The assignment was simple — draw your family.
For most of Tonkla's classmates, it was an easy joy. Their drawings filled the class chat: colorful houses, smiling parents, siblings, even pets.
But Tonkla's sketch remained unfinished.
The pencil lines on his paper had been erased so many times that the paper was almost thin.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, chewing his lip.
"Mama… would it be okay if I drew another man in my picture?"
Kwan Khao's breath caught for a moment. "Who do you mean, sweetheart?" she asked gently. "You could draw Uncle Toom — Aunt Sai's husband. He's like family to us, isn't he?"
Tonkla shook his head. "No, not Uncle Toom."
He hesitated, then looked up at her with those sharp brown eyes that were so much like his.
"Mama," he whispered, "can you look again? Maybe there's a photo of my dad in heaven that survived the fire?"
Kwan Khao froze.
Then, wordlessly, she knelt beside him, resting her hands on his small shoulders before kissing his cheek.
"I've looked, darling. I really have," she said softly. "If the fire hadn't happened, I'd have kept it safe forever. But you know what? You don't need a picture to see your dad."
She led him to the mirror on the wall and knelt behind him.
"See this?" she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "You have your father's eyes — that sharp, determined look. And his kindness too. Your father was brave and strong, someone who never gave up, no matter how hard things got. I know you'll be just like him."
Tonkla smiled sleepily, the corners of his lips curling as if the words had wrapped him in warmth.
Later that night, when he finally drifted off to sleep, that same smile still lingered on his face.
He was probably dreaming of the gentle, perfect father his mother had painted for him with her words.
Kwan Khao stood by the bed, watching him. Her heart ached in silence.
It's better this way, she told herself.
There was no reason for Tonkla to ever know who his real father was.
She went to her own bed, turned off the light, and pulled the blanket close.
But even as she closed her eyes, sleep refused to come.
Because behind the darkness of her eyelids,
those cold, arrogant eyes still burned —
the eyes of the man she had spent years trying to forget.