Chapter 3

Jes wanted to walk away, but Ngern insisted on making amends. Despite Jes's skepticism, Ngern pulled out his phone. "Give me your number," he said firmly. "Once I find a replacement, I'll call you."

Jes hesitated before reciting his number, arms crossed. He didn't believe Ngern would actually follow through. Celebrities had busy lives, and to someone like Ngern, fixing a stranger's camera was probably a fleeting obligation. Still, he took the number, saving it under 'Jes - Camera Guy.'

Jes sighed. "You won't find the same model."

Ngern met his gaze, unwavering. "Watch me."

As Jes turned to leave, he didn't expect to hear from him again. But fate had other plans.

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Ngern wasn't the type to break a promise—especially not one that came with a pair of disbelieving eyes staring him down like he was bound to fail. So, the moment he had a sliver of free time between shoots and interviews, he found himself scouring stores for Jes's camera.

Jes had said it wouldn't be easy to find, and he hadn't been lying.

The first store Ngern visited didn't even stock film cameras anymore. The second had a few, but none matched the one he had broken. By the time he reached the third shop, an older man behind the counter took one look at the picture Ngern pulled up on his phone and let out a low whistle.

"This is a rare one," the shopkeeper said, adjusting his glasses. "You won't find it in a regular store. Maybe a collector's market... but even then, it won't be cheap."

Ngern nodded, unfazed. "Point me in the right direction."

The shopkeeper gave him an address, warning him that it was a niche collector's shop with unpredictable stock. Ngern didn't care. He had time—and he had a stubborn streak.

Hours later, he stood in front of a tucked-away shop that smelled of aged paper and nostalgia. The owner, a meticulous man with a sharp gaze, examined the photo before nodding slightly. "I might have something similar in the back."

Ngern's heart kicked up. He wasn't sure why he was going this far for a guy who barely tolerated him. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was pride. Or maybe—just maybe—he liked the idea of proving Jes wrong.

As he waited, he pulled out his phone, staring at Jes's contact. He hesitated for a moment before typing:

Ngern: I'm working on it. Don't think I forgot.

A part of him wondered if Jes would even reply.

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Jes stared at his phone screen, lips pressing into a flat line as he read the message.

Ngern: I'm working on it. Don't think I forgot.

He hadn't been expecting a follow-up, much less this soon. A dry scoff left his lips as he locked his phone and tossed it onto his desk. He wasn't about to hold his breath.

Ngern was an actor. A smooth talker. He probably just wanted to ease his own guilt, send a couple of messages, and then move on. Jes had seen it before—people who said things just to sound good in the moment, with no real intention of following through.

He reached for his backup camera and tried to shake the thought from his head.

Meanwhile, Ngern tapped his fingers against the glass counter, waiting as the shop owner rummaged through shelves in the back. After what felt like forever, the man returned with a worn leather case, setting it down gently.

"I don't have the exact model, but this is from the same era. Similar build, same mechanics."

Ngern carefully picked it up, running his fingers along the smooth metal casing. It looked well-maintained, despite its age.

"How much?" he asked without hesitation.

The shop owner chuckled. "You sure you don't want to think about it first? It's not cheap."

Ngern smiled, pulling out his wallet. "I don't need to think."

Jes was in the middle of editing a batch of photos when his phone buzzed again. He ignored it at first, but after the third notification, he exhaled sharply and checked.

Ngern: Got something. Meet me tomorrow?

Ngern: I promise it's not a waste of time.

Ngern: Unless you're scared I actually pulled it off.

Jes snorted. The audacity.

He hovered over the keyboard before typing back:

Jes: Fine. 2 PM. Café by the park.

He hit send and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

Why did it feel like Ngern had just won something?