About an hour later, everyone was finally dressed.
Or at least as dressed as they could be after discovering that Slovenian weather was very different from Thai weather.
Malai was wearing one of the jackets Suraphom had bought.
Taeng had wrapped a scarf around his neck despite the fact that it wasn't actually that cold.
Chai complained the entire time.
And Anamarija looked happier than any of us.
The moment we stepped outside the apartment building, she practically transformed into a tour guide.
"Okay!"
Everyone immediately looked at her.
"This way."
"That sounds dangerous," Kit said.
"Trust me."
"That's exactly what dangerous people say."
Ignoring him completely, Anamarija led us through the streets of Ljubljana.
The city felt completely different from Bangkok.
There was no constant rush.
No endless noise.
No towering skyscrapers blocking the sky.
Instead, there were colorful buildings, quiet streets, cafés, bridges, and trees everywhere.
And everywhere we looked, there was something beautiful.
"That's the castle," Anamarija explained enthusiastically for what was probably the tenth time.
"We can literally see it," Chai pointed out.
"I know."
"Then why are you explaining it?"
"Because I'm excited."
Nobody could argue with that.
As we walked through the old town, Anamarija continued pointing things out.
Historical buildings.
Small streets.
Interesting stories.
Favorite cafés.
Places she used to visit.
And somehow her excitement became contagious.
Even the people who normally pretended not to care were paying attention.
"This place is beautiful," Torn admitted.
"I told you."
"You undersold it."
That made Anamarija grin proudly.
Meanwhile, Taeng had become a one-man photography department.
Every few minutes he stopped.
Click.
A bridge.
Click.
A street.
Click.
A building.
Click.
Anamarija.
Click.
A pigeon.
"Why are you photographing pigeons?" Kit asked.
"Art."
"That's a bird."
"Art."
Nobody bothered arguing.
As we crossed one of the bridges over the river, I found myself slowing down slightly.
The water reflected the sunlight beautifully.
People sat at outdoor cafés.
The atmosphere felt peaceful.
Then suddenly, a warm hand slipped into mine.
I looked down.
Chak.
For a second, I froze.
Then I looked up at him.
His expression remained calm.
Natural.
Like there was nothing unusual about it.
But for me...
My heart didn't start racing. Instead, it felt strangely calm, as if he had been holding my hand every day for years.
A faint blush spread across my face before I could stop it.
The shy smile that appeared was impossible to hide.
"Chak..."
"Hm?"
I glanced at our joined hands.
Then back at him.
"This is the first time you've held my hand in public."
For a moment, he simply looked at me.
The noise of the city seemed to fade away.
The people around us.
The tourists.
The conversations.
Everything.
Then a small smile appeared on his face.
A genuine one.
"Here?"
He squeezed my hand gently.
"I'll do it every day."
Chak's gaze softened.
"Because here, I'm not afraid to show who I love."
For a second, I couldn't find any words.
The sincerity in his voice caught me completely off guard.
There was no hesitation.
No fear.
No concern about cameras or gossip.
Just honesty.
Just us.
Which only made Chak smile more.
"You're blushing."
"No, I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"You absolutely are."
That only made it worse.
Behind us, Chai suddenly noticed.
"Oh my God."
Immediately everyone looked over.
"No," I said instantly.
"Yes," Chai replied.
Taeng turned around, saw our joined hands, and immediately took a picture.
"TAENG."
"What?"
"Delete that."
"No."
"TAENG."
"It's cute."
"This is gonna be my wedding gift for you two."
Anamarija looked at us and smiled.
A soft smile.
The kind that came from seeing people she cared about happy.
Then she clapped her hands once.
"Okay."
Everyone groaned.
"No."
"Yes."
"We just stopped walking."
"I still have twenty places to show you."
The collective suffering was immediate.
But despite all the complaints, everyone followed her anyway.
And as we continued through the streets of Ljubljana, with Anamarija enthusiastically telling stories, Taeng taking hundreds of photos, and the city glowing beneath the afternoon sun, I realized something.
This wasn't just a trip.
It was becoming one of the happiest memories of my life.
Before I even saw the square, I noticed Anamarija walking a little faster.
Not enough for anyone else to mention it.
Just enough for me to notice.
She looked... excited.
Like she had been waiting for this part of the day.
A few moments later, we stepped out of the narrow streets of the Old Town, and the view opened in front of us.
Prešeren Square.
The pink Franciscan Church.
The Ljubljanica River.
People crossing the famous Triple Bridge.
Street musicians filling the air with music.
And in the middle of it all stood the statue of France Prešeren.
I had already fallen in love with Ljubljana.
But this place felt different.
It wasn't just beautiful.
It felt alive.
"And..." Anamarija said, turning toward us with a huge smile.
"Welcome to Prešeren Square."
Everyone slowly looked around.
"It's beautiful," Malai said quietly.
"It really is," I found myself saying.
Anamarija smiled proudly.
"This square is named after France Prešeren, Slovenia's greatest poet."
My eyes drifted toward the bronze statue.
Something about it caught my attention immediately.
He wasn't looking straight ahead.
His gaze was fixed somewhere else.
Almost as if he were searching for someone.
Chai noticed it too.
"So... he's basically your national poet?"
"Exactly."
She nodded enthusiastically.
"He's considered the father of Slovenian poetry. He helped shape the Slovenian language through his writing, and one of his poems became Slovenia's national anthem."
I blinked.
"Wait," Chai interrupted before I could ask.
"Your national anthem... is a poem?"
"Part of one," Anamarija corrected with a smile.
"The poem is called A Toast. It's much longer, but the seventh stanza became our national anthem."
"Why that one?"
"Because it talks about peace, friendship, freedom, and people living together instead of fighting each other."
I looked around the square again.
Tourists.
Families.
Children chasing pigeons.
Friends sitting by the river.
For some reason...
Those words matched the atmosphere perfectly.
Peace.
Friendship.
Hope.
It didn't feel like history anymore.
It felt present.
Anamarija pointed toward the statue again.
"Do you see where he's looking?"
We all followed her finger.
Across the square, on the facade of another building, stood a small sculpture of a woman.
"Her name was Julija Primic."
Anamarija's voice softened.
"Prešeren fell deeply in love with her."
Chai sighed dramatically.
"Please don't tell me she married someone else.
"She did."
"I knew it."
Everyone laughed.
"She came from a wealthy family," Anamarija continued. "They were never together, but she inspired many of his greatest poems."
I looked back at the statue.
Suddenly it wasn't just a monument anymore.
It wasn't simply a famous man cast in bronze.
It was someone who had loved.
Someone who had lost.
Someone who had turned heartbreak into something that people were still reading two hundred years later.
"Many people believe that's why the statue is facing toward Julija," Anamarija said. "As if he's still looking at the woman who inspired him."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Chai broke the silence.
"So... Slovenia's greatest poet became immortal because of heartbreak."
Anamarija smiled gently.
"Not because of heartbreak."
She looked at the statue.
"But he turned heartbreak into beautiful poetry."
Those words stayed with me.
She wasn't reciting facts.
She wasn't giving us a history lesson.
She was telling the story like it mattered.
Like Prešeren wasn't just someone in a textbook.
Like he was someone she genuinely admired.
Maybe that was why everyone was listening so carefully.
Even Chai.
He raised his hand slightly.
"Can I ask something?"
"Of course."
"If he knew she didn't love him..."
He hesitated.
"...why didn't he just move on?"
The question hung in the air.
Anamarija was quiet for a few seconds.
Then she smiled softly.
"Because feelings aren't something you can simply choose to stop."
Silence.
No jokes.
No teasing.
Just understanding.
For some reason...
That answer felt like it wasn't only about France Prešeren.
"Now, since we're standing by the river..."
Everyone already knew what that meant.
"Story time?" Taeng guessed.
"Story time."
She pointed toward the calm water below.
"Have any of you ever heard of the Water Man?"
Everyone shook their heads.
"In Slovenian, he's called the Povodni mož."
Chai folded his arms.
"This already sounds suspicious."
Anamarija grinned.
"Long ago, there was a beautiful girl named Urška. She loved dancing and admired the attention she received from every man in Ljubljana."
"So far, normal," Chai commented.
"One evening, a mysterious gentleman asked her to dance."
"Oh no," Kit sighed.
"Oh yes."
"They danced and danced until everyone else disappeared."
Anamarija lowered her voice slightly.
"Then the mysterious man led her closer to the river..."
Everyone listened carefully.
"...and suddenly he revealed his true identity."
"The Water Man."
She nodded.
"He pulled Urška into the Ljubljanica River, and neither of them was ever seen again."
A few seconds of silence followed.
Taeng blinked.
"That's terrifying."
"It's supposed to be."
"So what's the moral?" Malai asked.
Anamarija smiled.
"Different versions say different things. Some say it's about vanity. Others say you should be careful who you trust."
Chai slowly nodded.
"I officially don't want to dance near rivers anymore."
Everyone laughed.
Wec continued walking through the old town until another famous landmark appeared in front of us.
Four enormous green dragons guarded the bridge.
Taeng's eyes widened.
"Oh."
Without another word—
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
He circled the bridge from every angle.
He crouched.
He stood on a bench.
He zoomed in on every dragon.
"This is magnificent," he whispered dramatically.
Kit sighed.
"We've lost him."
"I'm making memories."
"You're making your camera suffer."
Ignoring everyone, Taeng took another dozen photos.
Anamarija watched him with an amused smile.
"This is Dragon Bridge."
"Obviously," Chai said, looking at the dragons.
"But why dragons?"
Anamarija rested her hands on the stone railing.
"According to one of Ljubljana's most famous legends, the Greek hero Jason came here with the Argonauts after stealing the Golden Fleece."
Several pairs of eyes widened.
"The Jason?"
"The very one."
"They supposedly encountered a terrible dragon living in the marshes near what is now Ljubljana."
She pointed at one of the dragon statues.
"Jason defeated the dragon, and over time it became the symbol of the city."
Taeng immediately photographed another dragon.
"I love this city."
Anamarija laughed.
"There's another legend too."
"Oh?" Chai asked.
"They say that whenever a true virgin crosses Dragon Bridge..."
She paused dramatically.
"the dragons wag their tails."
Silence.
Then Chai looked around at the dragon statues.
"They're not moving."
Kit burst out laughing.
"I'm not touching that joke."
"I'm definitely not touching that joke," Torn added.
Even Chak chuckled quietly.
Malai shook her head, laughing.
"You really know so many stories."
Chak looked at Anamarija with genuine curiosity.
"Actually..."
She looked at him.
"How do you know all of this?"
Anamarija smiled.
"My mom is a tourist guide."
Everyone looked surprised.
"When I was little, I came with her to Ljubljana a lot. I listened to her tours so many times that eventually I remembered almost everything."
"That explains it," Chai said.
Malai tilted her head.
"So... you don't actually live in Ljubljana?"
Anamarija shook her head.
"No."
"I live in Maribor."
"The second largest city in Slovenia."
"Ohhh," Malai nodded.
"That makes sense."