Returning to the hotel, Film tried to smile as if nothing had happened. But that smile was so fragile it seemed a mere breeze could shatter it. Her pale face and those occasional dazed eyes spoke for her. Her fingers intertwined, squeezed tightly, then released, as though trying to hide the trembling inside.

Namtan frowned slightly. To her, Film now looked like a dry leaf blown by the wind, ready to break at any second. She didn’t want to press her, afraid to touch something Film was desperately trying to hide. She spoke gently, slowly, as though soothing a child:
“This afternoon, let me take you for a walk in the park nearby. A change of scenery might help you feel better.”

Film looked up, hesitation flickering in her eyes—like she held ten thousand words locked in her throat. At last, she nodded and forced a smile.
“Okay… that sounds good.”

Namtan reached out to lightly touch her soft hair, brushing it gently. Her warm smile eased the suffocating air just a little.

-----------

By late afternoon, the last rays of sunlight filtered through the treetops, dyeing the park in warm orange. Couples strolled hand in hand, children chased each other around the grass. The peacefulness felt so complete it was as if no scars or bloodstained memories had ever existed.

Namtan and Film walked side by side. Every so often, Namtan turned to ask softly,
“Are you tired? Do you want to sit for a bit?”

Film shook her head with a faint smile. “I’m fine. I’m just… not used to the air here.”

Namtan tightened her hand slightly, sending Film a quiet strength. Yet inside, Film was uneasy. Every laugh, every footstep around her felt distant—as though she were walking through a dream that could collapse at any moment.

After a while, Namtan stopped and said,
“Sit here and rest for a bit. I’ll go buy some water.”

Film nodded and sat on an old wooden bench beneath a large oak. The bench was worn, with fading carvings etched by someone long ago. She exhaled, leaning back, watching the leaves tremble in the wind, trying to find a little calm.

The park’s sounds grew distant, leaving only the pounding of her own heart. And then—
A figure appeared before her.

Film looked up. Her heart stopped.

A tall man with a weathered grace stood holding a bouquet of pure white roses. His steps were unhurried, and the late sunlight cast a strange golden halo around him. That face—eerily similar. Exactly like Thanit.

She shot to her feet, her voice trembling, each word breaking like windblown dust.
“Who… who are you?”

The man smiled. Not cold, not unfamiliar—but so gentle it made her chest tighten.
“I’m Thana Wisa. Quite a coincidence… we seem to keep running into each other lately, don’t we?”

Film went still. Her eyes widened, her pupils shrinking. Her whole body trembled as if a cold current shot down her spine. The bouquet in his hands gave off a faint, lingering scent—soft yet enveloping—making the moment feel both unreal and achingly real.
“You…” Film’s voice cracked. “Why… why do you look like someone who—”

Thana cut in, his deep gaze seeming to pierce through her fragile shell.
“Maybe I resemble someone who once meant a great deal to you. But I am not that person. I’m Thana. And I only want to know… who your heart belongs to now.”

Each slow word was like a blade slicing through her chest. Her breath faltered, her fingers gripping the edge of the bench until they turned white.
“You… why… would you say that…”

Thana tilted his head slightly, his smile enigmatic—half teasing, half sincere.
“Because I want to pursue you.”

Film stepped back, her heel hitting the bench. The scent of roses surrounded her—sweet to the point of suffocation. In a flash, old memories surged: Thanit’s gentle smile, his warm embrace on a rainy afternoon, promises left unfinished.

Her heart thundered, blood rushing to her head until she felt faint. Fear, confusion, and a strange flicker of hope tangled inside her, leaving her speechless. Her throat was dry; her lips shook.

Thana watched her, his eyes full of expectation, maybe even challenge.
“Tell me, Film. Do you already have someone you love?”

The question echoed in her chest, making her heart feel ready to burst.

Right then—
“Film!”
Namtan’s voice rose from a distance, familiar and grounding, yanking her back from the edge.

Film flinched and turned. Namtan was hurrying over with two bottles of water, her smile gentle with a trace of worry.

When Film looked forward again—nothing.
No one stood there.
Only the bouquet of white roses lay neatly on the bench, petals trembling in the breeze, the scent even stronger now.

Film collapsed to her knees, her hand reaching out then pulling back, too afraid to touch. The fragrance clung to the air—proof he had truly been there. She felt her heart skip a beat, as if the world had shifted in just a few seconds.

Namtan approached, brow faintly furrowed. Her eyes flicked to the roses, then to Film.
“Huh… where did these come from?”

Film jolted and quickly turned her face away, dodging that probing gaze.
“I… I don’t know. Maybe someone forgot them.”

Namtan studied her for a few seconds. In that instant, Film felt as though she were seen through entirely. But Namtan only smiled softly and asked no more. Placing the water in Film’s hands, she sat beside her and gently rubbed her back.

Film held the bottle, but her eyes remained fixed on the white roses. Her wrist trembled—her hand was burning, the bottle ice-cold. Her heartbeat was erratic, her chest tight.

Namtan said nothing else, simply drew Film close, letting her rest her head on her shoulder.

Film leaned in silently, but her gaze drifted back to the roses. Fear swelled—but alongside it, a flicker of hope stirred deep inside. If he truly was Thanit, if he had never left this world… what would that mean?

The question echoed over and over, unanswered.

And Film knew, from that moment on, peace would no longer exist—because he had truly returned and stepped into her life once more.