Accidentally Married

43. Argument

Aum wove through the crowd, his eyes scanning the sea of party guests as he searched for one person—Sailom.

He had been given a simple task: find Sailom for the cake-cutting ceremony. Sainam had personally asked him to do it, her expression far too pleased when she assigned him the mission. 

Aum wasn't clueless; he knew exactly what she was trying to do. Ever since he had arrived as Sailom's guest tonight, Sainam had been grinning like she was on the verge of bursting into song. She was trying to push him toward Sailom, nudging at something that wasn't even there.

Not that he minded much. He had dealt with matchmaking attempts before, and he had no plans of dating anyone right now. It wasn't hard to ignore.

What was hard to ignore, however, was the fact that Sailom was gone.

Aum frowned as he dialed Sailom's number again. The call rang and rang, but no one picked up. That was unusual. No matter where he was, no matter what time it was, Sailom always picked up Aum's calls.

Something wasn't right.

A faint sense of unease settled in Aum's chest as he quickened his pace. He checked around the bar, near the lounge, even by the pool—nothing. Then, just as he was about to call again, a noise caught his attention.

A loud voice, agitated and sharp, cut through the air from the far corner of the garden.

Aum turned his head in the direction of the commotion and started walking toward it. As he got closer, the voices became clearer, and he could make out Sailom's familiar tone—calm but laced with irritation.

Then, another voice—unfamiliar and petulant—spoke.

"You should forget about the flower guy."

Aum halted mid-step.

He wasn't stupid. It didn't take much to realize that flower guy referred to him.

His eyes locked onto the two figures standing beneath the soft glow of the garden lights.

Sailom stood facing another man, a stranger dressed head to toe in expensive, high-end brands. Yet, despite the clear attempt at opulence, Aum could tell immediately—the guy had no idea how to style himself properly. His outfit screamed nouveau riche—money without taste.

Sailom, on the other hand, looked unimpressed. His posture was relaxed, but there was a sharpness in his gaze as he replied, "His name isn't flower guy—it's Aum. And if that's too difficult for you to say, you can call him by his full name, Prakan."

The other guy—Arc, as Sailom had addressed him—rolled his eyes. "I don't care what his name is. The only thing I care about is you."

Aum remained where he was, silently observing.

Arc took a step closer to Sailom, his voice rising with frustration. "Lom, I Have always been the one by your side. I have always been the one who actually cares about you. But you—you are wasting your time on that pretty-faced vixen. He is nothing but a fleeting distraction."

Aum let out a quiet breath through his nose. He wasn't particularly offended by Arc's words; he had been called worse. What intrigued him more was how Sailom would respond.

And, oh, did Sailom respond.

His jaw tightened as he shot Arc a withering look. "Aum has never tried to seduce me or take advantage of me. I am the one who fell for him at first sight. I am the one who has been trying to win him over, even though he has already rejected me so many times."

Aum blinked.

He had always known Sailom liked him. That much was obvious. But hearing it said so bluntly, in the middle of an argument, felt strangely different.

Arc's expression twisted in fury. "How can you look me in the eye and say that?!" He threw his hands up, frustration spilling over. "A guy like him—he is never going to settle down! You think you are special? I bet he has got a dozen guys on the side already!"

Sailom's hands curled into fists. "Watch your mouth, Arc! Don't expect me to be civil to you today!"

But Arc wasn't finished. His voice turned venomous as he continued, "He is just using you, Lom. Open your damn eyes."

Aum sighed. This was getting out of hand.

Sailom looked like he was a second away from throwing a punch, and Aum knew that if things escalated into a physical fight, it would be disastrous. 

Sailom was one of the hosts of this party. Arc was a guest. No matter how wrong Arc was, it would still look bad if Sailom threw the first punch.

More than that, Aum could tell what Arc was doing. He was provoking Sailom on purpose—trying to stir up drama. Aum wasn't about to let that happen.

So, he stepped in.

"Sailom," Aum called out, his voice light and affectionate, something he had never done before. "P'Lom."

Sailom froze.

Slowly, he turned to look at Aum, his expression flickering between surprise and disbelief. Aum had never called him that before.

Aum smiled at him, as if the past few minutes hadn't happened at all. "I have been looking for you everywhere. Mom is waiting for us to come back for the cake-cutting ceremony."

Sailom's breath caught in his throat.

'Mom.'

Aum never called Sainam 'Mom.' He always addressed her formally. But hearing it now, in this moment, Sailom immediately understood—Aum must have overheard what Arc had been saying.

Arc, who was still glaring at Aum like he wanted to set him on fire, was being completely ignored.

Sailom exhaled, deciding to play along. He forced a casual smile and said, "Ah, I lost track of time. We should head back."

Aum nodded, still smiling, and without hesitation, he reached for Sailom's hand.

Their fingers intertwined naturally. Aum gave a gentle tug, guiding Sailom back toward the party, their hands still linked.

But Arc wasn't done.

"Wait!"

Aum barely had time to react before Arc stepped in front of them, blocking their way.

His eyes were wild with anger. His lips twisted into a scowl. "You think you can just walk away? I am not done talking to you, Lom!"

Sailom's patience had officially run out.

Aum could feel the tension in Sailom's body, could see the fire in his eyes. Sailom was this close to snapping.

Aum squeezed his hand, silently telling him to hold back.

He then turned his gaze to Arc, his usual easy-going expression fading into something much colder.

"If you are done talking about me," Aum said, voice calm but firm, "then we are walking away."

Arc scoffed. "You think you—"

Aum didn't let him finish. "I don't care what you think." He tilted his head, smile sharp. "You weren't worth my time five minutes ago, and you are not worth it now."

Arc visibly bristled, but Aum had already turned away.

"Let's go, Phi" he murmured to Sailom.

Sailom, still gripping Aum's hand tightly, nodded.

Together, they walked back to the party, leaving Arc standing alone in the garden, seething.

And as they disappeared into the crowd, Aum didn't let go of Sailom's hand.

Sailom didn't pull away.

And for once—just for once—Aum thought that maybe, just maybe, Sailom wasn't the only one holding on.