Chapter 41

Sky Wongravee

The night market hums around us, lanterns swaying in the gentle breeze, their warm glow painting everything in soft golds and reds. Vendors call out their final deals of the night, and the scent of grilled skewers and sweet pastries lingers in the air. A street performer strums a guitar somewhere in the distance, his voice blending seamlessly into the easy rhythm of the city.

May and I settle onto a bench at the edge of the market, our snacks in hand. She takes a bite of her fried chicken, chewing thoughtfully before turning to me with narrowed eyes.

"Okay," she says, pointing at me with the half-eaten piece in her hand. "I'll admit it—you were right. This is actually amazing."

I smirk, sipping my drink with a satisfied air. "Told you."

She huffs but doesn't argue, taking another bite like she's savoring it. "You get one victory. Don't let it go to your head."

I chuckle, leaning back against the bench. The sounds of the market continue around us—laughter, sizzling food, the clinking of glasses—but here, in this little pocket of space, it feels like it's just us.

I glance at May out of the corner of my eye. She's tapping her fingers against her cup absentmindedly, eyes bright as she watches people pass by. There's something about the way the market lights reflect in them, like tiny constellations caught in her gaze. She looks happy.

And maybe I am too.

It's funny. After everything that's happened in the past few weeks, I didn't expect to feel this light again. But with May, there's no weight, no hesitation—just ease. Like breathing. Like something that doesn't need overthinking.

She shifts slightly beside me, turning so she's facing me fully. "Hey," she says, her voice softer than before. "Can I ask you something?"

I tilt my head toward her. "Of course."

She hesitates, biting her lip like she's choosing her words carefully. "Have you ever thought about us? Like... as more than this?"

Her question catches me off guard—not because I haven't thought about it, but because she's saying it out loud.

I blink at her, my heart skipping for a brief second. And then, I let out a small breath. "I..." I trail off, not because I don't have an answer, but because I want to say it right.

"Yeah," I say finally. "I have."

She lets out a small breath, like she wasn't sure what I'd say. "And?"

I glance down at my drink, rolling the cup slightly between my fingers before looking back at her. "And I think... being with you feels easy. It makes sense."

Something shifts in her expression, the teasing glint in her eyes softening into something more certain.

"Yeah?" she asks, her voice quieter now.

I nod, a small laugh escaping me. "Yeah."

For a moment, she just looks at me—long enough for me to start wondering what she's thinking. Then, she reaches for my hand, her fingers brushing against mine before she laces them together.

It's simple.

Not some grand, dramatic moment. No fireworks, no world-stopping realization. Just her hand in mine, warm and steady, and the night stretching out in front of us like an open invitation.

I squeeze her hand lightly, my lips curving. "So... does this mean I get to make fun of your terrible food choices even more now?"

She gasps, shoving my shoulder with her free hand. "Excuse you, my food choices are top-tier."

I laugh, pulling her closer, and she doesn't resist.

The market buzzes around us, but we're in our own little space, the rest of the world fading into the background. May is still smiling when she glances up at me, and I swear, for a second, everything just clicks into place.

I don't think about it. I just move.

I lean in, and so does she. There's no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just the quiet understanding between us as our lips meet, soft and unhurried, tasting faintly of fried chicken and bubble tea.

It's not some earth-shattering kiss, but it doesn't have to be. It's just... right.

She pulls back first, her forehead resting lightly against mine. "Took you long enough," she murmurs, a small smile playing on her lips.

I huff out a laugh, squeezing her hand. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just say I was making sure."

She raises an eyebrow. "Making sure of what?"

I grin, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. "That I wasn't wrong this time."

She shakes her head, but she's still smiling, and I know—without a doubt—that I wasn't.

The night carries on, the market still alive with its endless energy. But for once, I'm not thinking about what's next. I'm just here. With May.