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Burnout, William had learned, wasn't a thing that announced itself. There was no moment where everything came apart at once. It crept in quietly, stealing a little more from him every day until he couldn't remember what it felt like to wake up rested or leave work without carrying it home. Some Days, he'd find himself alone in the hospital break room, staring at the white tile floor with a paper cup of terrible coffee cooling in his hands, wondering how long he could stay exactly like this before somebody noticed there wasn't much of him left.
It was more like being carved away, one careful scoop at a time, until there was barely enough left to call your own.
For four years, William's life in Bangkok had settled into a rhythm that never seemed to end. Fluorescent lights. The sharp whine of dental drills. A waiting room that was already full before he'd finished his first coffee. Days blurred into nights until he stopped bothering to tell them apart.
He'd been the dependable youngest son. The one who stayed when his older brother left. The one who accepted the Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery residency everyone wanted, because saying no had never really felt like an option.
At home, approval was quiet and disappointment quieter. Success was measured in degrees on the wall, promotions, and impossibly long workweeks. William spent years chasing that approval, the only way he knew how: with perfect grades, longer shifts, and the hope that if he kept going, one day his parents might look at him and see more than another accomplishment to tick off a list.
He had convinced himself that the tightness in his chest was just the price of admission. He had told himself that everyone’s hands shook a little when they reached for the mirror at the end of a twelve-hour shift.
Then came a Tuesday.
It rained from sunrise. The Hospital never slowed down. One extraction bled into the next until William found himself halfway through a wisdom tooth that refused to budge, stubborn enough to feel personally offended by his existence. He adjusted his grip. Nothing. For one strange second, he couldn't feel his fingers.
The realisation hit before the fear did.
The drill whined somewhere in the room. Someone spoke. A tray clinked against metal. The sounds reached him as though they were coming from underwater, muffled and impossibly far away. His heartbeat climbed into his throat. Air went in, but somehow never seemed to make it to his lungs, and the weight pressing against his chest grew heavier with every breath. He stared at his gloved hands, willing them to move, and wondered when they'd stopped feeling like they belonged to him.
He'd left the operatory without really remembering making the decision. Still wearing his surgical mask, he'd wandered through the familiar green corridors until he found the smallest break room in the building, closed the door behind him, and called his older brother. Pond answered on the second ring.
"I think I'm... dissolving," William said.
There was a pause.
"That's a new one."
"I know." William let his head fall back against the wall. "Or maybe I'm just done. I keep looking at my tray of instruments and thinking how satisfying it'd be to dump the whole thing into the Chao Phraya and disappear into a cave somewhere."
Pond had left home—and, by extension, their demanding parents—almost ten years ago and, as far as William could tell, had never once been tempted to look back. He didn't laugh. He didn't tell William to take a deep breath or power through it. Didn't suggest a holiday or a better work-life balance, like those things could be ordered online. He just hummed quietly in William's ear. In the background, a toddler was singing something off-key, punctuated by delighted giggles and what sounded suspiciously like a saucepan hitting the floor. The noise should have been distracting. Instead, it made William feel like he was talking to someone real. Someone who wasn't trying to fix him—just reminding him he didn't have to hold himself together alone.
"Well," Pond said, "we've got a vacant space in the medical centre here in Nathon." William could hear a door slide open, followed by the shriek of a child determined to outrun lunch. "We've got me, a physiotherapist, a pharmacy, even a veterinarian." Pond paused. "What we don't have is a dentist."
William let out a weak laugh.
"And unless something's changed since medical school, everyone on this island still has teeth."
"P’Pond..."
"Pack your bags, Lil' Will." His brother's voice softened. "Let me take care of you for a change."
So, he had. He had handed in his resignation, packed his life into a single suitcase, and fled.
It took William exactly three minutes to realise he'd underestimated just how different Nathon was. He'd spent his whole life in Bangkok, where the air always carried a trace of exhaust and the skyline was all glass and concrete. Here, everything looked impossibly alive. The trees were greener. The sky seemed bigger. Even the sunlight felt brighter, bouncing off whitewashed shopfronts and the sea until it made him squint. The air hung warm against his skin, heavy with humidity and the sweet scent of frangipani.
And underneath it all was salt.
William caught the unmistakable smell of the ocean and instinctively glanced toward it, as if it might have crept closer while he wasn't paying attention.
"It's temporary," William muttered to himself as he wrestled his suitcase down the wide wooden steps on his first afternoon. It became something of a mantra.
Pond's house sat tucked between towering coconut palms, the garden spilling over with hibiscus in impossible shades of pink and red. It was a gorgeous beach house with windows so large they barely seemed to qualify as walls. The problem with windows that big was that they offered an uninterrupted view of the ocean. He tried very hard not to look at it.
To William, the sea was an unpredictable thing. It had no edges, no neat boundaries, no reassuring sense of order. His world was built on millimetres. Give him a difficult root canal or a crown that needed adjusting by half a fraction, and he was perfectly content. Don't hand him an endless stretch of water that could swallow a boat without so much as an apology.
The sea was one giant question mark. William had always preferred periods.
"Uncle Will!"
A tiny hurricane in a sparkly pink tutu and a plastic silver crown crashed straight into his shins. William stumbled back half a step before looking down to find his three-year-old niece grinning up at him with Pond's impossibly expressive eyes. Piya clutched a blonde Barbie in an equally glittery pink ballgown. The doll's hair had been brushed with tremendous enthusiasm and very little success, puffing out around her head in every direction.
"Oh," William said, his shoulders finally relaxing as a real smile found its way onto his face. He dropped to one knee. "Hi, princess. And who's this?"
"Barbie!" Piya announced, shoving the doll right up to his face. "She has a big boo-boo!"
"Oh, does she?" William took the doll with exaggerated care and frowned thoughtfully at her tiny plastic smile. "Hmm. This is a very serious case."
Piya gasped.
"I think she's had far too many cupcakes and not nearly enough brushing." He glanced up at Piya. "Good thing her favourite stylist is available."
Piya beamed.
"I can fix it!"
"I was hoping you'd say that."
She snatched Barbie back with a delighted giggle, hugging her tightly enough that the doll's unruly blonde hair puffed out even farther.
A soft laugh drifted in from the open doorway.
Phuwin was leaning against the frame, a steaming mug of herbal tea cradled between his hands. He looked infuriatingly at ease in an oversized cream linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, a pencil tucked behind one ear, and a streak of blue ink across his thumb. He looked exactly like someone who made a living writing love stories—comfortable, observant, and mildly amused by the world around him.
"Don't let her fool you, William," Phuwin said, strolling over to ruffle Piya's already unruly hair. "Give her five minutes, and she'll have you wearing a matching tiara."
"Pink!" Piya declared.
"Of course pink," Phuwin said. "The prettiest one," Phuwin agreed solemnly before turning back to William. "Need a hand with the suitcase?"
"I'm okay."
"You sure? The guest room's all yours for as long as you need it. We'd hoped to have you settled into a place of your own by now, but the estate agent keeps sending Pond in circles. Rentals here are... complicated. Half the houses are family-owned, the other half disappear into holiday listings before locals even get a chance to look at them."
William shook his head. "Honestly, the guest room is perfect. Thank you. Really."
"Good." Phuwin smiled. "Pond's just finishing up at the clinic. He promised he'd escape before sunset."
William nodded, but as he straightened, his shoulders pulled tight without his permission. His body still hadn't accepted that he no longer had to brace for the next thing.
Phuwin noticed.
"You're family, William," he said quietly. "You never have to thank us for having you here."
Something in William's expression softened.
"And if we're being completely selfish," Phuwin continued, brightening, "you're doing the island a huge favour. Pond's been trying to convince a dentist to come out here for years. Half the parents in Nathon drive all the way to Chaweng for a routine check-up. So, congratulations. You're the closest thing we've got to a local celebrity." Phuwin smiled. "Well... apart from Est Supha, obviously."
William laughed, surprised by how easily it came.
Phuwin gestured for him to follow him inside. The kitchen was unmistakably the heart of the house. A massive weathered teak table took up most of the space, buried beneath loose sheets of drawing paper, children's colouring books, half-finished mugs of coffee, and a large ceramic bowl overflowing with fresh rambutan. One chair had a tiny pink cardigan draped over the back, another was stacked with manuscript pages held together by an overworked binder clip.
The room looked comfortably lived in, the kind of place where breakfast blurred into lunch, stories were written between cups of tea, and nobody seemed particularly bothered by the clutter.
It was nothing like the house William and Pond had grown up in.
Their childhood home had always felt more like a showroom than somewhere people actually lived. Every book returned to its shelf. Every cushion straightened. Every surface was polished until it gleamed. There was a place for everything, and everything was expected to stay exactly where it belonged. Noise had been discouraged. Clutter was frowned upon. Excellence, on the other hand, was practically mandatory. Pond had been the first to push back. When he'd chosen Chiang Mai Medical University instead of the prestigious medical program in Bangkok their father had already decided on, the argument that followed had stretched on for months. In the end, Pond left anyway. He built a life first in the north, then on an island hundreds of kilometres away, and never looked back, while William had stayed behind, trying desperately to fill the void left in his brother's wake.
By the time William graduated, Pond had already made a home for himself on Koh Samui, building a life that would have baffled their parents. They kept in touch, of course. But years had a way of slipping by. William's residency swallowed most of his time, and whatever was left was usually spent too exhausted to call. Somewhere along the way, regular conversations became birthday messages, then the occasional phone call that always ended with, We should do this more often.
The last time they'd really been together was Pond and Phuwin's wedding. Even then, William had spent half the reception tucked into a quiet corner with his phone in one hand, answering increasingly frantic emails from his chief resident. He'd smiled for the photos, toasted the happy couple, and somehow still managed to feel like a guest at his own brother's wedding. Or maybe not even that. More like a ghost passing through it.
That wasn't entirely true. There had been Piya.
When she'd been born in Nakhon Si Thammarat, where Phuwin's parents lived, William had practically begged his chief resident for a single day's leave. He got it—twenty-four precious hours, most of which disappeared into airports and highways. By the time he reached the hospital, Piya was already half a day old.
Phuwin, exhausted from giving birth, had still managed to smile at him.
"How's residency?"
William remembered laughing because, somehow, that had been the easiest question in the room.
Pond had squeezed his shoulder before he'd left. "Thanks for coming," he'd said simply. "At least someone from the family did."
Two hours later, William was back on a plane to Bangkok. The rest of Piya's childhood had unfolded in flashes—a video call on a Sunday afternoon, birthday photos in the group chat, long weekends whenever Pond and Phuwin managed to make the trip to Bangkok. He'd watched his niece grow up one screen, one visit, one apology at a time.
During his first night in Nathon, William realised that years apart hadn't changed nearly as much as he'd feared. He found himself feeling strangely... pampered. It was an unfamiliar sensation. So was being cared for without anyone expecting something in return.
That evening, dinner was loud in the way only family dinners could be.
Pond came through the front door smelling faintly of antiseptic, rain, and the sea, barely giving himself time to kick off his sandals before pulling William into a hug so tight it squeezed the air from his lungs.
"Missed you, Willy."
William hugged him back just as hard.
Pond didn't ask about his five-year plan. He didn't ask whether he'd made senior consultant yet, or why he still hadn't bought a condo in Bangkok. Instead, he filled William's plate with Southern Thai crab curry—gaeng pu—until the rice disappeared beneath the rich yellow coconut sauce, fragrant with wild betel leaves and just enough chilli to make William's nose tingle.
"You've gotten too skinny," Pond declared, reaching over to wipe a streak of curry from Piya's cheek before she noticed. Barbie, meanwhile, sat in a toy highchair beside her, wearing a cloth napkin tied proudly around her neck like a bib.
"Do they not feed dentists in the capital anymore?"
"They do," William said, reaching for the metal crackers and attacking a crab claw. "I just usually eat standing over the sink while looking at bite-wing X-rays."
Phuwin set down his water glass and regarded William over the rim of it. "I've decided we're intervening."
William looked up.
"Step one," Phuwin continued, holding up a finger, "no talking about teeth, roots, gums, plaque, or anything remotely dental after six o'clock."
Pond nodded solemnly. "I support this motion."
"Step two," Phuwin said, ignoring him, "you are going to spend the next two weeks doing absolutely nothing while the contractors finish the clinic."
William blinked, the crab cracker still hanging awkwardly in his hand.
"...Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"I have inventory to order," William protested. "The shipping containers need unpacking. I still have to calibrate the autoclave, and the dental chair needs—"
"It'll still need calibrating next week," Pond cut in.
Phuwin smiled into his glass.
"In the meantime, you need sunlight."
William frowned as though sunlight were a prescription medication with a worrying list of side effects.
"The beach's five minutes away," Phuwin continued. "Go tomorrow afternoon. Take a book. Lie on a towel. Listen to the waves."
William looked deeply unconvinced.
"The... beach?" William repeated, his voice dropping just enough to make the word sound vaguely threatening.
Phuwin grinned. "Yes. You know—that giant sandbox next to the ocean."
William stared at him.
"I don't think that's a particularly good idea."
"Oh?"
"The sun is objectively terrible for your skin." William held up a finger. "Sand is an invasive material. It gets into shoes, bags, towels, pockets—places it has absolutely no business being. And the ocean..." He trailed off, visibly reconsidering how much of himself he wanted to reveal over dinner.
"The ocean?" Phuwin prompted, trying very hard not to smile.
William cleared his throat. "...is unnecessarily large."
"Oh my God," Pond said, suddenly dissolving into laughter. He covered his face with one hand, shoulders shaking. "Phu, I completely forgot about this."
William's eyes narrowed. "Don't."
"When we were ten, our parents took us to Hua Hin." Pond looked at Phuwin, already grinning too hard to get the words out properly. "William saw the tide coming in once—once—and convinced himself the ocean was swallowing the land. He refused to leave the hotel room for four days and sat on the bed in a bright yellow raincoat."
"I was assessing the risk," William corrected, his cheeks warming a dusted pink. "Which, for the record, was a perfectly reasonable thing to do."
Pond made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.
"The ocean is completely unpredictable," William continued, undeterred. "Questionably sanitary. And, frankly, entirely unnecessary for basic human survival."
Phuwin's eyes lit up. William recognised that look immediately. It was the same one Phuwin got whenever a conversation handed him something too good to waste—a plot twist, an embarrassing anecdote, or, apparently, his brother-in-law's deeply irrational relationship with the ocean. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands, smiling at William with undisguised delight.
"Unsanitary?" Phuwin repeated, one eyebrow lifting. "William, it's salt water. It's practically sterile."
"It has fish faeces in it, P'Phuwin," William said flatly, meeting his brother-in-law's gaze with complete sincerity. "Millions of fish. Just... going about their day. Right where people swim."
Pond chuckled and reached over to give William's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Well," he said, entirely too cheerfully, "you're going to have to make peace with it, Willy. The clinic looks straight out at Nathon Pier. On a clear day, you can see the water from the dental chair."
William went very still. "You mean my patients can see the ocean while I'm drilling?"
"And so can you."
William felt the faintest twitch in his left eyelid. Wonderful. Perfect.
"Don't worry," Phuwin said, his smile widening into something downright conspiratorial as he caught Pond's eye across the table. "We won't make you swim. But tomorrow, after lunch, I am personally escorting you down to the sand. You need fresh air, William. And who knows? Maybe you'll find something out there that makes the view worth the risk."
William looked from Pond to Phuwin, then over at Piya, who was earnestly trying to feed Barbie a piece of discarded crab shell. William sighed. He'd been on the island for less than a day, and somehow he'd already lost the argument.
Tomorrow, apparently, he was going to the beach.
If William had to draft a survival guide for enduring the outdoor world, step one would be, Never let Phuwin pack your beach bag.
"You look like you're heading into battle," Phuwin observed, shielding his eyes as he looked William up and down, barely bothering to hide his amusement.
William stood on the wooden steps outside the beach house, making one final adjustment to the wide-brimmed UPF bucket hat pulled low over his forehead. The chin strap was fastened securely beneath his jaw. His lightweight linen shirt was buttoned all the way to the collar, the sleeves rolled neatly to his wrists. Loose cargo trousers ensured not a single grain of sand would come into direct contact with his skin, while a pair of polarised sunglasses hid most of his expression behind dark lenses. He'd applied enough mineral sunscreen to survive an eclipse, leaving the faint white cast across his cheeks that made him look like a Victorian child.
Tucked under one arm was a thick hardback crime novel—A book where everyone was either divorced, dead, or quietly contemplating both, and it never seemed to stop snowing. On the other hand, he carried a folding chair complete with its own canopy, cup holders, and a detachable zippered footrest.
"I am practising responsible sun safety," William replied, his voice slightly muffled by the collar of his linen shirt. "I'm protecting my skin from premature ageing, melanoma, and years of completely preventable sun damage." He glanced toward Piya with satisfaction. "Honestly, P'Phuwin, you should be thanking me. I'm setting an excellent example for Piya."
At the sound of her name, Piya let out a delighted squeal from the bottom of the steps. She bounced from foot to foot in a neon-pink rash guard, a matching tutu swim skirt, and glittery pink goggles perched on top of her head. Barbie was tucked under one arm. Thanks to William, the doll also sported a thick, decidedly uneven smear of zinc sunscreen across her plastic forehead.
"See?" William pointed a finger, adjusting his bucket hat. "Piya understands the dangers of ultraviolet radiation. Barbie is protected. Barbie will not require reconstructive plastic surgery in ten years."
"Barbie is currently blind, William. You got sunscreen in her eyes," Phuwin said with a laugh, shaking his head. He was dressed for the weather in a pair of faded green swim trunks and an oversized linen shirt left open to catch the breeze, looking as though he'd been born on an island. Standing next to him, William felt spectacularly overdressed.
"Come on," Phuwin said, already heading toward the path. "Before you decide, you need a hazmat suit."
The path to the beach wound beneath a canopy of sea almonds and leaning coconut palms, the sand cool beneath their feet and dappled with shifting patches of sunlight. It felt almost sheltered. Then they reached the end of the trail. The shade fell away all at once, replaced by an expanse of bright blue sea and sunlit sand that made William instinctively squint.
The heat hit him first. It wrapped around him like a damp towel fresh from the dryer, settling against his skin before he'd even taken another step. Then came the sound—the rush of waves rolling onto the shore. William's brain filed it away under Potential Hazards before he'd even finished processing it.
"We're stopping here first," Phuwin said, guiding them toward a rustic open-air restobar tucked just where the shaded path gave way to the beach.
The place looked as though it had grown there over the years. Weathered driftwood beams held up a corrugated tin roof, while faded strings of fairy lights looped lazily between the rafters. A hand-painted sign, swinging gently from a length of rope tied to a coconut husk, read Hong's Place. The smell reached William before they did. Garlic sizzling on a hot grill. Fresh lime. Sweet coconut syrup. Charred lemongrass carried on the sea breeze. His stomach, traitor that it was, growled.
He had barely stepped beneath the shade of the tin roof when an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh rang out from the bar.
"If you put one more piece of kale into that blender, Hong, I swear to God I'm reporting this place to the Department of Health for crimes against taste buds."
"It's a wellness smoothie, Nut," came the calm, thoroughly unbothered reply from behind the bar. "It aligns your chakras. And frankly, judging by your current stress levels, your chakras are in a headlock."
William blinked behind his sunglasses, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimmer interior.
Behind the counter, a lean man with silver hair twisted into a messy topknot stood patiently feeding another leafy green into a blender. A faded apron hung loosely over a fitted black crop top, exposing a strip of toned midriff, as he calmly added the last of the greens without sparing the increasingly irritated customer so much as a glance. Across from him, perched on a bamboo barstool, sat a man who looked as though he'd taken a wrong turn on his way to an office meeting. His polo shirt was so crisply pressed it practically had corners.
The man behind the counter calmly added another stalk of kale to the blender without breaking eye contact.
"My chakras are fine! My blood pressure, however, is being actively assaulted by your complete disregard for the culinary arts!" the impeccably dressed man shot back. For all his outrage, though, he made no move to leave. If anything, he leaned farther across the counter, narrowing his eyes with an indignation that felt just a little too performative.
"Don't mind them," Phuwin murmured to William, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "That's just their version of foreplay. They’ve been engaged for half a year, but they still communicate almost exclusively in threats of domestic property damage and license revocation."
"Fiancés?" William repeated, his eyebrows shooting up past the rim of his sunglasses as he stared at the two men, who were now locked in a silent glaring contest over a single piece of celery. "They look like they’re about to write each other out of their respective wills."
"Same difference on this island," Phuwin chuckled, giving William a gentle nudge forward.
"Uncle Hong!" Piya squealed, slipping free of Phuwin's hand and racing toward the bar, her pink tutu bouncing behind her with every step.
The man with the topknot—Hong—abandoned the blender without a second thought. The teasing smile he'd been wearing vanished, replaced by something so openly fond it softened his whole face. He caught Piya as she launched herself at him, lifting her effortlessly into his arms and hugging her close without the slightest concern for the sand clinging to her legs or the streaks of zinc sunscreen smeared across her cheeks.
"There’s my favourite princess!" Hong laughed, tossing her lightly in the air before burying his face in her hair. "Have you come to save me from the grumpy animal doctor?"
"Uncle Nut is grumpy because he needs a cookie," Piya declared with all the unwavering confidence of a three-year-old.
The man in the polo shirt—Nut—let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest as if physically wounded. "Piya! I am deeply hurt. And here I thought we were best friends. I even brought a special treat for your puppy doll."
Phuwin guided William forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Hong, Nut, this is William. Pond’s younger brother. He’s the dentist we finally managed to kidnap from Bangkok."
Nut’s eyes lit up, his grumpy posture instantly vanishing as he stood up to shake William's hand. "Ah, the dentist! Thank goodness. I’m Nut, the resident veterinarian at the medical complex. We’re going to be neighbours. If you ever need someone to complain about the plumbing, the absolute lack of consistent Wi-Fi, or help you suture a very angry feral cat, I’m your man."
"I... hopefully won't be suturing any cats," William said, offering a polite, slightly reserved smile as he shook Nut’s hand. "But it's nice to meet you, Dr Nut."
"Just Nut," he corrected, shooting a pointed look at Hong, who was currently making a funny face at Piya. "Some people here don't respect my medical degree."
"I respect your degree, baby," Hong chimed in, leaning over the bar with a lazy grin, still holding Piya. "I just don't respect your palate. William, welcome to Nathon. If you ever need a real drink to recover from Pond's cooking, this is the spot. First one is on the house."
"Thank you," William said, his shoulders easing just a little. Everyone he'd met since arriving had welcomed him as though he'd always belonged here. Even Hong and Nut, who seemed determined to argue their way to the altar, carried an easy warmth that William wasn't used to.
Back in Bangkok, most conversations with other doctors felt like quiet competitions disguised as small talk. Here, nobody seemed interested in measuring him against anyone else.
"Alright, we need to get this creature of the dark some fresh air before he dissolves into a pile of dust," Phuwin teased, gently extracting Piya from Hong’s arms. "See you guys for dinner later?"
"Only if Hong isn't cooking," Nut sniffed, though he was already pulling his stool closer to the bar, his hand resting casually over Hong's waist.
Phuwin led William out of the cool shade of the restobar and onto the blinding white sand of Nathon Beach. William immediately regretted it. His sandals sank with every step, disappearing into the shifting ground. Nothing felt solid. Nothing stayed where he expected it to. Sand slipped beneath his feet, crept over the edges of his soles, and seemed personally determined to find its way into his expensive leather sandals. It was unstable. It was unsound. And, William was fairly certain, it was doing this on purpose.
"This is far enough," William announced, stopping a mere ten feet onto the sand, well away from the damp line where the tide licked the shore.
"William, we are barely out of the shade," Phuwin sighed, stopping to look back at him.
"It is a vantage point," William argued, immediately unfolding his canopy chair and sinking into it with a dramatic sigh. He planted his umbrella firmly into the sand, creating a perfectly circular fortress of shadow. "I can observe the natural environment without actively participating in it. Go. Splash. Do your water things."
Phuwin rolled his eyes, though there wasn't an ounce of impatience behind it. If William wanted to spend his afternoon hiding beneath an umbrella ten feet from the path, then that was where he'd spend it. "Fine. But if you see a giant crab trying to drag me away, at least look up from your book."
"I will write a highly detailed review of this beach on google," William promised solemnly.
Laughing, Phuwin took Piya's hand, and together they wandered toward the shoreline, Piya chattering away as she skipped across the sand. William watched them go, caught somewhere between wistfulness and relief. Then, he settled deeper into his chair, adjusted his sunglasses, and opened his thick novel. Within moments, he was happily escaping into a world of endless winter, unsolved murders, and people who appeared to have forgotten joy existed. It felt far less intimidating than the ocean stretching out a safe distance away.
But reading was proving to be an impossible task.
The afternoon settled around him in layers of warmth, the air carrying the scent of salt, frangipani, and coconut. The hush of the waves rolled in and out with such persistence that, before long, William stopped noticing it as a threat and started noticing it as... well, noise. He frowned at the thought. His eyes dropped back to the page. A body had been discovered frozen in a Norwegian fjord, and he'd somehow managed to read the same paragraph three times without absorbing a single word. Every few lines, his attention drifted back to the sea, as though the crash of the tide kept tugging gently at the edge of his concentration.
Then, a sound broke through the low hum of the ocean—a giggle that William recognised instantly.
He looked up over the rim of his sunglasses.
Phuwin and Piya were standing in the shallow, ankle-deep water, the gentle tide washing over their feet. But they weren't alone.
Standing in the water with them was a man.
William's brain, normally so efficient at sorting information into neat, sensible categories, abruptly forgot how to function. The man standing with Phuwin and Piya was, quite possibly, the single most inconveniently attractive person William had ever seen. He was tall, all broad shoulders and easy athleticism. His skin had been slightly tanned by years beneath the island sun, and the damp curls at the nape of his neck suggested he'd been in the water more recently than William cared to think about. A bright red shirt clung to his back and shoulders, still darkened in places by seawater. Across it, in bold white letters, was a single word.
LIFEGUARD.
As William watched, the man crouched to Piya's height before sweeping her effortlessly into his arms.
"Again!" she squealed.
"As you wish, princess."
He tossed her just high enough to earn another burst of delighted laughter before catching her with ease, as though he'd done it a hundred times before. His own laugh followed a second later. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Beside him, Phuwin watched the whole exchange with the easy affection of someone who'd seen it countless times before.
Something in William's chest gave a strange, unfamiliar tug. Not the crushing pressure that had driven him out of Bangkok. Nothing like that. This was lighter. Quieter. Annoyingly noticeable. His fingers tightened around the cover of his book.
Who is that?
The question arrived before the sensible part of his brain had a chance to intervene. Before it could remind him that the sun was trying to age him prematurely, that the sand remained deeply suspicious, and that he had an excellent Scandinavian murder to get back to. Almost without realising it, William closed the book. He stood. Then, abandoning both his carefully positioned canopy chair and the perfectly engineered patch of shade he'd spent ten minutes constructing, he started walking toward the water, each step sinking a little into the warm sand. He stopped just a foot short of the wet sand, his sandals hovering on the dry border.
Phuwin spotted him first, his eyebrows lifting.
"Well, look who decided to rejoin civilisation." He smiled. "Finished solving all the murders already?"
The lifeguard turned at the sound of his voice.
That was a mistake. Up close, he was somehow even worse. William's brain supplied the only diagnosis it could manage. Oh. He was gorgeous.
"William," Phuwin said, stepping closer and gesturing between them. "This is Est. Est Supha. He’s my best friend, Hong’s primary headache, and an actual, real-life Olympian when he isn't busy rescuing inflatable toys."
"Olympian?" William managed to say, his voice sounding slightly higher than usual. He cleared his throat, trying to summon his composed demeanour. "As in... the Olympics?"
Est let out a soft laugh, setting Piya down gently onto her feet. He wiped his wet hands on his shorts before holding one out to William, an incredibly pretty smile breaking across his face.
"Don't let him oversell it," Est said, his voice a warm baritone. "I just swim fast in a straight line. And occasionally, I make sure the tourists don't drift all the way to Surat Thani."
William looked at the offered hand. It was damp. It was salty. It had probably touched fish-adjacent water.
He took it anyway.
Est's hand was warm, his grip firm without being overbearing. The moment their hands met, something odd skipped up William's arm. His heartbeat stumbled over itself in a way he was fairly certain deserved clinical observation. Preferably by someone other than him.
"I'm William," he said, staring perhaps a second too long at the way a stray drop of saltwater was slowly tracing a path down Est's neck. "I'm... P’Pond's brother. The dentist."
Est’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling. "Ah! The dentist. Phuwin’s been talking about you. Honestly, thank goodness you're here. No offence to Dr Nut, but I don't think he’s qualified to do a root canal, even if he did offer to try once."
"He offered?" William blinked, momentarily horrified by the dental ethics of a veterinarian.
"We were desperate," Est teased, "Seriously, William. It's really good to have you here. This side of the island has needed a dentist for a long time."
Before William could formulate a response—before he could say something witty or at least sound like a fully functioning adult who hadn't just had his brain turned to mush by a pair of honey-colored eyes—a sharp whistle blew from further down the beach.
Est turned his head, his jawline tensing as he spotted a group of tourists on a pair of jet skis who were steering dangerously close to the swimming boundary flags. He let out an apologetic sigh, turning back to William. His eyes lingered on William’s face for a brief second, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Duty calls," Est said softly, stepping backwards into the water with an ease that made it look like walking on liquid was the most natural thing in the world. "Don't be a stranger, Doctor. I'll see you around."
"Yes," William whispered, his hand still tingling from the handshake. "See you."
With one last apologetic smile, Est turned and broke into an easy jog, splashing through the shallows with the confidence of someone who belonged there. The bright red of his lifeguard shirt stood out against the sweep of blue water and pale sand until he was several yards away.
William stayed exactly where he was, toes planted firmly in the dry sand and watched him go.
"You know," Phuwin’s voice drifted over, dripping with an intolerable amount of smug satisfaction. "The sun is actually very hot out here, William. Are you sure you don't want to go back to your shadow?"
William didn't look at his brother-in-law. He kept his eyes locked on the retreating figure of the lifeguard, feeling the warm breeze ruffle his hair.
He slowly adjusted his sunglasses.
"The... sun," William murmured, his voice flat, trying desperately to sound unaffected. "The sun is actually quite nice today. I think I need to build up my vitamin D levels."
Phuwin snorted, picking up Piya and walking past him toward the house. "Of course. Vitamin D. Let me know when you need more sunscreen, Willy."
As William slowly walked back to his canopy chair, his book suddenly felt very uninteresting. He looked back out at the endless ocean. The watery abyss didn't look quite so terrifying. In fact, if he looked closely enough, the horizon line looked almost... inviting.
Well. It looked like he was going to have to become a beach person.
A week ago, if someone had asked William to describe his personal hell, he could have done it in alarming detail. It would involve a worrisome quantity of sand. A UV index that bordered on criminal. And an enormous body of water inhabited by an untold number of fish going about deeply unhygienic business. As far as William was concerned, the world was simply a collection of potential hazards waiting to be managed.
And yet...Here he was. For the seventh afternoon in a row.
He sat tucked inside what Pond had affectionately dubbed his shade station —a folding chair with its own canopy that looked suspiciously more like a portable beach cabana than camping equipment. William, naturally, considered it a triumph. His umbrella had been planted at a carefully calculated forty-five-degree angle to keep pace with the afternoon sun. He wore a UPF 50+ long-sleeve swim shirt, sunglasses, and enough mineral sunscreen that any self-respecting dermatologist would have looked upon him with undisguised pride.
He looked less like someone spending an afternoon at the beach and more like a field researcher about to document a newly discovered species from a very safe distance.
In his hands, he held his thriller novel. It was a miserable book about a detective chasing a killer through a blizzard. William found it comforting. The only problem was that he had been on page forty-two since Tuesday. Every time William managed to lose himself in the page, the sound of the waves would pull him back. And somewhere beneath them, he'd catch the unmistakable rise and fall of one very familiar voice carrying across the water.
Phuwin had come with him the first two afternoons, making William feel a little less conspicuous sitting alone on the beach. But he had deadlines. His latest novel was approaching its climax, and his publisher had begun sending increasingly pointed emails. Piya, meanwhile, had recently decided that every afternoon her Barbies required an elaborate wedding ceremony. That left Phuwin at home racing to finish a chapter while Pond found himself cast as the tearful flower girl—a role he was taking surprisingly seriously—all in an effort to stop Piya from eating the paper confetti.
Which left William entirely alone on the sand. Completely by choice. Definitely not because he had memorised the rotating shift schedule of Nathon’s volunteer lifeguard department. He had absolutely not written it down on a sticky note in his planner under the guise of local community outreach observation. That would be highly unreasonable.
"You know," a smooth voice drifted from behind him, shattering his fragile bubble of concentration, "if you stare any harder at that wooden tower, you’re going to set it on fire with your mind. And that's town property, William. The island council will make Pond pay for it, and then Phuwin will have to write an entire extra chapter about tragic yearning just to cover the municipal damages."
William did not jump. He was a medical professional. He possessed excellent motor control. Very calmly, and with what he believed was considerable dignity, he lowered his book by exactly an inch. Hong was standing at the edge of his patch of shade, watching him with amusement.
Hong looked infuriatingly at ease. His silver hair was twisted into its usual messy knot, and a sleeveless cream linen shirt left his arms bare. In one hand, he held a tall glass beaded with condensation, the bright pink drink inside catching the afternoon light. More concerningly, he wore the mildly entertained expression of someone who had already figured William out.
"I am not staring at the lifeguard tower," William said, despite the warmth creeping into his cheeks. "I am practising open-eye meditation. It's a scientifically supported technique for lowering stress after a major career transition."
Hong waited.
"The tower," William continued, "simply happens to be a convenient focal point."
"Right," Hong said, stepping into the shade and leaning casually against the umbrella pole. He held out the glass.
"Watermelon and lime. I promise there's no kale in it."
William eyed the drink suspiciously.
Hong smiled.
"You've been sitting out here for the better part of an hour looking like a Victorian ghost. Drink something before you faint dramatically and scare away my customers."
"Thank you," William murmured, taking the glass. The icy condensation felt incredible against his palms, "And for the record, I am perfectly fine. I have simply started to appreciate the natural benefits of solar exposure. Vitamin D is essential for bone density."
Hong slowly looked up at the sky. Then he looked at the massive canvas canopy directly over William’s head. Then he looked at the wide-brimmed bucket hat William was wearing. Finally, he looked out across the expanse of the bay, straight toward the wooden lifeguard stand where a certain broad-shouldered man in a red t-shirt was currently adjusting a pair of binoculars.
"You've been facing the lifeguard tower for hours, Doctor," Hong remarked, a slow, highly amused grin spreading across his handsome face. "If you wanted any more vitamin D, you'd have to physically climb up there and ask him to write you a prescription."
William took a very slow sip of his drink, feeling the chill of the watermelon slide down his throat, desperately buying time for his brain to formulate a defence. "...The sun is... over there."
"The sun is directly behind you, William. It's setting."
"It's a reflection," William shot back immediately, "The refraction of light off the water’s surface creates a secondary source of ultraviolet exposure. It’s a phenomenon known as albedo. I am just positioning myself to avoid direct glare while maximising indirect exposure."
"Of course," Hong chuckled, shaking his head. "Albedo. My mistake. And that secondary source of ultraviolet exposure just happens to have a thirty-two-inch waist, an Olympic silver medal, and a really nice smile."
Before William could come up with something—before he could explain that he was merely making a perfectly objective observation about exceptional bone structure, and that it had absolutely nothing to do with the behaviour of his own heart—a burst of laughter drifted over from the shoreline.
William's eyes drifted past Hong before he could stop it.
Est was down by the shoreline, exactly where he always seemed to be. Over the past week, William had discovered that being a lifeguard appeared to involve far more than watching the water. Est seemed to know everyone. One minute, he was helping a child rebuild a sandcastle after a wave had flattened it; the next, he was returning a runaway beach ball, chatting with a group of tourists, or laughing with the elderly couple who took the same afternoon walk every day. He moved through it all with an easy confidence that William found deeply distracting. Considering the man already trained fifty kilometers a week in the pool, it was frankly unfair that he still had enough energy left to function as the beach's unofficial welcome committee.
Right now, Est was knee-deep in the surf, helping a frazzled family rescue a giant inflatable pink unicorn that had drifted beyond the swimming flags. He laughed as he wrestled the ridiculous thing back toward shore, the sound carrying easily over the steady rush of the waves. Sunlight caught on his damp shoulders as he finally steered the unicorn onto the sand, where an ecstatic little boy all but threw himself at it. Est handed it over with a grin, ruffling the child's hair before sending him back to his parents. Something in William's chest gave another of those strange little stumbles. He was beginning to find them increasingly inconvenient.
Then, Est paused, wiping a wet hand across his forehead to push back his damp hair. He turned his head. His honey-colored eyes locked directly onto William’s oversized canopy chair.
William immediately hoisted his book, pretending to be deeply invested in the tragedy of page forty-two.
"Oh, look," Hong murmured, his voice dripping with mock surprise. "The refraction of light has spotted you. And it is currently walking this way."
"Hong, please," William whispered, his heart rate doing a violent sprint. "Do not make it weird."
"I don't have to make it weird, William. You're doing a fantastic job of that all on your own," Hong teased, though he stepped back, giving a friendly wave as Est approached.
Est jogged up the sand, his athletic strides making the unstable, shifting ground look like a paved runway. He was wearing his lifeguard t-shirt, the fabric damp and clinging to the expanse of his chest, and his dark curls were wild, sticking up in salt-dried spikes. Up close, he smelled of mangoes, coconut oil, and warm skin. It was an incredibly unfair combination.
"Hey, Hong," Est said, his voice warm from laughter. Then he spotted William. His smile widened with easy recognition. "Hey, William." He nodded toward the hardback resting in William's lap. "How's the book? Any happier than yesterday?"
William inhaled a fraction of his watermelon drink and immediately regretted it. He cleared his throat with as much dignity as the situation allowed. "It's... good," he managed. "Very atmospheric. The pacing is extremely deliberate. I've just finished the third chapter."
"Sounds riveting," Est said, laughter lingering in his voice. His gaze wandered over William's meticulously assembled setup. He let out a chuckle. "You've upgraded since I saw you last. This isn't a beach chair anymore. It's a command center now. If a storm rolls in, I'm hiding under that thing. It looks sturdier than the lifeguard tower."
"It is rated for high winds," William replied, doing his absolute best to sound like a calm person instead of someone who had become inexplicably distracted by the fact that Est was still damp from the ocean. "And proper shade is essential for preventing heat exhaustion," he continued. "As a medical professional, I feel obligated to set a good example."
"Clearly," Est smiled, shifting his weight. His broad shoulders blocked out the glare of the setting sun, casting William in a personal shadow. He looked down at William with curiosity. "Though, you know, the water is actually really nice today. No jellyfish, no strong currents. If you wanted to, I don't know... dip a toe in? I could supervise. Make sure you don't get swept away by a rogue ankle-breaker."
William looked out at the ocean. It really was beautiful. The water was so clear it shifted between shades of turquoise with every passing wave. His brain, unfortunately, had other priorities. It immediately began compiling a mental list of all the things that could plausibly be living in warm coastal water, followed by a separate list devoted entirely to the unreliability of waves.
"Thank you for the offer," William said, his voice stiffening slightly as his default defense mechanism kicked in. "But I have a highly sensitive sense of balance. The shifting nature of the tide is... chaotic. I prefer to maintain a firm grip on solid ground."
"Solid ground," Est repeated, the word sounding soft, almost fond as it rolled off his tongue. "Alright. Solid ground it is. But if you ever change your mind... I’m always on duty."
"I... I will keep that in mind," William managed to say, his throat suddenly dry.
"Duty calls," Est said, gesturing toward the lifeguard stand with an apologetic smile as a group of teenagers started splashing a bit too close to the rocks. "I've got to go make sure those kids don't try to climb the breakwater. See you tomorrow, William?"
"Yes," William said, his voice barely a whisper. "See you."
Est gave Hong an easy nod before turning and jogging back down the beach, the bright red of his lifeguard shirt stood out against the sweep of blue water. William watched until he disappeared into the afternoon bustle. Only then did he remember to breathe normally. His heartbeat gradually settled, but something warm and quietly persistent lingered beneath his ribs.
Hong let out a theatrical sigh, crossing his arms as he looked down at William. "Well. That was painful. Beautiful, but painful."
"I don't know what you're talking about," William muttered, raised his book back to eye level, and determinedly stared at the first sentence of page forty-two. "I was simply being polite. It is important to maintain good relations with local emergency personnel."
"William," Hong said, his voice softening into something kind, though still laced with a teasing edge. "He came over here just to offer you a private swimming lesson. The man is an Olympian. He usually gets paid five thousand baht an hour for private coaching, and he just offered to hold your hand in the shallows for free."
William’s eyes widened. He slowly lowered the book, his heart doing a flip. "He did not offer to hold my hand."
"He said he could supervise, William. In lifeguard language, that's practically a date." Hong laughed, stepping out of the shadow of the canopy. "I’m going back to the bar. Nut is coming over in ten minutes to complain about his day, and I need to prepare an offensive green smoothie to ruin his mood. Don't stay out too late, Doctor. The refraction of light goes off shift at five."
With a wink, Hong sauntered back toward the restobar, leaving William alone.
William looked down at his book, then out across the water. The ocean was still vast. Still unpredictable. Still full of things he preferred not to think about. But for the first time in his life, it wasn't the first thing he noticed. Now, when he looked out at the sea, his mind went somewhere else entirely. It went to Est. William reached into his beach bag, pulled out his bottle of SPF 100, and carefully reapplied another layer across the bridge of his nose.
Well.
If he was going to keep coming back to the beach, he was definitely going to need more sunscreen.
To most of the world, Est Supha was one of the biggest names in Thai swimming. A freestyle specialist with an Olympic silver medal, a chest that had landed a dozen high-profile sportswear endorsements, and a face that stared down from towering billboards above Bangkok's gridlocked luxury districts. He was the man who made swimming look effortless.
His parents owned commercial high-rises, sprawling shopping malls, and luxury residential developments across the country. In their world, an Olympic silver medal was an impressive achievement, of course—but it was still treated like an extracurricular. Something nice to mention in interviews before getting back to the serious business of property, investments, and expansion.
Est had never needed the money from sponsorships, and no one had ever worried about what he'd do after swimming. There was already a place waiting for him in the family business long before he'd learned to hold his breath for two minutes at a time. Which made his life on Koh Samui a constant source of confusion for the people back home.
To himself, Est was mostly just a guy who spent eighty per cent of his life smelling faintly of chlorine, permanently hungry, and quietly grateful he'd managed to escape Bangkok. The city had never really felt like his. People seemed to know everything except the parts that actually mattered. The tabloids followed his competitions, his occasional nights out, and every rumored relationship with tireless enthusiasm. Photographers lingered outside his training center. Well-meaning family friends insisted on introducing him to daughters of wealthy families at charity dinners, each convinced they'd found the perfect match.
It was exhausting. Every public appearance came with expectations. Smile for the cameras. Say the right thing. Wear the right watch. Sit beside the right people. Somewhere along the way, Est had begun to feel less like a person and more like someone everyone else had already decided they knew.
Nathon, on the other hand, felt like a life he'd chosen for himself.
Most mornings began at five, when the western side of the island was still wrapped in the last traces of night and the air carried the salty dampness that disappeared as soon as the sun climbed higher. Est would throw on yesterday's hoodie, climb into his SUV, and make the familiar thirty-minute drive across the island to Bo Phut, where the roads slowly traded sleepy fishing villages for early-morning cafés and gyms unlocking their doors. By the time he slipped into the Olympic pool at the Royal Fight Club, the water was still cold enough to steal the breath from his lungs—a feeling he'd loved since he was a kid.
In the water, the rest of the world went quiet. There were no cameras waiting when he surfaced. No charity dinners. No conversations about board meetings disguised as family concern. Just the black line stretching beneath him. The steady pull of each stroke. The familiar burn in his shoulders and lungs. For an hour or two every morning, that was enough.
He could have spent his sponsorship money on an Italian sports car. He could have bought one of the luxury villas overlooking Chaweng—one of the very developments his parents' company had built. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was. He liked his beach house. He liked the dependable SUV that carried wet towels, surfboards, and groceries with equal enthusiasm. He liked the easy rhythm of life in Nathon. Out here, nobody cared who his parents were or how many medals he'd won.
He was just Est. The lifeguard who helped push stubborn fishing boats back into the water, drank an alarming number of iced coffees, and spent half his afternoons reminding children not to swim past the flags.
"Your left lat is tight enough to tow a speedboat," a gravelly voice observed somewhere above Est's shoulder. Est groaned into the face cradle.
"I blame yesterday's sprint set. Go easy on me, Tui." He sighed dramatically. "I'm getting old. My joints have started to sound like cereal bowls."
Tui snorted.
As Koh Samui's most sought-after physiotherapist, he spent all his time putting professional athletes back together again. Mornings were reserved for the Muay Thai fighters who wandered in bruised and limping from the gym. Afternoons usually belonged to Est, whose shoulders had spent the better part of two decades pushing through endless kilometers of chlorinated water.
Someone, Tui liked to remind him, had to keep them attached.
"You're twenty-seven, Est. Stop crying," Tui said, using his elbow to ruthlessly dig into a tight knot near Est's scapula, eliciting a muffled yelp from the swimmer. "Besides, if you want to retire, go ahead. I’ll just find a younger, less whiny swimmer to sponsor my caffeine habit. I hear there's a fifteen-year-old in Surat Thani who doesn't complain when I touch his shoulders."
"He doesn't know you yet," Est wheezed, his fingers gripping the edge of the vinyl table as Tui found another knot. "The moment you lay your iron claws on him, he’ll run back to his mother."
Ninety minutes later, Est climbed off the massage table feeling as though Tui had disassembled him, misplaced a few parts, and somehow still managed to put him back together better than before. They wandered across the courtyard to the little open-air café tucked beside the gym.
Lego was behind the counter. He had floppy bleached hair, today's linen shirt left unbuttoned just enough to suggest it was entirely intentional, and enough personality to fill the whole café before the first customer even walked through the door.
"Here's your liquid life support," Lego chirped, sliding a tall glass of cold brew over to Tui with a lingering touch of his fingers against Tui’s hand. He leaned over the counter, batting his eyelashes shamelessly, his linen shirt slipping off one shoulder. "On the house, of course. For my absolute favourite medical professional. You look absolutely devastating today, P'Tui. Did you do something to your hair? It looks exceptionally... rugged."
Tui didn't even blink, taking a slow sip of his coffee, though Est could see the tiny, amused twitch at the corner of the man's mouth. "I washed it, Lego. With soap. Like a normal human."
"So rugged," Lego sighed dramatically, clutching his chest as if he had just been struck by an arrow. "The bare minimum of hygiene, yet you make it sound like a personal invitation. Truly, a man of mystery." He turned his attention to Est, sliding a pale yellow protein smoothie toward him. "And for you, Est. The usual. Heavy on the banana, light on the existential dread."
"Thanks," Est laughed, pulling up a wooden barstool. His shoulders felt loose, almost liquid, though the sharp smell of chlorine still clung to his skin, competing with the rich scent of Lego’s freshly ground espresso and the damp earth of the potted ferns hanging from the rafters.
"So," Lego said, abandoning all pretense of working as he folded his arms across the counter and leaned in. In the space of a heartbeat, he shifted from shameless flirt to shameless gossip. "Is it true? Did Kaeo actually show up at your house again last night?"
Est’s hand froze on his straw. He let out an exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples, "Do you have a wire tapped to my front porch, Lego? Seriously. How do you even know that?"
"Nathon is a very small island, Est. Your neighbour’s aunt's cousin saw a very fancy BMW parked outside your villa at nine last night. It didn't take a detective to put the pieces together," Lego shrugged, "So? What did the cheating bastard want this time?"
"He's getting married next month," Est muttered, staring down at his smoothie. "To a woman. A very nice, very wealthy family in Chiang Mai."
"Right. The perfect, society-approved wedding," Tui chattered in, his voice dripping with disgust as he set his coffee cup down on the wooden counter. "The one his parents practically negotiated for him. The guy traded his backbone for a trust fund, and yet he’s still coming to bother you?"
"He told me he isn't over me," Est said, his voice dropping as he felt an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. "He sat on my steps, and actually had the audacity to say that his heart still belongs to me, but that he 'has to do this' for his family. He tried to hold my hand, Lego. I had to physically step back into my house and lock the screen door."
"The absolute gall," Lego gasped, his eyes wide. "The nerve of that man! After he literally cheated on you with two different fitness models in Bangkok? What did you do? Please tell me you threw your wet swim gear at him."
"I did what any rational person would do," Est said, taking a defensive sip of his drink. "I got her number from a mutual friend. I called his fiancée. I thought she had a right to know that her future husband was currently crying on a lifeguard's porch in Nathon."
Tui looked up, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "And?"
Est's face twisted into a look of lingering confusion, his mind still struggling to process the absurdity of the conversation. "She... she wasn't mad. At all. She laughed. She said she already knew Kaeo was a bit of a romantic wanderer, and that as long as he signed the prenuptial agreement, she didn't care where his heart wandered. And then—and I swear to you, I am not making this up—she told me that she thought I was incredibly hot. She asked if I wanted to join them. Like a third. As a... a package deal."
Lego’s jaw literally dropped. Tui slowly set his coffee cup down, staring at Est in stunned silence.
"A package deal?" Lego whispered, his eyes practically dinner plates. "Like... a throuple? A three-way thing?"
"I don't know!" Est groaned, burying his face in his hands, his ears burning with embarrassment. " She said, and I quote, 'Modern relationships are all about flexibility, Est. We’d love to have you on our team.' She used the word team like I was a free agent she wanted to sign for the season. I hung up the phone so fast I almost cracked my screen. Honestly, modern dating scares the hell out of me. If that's what's out there in the dating pool, I am perfectly happy dying alone."
Tui let out a rumbly laugh, patting Est's broad shoulder. "Well, at least you won't have to look far for medical help when your heart eventually gives out from the stress. By the way, I heard our medical complex finally got that new dentist. He’s moving in this week."
Est’s mind instantly flashed to a pair of wide, startled eyes hiding behind dark sunglasses—eyes that had stared at him from beneath a ridiculous bucket hat on the beach. "Oh. Yeah. William."
Lego’s gossip radar immediately pinged, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He sat up straight, leaning so far over the counter that his unbuttoned shirt practically swept the espresso machine. "William? You know him already? How? The man hasn't even opened his clinic yet."
"He's Phuwin’s brother-in-law," Est said, an involuntary smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he could stop it. "He’s been coming down to my section of the beach every afternoon for the past week."
"A dentist who goes to the beach?" Lego mused, tapping his chin with a manicured fingernail. "That seems... healthy. Normal."
"No, you don't understand," Est chuckled, shaking his head at the memory of the figure. "He doesn't go to the beach to go to the beach. He sets up this massive umbrella. He wears a long-sleeve swim shirt, cargo pants, a bucket hat, and enough sunscreen to make him look like a ghost. He sits there for hours, clutching this incredibly depressing book."
Lego looked intrigued, his eyes sparkling. "Is he a fast reader?"
"That’s the thing," Est smiled, his chest doing a warm flutter. "He's been on the same page since Tuesday. I watched him yesterday from the tower. The guy didn't turn a single page in forty minutes. He just stares out over the top of the book, looking at the water like it’s a monster waiting to drag him to the depths."
"Wait," Tui said, a knowing look creeping into his sharp eyes as he glanced between Est and Lego. "He doesn't go in the water at all? In this heat?"
"Not even a toe," Est said. "I went over to talk to him, offered to supervise a little ankle-dip, and he looked at me like I had just asked him to swim across the English Channel with a steak tied to his leg. He told me the tide was chaotic."
Lego let out a delighted squeal that drew the attention of a couple of Muay Thai fighters wrapping their hands across the courtyard. "Oh, my God. Est. An indoor creature who is terrified of the ocean? And he’s sitting in the sun just to watch you?"
"He's not watching me," Est protested, though his cheeks felt uncharacteristically warm. "He’s just... getting his vitamin D. That’s his official story."
"Right. Vitamin D," Lego teased, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "So... is he cute?"
Est stared at his smoothie. He thought about the elegant slope of William’s jawline, the way his dark hair looked when he finally took off that ridiculous bucket hat, and those intense eyes that seemed to look right through him. He thought about the delicate, pink blush that crept up William's neck whenever Est walked too close, and the way the dentist's fingers had trembled slightly against the cover of his book.
He cleared his throat, pushing his stool back. "No comment."
"He's cute!" Lego yelled triumphantly to the empty café. "Tui, he’s absolutely cute! Our boy has a crush!"
By late afternoon, the sun hung low over Nathon Beach, washing the bay in warm gold. The water shimmered so brightly it was almost painful to look at, while heat rose from the sand. The breeze carried the familiar mix of salt and the sweet scent of bananas frying at one of the street carts farther up the beach.
Est stood on the platform of his lifeguard tower, his binoculars hanging loose around his neck. He didn't need them to spot his favourite beach resident.
About fifty yards away, tucked safely beneath a massive canopy that stood out like a sore thumb against the rustic landscape, was William. True to form, he was wearing his long-sleeve UPF shirt, his cargo pants, his bucket hat, and his sunglasses.
Est smiled, jumping down from the wooden steps of the tower. The sand was hot beneath his bare feet, but he barely felt it as he jogged over to the small cooler at the base of his stand. He reached into the ice, digging past the water bottles until his fingers found what he was looking for: an icy bottle of fresh Lime soda.
He headed toward William's canopy at an unhurried pace, careful not to announce himself too suddenly. He'd learned over the past week that William startled surprisingly easily. Sure enough, the moment footsteps crunched across the sand, William's shoulders stiffened. Then came the book. With the speed of someone caught doing something mildly embarrassing, William snatched up his book and held it so close to his face that Est briefly wondered how he was managing to focus on the words.
He wasn't.
Est would have bet every medal he owned that William hadn't turned a single page in the last twenty minutes.
"You know," Est said, his voice low and teasing as he stepped into the dark shadow of the umbrella, "if you hold it any closer, you're going to get a paper cut on your nose, Doc."
William slowly lowered the book. Behind his sunglasses, Est could see his eyes darting around in panic. His collarbones, visible through the slightly open collar of his linen shirt, looked flushed.
"I..." William cleared his throat. "I was analysing the typography. The font," William continued, with growing confidence in what was objectively a terrible explanation. "It's... exceptionally well typeset. You don't really appreciate the kerning unless you examine it quite closely."
"Right.” Est smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he held out the icy Lime soda. "Here. You've been sitting out here for two hours, Doc. If you don't hydrate, I’m going to have to perform medical treatment on you for heat exhaustion, and honestly, I think we both know you'd hate the lack of sterile equipment on this tower."
William looked at the bottle. He reached out to take it, his fingers brushing against Est's hand.
It lasted no more than a second. The brush of William's fingers against his sent something unexpected skittering up Est's arm before settling somewhere beneath his ribs. William went completely still. His breath caught, soft but unmistakable. As he looked up, his sunglasses slipped just low enough for Est to catch a glimpse of his eyes—so completely unguarded that, for one moment, neither of them remembered to let go.
William was staring at him. Not just looking, but staring—his gaze tracing the damp curls sticking to Est's forehead, the curve of his broad shoulders, and finally landing on his lips.
Est didn't look away. If anything, his smile softened at the corners as he held William's gaze. Neither of them spoke. The waves continued their slow conversation with the shore, filling the silence without disturbing it. Est became acutely aware of his own heartbeat. It wasn't the familiar rhythm that came after a hard swim or a brutal training session. This was different. It had everything to do with the flustered dentist sitting beneath an oversized umbrella, looking back at him as though he'd forgotten what to do with his own thoughts.
"I... I should..." William whispered, his cheeks turning a vibrant shade of crimson that rivaled the setting sun. "The... the electrolyte in the lime soda is... much needed."
"Glad I could help," Est teased softly, leaning his hip against the metal pole of William’s chair, entirely too close, "See you tomorrow, William?"
"Y-Yes," William squeaked, his hand shaking slightly as he clutched the cold bottle to his chest. "Tomorrow."
Est laughed under his breath, gave William one last grin, and jogged back toward the lifeguard stand. He didn't look over his shoulder. He wanted to. Instead, he let himself wonder whether William was still watching. The thought alone was enough to make him smile. By the time he reached the tower, that inexplicable warmth was still sitting comfortably beneath his ribs. It should have worried him. Instead, he couldn't wait for tomorrow.
By the middle of the month, William had developed a theory about Nathon. The town simply refused to keep time the way the rest of the world did. Days unfolded according to the tides, the smell of bananas frying somewhere down the street, and, apparently, whatever hour the island's emergency personnel finally finished work. Nathon Dental had opened its doors two weeks earlier. The clinic was bright and airy, tucked into the newly renovated medical complex with too many windows, and an aggressively healthy collection of pothos plants courtesy of Phuwin, who had insisted, "A dentist without greenery looks like a supervillain waiting for his origin story."
The centerpiece was a gleaming new dental chair positioned directly in front of the windows. Which meant every patient enjoyed a sweeping view of Nathon Pier. And so, whether he liked it or not, did William.
To William's immense surprise, he wasn't just surviving. He was thriving. He'd expected the leap from a government hospital in Bangkok to a tiny clinic in Nathon to leave him feeling unsteady. Instead, it felt suspiciously like learning how to breathe again. The only adjustment he hadn't anticipated was the payment system. Money, it turned out, was only one of several accepted currencies on Koh Samui. Because the island seemed to run on decades' worth of neighborly favors and unspoken agreements, William's reception desk had become home to an increasingly eclectic collection of thank-you gifts. To preserve what remained of his accountant's soul, he'd started an Excel spreadsheet titled Unconventional Receivables.
On Tuesday, Auntie Som insisted on paying for her routine cleaning with a wicker basket overflowing with freshly picked rambutans. Before William could protest, she'd patted his cheek with a flour-dusted hand, declared—loud enough for the entire waiting room to hear—that he was far too pretty to be single, then cheerfully announced that she'd already asked Phuwin what William's type was. Armed with that information, she informed him she was keeping an eye out for a suitable husband among the local farming families.
On Thursday, a local fisherman whose molar William had managed to save from a truly spectacular abscess appeared with a cooler full of freshly caught red snapper packed in ice. Before William could even thank him, the man had disappeared, leaving behind a handwritten note tucked beneath the lid.
Good for the bones, Doctor.
"I am a licensed healthcare professional, not a medieval merchant," William muttered one afternoon, staring at a jar of honey that had been left on the reception desk in place of a co-pay. He was currently trying to work out how, exactly, one entered a jar of locally harvested honey into standard accounting software. The spreadsheet, rather unhelpfully, did not have a category for bee products.
Nut, who had wandered over from his veterinary clinic next door still wearing scrub pants and a t-shirt covered in what looked suspiciously like parrot dander, snorted. He reached into William's desk drawer, stole a clinical pen with a customized plush tooth on the cap, and used it to scratch behind his ear.
"Get used to it, Doctor. Next week is the durian harvest. If you perform a successful root canal during durian season, you won't be able to breathe in this office for a month. You’ll be drowning in custard-flavored hand-grenades," Nut remarked, leaning his hip against the reception desk. "Also, do you have any spare gauze? A very angry goose named Dum just tried to fight a weed-whacker down by the canal, and she's currently leading what appears to be a one-bird protest movement on my examination table. She's already bit my assistant twice."
"Take the entire box," William sighed, sliding a sleeve of sterile non-woven sponges across the desk. "And please, I beg of you, tell me you're not going to let Dum anywhere near my waiting room. My patients are already intimidated by the sound of the suction line."
"No promises," Nut chattered in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "If Dum decides she wants a secondary consultation on her beak alignment, I'm sending her straight through the connecting door."
Nut’s teasing was cut short by the soft chime of the clinic’s front door.
William's heart gave the now-familiar, little jump that seemed to occur whenever Est appeared without warning. He had yet to find a satisfactory explanation for it. Est stepped into the clinic carrying a cardboard tray with two tall iced coffees from Lego's café. His T-shirt still clung faintly to his shoulders, and his damp hair curled at the edges, as though he'd come straight from the water. He looked unfairly good.
"Delivery," Est said, his warm baritone instantly filling the quiet space of the office. He smiled, his eyes crinkling in that pretty way that made William's brain completely lose its grip on whatever thought it had been holding. "Lego said you looked like you are one inconvenient patient away from short-circuiting today, so he sent me with some cold brew. He also said if I didn't deliver it personally, he’d charge me double for my protein shakes next week."
"Lego is a menace to society," William murmured, though his hand was already reaching for the iced coffee. The plastic cup was freezing against his palms, "I am not short-circuiting. I am perfectly balanced."
"Right. Perfectly balanced," Nut echoed, looking between Est and William with a slow grin that made William want to pelt him with the jar of wild honey. Nut tucked the box of gauze securely under his arm. "Well, I’ll leave you two to discuss... dental hygiene. Or whatever it is you do when you stare at each other for ten seconds without blinking. I have a highly combative waterfowl to negotiate with."
"Nut, go back to your birds," William warned, his face warming rapidly.
Nut just laughed, giving Est a friendly slap on the shoulder as he sauntered out the door.
Est chuckled, walking over to lean against the edge of William’s reception desk. Up close, he smelled like eucalyptus, and the faint trace of the coconut water he’d been drinking earlier. "He's not wrong, you know. You do look a little tense. Have you been sitting at this desk all day?"
"I have been documenting patient files," William said defensively, taking a desperate sip of the cold brew. It was perfect—sweet, strong, and icy. "And I am a doctor, Est. Tense is my default setting."
"Come here," Est said softly, gesturing toward the empty dental chair in the exam room.
William blinked, his cup hovering halfway to his mouth. "Why?"
"Just come here."
Against his better judgment—and he had a lot of judgment—William stood up and followed him into the bright room. The afternoon light was pouring through the massive glass pane. Est patted the leather headrest of the patient chair.
"Sit. Let’s see what it feels like from the other side. You spend all day hovering over people. You need to lie down."
"I don't need to sit—"
"William. Sit down. Doctor's orders. Or, well, lifeguard's orders."
With a sigh, William leaned back into the chair. The moment his head met the cushioned headrest, he realized how tired his shoulders really were. The ache had become so familiar he'd stopped noticing it—years of bending over patients, of holding himself perfectly still for hours at a time, settling into his muscles one careful procedure after another. Beyond the windows, Nathon Pier stretched across the bay. The afternoon sun scattered across the water until it glittered like spilled glass, while a handful of weathered fishing boats rocked lazily against the docks. For once, William found himself looking at the view before he remembered to look away.
Est stood beside the chair. He looked down at William, his eyes soft, curious, and entirely too close. "So. How’s the view?"
"The view is... acceptable," William whispered, his throat suddenly tight. He wasn't looking at the ocean. He was looking at the golden dusting of freckles across Est’s nose. He was looking at the way the light caught the strong line of Est’s jaw, the relaxed curve of his mouth.
"Just acceptable?" Est teased, leaning a fraction closer, his hand resting on the armrest of the chair, his fingers just inches from William’s. "I figured you'd appreciate the pier,"
"The pier is beautiful," William managed, his heartbeat doing thoroughly unhelpful things inside his chest. "The water beneath it, however, is still wildly unpredictable." He frowned at the bay beyond the window.
Est’s smile softened, his eyes dropping to William's lips for a split second before returning to his eyes. "We’re working on that. Step by step, Doc."
As the weeks slipped by, those small steps accumulated until even William could no longer keep track of them. Their evenings settled into a routine that both of them insisted was absolutely not a date. Most nights, they'd end up at Hong's restobar, claiming the table tucked into the corner of the deck. Hong would appear with their food wearing the long-suffering expression of a man personally burdened by other people's romantic incompetence.
Across the bar, Nut made no attempt whatsoever to lower his voice. "I'd like to request additional funding for the mutual pining department," he'd announce.
Hong, without missing a beat, would sigh. "We're over budget already."
Even Pond and Phuwin had stopped pretending they weren't thoroughly entertained. One evening, after surviving a particularly exhausting day, Pond collapsed onto the porch swing next to William.
The night air was cool, carrying the sweet scent of blooming night-jasmine and the soothing rumble of the waves.
"You look different, Lil' Will," Pond murmured, his eyes closed as he drank in the evening breeze.
"Different how?" William asked, keeping his eyes on the textbook in his lap despite having not absorbed a single sentence in the last ten minutes. "Am I developing a melanoma? I knew I should've reapplied my sunscreen on Tuesday. The UV index was eight, and with the humidity—"
"Oh, for God's sake." Pond laughed and reached over to ruffle William's hair, a gesture so familiar it caught him off guard. "No, you idiot, You look like you're actually breathing. Your shoulders aren't up around your ears anymore. You're happy here, aren't you?"
William lifted his gaze to the dark stretch of lawn beyond the porch, the steady hush of the waves drifting in on the night air. He thought of Auntie Som and her unsolicited matchmaking updates. Of Hong and Nut chattering so often it had become the soundtrack to dinner. Of Lego appearing with an iced coffee before William had realized he needed one.
And, inevitably, he thought of Est.
Of shoulders brushing his as they wandered back to the car. Of warm hands that always seemed to find his elbow when the path grew uneven, even though William had never once stumbled. Of the way Est smiled whenever he spotted him across the beach, as though seeing William was simply the best part of his afternoon.
"I am," William said quietly. The words surprised him with how easily they came. "I really am, P'Pond."
Pond smiled, looking altogether too pleased with himself. "Good," he said. "Because Phuwin's been threatening to write a romance novel about a grumpy dentist who falls in love with the local lifeguard."
William closed his eyes.
"Oh no."
"Oh yes." Pond nodded solemnly. William groaned.
"Please tell P'Phuwin that if he ever publishes that book, I will find a perfectly legitimate reason to ban him from my practice."
By the end of the month, the dry season had settled over Koh Samui in earnest. The afternoons stretched long and golden, the heat lingering over the island with the lazy confidence of something that knew it wasn't leaving anytime soon. Even Nathon Beach had gone quiet. Most of the tourists had retreated to beach bars, cafés, or anywhere with reliable air-conditioning, leaving the shoreline to the locals and the occasional determined sunbather. William occupied his usual spot beneath his oversized canopy chair. He still had on the bucket hat and sunglasses. The sunscreen remained non-negotiable. But today, his linen shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. By William's standards, it was a startling act of recklessness.
His Scandinavian thriller was open in his lap. He was on page forty-three. He had been on page forty-three for three days.
A shadow fell over him, blocking out the glare.
William looked up to find Est standing at the edge of his canopy. He wasn't wearing his lifeguard shirt today—just his swim trunks, his chest damp and glistening with seawater and droplets tracing an unhurried path over sun-warmed skin. His brain promptly abandoned every useful thought it had ever possessed.
"Beautiful day for a swim," Est said, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he gestured toward the turquoise bay.
William didn't even blink. "Respectfully," he said, "absolutely not."
Est laughed, the sound carrying easily over the slow rhythm of the waves. Without a second thought, he dropped down onto the sand beside William's chair, paying no attention to the grains clinging to his damp legs. Resting his forearms against the armrest, he tipped his head back to look at William. There was something disarmingly gentle about his expression. Far too gentle for two people who were, according to both of them, casual.
"Come on, William. Just five minutes. Look at it. There are no waves today. The water is as flat as a swimming pool."
"A swimming pool is chemically treated, contained, and largely predictable," William pointed out, hugging his book a little closer. "The ocean is an enormous petri dish populated by creatures with teeth"
"Do you trust me?" Est asked.
The question wasn't a joke. The teasing smile eased from Est's face, leaving behind something patient. He held William's gaze without rushing to fill the silence. William's throat suddenly felt very dry. His eyes dropped, almost of their own accord, to Est's hands. They were familiar now. Hands that had caught his elbow when he'd nearly tripped over a piece of driftwood yesterday. Hands that kept appearing at his clinic with iced coffee from Lego's café. Hands that had somehow, over the course of a month, coaxed William farther from routines than he'd ever imagined he'd go.
When he looked back up, Est was still watching him.
Waiting.
He realised that he didn't just trust Est to keep him safe in the water. He trusted him with everything.
"I..." William swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I trust you."
"Then let's go," Est said, standing up and holding out his hand.
William stared at the hand Est was offering him. Sunlight caught the beads of seawater still clinging to Est's skin, scattering little flashes of light every time he shifted. Very carefully, William closed his book and laid it on the chair beside him. He slipped off his sunglasses, then reached for the hem of his linen shirt. His bucket hat followed. The moment he stepped out from beneath the canopy, the afternoon sun settled warm against his skin. Sand gave way beneath his bare feet, and his pulse lurched somewhere between terror and exhilaration. He looked at Est. Then, before he could change his mind, he reached for his hand.
Est led him down the beach at an easy pace, instinctively shortening his stride to match William's. When they reached the wet sand, William slowed. The dry beach gave way to a darker strip where the tide reached in gentle waves, smoothing the sand before slipping back again.William stopped. His toes curled instinctively. For weeks, this had been as far as he'd ever come. The line between dry sand and sea had always felt like a perfectly sensible place to turn around.
"I'm right here," Est murmured, his fingers tightening gently around William’s, his palm warm and solid. "I've got you, William. Just one step."
William took a breath, closed his eyes for a split second, and stepped forward. He felt the first rush of water wash over his feet.
It was... warm. Soft. It didn't instantly dissolve his skin, nor did a giant crab rise from the depths to drag him to a watery grave. It was just cool weight lapping gently against his ankles, rinsing away the dry sand.
"See?" Est smiled, his voice incredibly soft as he guided them a few steps further into the shallow bay. "You're not drowning."
"I am currently submerged to my shins," William whispered, his eyes locked entirely on Est's face, completely terrified to look down at the shifting ground.
"Keep going," Est coaxed, walking backward into the shallow bay, gently pulling William with him.
The water rose to William’s knees, the gentle tug of the tide swaying his balance. His hands instinctively reached out, finding purchase on Est's broad shoulders. The contact was electric, a sudden jolt of heat that ran straight down William's spine. Est’s hands immediately came up to rest on William's waist, his grip firm.
"Est," William gasped, his chest heaving as he stared at the water droplet at Est's collarbone. "This is... I am in the ocean."
"You are," Est whispered. A breathless smile played on his lips as he stared down at William. His eyes traced the delicate pink blush creeping up William's neck, the way his dark hair was slightly damp from the sea air, and finally, his lips. "You're doing great, Doc. You're practically a natural."
"I'm only doing this because..." William’s voice trailed off, his heart pounding so hard he was sure Est could feel the vibration through his chest.
"Because why?" Est murmured. He leaned in, just a fraction, his hands on William's waist pulling him closer until their chests were almost touching.
The distance between them was dissolving, shrinking to mere millimeters. William could see the golden flecks in Est's eyes, could feel the warm breath on his lips. He let his eyes flutter closed, leaning in, his fingers curling into Est’s shoulders. It was going to happen. Right here, in the middle of the ocean, William was going to—
"LOOK AT ME, P'EST! I’M A FLYING SQUIRREL!"
A high-pitched shriek shattered the silence of the cove.
Both William and Est froze, their noses literally millimeters apart.
Ten yards away, near the concrete breakwater, a local teenager—specifically, Lego's fourteen-year-old cousin, who was notorious for having absolutely zero self-preservation instincts and a dangerous love for internet stunt videos—had managed to climb onto a slippery, moss-covered rock holding a giant inflatable pool noodle. He was currently wobbling precariously on one foot, preparing to launch himself headfirst into a shallow, rock-filled tide pool.
"Wait, no! Don't jump!" Est yelled, his lifeguard reflexes instantly overriding his romantic desires.
He looked back at William, his face a mixture of horror, apology, and panic. "William, I am so sorry—I have to—he's going to crack his skull wide open—"
"Go!" William gasped, stumbling back a step as Est reluctantly let go of his waist.
With a powerful splash, Est turned and sprinted through the shallow water, his long strides eating up the distance in seconds as he screamed at the kid to step down from the rocks.
William stood alone in the knee-deep water, the gentle tide lapping against his linen pants, his hands still carrying the residual warmth of Est's skin. He stared at the teenager, who was now being sternly lectured by a thoroughly exasperated Olympian.
William let out a long resentful breath.
Fuck kids, he thought with conviction, staring at the green pool noodle. And honestly? Fuck the dangers of the water.
As he looked down at his submerged legs, realizing he was still standing in the middle of the ocean and wasn't even panicking, a helpless laugh bubbled up in his chest. He was hopelessly a goner.
By the last weekend of the month, Nathon had slipped into the cheerful chaos that always seemed to accompany a small-town wedding. It was the kind of community-wide event where even the local street vendors shut down early, leaving hand-written signs on their carts that read Gone to watch the boys get hitched, and the entire beach seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of the impending spectacle.
To absolutely no one's surprise, Hong and Nut's wedding was equal parts beautiful and gloriously chaotic. The ceremony was held on the beach, just beyond Hong's Place, beneath a driftwood arch woven with white orchids and feathery pampas grass that swayed gently in the sea breeze. Someone had painstakingly cleared the sand of every stray coconut husk, and neat rows of weathered wooden chairs faced the calm, sapphire sweep of the bay.
Their groom-to-groom dynamic, unsurprisingly, remained intact even during the vows, though beneath the teasing was something so tender it left more than a few guests reaching discreetly for tissues.
Hong went first. "I used to think loving someone meant finding the person who made life easy," he said, his fingers wrapped securely around Nut's. "Then I met you, and I realized I'd been looking for the wrong thing. Life with you isn't always quiet. We argue over smoothie recipes, your color-coded calendars, and whether kale deserves better." Soft laughter drifted through the crowd. "But every single morning, I wake up grateful that you're the first person I get to annoy. Thank you for making every ordinary day feel like home. I'll keep choosing you—on the easy days, the impossible days, and every wonderfully chaotic day in between."
By the time Hong finished, Nut was already blinking suspiciously fast.
When it was his turn, he cleared his throat twice before speaking.
"I've spent my entire life fixing things," he admitted quietly. "Animals. People. Schedules. Problems that nobody else wanted to deal with. I always thought love would be another thing I had to manage." He looked at Hong and smiled, "Instead, you became the one place where I never had to be perfect."
The beach had gone completely silent.
"You remind me to eat when I'm working too much. You make me laugh when I'm trying very hard not to. You somehow know exactly when I need advice and when I just need someone to sit beside me without saying a word." His thumb brushed gently across Hong's knuckles. "You've loved every difficult part of me without ever asking me to become someone easier. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay that."
Hong's eyes had already filled with tears.
"So I'll do the next best thing," Nut whispered, his voice wavering into a smile. "I'll spend the rest of my life trying."
Beside William, Pond let out a wet sniffle, quickly dabbing at his eyes with a linen handkerchief, while Phuwin leaned his head against Pond's shoulder, holding a sleeping Piya in his lap. But William’s focus, for the better part of the ceremony, was utterly compromised.
Est was sitting right next to him.
William had spent most of the ceremony trying very hard not to look at Est for longer than was socially acceptable. It was Hong and Nut's vows, however, that undid him. There was no grand declaration. No impossible promise. Just two people standing barefoot on the sand, speaking about choosing each other again and again. William felt something inside him loosen. For years, he'd believed happiness had to be earned through perfect grades, perfect work, perfect composure. That love, if it ever came at all, would surely demand the same relentless performance. But listening to Hong and Nut, he realized it wasn't about perfection. It was about finding the one person who made an ordinary day feel like somewhere you wanted to stay.
Without thinking, his eyes drifted toward Est.
The lifeguard was watching the ceremony with an unguarded smile, applauding as Hong slipped the ring onto Nut's finger, looking so genuinely happy for them that William's chest tightened. He let himself wonder what it might feel like to stand where they were someday. The thought should have terrified him. Instead, it settled quietly beneath his ribs, warm and unfamiliar, carrying with it a hope he hadn't realized he'd been missing.
As the ceremony gave way to celebration, the beach dissolved into a cheerful blur of clinking champagne flutes, overlapping conversations, and Lego attempting to organize a group photograph while Tui watched the entire spectacle with the resigned expression of a man who had predicted this outcome twenty minutes earlier.
Across the crowd, Est found William's gaze.
He tipped his head ever so slightly toward the quiet stretch of shoreline that curved away to the west, untouched by the growing bustle around the reception.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The look said: Let's escape.
William didn't hesitate. He simply stepped away from the noise of the reception and fell into stride beside Est, hands tucked into his pockets as they wandered along the water's edge. Somehow, without either of them saying a word, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, leaving the joyful music of the wedding band and the clinking of glasses behind. The sound of the crowd slowly faded, replaced by the sigh of the tide and the soft hush-hush of the warm water lapping against the shore. The sun was beginning its descent, painting the western sky in bruised plums and a brilliant gold that turned the sea into a sheet of glowing copper.
They walked in silence, their footsteps leaving twin trails in the damp sand as the tide curled lazily around the shoreline. Between them, their hands swung with each unhurried step, separated by only a few inches. Gradually, almost without either of them seeming to notice, the distance began to disappear. Est's hand drifted closer. William felt the faintest brush of knuckles.
Then, with a tentative, questioning gentleness, Est extended his pinky finger, hooking it around William’s.
William's heart lurched. He didn't pull away. Instead, almost shyly, his fingers curled around Est's. Est's hand answered without hesitation, their fingers settling together as though they'd been finding each other for far longer than a single afternoon. Neither of them spoke. They simply kept walking, hand in hand, their joined shadows stretching across the damp sand while the tide whispered quietly at the edge of the shore.
It was such a small thing. And somehow, it felt like the bravest thing William had done in years.
"You see that place over there?" Est asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence between them. Without letting go of William's hand, he lifted his free one and pointed toward a secluded stretch of beach tucked behind a cluster of smooth granite boulders, worn round by years of wind and tide.
Half-hidden by leaning coconut palms was a stunning beach villa. It was unpretentious, and completely private, with a wide porch that sat just yards from the quiet tide. The house seemed to grow naturally out of the shoreline, its wide glass windows reflecting the brilliant violet and rose-gold of the sunset.
"My home," Est said with a self-conscious smile, nodding toward the secluded cove.
William smiled, his eyes tracing the beautiful lines of the house. "It's beautiful, Est. It suits you."
"It's peaceful," Est said softly. He came to an easy stop and turned to face William, their little fingers still loosely hooked together. For a moment, they simply stood there. The tide slipped around their ankles in gentle waves, the water so clear that William could see the pale sand beneath the surface. Each ripple erased their footprints almost as quickly as they appeared, smoothing the shoreline as though they'd never been there at all. Est glanced down at the water before looking back at William. "Do you want to get in?"
William blinked, his throat suddenly tight. He looked down at his tailored linen trousers. "The... the water?"
"Yeah," Est whispered, his honey-colored eyes holding William's. "Just a quick dip. To wash off the wedding starch. We could dry off at my house before we have to go back for dinner. No one will even know we're gone. I promise I won't let you drift to Surat Thani."
William looked at the ocean, then at his neat trousers, and finally at Est. He thought of the man who had spent a month carrying cold drinks to his canopy, the man who had held him steady in the shallows, the man who had patiently shown him that the world didn't have to be sterile to be safe.
"Okay," William said, his voice surprisingly steady, "Let's do it."
Est unbuttoned his blue linen shirt and shrugged it from his shoulders, draping it over a smooth granite boulder before stepping out of his trousers. William's breath caught. He'd seen Est in swim trunks nearly every day for the past month, yet somehow the sight never lost its effect. There was an effortless strength to him, broad shoulders narrowing to a lean waist. It wasn't perfection that unsettled William so much as how completely at ease Est seemed in his own body.
Determined not to stare like a complete fool, William busied himself with removing his own shirt and trousers. Old habits refused to die; he folded each piece carefully before placing them neatly beside Est's clothes on the granite. The small, domestic gesture felt strangely intimate, as though, without either of them saying a word, he'd accepted Est's quiet invitation to share this little corner of the island.
Standing on the edge of the shore in just their boxer shorts, the cool evening air brushed against William’s skin, sending a brief shiver through him. But the heat radiating from Est, standing just inches away, was overwhelming, acting as a natural shield against the chill.
"Ready?" Est asked softly, holding out his hand.
"Ready," William whispered.
They stepped into the water together.
It was incredibly warm—almost like a heated pool—soft and silky as it rose to their knees, then their thighs. The sensation of the water wrapping around his skin usually triggered a cascade of anxious thoughts in William's mind, but today, his focus was entirely occupied by the warm grip of Est’s hand in his.
With a laugh, Est suddenly dropped back and plunged beneath the surface, rising a second later with his hair slicked back, his hair clinging to his forehead, and his face glowing in the warm sunset light.
"Come on, Doc!" Est teased, splashing a gentle wave of warm water toward William’s chest.
"Est, stop!" William laughed, throwing an arm over his face as another splash caught him squarely across the chest. "My eyes are completely unprotected!"
They played like kids for a few minutes, splashing, dodging, and laughing in the shallow, golden surf. But as the splashing slowed, the space between them began to shrink.
The water was up to their chests now, the gentle swell of the tide swaying their bodies, pushing them closer with every wave. William stopped splashing. He stood steady in the water, his eyes locked onto Est. The golden hour light was hitting Est’s face perfectly. William simply let himself feel.
He stepped forward, his feet finding purchase on the sandy bottom. He reached out through the water, his hands finding the curve of Est’s waist. He gripped him firmly, his fingers digging into the warm skin.
Est’s breath hitched. His hands immediately came up to rest on William’s shoulders.
"William," Est whispered, his voice thick and rough, his eyes dropping to William's wet lips before rising back to his eyes.
"I don't know how to explain this," William admitted quietly, "I've spent my whole life believing that if I understood something then I wouldn't have to be afraid of it."
He looked down at the gentle water moving around their legs before lifting his eyes back to Est's. "When I first came here, I couldn't stop thinking about everything that could go wrong. The sun was too bright. The sand got everywhere. The ocean felt endless." A small embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Now, when I look out at the water, I think about you. I think about the afternoons we spent talking. I think about walking beside you, and laughing with you, and how easy everything feels when you're around." His smile softened into something wonderfully vulnerable. "I don't know when that happened. I just know that somewhere along the way, this place started feeling like home."
He swallowed, his heart beating so hard it almost hurt.
"I love this place, Est," William whispered, his gaze completely sincere. "But mostly... I love it because of you. I'm completely, hopelessly in love with you."
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. A slow smile spread across Est's face, beginning almost imperceptibly before growing into something so impossibly relieved, that it stole what little breath William had left.
Est let out a laugh, shaking his head as though he'd been waiting to hear those words for far longer than a month.
"Took you long enough, Doc," Est murmured.
With a decisive pull, Est closed the remaining distance. His hands slid up from William’s shoulders, burying themselves deep into the damp hair at the back of William’s neck, and pulled him in.
Their lips met.
The kiss was everything William hadn't prepared for. It was hot, wet, and aggressively passionate. The gentle tide swelled around them, pushing their bodies together, but they didn't care. They were locked together, a solid mass in the middle of a moving sea. William’s hands slid up Est’s bare back, his fingers tracing the strong line of his spine, pulling him so close their chests molded together, the rapid beats of their hearts syncing up.
Est kissed him with a desperate hunger, his lips parting William’s. They spun slowly in the shallow bay, completely lost in each other, the water lapping against their shoulders as the sky turned a romantic violet above them. William let his hands slide into Est's damp hair, holding him closer, deepening the kiss until both of them were airtight and breathless, their minds completely quieted of any doubts or fears.
When they finally broke apart for air, their foreheads rested together, both of them breathing heavily, their lips swollen and their eyes bright with joy.
Est let out a breathless laugh, kissing the tip of William's nose before wrapping his arms tightly around William's waist, pulling him flush against his chest.
"I've got you," Est whispered into his hair, "I've always got you, William."
William smiled, burying his face into the warm curve of Est's neck, listening to the gentle lap of the waves against the shore and the comforting beat of Est's heart beneath his cheek.
Nathon was a great many things to William. It was the place where he had learned that happiness could be quiet, ordinary, and found in the smallest routines. It was where he'd finally remembered how to breathe.
But above all else, it was where he had met the love of his life.