Chapter 1
PART 1 – WILLIAM
The library felt too quiet for someone like William Jakrapatr—too still, too heavy, too suffocating for a boy whose mind normally danced like sunlight on water. Tonight, however, even his restless energy was drowning in deadlines. His end-of-semester assignment lay open in front of him, untouched, the blank page staring back as if judging every life choice he had ever made.
With a dramatic groan, William let his forehead drop beside his laptop. “I’m dying,” he declared.
Keen Suvijak dropped into the seat beside William with theatrical flair, accidentally knocking a pencil case off the table. “Dying is dramatic. End-of-semester is worse. It’s spiritual decay.”
Sea Dechchart, arriving with a quiet step, placed the pencil case back neatly as he sat across from them. “Keen,” he murmured, “keep your voice down. This is a library, not a stage.”
Keen flipped his hair. “Every space is my stage, babe.”
Sea refused to entertain Keen’s statement, instead he said, “And, you two decay every semester. It’s predictable.”
Keen gasped and leaned over to peck Sea’s cheek. “Babe, don’t expose us like that.”
Sea didn’t blush—he never did—but the corners of his eyes softened the way they always did when Keen was near. “Focus,” he reminded them, opening his laptop. “Some of us want to graduate.”
William rolled his eyes. “You say that like you aren’t already five assignments ahead.”
“That’s because I am five assignments ahead,” Sea replied without looking up. His voice was gentle, but the words stabbed.
Keen nudged William with a grin. “Look at him. My studious, sexy overachiever.”
Sea finally glanced up. “Keen.”
“What? It’s motivation.”
William groaned. “Can you two not flirt in front of a man struggling for his academic life?”
Keen gasped. “We’re inspiring you! Romance fuels creativity.”
Sea typed something efficiently before speaking, deadpan, “You don’t need romance. You need discipline and a functioning brain cell.”
William threw a pen at him. Sea dodged without looking up. Typical. He then groans again, appointing hopelessly at his blank screen. “This assessment is killing me.”
Keen leaned in, squinting at the title. “You haven’t even started.”
“That’s the killing part.”
Sea sighed. “You had two weeks.”
William slapped a hand over his heart. “Betrayal. From my own friend.”
Keen hummed dramatically. “Sea’s honest. It’s one of his charms.” Sea quietly typed. “And your lack of discipline is one of your disasters.”
Keen gasped. “Sea! You can’t just call my best friend a disaster!”
“You call him worse,” Sea replied, still typing.
“That’s different. Mine is affectionate.”
William chuckled despite himself. Their dynamic always made him feel lighter—Keen all sunshine and chaos, Sea the quiet moon pulling him back to sanity. Together, the two balanced him in ways he didn’t like to think too deeply about.
Silence drifted over their table after the chatter faded, settling softly around the three of them. The library seemed to breathe in that quiet, the world narrowing to the muted chorus of work—keys tapping in uneven pulses, pages turning like sighs, pencils gliding in patient strokes. It was a hush full of life, threaded through with the disciplined rhythm of students trying their best to survive the end of the semester.
Within that stillness, William’s chaotic assignment finally began to shape itself into something coherent. Thoughts that had refused to stay still all week slowly aligned, falling into place like puzzle pieces he didn’t know he’d already held. Even he seemed surprised by how his ideas suddenly flowed, hands moving faster, confidence returning with every line he wrote.
William wasn’t the sort of student who lacked brilliance; his mind sparkled with an easy, restless intelligence. He excelled in anything that allowed him to move—instruments, stages, practical assessments, the kind of work where his thoughts could run freely instead of being trapped behind long paragraphs and theories. But assignments that chained him to a chair, demanding hours of silence and the companionship of thick textbooks, always tested him in ways no exam ever did.
He tended to push those tasks to the edge of disaster, letting deadlines loom over him like approaching storms. Not because he couldn’t do the work, but because stillness was never his natural state. He was meant for energy, for motion, for light.
Yet here—surrounded by Keen’s newfound focused determination and Sea’s quiet concentration—William managed to remain seated, breathing, thinking, creating. The calm they carried seemed to anchor him, reminding him that even a sun could rest for a while.
And in the hush that held them all, his assessment finally began to bloom. For a fleeting moment, William almost looked studious.
Almost.
After two hours of stillness, William finally surrendered. The trigger was the faint sound on the far back of the library.
“… yes, P’Est.”
The name stirs something in William. He tried to focus again on his assignment, but to no avail his mind slipped away, it’s drifting back to the previous night.
The Sangaworawongs were over for dinner.
And Est… Est had been there.
Keen noticed. He looked at William for a moment, he also heard the name that had just been mentioned a few seconds ago. Keen then casually asked, “Family dinner yesterday… how was it?”
William stiffened so slightly only someone who knew him too well—like Keen and Sea—would notice. He didn’t answer right away, flipping a page of his notes to buy time.
“It was fine,” William finally answered.
Sea stopped typing. “Est was there, wasn’t he?”
William hated how fast his heartbeat jumped.
Est Supha Sangaworawong.
William could still remember the moment Est walked into the dining room—calm posture, neat uniform shirt, hair slightly tousled from the breeze outside. He greeted William’s parents with a polite bow, then greeted William with that gentle, distant smile.
Everyone at campus knew who Est was—brilliant, calm, quietly adored. But William knew him from far earlier. Their families had shared countless dinners, polite gatherings, charity events, holidays where their parents toasted to their “enduring friendship.”
William grew up watching Est across long dining tables—steady posture, soft smiles, a gentle aura that drew attention without demanding it. While William burst with loud laughter and bright energy, Est shone softly like moonlight—beautiful, distant, untouchable.
And William… fell in love long before he understood what falling meant.
But Est?
The few conversations they shared were brief nods, polite smiles, a “how have you been?” spoken with the tone one used for friendly acquaintances rather than someone who had memorized the sound of his laughter.
William had tried to make conversation during last night’s dinner—about books, about campus life, about anything—but Est had replied kindly, briefly, then shifted his attention elsewhere.
William knew why.
Est thought he was childish.
Too loud.
Too playful.
Too unserious.
William never let it show—his crush, his foolish little longing. He kept it tucked behind his easy grin, protected like a wound that would never heal if touched.
Keen poked him again. “Earth to William?”
“Yeah?”
“Let me guess—he still treats you like a hyperactive golden retriever,” Keen teased.
William threw a paper ball at him. “Shut up.” Keen caught it easily.
Sea looked up, “He’s blind if he can’t see how much you’ve grown.”
“He’s not blind,” William muttered under his breath. “He just… sees me the way he always has.” Which hurt more than William would ever admit aloud.
William then rolled his eyes and looked back to his laptop to end the topic. But Keen, being William’s mischievous-twins, leaned forward with a grin. “So, I heard something interesting today.”
Sea’s voice softened, “If it’s about Est, don’t.”
William froze. “Wait—what about Est?”
Keen’s grin widened. “Ohhh, so you do want to hear it.”
Sea shut his laptop with a soft click. “Keen, he needs to focus on his assessment.”
“What?” Keen flopped dramatically in his chair. “Let me share academic gossip. This is educational.”
William gripped his pen. “What gossip?”
Keen paused, savoring the drama. “A group of freshmen from the Business Faculty were talking in the canteen today.”
William blinked. “Since when do you listen to freshmen?”
“They were loud,” Keen protested. “And juicy.”
Sea pinched the bridge of his nose.
Keen continued, leaning in until his elbows touched the table. “Apparently—one of the girls from their department tried to confess to Est again. With cupcakes. Cute ones. The pastel kind with little stars.”
William’s heart squeezed painfully. “Right.”
“But,” Keen held up a finger, “listen to the important part. She confessed in front of the student lounge. Public, dramatic, very you-coded.”
“I don’t confess dramatically,” William protested.
“You breathe dramatically,” Sea corrected.
Keen nodded. “Anyway—she confesses. Says she’s liked him since orientation. Gives him the cupcakes. And Est—”
William braced himself.
“—smiled politely, thanked her, then said: ‘I don’t accept sweets from people I don’t know well.'”
William blinked. “That’s… Est being Est. Polite but firm.”
“And,” Keen added, eyes shining, “the girl didn’t cry!”
William raised a brow. “Really?”
Keen leaned back in his chair. “Apparently, when he rejected her, it was so gently done it felt like being wrapped in a blanket. They say being refused by Est is like receiving spiritual guidance from a monk.”
Sea snorted softly, rare but real. “That sounds accurate.”
William pressed his palm to his forehead, felt silly for thinking Est would accept a confession of love from a new student he didn’t know.
And, of course.
Of course Est could reject someone and still seem like an angel.
Keen’s eyes sparkled with unfiltered mischief. “They also said—get this, we finally got an answer for your forever question—Even though we already know he had some ‘fling’, Est actually never officially dates. Ever. Zero dating history. Zero lovers sneaking out of his dorm. Zero nothing.”
“Because he’s focused on his studies,” Sea said. “And because he has standards.”
Keen elbowed William. “Standards you could meet if you stopped acting like a golden retriever in human form.”
“I’m not a golden retriever,” William muttered, cheeks warm.
Keen grinned. “Sweetheart, you’re a golden retriever with a gay agenda and a death wish.”
Sea nodded. “That is accurate.”
William groaned.
But deep down…
he wondered.
“Was it accurate tho?” William asked. Keen nodded with a whole new level of antusiasm, “For this one, I heard it directly from P’Pond’s conversation with his line-junior!”
Well, he knew Est had some fling and one-night-stand (blame it to his friend-Keen-gossipy ability).
But… Had Est really never dated?
Never shown seirous-romantic interest in anyone?
But Pond Naravit is one of Est’s best friend, it’s impossible that he doesn’t know about Est’s love interest or past relationship. The idea made William’s heart do something stupid.
Hopeful.
“Okay, enough daydreaming, Willy. You need to focus more. And you too, Keen!” Sea’s voice was final, in which William and Keen both forced themself to focus back on research.
By the time the library lights flickered, signaling closing time, William had packed his things with a sigh heavy enough to wilt flowers.
Keen slung an arm around Sea while saying, “Okay, tomorrow. Group study. We’ll finish this damn assignment together.”
Sea nodded. “We’re not letting you die.”
William’s throat tightened. “Thanks.”
He loved them.
He loved them so much it sometimes made him want to cry.
~*~
Leaving campus felt like stepping out of one world and into another. The night air was cool against William’s skin, brushing away the leftover tension from the library. He waved goodbye as Keen dragged Sea toward his car—Keen loud and chaotic, Sea resigned but fond—and William found himself smiling despite the weight gathering in his stomach.
The drive home was quiet. The city lights blurred past his window, the soft hum of traffic weaving into something almost meditative. Almost—not quite. Because beneath it all, a nervousness he didn’t understand coiled tighter and tighter.
As soon as he stepped through the front door of the Kaewpanpong residence, the smell of jasmine rice and lemongrass soup greeted him like a gentle embrace.
And so did his mother.
“Willy!” she called from the kitchen.
William grinned instantly. The exhaustion hanging over him evaporated in the presence of his mother—Kaewpanpong matriarch, elegant socialite, destroyer of weak-willed society men, but absolutely soft when it came to her only son.
“Ma,” he called back dramatically, dropping his bag with a thud. “Your starving, suffering, academically tortured child has returned.”
His mother appeared in the doorway with a ladle in hand. “Starving? Suffering? You look like someone who spent money on sweet-milky drinks again instead of eating real food.”
William gasped, placing a hand over his chest. “How dare you expose me the moment I get home.”
She flicked his forehead with the ladle. “Go wash your hands. Dinner is almost ready.” He stuck his tongue out at her as he walked past, but she only rolled her eyes.
Despite being the wife of one of the richest men in Thailand, surrounded by tons of servants, Mrs. Kaewpanpong always took her time in the kitchen, personally cooking for her beloved husband and son. She believes there’s no one suitable for the power of food more than the lady of the house. The way into men’s hearts is food after all.
William’s father was already at the dining table, glasses perched low on his nose as he read something on his tablet. “Welcome home, son.”
Mr. Kaewpanpong was a man carved from discipline and legacy—stern, intelligent, respected, and terrifying to almost everyone except the two people in this house. Even then… only to a certain extent.
“Good evening, Dad,” William greeted, less dramatic than moments before.
His father looked up from his tablet, expression unreadable but gaze softening in the smallest way. “Welcome home, William.”
“Long day?” William asked cautiously.
“As always,” his father replied, tone cool but not cold. “Your mother said you were studying late.”
“Oh? She ratted me out already?”
His father’s eyebrow lifted. “You are free to correct her if she is wrong.”
William immediately shook his head. “Nope. Perfect accuracy. High-quality reporting.”
His father almost—almost—smirked. “As expected.”
Dinner was served soon after, warm and comforting in contrast to the rigid atmosphere that naturally surrounded his father. His mother chatted lightly about her day, the latest chatter among society ladies, little neighborhood stories. William responded with exaggerated reactions, playing the role of dramatic son because it always made her laugh.
His father listened quietly, eating with impeccable manners, only speaking when necessary.
Yet underneath the table, William felt it—the shift.
A tension. Subtle but present.
Something was coming.
His mother placed more vegetables on his plate. “Eat, Willy.”
“Ma, that’s a mountain.”
“Then climb it.”
William pouted dramatically. “Nobody respects my boundaries.”
His father set down his utensils with a soft clink, gaze leveling on his son. “Boundaries are earned through maturity, William. Something you are still working toward.”
William huffed. “Ouch, Pa. That’s harsh.”
“But fair,” his father said without blinking.
His mother sighed. “Don’t bully him during dinner.”
“I am not bullying him,” his father countered. “I am raising him.”
William silently shoveled rice into his mouth.
Dinner continued—warm, familiar—but the tension grew thicker with every passing minute. His parents exchanged glances. His father’s jaw tightened subtly. His mother’s smile wavered at the edges. William felt something cold slip down his spine.
Finally, when the plates were half-empty, his mother placed her spoon down carefully. “Willy,” she said softly. “We… need to talk to you about something important.”
William’s heart stuttered. He glanced at his father instinctively. Mr. Kaewpanpong sat straighter—broad shoulders squared, posture almost formal. This was his business posture. His family legacy posture.
Not good.
“What’s wrong?” William asked, voice too light. “Did I do something? Is it about grades? Keen said he submitted something with a meme once, so technically I’m still better—”
“It’s not about your grades,” his father said firmly.
His mother exchanged another look with him.
Then his father spoke, voice deep, controlled, carrying the weight of generations behind it.
“William,” he began, “our family and the Sangaworawong family have maintained a bond of trust and alliance for decades. Our wealth, our businesses, our status—we built them alongside that family.”
William stayed silent.
His father continued, tone neither cruel nor gentle—simply unyielding. “Your mother and I had a deep talk with them last night to discuss our future. And yours.”
William swallowed hard.
“Our two families have long hoped to strengthen our bond,” his mother joined. “You know this. You’ve grown up attending dinners with the Sangaworawongs.”
William nodded carefully.
“We have proposed,” his father said, “an arrangement.”
His mother reached for William’s hand immediately, squeezing it. “A marriage arrangement,” she clarified softly.
William’s breath hitched. “A-A marriage…? With who?”
His father’s voice dropped lower, firm as stone. “Originally, the arrangement was for Earn. But circumstances changed.”
His mother inhaled, steady but gentle. “I realized we were asking the impossible of you.” His mother glanced at William, warmth and apology in her eyes.
“We told them about you,” she said gently. “About your sexuality.”
William froze.
His stomach twisted.
His heart slammed.
“And,” his father continued, “Mrs. Sangaworawong, Mint, revealed that Est is… compatible with this arrangement.”
William stared. “Compatible?” he repeated, stunned.
“As in,” his mother whispered, “bisexual. He came out before taking his post-graduate program.”
The world tilted.
His father leaned forward, expression unreadable. “Both families agreed it is a suitable match. Beneficial. Stable. Respectable. And more importantly legal.”
William’s mouth went dry. “Pa… you’re saying…”
His father didn’t soften. “Yes.”
Every sound in the room faded. Every breath caught. His mother squeezed his hand tighter. “Willy… honey…”
But it was his father who delivered the final blow—calm, heavy, absolute.
“You and Est,” he said, “are to be engaged.”
~*~
The night didn’t shatter when William reached his room—it simply folded around him, soft and heavy, like a velvet curtain drawn too suddenly. He closed his bedroom door with a click that felt far too gentle for the chaos storming inside him. His breath stuttered out of him in uneven waves as he leaned back against the door, hands trembling, pulse roaring in his ears.
Engaged.
To Est.
The word engaged clung to him like static, clinging to his skin, clinging to the walls, clinging to the air he tried to breathe. It pulsed through his veins, too warm, too wild, too impossible.
He slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest. The polished wood beneath him was cool, grounding, but nothing could steady the whirlwind spinning in his mind.
This was everything he had ever wanted.
And everything he feared.
William pressed a hand over his mouth, as if he could physically hold the truth back. But the moment he closed his eyes—
Est appeared.
Est at the dinner table last night, posture soft but polite.
Est on campus, quietly reading beneath the shade of an old banyan tree.
Est, who looked at him with polite fondness—but never with longing.
Est, who had no idea about the tornado of feelings inside William’s chest.
A laugh escaped him. Brittle. Too sharp to be humorous. Too soft to be stable.
“Engaged,” he whispered into his palms. “To Est.” His heart fluttered traitorously—full, foolish, hopeful. But dread was heavier. Because if there was one thing William feared more than rejection, more than humiliation…
…it was the possibility of becoming a burden to the person he loved.
Downstairs, a faint clinking of dishes echoed from the dining room—the sound of his mother helping the servants cleaning up, of his father giving quiet orders to the staff, of his world shifting into a new orbit without pausing to ask how he felt about it.
William tilted his head back, bumping the door lightly.
He already knew what tomorrow would bring.
Questions. Expectations. Plans whispered over tea between their mothers. Documents drafted between their fathers. Formalities. Meetings. Polite smiles. Unspoken obligations.
And Est.
Est, who would sit across from him with composed eyes and that soft voice.
Est, who would probably accept the arrangement because he was dutiful.
Est, who would treat him with kindness—
But not love.
Not the kind William had spent half his life drowning in.
He let his arms fall to the sides and stared at the ceiling, breath trembling. “Pa…” he whispered into the emptiness, though he knew his father couldn’t hear him. “I’m not ready.”
The confession hung in the air, fragile and thin.
He wasn’t ready to be someone worthy of Est’s respect. He wasn’t ready to stand beside someone so composed, so controlled, so impossibly distant. He wasn’t ready to be measured by family legacy, wealth, status—the very things his father valued. He wasn’t ready to pretend that his heart wasn’t already bruised with longing. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.
He didn’t know how long he stared at the floor before a knock sounded—gentle, familiar.
“Will?” his mother’s voice floated through the door, warm and careful in a way that made something inside him crumble. A moment later she stepped inside, carrying a small plate of coconut pudding topped with a little purple flower. His favorite. One she only made when he was struggling with something he didn’t want to admit aloud.
“I thought you might need something sweet,” she said, setting the dessert on his bedside table. Then she looked at him—really looked. “You didn’t finish dinner.”
William tried to smile. “Turn out I wasn’t that hungry.”
His mother hummed softly, unconvinced, and brushed a thumb over his cheek the way she used to when he was a child. “Come,” she whispered, nodding toward his balcony. “Let’s get some air.”
He followed her outside. The night was cool and tender, city lights blinking below like scattered fireflies. William wrapped his arms around the railing, leaning forward as if the world could steady him if he leaned hard enough.
His mother stood beside him, not pushing, not prying—just present.
They watched the quiet sky for a moment before she spoke. “You’ve been holding your breath since we told you.”
William’s throat tightened. “I’m not… upset,” he said. “I just—” His voice broke into a laugh, thin and shaky. “I don’t know what I am.”
His mother waited patiently. She always did.
William exhaled, long and trembling. “Mom… I need to tell you something. About Est.”
Her head tilted slightly. Not surprised—only gentle. “I know you two aren’t close,” she said softly. “But I’ve always sensed there was something in the way you look at him. A little too bright. A little too careful.”
The words caught him off guard.
He blinked, stunned.
His mother smiled. “I am your mother, darling. I notice things.”
The tightness in his chest loosened just enough for truth to slip out.
“I’ve liked him for years,” William confessed, voice barely a breath. “Not a crush. Not something stupid. I—” He swallowed hard. “Every time our families had dinner together, I tried to act normal. I joked too much or talked too loud because I didn’t know how else to look at him without giving myself away.”
His fingers clenched around the balcony railing.
“And he always looked at me like I was… childish. Annoying. Someone he had to tolerate.” He laughed weakly. “I can’t blame him. I was childish. And a mess.”
His mother reached out, threading her fingers through his. “You were young,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”
But William shook his head. “I don’t think he ever liked me, Mom. Not as a person. And now—this engagement?” His voice strained with fear he had never admitted to anyone. “What if he hates me for it? What if he thinks I’m forcing him? What if I ruin everything he wants for himself?” Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, frustration threading through them. “I don’t want to be the reason he feels trapped.”
His mother squeezed his hand, her expression softening with a depth that made William’s heart ache. “Will… Est is older, and quieter, and he carries his emotions differently. You see sunlight in everything, and he sees starlight. But that doesn’t mean he dislikes you.”
“You don’t know that,” William whispered.
“I know that Est is kind,” she said gently. “And thoughtful. And I know he respects you. He may not show it the way you hope, but he does.”
William looked away, blinking rapidly.
“And more importantly,” she continued, “engagements are not cages. They are beginnings. And beginnings can be reshaped by the people who step into them.”
He swallowed, heart trembling. “I’m scared, Mom.”
She pulled him into a slow embrace, warm and grounding. “Of course you are. You’re in love, and you feel small next to that love. But you’re not alone. You never have been.”
William closed his eyes, letting himself lean into her shoulder.
“You and Est will have time,” she whispered. “Two months until his graduation. Time to speak. Time to understand each other. Time to build something real before anything is announced.” Her hand smoothed his hair. “Give yourself the chance. Give him the chance.”
William didn’t answer right away. The city continued to glow beneath them, quiet and infinite. The night breeze brushed his skin like a promise he didn’t dare believe yet.
He finally whispered, “I just hope he won’t look at me the way he always has.”
His mother pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“You’re not the same boy he used to look at,” she murmured. “Maybe—just maybe—he isn’t the same boy watching you anymore either.”
Under the quiet sky, with the taste of fear and hope tangled in his chest, William allowed himself to breathe again.
He wasn’t ready for what the next two months would bring—but as the city lights flickered below, William realized he was finally willing to try.