The first light had barely touched the horizon when I stirred awake. Sleep had been shallow, restless—my heart too full from the night before. The ache of longing had not left me; it pressed against my ribs, urging me forward, as though I would lose him again if I delayed even a second.
Granny was already awake, seated on the verandah with her prayer beads slipping slowly through her fingers. The faint smell of incense clung to the air.
"You're up early, my child," she said without looking at me, but a small smile played on her lips.
"I…" my voice faltered, but the truth was simple, "I want to go to the temple."
Her beads paused mid-count. Finally, she turned, eyes narrowing just slightly—a teasing smile. "So eager now," she murmured, then gently added, "Sometimes when our heart knows someone is waiting, even night becomes restless." With a chuckle, she looked at me with her warm gaze.
Heat rose to my cheeks. I lowered my gaze, fingers tightening around the folds of my shirt. "Maybe."
Her smile widened, almost lost beneath the rustle of the morning breeze. Her hands reached out—warm and wrinkled—pressing briefly against mine. "Go then… but remember… temples are not only for the prayers of the lips, Kael. They are also for the prayers of the heart. Be honest with yours."
Her words lingered long after I left.
The path to the temple was quiet, veiled in pale mist. My sandals clicked softly against the stones, Sorren padding happily at my side. Each step beat like a drum of anticipation.
It was excitement.
Would he be there?
Would he be excited to see me?
The temple gates rose before me, and there he was—sitting on the worn stone steps as though carved from the dawn itself. His back straight, his hands folded loosely over his knees. He was watching the horizon, but the moment I entered, his eyes moved—slow, deliberate—and found mine. A small smile formed on his lips.
I froze. My heartbeat quickened at that small reaction.
Sorren darted forward, tail wagging furiously, and Anurak bent to greet him with gentle fingers behind his ears. But even then—even with his gaze lowered—I felt the pull of him, the invisible thread that had followed me across lifetimes.
"You are early," he said, smiling when I reached him.
"I couldn't stay away," I admitted. My voice shook, but I didn't care.
His lips curved more—it felt like a door creaking open. He shifted, patting the step beside him. "Sit."
I sat. The stone was cool beneath me. The silence stretched, but it was not empty. It was heavy with things unsaid, with years—lives—waiting to be spoken.
Finally, he broke it. "Tell me about them."
"About who?"
"Your family." His tone was gentle, but there was an undercurrent—something deeper. As if he wanted to carve me into memory, hold every piece of me he had missed.
I smiled and exhaled slowly. "My Pa… he's stern outside, but warm inside. He works harder than anyone I've ever known. He lives for his family. He doesn't always say the words, but I've seen them in his eyes. My Mama… is softer. She has this way of holding things together, even when everything feels like it's falling apart." My throat tightened. "She is like a warm cup of coffee in cold weather." I smiled. "Then… my younger brother, Kian… he is wild, always asking questions no one can answer. And my little sister, Kaew… like her name itself, she is a gem. Quiet, thoughtful. She notices everything, even the things I try to hide. Even if she is young, she is like Mama."
Anurak listened without interruption. Not just with his ears, but with his whole being—his stillness was devotion, the way monks listen to chants.
"You sound," he said finally, voice low, "like you are surrounded by a lot of people who love you deeply."
I swallowed hard. "I do. But all these years, there was still… something missing." My eyes slid to his, steady, unwavering. "You," I said slowly. "You were the missing piece."
The words shattered something between us. His breath faltered. His hands twitched on his knees as though resisting a pull.
"And you? What about your family?" I asked softly, afraid but needing to know.
He was quiet for a long moment.
"My mom… she is my only family." His voice was steady, but I felt the weight in it—the edges of the pain he didn't show. "She gave me everything she could. That was enough."
But it was not enough. I could hear it in the silence after, in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his eyes turned away for the first time since I arrived.
I leaned closer, until my shoulder brushed against his.
"Enough for survival," I whispered. "But not for your heart."
His breath trembled, but he said nothing.
I let my head rest gently against his shoulder. For a moment he went still… but then slowly, his arms wrapped around me.
The world hushed around us. No cicadas, no bells, no footsteps. Only the quiet thrum of our hearts.
"I don't need to know everyone," I said softly, closing my eyes. "All I need is this… to be here… with you."
His cheek brushed against my hair—the smallest of touches, but it was enough to make me smile.
I shifted slightly, resting my head more firmly on his shoulder, feeling the warmth that seemed to seep through the layers of our past and his present. Sorren yawned at our feet, stretching lazily, sensing the weight of our closeness.
Anurak's other hand moved, almost brushing against mine, and I turned my fingers to meet his, letting them intertwine in the gentlest clasp.
"Kael," he said softly, voice threaded with something I couldn't name—relief, restraint, longing. "Tell me more… about your days… your life."
I lifted my head slightly, looking at him through the strands of sunlight that fell across his face. His eyes held the shadow of years gone, the weight of a soul that had suffered silently—yet in this life, they were mine to meet, to search, to hold.
"My days are simple," I started, trying to keep the nervous excitement calm. "I wake up early, sometimes too early. Two years before Sorren came into my life and he has been my only companion since then. I spend my time with him, do my assignments, most of the time I read—trying not to get lost in the books I should be reading—and… I think a lot about things I can't explain." My voice faltered, but I pressed on. "I live alone in Bangkok, which is close to my university. I think about my family… I go home every weekend. I have no friends. Sometimes I prefer my own company and sometimes I think about moments I wish could be different. And lately… I've been thinking about you more than I ever imagined possible."
"Kael… I also think a lot about you… more than I ever showed," he said at last. "But now this feels like a dream. You being here, so near, in my arms… if this is a dream, I wish I never wake up," he said, looking at me.
"Phi, even if it's a dream or a reality… I will be with you. Always," I said it like a promise.
The world around us no longer mattered—because now we were together, in each other's arms.