The van slowed down.
Through the tinted window I could already see them.
Cameras.
Microphones.
Dozens of journalists gathered behind metal barriers, their voices blending into a restless hum.
My stomach tightened.
"Wow," Non muttered softly. "They really came prepared."
Kit leaned slightly forward and looked outside. "Of course they did. This is the Phansprasit wedding."
Before the van stopped completely, Pim reached into her bag and handed out several pairs of black sunglasses.
"Put these on," she said calmly.
One by one, everyone slipped them on.
Taeng adjusted his on his nose. Non tilted his dramatically like a movie star.
I looked around at all of them dressed in black suits, black dresses, black glasses.
For a second it almost felt surreal.
Anamarija looked at us — and then a small smile appeared on her lips.
"Well," she said lightly, "now you really look like bodyguards."
Non chuckled. "Good. Maybe we'll need them."
The van door slid open.
The noise outside exploded instantly.
Shouting.
Flashing lights.
"Ms. Anamarija!"
"Over here!"
"Look this way!"
The moment Anamarija stepped out of the van, the entire crowd of cameras shifted toward her like a wave.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Flashes exploded in rapid bursts.
"Why did you choose a black dress if the wedding theme is pastel?"
"How do you feel attending this wedding?"
"Is it true you are the daughter of Mr. Phansprasit?"
"Are you sure you are really his daughter?"
Another voice cut through the noise, sharper.
"She doesn't even look Thai!"
I felt my chest tighten.
But Anamarija didn't stop.
She didn't look at them.
Her face remained calm, almost expressionless as she walked forward and began climbing the long marble stairs toward the entrance.
Elegant.
Straight-backed.
Untouchable.
We followed closely behind her.
The journalists kept shouting.
Questions turning sharper. Louder.
More invasive.
Then, just as we reached the top of the stairs, a voice shouted something that cut through everything.
"Is it true you are his bastard child?!"
For a second the world seemed to freeze.
I turned instinctively toward Anamarija.
She didn't stop walking.
But I saw it.
Just for a moment.
Her eyes filled with tears.
She blinked quickly, forcing them back, her expression still controlled as if nothing had happened.
My chest tightened painfully.
Before anyone else could say anything, a familiar voice spoke calmly behind the entrance doors.
"Please come with me."
Rattan.
He stood there waiting, composed as always.
"Mr. Chak is expecting you."
We followed him inside.
The noise of the journalists disappeared the moment the doors closed behind us.
The hallway was quieter, colder.
Our footsteps echoed softly as Rattan led us deeper into the building.
We passed decorated corridors filled with flowers in soft pastel colors — the official wedding theme.
And then we stopped in front of a door.
A white sign was taped across it.
Construction work
Rattan opened it.
"Please go inside."
We stepped into the room.
And there he was.
Chak.
The moment he saw us, his eyes immediately found Anamarija.
He didn't hesitate.
He walked straight toward her.
Before she could say anything, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a firm embrace.
"It's okay," he said quietly.
His voice was calm.
Steady.
But there was something protective in it.
Something unbreakable.
And for the first time since we arrived…
Anamarija didn't look untouchable anymore.
---
For a moment, no one spoke.
Chak still held Anamarija, one hand resting gently on the back of her head like he was shielding her from the world outside.
"I'm here," he said quietly. "They don't get to define you."
Anamarija didn't answer immediately.
She inhaled slowly, steadying herself. When she finally pulled back, her expression had already changed again — calm, composed, the same quiet strength she had shown outside.
"I'm fine," she said.
But I had seen her eyes on the stairs.
And I knew Chak had seen them too.
His jaw tightened slightly before he looked past her at the rest of us.
"You made it."
Non pushed his sunglasses up onto his head and looked around the room.
"So this is the famous secret room?" he said. "Very glamorous. Construction chic."
Taeng nudged him with his elbow. "Read the room."
Pim crossed her arms, still holding her makeup bag like a weapon. "Honestly, the reporters out there were worse than usual."
"They were waiting for her," Kit said quietly, glancing at Anamarija.
Everyone knew it.
The cameras.
The questions.
The cruelty.
Chak turned back to Anamarija again, studying her carefully.
"Did they say anything to you?" he asked.
She hesitated.
Just a fraction.
"It doesn't matter," she replied.
But Non scoffed.
"Oh it matters," he said. "One of them called you—"
Kit immediately grabbed his shoulder.
"Non."
Non sighed dramatically but stopped talking.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Chak didn't need the rest of the sentence.
He already knew.
Something cold flickered behind his eyes — not anger exactly.
Something more controlled.
More dangerous.
"I'll deal with it later," he said calmly.
Then he turned to Rattan, who had been standing near the door the entire time.
"Is everything ready?"
Rattan nodded.
"The guests have already begun arriving. Your mother is greeting them in the main hall."
The way he said your mother carried a quiet weight.
Chak exhaled slowly.
"So it begins."
I watched him carefully.
Outside he looked exactly the same as always — composed, untouchable, perfectly controlled.
But I knew him.
And I could see the tension hiding beneath the surface.
Without thinking, I stepped closer and gently touched his sleeve.
His eyes immediately shifted to me.
Just for a second, the hardness disappeared.
"Hey," I said softly.
He looked at the necklace resting against my collarbone.
Eagle and pencil~us
"I'm here too," I whispered.
His gaze softened.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Chak nodded once, almost to himself, before straightening his posture again.
Then he looked at all of us.
"Listen carefully," he said.
"The moment we walk out of this room, everything changes."
His eyes moved from one person to another.
"They will watch everything."
The cameras.
The guests.
The family.
"The way you stand. The way you speak. Even the way you breathe."
Then his gaze settled on Anamarija again.
"They are waiting for you to break."
The room was silent.
But Anamarija didn't look away.
Instead, she lifted her chin slightly.
"Then they'll be disappointed," she said calmly.
Non let out a quiet whistle.
"Okay," he muttered. "I officially love this woman."
Pim smacked his arm.
But I couldn't stop looking at Chak and Anamarija standing there.
Brother and sister.
Both calm.
Both strong.
Both ready for a war neither of them had chosen.
And suddenly I understood something.
This wedding wasn't just about love anymore.
It was about power.
The room fell quiet again after Anamarija's words.
Even Non didn't have a joke ready this time.
For a moment everyone simply stood there, the tension thick in the air — like the whole building was holding its breath before something inevitable happened.
Chak looked at her for another second.
Then he nodded once.
"Good," he said quietly.
But I could see it in the way his shoulders were set, in the slight tightness of his jaw.
He was ready for a fight.
And suddenly I didn't want the last thing between us before he walked out there to be silence.
Before I could overthink it, I stepped forward.
"Chak."
He turned toward me.
His expression softened immediately, just a little.
"What is it, Artist?"
For a second I forgot that everyone else was in the room.
Forgot the reporters outside.
Forgot the wedding.
All I could see was him.
I reached up and took a small step closer, my hand resting lightly against his chest.
"You said they'll watch everything," I said quietly.
"They will."
"Then let them."
Before he could respond, I leaned in and kissed him.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant.
Just honest.
Warm.
The room went completely silent behind us.
I felt his surprise for a brief second — and then his hand moved to the back of my neck, pulling me a little closer as he kissed me back.
Soft.
But certain.
Like he wasn't afraid anymore.
When we finally pulled apart, my heart was beating fast but I didn't look away.
"If they're watching," I whispered, "they should see the truth too."
For a moment Chak just stared at me.
Then a small smile — rare and real — appeared on his lips.
"Careful," Non's voice suddenly came from behind us. "If you two keep doing that, the wedding guests will faint before the ceremony even starts."
Taeng groaned. "Non…"
But even Kit was smiling slightly now.
Chak exhaled softly and rested his forehead against mine for a brief second.
"Stay close to me," he murmured.
"Always."
Then he straightened again, the calm authority returning to his posture as he looked toward the door.
"Rattan," he said.
Rattan immediately stepped forward.
"Yes, sir."
Chak glanced at all of us one last time.
"It's time."
Outside that door waited the guests.
The cameras.
His mother.
And whatever scandal was about to begin.