Today marks the second and final day of P'Fah's brief visit home. She'd mentioned last night that she wouldn't be back for another three months, too busy preparing for her exams. The thought weighed on me more than I cared to admit. Three months without her felt like an eternity.
She didn't have any plans with me for today, but I had one for her—a small surprise to make our limited time together feel special. Quietly, I made my way to her room, where she lay peacefully, her breathing soft and even. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over her features.
I didn't wake her right away. Instead, I stood by her bedside, just watching her. Her face, so serene and unguarded in sleep, made my heart ache in the sweetest way. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers brushing against her cheek. Her skin was warm, and I let my hand linger, tracing small, invisible patterns as if committing every detail to memory.
"P'Fah," I whispered softly, not wanting to startle her. She stirred slightly, her lashes fluttering, but she didn't wake. I smiled, leaning down a little closer. "Wake up, sleepyhead," I murmured, echoing her words from yesterday. "We've got plans today."
This time, her eyes opened slowly, heavy with sleep. She blinked up at me, a faint, drowsy smile curving her lips. "Kwan… what time is it?" she asked, her voice low and husky from sleep.
"Still early," I replied, sitting on the edge of her bed. "But I couldn't let you sleep all day. We've only got today, and I have something special planned."
She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? What's so special that it can't wait?"
I grinned, standing up and pulling her gently by the hand. "You'll see. But you have to get ready first."
With a sigh, she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "You're not going to give me any hints, are you?"
"Nope," I said, shaking my head. "It's a surprise."
As she got up and started to prepare for the day, I felt a renewed sense of excitement. Today would be ours—a day to escape the looming reality of her leaving and create another memory to carry me through the months ahead.
P'Fah stepped into the living room, her brows knitting together as she spotted the old camera sitting on the coffee table. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands, the weight of nostalgia evident in her eyes.
"Why did you bring out this old thing?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity. "What's it for?"
I couldn't help but grin as I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You'll find out soon enough," I replied, a teasing lilt in my tone. "Just trust me."
She narrowed her eyes at me playfully, setting the camera down. "Kwan, you're being suspicious. What are you up to?"
I laughed, unable to contain my excitement. "Let's just say we're going to capture some memories today," I said, walking over and picking up the camera. "It's been sitting in the attic for years. I thought it'd be fun to use it for something special."
P'Fah shook her head, but I caught the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "You always were the sentimental one," she said softly. "Alright, what's the plan?"
I pulled a small box of film from my pocket, holding it up triumphantly. "We're going on a little adventure. Just the two of us. We'll visit some of our favorite spots from when we were kids, and I'll document everything. That way, even when you're stuck studying for months, you'll have something to look back on."
Her expression softened, and for a moment, she looked at me like she used to when we were younger—like I was her whole world. "You're really something, you know that?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah, yeah," I said, brushing off her compliment with a wave of my hand. "Now go grab your things. We've got a lot of memories to make today."
With a laugh, she disappeared into her room to get ready. I turned the camera over in my hands, imagining the day ahead. I could already picture the two of us at the old park, the funfair, maybe even the little café we used to love. Each click of the shutter would freeze a moment in time, a tangible piece of us to hold onto while we were apart.
Today wasn't just about the memories—it was about holding onto her, even when distance tried to pull us away.
I grabbed my father's car keys from the counter and held them up triumphantly.
P'Fah, who was still tying her sneakers, raised an eyebrow at me.
"I'll be driving today," I announced with a wide grin.
Her eyes widened slightly, and she straightened up. "Wait, what? Since when do you drive?" she asked, crossing her arms, a mix of skepticism and surprise on her face.
I couldn't hide my excitement as I twirled the keys around my finger. "I've been quietly working on getting my driver's license while you were away," I explained. "I wanted to surprise you. Actually," I added with a sheepish smile, "I only got it today."
Her mouth fell open slightly, and then she burst into laughter. "You're serious?
You kept this a secret the whole time?"
I nodded, feeling a bit smug. "Yup. I figured it'd be a nice surprise. Now you can sit back and relax while I drive us around."
She shook her head in disbelief but couldn't suppress the smile spreading across her face. "You're full of surprises today, Kwan. Alright, let's see what you've got."
We made our way to the car, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as I slid into the driver's seat. P'Fah climbed in beside me, her gaze lingering on me as if she was seeing me in a new light.
"Don't crash us, okay?" she teased, trying to fasten her seatbelt.
I noticed P'Fah struggling a bit with her seatbelt. Without thinking, I leaned over to help her. My hands gently guided the strap into the buckle, and as I clicked it into place, I realized just how close we were.
Our faces were barely an inch apart. I could feel the warmth of her breath and see every delicate detail of her face—the soft curve of her lips, the faint freckles dusted across her nose, and the way her lashes fluttered slightly as she blinked. My heart began to race, each beat louder than the last.
For a moment, everything seemed to slow down. The world outside the car melted away, leaving just the two of us suspended in this fleeting, intimate moment. I felt an overwhelming urge to stay there, to let my gaze linger on her and to memorize every inch of her face. But then, reality crashed back in, and a wave of shyness washed over me.
I quickly pulled back, my cheeks burning. "All set," I muttered, avoiding her eyes as I sank back into my seat. My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to steady myself.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw P'Fah smirk. "Thanks," she said softly, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. She didn't say anything else, but I could feel her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer.
As we pulled out of the driveway, a comfortable silence settled between us. The streets were quiet in the early morning, and the city felt like it belonged to just the two of us. I glanced over at her from time to time, catching her looking out the window, a soft smile on her lips.
"Where are we going first?" she finally asked, her voice filled with curiosity.
I tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. "It's a surprise. But don't worry, it's somewhere you'll love."
She gave me a mock sigh, but her eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Fine, I'll let you have your secrets for now."
As we drove, I felt a sense of freedom, a quiet thrill in knowing that I was the one taking her on this journey. It wasn't just about the destination—it was about these moments, the simple act of being together, creating new memories in the places we once held dear.
I focused on the road ahead, hoping the drive would help me shake off the nervous energy. But even as I started the engine, the memory of our closeness lingered, warming me from the inside out. It was a small moment, but it felt significant— as if, in that brief exchange, something unspoken had passed between us.
The road stretched out before us, promising new memories and shared adventures. Yet, my mind kept circling back to that near-kiss of a moment, wondering if P'Fah had felt the same quiet electricity that had left me breathless.
I decided to take us to DD Mall, a place that held a special kind of nostalgia for both of us. It was the same mall our dad used to bring us to when we were kids, back when he'd spend hours searching for vintage cameras. I knew how much P'Fah cherished those memories, and more than that, I knew her love for all things vintage. Whether it was old records, classic novels, or retro fashion, she had a soft spot for items that carried stories of the past.
As we pulled into the parking lot, I glanced over at her, watching her eyes light up with recognition. "DD Mall? I haven't been here in ages," she said, her voice tinged with excitement.
"I thought it'd be fun to take a little trip down memory lane," I replied, grinning. "Plus, I figured you might want to check out the vintage camera shops. You know, for old times' sake."
She gave me a warm smile, the kind that made my chest tighten in the best way. "You remember that, huh? Dad would be so proud."
We stepped into the mall, and it was as if time had stood still. The place still had the same eclectic charm: rows of tiny stalls crammed with all kinds of treasures— antique watches, vinyl records, retro clothing, and, of course, the vintage cameras that lined the shelves of several shops. The smell of old paper and leather wafted through the air, instantly transporting us back to those childhood weekends spent exploring with Dad.
We wandered through the aisles, stopping occasionally to admire some of the items. P'Fah's eyes sparkled as she picked up a Polaroid camera, running her fingers over its worn leather case. "This is exactly like the one Dad used to have," she murmured, her voice soft with nostalgia.
I leaned in to get a closer look. "I remember him taking pictures of us with it.
You'd always pose like a model, and I'd just make silly faces."
She laughed, her laughter echoing through the quiet stall. "And he'd always say, 'Fah, you're so elegant. Kwan, you're a little rascal.'"
I chuckled, the memory warming my heart. "Those were good times."
As we moved on, I caught sight of an old film camera tucked away in a corner. It looked like it had seen better days, but something about it drew me in. "What do you think about this one?" I asked, picking it up and showing it to her.
P'Fah examined it closely, her expression thoughtful. "It's beautiful," she said. "It might need a little work, but it has character. Cameras like this have captured so many stories over the years."
I could see the wheels turning in her mind, and I knew she was already imagining the kind of photos she could take with it. "Why don't we get it?" I suggested. "Consider it an early gift from me."
Her eyes widened. "Kwan, you don't have to—"
"I want to," I interrupted, smiling. "Besides, it'll be nice to have something that reminds us of Dad and all the times we spent here."
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her smile soft and genuine. "Thank you, Kwan. This means a lot."
As we walked out of the stall, the camera carefully cradled in her hands, I felt a sense of satisfaction. It wasn't just about the gift; it was about creating a new memory in a place that had always been special to us. And seeing P'Fah's happiness made every second worth it.
As we wandered through the mall, I couldn't resist pulling out the old camera I'd brought along. While P'Fah was engrossed in inspecting the vintage film camera, her fingers delicately tracing its frame, I quietly raised the lens and snapped a photo of her.
The soft click of the shutter went unnoticed, but I paused to look at the image that had just been captured. There she was, bathed in the soft, warm light filtering through the narrow windows of the mall. Her eyes gleamed with quiet fascination, her lips slightly parted in concentration as she admired the vintage camera in her hands.
She looked serene, almost ethereal, the kind of beauty that didn't need any posing or pretense.
I couldn't help but smile. There was something captivating about P'Fah in moments like this, when she was surrounded by the things she loved. Whether it was sifting through stacks of old records or losing herself in a well-worn novel, her passion always shone through. And right now, watching her fall in love with this old piece of craftsmanship, she seemed truly in her element.
"Did you just take a picture of me?" she asked suddenly, her voice snapping me out of my reverie. She turned to face me, one brow arched in playful suspicion.
Caught red-handed, I laughed nervously and held up the camera. "Guilty as charged. You just looked... really beautiful, and I couldn't resist."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. "You're such a dork," she said, though her smile betrayed her amusement. "Let me see it."
I handed her the camera, and she leaned in close to inspect the photo. Her expression softened as she stared at the image. "It's not bad," she admitted. "You've got a good eye."
"Thanks," I replied, feeling a warm glow of pride. "But I think it's more about the subject. You're always at your most beautiful when you're doing something you love."
P'Fah gave me a sidelong glance, her smile turning a shade more bashful. "You're getting better at flattery, Kwan."
We continued exploring the mall, but now I found myself sneaking more candid shots of her. There was one of her laughing as she spotted an old comic book we used to read as kids, another of her adjusting the strap of her bag, and one particularly heartwarming shot of her staring out a window, lost in thought.
By the time we left, I had a small collection of moments captured—snapshots of a day I'd never want to forget. These weren't just pictures; they were pieces of us, little fragments of time spent together, etched onto film.
As we made our way back to the car, P'Fah looked over at me and said, "You're really serious about this, aren't you? Taking pictures, I mean."
"I guess I am," I replied. "But only because I want to remember moments like these. When you're around, everything feels... special."
She didn't say anything right away, but she reached over and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes.
Without overthinking it, I reached out and gently took P'Fah's hand in mine.
"Let's head to our next destination, Khun Fah," I said, teasingly formal to lighten the mood, though my heart was pounding in my chest.
She paused, glancing down at our intertwined fingers. My grip was tentative, unsure of how she'd react, but then she looked up and gave me a warm, reassuring smile. "Alright, Khun Kwan," she replied playfully, her tone matching mine.
Relief washed over me. She didn't pull away. She didn't seem uncomfortable. In fact, her fingers subtly tightened around mine, and the warmth of her hand against mine sent a small thrill through me. We walked like that, hand in hand, toward the car.
The moment felt oddly significant, like a quiet understanding had passed between us. Her touch was soft yet grounding, and every step we took together felt lighter, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted.
The traffic crawled along, the city's usual buzz muted by the steady hum of the car's engine. I glanced over at P'Fah. Her head leaned gently against the window, her eyes closed, her breathing steady. She must have drifted off from the motion, a telltale sign of her motion sickness. It always hit her hard, and I could tell she hadn't been sleeping well lately either.
The GPS announced we were only a few minutes from our destination, but I decided to let her rest a little longer. The sight of her sleeping so peacefully was rare, and I couldn't bring myself to disturb her. She looked serene, almost vulnerable, in the way only sleep could reveal.
My gaze lingered on her lips, soft and slightly parted. Memories of that night came rushing back—the warmth of her kiss, the unspoken desire that had lingered between us since. My heart raced as a reckless thought crossed my mind. What if I kissed her now, just a gentle brush of my lips against hers?
I leaned in slowly, careful not to wake her. The world seemed to pause, the only sound the soft rhythm of her breathing. I was mere inches away when her eyelids fluttered open, her dark eyes meeting mine in a sudden, startling moment of clarity.
Time froze. For a heartbeat, we simply stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken tension. My face burned with embarrassment, and I quickly pulled back, trying to mask my guilt with a nervous laugh.
"We've arrived," I said, my voice shaky, gesturing awkwardly to the park entrance. I braced myself for her reaction, expecting anger or at least discomfort. But to my surprise, she didn't say anything. Instead, she studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable.
Then, with a small smile, she reached out and took my hand. Her fingers laced effortlessly with mine, warm and steady. My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected gesture.
"Thanks for letting me sleep," she said softly, her voice still laced with sleep. "And for always taking care of me."
I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. The fear that she might pull away was replaced by a quiet relief. She didn't seem upset, and in fact, her touch was more reassuring than ever.
The night had settled into a comfortable quiet as we wrapped up our day with a few drinks. The small, tucked-away bar was exactly P'Fah's style—dimly lit, intimate, and far removed from the noisy chaos of the city's nightlife. She wasn't one for loud parties; she preferred quiet moments where the hum of conversation blended softly with the gentle clink of glasses.
P'Fah opted for something strong, her usual choice when she wanted to unwind. I, on the other hand, barely touched my drink, taking only a few polite sips. Alcohol had never appealed to me, and besides, I had to drive. My focus was more on her— how her cheeks flushed lightly from the liquor, her laugh a little looser, her smile a bit wider.
Eventually, it was time to head home. P'Fah swayed slightly as she stood, and I instinctively reached out to steady her. She chuckled softly, leaning into my support as we made our way to the car.
Once inside, I helped her settle into the passenger seat. Her head rested against the headrest, and her eyes fluttered closed, the alcohol lulling her into a comfortable haze. As I reached across to fasten her seatbelt, her hand suddenly shot out, gently grabbing my wrist.
"What were you trying to do earlier," she murmured, her voice low and teasing, "when I was asleep?"
Her words hung in the air, and my breath caught. She opened her eyes just enough to meet mine, her gaze playful but with an edge of curiosity. The corners of her lips curved into a knowing smirk, and I felt a rush of heat flood my face.
"I—I was just…making sure you were comfortable," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. The truth was tangled up in my throat, too heavy and dangerous to spill.
She let out a soft laugh, her grip on my wrist loosening but her eyes never leaving mine. "Comfortable, huh?" she echoed, her tone light but laced with something deeper, something that made my heart race.
Her hand slid down to mine, her fingers intertwining for a brief moment before she let go. "You're such a terrible liar, Kwan," she said with a chuckle, leaning back into her seat. "But it's cute."
I swallowed hard, quickly fastening her seatbelt and retreating to the driver's side. My hands gripped the steering wheel, my mind spinning. Did she know? Could she feel the tension between us, the unspoken emotions I'd tried so hard to bury?
As I started the car, the silence between us felt charged, not uncomfortable but filled with an unspoken understanding. She closed her eyes again, her breathing evening out as the motion of the car lulled her further into a tipsy daze.
But her words lingered, echoing in my mind. You're such a terrible liar, Kwan. I wasn't sure what she knew or how much she had pieced together, but one thing was clear—P'Fah saw through me more than I realized.
The house was steeped in silence, save for the occasional creak of settling wood. The lights were off, and I knew Dad and Mom were deep in their slumber. The night wrapped around us like a cloak, amplifying the sound of every breath, every quiet footstep.
I carried P'Fah carefully through the dim hallway, her weight resting against me, her arm slung lazily around my shoulder. She murmured something incoherent in her sleep, her face peaceful, the sharp lines of her usual composure softened by the haze of alcohol. When we reached her room, I nudged the door open with my foot and gently laid her down on her bed, adjusting her pillow to cradle her head.
She stirred slightly as I moved to take off her sweater, her face flushed from the warmth and the drink. My hands hovered, hesitant, not wanting to disturb her further. Just as I started to lift the hem, her eyes blinked open, hazy but suddenly sharp. Before I could react, her hand shot out, pulling me down towards her.
Her lips pressed against mine, sudden and electrifying. I froze, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. When she pulled back, her eyes locked onto mine, a sly smirk curving her lips.
"This is what you wanted to do, isn't it?" she murmured, her voice low and teasing. The words sent a jolt through me, my mind reeling.
"I—" My voice faltered, but before I could form a coherent thought, she cut me off.
"Coward. Terrible liar." The words were soft but hit me like a challenge, her smirk deepening as she watched my reaction. Her confidence, her ability to see right through me, left me breathless.
The word coward echoed in my mind, stoking a fire in my chest. I wasn't a coward—not when it came to her, not when it came to what I truly felt. Her taunt triggered something inside me, a boldness I hadn't realized I was capable of.
"No," I said, my voice steadier now. I leaned closer, my gaze locking with hers. "But I'll show you what I really want."
Without giving myself time to second-guess, I closed the distance between us and kissed her. This time, it wasn't hesitant or uncertain. It was deliberate, full of everything I'd kept bottled up inside. To my surprise, she didn't pull away. Instead, she responded, her lips moving against mine with an intensity that matched my own.
The world seemed to tilt, the air around us charged with something electric and undeniable. My hands moved on their own, tracing the curve of her jaw, the line of her neck. Her breath hitched as my lips trailed downward, brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. She let out a soft, involuntary moan, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine.
Time felt suspended, the boundaries of what was right or wrong blurred in the haze of the moment. Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, deepening the connection. The weight of unspoken emotions, of years of restrained longing, spilled over, igniting a spark that neither of us could—or wanted to—extinguish.
I pulled back slightly, my forehead resting against hers, both of us breathing heavily. Her eyes searched mine, and for the first time, there was no teasing smirk, no playful taunts. There was only raw, unfiltered emotion, laid bare between us.
"I've never been afraid of my feelings for you, P'Fah," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "And I'm not running from them anymore."
For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of our breathing. Then, she smiled—a real, genuine smile that made my heart ache in the best way possible.
"Good," she murmured, before she fell asleep soundly.