BLINDED BY LOVE

FORBIDDEN LOVE

Sailub took the bus home that day, leaving his motorcycle parked in front of the shop, untouched.

He sat in the last row.

It was Pon’s favorite spot.

The night was dark.

When he came out of the restaurant, it was already ten o’clock at night, but the streets were still bustling, lanterns hanging from tall evergreen trees, many shops plastered with New Year’s posters.

He reached up and touched the scarf around his neck, a birthday gift from Pon.

That day was also on the bus.

Pon looked at him with misty eyes, the scent of peach wine lingering in the air with every breath.

His gaze fell on Pon’s lips, cheeks, and eyelashes, his breath slowing for a moment, but quickly pretending to be calm and composed.

Thinking back, it was from that day on that he harbored unspeakable feelings for Pon.

But he had always been repressed and reserved, accustomed to hiding his emotions, and no one could perceive them.

Sailub’s eyes were half-closed as he leaned against the seat, the bus swaying slightly, giving rise to waves of exhaustion.

An hour later, the bus finally stopped at the entrance of the small community where he lived.

He went upstairs as usual, opened the door, but somehow dropped the keys on the floor.

He stared at the keychain for a while, with a little doll hanging on it with closed eyes, which Pon had put there, made of clay.

He was usually meticulous with things and rarely damaged objects.

But now, with just one slip, the little doll’s arm was broken.

Sailub slowly crouched down and picked up the doll.

The doll was tiny, not even the size of half a palm, now without an arm, its closed eyes looking a bit aggrieved.

Sailub gently tightened his palm, the broken part slightly sharp, pricking his palm.

He opened the door again, went inside, the living room was dark, quiet and oppressive.
He didn’t turn on the lights.

He didn’t even step into the room.

He just sat there at the doorway. It was an overcast day, even the starlight was sparse, the air was damp and cold, like layers of waves, engulfing people in the tide.

He held the broken doll, his head resting on his arm, like a cold sculpture, not moving for a long time.

For the next few days, Sailub didn’t receive any news from Pon.

Pon’s clothes, belongings, were still in the small bedroom next door, his toothbrush, daily necessities, piled up in Sailub’s room.

But he never came back.

Pon seemed to have disappeared like a drop of water into the ocean.

Not to mention Sailub, even Sammy didn’t know the address of the Aiemkumchai family.

She had tried to contact Way and Davika, but only got through to their secretary, who gently advised her not to call again.

“Miss Sammy, if Mr. Way wants to contact you, he will naturally let me communicate with you in advance, but both he and Mr. Thanapon are quite busy, and it’s not clear when they’ll have time,” the secretary was polite, “If you don’t have anything urgent, I’ll hang up now.”