The Bangkok schedule was coming to an end.
Fiona's friend, Eric, offered to host a farewell dinner. Yeh had met him a few times before—an ad agency owner in Bangkok, with other ventures on the side. The kind of man people described as promising.
The restaurant was a well-known private kitchen in Sukhumvit. Night had just settled. The lighting was soft, the atmosphere easy.
When they walked in, Fiona and Eric were already there, seated side by side.
Yeh's eyes flicked over the table arrangement.
Something in her tightened.
She didn't want Lin sitting across from Eric.
The thought surfaced before she could stop it.
"You should take the inside seat," Yeh said quickly. "By the window. The view's better."
It sounded reasonable enough.
Lin shook her head, her tone calm, almost matter-of-fact.
"You sit there. You like the view more."
Yeh opened her mouth, then closed it again.
The refusal wasn't forceful—just firm enough to leave no room.
In the end, Lin sat across from Eric.
Yeh took the seat beside her.
It was Eric's first time meeting Lin. He introduced himself, then complimented her—Beautiful.
The word landed lightly, but something in Yeh sank.
She knew it wasn't his fault. In any other situation, she wouldn't have thought twice about it.
But now, the discomfort was undeniable.
It took her a second to recognize it.
Possessiveness.
And the realization made her feel, faintly, ashamed.
Strangely—
if it were Jing, she would have felt nothing like this. She had already accepted, almost assumed, that Lin and Jing belonged together. If Lin liked her, Yeh would have been happy for her.
But with a man—
she couldn't explain the shift.
The dinner went on.
Eric and Lin fell into easy conversation, laughter coming naturally between them.
Yeh knew Lin was like that with everyone. Warm. Open. Effortless.
She knew it didn't mean anything.
And still—
she felt it, sharp and quiet.
Jealousy.
She tried to reason it away.
It's normal.
Of course people are drawn to her.
Someone like her will always be liked.
The dishes arrived one after another.
Yeh picked up her chopsticks, took a bite, set them down again.
She couldn't even remember the taste.
Her attention had already drifted elsewhere—
caught in the rhythm between Lin and Eric, in the way their conversation moved without friction.
And then it hit her.
Lin wasn't only gentle with her.
The thought shouldn't have mattered.
But it did.
More than she expected.
She recognized it clearly now—the jealousy, the quiet sense of claim she had no right to.
The moment she named it, she almost rejected it.
What right do I have?
Jing hasn't said anything.
I'm the one who told her—I don't like women in real life.
But emotions didn't follow logic.
The discomfort stayed.
Real. Unresolved.