When we reached the beach, I stopped.
Just for a moment.
Chak was walking toward us.
He wore a dark gray shirt, thin and open, doing more revealing than hiding. The fabric clung lightly to his shoulders, falling away from his chest, leaving his skin exposed to the evening air. Everyone could see it—his muscles, the sharp lines of his abs, the effortless confidence in the way he moved.
White shorts sat low on his hips, bright against his tanned skin.
I felt heat rush to my face.
God.
He was unfairly, unbearably hot.
My breath caught before I even realized I'd stopped breathing.
And then—without permission—my mind betrayed me.
For a split second, the beach emptied.
No voices.
No people.
Just him and me.
The sand beneath our bare feet, warm from the sun. The sound of the waves rolling in slow and steady. Chak standing closer—too close—his open shirt brushing against my arm, his presence heavy and familiar and dangerous.
I imagined his hand reaching for mine.
Not rushed.
Not hidden.
Just… natural.
Us walking along the shoreline, side by side, saying nothing, because we wouldn't need to. His fingers lacing with mine. The wind tugging at his shirt. The world reduced to salt air, skin, and the quiet certainty that this was where we belonged.
My chest tightened.
The vision shattered the moment laughter broke through the air, pulling me back into reality.
Back to the group.
Back to the truth.
Back to Chak standing right there—real, solid, and completely off-limits.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to move again.
Get it together, I told myself.
But my heart didn't listen.
It was already walking with him down an empty beach that didn't exist.
Someone from the team let out a low whistle.
"Well," a voice said loudly enough to carry, "looks like even the gays are allowed to enjoy the view now. I mean—when else do you get permission to openly admire the boss's body?"
Laughter rippled through the group.
My stomach dropped.
I didn't need to look around to know.
That comment was aimed straight at me.
I felt my face heat up instantly, my fingers curling at my sides as if I could physically pull myself smaller. I kept my eyes fixed on the sand, painfully aware of Chak's presence—and of how obvious my reaction must have been.
Before I could say anything—or before the moment could stretch into something sharper—
Non stepped forward with a bright, unapologetic smile.
"My future husband has a beautiful body," he said smoothly, pride clear in his voice. "I don't see why anyone should pretend otherwise."
That did it.
The tension cracked.
Laughter burst out again, louder this time, easy and careless. Someone clapped. Another person joked about Chak needing to start charging for beach appearances.
Even Chak chuckled, shaking his head slightly as if resigned to it all.
I let out the breath I'd been holding, relief mixing with something heavier I couldn't quite name.
Non's words echoed anyway.
My future husband.
I risked a glance up.
Chak was smiling—but his eyes shifted, just briefly, finding mine across the space between us.
The smile faltered.
Just for a second.
And in that second, I knew.
He had heard the comment too.
And somehow…
he knew it had been about me.
I looked away first, my heart pounding far too loud for a beach filled with laughter.
The joke passed.
But the tension didn't.
It settled quietly between us,
warm as the sand,
sharp as truth.
Chak lifted his hand slightly, an easy gesture—but it was enough.
The laughter faded. Conversations softened. Eyes turned toward him without him asking.
"As you all know," he began calmly, "my wedding is approaching."
A few reactions followed immediately—smiles, murmurs, soft nods.
"I also know," he continued, his gaze sweeping over the group, "that many of you would like to attend."
Several people nodded openly now.
"Yes."
"Of course."
"That would be amazing."
Chak's lips curved into a small, controlled smile.
"So," he said, "we'll do it this way."
That got everyone's attention.
"We'll split into groups," he explained. "A few simple challenges. The group that wins—" he paused deliberately, "—will attend the wedding."
The beach erupted.
"No way."
"You're serious?"
"That's unfair."
"I'm competitive, you know that."
I stayed very still.
Then Chak's eyes shifted.
They found me.
My breath hitched.
Just for a second—but long enough.
Heat rushed to my face, and I knew I was blushing. I hated that I couldn't control it. Hated that he could still do this to me without even trying. I wanted to kiss him. Right there. No matter if everyone was watching.
His gaze lingered half a second longer than necessary.
Then he looked away.
Toward Anamarija.
"Phansprasit," Chak said evenly.
"Come here."
Nothing happened.
Anamarija didn't move. She stayed exactly where she was, brows knitting slightly, as if she wasn't sure she'd heard correctly.
Amara leaned closer to her and whispered, "He's calling you."
Anamarija blinked, then looked up—straight at Chak.
Slowly, she stepped out of the group and walked toward him, stopping a short distance away.
Her posture was calm. Confident.
"But why didn't you call me by my name?" she asked, head tilting slightly. "Why did you use the surname Phanprasit?
A few people exchanged curious looks.
Chak studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"I wanted to see," he said calmly, "how you'd react to your new surname."
Anamarija's lips curved—not into a smile, but into something sharper. Knowing.
"But I don't even have the surname Phansprasit." She said.
"I know but in your veins flows the blood of Phanprasit." Chak said in the calm voice.
"So?" she asked. "Satisfied?"
Chak's gaze held hers.
"Very."
Something about the air shifted.
I swallowed, suddenly aware that this wasn't just a game anymore.
Not for any of us.
And especially
not for me.
She stayed where she was—right beside Chak.
Her arms crossed loosely over her chest as she looked up at him, eyes steady, unreadable.
"Why did you call me out?" she asked quietly. "In front of everyone."
Chak didn't answer right away.
He glanced briefly toward the group, making sure the attention had drifted just enough—people already whispering excitedly about teams, challenges, winning.
Then he looked back at her.
"Because," he said calmly, "you're already invited to the wedding."
Anamarija blinked.
Just once.
Chak held her gaze. "Because I didn't want you to think you had to earn an invitation."
Something in her expression shifted—surprise, quickly masked.
"So everyone else has to compete," she said slowly, "and I don't?"
"Yes. Because you are my sister."
"And you thought calling me out like that was necessary?"
"I did."
She studied him for a long moment, then let out a quiet breath.
"You're unbelievable," she said—not angry, not amused. Just honest.
Chak's lips twitched faintly. "You knew that already."
She shook her head slightly but didn't move away.
Chak turned back toward the group. His gaze moved once. And stopped.
On me.
"Niran," he said calmly.
"Come here."
My heart skipped.
Every muscle in my body tightened as if I'd been caught doing something wrong—something I hadn't even realized I was guilty of.
I stepped out of the group, the sand suddenly feeling heavier beneath my feet.
I stopped in front of him.
Up close, he smelled like salt and heat and something dangerously familiar.
Chak didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"We need to talk," he said evenly.
"About your behavior."
My stomach dropped.
"My… behavior?" I echoed quietly.
"Yes," Chak replied, his tone controlled, professional. Distant in a way that hurt more than anger ever could.
"Toward my fiancée."
The word hit like a slap.Fiancée.
I felt heat rush to my face again—but this time it wasn't desire.
It was shame.
Confusion.
And something sharp and unfair twisting in my chest.
"I don't understand," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. "What did I do?"
Chak held my gaze, his expression unreadable.
"Your words. " he said simply.
"The reactions."
My breath caught.
"You're not as subtle as you think."
A few people nearby had gone quiet. Not openly listening—but close enough that every word felt exposed.
"I don't appreciate," Chak continued, "my fiancée being made uncomfortable."
I swallowed hard.
"I would never disrespect her," I said. "Or you."
His jaw tightened—just slightly.
"I know," he replied.
"That's why I'm talking to you privately."
Privately.
On an open beach.
With everyone watching.
I nodded slowly, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
"I'll be more careful," I said quietly.
Chak studied me for a long moment.
Then he leaned in just enough that only I could hear.
"You have to be," he said softly.
"Because right now… people are watching."
Our eyes met.
And for a split second, the distance between us disappeared—replaced by everything we weren't saying.
Then he straightened.
Chak glanced around once, then shifted his stance.
"Walk with me," he said quietly.
I hesitated for half a second before nodding.
We moved away from the group, toward the quieter end of the beach waves grew louder, covering our steps, our breathing.
No one followed.
When we were far enough—when the laughter behind us blurred into nothing more than background noise—Chak stopped.
He turned to face me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The ocean filled the silence.
Then Chak exhaled slowly.
"I lied," he said.
I blinked. "What?"
"I didn't call you out because of your behavior," he said quietly.
I frowned. "Then why?"
"So I could separate you from the group," he admitted. "So we could have a moment. Just us."
My breath caught.
"I wanted to kiss you so badly," Chak continued, his voice low and honest. "And not let you go. Not even for a second."
My heart was pounding.
I looked at him—really looked at him. The open shirt, the salt on his skin, the way the light traced the lines of his body.
"In that outfit," I said softly, unable to stop myself, "you look… really hot."
His lips curved faintly.
"That's why I wore it," he said. "I wanted to see your face."
He stepped closer.
"I saw the way you were looking at me," Chak added quietly. "Like you were devouring me with your eyes."
I reached out before I could think better of it, my fingers brushing over the firm warmth beneath his shirt.
"They can look," I whispered. "But they can't touch you."
My hand pressed a little more firmly against him.
"Not like I can."
His breath hitched.
Then he kissed me.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't careful.
It was everything we'd been holding back the whole day.
I kissed him back without hesitation—until I pulled away just enough to look at him, my forehead resting against his.
"Can I?" I asked softly.
Chak didn't look away.
"Yours," he replied. "All yours."