Three days later, when Sea walked into the office as usual, he paused in front of his desk.

There it was—the thin blanket he had placed over Jimmy a few nights ago, now washed, neatly folded into a perfect square and resting on the tabletop. Beside it sat a cold can of coffee and a tuna-egg sandwich—his favorite combo.

Taped to the sandwich was a small smiley-faced sticky note.

"Thanks."

Sea stared at the sight for a long while, a wide, uncontrollable grin spreading across his face. He gently picked up the note, carefully smoothed it out, and tucked it deep into the smallest pocket of his wallet—the place where he kept the little things that made him quietly happy all day.

Today was the day he would be joining Jimmy for a meeting with an author.

He glanced toward Jimmy's office—the lights were already on. Sea took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the strap of his bag, and knocked lightly on the door.

Jimmy opened it himself, jacket in hand. "Ready?"

He wore a plain white tee, dark slacks, and a crisp black blazer. His hair wasn't styled, just neatly trimmed—the kind of look worn by someone practical and put-together without being flashy. Mature. Serious enough to be respected, simple enough not to intimidate.

Sea, on the other hand, had on a white hoodie, black jeans, and simple white sneakers. Youthful and unassuming—like someone just beginning to step into the world of grown-ups.

As the two stood side by side, Sea flushed slightly. Their outfits... sort of matched. The visual of them standing together looked surprisingly coordinated—like they belonged in the same frame.

As they walked toward the lobby, they bumped into Tek.

Jimmy nodded at him in greeting. "I'm taking Sea to meet with an author today. We might not be back until later. If anything urgent comes up, call me."

Tek glanced briefly at Sea, something flickering in his eyes, but simply nodded. "Ok."

Outside by the car, Sea held up the sandwich and smiled. "Thanks... for this."

Jimmy opened the car door without looking. "Don't mention it. Just returning the favor."

Sea had expected him to say something like that, but the sweetness of the gesture still lingered. His smile refused to fade.

The drive from the office to Day's house wasn't long—about twenty minutes without traffic. But to Sea, it felt longer somehow, stretched by the quiet that filled the car.

The temperature inside is cool enough. The sky was bright and high, golden sunlight filtering through tree branches and casting flickering shadows on the windshield. The car passed streets lined with bougainvillea, quiet alleyways dotted with little cafés, and finally curved into a peaceful neighborhood shaded by tall trees. Even the usual honking of city traffic seemed to soften here.

The houses were classic-meets-modern: white walls, trailing vines, a setting that looked straight out of a novel.

Sea sat quietly, eyes roaming outside the window, a quiet wonder in his expression—as if mapping the city in his mind. Every street had its own name. Every window, its own story.

Then, soft music began to play from the car speakers—

"ดาวหางฮัลเลย์ (Halley's Comet)" by fellow fellow.

The gentle melody floated like a whisper of memory. Sea's head tilted slightly, eyes lighting up in recognition. He began humming along, shoulders swaying to the rhythm, lips moving with the lyrics:

ขออยู่ในชีวิตที่เหลือของเธอได้ไหม...
Can I be with you for the rest of your life?
อยากลืมตาแล้วได้พบเธอจนวันสุดท้าย...
I wanna wake up and see you every day until the last
อยากเป็นคนที่ได้นอนดูดาวข้างเธออีกหมื่นวัน...
I wanna be the person who gets to stargaze next to you for another ten thousand years
And lean closer to kiss you a million times
และเอนไปจุมพิตเธอสักล้านครั้ง...
Stay with me forever

He sang softly, not self-conscious at all. Just a quiet note of warmth in the car—an ember glowing in Jimmy's normally silent, reserved world. His voice melted into the breeze, like a smile drawing soft circles between them.

When the song ended, Jimmy smoothly turned the wheel, guiding them into the final stretch.

Day's house sat at the end of the lane—a cream-colored villa framed by lush vines.

Sea rang the bell. The air carried a subtle sweetness, a fragrance he couldn't quite name until the door opened.

A young man with hazelnut hair and radiant eyes stood in the doorway. Slender, with a relaxed air, dressed in a brown T-shirt and soft trousers. He radiated comfort, warmth.

Jimmy spoke first. "Day, this is Sea, the intern I'm mentoring."

Day smiled. "Nice to meet you. Come in."

The garden path led them through a sea of blooming jasmine, each bush trimmed with care. Sea now knew—that was the scent he'd caught earlier.

Inside, the house was cozy and sunlit. Light poured in through the windows, illuminating the pale wood kitchen where Day gestured for them to sit.

Sea glanced around. The walls held photos—many of Day, but always with another man: tall, striking, a touch of worldliness in his eyes. He was in almost every frame.

Just as Day finished preparing tea, that man came down the stairs.

Day turned, his eyes brightening instantly. "P'Mhok, your coffee's ready in the kitchen. Don't forget we have to stop by Mom's tonight for Poomjai's birthday."

Mhok smiled. "Got it. You brewed it for me because you don't trust my coffee skills, huh?"

He gave Jimmy a small nod of greeting.

"Don't be ridiculous," Day teased. "I just made tea for our guests and figured I'd do yours too. Oh—this is Sea, P'Jimmy's intern."

"Au? Intern? Never heard you mentor anyone. Is every editor-in-chief nowadays always so kind to look after intern himself?" With a teasing voice, Mhok said to Jimmy

Sea once more time felt that he could no long control his heartbeat "Am I... really the first and only?"

Mhok then affectionately ruffled Day's hair and planted a kiss on his cheek. Day swatted him away, blushing.

Their affection was easy, natural.

Sea admired it. Deeply.

The meeting began with discussions about New Dawn's upcoming reprint, then shifted to Day's new manuscript.

"New Dawn is fine. Just clean up some formatting," Jimmy said. "But the new draft..." — he glanced at Day — "needs work."

Day nodded honestly. "I wrote it when I wasn't in the best headspace. It's a bit all over the place."

Sea flipped open his folder, eyes scanning notes written in violet ink. The new story—tentatively titled Against the Wind—was about a group of college friends and their unspoken, delicate emotions.

Jimmy tapped a few lines on his iPad and turned the screen toward Day.

"This scene—where Dao watches Tee from afar during the performance—it doesn't land."

Sea glanced at the screen. He remembered that scene—it had felt oddly flat.

"What do you mean?" Day asked, chin resting on his palm.

"The emotion's missing. Everything Dao does is technically right—but there's no weight behind it. It reads like a spectator's account, not someone secretly in love. Like he's observing, not feeling."

Sea thought for a moment, then said gently, "Maybe... because Tee feels too far away for Dao. He doesn't think he deserves Tee. So he can never reveal his true feelings. Like Dao is behind glass—he can see everything, but doesn't dare to reach."

Day blinked in surprise, then nodded. Jimmy tilted his head, something flickering in his eyes.

"Good point," Jimmy said. "But that means you, Day, need to make it clearer to the readers that Dao is holding himself back. Hidden feelings aren't the same as no feelings. Give us something to anchor to—an averted gaze, an almost-touch. Let readers feel it."

"I get it," Day murmured, scribbling a note.

Sea watched them—how they talked, how Jimmy switched between firm critique and genuine encouragement. Day pushed back sometimes, defending a creative choice, and Jimmy would counter with patient logic. It wasn't just editing; it was honest dialogue.

And Sea realized: being an editor wasn't just about fixing typos. It was about being the first to speak truth to an author—with fairness, and with care.

Later, Jimmy pulled up a diagram of character relationships—Tee, Dao, Ton, and Mint—explaining emotional arcs, especially Dao's.

"Dao likes Tee, but feels inferior. They're close friends. Dao's afraid if he confesses and things go wrong, it'll ruin what they have."

Sea remembered a moment from the story—Dao handing Tee a towel after his performance. He murmured:

"What if, instead of just giving him the towel, Dao holds Tee's hand for a second—then lets it go. No dialogue. Just that."

Jimmy turned to him. There was something different in his gaze now—warmer. Day laughed softly. "Our future editor has arrived."

Jimmy's phone rang. He excused himself and stepped out back.

"Let's have a short break" Day got up to pour more tea.

Sea felt overwhelmed. He took his cup and walked toward the front garden, hoping the jasmine breeze would calm him.

"P'Mhok planted all these," Day said softly. "He knew I loved them."

Sea glanced around. Every blossom was cared for. Not a petal out of place.

"He really loves you," Sea said.

The flowers swayed in the wind. Their fragrance lingered.

Sea whispered, not quite sure if he was speaking to Day or to himself, "I understand how Dao feels about Tee."

Day raised a brow. "You? You look pretty confident. Hard to picture you and unrequited love together."

Sea smiled faintly. "Jasmine's scent isn't strong. It's soft. You barely notice it at first. But if you stand near it long enough, it stays with you. And when you walk away... you miss it."

He reached out, gently brushing a fully bloomed jasmine. "That's what my feelings for him are like. Quiet. But never gone."

Day didn't reply, just looked at Sea—really looked. Past the smile, past the careful composure.

Sea continued, voice steady, "Sometimes I'm tired. I want to give up. Feels like I'm not getting anywhere. But just thinking of him... gives me strength. It's like a life vest. Doesn't bring me to closer the shore itself, but keeps me from sinking."

Day leaned slightly against the post, then turned around and caught Jimmy, who was supposedly at the back of the house, but standing quietly behind them, hands in pockets.

He had heard everything.

Day smiled knowingly.

"And what about him?" Day asked, eyes still on Jimmy. "Do you think he knows?"

Sea was silent. A breeze swept by. A jasmine petal fell into his palm.

"No," he said quietly. "I don't think he does. I'm not like Dao. I've loved him from far away for a long time. His life has never had my imprint on it. But even so... he's been there for every milestone in mine."

"I've found joy in the unrequited love I have for him."

"And I've known the pain that comes with it."

Silence.

Day looked at him with something soft in his eyes. "Thank you. Not just for Dao and Tee. But for reminding me what that kind of love feels like—gentle, but persistent. Quiet, but unforgettable."

Sea smiled, gaze still on the petal in his hand.

They didn't speak again. But something unspoken passed between them—something about unrequited love being worthy of its own name.

When Sea returned inside, Jimmy was seated as if nothing had happened. No sign he'd overheard a word.

The meeting continued until the sunlight stretched long across the patio.

Day stretched. "Let's call it a day. I'll revise and send over the new draft soon. It's almost time for P'Mhok to get home."

Jimmy—rarely playful—smirked. "Alright. We'll leave you two lovebirds in peace. Focus on your work and don't let Mhok to call me asking for a deadline extension again."

Day flushed. "You're so annoying! Just leave already, both of you!"

The evening breeze was cool, carrying the scent of jasmine in the fading light. Sea followed Jimmy to the car.

"You can just drop me off at the nearest BTS station," Sea said once inside, voice soft.

Jimmy didn't respond right away. Instead, he asked:

"What's your favorite food?"

Sea blinked, caught off guard. But he answered truthfully, "Char siu wonton noodles."

The car turned. Sea thought Jimmy was heading toward the station, but he didn't.

They passed familiar corners.

Until—Sea looked up.

Wasn't this... the road to their old university?

The car stopped in front of a small noodle shop near campus—one Sea had eaten at countless times as a student. The faded red sign still hung crookedly from the roof. The stainless steel tables still gleamed under the lights. The broth still filled the air with its sweet scent.

Sea stood stunned.

Jimmy had already opened his door. "Let's eat."

What were the odds?

In all of Bangkok, of all the places to find char siu noodles... he'd brought Sea here.

Maybe...

Maybe Jimmy hadn't forgotten him after all.

Sea didn't know what this meant. But suddenly, one thought filled his mind, bold and insistent:

Maybe watching from afar... is no longer enough.