I pulled my gaze away from Tisa and slowly looked around.
The scene felt almost unreal—everyone was absorbed in their own quiet world, standing beside their elephants, brushing them, feeding them, talking to them in soft voices as if they were afraid to break something fragile. Laughter still floated through the air, but it had softened, turned gentle.
A few steps away, I noticed Taeng and Kit.
Taeng was focused on his elephant, moving the brush carefully along her side, completely present. Kit, on the other hand, wasn't doing much at all. He stood close, hands in his pockets, watching Taeng in silence.
Not the elephants.
Taeng.
I felt it immediately—that quiet tension, that unspoken pull between them. The kind you don't see unless you know what to look for. And once you do, you can't ignore it.
They both wanted a moment.
Just one.
I glanced down at Tisa. She stood calmly beside me, trunk swaying lazily, entirely content.
Okay, I thought. I can do this.
We moved slowly toward them, Tisa following my pace without protest. When we reached them, I stopped and looked up.
"Go," I said quietly but softly. "I can see you two need a moment. I'll take care of your elephant."
Both of them looked at me, surprised.
Taeng blinked. Kit's expression shifted—something unreadable flickering across his face before he exhaled quietly.
"Thank you," Kit said under his breath.
Then he turned slightly toward Taeng.
"Come with me," he added, just as quietly.
Taeng hesitated only for a second before nodding.
Kit walked away first.
About fifteen seconds later, Taeng followed.
I stayed where I was, suddenly standing with two elephants beside me.
I started brushing Taeng and Kit's elephant, copying the slow, steady movements the caretakers had shown us. Almost immediately, he leaned into it, clearly enjoying the attention.
"He likes that," I murmured, more to myself than to anyone else.
I fed them both next, alternating carefully—Tisa first, then the other elephant—watching how gently their trunks curled around the food.
As I stood there, brushing and feeding them, a strange warmth settled in my chest.
This is what it means, I thought.
To take care. To notice. To step in when someone else needs space.
It felt… right.
A few minutes later, I sensed movement again.
When I looked up, Taeng and Kit were walking back toward me.
Something had changed.
Not dramatically—but enough. Their shoulders were looser. Their steps more in sync. And when they reached us, I noticed it clearly.
The spark in their eyes.
"Thank you, little one," Kit said, his voice warm.
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't stop the small smile that followed.
"You're still calling me that?"
He didn't hesitate.
"I always will."
I shook my head. "Of course you will."
I hesitated for a moment before asking, my voice lowering without me even realizing it.
"Kit… do you know why Chak couldn't come with us today?"
His expression softened instantly.
"I'll keep it short," he said.
"Wedding preparations."
The words settled heavily—but not painfully.
So it's really happening, I thought.
I looked back at Tisa, brushing her side again, grounding myself in the steady warmth beneath my hand.
The word wedding lingered in the air longer than it should have.
I nodded slowly, brushing Tisa again, letting the steady motion keep my thoughts from spiraling too far, too fast.
"I guess that makes sense," I said quietly. "Chak doesn't do things halfway."
Kit let out a soft huff. "No. Unfortunately for him, neither does the media."
I looked up. "The media?"
He nodded once. "There'll be a lot of journalists. More than he wants. I won't be surprised if there's a live stream. People are already talking."
That made my chest tighten.
Live stream I thought.
Taeng frowned. "He hates that."
"I know," Kit replied. "He always dreamt to have a small wedding somewhere where no one noticed him somewhere peaceful and beautiful."
I swallowed.
A quiet wedding.
That sounded exactly like Chak—controlled, contained, protected from the outside world.
"And he wants it," Kit continued, his voice lowering just slightly, "with the person he truly loves."
He didn't say my name.
He didn't have to.
I felt his gaze on me before I dared to look up. When I did, our eyes met for a brief moment—long enough for the meaning to settle between us.
My hand stilled on Tisa's side.
Me, I thought, my pulse picking up.
He means me.
I looked away first, focusing on the elephant again, pretending I needed to adjust my grip on the brush.
"That sounds like him," I said, keeping my voice steady. "He always wanted things to be… real."
Kit nodded. "Exactly."
For a moment, none of us spoke.
The elephants shifted around us, calm and heavy and grounding. Somewhere nearby, water splashed softly. Laughter echoed, distant but warm.
I rested my forehead briefly against Tisa's side, just for a second.
Taeng cleared his throat. "You know," he said lightly, trying to break the weight, "I completely forgot Chak was getting married."
I let out a quiet breath that almost turned into a laugh. "Same."
Kit smiled faintly. "You won't forget once the cameras show up."
I straightened slowly. "Do you think he's… okay?"
Kit studied me for a moment before answering. "He's nervous."
That surprised me.
"Chak?" I echoed.
"Yes," Kit said simply. "Because this time, it matters. He doesn't want to lose you. He loves you more than you can imagine. "
That hit harder than I expected.
I nodded, my fingers curling lightly against Tisa's warm skin.
It matters because it's me, I thought.
And that both terrified and comforted me at the same time.
Tisa lifted her trunk then, brushing it gently against my arm, almost like she sensed the shift in me.
I smiled softly and stroked her side again.
"Looks like you're stuck with us," I murmured to her.
She answered with a low, content sound.
No matter how loud the world became, Chak wanted something quiet.
Kit took a few steps forward, positioning himself at the center of the group.
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
The moment people noticed him standing there, conversations softened and slowly faded. Even the laughter dimmed, as if everyone instinctively knew this was the end of something gentle.
Kit glanced around once, making sure he had everyone's attention.
"Alright," he said calmly. "Everyone."
Caretakers paused. All the employees turned. A few people straightened unconsciously, brushing elephant hair off their clothes.
"We have fifteen minutes left," Kit continued.
"After that, we'll start heading back."
A collective murmur spread through the group—soft disappointment, quiet sighs.
"I know," he added, a faint smile appearing. "Time went by fast."
He gestured toward the elephants behind us.
"Use these minutes well. No rushing. No phones. Stay present."
His eyes lingered briefly on Taeng… then shifted, passing over me for just a second longer than necessary.
"This is a rare kind of moment," he said. "Let it stay that way."
One of the caretakers nodded in agreement, echoing his words in a softer tone to a few people nearby.
Kit took a step back then, the announcement done, the responsibility released.
The group slowly dispersed again—voices lowering, movements softening, everyone instinctively returning to their elephants.
I didn't move right away.
Fifteen minutes.
I rested my palm against Tisa's side again, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath my hand.
Fifteen minutes before reality comes back, I thought.
Tisa shifted slightly, her trunk brushing against my wrist as if reminding me where I was.
Here.
Now.
I leaned in closer, pressing my forehead gently against her warm skin.
"Looks like we're making the most of it," I whispered.
She answered with a deep, calm rumble.
And for those last fifteen minutes,
the world stayed quiet.
The fifteen minutes passed faster than I expected.
Caretakers began moving between the elephants, their voices gentle but firm, signaling that it was time. One by one, people stepped back, offering final pats, quiet thank-yous, lingering touches.
I pressed my palm to Tisa's side one last time.
"Be good," I whispered.
She lifted her trunk softly, brushing it against my shoulder before turning away.
I watched her go until the space beside me felt suddenly empty.
Then Kit's voice cut through the calm.
"Alright. Let's move."
We followed the path back in small groups, the mood quieter now—tired, thoughtful, full in a way words couldn't quite capture.
The ride back to the resort passed in near silence.
When we arrived, several resort staff were already waiting for us near the entrance, neatly stacked piles of folded shirts in their arms.
"Please take one," one of them said with a polite smile, handing out white cotton T-shirts, each printed with the Love food logo.
I took mine, the fabric still warm from the sun.
Kit stepped forward again, already slipping into his role without effort.
"Everyone," he said, clapping his hands once to gather attention.
"Go change."
A few people laughed lightly, grateful for the clear instruction.
"We meet on the beach in fifteen minutes," Kit continued.
"Shoes optional. Phones optional."
Then, with a brief pause, he added, "Comfort required."
That earned a few smiles.
I glanced down at the shirt in my hands, then back up at the resort, already imagining the sand beneath my feet, the sound of the waves waiting for us.
Fifteen minutes.
Again.
As we dispersed toward our rooms, I felt the shift—away from the elephants, away from the quiet sanctuary, back toward something else.
Something looser.
Something exposed.
I headed inside, the white shirt folded over my arm, my thoughts already drifting toward the beach…
…and toward Chak.