Bangkok, one year later.

The corporate storm had passed. The wounds had begun to close. But in people's hearts—scars still lingered.

Joss was no longer teetering on the edge of destruction. He remained Wongthep's CEO—still powerful, still calculating, still commanding respect with a single glance.

Except, there was one person he could no longer control.

Gawin was no longer his assistant. No longer prey in their years-long game of power and pursuit.

He had started his own small company, doing precisely what he was best at: finance. His office sat high above the city skyline, windows overlooking the sprawl of Bangkok.

Sometimes, Joss would stand by his own window, looking toward that building, thinking—

Gawin had walked away.

But he hadn't left.

—

Mornings at Gawin's Apartment

Joss woke to the faint aroma of coffee. He had stayed over the night before—something that had become routine.

The pillow beside him was already empty. Water running in the bathroom. The rhythmic sound of a knife on a cutting board from the kitchen.

He walked out slowly.

Gawin was at the counter, hair damp, shirt loose, slicing bread. He glanced over but didn't seem surprised.

"You have your own home."

Joss leaned against the counter, lifting the coffee Gawin had brewed. He was wearing one of Gawin's shirts like it belonged to him.

"Yeah."

"Then why are you here every morning?"

Joss shrugged.

"Habit."

Habit of walking in like it was his place.

Of waking up next to Gawin, even if neither of them ever said it out loud.

Of hearing the water, of finding bitter coffee waiting for him, of knowing the spare key was always under the mat—yet never once told not to come.

Gawin didn't reply. He simply passed him a slice of toast and sat beside him, sipping his own coffee.

Some things don't need words.

—

The Business Trip He Turned Down

They sat across from each other in Gawin's office.

Once, as Joss's assistant, Gawin followed him on every trip. This time, when Joss offered Paris, Gawin just raised an eyebrow.

"Paris. One week."

Gawin flipped the ticket.

"I have my own work now."

Joss frowned.

"I thought you liked Paris."

"I do. Doesn't mean I have to go with you."

Silence.

"I'm not your assistant anymore, Mr. CEO."

Joss clenched his jaw.

He could've insisted. Could've pulled rank.

But he didn't.

Because love isn't a chain.

—

The Fight They Didn't Want to Have

Late night.

The apartment was dark, save for the warm lamp in the corner. Joss sat on the couch, shirt unbuttoned, fingers around an untouched glass of wine.

Gawin stood by the window.

They'd argued. About what, neither could quite say.

Scars sometimes bleed when you least expect it.

"You still don't trust me?"

"You left me once," Gawin whispered.

"Then why are you still here?"

"I ask myself that too."

A few steps between them—but some distances stretch like lifetimes.

Joss rose and stood behind him. Not touching. Just speaking.

"I can live without anything. But not without you."

Gawin clenched his fists.

Because he knew—it was true.

—

Hua Hin Again

The sunset blazed across the ocean like a memory rekindled. Waves brushed the shore gently, like a lullaby once forgotten.

Joss stared into the horizon.

Gawin came up beside him.

"Back then, I made you promise you'd find me."

Joss looked at him.

"And I did."

"This time," he said softly, "you make the promise."

Joss turned. "Promise what?"

"That no matter what happens, you won't walk away."

The breeze pulled at Gawin's hair. His eyes, for the first time in years, weren't guarded.

He didn't need pheromones.

He didn't need power.

He just needed to be here.

He held out his hand.

Joss took it.

The waves came and went.

But this time—

Gawin stayed.

"I promise."

—