Autumn is a second spring

143. Attack

Prem shot James a cold glance before walking toward the intercom. His movements were sharp, controlled, but his chest felt tight. He pressed the screen—and froze. The person standing at the gate was the last one he wanted to see.

Boun.

Prem's heart dropped. For a second, he genuinely thought he had hallucinated. But no—the camera clearly showed Boun standing there, looking uncertain, hands shoved in his pockets. A bitter laugh escaped Prem's lips.

He turned back toward James, who looked startled by the sound. "You didn't," Prem said, crossing his arms across his chest. "You didn't actually summon Hia here too, did you?"

James's eyes widened. "What? No—I mean, yes—but it's not—"

"Oh, perfect," Prem cut him off, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What's next? You are planning to recreate some low-budget Chinese drama scene? You know, where the white lotus sheds fake tears, and the hero shows up right on cue to save her? Then she will point at the villain—me—and say I made her cry, and the hero will scold me?"

James blinked, genuinely taken aback. "Khun Prem, that's not what this is. You are misunderstanding—"

"Oh, I am misunderstanding?" Prem laughed, a humorless sound. "Let me guess—you told Hia to come over, to make things right? To get us back together? How considerate of you."

James looked pained, fumbling for words. "I—I just thought maybe if you two talked, things could get better. You both—"

Prem cut him off again, his voice low but sharp. "You thought wrong." He took a step closer, his gaze hard. "Because you know what's really going to happen? He will walk in, see your tears, and start blaming me for making you cry—just like in those dramas. Don't deny it. He has always taken your side, and today will be no different."

James shook his head frantically. "No, Khun Prem, that's not—"

"Enough." Prem's tone was final. "I don't want to talk to you or him. Take him with you and leave."

For a moment, silence filled the space. James's eyes glistened, his lips trembling. This was not how he had imagined this would go. The Prem he had met before had always been calm, patient—a man with a quiet sort of charm. But now... there was bitterness in his eyes, exhaustion in every word.

James wanted to fix things. He had barely slept the night before, guilt gnawing at him. He had seen the toll the breakup had taken on Boun—the empty smiles, the quiet moments of staring at nothing. Boun had been pretending for everyone's sake, especially little Bew's. But James had seen the cracks. He had caught Boun crying alone more than once, shoulders shaking, whispering Prem's name like a prayer.

That was why he'd come. He couldn't stand it anymore.

"I told Khun Boun this was the location of a client meeting," James admitted softly. "He doesn't know I am here. He doesn't know this is your place."

Prem scoffed. "Really? You think he is that stupid? He has been here plenty of times—he knows it's Fluke's apartment. He knows my parents and I are staying here. Don't insult my intelligence, James."

James opened his mouth, but Prem lifted a hand to silence him. "Just go. I don't want any more drama." His voice wavered slightly. "I don't want to be connected to him anymore."

James bit his lip, nodded once, and stood up. He wiped his tears hastily with the back of his hand. "I am sorry," he whispered.

Prem didn't reply. He opened the door and stepped aside for James to leave.

Just as James walked out, Boun spotted him from the other side of the gate. The moment their eyes met, Boun rushed forward. "James! What happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice full of concern.