I barely managed a few steps when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed behind me—fast, frantic, closing in.

Before I could turn, a pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind, crushing me into a tight embrace that left no room to breathe, no room for personal space.

I froze.

His scent immediately invading my peace.

“North…” His voice was rough, trembling. “Phi is sorry. Really, really sorry.” His breath ghosted against my ear, uneven, as if his lungs had forgotten how to function. And then I felt it—his body was shaking.

“I know…” He swallowed hard, words cracking. “I know whatever I say won’t make up for how you felt. You can—” His voice faltered, then steadied with desperate resolve. “You can hit Phi if you want.”

Before I could even react, he turned me around, his grip urgent.

And then—he sank to his knees.

The world tilted.

I stared at him in disbelief, my breath snagging in my throat.

His hands closed around mine, trembling like fragile glass. “Hit me,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Hit me as much as you like, but please…” He looked up at me, his expression raw, stripped of pride, of everything I thought he was. “Please don’t ignore me.”

The sight tore something open in me. My chest ached, my ribs pressing inward as if trying to contain the storm building inside.

“Teerak… please.” His voice broke on the word, soft and desperate, before he bent his head and pressed his lips to the back of my hand. The kiss was light, almost reverent, but it seared through me, leaving a trail of heat where his lips touched.

My heart trembled violently, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

He looked up at me again—eyes wild, unguarded, bleeding guilt, panic, fear, and something that felt like hope clawing to survive.

But I stayed silent. My tears spilled freely now, sliding down my cheeks in helpless streams.

“Phi will never…” His words tumbled out in a rush, frantic, like he was afraid if he paused, I’d disappear. “Phi will never prioritize anything above you ever again. I promise.” His grip tightened on my hands until his knuckles turned white. “Please, baby. Please.”

I stared at him—this man I had spent months trying to understand—while my heart split in two.

Slowly, gently, I pried my hands from his grip.

His eyes widened in panic, breath stuttering as if the world was collapsing beneath him.

“You—” I tried to speak, but my voice cracked, splintering under the weight of everything I’d bottled up. I inhaled sharply, forcing the sob back down, and sniffled hard before trying again.

“I never know what you’re thinking,” I whispered, my voice trembling like brittle glass. “I never know what’s going on inside your head. And I’m scared, Phi. Scared of not being enough for you.”

His face twisted, as though my words were blades digging into him, but he stayed silent.

“I try to be patient,” I continued, my throat raw. “But you never seem to realize my wishes until I’m breaking—until I stop speaking. It took my silence for you to even—” The words died on my tongue. My chest heaved as I wiped at my wet cheeks with shaky fingers.

For a long moment, only the distant hum of cicadas and my ragged breathing filled the silence.

Finally, I looked at him, forcing my voice to steady even as it cracked at the edges.

“I want space, Phi.”

His body went still, frozen like a statue carved out of grief.

“Let’s talk later,” I whispered—almost to myself—and then I turned away, before the pieces of me shattered beyond repair.

Behind me, I heard nothing. Not a word. Not a step. Just silence—heavy, suffocating silence that wrapped around me like chains as I walked away.

✿✿✿

(The Next Day)

Sunlight slipped through the half-drawn curtains, casting pale stripes across my bed. I blinked slowly, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me like a soaked blanket. My limbs felt heavy, my head thick with the remnants of last night—his voice, his face on the pavement, the way he whispered Teerak like a prayer.

I dragged a hand over my face, groaning softly. My throat was dry, and my eyes still burned, though the tears had long dried. Sleep had been shallow, fractured by flashes of Johan’s voice begging, his hands trembling around mine, the image of him on his knees looping endlessly like a cruel film reel.

And yet…

God, I missed him.

I hated myself for it. For the way my chest ached like an open wound, for the way my fingers twitched like they wanted to reach for my phone and type Phi, where are you?—even though I was the one who asked for space.

Space. Right.

I sat up slowly, scanning the tiny dorm room. My desk was a mess of scattered notes and crumpled tissues, silent witnesses to last night’s collapse. My stomach growled then, low and insistent, pulling me back to reality.

Food. Maybe if I ate, the hollow ache in my chest would quiet down a little.

I shuffled to the mini-fridge and yanked the door open, only to be greeted by… emptiness. Well, not entirely empty—there was half a bottle of water and a lone ketchup packet that looked older than some of my textbooks.

“Perfect,” I muttered, voice hoarse.

With a sigh, I grabbed my wallet from the desk. Going out for groceries wasn’t ideal, not when I felt like a ghost haunting my own skin—but I needed air. Maybe a walk would help me forget the weight pressing down on my ribs.

I padded to the door, dragging on a hoodie over my wrinkled T-shirt, running a hand through my mess of hair. My fingers hovered over the doorknob for a moment, hesitating. What if he was outside? What if Johan…

No. He wouldn’t. Right?

I twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

And my breath stopped.

He was there.

Sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall like he’d lost a fight with time. His head was tilted slightly to one side, lashes fanning over tired skin. The usual sharp lines of his face had softened in sleep, but the exhaustion was unmistakable—dark smudges under his eyes, jaw slack like he hadn’t rested in days.

And in his hand, cradled like something fragile, was a bouquet of white lilies and tiny forget-me-nots.

My heart clenched so hard it almost hurt.

For a long moment, I just stood there, my throat tightening, my pulse echoing in my ears. Every part of me screamed to drop to the floor, to shake him awake, to bury my face in his shoulder and say I’m sorry, Phi. Please don’t look at anyone else the way you look at me.

But I didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“Phi…” The word slipped from my lips, soft as a confession.

His lashes fluttered, slow and heavy, before his eyes opened—stormy brown, glassy with fatigue. When they landed on me, something in them sparked to life, raw and unfiltered.

He moved slowly, as if afraid that any sudden gesture might scare me away. Rising from the floor, he kept his gaze locked on me, his fingers clutching the bouquet so tightly I thought the stems might snap.

“Baby…” His voice came out rough, cracked at the edges. He swallowed, and for a moment, I saw his mask slip entirely—no calm, no control. Just Johan, raw and wrecked.

My heart broke all over again.

“Why…” My voice shook as the words stumbled out. “Why would you do this?”

He stared at me, silent for a breath, before whispering, “Because I can’t lose you.” His jaw tightened, and his knuckles whitened around the flowers. “Not now. Not ever.”

Something inside me shattered at that—every defense I had, every wall I built to keep myself from drowning in him.

Before I knew it, my legs were moving. One step. Two. And then I was right in front of him, so close I could feel the tremor in his breath.

The bouquet slipped from his fingers, landing soundlessly on the floor.

And then—his arms were around me.

It wasn’t just a hug. It was an anchor, a desperate clutch like a man holding on to the edge of a cliff. His body molded to mine, unyielding, trembling, as if letting go would mean the end of everything. His face buried in the curve of my neck, his breath ragged against my skin.

I froze for a fraction of a second—then melted.

My hands clutched his shirt, fingers fisting in the fabric as the sob I’d been choking down since last night tore free. The smell of him—soap, leather, the faint trace of fuel—flooded my senses, grounding me and unraveling me all at once.

“Phi…” My voice cracked like thin glass. “You meany…”

He pulled me tighter, impossibly tighter, as if my words only made him cling harder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over, each word breaking against my skin. “I’m so damn sorry, Teerak. I’ll spend my whole life making this right. Just… don’t leave me.”

And that was it. That was the moment I stopped fighting the truth—that I didn’t want space. I didn’t want distance. I wanted him, in all his broken, stubborn, beautiful mess.

My arms wrapped around his neck, holding on just as fiercely. “I’m not leaving, Phi,” I whispered into his hair, voice trembling. “Just… don’t make me feel invisible again.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his forehead pressed to mine, breath uneven, eyes blazing with something so raw it made my heart stutter.

“Never,” he said, voice like a vow. “Never again.”

And then, wordlessly, he hugged me again—tighter this time, like his life depended on it while I just sobbed into his shirt.