Night draped itself over the university town. Streetlights flickered to life one by one, their glow stretching across the quiet roads.
Inside, the two women sat surrounded by open papers and half-finished work—but neither was reading anymore.
The air between them burned warmer than the room itself.
Parin leaned against the bedframe, her hair tousled, shirt half undone, eyes bright with mischief and tenderness alike. Confidence radiated from her effortlessly—so blinding that Manida could barely meet her gaze.
Manida still wore her gold-rimmed glasses, the picture of composure—but the papers in her hands trembled. Eventually, the sheet slipped from her grasp, falling soundlessly to the floor.
"If you keep looking at me like that," she murmured, "I really won't be able to stay calm."
Parin smiled, reaching out to remove her glasses and set them aside. Her fingers brushed her cheek.
"You don't need to be calm," she whispered.
And before Manida could reply, Parin kissed her.
It began softly, tentatively—but soon deepened, their breaths tangling, restraint dissolving. Manida's defenses crumbled; her hands trembled as they found Parin's shoulders.
When the night finally swallowed them whole, all that remained was the rhythm of their hearts and the whispered sound of names.
Afterward, Manida lay in Parin's arms, tracing idle circles against her chest. Her voice was quiet, trembling.
"Parin… sometimes I wonder—what if I lose you one day?"
Parin hesitated, her expression flickering. Then she smiled faintly and pressed a kiss to her hair.
"Foolish girl. You won't lose me."
"But fate never gives us what we want," Manida whispered.
Parin didn't answer. She only silenced her with a long, lingering kiss.
Neither of them noticed—the shadow of fate was already creeping closer.
A few nights later, Manida stood alone at the campus gate. Parin had gone to a late conference in the city, promising to meet her afterward.
Under the streetlight, a black sedan idled nearby. Inside, a man smoked silently, his eyes cold with hatred and obsession.
He was the same professor who had long harbored unspoken feelings for Manida—rejected again and again until jealousy consumed him.
"If she's gone," he muttered, crushing the cigarette beneath his shoe, "you'll finally be mine."
Down the road, Parin appeared, coffee in hand. When she spotted Manida, her smile broke through the night. Manida turned at the sound of her footsteps, relief softening her face.
For a fleeting moment, everything felt peaceful.
Then the engine roared. Headlights flared.
The car lunged forward.
Manida gasped, instinctively trying to push Parin away—but Parin moved first, pulling her into her arms and shielding her from the oncoming light.
"Parin—!"
The screech of tires split the air. The crash echoed like thunder.
When the world stilled again, Parin lay on the ground, blood seeping through her clothes. Her eyes fluttered, unfocused, yet she managed to lift a trembling hand to caress Manida's cheek.
"Don't cry… I told you… I won't let you lose me…"
Her voice faded to a whisper.
Manida clutched her hand, tears streaming uncontrollably as sirens wailed in the distance.
The black car disappeared into the night.
Fate had finally reached out—and shattered everything.