The afternoon sunlight streamed softly through the apartment windows, casting golden streaks across the counters and walls. Karan hummed quietly to himself as he plated a dish, the aroma of freshly seared salmon mingling with hints of garlic and herbs. The camera for his live cooking stream was set up in the corner, and though the recording had been paused for a brief break, he moved with the practiced ease of someone entirely in his element.
Arthit lounged on the couch, feet tucked under him, reading a report on his tablet. The faint clatter of the kitchen—the knife against the cutting board, the hiss of the stove—was a comforting backdrop to the warmth of home.
"You know," Arthit murmured without looking up, "you're starting to make it impossible for me to ever leave this apartment."
Karan looked up, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Impossible? That's the plan." He set the knife down, brushing a finger across Arthit's cheek before returning to his work. "Besides, someone has to supervise me while I make sure the world sees my genius."
Arthit tilted his head, lips curving in amusement. "Genius, huh? Is this genius of yours going to feed me all day?"
"Exactly." Karan winked, plating the salmon with careful precision. "And tonight, I was thinking… a surprise."
Arthit's eyes sparkled, though he only shook his head, a soft laugh escaping him. "You and your surprises."
Before Karan could answer, the soft chime of the doorbell echoed through the apartment. He paused, knife in hand, brow furrowed.
"That must be…" he trailed off, glancing at Arthit.
"Wait… I think I know who it is," Arthit said, voice low. He set the tablet aside and straightened, a faint edge of caution in his expression. "It's… my mother. And Anant."
Karan froze mid-motion, then chuckled nervously. "Your mom and your brother? Here? At this hour?"
Arthit ran a hand through his hair, a flicker of unease crossing his otherwise calm face. "They didn't give me much warning. But it's fine… I trust you."
Karan let out a deep breath and moved toward the door, smoothing his apron. "Alright… deep breaths. You got this. I got this. And hey, maybe they'll like the salmon."
Arthit followed silently, leaning against the wall as Karan opened the door. Standing there were two figures: a poised, elegant woman whose eyes carried both sharpness and warmth, and a tall, broad-shouldered man whose presence radiated quiet authority.
"Mrs. Sakda, Anant," Karan said smoothly, bowing his head slightly in greeting. "Welcome."
Mrs. Sakda's lips curved in a polite, almost calculating smile. "Karan. It's good to finally see the home where Arthit feels… safe." Her gaze swept over the apartment, lingering on the kitchen setup, the neatness, and finally on Karan himself. There was curiosity in her eyes, but also a subtle assessment—as if she were weighing his worth carefully.
Anant, in contrast, was all alertness, eyes sharp as they rested on Karan. "I've heard a lot about you," he said evenly, voice calm but carrying the weight of scrutiny. "Arthit talks… a lot." A small smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Mostly about how protective you are of him."
Karan chuckled, holding the door wider to let them in. "I suppose I am. But I also try to be… charming." He gave Arthit a glance, who rolled his eyes fondly from the couch.
Mrs. Sakda's attention shifted, examining the counter where the salmon was now plated beautifully. "It smells wonderful. Are you cooking professionally, Karan?"
"Yes, ma'am. I run an online live stream now, teaching recipes, sharing ideas… and occasionally showing off," he said, gesturing with a light hand. "But today, it's all about… making sure Arthit gets spoiled."
Arthit's lips curved into a soft, appreciative smile, but he stayed quiet, watching Karan navigate the interaction with a practiced ease.
Mrs. Sakda tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly, the sharpness returning. "You care about him?" she asked simply.
"More than I ever thought I could care about anyone," Karan said honestly, meeting her gaze without hesitation. "He's my heart, ma'am. I've waited a long time for him… and now, I'll do everything I can to keep him safe and happy."
There was a pause. Mrs. Sakda's expression softened slightly, though her eyes still carried that subtle caution. "Words are easy. Actions… matter."
Karan nodded firmly. "Actions matter. That's why I stay here, why I make sure he's cared for, loved, and respected. You'll see it every day… not just in words."
Anant stepped closer, his gaze flicking from Karan to Arthit, as if measuring the energy between them. "Arthit has been through a lot," he said, tone firm. "We all want to know that whoever is with him… can be trusted."
Karan didn't flinch. He leaned against the counter casually, brushing a hand over a small plate of herbs. "I understand. And I don't expect your trust immediately. I'll earn it. You'll see how serious I am about him."
Arthit stood, walking over to stand beside Karan, brushing a hand along his back. "Mom… Anant… this is Karan. He's been my partner, my support… my home. And he's been keeping me safe, happy, and loved, every day."
Mrs. Sakda's eyes softened slightly at her son's words, but she didn't let her guard down. "We've seen what the world can do, Arthit. And we've seen what it can take away. Karan… I'll be watching. But I want to believe what you say is true."
Karan smiled gently. "I welcome that. And I hope that in time, I'll earn not just your approval, but your respect as well."
Anant's sharp gaze softened, though only slightly. "I just want to make sure he's not hurt," he said quietly, almost a whisper. "And that you can handle everything that comes with being around him."
"I don't just handle it," Karan replied, voice steady. "I protect him, cherish him, and make sure he thrives. And I do it willingly, because I love him."
There was a silence, charged yet comfortable, as the three adults gauged each other. Finally, Mrs. Sakda's lips curved into a small, approving smile. "We'll see," she said, voice still measured. "But… you have promise. And Karan, you should know—we don't interfere, but we notice. Every little detail."
Karan nodded, brushing a hand over his apron. "I'll keep that in mind."
Anant finally spoke again, voice lighter, teasing even. "So… you cook, huh? Maybe you can impress us further. Let's see if your skills are as sharp as your words."
Karan laughed softly, warmth spreading through him. "You're on. Give me ten minutes… and I'll make a dish that even Mrs. Sakda can't resist."
Arthit leaned back against him, voice low and amused. "Be careful… you might just win them over completely."
The next ten minutes were a flurry of activity. Karan moved effortlessly, chopping, searing, seasoning, and plating with precision. Anant observed closely, his expression neutral but eyes bright with interest, while Mrs. Sakda occasionally nodded, approving yet still observant.
Finally, Karan presented the dish: a delicate salmon fillet with a citrus glaze, garnished with fresh herbs and edible flowers, the aroma filling the room.
Mrs. Sakda raised an eyebrow, tasting a small bite. A faint smile appeared, genuine this time. "I'll admit… this is remarkable."
Anant took a cautious bite, then another, eyes widening slightly. "Not bad," he said, voice low but impressed. "You've got skills… and you're serious about him. I can see that."
Karan bowed his head slightly, smiling warmly. "Thank you. That means a lot… coming from both of you."
Arthit reached for Karan's hand under the table, squeezing it lightly. "See?" he whispered. "You're winning them over."
Mrs. Sakda's eyes softened finally, though there was still that glimmer of sharpness, a reminder that she would always be watching. "We'll be keeping an eye," she said, voice light but firm. "But for now… I can see he makes you happy, Arthit. That's what matters."
Anant leaned back, smirk tugging at his lips. "Just… don't let anyone hurt him. Or I will."
Karan's gaze met his steadily. "You don't have to worry about that. I've got him… completely. And I always will."
For a moment, the apartment was filled with warmth, the kind of quiet reassurance that only comes when love, family, and trust intertwine. Arthit rested his head against Karan's shoulder, feeling safe, protected, and deeply cared for.
Mrs. Sakda and Anant lingered a while longer, sharing stories, teasing lightly, and sampling Karan's dishes. By the time they left, there was a mutual understanding—cautious, yes, but also respect, approval, and recognition of the bond that had survived every challenge.
Once the door closed behind them, Karan exhaled, leaning back against the counter with a soft smile.
"See?" he said, brushing a hand along Arthit's back. "Nothing to worry about."
Arthit tilted his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "I think they like you. Just a little. But mostly… they're scared of you."
Karan laughed, pressing a kiss to Arthit's temple. "Good. I like that balance."
Arthit smiled, tugging him close. "I like it too. Because no matter what… you're mine."
"Always," Karan whispered, wrapping him tightly in his arms.
And in that quiet apartment, the city's pulse far below, they knew one truth: challenges would come, watchful eyes would linger, and plans might unfold in shadows—but together, they were stronger than anything. Together, they were home.
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End of Chapter 42