Autumn is a second spring

146. Twenty four hours

Fluke's hands were ice-cold as he held the thick stack of papers. His fingers trembled so badly that a few sheets slipped from his grasp and scattered over the coffee table. The printouts looked ordinary — black text on white paper — but his eyes saw nothing except the disaster each word represented.

He swallowed hard. "H-how did you get these?" His voice cracked halfway through.

Ohm stood across from him, arms folded, leaning against the edge of the sofa. The city lights behind him washed his face in pale gold, sharp shadows tracing his jawline. His expression was unreadable — too calm to be neutral, too still to be forgiving.

"How I got them doesn't matter," Ohm said finally, his tone quiet, deliberate. "You really think that's the most important question right now?"

Fluke's throat went dry. "I can explain, phi" he stammered, his voice small, almost pleading.

Ohm's mouth twitched — not quite a smile, more a grimace of disbelief. "You can explain now?" His voice sharpened, slicing through the air. "Khun Fluke suddenly knows how to explain?"

Fluke flinched at the sarcasm. "Please, P' Ohm... it was a mix-up. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. It wasn't intentional."

Ohm's eyes flickered with something fierce before narrowing again. "A misunderstanding?" His voice dropped lower, steadier. "Then tell me — if it was all a misunderstanding, why didn't you tell me anything?"

Fluke's gaze dropped to the floor. Words formed and dissolved in his head, none of them good enough. Silence stretched.

When Ohm spoke again, it was softer — but colder. "You know, now that everything's out, it really feels like this was all planned by you."

Fluke's head snapped up, eyes wide. "What? No—Phi, that's not true!"

Ohm gave a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Think about it. You bring up how P' Kao and Earth had Art, how Boun and Prem had Bew. You said we didn't have anyone, and you sounded... disappointed. And then, a few days later, you tell me P' Ja's running research that could help same-sex couples conceive. It's so convenient, Fluke. You always wanted a child, and like always, I gave in to make you happy. I signed up for the research. You collected both our samples, sent them to the lab. And now—" he gestured at the papers "—now it all adds up."

The accusation hit like a slap. Fluke's pulse roared in his ears. "Phi, no. My Dad—he found out. He thought Fame was pregnant with my child, he was furious. He took the sample I sent to the lab and used it to impregnate the surrogate. I swear, it wasn't me!"

Ohm's gaze turned razor-sharp. "Fame," he said quietly. "That's another secret you kept from me." His lips curled slightly. "Back then, I acted like I didn't know. I wanted to trust you."

"You are making it sound like I cheated on you," Fluke whispered.

"You didn't have to sleep with her to betray me," Ohm said, his voice suddenly raw. "You knew I didn't want you around her. But you stayed in touch anyway. Maybe not physically, but you went behind my back. That's enough."

Fluke's lips trembled. "I didn't—"

Ohm cut him off, tone tightening again. "We are not here to rehash the past. Let's stick to the facts. You also made me pick the surrogate, didn't you?"

Fluke blinked, dazed. "I—No, I just wanted to calm my dad down. I didn't know it would turn out like this."

A heavy silence settled. Both men stood still, the hum of the air conditioner filling the distance between them.

Then Ohm exhaled — a long, weary sigh that cracked slightly at the end. When he spoke, his voice carried something fragile. "If what you said is true, then why did you hide it from me, Fluke?"