That morning, the city seemed split in half, each side wrapped in a different atmosphere.

On one end, music and applause spilled out of a grand hall where Milk and Love, dressed impeccably, walked under the barrage of flashing cameras and cheers. On the other end, under the gentle golden sun, Namtan and Film were busy loading supplies onto a bus with the film crew for a charity trip to the outskirts.

On the bus, Film took the window seat. Sunlight streamed in at an angle, brushing over her hair until it glowed like fine strands of silk. Namtan sat beside her, placing her personal bag at her feet. At first, they spoke only about the schedule: what time they would arrive, how many gift sets to distribute, who would handle photos. But when Film reached for the heavy donation bag to pull it onto the seat, Namtan instantly rose.

“Let me carry that. You just hold the camera.” Her tone left no room for debate.

Film blinked, pausing mid-motion. “It’s fine, I can—”

“No ‘I can.’ Hand it over.” Namtan leaned in, slipping the bag gently but firmly out of Film’s grip.

Film smiled, yielding. “Thank you. It really is heavy.”

Namtan shrugged with a playful grin. “The heavier the better. Free workout. Saves me a gym fee.”

Film laughed softly. The sound lingered between them, carrying a warmth she couldn’t quite name.

---

At the charity site—a faded yellow schoolyard at the town’s edge—the crew quickly divided tasks. Namtan joined Film, helping her set up tables, spread cloths, arrange gifts. When Film struggled to balance a wobbling stack of milk cartons, Namtan bent down, steadying them with one hand.

“Careful. If it topples, no one gets to drink.” Her tone was half teasing, half concerned.

Film chuckled, nodding. “You really know how to crack a joke at the right time.”

Soon the sound of children’s footsteps filled the air. A boy with a soccer ball ran toward them, and Namtan crouched to his level, ruffling his hair and playing a quick game of hand slaps that made the kids burst out laughing. Watching from a short distance, Film felt something loosen in her chest. This Namtan—so often labeled a “red flag”—looked nothing like the rumors. Instead, she was blending in, gentle and patient with children, her warmth undeniable.

A little girl, no older than five, tiptoed shyly toward Film, clutching the hem of her dress. Film bent down with a smile, but the girl retreated a step. From behind, Namtan’s voice carried:

“Go on, sweetheart. Sister Film isn’t scary at all. She’s kind.”

Film laughed, handing the girl a gift. Her eyes lifted, meeting Namtan’s across the distance. And in those eyes, she glimpsed something genuine—gentleness, unperformed.

---

Meanwhile, back in the city, the event hall blazed with lights. On the massive LED screen, Milk and Love’s commercial teaser played on repeat, intercut with stylish couple shots. Every mention of their names sent the audience roaring. Love maintained her poised smile, answering questions with practiced charm. Milk, in contrast, was relaxed, throwing in jokes that kept the hall lively.

During the fan Q&A, a young woman suddenly asked:
“Love, are you still close with Film? We don’t see you two together much anymore.”

Love froze, her smile faltering for the briefest moment. “We’re still good friends,” she replied lightly, though her eyes slipped away from the cameras. The words left a faint bitterness in her chest, though less sharp than it once was.

Milk jumped in quickly: “Hey, what about me? Nobody asks if I’m close with Film? I’ve even got a secret stash of embarrassing photos of her!” The crowd roared with laughter, and the MC seized the cue, moving the segment along with behind-the-scenes bloopers. Love shot Milk a sideways glance that said thanks, and let out a small laugh. She realized she was learning how to let go, little by little.

---

During the charity event, Film’s phone buzzed. She slipped away for a moment to answer.

“Film, I’m really coming back soon! I can’t wait, are you ready?” Bonnie’s cheerful voice rang through.

Film laughed. “That’s great news. But why are you calling now?”

“Because I want to remind you—be careful with Namtan. What, have you fallen for her already?”

Film shook her head, smiling helplessly. “You overthink too much. She’s just been… really helpful here.”

Bonnie giggled. “Fine, fine, I was joking. But still… keep some distance, okay?”

When the call ended, Film slipped her phone away. But Bonnie’s words rippled in her mind like a pebble dropped into a still pond.

---

Late that night, the hotel was quiet. Film stepped into the corridor, the countryside breeze cool against her skin, scented faintly with night-blooming flowers. At the far end, leaning against the balcony rail, was Namtan.

“Can’t sleep?” Film asked softly.

Namtan turned, her smile gentle. “Just wanted some fresh air. What about you?”

Film moved to stand beside her, mirroring her posture at the railing. “Same. Today was… really nice.”

Namtan nodded. “Yeah. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that happy. The way you played with the kids—it was sweet.”

Film laughed. “You were even worse. You played with them like you were their age.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m old.” Namtan winked, making Film burst into laughter.

Silence followed, but it wasn’t heavy. The night hummed with wind and crickets, the hallway lights casting a soft glow that touched only half of each of their faces.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Namtan asked suddenly.

Film thought for a moment. “At the script reading for Fractured Memories, three years ago.”

“Right. Back then, I thought you’d be difficult to get along with. But turns out…” Namtan’s smile lingered, unfinished.

“Turns out what?”

“Turns out we’d end up working together so well.”

The words seemed casual, yet they settled into Film’s heart like a quiet warmth. She realized she liked hearing Namtan speak, liked the easy silences between them even more.

They talked on—about their early days in the industry, times they’d fumbled lines, roles that had nearly broken them, the backstage mishaps they could laugh at now. Each memory, each laugh brought them closer, the distance shrinking until Film caught herself watching Namtan too long, while Namtan listened with her head tilted and an unguarded smile.

When the clock neared eleven, Namtan finally said, “We should rest. There’s work tomorrow. Let me walk you to your room.”

Film nodded, though she lingered a moment longer, unwilling for the night to end.

---

The next evening, the crew returned to the city at dusk. As Film reached for her luggage, Namtan took it before she could.

“Let me. Think of it as a thank-you gift for last night’s stories.”

Film laughed. “You make it sound like you’re giving me another present.”

“Who says gifts need a reason?” Namtan’s smile held a quiet mischief.

Sunlight poured through the company’s glass doors, gilding their silhouettes in a warm glow. For a fleeting moment, standing there beside her, Film felt a peace she had never known with anyone else.