~{Chapter 7} New Beginnings~
The text came on a Tuesday afternoon.
I was in my second lecture of the day, half-listening to the professor discuss supply chain management, when my phone buzzed against my thigh.
Ploy: Library. 4 PM. I found that book you were looking for.
I smiled without meaning to.
Me: You didn't have to do that.
Ploy: I know. See you at 4.
I put my phone away and tried to focus on the lecture, but my mind kept drifting.
Ploy and I had fallen into an easy rhythm over the past few weeks. After that day I'd helped her escape the harassment, we'd started spending more time together. At first, it was just accidental bump ins. Then to lunch here and there. Now it became study sessions. Coffee runs. Late-night convenience store trips when neither of us could sleep.
She was easy to be around. Comfortable. She made me laugh without trying too hard, listened when I needed to vent, and never pushed me to talk about things I wasn't ready to discuss.
Being with Ploy didn't make my chest tighten or my heart race the way it did with Liya.
But it was peaceful.
And after everything I've been through, peace felt like exactly what I needed.
I arrived at the library at 3:55 PM.
Ploy was already there, sitting at our usual table near the back, surrounded by books and her laptop. She looked up when she saw me and smiled, that soft, genuine smile that always reached her eyes.
"Hey,"
she said, pushing a book across the table toward me.
"Took me three days to track this down, so you better actually read it."
I picked it up, laughing. "I will. I promise."
"You better."
She leaned back in her chair, studying me.
"You look better today."
"Better?"
"Less... tired," she said carefully. "You've been looking exhausted lately."
I shrugged, sitting down across from her. "Just been busy."
"Mm-hmm."
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. That was one of the things I appreciated most about Ploy, she knew when to let things go.
We worked in comfortable silence for a while, occasionally exchanging comments about our assignments or complaining about professors. It felt normal. Easy.
At some point, I looked up and caught her staring at me.
"What?" I asked.
She blinked, then smiled sheepishly.
"Nothing. You just... you have really nice handwriting."
I glanced down at my notes.
"It's messy." I said.
"It's neat-messy. Organized chaos."
She tilted her head slightly.
"It suits you."
There was something in her tone, something soft and almost tender—that made my stomach flutter just slightly.
I looked away, suddenly unsure of what to say.
"Come on,"
she said, standing up and gathering her things.
"Let's get out of here. I'm starving."
We ended up at a small noodle shop near campus, hidden away in a quiet alley that most students didn't know about. The owner recognized Ploy immediately and greeted her warmly.
"You come here often?" I asked as we sat down.
"All the time," she said. "Best boat noodles in Bangkok. Trust me."
She wasn't wrong.
As we ate, Ploy told me about her day—a disastrous group project, a professor who kept mispronouncing her name, a stray cat she'd found outside her dorm.
I found myself laughing more than I had in weeks.
"You should smile more," she said suddenly.
I paused mid-bite.
"What?"
"You should smile more," she repeated, her expression softening. "It looks good on you."
My cheeks warmed. "You've said that before."
"Because it's true."
I looked down at my bowl, unsure of how to respond.
When I glanced up again, she was still watching me. But this time, there was something different in her eyes, something I couldn't quite name.
______
Over the next few weeks, Ploy and I became inseparable. We studied together. Ate together. Walked to class together. She'd started picking me up from my condo in the mornings, showing up with coffee and that easy smile that always made my day feel a little less heavy.
Santa noticed.
"You've been spending a lot of time with this Ploy girl,"
he said one evening when he came over to help me assemble a bookshelf I'd impulsively bought online.
"She's my friend," I said, handing him a screwdriver.
"I know." He gave me a look. "I'm just saying... it's nice. Seeing you happy again."
I smiled faintly. "Yeah. It is nice."
He didn't ask about Liya. He knew better than that.
Santa had been checking in regularly since I'd moved out, sometimes bringing food, sometimes just showing up to hang out. He never pried, never asked questions I wasn't ready to answer. He was just... there.
And I appreciated it more than I could say.
________
I saw Liya occasionally on campus.
It was inevitable, we attended the same university, had mutual acquaintances, moved in overlapping social circles.
But every time our eyes met, I always tried to look away first.
She tried approaching me once.
I was walking to the parking lot after class when I heard her call my name.
"Maya, wait—"
I kept walking.
"Maya, please—-"
I didn't stop.
I heard her footsteps pause behind me, and I knew she wasn't going to follow.
___
It happened on a Thursday afternoon.
Ploy and I had decided to skip our last lecture and go to a botanical garden on the outskirts of the city. It was her idea. She'd insisted I needed fresh air and sunlight, and I hadn't had the energy to argue.
The garden was beautiful. Quiet. Peaceful.
We walked along the winding paths, surrounded by blooming flowers and towering trees. Ploy kept stopping to take photos, laughing at herself when she couldn't get the angle right.
"Here," I said, taking her phone. "Let me."
I snapped a few pictures of her standing beneath a jacaranda tree, purple petals drifting down around her like snow.
"Perfect," I said, handing the phone back.
She looked at the photos and smiled. "You're really good at this."
"It's just a phone camera."
"Still." She looked up at me. "You have a good eye."
We continued walking until we reached a small pond surrounded by benches. Ploy sat down, and I joined her.
For a while, we just sat there in comfortable silence, watching the koi fish swim lazily beneath the surface.
"Maya," Ploy said eventually.
"Mm?"
"Can I ask you something?"
I glanced at her. "Sure."
She hesitated, then turned to face me fully.
"Are you... okay? Like, really okay?"
I frowned.
"Why are you asking?"
"Because sometimes you get this look," she said quietly. "Like you're somewhere else entirely. Like you're carrying something heavy and you won't let anyone help."
My chest tightened.
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
"Maya—"
"I'm fine, Ploy." My voice came out sharper than I intended.
She flinched slightly, and I immediately felt guilty.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I didn't mean to snap."
"It's okay." She smiled faintly. "I shouldn't have pushed."
"No, you're just... you're being a good friend." I sighed. "I'm just not ready to talk about it yet."
She nodded slowly. "Okay. But when you are... I'm here."
"I know."
She reached over and took my hand, squeezing it gently.
I looked down at our intertwined fingers, my heart doing something strange in my chest.
"Come on," she said, standing up and pulling me with her. "Let's go get ice cream."
That evening, Ploy posted a photo on Instagram.
It was one I'd taken of her beneath the jacaranda tree, petals falling around her like a dream.
The caption read: Sometimes you just need a day like this. 💜
I liked the post without thinking much of it.
But then, an hour later, my phone exploded with notifications.
Messages. Tags. Comments.
I opened Instagram, confused, and my stomach dropped.
The GossipGirls Gang had posted.
It wasn't a video, still. Just a photo.
Of me and Ploy.
Sitting on that bench by the pond. Her hand holding mine. The angle made it look... intimate. Romantic.
The caption read: Kamaya Chantasiri's new girlfriend..!? 👀🌈 Looks like someone's moved on... #LoveIsLove #ButAlsoTEA
The comments were already pouring in.
OMG I knew it
They're so cute together
Wait wasn't she with that other girl? Naliya?
She moves fast lol
This is actually really sweet tho
I stared at the screen, my heart pounding.
My phone buzzed.
Santa: Maya. Are you okay? I just saw the post.
Santa: Call me if you need anything.
I didn't reply. Instead, I called Ploy.
She answered immediately.
"I saw it."
"Ploy, I'm so sorry—"
"Don't apologize," she said firmly. "This isn't your fault."
"But they're going to come after you again—"
"Let them."
Her voice was steady, unwavering.
"I'm not afraid of them. And Maya I'm not letting them hurt you either, I'll viciously go after anyone who tries to."
My throat tightened. "Ploy..."
"We'll handle this together," she said. "Okay?"
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me.
"Okay."
The next day, the whispers followed me everywhere.
In the hallways. In the canteen. Even in the restroom.
But this time, Ploy was with me.
She walked beside me with her head held high, completely unbothered by the stares and murmurs. And somehow, that made it easier for me to do the same.
"You're brave,"
I said quietly as we sat down for lunch.
She looked at me and smiled.
"So are you."
_____
I saw Liya that afternoon.
She was standing near the library entrance, Nongpum was for once nowhere to be found. Her eyes were fixed on me.
Or rather, on me and Ploy.
We were sitting on a bench outside, sharing a bag of chips and laughing about something ridiculous Ploy had said. I felt Liya's gaze like a weight, and when I finally looked up, our eyes met.
Her expression was unreadable. But her jaw was tight, her hands clenched at her sides.
She looked... hurt. Angry.
Jealous?.
I looked away first.
It kept happening.
Every time Ploy and I were together—studying, eating, walking—I'd catch Liya watching us.
Once, she was standing in the canteen when Ploy leaned over to steal a bite of my food, laughing when I tried to swat her hand away. I glanced up and saw Liya across the room, her expression dark, her grip on her water bottle so tight I thought it might crack.
Another time, Ploy and I were leaving my class together when Liya appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"Maya," she said, her voice tight. "Can we talk?"
"No," I said flatly, brushing past her.
Ploy followed without a word.
Liya didn't try again that day.
But I could feel her eyes on my back as we walked away.
Days passed.
Ploy and I grew even closer. She'd started staying over at my condo sometimes, sprawled on my couch with a blanket, watching terrible reality shows and making fun of the contestants.
She fit into my life so easily, so naturally, that I didn't even notice it happening.
Until one afternoon, when she looked at me a little too long.
We were seated under a tree across the Art center, it was a bit further from the main school building. Peaceful. Quite. Watching students go about their day to day lives.
"Maya," she said softly.
"Mm?"
"Do you ever think about the future?"
I glanced at her. "Sometimes. Why?"
She smiled faintly. "I just wonder what yours looks like."
"Probably boring," I said. "Managing a company I don't care about. Going to events I don't want to attend."
"That sounds awful."
"It is."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she said,
"What if it didn't have to be like that?"
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"What if you could choose something different?"
She turned to face me fully.
"What if you could choose... someone different?"
My heart stuttered.
"Ploy—"
"I like you, Maya,"
she said, her voice steady but soft.
"I really like you. I know this might be terrible timing, and I know you're still dealing with... whatever you're dealing with. But I couldn't keep pretending I don't feel this way."
I stared at her, my mind racing.
"I don't expect you to say anything right now," she continued. "I just... I needed you to know."
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My mind was blank, spinning. Then I saw a figure approaching us.
I froze.
"Can I talk to you?"
Liya's eyes were wild, desperate.
"Please—?"
"I don't want to talk to you."
"Maya, please—"
"No." My voice was sharp.
"You don't get to do this. You don't get to show up here uninvited and—"
Liya grabbed my arm and pulled me away before I could finish what I was saying. I tried resisting but gave in when I saw I couldn't outmuscle her. We got to a quiet place, no one was there.
"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded my voice still sharp, hurt.
"I can't do this anymore," Liya said, her voice breaking. "I can't watch you be with her,"
"Liya—"
"Don't," Liya snapped, her voice pleading.
"Please... don't."
She stepped closer and gripped my shoulders, her expression raw and desperate.
"I made a mistake," she said. "I know I did. I hurt you, and I'm sorry. But please, Maya, don't do this. Don't choose her just because you're trying to forget me."
"That's not what this is—"
"Isn't it?" she demanded. "Because from over here, it looks like it."
My hands clenched into fists.
"You have no right—"
She kissed me.
The world went quiet.
It was soft— gently, at first. Then, slowly—intensified.
For half a second, my body responded. My lips moved against hers. I felt shock wave go from my brain to my spine. Goosebumps flushed throughout my body. My nipples erected instantly. I couldn't breathe. My heart was screaming yes yes yes—
And then reality crashed back in.
I shoved her away. And slapped her.
The sound echoed in the silence.
Liya stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and guilt.
"How dare you?" I said, my voice shaking with rage. "How dare you kiss me and act like that fixes everything."
"Maya—"
"You think I'm easy don't you, you'll just kiss me whenever it's convenient for you, Run off when it's time to take responsibility. And then when you think no one's watching, you come and kiss me again. What do you take me for? Do you think I'm some—"
"I like you, Maya."
The words hung in the air like a bomb.
I stared at her, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.
"No... I love you,"
she repeated, her voice shaking.
"I don't know when it started. Maybe since the day I met you in the rain. Or the day I impulsively abandoned my boyfriend to follow you. I've been too scared to say it, too scared to choose you, I've been a coward Maya and I hate myself for it. But I can't keep pretending I don't."
Tears were streaming down her face now.
"Please," she whispered. "Please don't give up on me, just one last chance to fix this, to fix us, please.
I stood there, frozen. My palm still stinging from where I'd slapped her. My lips still burning from where she'd kissed me. My heart screaming at me to say something—anything—but my voice had disappeared entirely.