While Yeh worked during weekday, Lin spent her days in a café near the apartment, writing or simply watching the world pass by by the window. Unstructured time felt like a gentle, deliberate slowing of pace, as if she had stepped into a softer, sweeter way of living.
Every evening she returned early, waiting for Yeh. The sound of the key turning in the lock became the clearest, brightest moment of her day. Yeh would step in, removing shoes, and Lin would look up from the sofa, as if she had always belonged there. They ordered food or cooked, sharing small, ordinary stories—the most natural, comfortable rhythm Lin had ever known.
On Saturday morning, Yeh woke later than usual. Lin sat by the window as she walked into the living room.
"Let's go out today," Yeh said naturally.
Lin looked at her, one eyebrow lifting playfully. "Out… on a date?"
Yeh paused, caught slightly off guard, then nodded. "Yes."
Lin smiled, asking nothing further. The air felt light, charged with sweet, unspoken possibility.
Then Yeh's phone rang.
Jenny's name lit up the screen. Lin's expression tightened, almost imperceptibly.
Yeh answered freely. "I'm afraid I can't today—I'm going out with a friend."
Lin leaned casually against the wall, asking lightly, "Who calls on a weekend?"
Actually Lin already knew perfectly well.
"Jenny. Inviting me out." Yeh set the phone aside.
"She seems very fond of you," Lin said, her gaze resting steadily upon Yeh.
"She is a business partner and friend." Yeh paused, meeting her eyes. "Being with you matters more."
She reached for Lin's hand. "Come on."
Her grasp was easy, yet she showed no sign of letting go.
They visited the Bangkok Art and Culture Centre. As they drew near, the city fell quiet, as if entering another world. Water stilled in the entrance pool, a single lotus bud rising from its surface, reflection trembling gently in sunlight. Within, tall ceilings and patterned skylights cast light in soft geometric shapes across the floor. They walked slowly, side by side, pausing before each piece.
They stopped together before a large canvas—a vast expanse of sky, deep blue fading through teal into soft orange and blush, as if sunset itself had been captured in a single moment. Bold yet gentle, the colours held quiet, immense power.
Lin stepped closer, Yeh alongside her. As Lin gestured toward a detail, their fingers brushed, light and accidental. Neither pulled away and neither spoke.
That silence said more than words ever could.
Lin spoke first, her voice was low. "I have not visited an art gallery in years… and never with anyone."
Yeh continued gazing at the painting. "I have always come alone."
Lin turned to her. "From now on, you have company."
Lunch followed at the museum café, quiet and uncrowded.
Lin looked across the table. "Earlier you said you were going out.with a friend."
She paused, holding Yeh's gaze. "Am I… only a friend?"
Softly spoken, yet direct.
Yeh hesitated. "Then what would you say we are?" she asked gently, turning the question back.
Lin smiled. "You become clever." She sipped her coffee, unable to suppress her smile.
Yeh saw it, and said nothing.
Later they wandered through the old district, streets worn yet vibrant, shops mixed together, life unfolding at a relaxed pace. They walked slowly, photographing one another, stopping wherever something caught their eyes.
Following the riverbank, the breeze grew cool.
"Where are we going?" Lin asked.
Yeh smiled mysteriously. "You'll see."
She led her to a rooftop along the river. As the lift doors opened, Lin stepped out and saw rows of seats facing a large screen beneath the open sky.
"An outdoor cinema?"
Yeh nodded.
Lin laughed softly. "You plan everything perfectly."
"I thought you would enjoy it."
Yeh knew her well.
The film began—I Can't Think Straight. Lin blinked in surprise, never having expected Yeh to choose this story.
Evening light spilled golden across the river. A gentle wind carried the water's scent. They sat close, shoulders nearly touching.
On screen, two women fell irresistibly in love despite every obstacle, drawn together by a force they could not name and could not resist. When they embraced and kissed, Yeh looked away instinctively, then quickly looked back. She had known such stories before—yet sitting beside Lin, everything felt entirely new. As the characters drew together, Yeh felt her own breath catch. Nothing had happened between them, yet she felt herself blushing.
Later, as Tala pulled away out of fear, Lin whispered into the dark:
"If you were her… what would you do?"
Yeh paused, remembering her answer once before: that she would not risk her life normal life dor uncertainty. But things had changed. She turned to Lin, speaking clearly and without hesitation:
"If I were her… I would never let the one I love go. Not for anything."
Lin said nothing, yet her eyes shone brightly in the flickering light.
When the film ended, the audience dispersed slowly. They lingered on the rooftop, then walked down to the riverbank as true night settled in. Lights stretched long across the dark water.
Yeh spoke quietly. "You have made so many stories for your account… is there any story you have always wanted to tell, but never have?"
Lin slowed her steps.
"Yes," she said. "And I have never talked to anyone."
She paused, as if gathering language.
"…But I would like to tell you."
Yeh waited, silently and steadily.
Lin gazed out across the water, her voice was soft.
"It was my first job after guaduation … I was working at a music company. There was someone."
Lin did not say lover.
"She was a producer. A few years older than me. I was still an intern."
Her tone remained even, yet the picture formed clearly.
"She was kind, and taught me so much. We were together every day—working, travelling, everywhere."
She fell quiet.
"And then?" Yeh asked gently.
Lin lowered her head, a faint, sad smile touching her lips.
"And then… we went our separate ways."
She offered no further explanation. Yet that pause spoke more than any detail ever could. Her voice became tightened, almost imperceptibly.
Yeh asked nothing more. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms gently around Lin.
"It is alright," she whispered. "Tell me whenever you are ready."
Lin leaned into the embrace, and stayed there.