Episode 53

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Dunk and Phuwin walked into the cafe, their usual morning chatter replaced by a comfortable silence. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air, a familiar comfort.

But as they entered, their eyes widened in shock.

The usually pristine counter lay in pieces, shards of glass glittering on the floor. A table, overturned and mangled, mirrored the scene of destruction.

Their aunt, Roma, sat huddled in a corner, tears streaming down her face. A tall figure stood beside her, his arm draped around her shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

Confused and alarmed, Dunk and Phuwin rushed towards her. Laila, wiping away her tears with trembling hands, forced a smile. "Oh, boys," she said, her voice shaky. "Just a little incident. Thankfully, this kind man here helped me deal with it."

Phuwin squinted at the man, his brow furrowing in recognition. A gasp escaped his lips. "Sir, you... you're..." He stammered, struggling to place the face.

The man turned, his eyes widening in surprise. It was none other than Pond's father, Mark. "Phuwin?" he exclaimed, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Is that really you?"

Laila, ever the smooth operator, stepped in. "Dunk, Phuwin, this is Mark," she introduced, gesturing towards the man. "He's an old friend of your parents."

Dunk and Phuwin exchanged bewildered glances. A friend of their parents? The revelation sent a jolt of curiosity coursing through them.

Mark offered a warm smile, a glimmer of sadness lingering in his eyes. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you both," he said, his voice tinged with a subtle tremor.

They settled down at a table untouched by the chaos. Laila, visibly shaken, excused herself to grab some water for everyone.

Mark turned to Dunk and Phuwin, his gaze filled with a mix of joy and sorrow. "Your parents," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "were some of the most amazing people I've ever known."

He launched into a tale of their childhood, painting a picture of a life filled with laughter, mischief, and unwavering friendship. He spoke of growing up in an orphanage together, the four of them inseparable, facing life's challenges as a united front. He recounted funny anecdotes about Rayon's sweet tooth and Emily's gentle spirit, bringing a bittersweet smile to Laila's face as she re-entered the room.

Dunk and Phuwin listened intently, their hearts swelling with a newfound connection to their parents. These were stories they had never heard, glimpses into a life tragically cut short.

Mark reached into his pocket, pulling out a worn leather wallet. He carefully extracted a few faded photographs, each one a precious window into the past. There were pictures of four young friends, carefree and joyful, their faces radiating pure happiness. Another captured a younger Rayon, his cheeks bulging with a stolen candy bar, while Emily chastised him playfully.

Tears welled up in Laila's eyes as she looked at the pictures. Memories flooded back, a bittersweet mix of joy and loss.

While Dunk and Phuwin were engrossed in the photos, Mark leaned closer to Laila, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Laila," he said, his expression grave, "I need to talk to you. It's urgent."

Laila nodded, a flicker of worry crossing her features. Mark's words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken secrets.

He continued, his voice barely a whisper. "I know what happened in Chiang Mai. The fire at your bakery... it wasn't an accident."

Laila's eyes widened in shock. "What are you saying?" she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mark's gaze hardened with resolve. "It was the same people who took Emily and Rayon from us all those years ago," he revealed, his voice laced with a chilling certainty. "And I believe they're after you and the boys too."

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