I pulled the sheer gray shirt from my suitcase, the fabric light and almost weightless in my hands.
When I slipped it on and looked at myself in the mirror, I honestly hadn't expected it to suit me this well. The way it fell over my shoulders, how it clung just enough without trying too hard—it felt unfamiliar, daring. Almost dangerous.
You could see everything through it.
And yet, I didn't feel exposed.
I knew, without a doubt, that this wasn't meant for anyone else's eyes.
This was for Chak.
Only for him.
The bathroom door opened behind me, and Taeng stepped out, towel draped over his shoulder. He froze the second he saw me.
"…It suits you," he said finally.
I smiled slightly. "Thanks."
I glanced back at my reflection, then added quietly, "Chak gave it to me. For tonight. For the yacht."
Taeng's eyebrows lifted. "Of course he did."
"I don't like that it shows so much," I admitted, fingers brushing the fabric at my chest. "But if it's just for tonight… then it's enough."
Taeng leaned against the doorframe, studying me with that knowing look of his.
"So," he asked casually, "when do you think you'll be back?"
I shook my head. "I honestly don't know."
Then, more seriously, I added, "I do know one thing though—we both need to be back before Non returns. Otherwise, I have no idea who would get us out of that mess."
Taeng laughed softly. "Our boyfriends, maybe?"
I turned to look at him. "And what exactly would they say if they found out we were with them? Or that we're actually in relationships?"
Taeng shrugged, still smiling. "Something. Definitely something."
That earned a quiet laugh from me.
I turned back to the mirror one more time, really looking at myself this time.
"…I can't go like this," I said finally.
I opened my suitcase again and pulled out my brown cardigan, slipping it on over the sheer shirt. The fabric softened everything, muted the boldness just enough to make me feel like myself again—at least on the outside.
Taeng nodded approvingly. "Better."
Then he glanced at the time. "We should go."
We left the room together, but once we reached the hallway, we split up—each heading toward a different night, a different kind of anticipation.
When I reached the front of the resort, a woman was waiting for me. I recognized her immediately—she had been on the yacht the day before.
"This way, Mr. Niran," she said politely.
She led me to a small car parked nearby. I got in, my heart already beating faster, and about ten minutes later we arrived at the pier.
I stepped out, the salty night air wrapping around me as I walked toward Chak's yacht.
With every step, the feeling grew stronger.
Butterflies in my stomach.
That tight, electric excitement I couldn't quite calm.
As soon as I stepped onto the deck and felt the warmth of the candles, I slowly slid the brown cardigan off my shoulders, letting the sheer shirt be seen by him alone.
Soft candlelight illuminated the deck, flickering gently, casting warm shadows everywhere. The air felt intimate, intentional—like the world had been carefully narrowed down to just this space.
And then Chak stepped forward.
He was holding a bouquet.
"For you," he said quietly. "Because every day, you show me what it means to be loved. And because you stay by my side—even when I try to push you away."
My breath caught.
"I know that in two days," he continued, voice steady but heavy with emotion, "everything will change for us."
He held my gaze.
"But my love for you won't."
For a few seconds, I couldn't speak.
"Chak…" I breathed.
I looked down at the flowers, my hands trembling slightly as I took them.
"I've never received a bouquet before," I admitted softly. "You're the first person who's ever given me one."
I looked back up at him, my chest tight but full.
"Even if you're getting married," I said quietly, honestly, "I'll stay by your side."
I stepped closer.
"I believe that our love can overcome anything."
And in that candlelit silence, standing on his yacht with the sea around us, I meant every single word.
Chak didn't say anything at first.
He simply stepped closer, his fingers brushing mine as he gently took the bouquet from my hands and set it aside. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, dark box.
My heart skipped.
Slowly—almost reverently—he opened it.
Inside lay a delicate silver chain. Hanging from it were two small charms: a tiny eagle with wings slightly spread, and beside it, a slender pencil.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
"This…" Chak said quietly, watching my face more than the necklace itself, "is for you."
I stared at it, my mind completely blank.
The eagle caught the candlelight, sharp and proud. Strong. Free.
The pencil was simple, understated—but it felt heavier somehow. Meaningful.
I swallowed hard.
"I know you don't always see yourself the way others do," Chak continued softly. "But to me, you're both."
He gently tapped the eagle. "Strong. Brave. Someone who keeps going, no matter how hard it gets." "He represents me."
Then his finger brushed the pencil.
"And this… this is you when you draw. When you create worlds and emotions out of nothing."
I finally looked up at him, my eyes burning.
"You notice everything," I whispered.
He smiled—small, real, a little vulnerable. "Only when it comes to you."
I reached out with shaking fingers, touching the necklace as if afraid it might disappear.
"I don't know what to say," I admitted. "I'm… I'm speechless."
"That's okay," Chak replied. "You don't have to say anything."
He lifted the chain carefully. "May I?"
I nodded.
He stepped behind me, his presence warm and steady, and fastened the necklace around my neck. His fingers brushed the back of my skin for just a second longer than necessary, sending a quiet shiver through me.
When he moved back in front of me, the charms rested against my chest, hidden only by the sheer fabric of my shirt.
I closed my fingers around them.
"I'll treasure this," I said softly. "Always."
Chak's gaze softened completely then.
"Good," he murmured. "Because it means you're never alone. Not really."
The candles flickered. The sea moved gently around us.
And in that moment, standing so close I could feel his breath, the world felt impossibly quiet—like it was holding its breath along with me.
Chak watched me for a second longer, then his lips curved into that quiet smile that always made my chest tighten.
"Turn it," he said softly.
I frowned slightly. "Turn it?"
"The necklace," he repeated, his voice gentle. "Turn it toward the light."
My fingers trembled as I lifted the chain, sliding the charms between my thumb and forefinger. I rotated them slowly, the candlelight catching on the metal—first the eagle, then the pencil.
And then I saw it.
Engraved on the back, so small I would've missed it if I hadn't been looking closely, were letters etched delicately into the silver.
N & C
For a moment, my mind refused to process it.
Then my breath hitched.
I lifted my eyes to Chak, disbelief written all over my face. "Chak…"
His expression softened completely, the confident man everyone else saw slipping away, leaving only him. Honest. Bare.
"It's us," he said quietly. "No matter what happens. No matter what changes."
My fingers closed tightly around the necklace as emotion flooded my chest, warm and overwhelming.
"You engraved our names," I whispered, my voice breaking despite my effort to stay steady.
He nodded once. "Because this—" he gently tapped the spot over my heart, "—this is real. And I want you to remember that. Even when I'm not there."
I shook my head slowly, a breathless laugh escaping through tears I hadn't realized were there. "You're not making this easy for me."
"I never planned to," Chak replied softly.
I stepped closer without thinking, the distance between us disappearing. The sea rocked the yacht gently, the candles flickered, and the world beyond us faded into nothing.
I pressed the necklace back against my chest.
"I'll never take it off," I said. "No matter what."
Chak reached up, his hand brushing my jaw, his thumb warm against my skin.
"That's all I wanted," he murmured.
And standing there, with N & C hidden in silver between us, I knew—whatever waited for us in two days, this moment would stay with me forever.
For a long moment, time simply stopped.
Chak's hand was still cupping my face, warm and steady, as if he was afraid I might disappear if he let go. The candles flickered around us, their light reflecting in his eyes, and suddenly the world felt unbearably small—just the two of us standing on this yacht, suspended between what was and what was about to come.
My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
He leaned in slowly, hesitating just enough to give me a choice.
I didn't need it.
I rose onto my toes and closed the distance myself, my fingers gripping the front of his shirt like an anchor. When our lips met, the kiss was gentle at first—soft, trembling, filled with all the words we were too afraid to say out loud.
I felt it everywhere.
In the way my breath caught.
In the way my chest tightened.
In the way my entire body leaned into his, as if it had always known where it belonged.
Chak's hand slid to my waist, pulling me closer, holding me like this moment was precious, fragile. The kiss deepened, unhurried, emotional rather than desperate—two hearts clinging to each other in the quiet before the storm.
For those few seconds, nothing else existed.
Not the wedding.
Not the future.
Not the fear of losing him.
Just us.
Just this.
When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads rested together, our breaths uneven. My lips tingled, my eyes burned, and I could feel my heart breaking and healing at the same time.
"I love you," Chak whispered, his voice shaking just enough to betray everything he was holding back.
My throat tightened.
"I love you too," I answered, the words falling from my lips without thought, without doubt.
He smiled then—soft, vulnerable, achingly real. The kind of smile he never showed anyone else.
And standing there, under the candlelight, the necklace resting against my chest and his arms around me, I understood something clearly.
No matter what happened, I would always remember this day with him.