"Chak!"
We both froze when we heard the voice echo from the hallway.
Phalin.
Chak's eyes snapped to the door, then to me. For the first time that night, I saw real alarm in his expression.
"Hide," he whispered urgently.
"Where?" I breathed.
We glanced around the room quickly — too exposed, too open, nowhere obvious—
"There," Chak said, pointing toward the door. "Behind it. Quickly."
"Chak…" I whispered, grabbing onto his blazer like letting go would make everything collapse.
"It's going to be okay," he said softly, steadying me. He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. "Trust me."
I hurried behind the door just as it opened.
Chak stepped forward to block the view.
Phalin entered with measured steps, her heels sharp against the floor.
"What do you want?" Chak asked coldly.
"My husband," Phalin replied smoothly. "I want you by my side."
"Keep dreaming," Chak said flatly. "I don't love you. This marriage exists only on paper."
Her eyes hardened.
"We'll see about that."
She reached for him, but Chak immediately pulled his arm away.
A tense silence hung between them.
Then they turned and left together.
The door closed.
I exhaled so hard my knees nearly gave out.
My heart was pounding wildly, adrenaline rushing through my veins.
She almost caught us.
The thought echoed loudly in my head.
I collapsed into a chair, pressing my palms together, trying to steady my breathing and slow the storm inside my chest.
After a minute, I forced myself up and slipped out of the room.
The wedding noise grew louder as I walked back toward the hall.
And then I saw it.
That rich boy.
Grabbing Anamarija.
Trying to force a kiss on her.
Journalists appeared instantly — cameras flashing, voices rising.
Anger exploded inside me.
Hot. Immediate.
But before I could even move—
Anamarija reacted.
Her hand swung hard across his face.
The slap cracked through the air.
So strong that the red imprint of her palm bloomed across his cheek.
I froze.
I hadn't expected that from her.
"Touch me one more time and you'll regret it!" she shouted.
At that exact moment, more people rushed in—
Chai.
Malai.
Chak.
Kit.
Taeng.
Non.
Vikran.
Torn.
Chak's mother.
Phalin.
Pim.
Amara.
Chai's face was burning red with fury.
He marched straight to the boy and raised his fist.
"She's my sister! Don't you ever touch her again!"
I saw Kit and Taeng holding Vikran back as he struggled against them.
When he finally broke free enough to step forward—
He punched the boy hard.
"She's mine. You understand?"
He pulled back his fist again—
But Anamarija stepped between them.
"Vikran."
Her voice cut through everything.
"Look at me."
He did.
And the warmth in her eyes slowly pulled him back from the edge.
But then a few girls rushed toward him — clearly more concerned about him than what he had just done.
One of them looked at Anamarija with open disdain.
"You should be grateful a man like him even looks at you," she said coldly. "Do you know how rich he is?"
The comment hung in the air.
Anamarija didn't even hesitate.
Her gaze hardened as she looked directly at them.
"I don't care if he's rich or poor," she said firmly.
Her voice was calm.
But every word carried absolute certainty.
For a moment, Vikran didn't move.
His chest was rising and falling heavily, fists still clenched at his sides.
The anger in his eyes hadn't disappeared completely — it was still there, burning beneath the surface.
But Anamarija didn't step back.
She stood right in front of him, calm and steady, her gaze locked on his.
"Look at me," she repeated softly.
The chaos around us continued — journalists whispering, cameras flashing, guests murmuring behind their hands — but in that moment it felt like the two of them were standing in a quiet space of their own.
Vikran's jaw tightened.
Then slowly… his shoulders relaxed.
His fists loosened.
He exhaled deeply, forcing himself to step back.
Anamarija gave the smallest nod, like she knew exactly how hard that had been for him.
Behind them, Chai was still glaring at the rich boy like he might explode again at any second.
Malai placed a hand on his arm.
"Chai," she murmured gently.
He took a breath but didn't look away from the boy.
"You heard what she said," he growled. "Stay away from my sister."
The boy wiped the corner of his mouth, still stunned, humiliation written across his face.
Around him, the girls who had defended him earlier suddenly looked far less confident now that the entire Phanprasit family was standing there.
Whispers spread through the guests like wildfire.
Scandal.
Drama.
A wedding turning into something much more interesting than expected.
Chak stood a few steps behind Anamarija, watching the scene carefully.
For a brief second his eyes moved toward me.
A silent question.
Are you okay?
I gave a small nod.
Across the hall, Phalin watched everything unfold with narrowed eyes.
Her smile was gone.
Her gaze moved between Chak… and me… like she was trying to piece together something she couldn't quite see yet.
Vikran finally stepped closer to Anamarija again, his voice quieter now.
"Did he hurt you?"
She shook her head.
"No."
He studied her face for another moment, making sure she was telling the truth.
Then, without hesitation, he gently took her hand.
Protective. Certain.
And this time—
Anamarija didn't pull away.
For a moment, the tension still lingered in the air after the rich boy left.
Whispers spread through the guests, journalists quietly discussing what they had just witnessed, cameras still occasionally flashing.
But Chak's attention was no longer on the crowd.
He stepped forward.
Straight toward Anamarija.
Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her.
The hug wasn't polite.
It wasn't formal.
It was protective.
The kind of embrace that said he wanted to shield her from everything that had just happened — from the cameras, the whispers, the arrogance of that boy… from the whole world if necessary.
Anamarija froze for a brief second, clearly surprised.
Then she relaxed slightly in his arms.
Chak rested his hand gently on the back of her head, holding her close.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with that," he said quietly.
Chai nodded approvingly beside them.
Malai crossed her arms, still glaring in the direction the boy had disappeared.
Vikran stood just a step away, watching carefully — protective in his own way, but calmer now.
I noticed something else.
Across the small crowd—
Phalin.
She was watching the hug.
And it was very clear she didn't like it.
Her expression remained composed, but the tightness in her jaw betrayed her irritation.
Her eyes moved from Chak's arms around Anamarija… to his face.
Calculating.
Measuring.
I felt the shift instantly.
So before the moment could stretch any further, I spoke.
"Phalin," I said lightly.
Everyone glanced toward me.
"Let's go back."
Her eyes moved to mine.
For a brief second, something sharp flashed there — suspicion, maybe.
Then she smiled again.
Polite. Controlled.
"Yes," she said smoothly. "Let's return to the reception."
When we returned to the hall, the atmosphere had shifted again.
The lights had dimmed slightly, casting a warm golden glow over the pastel-covered tables. Guests were slowly gathering near the dance floor, murmuring with anticipation.
Soft music began to play.
The host stepped forward with a polite smile.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "please welcome the newlyweds for their first dance."
Applause filled the room.
Chak stepped onto the dance floor with Phalin beside him.
The band started playing a slow, elegant melody.
They moved together gracefully — exactly how everyone expected the perfect couple to look.
Phalin rested one hand on Chak's shoulder, the other in his hand.
Then, after a moment, she leaned her head gently against his chest.
To anyone watching, it looked intimate.
Romantic.
A beautiful moment between husband and wife.
But Chak wasn't looking at her.
His gaze had drifted across the room.
Toward me.
Our eyes met.
And the world around me seemed to fade again.
The music.
The applause.
The glittering decorations.
None of it mattered.
Because even while he held his wife in his arms—
He was looking at me.
My chest tightened.
Yesterday…
The memory rose vividly in my mind.
Yesterday, I was the one dancing with him.
In the quiet of the garden.
No audience.
No expectations.
Just us.
And he had looked happier.
So much happier.
I swallowed slowly as I watched them.
Yesterday I was the one dancing with you, Chak.
And you looked happier than you do now with her.
When you looked at me…
I was the only one in your eyes.
And just like that—
The performance resumed.
The music floated softly through the hall.
Chak and Phalin continued to move across the dance floor with slow, elegant steps.
To everyone watching, they looked perfect.
A beautiful couple.
A successful union.
Exactly what a wedding should look like.
But I knew better.
Because Chak's eyes kept returning to me.
Again.
And again.
Phalin still rested her head against his chest, unaware — or perhaps pretending not to notice.
Her hand slid slightly along the back of his blazer as they turned with the music.
Possessive.
Claiming.
But Chak's focus wasn't on her.
It was here.
On me.
I felt my throat tighten.
For a moment I almost looked away.
Almost.
But something inside me refused.
If he was going to look at me like that… I wouldn't pretend I didn't see it.
Across the table, Taeng noticed.
His gaze shifted between Chak and me.
Then he quietly leaned toward Pim and whispered something.
Pim followed his gaze.
Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
Non turned next.
Then Amara.
Within seconds our entire table understood what was happening.
And suddenly the air around us felt charged with a secret none of them dared say out loud.
On the dance floor, Chak slowly spun Phalin in a graceful turn.
Guests clapped softly at the movement.
Phalin smiled for them.
Beautiful.
Poised.
But when the turn ended and she settled back against him—
She finally noticed something.
His gaze.
She followed it.
Her eyes moved across the room.
And landed on me.
For a split second—
The smile on her lips stiffened.
Not gone.
But strained.
Because even while holding her in his arms…
Her husband was looking at someone else.