Chapter 14

Nani Hirunkit

I stand outside the living room, gripping my sleeves so tightly my knuckles ache.

Inside, my parents are watching TV, the soft hum of voices filling the quiet house. It's late, but they always stay up a little longer, sitting together on the couch, basking in the silence.

They look so normal. So unchanged.

I wonder if they know.

If they can already see it in me—the weight pressing down on my shoulders, the exhaustion settling deep in my bones. If they know their son isn't the same person who left this house months ago.

I take a breath. Then another. But it doesn't help.

Because I can't breathe.

Not when I know that after tonight, after I open my mouth and tell them the truth, nothing will ever be the same again.

But I have to do this.

I have to.

I step inside, my parents turning their heads at the sound of my footsteps.

"Nani?" my mom asks, tilting her head.

I try to speak, but my throat closes up.

She frowns, sitting up straighter. "What is it?"

I force myself to hold my ground. "I need to tell you something."

My dad leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His face is unreadable, but his eyes are sharp—focused.

The air in the room shifts.

I look down at my hands. "I left because of Sky."

A pause.

My mom blinks. My dad doesn't react.

I swallow, my whole body tensing. "He kissed me."

My mom's lips part slightly, but she doesn't speak.

I clench my jaw, pushing through. "But he was drunk. And the next second, he told me it was a mistake."

The word—mistake—burns like acid on my tongue.

I force out a laugh, but it's hollow. "Funny, right?" I shake my head, staring at the floor. "All this time, I thought maybe—just maybe—he felt the same way. That I wasn't crazy for thinking we had something."

Silence.

I take a deep breath, my hands shaking. "I've had feelings for him for years. Before I even understood what it meant, before I even realized what I was feeling—I was already his. And I hate it. I hate that I can't stop."

My dad's fingers curl slightly where they rest on his knees.

My mom lets out a breath, her expression crumbling.

I look away, my chest caving in.

"I didn't tell you sooner because I was scared," I whisper.

My dad's voice is steady. "Scared of what?"

I exhale sharply, feeling my throat close up again.

"Of this." My voice breaks. "Of you looking at me differently. Of things changing. Of you not—"

The words get stuck.

Not accepting me.

Not wanting me.

Not loving me the same way.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, willing the tears to stay back.

My dad exhales through his nose, slow and measured. Then—

"Nani."

I flinch.

He doesn't say it harshly, doesn't raise his voice, but it lands heavy in my chest.

I force myself to lift my head.

My father is looking at me like he sees me—like he always has.

And that's what scares me the most.

Because if he truly sees me, then he knows everything.

He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Do you remember the first time we met?"

My brows pull together, my breathing uneven.

He doesn't wait for me to answer. "You were eight. You didn't want to look at me, didn't want to be in the same room as me." A small, wistful smile tugs at his lips. "You told your mother that I wasn't your father. That you didn't need another one."

My chest tightens.

"I understood," he continues, voice even. "I never wanted to take his place, Nani. I just wanted to be here. To be yours."

His eyes soften. "And after some time, you let me in. You let me be a part of your life. You let me be your father."

Something cracks inside me.

He exhales. "So how can I not accept you, when you already accepted me?"

A sharp, broken sound escapes my throat.

It takes me a second to realize—

I'm sobbing.

I bring a hand to my mouth, my body folding in on itself. My mother is up in an instant, wrapping me in her arms.

"Oh, Nani..." Her voice is thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry."

My father's hand settles on my back, warm and steady.

"We should have been there for you sooner," he murmurs.

I shake my head rapidly, my hands fisting into my mom's shirt.

It's too much.

It's too much.

Because after all this time—after all the nights I spent wondering if I'd ever truly belong anywhere—

I realize I already do.

-----------------

I stay up late that night, lying on my back in the dim glow of my childhood bedroom. The ceiling looks exactly the same as it always has, but I feel like a stranger here.

Telling my parents the truth should have made me feel free. In some ways, it did. Their acceptance, their unwavering support, their love—it filled a void I hadn't even realized was there. But there's another weight pressing down on me, one that won't lift no matter how much I try to push it away.

The years of hiding. The quiet suffering. The way I let myself believe, even for a second, that Sky's kiss had meant something more.

The way he called it a mistake.

I turn my head, staring at the faint glow of my phone screen on the nightstand. It's been vibrating on and off for hours now, buzzing with messages I can't bring myself to open.

My fingers twitch, hovering over the screen. There are dozens of unread messages from our group chat, from Dew and Win, from Joong, from Aou, from Boom.

And from Sky.

I squeeze my eyes shut, letting out a slow breath.

I'm not ready.

I lock my phone without reading a single one.

The next morning, the scent of my favorite breakfast fills the house. My mother hums softly as she sets the food on the table, acting like everything is normal. My father joins us with a pat on my shoulder, like nothing has changed.

Because to them, nothing has.

But I feel it. I feel it in the way my chest feels cracked open, in the way the air tastes different, in the way I don't have to pretend anymore. I feel it in the raw, aching part of me that no longer has to hide.

And yet, I still feel so incredibly lost.

Later, I grab my keys and leave the house, driving aimlessly through town. The streets I grew up on blur past me, memories flashing in the corners of my vision. The convenience store where I used to spend my allowance on snacks. The bridge where I sat for hours, thinking about my future. The small park where I used to run to when I needed to be alone.

I pull into the empty parking lot, stepping out of the car without thinking.

The swings creak as I sit down, the chains rattling slightly under my weight.

The sky is overcast, a dull gray stretching endlessly above me.

I wonder if Sky is thinking about me.

I wonder if he even cares.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

I don't check it at first, but something makes my chest tighten—like an invisible force pulling me toward it. Slowly, I pull it out and glance at the screen.

A message.

From an unknown number.

I frown, unlocking my phone.

The message is short.

"Nani. Pick up the phone."

My breath catches.

Because I know exactly who it is.

Sky.