Toey sat watching the lazy flow of water, his phone gripped tightly in his hand. He wanted to call Sarayoot but couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd taken emergency leave, claiming he needed to visit his father who was down with the flu. Here by the canal, with the gentle breeze and tourists waving from passing boats, he found some measure of peace. The melancholy young secretary had decided to stay in Amphawa with his family for a couple of days before returning to Bangkok to face whatever complications awaited him. For now, he just wanted to sit quietly and sort through his thoughts. But his solitude didn't last long when a voice called from behind.
"A-Toey, dear! Come eat, cutie son!"
"Mom, I told you not to call me that," Toey shouted back. "Just use my name. Calling me like that annoys me."
"Or should I use your real name instead?" His mother grinned, walking closer.
"Don't you dare," Toey turned to glare at her.
"What's wrong with you? You come home for a visit and just sit here alone. I've been watching you sit in silence forever. Don't go jumping in the canal now—the tourists won't come see the fireflies in our lamphu tree anymore."
"Mom..." Toey pulled a face. "I'm heartbroken, lonely, depressed, and you're still making jokes."
"Love troubles can be put on hold for now," his mother said, settling down beside him and wrapping an arm around her middle son's shoulders.
"Put on hold and someone else will snatch him away. No way. I really like this person. Even though I've been so careful, I still got blindsided." The young secretary's voice carried a note of despair.
"Just like?"
"Love. I love him," Toey's voice turned firm and resolute. "Love at first sight."
"Then bring him home for me to meet. Let the family help you decide."
"Can't do that. As if I could bring him here—he'd run away faster than you could blink. What kind of family are we anyway?" Toey shook his head rapidly.
"Exactly—what kind of son am I raising?"
"Is that a compliment or an insult, Mom?" Toey made a pouty face. "But I still don't know how this will end. He seems so hesitant about everything. And there's someone trying to match him up with someone else, saying they're perfect together. But he seems to have feelings for the matchmaker instead. Sigh Who could be more perfect for Khun Yoot than me? Someone quiet and reserved like him needs color in his life, right Mom? I'd be his beautiful rainbow. Imagine if he ended up with another quiet person—they'd just sit there staring at each other like fighting fish. Boring as hell."
Toey rambled on, but in his head, he kept seeing images of Sarayoot playfully teasing Wittawin in the office. He couldn't help but feel envious.
That's not boring at all. No matter how you look at it, it's not boring.
Sarayoot doesn't love Wittawin. It's just an uncle teasing his nephew. Just close friends fooling around.
"Sometimes when we're caught up in the whirlwind, we can't see clearly, son," his mother said gently. "Having an outsider's perspective isn't such a bad thing."
"An outsider like Wittawin? He doesn't even know his own heart, and yet he's trying to matchmake others." Toey tried to sound stern, not realizing his mother could hear the bitterness in his tone.
Wittawin wants his uncle to settle down with a friend because he wants to comfort Pirayu, who's heartbroken over Teeradon. Either way, Wittawin would never get involved with his own uncle. How could he? It goes against all propriety. Sarayoot must realize this too. And when Wittawin tries to push Sarayoot toward Pirayu, it probably won't work because Pirayu can't forget Teeradon.
So why is he trying so hard to get Teeradon together with Pirayu? Because no matter what, his boss won't give in. There's no way it'll succeed, not even slightly.
Ugh, the more I think about it, the more confused I get. The more my head hurts.
"What about an outsider like me?" his mother said with a smile, "or your father, or your siblings?"
"Oh no, not P'Tung! After seeing what happened when he met Khun Don, I don't even want to think about it." Toey wailed dramatically.
"Tung has good judgment," his mother smiled when talking about her eldest son, who was as different from her middle child as night and day.
"Terrible judgment. Completely clueless. No insight whatsoever." Toey grimaced, remembering his older brother and the words that had made him scream and shout throughout the house when Teeradon had dropped by to visit their father, who'd fallen and broken his leg earlier that year. Teeradon was about to get in his car when he turned back and stood at the front steps, asking what was wrong after hearing all the commotion.
P'Tung said something crazy. That kind of thing could never happen. It never even crossed my brilliant mind, not even for a second. I don't want to go to hell while I'm still alive.
What P'Tung said was "He's horny all the time. I can see it in his eyes. He suits you. You too are perfect. You can use my studio at the back of the house to do it if you want him to be your husband."
"Sigh Mom, it's torture. I'm completely confused," the young secretary sighed, leaning his head against his mother's shoulder while lifting his phone to stare at it. "I want to call him, but somehow I don't dare."
"Take a step back. Get a clearer picture. Adjust your focus. Don't get trapped in tunnel vision. There are multiple paths forward. What we think is right now might actually be an optical illusion, not the most suitable choice." His mother advised.
"Whose words are you quoting now?" Toey looked surprised to hear his mother speak this way.
"Words from a philosopher I know well."
"Don't tell me it's that philosopher Tung the Blockhead." Toey couldn't help but smile.
"Has your brother ever thought, said, or done anything wrong, son?" The mother of the eloquent secretary defended her eldest.
"I think you secretly adopted P'Tung from somewhere else. Maybe from the Sai Thong house, or from Siriraj Hospital. Maybe he's actually the son of some philosophy professor from Thammasat University." Toey mumbled, then laughed softly along with his mother. The sound of a longtail boat passing slowly, the gentle breeze—it all seemed to help soothe the burning turmoil in the heart of the dejected young secretary.
***
Wittawin drove slowly out of the company, and before long noticed someone following him. After a few glances in his rearview mirror, he recognized Teeradon and sped up to escape. But his pursuer followed relentlessly. Eventually, Wittawin couldn't stand it anymore and pulled into a gas station, disappearing into the restroom for a long time. When he emerged, he saw Teeradon sitting casually on his red Ducati, waiting patiently. Wittawin walked to the coffee shop. Teeradon didn't follow but parked his bike nearby, went into the convenience store, then came out to stand drinking canned coffee in front of the shop, occasionally glancing at Wittawin sitting with his coffee.
The young engineer couldn't stand Teeradon's psychological warfare any longer and came out to confront him.
"What do you want?" Wittawin snapped. "Aren't you bored following me around like this? Why don't you go take care of your distillery business?"
"Where are you going?" Teeradon ignored Wittawin's questions.
"I'm going home to sleep. You can stop following me now," Wittawin replied curtly.
"Going home? By driving around in circles all over the city like this?" Teeradon raised an eyebrow, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Well, if you weren't following me, I'd already be home by now."
"And if you weren't running away, you'd be home too. I'm pursuing you, courting you. Why do you keep running? Just agree to be my boyfriend already." Teeradon persisted stubbornly.
"Are you insane, Khun Teeradon? Everything we've talked about—you haven't listened to or accepted any of it, have you?" Wittawin exploded.
"I listen to my heart. What about you, Wittawin? What do you listen to? Do you listen to your own heart?" Teeradon leaned closer, his eyes locking with Wittawin's.
"Don't talk to me like that. It's manipulative. I've already made my position clear..." Wittawin faltered, suddenly uncertain whether he should continue. Pirayu's face flashed through his mind.
He could hear his heart's voice, but he didn't want to listen to it. Because it said things that conflicted sharply with his rational mind.
If he followed his heart, the results would be both good and bad. But one thing was certain—it would hurt many people. And it seemed the negative consequences would outweigh the positive ones.
"You think you're handsome, charismatic, and sexy, that everyone must fall in love with you. Especially your wealth, which serves as an extra draw. But to me, you're just another man—one I can look at once and never want to look at again." Wittawin spoke slowly and clearly, then held his breath, turning his face away to the side. He lifted his coffee cup to drink before delivering his final blow to Teeradon: "Get out of my life."
"Wittawin," Teeradon groaned, feeling as if he'd been struck by a hammer. His ears rang; he could barely hear anything around him. As soon as Wittawin finished speaking, he hurried to his car, put on his helmet, and drove away quickly, leaving Teeradon standing there stunned and alone before he walked to his expensive motorcycle like a man drained of all strength.
***