~[Chapter 8] Unraveling~
Silence stretched between us for what felt like an eternity. Liya stood there, tears streaming down her face. Her confession hung in the air like smoke. Thick, suffocating, impossible to ignore.
"Please," she whispered again. "Just one last chance."
I wanted to say no. I wanted to turn around and walk away. To go back to Ploy, who was probably still waiting under that tree, confused and hurt.
But I couldn't move.
Because despite everything—despite the pain, the abandonment, the weeks of silence, my heart was still hers.
It had always been hers.
"One chance,"
I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
"That's all you get, Liya. One."
Her eyes widened, hope flickering across her face like a flame catching wind.
"One chance,"
she repeated, nodding frantically.
"That's all I need. I promise, Maya. I won't mess this up again."
I took a shaky breath.
"We're not... we're not jumping back into anything. We start over. Slowly. As friends first."
"Friends,"
she agreed immediately.
"Whatever you need."
I nodded, suddenly exhausted.
"I need to go."
"Okay."
I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me.
"Maya?"
I looked back.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For giving me another chance. I won't waste it."
I didn't respond. I just walked away.
When I got back to the tree, Ploy was gone.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the empty spot where she'd been sitting, guilt twisting in my stomach like a knife.
I pulled out my phone and texted her.
Me: I'm sorry. Something came up. Can we talk later?
The message delivered. But she didn't respond.
Over the next few days, Liya and I fell into a careful, tentative rhythm.
She started texting me again. Nothing heavy. Just small things.
Liya: Good morning 🌸
Liya: Did you eat lunch yet?
Liya: I saw this and thought of you [photo of a cat sleeping in a flower pot]
At first, I didn't know how to respond. Part of me wanted to ignore her, to protect myself from getting hurt again.
But another part of me—the part that had missed her desperately for weeks—couldn't help but text back.
Me: Morning.
Me: Not yet. You?
Me: That's cute.
It was simple. Safe.
And slowly, we started talking again.
We met for coffee one afternoon. Then lunch a few days later. Then we studied together at the library.
It felt strange at first—like trying on old clothes that didn't quite fit anymore. But gradually, the awkwardness faded. We started laughing again. Talking about everything and nothing.
It wasn't the same as before. But it was something.
And for now, that something was enough.
The problem now, was Ploy.
She'd been calling. Texting. Asking if I was okay, if we could talk.
But every time her name lit up my phone, I was with Liya.
And I couldn't bring myself to answer.
I told myself I'd call her back later. That I'd explain everything when I had time.
But "later" kept getting pushed further and further away.
One evening, Santa came over to drop off some food I'd asked him to get me.
"You seem better,"
He said, settling onto my couch with a beer.
"Less... sad."
I smiled faintly. "Yeah. I guess."
"Liya's been coming around a lot,"
he observed casually.
"You two worked things out?"
I hesitated. "We're... rebuilding. Taking it slow."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer.
"Good. I'm glad. She's been miserable without you."
I looked at him.
"You knew?"
"That you two were close? Yeah."
He took a sip of his beer.
"I didn't know the details, but I could tell something was going on. You're both happier when you're together."
I didn't know what to say to that.
"Just..."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"Be careful, okay? I don't want either of you getting hurt again."
"I will,"
I promised.
He smiled.
"Good."
___
It was a Wednesday afternoon when the news broke.
I was in class, half-listening to a lecture on corporate finance, when my phone buzzed with a notification.
I glanced down and froze.
Breaking News: "Tax Fraud Investigation Launched Against Sĩrĩ Navari and Chai Luxury Atelier."
My stomach dropped.
I opened the article, my hands shaking slightly.
Bangkok authorities have launched an investigation into alleged tax fraud involving luxury brands Sĩrĩ Navari and Chai Luxury Atelier. Sources say a senior employee in the finance department is suspected of embezzling funds and falsifying tax documents over the past two years.
Both companies have released statements denying any knowledge of the misconduct and are cooperating fully with investigators.
I scrolled down, reading frantically.
The scandal has already begun affecting both brands' stock prices, which dropped 8% in morning trading. Industry experts warn that if the allegations are proven true, both companies could face significant fines and reputational damage.
I felt sick.
My phone buzzed again. This time it was my father.
Dad: Come home. Now.
___
The house was chaos when I arrived.
Lawyers. Accountants. PR consultants. Everyone was talking over each other, phones ringing constantly, papers scattered across every surface.
My father sat at the head of the dining table, his face dark with fury. My mother stood beside him, her expression tight and controlled.
Mr. and Mrs. Wongchai were there too, looking equally stressed.
"This is a disaster,"
Mr. Wongchai was saying.
"Our entire reputation is on the line."
"We're working on it,"
one of the lawyers said quickly.
"We've already identified the employee responsible. He's been terminated, and we're gathering evidence to prove the companies had no knowledge of his actions."
"That's not enough,"
my father snapped.
"The media is already tearing us apart. We need damage control. Immediately."
I stood in the doorway, unnoticed, watching the chaos unfold.
Then my mother's eyes landed on me.
"Kamaya,"
she said coldly.
"Nice of you to finally show up."
Everyone turned to look at me.
"Sit down," my father ordered.
I did.
"This situation is already bad enough," he said. "The last thing we need is more negative attention. So I'm telling you now, keep your head down. No scandals. No drama. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir,"
I said quietly.
He studied me for a moment, then nodded curtly.
"Good. Now leave. The adults need to talk."
I stood up and walked out, feeling like a scolded child.
Liya was waiting for me outside.
She must have arrived with her parents. The moment she saw me, she stood up from where she'd been sitting on the front steps.
"Maya," she said softly. "Are you okay?"
I shook my head, my throat tight.
She didn't hesitate. She stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.
I collapsed against her, letting myself be held for the first time in what felt like forever.
"It's going to be okay," she murmured, stroking my hair. "We'll get through this."
I wanted to believe her.
___
For the next two weeks, Liya and I were inseparable. She became my refuge. My safe place.
When the news got overwhelming, when my parents' coldness became too much to bear, she was there.
We spent hours together. Talking. Laughing. Sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence.
Slowly, the walls I'd built up around myself started crumbling.
One evening, we were at my condo, sprawled on the couch watching some terrible rom-com Liya had insisted on.
"This is so unrealistic,"
I said, gesturing at the screen.
"No one falls in love that fast in real life."
Liya glanced at me, a small smile playing at her lips.
"I don't know. I think it's possible."
"You think people can fall in love at first sight?"
"Maybe not at first sight,"
she said thoughtfully.
"But... quickly. When you meet the right person, you just know."
There was something in the way she said it, something soft and soothing, it made my heart skip a bit.
I looked at her, and she looked back.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then her eyes dropped to my lips.
"Maya," she whispered.
"Mh?"
"Can I kiss you?"
My breath caught.
I should have said no. Should have reminded her we were taking things slow.
But I didn't.
Instead, I nodded.
She leaned in slowly, giving me time to change my mind.
I didn't.
Her lips met mine, soft and tentative at first. Then deeper. More certain.
This time, there was no panic. No hesitation. No interruption.
Just her.
Just me.
Just us.
When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing heavily.
"God I've missed you,"
she murmured against my lips.
"I've missed you soo freaking much."
"I've missed you too,"
I admitted.
She smiled, that beautiful, radiant smile I'd fallen in love with, and kissed me again. I didn't hold back. I kissed her, harder.
We were soo lost in the moment that we didn't realize someone was watching.
____
It was on a Saturday morning when the video dropped.
I woke up to my phone exploding with notifications.
Texts. Calls. Instagram tags.
I grabbed my phone, confused and still half-asleep.
Then I saw it.
The GossipGirls Gang had posted a video.
Not a photo this time. A full video.
Of me and Liya.
Kissing.
In my apartment.
The caption read: CONFIRMED: Kamaya Chantasiri and Naliya Wongchai caught kissing. 👀🌈 The tea has been SPILLED. #Kamiya #Kaliya #Maliya #SapphicScandal #LuxuryLove.
My blood ran cold.
The video was clear. High quality. There was no denying it was us.
Someone had filmed us.
I felt like I was going to be sick.
My phone rang. It was Liya.
"Maya,"
she said, her voice panicked.
"Did you see—"
"I saw it."
"Oh my god. Oh my god, Maya, I'm so sorry—"
"It's not your fault."
"My parents, they're going to—"
"I know."
We were both silent for a moment.
Then Liya said quietly,
"What do we do?"
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on me.
"I don't know," I whispered.
"I don't know."
_____
Within hours, the video had gone viral.
It was everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. TikTok. Even blogs had picked it up.
"—Heirs to Bangkok's Biggest Fashion Empires Caught in Secret Romance
Luxury Love Scandal: Kamaya Chantasiri and Naliya Wongchai's Secret Relationship Exposed."
My phone wouldn't stop ringing.
My father. My mother. Lawyers. PR people.
I turned it off.
I couldn't deal with it. Not yet.
I sat on my couch, staring at the wall, feeling like my entire world was collapsing around me.
There was a knock at the door.
I didn't move.
Another knock. More insistent this time.
"Maya,"
Liya's voice called from the other side.
"Please. Let me in."
I stood up slowly and opened the door.
She looked composed, her eyes red but dry, jaw clenched. The moment she saw me, her entire demeanor changed. She stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and pulled me into her arms.
"I'm so sorry,"she said firmly.
"This is all my fault. I should have been more careful."
I stood there stiffly, not knowing what to say.
She pulled back to look at me, her hands cupping my face.
"I should have protected you better," she continued.
"I wasn't thinking. I just wanted you so badly that I forgot to be careful."
Her voice cracked slightly.
"And now you're exposed. Your parents are going to be furious. I've put you in trouble, I'm sorry."
"You didn't film us Liya,"
I said quietly.
"But I'm the one that kissed you, and someone saw."
She brushed her thumbs against my cheeks.
"I was careless with you. With us."
She pulled me close again, holding me tightly.
"I'm not going to let them hurt you," she said into my hair. "Whatever comes next, we face it together. I won't let you go through this alone."
"I'm scared," I admitted.
"I know." She held me tighter. "But I'm here. I'm not running this time. I promise."
She guided me to the couch and sat down, pulling me into her arms.
"Let me handle the fallout," she said softly. "I'll talk to our parents. I'll deal with the PR people. You don't have to face any of it until you're ready."
"You can't do all that alone—"
"Yes, I can." Her voice was firm. "Let me take care of you. The way I should have from the beginning."
I searched her eyes, there was nothing but sincerity.
"Mm," I whispered.
She kissed my forehead.
"Thank you for trusting me. I won't let you down. Not this time."
_____
My phone buzzed.
I'd turned it back on, and messages were still pouring in.
But one caught my eye.
It was from Ploy.
Ploy: I saw the video. I hope you're okay.
I stared at the message, guilt washing over me.
I'd been so consumed with Liya that I'd completely forgotten Ploy.
And now she knew why.
I typed out a response, then deleted it.
What could I possibly say?
I'm sorry I ignored you?
I'm sorry I chose her?
I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to tell you the truth?
In the end, I just sent a "thank you."
She didn't respond.
That evening, Santa called.
"Maya," he said. "Are you okay?"
"Define okay," I replied tiredly.
"Fair point." He paused. "Listen, I just wanted to check in. I know things are... complicated right now."
"That's an understatement."
"I know." He was quiet for a moment.
"For what it's worth, I'm on your side. Whatever you need."
My throat tightened. "Thanks, Santa."
"Anytime, pumpkin."
Despite everything, I smiled.
I knew the storm was only just beginning.
But this time, I wasn't facing it alone.