One Shot Collection #2

50 - The River of Time

In the heart of Thailand, during the year 1944, the Kingdom's provinces were steeped in tradition, but times were changing. The world outside was on the brink of war, yet in the peaceful corners of the Kingdom, the rhythm of life remained tied to ancient customs and ceremonies. It was in one such province, nestled between emerald hills and winding rivers, that a story of forbidden love began to unfold.

Princess Siriporn of Chiang Mai was a symbol of grace and strength. At 20 years old, she had already become the epitome of royal elegance, with a reputation for kindness and intelligence that stretched far beyond her family's palace walls. Her beauty was undeniable, but it was her spirit—sharp and unyielding—that garnered her the deepest respect. The daughter of a revered king, Siriporn was destined to marry a noble of the highest rank, solidifying the Kingdom's royal alliances. But, despite the customs that tethered her, she often longed for a life beyond her palace's golden gates.

One fateful evening, during the annual Songkran festival, Siriporn snuck away from the palace, disguised in the simplicity of a cotton dress and a wide-brimmed hat. She was determined to experience the lively celebrations of the common folk, to feel the cool splash of water and laughter on the streets. She walked along the riverbank, where the sweet smell of jasmine filled the air, and the sounds of traditional Thai music swirled like a gentle breeze.

As she walked, her eyes met a young man's. He was sitting on the steps of a temple, his fingers expertly weaving garlands of marigold flowers. His name was Kittipong—a local artisan whose skill in making intricate decorations had earned him the admiration of the villagers. His hands, calloused from years of hard work, moved with precision as he crafted each delicate blossom into a perfect string of color.

Siriporn's gaze lingered, captivated not just by his talent, but by his simplicity. Kittipong was no nobleman, no man of stature. He was a commoner, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of quiet strength, a kind of wisdom that went beyond the boundaries of wealth and birthright.

Her heart raced as she found herself walking toward him, compelled by an unspoken pull. When she reached him, she smiled shyly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Your work is beautiful," she said softly, her voice betraying a gentle warmth.

Kittipong looked up, startled, his eyes widening when he realized who stood before him. He immediately lowered his head, a deep flush creeping over his cheeks. "Your Highness," he stammered, his voice tinged with awe and fear. "I did not know the princess had come to see such simple work."

Siriporn laughed, the sound like a delicate bell ringing in the silence. "I am not just a princess today, Kittipong. I am a woman who wants to enjoy the beauty of life, even the simple things."

There was a long silence as Kittipong hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He was not accustomed to speaking to royalty, and yet, in her presence, he felt an undeniable pull to be his truest self.

"I suppose beauty can be found in many forms," he said quietly. "In flowers, in the laughter of children, in the fleeting moments of the day."

Siriporn's smile widened. "And in the company of a good soul," she added, her voice softening.

For the next several days, Siriporn returned to the village, each time finding an excuse to speak with Kittipong. They spoke of simple things—of nature, of the changing seasons, of the joys and pains of living in a world so torn by conflict and tradition. Kittipong found in her a kindred spirit, someone who, despite her royal blood, longed for the same honest and unadorned moments he cherished. Siriporn, in turn, found in him a world she had never known—a world where love was not bound by the chains of power or status, but was free to grow as naturally as the flowers he wove.