd been holding in throughout the journeygradually subsided. No, I never knew about what Anwar had told me, but I wasn't thatsurprised. Mom loves the excitement when friends or someone from overseas visit Thailand.

Especially close friends; it didn't surprise me at all.

"And your mom even let me stay at her house," Anwar added.

"Anwar," I called out, a question popping into my mind. "Does my mom know anything aboutus?"

"Know about what?"

"About us... about you and me."

"Your mom doesn't know."

"Then your mother?"

"I only told her some parts," Anwar said, making me widen my eyes in shock. I had neverconsidered that before.

"What did you tell your mother?"

"Want to know?" Anwar turned, grinning. He quickly turned back to the road after less thantwo seconds. "I told her that I loved the child of a close friend, but I treated him badly, so heran away."

"..."

"And that I wanted to ask for another chance after I realized my mistake..."

"You did treat him badly," I mumbled, turning my face away to look out the window. My facewas starting to feel hot. I could hear a soft chuckle from Anwar.

"So now I want to be really good. I don't know if I can make up for it though."

It was a question.

He fell silent, as if waiting for an answer.

"If you can be really good, maybe," I replied calmly, trying not to smile or show anyembarrassment. When I looked back, I saw Anwar stealing glances at me with an expectantexpression. He looked like a big puppy waiting for praise. Seeing that, I added, "But maybeyou can't."

"Why do you say that? I'm good at being good."

"You're good at being good, I don't deny that. But sometimes, being too good can becomebad. Eventually, you might get bored of me first," I countered. Seeing Anwar falter, I pursedmy lips and looked down at my lap. "You probably already know that."

"I do," Anwar replied softly. The atmosphere in the car shifted slightly, until he reached outand took my hand, which was loosely resting on my lap. "Blue, I really don't have anyoneelse. And after this, I won't do what I've done my whole life to other people again."

His warm hand held mine gently, as if implanting confidence with that touch.

"If you let me have you, I'll only have you. I'll only care about you. I will only be good to you,because I can't do that to anyone else anymore. Do you understand?"

My heart pounded in my chest. My hand, held in his, tightened.

What should I do?

It felt warm, all the way from my chest to my fingertips.

"You don't have to believe what I'm saying yet, but at least for now, don't underestimate mylove. Please?"

"Mm-hmm."

I don't even know how we got here.

I remember an hour ago, I told him to get out of the car with me and confessed that I hadn'tactually made a date with anyone. My friends and I aren't that close; we don't drag eachother along everywhere we go. Sei, in particular, often goes for walks or buys books byhimself. Those are times I usually come alone.

After wandering aimlessly for several minutes, I decided to take him to a ramen shopdownstairs. Then we went upstairs to Kinokuniya bookstore. Anwar followed me initially. Hechatted with me about books and then stood playing on his phone while I sat down to read.After a while, he excused himself to the fashion section. When I finished choosing my book, Iwent to find him. His tall figure was the most striking in that area. He was flipping through alarge book, slowly glancing at the pictures. Several female students nearby kept lookingover at him, but Anwar seemed so absorbed in his own world that he didn't notice. I had towalk up close to call him.

After that, we started browsing clothing shops. I was looking for plain t-shirts, and I askedAnwar if he wanted to buy anything. He seemed hesitant at first, but when I said we hadnothing else to do except go home, Anwar started dragging me into shop after shop:

Balenciaga, Burberry, and now Bottega Veneta, where we are standing now.

He got two or three short-sleeved shirts, some cotton trousers, and a long-sleeved shirt.Anwar is someone who buys things easily, makes decisions quickly, and pays easily. That'sunlike me. When I buy something, I overthink it, especially clothes. I'm not naturally good atdressing myself, so when I buy clothes, I usually choose things that are easy to match withother items and can be worn on many occasions.

Anwar and I are worlds apart when it comes to shopping and fashion.

He has the eye of someone in the fashion industry. He skims through each display, like Iskim through exam questions. When he finds something he likes, he picks it up, holds itagainst himself, and goes to the mirror. He takes only a few seconds to decide whether toput it back or keep it. That's why we spend so little time in each shop. It's completelydifferent from me meticulously choosing clothes.

"You like that?" Anwar moved closer, staring at the bracelet I'd been looking at for severalminutes, my mind still trying to process everything we'd done that day.

"Uh, it's pretty," I replied simply.

"Want to try it on?" he asked.

Before I could even blink, Anwar was telling the sales assistant he wanted to try that one on.The cool metal of the bracelet against my wrist—a silver chain interspersed with creamybrown speckled stones. It was beautiful, stylish, and cute all at once.

"It suits you," he murmured, lightly tracing his thumb across my wrist and the bracelet beforeremoving his hand.

"But it's too expensive," I murmured, shifting my wrist slightly as if to take it off, but Anwarinterrupted.

"Can I buy it for you?" He looked up from the bracelet to meet my eyes. "It's not thatexpensive."

"You're saying that again. It's not expensive for you, but it is for me," I countered, finallytaking it off and handing it back to the nearby sales assistant.

"Exactly, it's not expensive for me, and I want to buy it for you."

I didn't answer, just stared back silently until Anwar raised both hands in a gesture ofsurrender, his beautiful eyes closing as he looked at another bracelet on display.

"If I buy you that one, and then tell you I want it, will you buy it back for me?" His unusualproposition made me furrow my brow. The bracelet he was now indicating was a simpleblack braided cord. It looked far cheaper than the one he'd offered me earlier.

A rope and silver... how could they possibly cost the same?

"You could buy yourself two, maybe even five, of those with the money you'd spend on theother one," I pointed out, holding up two fingers. Anwar's lips curved into a gentle smile. Henodded slightly, seemingly agreeing, but countered,

"Yes, but if you bought it for me, I'd like it more."

"..."

"It's payment for helping you dress that time, okay?" He brought up a long-ago incident, thetime he'd styled my outfit. It was a completely different style than I'd usually wear. I probablywould still be wearing my simple white Converse, jeans, a plain t-shirt, and a simple watch ifit weren't for him.

"Fine," I conceded. Anwar grinned widely and immediately spoke to the sales assistant.We left the Bottega Veneta shop with the bracelet around my wrist. We didn't stop to buyanything else. Anwar carried all our purchases, insisting on it even when I offered to help."Can I see it?" he said after we were seated in the car. I followed his gaze, lifting my wrist toeye level and asking,

"This?"

"Yeah."

I nodded, offering my hand. Anwar took it, his palm warm against mine. The contact mademe blush, and I lowered my gaze.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

"Do you like the blue rim?" he asked, referring to the bracelet.

"I like it..." I replied briefly, pressing my lips together to avoid smiling or making any strangeexpression.

My whole body tingled as he interlaced his fingers through mine and then gently kissed theback of my hand. I glanced up to see him smiling happily.

That smile... it meant more to me than the gift itself.

This was terrible.

"Can you let go now?" I tugged my hand, but he held it tighter, using his other hand to steerthe car out of the parking space.

"I don't want to... I want to hold it longer."

"An inch given, an ell taken," I retorted, using a Thai proverb.

"What?"

"It means you got your money's worth, and now you want more," I tried to explain the idiomin simpler terms. Anwar shook his head and chuckled softly.

I didn't know how much he actually understood, but his next question made me decide toshut up and remain silent for the rest of the ride.

"Hmm, so right now, you're letting me hold your hand, but would you reciprocate yourfeelings?"

For the first time ever, I allowed Anwar to play his aunt's Sunthraporn music in the car,instead of turning it off and chatting.







..








..







"My mom and dad are going on their honeymoon to Bana Hills in Vietnam. Did you know?" Ibegan, as Anwar walked into the dining room.

"Oh yeah? When are they going?" He casually flicked his head while pouring milk from thecarton into his cereal bowl. Ever since he'd been in Thailand, he'd been gobbling down mycereal boxes at an alarming rate. But because I remembered Anwar buying me things whenI was in New York, I didn't protest or complain.

After a few weeks, I had gotten used to Anwar being around almost constantly. If we hadn'tmet in America, I might genuinely see him as a brother, the son of a close friend of mymother's. He helped my mom and dad cook dinner almost every day – at the very least,he'd wash the vegetables. He volunteered to help my mom with the garden, helped me withquiz questions for my upcoming English exam, and even took me out to practice driving andparking around the village.

"Tonight."

"That fast?" Anwar raised an eyebrow, but his expression and tone were devoid of any realemotion.

"They like to do things spontaneously. They've been saving up their vacation time for ages.Suddenly deciding to go is probably because they saw something online or other."

"Are you going?"

"No. I have a final exam, and I don't want to go anyway," I answered quickly. I never enjoyedtraveling with my parents. They prefer relaxed, senior-citizen tours—fancy hotels andchauffeured cars. I much prefer traveling on my own, if given the option.

Anwar nodded, his handsome face looking weary, like someone who hadn't gotten enoughsleep. I knew he spent most of his time finishing his own work, which he needed to submitback in New York.

Seeing him struggling with his work in a place lacking the proper tools and equipment mademe feel guilty. I brought it up with him a couple of times, but each time Anwar just gave asmall smile and said it was worth it.

Spending every day together eventually became routine. My guard, which had been highinitially, gradually lowered until it was almost nonexistent. But no matter how close we sat onthe sofa watching Netflix, or how closely we stood while washing dishes, Anwar nevertouched me. There were only fleeting touches before he'd pull away.

After that night when we talked things out, we didn't hug, kiss, or do anything beyond holdinghands. He never initiated any further physical intimacy. Instead, I found myself questioninghim internally. Why? Why didn't he hug me? Why didn't he try to get closer?

Obsessed with finding answers, I spent much of the past few days subtly observing him. Irealized I was constantly stealing glances at Anwar, and he caught me every single time.Like now.

Anwar looked up at me and smiled, as if waiting for me to speak. When I remained silent, hedid the same thing he always did – softly asking,

"What is it?"

"I'm going out today."

"Should I drive you?"

"I have a date... with P'Phim," I blurted out the rest, my heart in my throat. Anwar froze,silent, but still maintaining eye contact.

I'd been avoiding P'Phim for days. I wouldn't answer his phone calls or texts, and I wouldn'tanswer calls from unknown numbers. After running away for so long because I didn't knowhow to talk to him, he finally texted, complaining that he'd exhausted every means ofcontacting me through our mutual friends, even bothering them while they were studying forexams.

Today is my last exam. It's the last day I might see P'Phim on campus. If things go as hesaid, and he finishes his extracurricular activities this semester, he won't have any reason tocome to class next semester. Since it's the last day, I'm taking the opportunity to talk to himand clear things up today.

"Okay," Anwar said, regaining his composure.

"Okay," I replied similarly.

"Do you want me to pick you up?" he asked. The question surprised me.

"So kind," I said slowly, shaking my head. "No, it's alright. I can manage myself."

"..."

"Are you sad that I'm going to see P'Phim?" I asked, noticing Anwar's unreadable expressionand the way his eyes had dimmed.

"I don't... I don't know what you intend to do."

"Do you want to know?"

"Do you want to tell me?" Anwar countered softly. "If you want to tell me, I want to listen. Butif you don't want to tell me, you don't have to."

"Why?" Anwar chuckled softly before a faint smile touched the corners of his lips.

"Because I did the same thing to you, didn't I? I didn't tell you a lot of things. So, if you don'twant to tell me something, it's okay."

I listened to him calmly. Telling Anwar wasn't a big deal to me. I wasn't going to do anythingwith P'Phim other than talk and clear things up. But because Anwar said that...

Maybe it's best not to tell him this time. I want to see how he'll react. He said he'd wait forme; I wonder if he'll really do as he says.