It had been one month since I walked away from Paing Say Yan's company.
One month of quiet.
I had already turned down the job offer from Bangkok.
Right now, I had no idea what to do with my future.
Thank God I had enough savings—thanks to the part-time jobs I juggled back in the UK during those four years of studying. Every pound earned, every hour worked, felt worth it now, at least for this temporary breath of freedom.
For the first week, I didn't go out much. I just stayed home.
Home.
I helped my mom with small chores, ate all her delicious homemade food, and finally caught up on the Korean dramas and anime I missed while buried in lectures, night shifts, and heartbreaks.
It was a simple life.
And I loved it.
My mom even joked, half-serious, that I should forget about corporate life and just help her with her Burmese dress shop in the mall. And I thought about it. I really did. But a part of me still couldn't throw away my degree like that.
Still, what choice did I have?
I couldn't go back to Paing's company—no way in hell. And applying to other firms? What if he followed through on his threats and ruined those places too?
So I waited. Rested.
Let my heart and my mind breathe.
Even if just for a little while.
But rest didn't mean peace.
Because Paing Say Yan still called me.
Every. Single. Day.
Sometimes just once. Sometimes five or six times.
I didn't pick up. Not often. Because whenever I did, it always ended the same way, the same conversation—my anger boiling, my voice shaking, and the phone call cutting off with no resolution.
And when I ignored his calls for more than three days, he showed up.
At my house.
In front of my door.
Waiting.
I stayed silent. Hidden. Watching him through the curtains like some coward, heart racing, pretending I wasn't home, or I went out with my mom.
He waited there for thirty minutes sometimes. Just standing. No knocking after the first few tries. Then, quietly, he'd leave.
Other days, when I went out with my mom to her shop in the mall, he showed up there instead—with arms full of snacks and food, pretending he was just "visiting Auntie."
I couldn't avoid him then.
Not without revealing everything to my mom.
So I smiled. Played along. Answered his small talk with polite nods. Pretended everything was okay.
Even though inside, I was screaming.
What the hell is wrong with my life?
Why can't I just be free?
It was one of those lazy afternoons.
I was home alone, sprawled on the sofa like a sluggish snake, a half-eaten bag of potato chips resting on my stomach, eyes glued to the K-drama playing on my laptop. The main lead had just confessed dramatically when my phone buzzed with a FaceTime call. I glanced at the screen.
Myo Kaung.
From Bangkok.
I sat up a little, brushing crumbs off my shirt, and hit accept.
"What's up, my boyyyyy!" Myo Kaung's face filled the screen, grinning like always.
I grinned back. "Yoooo! Damn, it's been so long! I heard you're in Bangkok now, huh? When did that happen?"
"Not long after you left Myanmar, actually," he replied, lounging somewhere that looked like a café. "I'm doing my Master's here and helping out with the family business. But—hey, don't change the subject! How could you disappear on us for so long? I thought you forgot all about me!"
I laughed, a little sheepish. "How could I? You know I barely have any friends. You and Myo Thant are my only real ones."
He raised an eyebrow. "Then explain how you went four years without contacting us, huh? And when you came back to Myanmar, you didn't even tell us! If Myo Thant hadn't bumped into you by chance, were you planning to ghost us forever or what?"
"Okay, okay—I'm sorry!" I held my hands up in mock surrender. "I'll treat you to something good when you come back to Myanmar. That's a promise."
"Forget that—" he leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowing. "I heard you were working with Paing Say Yan. So… that means you two are okay now? I mean, we all know you left Myanmar suddenly because of him. You never said why, but I'm glad you're on good terms again."
I paused, then shook my head slowly. "No, we're not. I already resigned from his company. It's been a while now. I don't want anything to do with him anymore… we're not even friends."
Myo Kaung blinked, taken aback. "What? You and Paing Say Yan? Not friends? That's… that's unbelievable. You two were inseparable back in the day. Everyone knew how much you cared about each other. We even asked Paing what happened but he never said anything. Not a word."
I looked away for a moment. "It's… complicated. A long story. I'll tell you when we meet, okay? When are you coming back to Myanmar?"
He shrugged. "Not sure yet. But now that you're back, maybe it's time I started thinking about it. Oh—and since you said you resigned… you're free right now, aren't you?"
"Yup. Just lazing around at home like a retired grandpa."
He burst out laughing. "Then why don't you come to Bangkok and visit me? Just do it! Don't worry about where to stay—you can crash at my apartment. And I can feed you free meals for at least a year. "
I laughed. "Damn, that's a sweet deal. Tempting! I'll think about it."
He rolled his eyes. "'Think'? No, just pack your bags and come already! I'll be waiting."
We ended up chatting for another half hour, mostly about random stuff—school memories, manga, anime we never finished. The kind of conversation that leaves you smiling long after it ends.
After we hung up, I leaned back with a sigh and a soft smile tugging at my lips.
I felt… lighter.
If I were being honest, between the twins, I'd always been closer to Myo Kaung. He was my safe space, my chaos buddy, the guy who got me without needing explanations. Back in school, while Paing Say Yan and Myo Thant were busy with football club, me and Myo Kaung were the nerds geeking out in the anime club—discussing One Piece theories and arguing over which character would win in a fight.
Yeah, he was the kind of friend you didn't have to see every day to know you'd always be welcome.
And honestly? Right now, that warmth was exactly what I needed.
Flashback – High School, Late Afternoon
The school bell had rung over an hour ago, but the four of us remained, tucked into the far corner of canteen.
Myo Thant and Myo Kaung were locked in some casual bickering over a phone game, their laughter bouncing off the tiled walls. I was half-sprawled in my seat, a book resting on my knees, music humming gently in one ear.
The world outside was moving, but mine had narrowed to the boy pressed against my side.
Paing Say Yan.
He had somehow claimed the space beside me without asking, resting his entire weight against my shoulder as if I were furniture—his head tilted gently, brown hair brushing my neck.
"Paing, stop leaning on me. You're heavy," I muttered, shifting slightly to push him off with my elbow.
But instead of backing off, he only pressed closer, exhaling dramatically like I'd wounded him.
"Ahhh, my babe… don't be so mean. You know I'm sick… Have some pity, hmm?" His voice was soft, teasing, laced with fake suffering and just the tiniest tremor of real fatigue.
He looked up at me with those absurdly large puppy eyes—round, warm, and entirely shameless.
I sighed, but it wasn't out of frustration.
It was to calm my racing heart.
"I already took care of you last night, didn't I?" I said gently, turning toward him despite myself. My hand moved on its own, brushing his fringe aside and resting against his forehead.
His skin was warm—feverish, maybe—but not worryingly so. Still, the contact made something twist inside me. Something soft. Something stupid.
Myo Kaung raised a brow from across the table. "Paing Say Yan, did you sleep at Ngwe's house again?"
Myo Thant groaned. "Why are you always troubling my poor friend, huh?"
Their teasing was light, familiar, harmless. But I felt Paing shift beside me.
He didn't even look at them. "That's not your business. Maybe you two are just jealous you don't have someone like Ngwe to take care of you when you are sick."
I ducked my head quickly to hide my smile.
The truth was—I liked taking care of him. I just didn't know what that meant. Or what I was allowed to hope for.
"Ngwe, what song are you listening to?" Paing asked suddenly, his voice right at my ear.
Before I could answer, he reached over and tugged one of my earbuds free, slipping it into his own ear like it belonged to him.
I froze.
Our heads were close now, almost brushing. His shoulder was still against mine, but now our breath mingled too.
He listened for a few seconds, his brow quirking. "What is this? I don't even know it."
"Of course you don't. You don't even like music" I rolled my eyes, trying to act unfazed. "It's called 'I Wanna Be Yours.' Arctic Monkeys."
The music pulsed softly between us, filling the space.
I wanna be your vacuum cleaner
Breathing in your dust…
I wanna be your Ford Cortina
I will never rust…
Our eyes met—quietly, naturally, like it was meant to happen.
And for the first time that day, everything else blurred.
His gaze wasn't teasing now. It wasn't dramatic or flirty or proud. It was… still. Focused. Deep. Like he was seeing something I didn't realize I'd shown.
My breath caught in my throat.
The music faded into the background, and all I could hear was my own heartbeat pounding like a drum against my ribs. My stomach flipped. My fingers twitched. The air between us grew thick—too heavy for something as simple as friendship.
I felt the blood rush to my ears.
Could he hear it? Could he feel how fast my heart was racing?
His eyes didn't move away. He didn't speak. He just kept looking.
God.
I wanted to look away—but I couldn't.
The world had melted to a single frame: me and him, sharing music, sharing silence, sharing something I couldn't yet name.
I wanted to stay in that moment forever.
I wanted him to stay mine for just a little longer.
"Paing Say Yan!"
A girl's voice—shrill, furious, echoing across the canteen.
We all froze. I felt Paing shift beside me, and in the next second, a girl came storming toward us, her schoolbag bouncing against her hip, her face flushed with rage.
She didn't slow down.
She didn't even blink.
SLAP.
Her palm hit Paing Say Yan's cheek so hard, we all flinched. Even the birds on the canteen roof scattered.
Paing didn't move. He slowly turned his face back toward her, a dangerous calm in his sharp eyes, like a lion disturbed mid-nap.
No one spoke. My heart thudded in my chest.
"I've been worried sick about you since yesterday!" the girl shouted, voice shaking. "I heard you were down with a fever—I called you so many times last night, but not even a single reply! And today? I ran all over the school thinking you were in the hospital, and here you are—flirting with some boy?!"
She threw a glance at me. That look—like I was dirt. Like I was something rotten she had stepped on.
Before I could even process, she lunged toward me, arm raised.
But Paing was faster.
He stepped in front of me like a shield, his back firm and broad, blocking her completely. His hand slightly stretched behind him, making sure I stayed back.
At the same time, Myo Kaung and Myo Thant moved too, both standing at either side of me, protective and tense.
I felt my stomach drop with guilt. Last night… it was true. Paing had been sleeping at my house, sick with a fever, and I had muted his phone so he could rest. That's why he hadn't answered her calls.
This was my fault.
I looked down at my shoes, unable to meet anyone's eyes.
"What the hell are you saying, Khin?" Paing's voice was low and venomous now. "If you have something to say, say it to me. Don't you dare lay a hand on him."
The girl let out a dry, bitter laugh. "So it's true, huh? Everyone's been whispering about how close you are to that boy. I didn't believe them. I thought—no way my boyfriend would act like that." Her voice cracked. "But now I see. I see."
Then she turned to me fully, fury blazing in her eyes.
"I don't care who you are," she hissed. "But stay the hell away from my boyfriend. If I see you with him again, I swear—I'll smash your face."
Before I could even flinch, she shoved me.
Hard.
I stumbled back, my balance breaking—but before I could hit the ground, Myo Kaung's arm shot out and caught me just in time.
"Got you," he said gently, steadying me.
But it wasn't gentle at all when Paing Say Yan saw.
His entire face darkened.
His hand snapped out, grabbing the girl's wrist in a vice grip.
"You," he growled, "come with me. Right now. You and I are going to settle this."
There was something in his voice that chilled me. Controlled. Quiet. But deadly.
The girl paled a little as he dragged her away toward the back building, not even giving her a chance to protest.
Myo Thant broke from our little circle. "I'll go with them," he said, already moving. "If Paing's this mad, he won't care if it's a guy or a girl—he'll snap. Myo Kaung, stay with Ngwe."
"Got it," Myo Kaung nodded. He turned to me and placed a warm hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"
I nodded slowly, though my hands were still shaking slightly. "Y-Yeah."
But in truth, I wasn't okay at all.
I was scared.
Guilty.
Embarrassed.
Shaken to my core.
Because I had caused this.
Paing Say Yan had dated plenty of girls over the years, but he never really brought them around us. Especially not to me.
It was the first time I had come face to face with one of his girlfriends.
I had always avoided asking about them. Not because I wasn't curious—but maybe my own heart can't handle the answers. And Paing… he rarely brought them up around me either. Like we had a silent agreement not to mention them.
That's why seeing her today—seeing how angry she was, how close she got to hitting me—shook me more than I wanted to admit.
Because suddenly, that quiet space I'd shared with Paing felt exposed. Like someone had opened a door that was supposed to stay locked.
And the worst part? I wasn't even sure what my place was anymore.
His friend? His comfort? His excuse?
I wasn't ready to face what any of it meant.
The sun was beginning to dip into a golden haze when Myo Kaung wheeled his bicycle toward the school gate, his hand resting casually on the handlebars.
"Let me take you home," he said gently, as the chaos from earlier still hung heavy in the air like leftover smoke from a fire.
I nodded silently and climbed onto the back seat, the metal slightly warm under me from the sun. My arms rested awkwardly at my sides until the bike jerked slightly forward.
"Ngwe," Myo Kaung called out over his shoulder, "grab my waist. What if you fall off? If that happens, Paing Say Yan will kill me. Seriously. Hold tight."
Without waiting for my answer, he reached back, took my hand, and placed it around his torso. His touch was warm—steady—and something about that made my throat tighten.
The wheels rolled smoothly over the road. The wind tugged gently at my hair, and the sounds of students had long faded behind us. But my head… my head was anything but quiet.
Paing Say Yan.
His face when the girl slapped him.
His eyes when she tried to touch me.
The burning protectiveness in him, like I was something he'd never let anyone touch.
And her words.
"Flirting with some boy…"
I swallowed hard.
"Myo Kaung," I said softly, resting my chin lightly on his back as I leaned forward, "do all of Paing Say Yan's girlfriends treat him like that?"
"You mean the slapping?" Myo Kaung asked, turning his head slightly. "Or accusing you?"
"…Both."
He let out a breath, half a laugh. "As for the slap? Rare. Most girls he dates are too obsessed with him to ever lay a hand. But accusing you?" He paused. "That… yeah. Almost always."
I blinked, stunned. "What? Why?"
He shrugged, the motion shifting slightly beneath my arms. "Come on, Ngwe. We all see how Paing acts around you. He's always been… extra, when it comes to you."
I looked down at the road moving under us, the blur of pavement spinning like my thoughts.
"It's not weird that his girlfriends feel threatened," Myo continued, more softly now. "Honestly, some of them probably couldn't handle it. I heard a few even broke up with him because of it."
I stayed silent, my grip loosening slightly around him.
"We're not something to be jealous of," I said, barely above a whisper. "They're the ones dating him. Paing… he only sees me as a friend."
Myo Kaung was quiet for a while, his pedaling steady, rhythmic. The shadows of the trees danced across the road as we passed.
"I know that's what you tell yourself," he said eventually. "But what about you, Ngwe?"
His voice wasn't teasing. It wasn't accusing. It was soft. Careful. Like he was afraid I'd break if he pressed too hard.
"Do you only see Paing as just a friend?"
My breath caught.
That was the question I had buried so deep I refused to even look at it.
Even alone.
Even at night.
Even in my dreams.
I could've laughed it off. Teased him. But I didn't have the strength today.
"I… I don't know," I whispered.
And Myo Kaung didn't say anything else. He just kept pedaling—slow, steady, strong—as if his silence was the best answer he could give.
And I was grateful for that.
Grateful that he didn't press.
Grateful for his warmth.
Grateful for this quiet ride where I could lean against someone and not feel like I had to explain my heart.