PitBabe Cast: Imagines

SailubPon: Mine 7

The hum of conversation buzzed around us like the steady pulse of a heartbeat, filling the grand dining hall in the heart of Phnom Penh. The air carried the rich aroma of lemongrass and chili, a tantalizing contrast to the sterile, manufactured chill of the airport we had left behind only hours ago. Laughter echoed from the next table over, glasses clinked, and plates scraped as the night carried on in a warm haze of camaraderie.

It was supposed to be different.

Valentine's Day had slipped through our fingers, lost in the relentless tide of schedules and obligations. I had imagined something intimate—just the two of us curled up on the balcony of our apartment, candles flickering in the breeze, the city stretching below as we toasted to another year together. Instead, here we were, surrounded by friends and colleagues, pretending like today was just another ordinary evening.

I stared down at my plate, pushing the food around with my fork. The vibrant colors of the curry—deep gold and fiery red—should have been enticing, but the flavors were muted on my tongue, dulled by the weight pressing against my chest.

A shift in the air told me Sailub had noticed. Of course, he had.

His gaze found mine across the table, warm and knowing, dark eyes filled with quiet concern. His head tilted just slightly as he leaned in. "Hey, what's wrong?" His voice was low, intimate, just for me.

I forced a smile, though I could already feel it faltering at the edges. "Nothing," I murmured, hoping it would be enough to satisfy him, but I knew better. The disappointment clung to me, stubborn and unshakable. I had spent weeks preparing something special—a private dinner, soft music, rose petals scattered across the table. A gift I had poured my heart into, now tucked away in a drawer back home, untouched. Work had stolen that moment from us, and no matter how much I told myself it didn't matter, the ache in my chest said otherwise.

Sailub's hand brushed mine under the table, his fingers warm against my skin. He didn't squeeze, didn't press—just traced slow, soothing circles with his thumb, like he could erase the tension coiled in my bones.

"You okay?" he murmured again, his voice quieter this time, nearly lost in the sounds around us.

I hesitated. The words I wanted to say sat heavy on my tongue, but instead, I exhaled and lied, "Fine. Just tired."

He didn't believe me. I could see it in the way his brows knit together, the way his lips parted as if he might push further—but then, just as quickly, he let it go. Not because he was convinced, but because he knew me.

Sailub had always known me, in ways that scared me sometimes. He could read the things I tried to hide, the words I left unspoken. It was one of the many reasons I had fallen for him, this quiet, unwavering way he saw me.

The dinner stretched on, voices rising and falling, the night slipping further from our grasp. Then, as plates were cleared and drinks refilled, Sailub leaned in close—so close that I felt his breath ghost along my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. His voice was low, teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something deliberate. Something wanting.

I swallowed hard, my heart stuttering against my ribs.

Sailub wasn't the type for grand surprises. He preferred quiet gestures, fleeting touches, moments spoken through action rather than words. But tonight, there was something different in his eyes.

I nodded.

And then I waited.

Ten minutes stretched longer than they should have, each second weighed down by anticipation. When I finally made my way to the hotel lobby, I found him waiting, leaning casually against the cool marble wall. The overhead lights cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the quiet intensity in his gaze.