Pim's POV
Pim's pencil moved across the paper in smooth, confident strokes, sketching the curved roofline she'd been envisioning for her design project. Her apartment was quiet except for the low hum of her playlist—instrumental music that helped her concentrate, something ambient and wordless that let her mind wander while her hands worked. Evening light slanted through her window, golden and warm, painting her desk in shades of amber.
This was her favorite time of day. When the world slowed down just enough to let her breathe, to let her create without the pressure of professors and deadlines looming quite so heavily. Her design was taking shape—a community center that blended modern sustainability with traditional Thai architectural elements. Professor Lin would probably critique her use of curved lines, would argue for more angular contemporary forms, but Pim didn't care. Buildings should feel welcoming, not imposing. Should invite people in rather than intimidate them.
Her phone sat face-up on the desk beside her sketchbook, notifications silenced. She'd learned long ago that checking social media while trying to work was a death sentence for productivity. Anda had texted her an hour ago—something about getting the coconut cookies and heading to dinner with P'Ploy—but Pim had only sent a quick thumbs up in response. She'd call Anda later, after she finished this section of the sketch.
The roofline needed something. She tilted her head, studying the drawing from different angles. Maybe if she extended the overhang slightly, created more dramatic shadow patterns. Buildings were as much about the interplay of light and darkness as they were about walls and windows. Professor Lin had taught her that, at least.
Her phone buzzed.
Then buzzed again.
And again.
Pim frowned, her concentration breaking. She reached for her phone, expecting to see Anda sending her a string of silly messages or Kai and Noi having another one of their playful arguments in the group chat.
But it wasn't the group chat.
It was a number she didn't recognize.
The phone rang in her hand, vibrating urgently. Something cold settled in Pim's stomach. Wrong numbers didn't usually call repeatedly. Didn't buzz with that kind of insistence.
She answered. "Hello?"
"Is this Pim? Pim Thasorn?" The voice was young, female, shaking badly. Background noise—sirens, shouting, chaos.
"Yes, who is this?"
"My name is Mali, I'm—I was walking near—there was an accident and I found a phone and you're the last number called and—" The girl was crying now, words tumbling over each other. "There's so much blood and the ambulance is here but—"
"Slow down," Pim said, her own heart starting to race. "What accident? Whose phone?"
"The girl—she was hit by a car—she's not moving and there's so much blood—"
"What girl?" But Pim already knew. Somehow, in that terrible way that your body knows things before your mind can process them, she already knew. "What does she look like?"
"Young, maybe university student, dark hair, she's wearing—"
"What's her name?" Pim was on her feet now, her sketchbook forgotten, pencil rolling off the desk to clatter on the floor. "Did you check her ID?"
Papers rustling. A sob. "Anda. Anda Walchanon."
The world stopped.
Just completely stopped.
Pim heard herself making a sound, something between a gasp and a cry. Her legs went weak and she had to grip the edge of her desk to stay upright. "Where are you? Where is she?"
"Rama IV Road, near the Siam intersection. The ambulance is taking her to Siriraj Hospital. They said it's bad, they said—"
Pim didn't hear the rest. She was already moving, grabbing her bag, her keys, her phone pressed to her ear as she stumbled toward the door. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely get her shoes on.
"Is she breathing? Is she conscious?"
"I don't know, they won't let me near her, there are paramedics and—"
"I'm coming. I'm coming right now." Pim's voice sounded strange to her own ears, too high, too thin. "Thank you for calling me. Thank you."
She ended the call and immediately dialed Kai while she ran down the stairs of her apartment building, nearly tripping over her own feet. The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.
"Hey Pim, what's—"
"Anda's been in an accident." The words came out in a rush, barely coherent. "Car accident. They're taking her to Siriraj. I need—I have to—"
"Oh my god. Okay, okay, we're coming. Noi and I are coming right now. Which hospital?"
"Siriraj."
"We'll meet you there. Pim, breathe. Just breathe and get there safe, okay?"
But Pim couldn't breathe. Her lungs felt compressed, her chest tight with fear so profound it was physically painful. She burst out onto the street into the chaos of early evening Bangkok—the heat, the noise, the traffic that was always, always terrible at this hour.
She needed a taxi. Needed to get to the hospital. Needed to see Anda, needed to know she was okay, needed this to all be a terrible mistake.
A motorcycle taxi pulled up, the driver looking at her with concern. "Where to, Nong?"
"Siriraj Hospital. Please, it's an emergency. My friend—" Her voice broke.
"Get on. Hold tight."
Pim climbed on behind him, her bag clutched to her chest, and Bangkok became a blur of lights and sounds as they wove through traffic with the kind of reckless speed that would normally terrify her. But right now, she didn't care. Didn't care about safety or traffic laws or anything except getting to Anda.
Her phone buzzed with messages. The group chat was exploding.
Kai:On our way. Noi's driving. We'll be there in 20 minutes.
Noi:Anda's strong. She's going to be okay. She has to be okay.
Pim couldn't respond. Couldn't think past the image her mind kept conjuring—Anda lying on the pavement, blood everywhere, not moving. Anda who'd been texting her just hours ago about coconut cookies and dinner with P'Ploy. Anda who'd been alive and whole and laughing.
The hospital loomed ahead, its tall buildings lit against the darkening sky. The motorcycle taxi pulled up to the emergency entrance and Pim shoved money at the driver without counting it, already running toward the automatic doors.
The ER was chaos.
People everywhere—patients on gurneys, families crying, nurses and doctors moving with urgent efficiency. The smell hit her first—disinfectant and fear and something metallic she didn't want to identify. The fluorescent lights were too bright, everything too loud, too much.
Pim ran to the reception desk, nearly colliding with a man in bloodstained clothes. "I'm looking for Anda Walchanon. She was just brought in, car accident—"
The nurse checked her computer, her face professionally neutral. "She's in critical care. Are you family?"
"I'm her—" Pim's mind went blank. What was she? Not family. Not blood. Just her best friend, her chosen sister, the person who knew her better than almost anyone. "I'm her emergency contact. Please, I need to see her."
"The doctors are with her now. You'll need to wait here." The nurse gestured to a waiting area filled with plastic chairs and terrified faces.
"But I need to—"
"I understand, but you can't see her right now. The doctors are doing everything they can. Someone will update you as soon as possible."
Pim wanted to scream. Wanted to demand answers, to push past the nurse and find Anda herself. But the look on the nurse's face—kind but immovable—told her it would be pointless.
She stumbled to the waiting area and collapsed into a chair, her legs finally giving out. Around her, other people waited with the same expression of desperate hope she could feel on her own face. An elderly man holding his wife's hand. A young mother with a toddler sleeping on her lap. A teenage boy with tears running down his face.
All of them suspended in the terrible space between not knowing and finding out.
Pim pulled out her phone with shaking hands. She needed to call P'Ploy. Needed to tell Anda's sister what had happened. But first, she sent a message to the group chat.
Pim:At the hospital. They won't let me see her yet. She's in critical care.
Her phone immediately started ringing. Kai.
"We're almost there. Ten minutes. Have you heard anything?"
"No. They said the doctors are with her. That's all." Pim's voice cracked. "Kai, what if—"
"Don't. Don't go there. Anda is the toughest person we know. Remember when she had that appendicitis last year and still finished her presentation before going to the hospital? She's a fighter."
"There was so much blood. The girl on the phone said there was so much blood."
"Pim, listen to me. Head wounds always bleed a lot, even minor ones. You can't assume—"
"What if I lose her?" The words came out as a whisper. "What if the last thing I said to her was just a thumbs up emoji about cookies? What if I never get to tell her—" Tell her what? That she was the best friend Pim had ever had? That she'd made university bearable, made life brighter just by existing in it? That Pim couldn't imagine her world without Anda's chaotic energy filling it?
"You're not going to lose her," Kai said firmly. "And when she wakes up, you can tell her everything. But she's going to wake up, Pim. She has to."
They stayed on the phone until Kai and Noi arrived, bursting through the ER doors with wild eyes and disheveled clothes. Noi's hair was barely contained in a messy bun, Kai's shirt was on inside out. They'd clearly just thrown on whatever was nearby and run.
Noi wrapped Pim in a fierce hug, and that's when Pim finally broke. Started crying in earnest, her whole body shaking with sobs she'd been holding back. Noi held her tighter, making soothing sounds, and Kai stood close with her hand on Pim's back.
"It's okay," Noi murmured. "We're here. We're all here."
But it wasn't okay. Wouldn't be okay until someone came out and told them Anda was going to survive this.
"I need to call P'Ploy," Pim said when she could speak again. "She needs to know."
"Do you want me to do it?" Kai offered gently.
Pim shook her head. This was her responsibility. Anda was her best friend. She had to be the one to tell P'Ploy that her baby sister was fighting for her life.
She found Anda's phone in her contacts—P'Ploy was listed under family—and pressed call before she could lose her nerve.
It rang three times. Four. Then—
"Nong Anda? Where are you? I'm at the restaurant—"
"Khun Ploy?" Pim's voice came out rough from crying. "This isn't Anda. My name is Pim, I'm her friend from university. There's been an accident."
Silence. Then, very quietly: "What kind of accident?"
"Car accident. On Rama IV Road. She's at Siriraj Hospital, in critical care. You need to come now."
"I'm coming. I'm—give me twenty minutes. Is she—" P'Ploy's voice cracked. "Is she going to be okay?"
"I don't know. They won't tell me anything. Please hurry."
"I'm coming. I'm coming right now."
The call ended and Pim let her phone fall to her lap. Twenty minutes. P'Ploy would be here in twenty minutes and then they'd wait together in this terrible limbo.
Time moved strangely in the waiting room. Simultaneously crawling and racing, each minute an eternity and each hour disappearing without notice. Kai went to get water. Noi sat pressed against Pim's side, their hands clasped together. Other people came and went—some leaving with relief visible on their faces, others leaving with grief.
Pim watched the doors to the critical care unit, waiting for someone to emerge with news. Waiting for a doctor to call her name. Waiting for anything that would tell her Anda's fate.
That's when she saw her.
A doctor emerged from the critical care doors, pulling off surgical gloves as she walked. Young—maybe late twenties. Striking, with sharp features and tired eyes and an air of competence that seemed to fill the space around her. Her white coat was pristine except for a small spot of blood on the sleeve. She was speaking to a nurse, her voice low and controlled.
Pim found herself staring. Couldn't look away. There was something about the doctor—the way she moved, the set of her shoulders, the intensity in her expression. Something that made Pim's heart skip despite the fear and grief consuming her.
The doctor turned, scanning the waiting room, and for just a moment—less than a second—her eyes met Pim's.
The world tilted again.
But this time it was different.
This time it wasn't fear or grief making her breathless.
This time it was something else entirely. Something she didn't have a name for. A pull, a spark, a sense of recognition that made no sense because Pim had never seen this woman before in her life.
The doctor's gaze moved on, professionally detached, and she disappeared back through the doors.
But Pim sat frozen, her hand still clasped in Noi's, her heart doing something complicated in her chest.
"You okay?" Noi whispered.
"Yeah," Pim lied. "I'm okay."
But she wasn't. Because in the midst of the worst night of her life, with her best friend fighting for survival, she'd just felt something she'd never felt before.
And she had no idea what to do with it.
The waiting room doors opened again and a woman rushed in—beautiful despite her disheveled appearance, her face pale with terror. She looked wildly around the room until her eyes landed on Pim.
"Are you Pim?" she asked, hurrying over.
Pim stood. "Khun Ploy?"
"Where is she? Where's my sister?"
"Still in critical care. The doctors haven't come out yet with an update."
P'Ploy's legs seemed to give out and she sank into the chair beside Pim, her hands shaking as she covered her face. "This can't be happening. This can't be happening."
Another woman appeared—older, professional-looking, with concern etched deep in her features. "Khun Ploy," she said softly. "I came as soon as I heard."
"Pan," P'Ploy said, and there was relief in her voice. "Thank you for coming."
They waited.
All of them together now—Pim, Kai, Noi, P'Ploy, and the woman called Pan. United by love for Anda, suspended in the terrible uncertainty of not knowing.
Pim's eyes kept drifting to the critical care doors, hoping for news.
But also, though she'd never admit it, hoping to see the doctor again.
The one with the tired eyes and the spot of blood on her sleeve.
The one who'd made her heart skip at the worst possible moment.
The universe, Pim was learning, had terrible timing.
But the heart, apparently, didn't care about timing at all.
It just felt what it felt.
And right now, in this fluorescent-lit waiting room that smelled of fear and disinfectant, Pim felt too many things at once.
Fear for Anda.
Grief at her own helplessness.
And something else.
Something new.
Something that scared her almost as much as the thought of losing her best friend.
She pushed it away and focused on P'Ploy, who was crying quietly into Pan's shoulder.
Focused on Kai and Noi, who sat close together, drawing strength from each other.
Focused on the doors that would eventually open with news that would change everything.
And tried not to think about dark eyes that had met hers for just a moment.
Tried not to think about the way her heart had responded.
Tried not to think about anything except Anda surviving this.
Everything else could wait.
Everything else had to wait.
But the spark had been lit.
And somewhere in the hospital, on the other side of those doors, a doctor named Earn was trying to save a life.
Not knowing that in doing so, she'd already changed another one.
Just with a glance.
Just with a moment.
The universe worked in mysterious ways.
And in the waiting room of Siriraj Hospital, surrounded by fear and hope and love, multiple futures were beginning to take shape.
All of them tangled together.
All of them inevitable.
All of them just beginning.