POV: Sun Suwannasuk Sawannakul
Not everyone's born to shine.
Some people have to try. Work for it. Chase it.
Me? I don't chase anything. Things come to me.
Call it charisma. Call it luck. Call it genetics that hit every possible jackpot. I don't really care what people name it. All I know is—when I walk into a room, people notice. They always do.
If there's a spotlight, it finds me. If there isn't one, it feels like there should be.
I'm Sun Suwannasuk Sawannakul. Seventeen. Social club president. Student council vice. Music, dance, academics—pick a category, I'm already ahead. Three semesters straight at the top of Eliya Academy's "Most Attractive" list, not that I ever asked for it.
I don't chase crowns.
I wear them.
Eliya Academy isn't a normal school. It's where rich kids pretend they're humble and ambitious kids pretend they're not competing. Everything here looks expensive—because it is. The uniforms are tailored, the coffee tastes like it belongs in some European café, and the swimming pool is shaped like a piano for absolutely no reason.
It's ridiculous.
It's perfect.
It's mine.
Mornings are always a bit of a show. My driver pulls up, the gate opens, and suddenly people remember how to look casual while staring.
"Sun oppa, your jacket—where is it from?"
"Sun, did you change your stylist again?"
"Sun, is it true you're dating Moon Metharom?"
I take off my sunglasses just enough to meet their eyes, smile a little.
"Yes," I say easily. "Moon Metharom. My girlfriend."
A few gasps. A few jealous looks.
I shrug. "Perfect match, right?"
Moon is… well, Moon. Top of the class in math, calm in a way that makes everyone else feel loud. When she smiles, it's not for attention. That's probably why people pay attention anyway.
And somehow, she chose me.
Or maybe we just fit. Like we were always meant to end up on the same side of the story.
I walk through the courtyard, ignoring most of the whispers. Sunglasses back on, bag slung over one shoulder. Everything about this place is polished, controlled, predictable.
That's how I like it.
Mostly.
Because there's always one thing that doesn't fit.
Tee Teerawat Darunpakdee.
Even thinking his name feels annoying.
He doesn't try. That's the worst part. No effort, no interest, no need to impress anyone—and yet somehow, he's always right there. One mark higher. One step ahead. Like he's quietly rewriting a script I already perfected.
If I'm the spotlight, he's the shadow that refuses to stay behind me.
I don't like that.
I push open the classroom door, and right on cue, heads turn.
Good.
At least something in this world still makes sense.
Mathyom 6. Senior elite class.
My stage.
Moon is already seated, sunlight catching in her hair. She looks up the moment I walk in, like she was waiting.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey, goddess," I reply, dropping my bag beside her chair.
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "You're in a good mood."
"I'm always in a good mood."
"That's because nothing ever goes wrong for you."
I lean a little closer. "Exactly."
She nudges my arm, amused. "Sit down before you start performing."
I sit, but I don't take off my sunglasses immediately. Not because I need them. Just because I can.
Across the room, Shine Supaporn is watching.
Of course she is.
She's leaning against a desk, coffee in hand, expression sharp enough to cut. My ex. Still holding onto something I already let go of.
I give her a small nod. Polite. Distant.
She doesn't return it.
Right. Still mad.
Not my problem.
The teacher starts talking—integrals, formulas, something about limits. I listen just enough to keep up, but my mind drifts. Choreography from last night. Outfit ideas. The upcoming school event.
Student of the Year.
Again.
It's almost boring how predictable things are.
Then the door opens.
Late.
No apology. No hesitation.
Tee.
He walks in like he doesn't owe anyone an explanation. Headphones still around his neck, hair messy in that way people try to copy and fail. His blazer looks like it came from somewhere cheap, but somehow it works on him.
Annoying.
He doesn't look at the teacher. Doesn't look at anyone.
Until—
He looks at me.
Just for a second.
But it's enough.
There's something in his eyes. Not admiration. Not even curiosity.
Recognition.
Like he sees exactly what I am—and isn't impressed.
I lean back slightly in my chair, lifting my chin just a bit. A silent challenge.
He doesn't react.
Just walks past. Takes his seat at the back.
Like I'm not even worth acknowledging.
I look away first.
Not because I have to.
Because I choose to.
Still… it lingers. That brief moment. That look.
Tch.
So he thinks he can just walk into my story like that?
No introduction. No permission.
Fine.
Let him.
This is still my spotlight.
And Tee Teerawat Darunpakdee?
He's just a problem I haven't decided how to deal with yet.
___