Chapter Text
It was not the first time Thanawat found himself pacing outside a hospital room.
The day Maya Suwannarat was born, Thanawat Suwannarat could swear the ground beneath his feet lurched, the world shifted on its axis, and he hurtled himself headfirst into a wall the first time felt the little girl wrap her tiny fingers around his thumb, blinked slowly and opened her eyes.
A tiny, crying bundle, she had arrived with a force that contradicted her size. As the nurse slowly placed her on his inviting arms, a warmth spread through him, a warmth that he was very familiar with, having held his three children after their birth, of course, feeling their tiny weight settle into him with a sense of complete, fragile trust.
But this was completely new, like recognizing a song you hadn’t heard in years, yet finding yourself instinctively humming along. He held her closer, letting that unfamiliar familiarity seep in, realizing that it wasn’t just a body he was holding, it was a piece of himself he didn’t know he’d been missing. It was in the moment following, when he looked at his wife caressing their firstborn to give him all the support he needed and his daughter-in-law in her hospital gown, with hair so frizzy that it stuck to her forehead with the sweat, looking like she was ready to pass out from the exhaustion of having to push an actual human out of her, that he gazed down at his granddaughter and decided to build her a world.
He'd always dreamed of creating something lasting, something that would outlive him. And so, with the unwavering determination of a man who had seen his fair share of hardship, he established Maya Entertainment. It began small, a modest office in a run-down Bangkok district. But Thanawat had a vision, a grand vision of a company that would not only entertain but also inspire.
He poured his heart and soul into Maya Entertainment. He scoured the country for talent, seeking out young people with raw potential. He nurtured them, guided them, and believed in them, even when they doubted themselves. And gradually, with one step at a time, slowly but surely, Maya Entertainment began to grow.
First, it was a small theater company, putting on plays and musicals. Then, it branched out into film production, creating provocative dramas and heartwarming comedies. And as its reputation soared, so did the number of individuals who wanted to be a part of it. Maya Entertainment became a powerhouse, a place where dreams were realized, and careers were launched. The actors and actresses who signed with the company went on to become household names, their faces gracing billboards and television screens across the nation.
And at the heart of it all was a single, unexpected beginning—a tiny, scrappy baby girl named Maya. She hadn’t come from any special place; she was just a kid with wide eyes and a laugh that could light up the room. Maya grew up immersed in the magic of cinema. From the time she could remember, she was captivated by the way a story could transport you somewhere else entirely. A single film could bring you to laughter, tears, and everything in between, and Maya felt that pull in her heart every time she watched the screen flicker to life.
Thanawat saw that spark in her early on. He encouraged her, fueled her dreams, and always reminded her that storytelling was something worth fighting for. With his support, Maya left home to study at a renowned film and television school in the US. The distance was hard, but it only strengthened her determination, pushing her to dig deeper into what it took to tell a story that resonated with people. She soaked up every class, every workshop, and every late-night conversation with other students who shared that same passion, fueled by more coffee than her body could handle and her desire to make her mark in the world.
When she returned to Bangkok, she joined the family company with fresh eyes and bold ideas, brimming with a purpose. She wanted to push the company beyond its comfort zone, to reach people in ways they hadn’t imagined before. Under her leadership, the company evolved. They began to embrace new technologies, to explore the latest techniques, and to take risks with stories that dug deeper, sometimes challenging the audience. The company was changing into something that reflected Maya’s vision - a place where stories weren’t just told; they were lived, felt, and remembered.
But Maya wasn’t the type to just sit behind a desk and keep things running. She wanted to tell her own stories, to take all those dreams and ideas that had been brewing inside her and turn them into something real. So she threw herself into filmmaking, staying up late to write scripts and storyboards, pushing through long days on set, and agonizing over every shot, every line, every look. It wasn’t just work to her - it was her heart on the screen.
And the public agreed, her films were unlike anything people had seen. They were very personal, capturing emotions and moments that stayed with you long after the credits rolled. Maya had a way of finding the beauty and pain in ordinary things, and audiences felt that. They laughed, they cried, they saw themselves in her characters. Her work echoed with so many people that soon enough her name became synonymous with stories that dared to be honest and raw. Critics praised her for her originality, for the way she seemed to breathe life into every frame, and audiences followed her work with the kind of loyalty reserved for only the most beloved filmmakers.
With every new project, Maya brought more attention to Maya Entertainment, drawing in awards, new opportunities, and a sense of pride that felt like a dream. Young filmmakers began to look up to her, to see in her the proof that there was a place for real stories, that they didn’t have to play it safe or follow the rules to make something meaningful. Maya had become a role model, and without even meaning to, she’d inspired a new generation of storytellers who wanted to bring their own worlds to life.
And through it all, Maya kept her grandfather’s legacy close. He’d given her the foundation, the belief that stories mattered, and she carried that with her into everything she did. In her films, in her passion, and in the way she lifted others, she honored him. And maybe that was the greatest story she’d ever tell - one where his legacy lived on, not just through her, but through everyone she touched along the way.
So, when Freen received the email from Maya Entertainment, she had to read it three times just to believe it. After so many years of hoping, working, and pushing herself, she’d finally, sort of, made it. She’d grown up in a quiet town, where the days were simple, marked by the sounds of nature and the rhythm of the seasons passing by. Life there was peaceful, but for as long as she could remember, Freen had felt this tug toward something beyond the hills and fields, a dream she kept close to her heart. She wanted to act, to step into stories and bring characters to life, to move people the way her favorite films had moved her.
Getting to that point had been anything but easy. Freen had traveled to the city alone, taking odd jobs to make ends meet while she chased her goals. Every audition felt like a chance and also a test, her nerves full of fear as well as excitement as she poured her heart into every line. For each “Thank you for coming” that cut her dream short, she’d come home with a bit more self-doubt, but also a stronger resolve. She’d face rejection, take a deep breath, and go back the next day. It hurt, but giving up had never been an option.
Now, the email had changed everything. Getting accepted into Maya Entertainment’s talent development program was more than just a milestone, it was proof that her sacrifices had been worth it, that her faith in herself wasn’t misplaced. Signing that contract had felt surreal, almost like an out-of-body experience, looking at how the o was perfectly looped around the r and the c. Dragging the last a of her last name out as she looped it back to form an underline, she was grateful for everyone who had believed in her and she’d promised herself she’d make them proud. Make herself proud.
But Freen knew this was just the beginning. There was so much to learn, and she was determined to give it her all. She was ready to show everything she could offer, ready to soak up every lesson, every opportunity. For the first time, she felt her dreams close, within reach - not just as distant hopes, but as something real, something she could step into. Thinking about what lay ahead, she felt the adrenaline pumping through her body. This was her shot, and she was ready.
-
Freen could have sworn she was hearing her heart race for the first time.
Every beat was echoing in her chest like a drum along with the sudden drop in her stomach and the tingling sensation coursing through her spine right to her heart. She blamed it on the giant wheel, on the way their pod swayed slightly against the wind as it climbed higher over the carnival.
It was definitely not the girl beside her. The one that was pressed so close, their arms were practically glued together in the cramped space, and every brush of their skin sent a shiver up Freen’s rigid spine. She could feel a light sheen of sweat forming where they touched, her skin prickling with the sensation and despite the cool night air, warmth crept up her neck.
She tried to focus on something else, anything else - but her gaze kept drifting back to the girl’s face. Not that it was easy to look away - she was like a ray of sunshine come to life. Her high cheekbones, perfectly highlighted by the colorful lights that blinked around them, made every glimpse feel like a slow-motion moment from a movie. Freen felt her breath catch as her eyes landed on that dimple, that tiny dip in her skin that came to life with every shy smile or quiet laugh. It was such a small thing, just a soft curve at the corner of her lips, but it seemed to pull Freen in like as if she was earth’s gravity and Freen just a mere mortal walking the surface..
That damn dimple.
It was ridiculous, but Freen felt like she could lose herself in that little dip, like she’d happily sink into its deepest crevice and somehow still come out feeling lighter than air. She tried to tell herself it was nothing special - lots of people had them. But she’d never admit to the hours she’d spent researching why they exist, or why this one in particular seemed to undo her completely. It was all but a little crease in her smooth skin, but every time the girl laughed or smiled, it deepened, and Freen’s legs would go weak, her mouth would go dry, and her mind would spin, heart racing like it was the first time. It was such a small thing, yet it was enough to completely unravel her and made her wonder how she’d gone so long without noticing how incredible someone’s smile could be.
Becky had practically dragged Freen to the carnival. Her smile had been so broad it seemed she was almost vibrating with happiness, the excitement so contagious that Freen hadn’t put up much of a fight. How could she? After she’d tilted her head a little to the side, jutted her perfectly pink lips a little to form a small pout and asked her in that sweet voice that practically dripped honey.
Becky had just moved to Thailand, leaving her family behind in England, after getting a similar email telling her she’d been accepted into the same talent development team just like Freen had. She’d never met anyone quite like Becky - someone who was the complete opposite of her as a person but also someone she connected with so well, so quickly that it was almost instinctual, like they were meant to find each other in the chaos of their lives. Becky could ask her for anything, and Freen would have a hard time saying no. It was just that simple.
Lately, their schedules had been packed. Both were pouring everything into their upcoming debut films, days full of rehearsals, meetings, and late-night script work. Free time was very few and far in between, and each passing day pulled them in different directions as they chased their dreams. Moments like this, when it was just the two of them in the middle of flashing lights and laughter, felt almost precious - like they’d carved out their own little world amidst all the hustle and noise.
So, when Becky insisted on a night at the carnival, Freen didn’t just say yes - she welcomed it. For a few hours, they could be themselves, forget about everything else, and just enjoy the wild spins of the rides, taste the sticky sweetness of cotton candy and breathe in the air filled with children's laughter and the warmth of couples on dates. Most of all, they could savor each other’s company, knowing well that soon enough, life would put them in different pathways. Two parallel lines, moving towards the same goal yet, apart.
Just a little, but unavoidably so.
That night was exactly what they both needed - a reminder that no matter how hectic things got, there would always be a night at the carnival, a quiet movie theatre, a little stroll through the park. These were the memories they’d carry with them long after the lights faded, and life pulled them back into the whirlwind. They were reminders that even amid the busiest days, their hearts always had space for these precious pauses, little pockets of joy that gave meaning to everything they were working toward. And while the journey was undoubtedly tough, these small respites felt like the first breath of salty sea air on a long-awaited vacation, hearts warming like the sunlit sand beneath their feet, reminding them why they had started in the first place.
With their stomachs full of way too many nachos, tornado potato chips, and enough cotton candy to give them a sugar high, Freen gently steered a sleepy Becky back towards her car. Becky’s hand rested softly against the small of Freen’s back, just a light, tired touch and she had to fight the urge to shift her own hand just a little, to slide her fingers into Becky’s, to create their own unique knot, like fingerprints. She could almost imagine it - something found nowhere else but in the small space where their fingertips met. Their fingers adjusted so each could slip effortlessly between the other, palms shifting to find it’s perfect partner. Yin and yang.
Promises to meet again on Monday at work were lost beneath a chorus of heavy yawns and drooping eyelids. Freen couldn’t help but smile like an absolute fool, her heart warm as she waved goodbye to Becky from the open window of her car. It was a silly, contented smile, one of those moments when she felt like she was floating just a little bit off the ground.
She plugged her phone into the car, and as the latest pop song filled the air, something about beautiful things, Freen found herself swaying with the rhythm, her thoughts drifting back to just one particular person. That smile, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. It made Freen’s heart do something funny, a flutter she hadn’t expected. Her stomach was so full of butterflies, they were making their way to her heart.
-
“The things we love the most, hurt us the most.”
Freen had heard those ten words a thousand times, reshaped and rephrased in a thousand different ways. That was exactly what the love guru on the radio was hinting at to a caller whose static-filled voice crackled through, likely struggling with the signal in the rain. People seemed to find such truth in them, letting the words settle into their minds and seep into their hearts like a quiet warning.
But for her, they never quite rang true. It wasn’t that she dismissed what people meant when they said it; she understood that any form of love could be as sharp as it was sweet. But those words always felt incomplete to her, like they only skimmed the surface of something much deeper, much messier.
For her, love was more than just a precarious balance of joy and pain. She saw it as a story, one full of chapters that weren’t always predictable or easy, but meaningful in ways that simple phrases couldn’t quite capture. Those ten words could never convey the full story and Freen was nothing if not a storyteller.
Lost in thought, Freen stepped out of her car and into the humid, earthy scent of monsoon rain. Monday mornings were tough enough, but the downpour added a heaviness to the air, bringing with it the smell of damp soil and that unmistakable wet-shoe odour that clung to the entryway of her office building. She made her way across the lobby, dodging puddles, and found her way to the elevator, hitting the button for the ninth floor.
Maya Entertainment’s offices spanned the floors of a sleek, newly inaugurated building, the latest project by a young Thai architect making her waves in the industry. The design was modern yet succinctly Thai in its aesthetic, merging clean lines with hints of traditional motifs. On the ground level, a spacious atrium opened up to the public, where a large reception area welcomed visitors with high ceilings, natural light streaming in from all angles, and an elegant centerpiece. Access to the rest of the building was secured, with elevators and workspaces beyond the atrium reserved for employees only, who swiped in with personalized ID cards.
The first few floors held the corporate offices and meeting rooms, where the administration and strategic planning took place. It was a quiet zone where executives and planners brought ideas to life. From the sixth floor, the vibe shifted entirely, giving way to the creative spaces where Maya’s talents could thrive. These floors were a world of its own, with sprawling stage studios, streaming rooms, recording booths, dance studios, and rehearsal spaces equipped with top-tier tech and acoustics, ready for anything from film shoots to live-streamed events. It was kind of like the soul of the building, designed for the energy and inspiration that fueled Maya Entertainment.
Rising above, the twelfth floor held the cafeteria; an open space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, offering a mix of local and international dishes for employees to enjoy. Right above that was the gym, a place for staff to recharge or de-stress, decked out with state-of-the-art equipment and a calming view of the skyline. Finally, the top floors, reserved for the executives, boasted sleek, modern offices that combined luxury with functionality, complete with private meeting rooms and lounges. These penthouse floors were where Maya Entertainment’s vision was shaped at the highest level, the space mirroring the ambition that ran through the entire building, from the ground floor to the very top.
As Freen stepped out of the elevator, the familiar warmth of coffee greeted her from the break room just a few doors down. The smell was a small but welcome comfort, one she’d come to look forward to just as the steady hum of her coworkers’ morning chatter.
By now, Freen knew the routine here well enough. It wouldn’t be long before someone sprinted past, a paper cup in hand, likely late for a meeting. Knowing she’d probably see that exact scene play out, brought an easy smile to her face. It was what made the office feel so human, so alive - something more than just a place she clocked in each day, but a space that had its own quirks and character. She knew where the carpet had worn down by the door from being rubbed raw over countless comings and goings, the spot fraying just a bit more each week. There was that persistent coffee stain on the lounge sofa, a patch that the cleaning lady attacked with a steam vacuum every so often, but never quite managed to make disappear. And somehow, all these flaws had a charm to them, like the space had collected memories and laughter and a few spills along the way.
Humming a song she probably heard on the radio on her way over, she settled into her usual morning routine and made her way to the studio. This was the spot marked out for all the fresh faces from the talent development program, the ones who’d started around the same time as she and Becky had. She knew exactly what to expect when she walked in - familiar voices filling the space, conversations picking up from where they’d left off on Friday.
She spotted everyone in their usual spots, buzzing with the latest gossip and chatter. They were already knee-deep in debate over last night’s reality show eliminations and dissecting every dramatic twist. But then came the familiar debate about how Prakai Fa could even think of forgiving Chat after everything he’d done in their favorite Thai Lakorn, Raeng Ngao.
But there was one face Freen was more eager to see than any other, the one that had been lingering in her thoughts since Friday night at the carnival or more likely since the day they met, but Freen would never admit to that. The girl who would skip over and sit beside her, chattering about her weekend and what she’d made for breakfast. The girl who would go on and on about the characters in the novel she was currently obsessing over, ranting with excitement while Freen listened, even though she had no idea what the other girl was saying. The girl who would tell her about the complicated Thai word she’d learned the day before during her lessons and then pick her brain about a tricky proverb she couldn’t quite figure out.
The one face that was nowhere to be found.
“Do you know where Becky is?” Freen asked, her voice carrying a hint of worry, a little less steady than usual.
Irin glanced up, eyebrows knitting together. “I haven’t seen her today. It’s strange; she’s usually one of the first ones in.”
Freen tried to brush it off, but it didn’t sit right. Becky would usually send a quick text if she was running late or if something had come up. It was a small habit between them, something that reassured her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d come to depend on. She fidgeted, running her nails absently over the skin near her thumbnail, a nervous habit she’d tried to break countless times since she first cracked her skin open and began to bleed.
Slipping her phone from her back pocket, she pulled up her ongoing messaging thread with Becky. The last message on the screen was from the day before, a photo of a tulip bush Becky had come across during her evening walk. Freen had responded with a red heart emoji, something instinctive. Her stomach had done a somersault at the thought that Becky had remembered her favorite flower, something she’d mentioned in passing, and even sent her a picture of it. She looked at the photo for a moment longer, hesitating before typing out, ‘Hey, just checking in. Is everything okay?’
She was just about to hit send when there was a knock at the door. It was Nam from the artist management team, leaning in with a request for Freen to follow her. That wasn’t unusual; they were deep into finalizing rehearsals and script readings for their debut films, and they’d been shuttled around between studios and directors more than once lately.
But it was Nam’s tone that made her pause. Nam was the type who brought light into every room she entered, full of jokes and casual banter, always putting artists at ease. Today, though, her voice was serious, and something in her expression seemed off. Freen felt her unease deepen, worry creeping up as she followed Nam down the hall, wondering just what could have happened to disrupt the usual rhythm of their morning.
-
Freen’s feet felt weighted, like they had been brought down by kettlebells, as she made her way down the sunlit hallway, each step making a barely there thud against the carpeted floor. She hardly registered the soft warmth spilling in from the windows, her mind already spinning through every possible scenario. The cogs in her head turned slowly, searching for an answer that could explain the nagging feeling that had stirred up so suddenly in her chest.
Something felt wrong - off-kilter, like the air itself had shifted in the past fifteen minutes, or maybe it was Freen just imagining things. Her muscles tightened, her spine straightening with each step as she followed Nam to the elevator, her mind racing as she tried to keep her expression calm. She’d expected this would be a normal Monday morning, maybe another rehearsal or script reading, just another step toward her film. But the tension she felt growing in Nam’s silence suggested otherwise.
The elevator doors opened, revealing the polished concrete of the executive floor, and Freen’s stomach did a small flip. She rarely had reason to come up here, let alone with no context. As her sneaker squeaked against the polished floor, she finally turned to Nam, her question slipping out in a low murmur, “P’Nam, what’s going on? You don’t seem like yourself today.”
Nam looked back at her, her eyes soft with an almost apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Freen,” she said, her voice as quiet as Freen had ever heard it. “I’ve been asked not to say anything. They just want you to wait in the lounge until they’re ready to call you in.”
Worry crept up Freen’s spine as she took in Nam’s words, a hundred possibilities racing through her mind. She managed a tight nod, watching Nam walk away, feeling the heaviness of unspoken questions piling up as she sat down in the quiet lounge.
Sitting just outside the office, Freen strained to catch bits and pieces of the conversation happening inside. Some voices were low and deliberate, others sharper, almost cutting, with hints of frustration woven through. She heard whispers, muffled exchanges, and even a few tense, accusing tones. She couldn’t make out the words, but she counted about five distinct voices.
One of them, unmistakably, was Maya Suwannarat’s, granted that she was sitting outside her office. Even through the frosted glass, Maya’s voice carried a weight that Freen recognized instantly. As the Chief Creative Officer, and previously, the CEO, Maya’s legacy had been one of Freen’s biggest inspirations. Known for her determined vision and renowned storytelling, Maya was the main reason why Freen had dreamed of joining Maya Entertainment. Just to be in the same building as someone like Maya, learn from her, take her guidance and turn it into her own form of art, Freen suspected this was about to be her big break and it made the excitement nearly impossible to contain.
Hints and nods had been tossed her way in recent weeks, clues she’d tried to downplay to protect herself from disappointment. But sitting here, listening to these muffled voices discussing what she could only hope involved her, that hope felt more real than ever. The air felt different, and Freen found herself on the verge of what she’d quietly imagined from her very first day here.
In just a few seconds, the tightness in Freen’s chest began to ease, the anxiety that had tightened around her neck loosening as excitement quietly took its place. She let out a shallow breath, feeling her taut shoulders drop slightly as a sense of relief washed over her. Judging by the mix of voices, most of the people inside were likely from administration, probably discussing details about her debut. The idea of it made her heart beat a little faster, her hands went a little weak and a smile spread through the subtle curves of her face. Even though she tried to keep her hopes grounded, still, the thrill of possibility was undeniable, bubbling up just enough to pump adrenaline through her veins a little faster.
Aside from her family, there was really only one person she wanted to share this moment with. She slipped her phone out, opening her chat with Becky. She deleted her previous draft about Becky’s whereabouts and started typing, wanting to fill her in on everything happening at this exact moment. But before she could finish, she felt an icy cold shiver run up and down her spine due to a distinct sound she was oh so familiar with, she froze.
The voice drifted through the frosted glass of the office, soft but unmistakable. The sound echoed against the frosted glass, vibrating through the cushiony carpet on the lounge, and though the glass muffled it as much as it could, Freen heard it loud and clear.
Becky’s voice.
She knew there was an entirely different reason why that voice didn’t feel ordinary, why her hands started shaking and why her heart seemed to have found a home at the bottom of her throat. Her legs felt weak, her knees practically giving way as she sank deeper into the armchair. The cushions didn’t feel soft, though; they seemed to swallow her whole, like an anchor pulling her down as her head began to swim.
Freen knew exactly what was happening. Her heart, that same heart that had leapt with joy just moments before, was now beating to a different rhythm, one marked by confusion and the tone of her voice. She couldn’t tear herself away from the sound of Becky’s voice, but every syllable, every familiar note she could pick up through the wall, cut a little deeper, glass shards sank into every crevice of her heart, turning her dizzy anticipation into something that felt a lot like heartbreak.
“She’s hopeless. I don’t understand why anyone would even think of casting her, it’s pathetic, really.”
“Watching her try to act is painful.”
“Giving her this role? It’s like throwing scraps to someone who doesn't belong here at all.”
Freen felt the words slam into her gut, a blow so sharp it left her breathless.