~[Chapter 6] New One~
The morning after felt unreal. Like the world had moved on without checking if I was ready.
I woke up late, head pounding, throat dry, eyes swollen even though I didn't remember crying. My dress was still on me, wrinkled and uncomfortable. I stared at the ceiling for a long time, trying to convince myself that last night hadn't happened.
It had.
My phone lay faced down on the bedside table.
No messages.
No missed calls.
I turned it face down again.
I stood in the shower longer than I should have, letting the water burn against my skin. Even then, I didn't move. I just stood there, numb, replaying her words over and over.
"This was a mistake."
The water shut off automatically. I wrapped a towel around myself and walked back into my room, dripping water across the floor. I didn't care. Everything felt like a chore. Getting up. Showering. Dressing. Breathing. I dragged myself through it anyway, because that's what I'd learned to do, keep moving even when something inside me had gone quiet.
That day, I decided to have breakfast with my parents. I sat across from them, picking at the food on my plate without really eating.
My mother was scrolling through her tablet. My father read the business section of the newspaper. The silence was familiar. Comfortable, even, in its predictability.
I set down my fork.
"I want to move out," I said.
My mother's hand paused mid-scroll. My father didn't look up from his paper.
"Move out?"
my mother repeated, her tone flat.
"Why?"
"I need my own space," I said carefully. "Closer to campus. It'll be easier."
"Easier,"
she echoed, finally looking at me. Her eyes were cold.
"Or more convenient for whatever it is you've been doing?"
My stomach tightened.
"I haven't been doing anything."
"Is that so?"
She set her tablet down with a deliberate click.
"Because I've been hearing very interesting things lately. Rumors. Your name being thrown around with—"
"That's not—"
"Don't interrupt me young lady." Her voice was sharp, cutting.
"Do you have any idea what people are saying? What this looks like for us? For this family?"
I clenched my fists under the table.
"Nothing happened," I said quietly. "It's just rumors."
"Just rumors," she repeated mockingly. "The same way Jai's death was 'just an accident'? You always have excuses, don't you?"
The words hit like a slap.
"That's not fair—"
"Fair?" She leaned forward, eyes blazing. "You want to talk about fair? Your brother is dead because of you. And now you want to move out so you can do God knows what without us watching?"
"Dararat,"
my father said quietly, still not looking up from his paper.
My mother's jaw tightened, but she leaned back.
I stared at my plate, throat burning, trying to keep my composure.
My father folded his newspaper neatly and set it aside. He looked at me for the first time that morning—not with warmth, not with concern, just... assessment. Like I was a business problem he needed to solve.
"You want to move out,"
he said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes sir."
"Why now?"
I swallowed.
"I need space. I'm old enough—"
"You're old enough when I say you're old enough,"
he interrupted calmly.
"But I understand the appeal. Living on your own. Managing your own affairs."
He picked up his coffee, took a slow sip.
"Fine. You can move out."
My mother's head snapped toward him.
"Chanta—"
"She's eighteen," he said, still looking at me. "She'll be managing Sĩrĩ Navari eventually. She needs to learn responsibility."
He leaned back in his chair.
"But let me be very clear, Kamaya. You will do nothing—nothing—to bring shame to this family's name. No scandals. No embarrassing headlines. No behavior that reflects poorly on Sĩrĩ Navari, or this household."
His eyes were cold, businesslike.
"Your actions don't just affect you. They affect our reputation. Our partnerships. Our standing in this industry. If you tarnish that because you want to be careless, there will be consequences. Do you understand?"
I nodded.
"I need to hear you say it."
"I understand," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Good."
He went back to his newspaper.
"I'll have the financial arrangements handled. Find a place close to campus. Something appropriate. Not too extravagant, but respectable. I don't want people saying we're neglecting you."
He paused.
"And Kamaya?"
I looked up.
"Don't make me regret this."
He didn't sound like he wanted a reply. It was pure warning. My mother remained seated, staring at me with barely concealed disgust.
"You always get what you want, don't you?" she said quietly. "Even when you don't deserve it."
She stood up, picking up her tablet.
"I hope whatever you're running toward is worth it. Because when it all falls apart—and it will—don't expect us to clean your mess."
She walked away.
I excused myself.
I threw myself into the bed as soon as I got to my room, feeling the weight of their words settle over me like a shroud.
"Don't bring shame to the family."
"Don't make me regret this."
"You always have excuses."
I picked up my stuff and went to search for an apartment.
_______
I stood in the middle of my new condo, boxes stacked everywhere, feeling both relieved and hollow.
It wasn't much. A one-bedroom unit on the fifth floor of a building ten minutes from campus. Small kitchen. Decent bathroom. Large windows that let in too much light.
But it was mine.
The housekeeper had helped me move most of my things earlier.
After the almost threat-like warning I got from my parents, nothing else came. No concern. No questions. Just... nothing.
I sat on the bare floor, surrounded by boxes I didn't have the energy to unpack. The silence in the condo felt heavier than the one at the mansion. At least there, I could blame it on the size of the house. On my parents' absence.
Here, it was just me.
And the echo of everything I was trying not to think about.
Monday.
I went to class.
Head up. Earbuds in. Face neutral.
People stared. Whispered. I felt their eyes on me like they were waiting for something to happen. I couldn't remember how or when I became this popular, but it seems I unfortunately have. I ignored them.
In the lecture hall, I sat in my usual spot near the back. Pulled out my notebook. Pretended to pay attention.
The professor droned on about market analysis and consumer behavior. I took notes mechanically, my hand moving across the page while my mind was somewhere else entirely.
Somewhere with her.
I shook my head and forced myself to focus.
After class, I was walking to the canteen when I saw her.
Liya.
She was coming from the opposite direction, laughing at something one of her friends said. Her hair was down today, catching the sunlight. She looked beautiful.
She always looked beautiful.
Our eyes met.
For a second, everything around us seemed to slow.
I saw the way her smile faltered. The way her steps hesitated. The way her lips parted like she wanted to say something.
I looked away first.
Kept walking.
Didn't look back.
My chest felt tight, but I kept my expression blank.
She didn't follow.
She didn't call out.
Good.
Tuesday.
I skipped lunch.
Not because I wasn't hungry, but because I couldn't bear the thought of sitting in that canteen. The same spot where I used to wait for her every day.
Instead, I found an empty classroom on the third floor and ate a protein bar while scrolling mindlessly through my phone.
No messages from her.
Not that I expected any.
I opened Instagram out of habit and immediately regretted it.
Liya's story popped up first.
A photo of her and Nongpum at some café. His arm around her shoulders. Both of them smiling.
The caption read: Coffee date with this one ☕️💕
I stared at it for longer than I should have.
Then closed the app.
Put my phone away.
And tried to breathe through the tightness in my chest.
Wednesday.
I saw her again.
This time in the library. I was looking for a textbook when I turned a corner and nearly ran into her.
We both froze.
"Maya—" she started.
I stepped around her without a word and kept walking.
"Maya, wait—"
I didn't stop.
I heard her footsteps behind me for a moment, then they stopped.
I didn't turn around.
When I got back to my table, my hands were shaking.
I shoved them under the desk and forced myself to focus on my readings.
But the words blurred together.
All I could think about was the way she'd said my name.
Soft. Almost pleading.
Like she had any right to.
Thursday evening.
I was unpacking boxes in my condo when my phone rang.
I glanced at the screen.
Santa.
I almost didn't answer.
But something made me pick up.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey yourself,"
he replied. His voice was warm, easy.
"You busy?"
"Just unpacking."
"Unpacking? Unpacking what?."
"I moved out of the mansion."
"Oh, I had no idea."
It went silent.
"Want some help? I'm less busy. I could bring food."
I hesitated.
The truth was, I didn't want to be alone. The silence in the condo was starting to get to me. Every creak, every distant sound, reminded me of how empty this place felt.
"Sure," I said finally.
"That would be nice."
"Great. Send me the address, I'll be there in twenty."
Santa showed up with Thai takeout and an easy smile.
"Nice place,"
he said, looking around as he set the food on my small dining table.
"Very... minimalist."
"I literally just moved in."
"I know. I'm just teasing."
He unpacked the containers.
"Come on, let's eat before it gets cold."
We sat across from each other, and for the first time in days, I felt something close to normal.
Santa was easy to talk to. He didn't pry. Didn't ask uncomfortable questions. Just talked about random things—his classes, a funny incident at his internship, a new restaurant he wanted to try.
"You seem different,"
he said eventually. I looked up.
"Different how?"
"I don't know. Quieter, maybe. Like you're... carrying something."
I set down my chopsticks.
"I'm fine."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
He studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"Alright. But if you ever want to talk about whatever it is you're not talking about right now, I'm here."
I managed a small smile.
"Thanks."
"Anytime, pumpkin."
I couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Pumpkin? what's that."
I asked struggling between containing my laughter and keeping my food in my mouth
"Your new name."
He replied, trying to keep a serious face. He couldn't. Eventually he gave in.
_______
Friday.
I was leaving my last class of the day when I noticed a commotion near the campus canteen.
A small crowd had gathered, phones out, recording something.
I slowed down, curious despite myself.
Then I heard shouting.
"Just admit it! Everyone already knows!"
"Leave me alone!"
I pushed through the crowd and saw what was happening.
A girl stood in the center, surrounded by five or six students. They were laughing, taunting, filming.
"Come on, don't be shy. Give us details, what did her lips taste like? How did you guys start dating? Are you still together?."
The girl tried to walk away, but they blocked her path.
"We're not done yet."
Something inside me snapped.
I stepped forward.
"Leave her alone,"
I said, my voice cutting through the noise.
Everyone turned to look at me.
One of the guys smirked.
"Oh look, it's the viper. What, you her girlfriend or something?"
Laughter erupted.
I ignored him and looked at the girl.
"Come on," I said. "Let's go."
She hesitated for a second, then nodded.
We walked away together, leaving them behind, still laughing, still filming.
We didn't say anything for a while.
Just walked in silence until we were far enough from campus that the noise faded.
She stopped near a tree and leaned against it, catching her breath.
"Thank you,"
she said quietly.
"Don't mention it."
She looked at me then, really looked at me.
"You're Maya, right? Kamaya Chantasiri?"
I nodded.
"I'm Ploy," she said. "Ploypailin Kulthanan."
I recognized the name. Her family owned Kulth's fitting & co. a rising fashion brand.
"I know who you are," I said.
She smiled faintly.
"Of course you do."
Silence.
"They posted about me a few months ago,"
she said after a while.
"The GossipGirls. Someone recorded me kissing my girlfriend at a party. Posted it everywhere."
She looked down at her hands.
"My girlfriend broke up with me some days later. Couldn't handle the attention. And now... this is my life. Being harassed. Filmed. Laughed at."
Her voice cracked slightly.
I felt something tighten in my chest.
"I'm sorry," I said.
She looked at me and smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"You don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything."
"Still."
She tilted her head, studying me.
"You're different from what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. Someone colder. More untouchable. That's what people say about you."
I looked away.
"Maybe I am."
"Maybe," she said. "But you stepped in back there. You didn't have to."
I shrugged.
"Neither did you when you're standing here talking to me."
She laughed softly.
"Guess we're both a little stupid then."
I couldn't help it. I smiled.
Ploy noticed.
"You have a nice smile," she said. "You should smile more often."
I blinked, not knowing what to say to that.
"You want to grab something to eat?" she asked.
I hesitated. Then nodded.
"Yeah. Okay."