I didn't remember how long I cried in his arms.
Everything felt distant—the voices, the lights, the cold looks from Phaisan, even Mayuree gently rubbing my back. All I knew was Phu's arms around me, his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek, and the way he kept whispering, "I'm here. You're safe. I've got you now."
I clung to him like my life depended on it. Maybe it did.
The pain, the fear, the shame—they all poured out at once. And still, he held me. Still, he didn't let go.
Eventually, my sobs quieted. I was exhausted, my voice hoarse, body trembling. Phu guided me gently to the couch, still holding my hand like he was afraid to let it go.
He looked at me, and I saw it again—the hurt in his eyes. Not at me. Never at me. But for me.
"I need you," I whispered. "I need you, Phu… I can't… I don't feel safe unless you're here."
His hand cupped my cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."
I nodded slowly, trying to believe it.
He turned to Mayuree. "Can I take him upstairs?"
She nodded, tearful herself. "Go. I'll handle everything down here."
He carried me gently, like I might break if he moved too fast. When we reached the bedroom, he helped me change into something soft, wrapped me in a blanket, and pulled me into his chest on the bed.
We didn't speak much after that. He just held me close, one hand on my back, the other cradling the back of my head.
And for the first time that night, I finally exhaled.
In the silence of that small room, wrapped in Phu's arms, I remembered what safety felt like.
And I knew—I never wanted to lose him.
While I was upstairs with Phu, wrapped in his arms, trying to steady my breathing…Mayuree stayed behind in the living room.
She stood there, facing Phaisan Inthanon—one of the most intimidating men she'd ever encountered. But tonight, something inside her snapped.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice calm but laced with steel.
Phaisan looked almost amused. His brow lifted slightly, lips curled into a faint smirk.He wasn't used to being challenged—especially not by someone as soft-spoken as her.
But Mayuree didn't flinch.
He replied coldly, "This is family business. You don't need to involve yourself."
But she took a step forward, unshaken. "Exactly. So why are you bothering my brother instead of your own?"
His smirk faltered.
She raised her voice—sharp and firm, something that rarely ever left her mouth unless she sensed real danger.
"If you think this is funny, take your twisted games somewhere else. And let me make one thing very clear—if I ever see you harassing my brother again, don't expect me to stay silent like this time."
The room fell silent.
Phaisan held her gaze for a long second, as if measuring her seriousness.
Then—without a word—he turned and walked out the door.
No threats. No smug replies. Just quiet retreat.
Mayuree didn't move until she heard the front door shut and the silence returned to the house.
Then, and only then, did she allow herself to exhale.
Mayuree walked quietly upstairs, the tension of what had just happened still lingering in her chest. She made her way to my room and gently opened the door.
There I was—curled in Phu's arms, still trembling slightly, eyes half-closed from exhaustion and everything I had just been through.
Phu looked up as she entered.
She gave him a small nod. "I'll be in the guest room if you need anything."
Phu's eyes softened. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For handling my brother."
Mayuree met his eyes, firm and steady. "Just make sure you fix this. He doesn't deserve what happened tonight."
"I will," Phu said, his voice steady with promise. "I'll take care of it. All of it."
Mayuree nodded once, then gently closed the door behind her and walked to the guest room.
As the door clicked shut, Phu looked down at me again, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
"You're safe now, Ian. I'm not letting anything like this happen again."
And in the quiet that followed, his arms wrapped a little tighter around me—like he meant every word.
We lay there in silence for a while, our breathing steady, our hearts slowly calming. Phu gently ran his fingers through my hair before he finally spoke.
"Ian… can I ask you something?"
I nodded softly against his chest.
"That day… the first time I met my brother—what really happened between you two?"
I stiffened slightly, but I knew I couldn't keep it from him anymore. Not now.
So I told him. Everything.
From the way Phaisan cornered me at that first encounter, the subtle threats he made, the warning he whispered with a smile. How I had brushed it off, thinking I could handle it. That it was just empty intimidation.
When I finished, Phu was quiet. Then he asked, almost in a whisper, "Why didn't you tell me?"
I looked down. Shame tightened my chest.
"I thought I could handle it… I didn't want to worry you. And I never imagined it would go this far…"
There was a pause.
Then his hand lifted to my chin, gently tilting my face up so our eyes met.
His gaze was steady. Deep. Honest.
"Ian," he said, voice soft but firm, "promise me… from now on, no matter what happens—whether it's big or small—even if you just stumble your toe on the edge of a stone, you tell me. If you slip while walking, if you're hurt, even the tiniest thing... I want to know. I want to be there."
I blinked, tears forming again—but this time from something different. Something warm. Something safe.
I nodded, my voice barely audible. "I promise."
Phu shifted slightly and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to my neck.
But the moment his lips touched my skin, I flinched.
My body tensed. A shiver ran through me before I could stop it.
He pulled back instantly.
"Ian…" he said gently, eyes searching mine.
I realized what just happened. The memory—the panic—it had returned without warning. I blinked quickly, trying to breathe, trying to steady myself.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, ashamed. "It's not you… it's just—when you kissed me there, I remembered… I couldn't stop it…"
Phu's expression crumpled.
"No, I'm sorry," he said, voice thick with emotion. His eyes shimmered, and I saw him trying to hold it in. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way."
His voice cracked, and he looked away for a second, wiping at his eye before facing me again.
"I would never, ever want to hurt you. Please forgive me."
I reached for his hand, holding it tightly.
"You didn't hurt me. You're the only one who made me feel safe tonight."
He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it softly, then pulled me back into his embrace—gentler this time, quieter. No words. Just warmth.
We didn't need to say anything more. The silence between us wasn't heavy. It was healing.
Phu gently guided me down onto the bed, his movements soft, never rushed. He pulled the blanket over us, tucking me in like I was something fragile—but not broken.
He lay beside me, close enough that I could feel his warmth, but not pressing, not overwhelming. Just there.
"Let's sleep for the night," he whispered, brushing his thumb lightly across my cheek.
Then he leaned in and kissed my forehead—tender, lingering, full of care.
"I've got you," he said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."
And in that moment, I believed him.
I let my eyes close, his presence steady beside me, my fingers curled around his shirt.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself rest.
Not just my body. But my heart, too.