Secret Admirer

26. Start over

Kayu stood by the door, his arms crossed as he looked at Ciro, who seemed utterly unbothered by the tension in the room. 

"Do you really want me to leave?" Ciro asked, his voice calm, though his eyes betrayed a hint of disappointment.

"Khrab," Kayu replied curtly, nodding. His voice was firm, but there was an edge to it—something raw, unfiltered. "Please leave."

Ciro frowned, his brows knitting together in genuine confusion. "Why am I being chased away?"

Kayu's lips twitched, his frustration barely concealed. He shook his head as if the answer were obvious. "Can't you read the room, Khun Ciro?" he said sharply. "If you can't, let me spell it out for you. My fiancé just left me. For his ex-boyfriend. Which means, in case you missed it, I have officially been dumped. The last thing I want to do right now is entertain my boss."

Ciro stood silent for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. Then he said softly, "I am not here as your boss, Kayu."

Kayu laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and cutting. "Then what are you here as? A friend? A concerned colleague? Save it, Khun Ciro. And stop acting like you care. Stop sending me flowers, gifts, and whatever else you think will win me over. This charade of yours—it ends here."

Ciro's expression shifted, hurt flashing across his face. "Charade?" he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You think I am acting?"

Kayu crossed his arms tighter, a defensive gesture. "I don't care what you think you are doing," he snapped. "Whether you are pretending or not, it is exhausting. And it needs to stop. Now that June and Buri are back together, you can drop the whole act of pursuing me Khrab."

"Kayu—" Ciro began, but Kayu held up a hand, cutting him off.

"Don't," Kayu said sharply. He reached for his hand and pulled off the ring that Ciro had given him—a beautiful, understated piece that had once felt special but now felt like a weight around his finger. He held it out, his hand trembling slightly. "Take this back."

Ciro stared at the ring, his lips parting as though he wanted to argue, to plead, but Kayu wasn't done.

"I don't know what your intentions were when you gave me this," Kayu continued, his voice cracking just slightly. "But even if this is some ring your ex-girlfriend didn't want, I am not a dump yard for things no one else wanted." His words were harsh, but they were his truth—raw, unvarnished, and aching.

Ciro took a step forward, his hand reaching out. "Kayu, that's not—"

"Just go," Kayu interrupted, his voice breaking. He pushed the ring into Ciro's hand and took a step back toward the door. "I have had enough for one night."

Ciro hesitated, his eyes searching Kayu's face for any sign of softness, any opening to say what he truly felt. But there was nothing. Just a wall of resolve that even he couldn't break. Finally, Ciro nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly as he turned and walked out the door.

Kayu shut the door firmly behind him, leaning against it as he exhaled shakily. 

The silence of the room pressed down on him, amplifying the echo of his own racing thoughts. He stayed there for a few minutes, his head tilted back against the wood, his breathing uneven.

When he finally moved, it was with heavy, reluctant steps. He walked to the closet and pulled out a cardboard box—one that June had given him months ago. 

The box was worn, its edges fraying slightly, but it contained memories that didn't belong to him: June and Buri's old photographs, trinkets, and love notes that told a story of a time long before Kayu had entered the picture.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Kayu opened the box and looked at its contents. A soft, self-deprecating laugh escaped him. "At least they got their happy ending," he muttered, shaking his head.

He reached for a small velvet box he had tucked away inside the larger box earlier that evening. Inside it was the engagement ring June had given him—a symbol of a future that had now crumbled. 

He stared at it for a long moment before placing it back inside the cardboard box with the rest of June and Buri's things. Then he closed the lid and pushed the box back into the closet, out of sight but never fully out of mind.

Kayu climbed into bed, grabbing his worn-out teddy bear, Blue, and hugging it tightly to his chest. The plush fur was comforting, a relic from his childhood that had seen him through many lonely nights. 

He stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity, his mind a whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, and an aching emptiness that refused to be ignored.

Eventually, his eyes drifted to his phone on the bedside table. He reached for it hesitantly, unlocking it and opening the dating app he had used before meeting June. His thumb hovered over the "sign in" button, the memories of his and June's first conversation on the app flooding back. He had deleted his account after they got engaged, thinking he'd never need it again.

"Desperate much?" he muttered to himself, his lips twisting into a wry smile. But the weight of the night was too heavy, and the silence too suffocating. 

He shrugged. "No one is going to know or care," he reasoned. "I am resigning in two months. None of these people will matter then."

Making up his mind, he created a new, anonymous account under the username "Tweety," after his favorite Looney Tunes character. He used a picture of Tweety Bird as his profile picture, filled in the basic details, and set the account live.

The app greeted him with a cheery notification: "Welcome , Tweety!" Kayu sighed, tossing the phone onto the bed beside him. He laid back, staring at the ceiling once more.

His phone buzzed, and he glanced over, surprised to see a notification from the app. Curious, he picked it up and read the message: "We have found someone with a perfect 10/10 compatibility with your profile!"

His eyes narrowed slightly as he opened the message. The other user had already sent a friend request. The username was simple but oddly endearing: "Honeybear." 

Kayu chuckled to himself. "Anonymous, huh?" he murmured. But what did it matter? He accepted the request without a second thought, his lips quirking into a faint smile.

For the first time that night, the ache in his chest eased just slightly. Maybe this was how he would move forward. Maybe this was how he should start over.