Danger ⚠️

The morning sun poured through the tall windows of the Kornnaphat-Kwong residence, casting soft light on the polished floors and the faint trail of glitter from last night’s crafts session.

Five years.

It had been five years since Araya and Kawin came screaming into the world—Araya first, fierce and frowning like her mother Ling, and Kawin right behind her, wide-eyed and loud like Orm on a caffeine high.

Now, they were two whirlwinds of energy and wonder—always talking, always climbing, always asking questions. Araya, with her sharp gaze and thoughtful silences, had already declared she wanted to be a scientist or a queen. Kawin, who had Orm’s golden-amber eyes and a laugh that could break clouds, was a born performer—singing at the breakfast table, dancing in his pajamas, and always ready to defend his sister like a knight with a foam sword.

Ling stood in the kitchen, barefoot, her hair in a loose braid, sipping her tea as she watched the twins chase each other in the garden. Orm joined her from behind, wrapping her arms around her waist, kissing the curve of her neck.

“Five years,” Orm murmured. “Can you believe it?”

Ling leaned back into her, eyes crinkling with a soft smile. “Some days it feels like five minutes. Others… like fifty years.”

Outside, Araya yelled triumphantly as she “captured” her brother’s toy robot and ran off with it. Kawin chased after her with a shriek of delight, yelling, “AYA, GIVE IT BACK, THAT’S THE ONE WITH THE ROCKET BUTT!”

Orm snorted into Ling’s shoulder. “Definitely my son.”

They both laughed.

Five years of chaos. Five years of healing. Five years of building a life no bullet, no threat, no shadow had managed to touch since.

The afternoon sun poured softly through the large bay windows of their Bangkok home, casting golden light across the open living room. Araya and Kawin were laughing on the floor, tangled in a plush fort of pillows and blankets. Araya wore a tiny linen dress with gold embroidery—her birthday outfit. Kawin, barefoot and wild-haired, was trying to make the fort taller, stacking books and whispering something about dragons.

Ling stood in the kitchen, slicing strawberries, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she watched her children. Orm leaned against the counter beside her, sipping sparkling water, her other hand resting on Ling’s lower back. Even after five years, the domesticity of this moment still hit her like a dream.

Five years.

Their daughter and son were five.

And everything had changed… yet nothing had.

After taking a break post-parenting, Orm had leaned fully into modeling. With her fierce beauty and quiet magnetism, she became one of Dior’s top ambassadors, gracing magazine covers, walking international runways, and being praised as a modern icon in fashion editorials. But no matter how glamorous the campaign, she always flew back the next day. Her heart belonged here.

Ling, after months of late-night talks with Orm, had chosen her next path with clarity. She merged her two personal brands—Always Wonder and Keep Silent—into one unified powerhouse: Keep Wonder.

It became a cultural phenomenon.

A luxury clothing brand focused on storytelling, purpose, and powerful femininity. They partnered with renowned houses, launched sustainability campaigns, and even held an exclusive capsule collaboration with Dior—modeled, of course, by Orm. Keep Wonder grew beyond Bangkok, with flagship stores in Paris, Seoul, Tokyo, and Milan.

And at the heart of it all—Ling remained CEO. Grounded, visionary, unstoppable. She balanced brilliance with empathy, power with heart.

Her brands were changing the world.

But her favorite title?

Mama.

She turned to check on the twins again. Araya was trying to braid her brother’s hair, and Kawin, ever the patient prince, was letting her—if only because he got to boop her nose every few seconds.

Orm laughed softly. “Do you ever look at them and feel like you might combust?”

“Every second,” Ling whispered back, wiping her hands and wrapping her arms around her wife’s waist. “They’re our greatest work of art.”

Their home had grown, too. After everything they’d lived through, Papa Oct and Mae Koy had insisted on buying the house next door, wanting to be nearby without overwhelming them. Niran had moved back from abroad and now lived just down the block, his godparent duties taken very seriously. And Ling’s parents? They rented a gorgeous condo in the city, just ten minutes away. Sunday dinners became a sacred tradition.

Family surrounded them.

Their empire bloomed.

And love… love only deepened.

Orm leaned her forehead against Ling’s. “They’re going to remember this birthday forever.”

“I think I will too,” Ling murmured. “I look at them and I see everything we survived. Everything we fought for.”

“And everything we dreamed of.”

Outside, the backyard had been transformed for the evening celebration—lights strung between trees, soft cushions under fairy tents, two cakes waiting to be revealed, and a table set for loved ones. All the people who once helped save their lives… were now part of the world they built.

_____

The soft hum of music floated through the garden, mingling with the smell of fresh flowers, vanilla cake, and grilled skewers. The early evening light bathed everything in gold.

Araya and Kawin were now at the center of it all, seated side by side on a giant cushion throne under a canopy of silk ribbons and fairy lights. A crown of tiny jasmine flowers sat on Araya’s head, while Kawin wore a paper dragon mask that one of their cousins had made earlier.

“Ready?” Ling asked, crouching in front of them with a warm smile.

“Ready!” they both chimed, but in very different tones—Araya, precise and composed, and Kawin, gleefully bouncing in place.

Orm walked up behind Ling and leaned down between them all. “Okay, birthday royalty. One wish each, before the cake.”

Kawin shot his hand up. “I want a real dragon!”

Araya gave him a long look. “That’s not logical. Maybe a telescope instead.”

Orm grinned. “That’s my girl.”

Ling raised an eyebrow playfully. “Excuse me, the brainiac is mine.”

“No, Mama! I’m yours!” Kawin interrupted, crawling into Ling’s arms dramatically. “You’re soft and smell nice and always give me strawberries!”

Ling laughed, wrapping her arms around him. “Orm, we need to work on your persuasive skills.”

Araya reached up and tugged Orm’s sleeve. “But I’m yours, right Mommy?”

Orm scooped her up immediately. “Of course, baby. You’ve been mine since the day you kicked me in the stomach from inside Mama.”

Araya gave a pleased little nod and laid her head against Orm’s chest.

Their little family moment was interrupted by Niran who emerged from the snack table, a juice box in hand. “I see the power struggle has begun. I call dibs on whichever twin wants to be raised in a sugar palace.”

Kawin bolted upright in Ling’s lap. “I WANT SUGAR.”

Araya sighed dramatically, resting a hand on her forehead. “You’ll get cavities, Kawin.”

Orm and Ling exchanged a knowing glance—and a soft burst of laughter.

Then it was time for cake.

The two confections—one shaped like a telescope for Araya, the other like a playful green dragon for Kawin—were brought out with sparklers dancing on top. Everyone gathered around, clapping and singing, as Araya and Kawin clutched hands and grinned.

“I’ll blow half,” Kawin said.

“I’ll blow the other half,” Araya replied.

“Together?” Ling asked.

“Together,” they echoed.

And they did.

Later, when most guests were distracted with presents and snacks, Orm and Ling sat on the garden steps, barefoot, tired, blissfully content. Their children were still in the thick of it—Kawin leading a game of dragon tag, Araya tucked away with a group of adults asking questions about the stars.

Orm leaned her head on Ling’s shoulder. “They’re magic.”

Ling looked over at her, their hands laced. “They’re us.”

Just then, Araya trotted over, serious as ever, and leaned into Orm’s lap. “Mommy?”

“Yes, love?”

“Next year, I want to learn about space at the planetarium.”

“We’ll go tomorrow,” Orm whispered, kissing her forehead.

Kawin arrived two seconds later, grass in his hair and joy on his face. “And I want to ride a real dragon!”

Ling laughed, ruffling his hair. “We’ll work on that one.”

Their babies—still growing, still discovering, still so fiercely themselves—snuggled close.

And for a long moment, the four of them simply sat there, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

No threats. No fear. Just family. And everything ahead of them.

After the cake had been devoured and laughter filled every corner of the garden, Araya and Kawin were passed from arm to loving arm like sacred treasures. It was a dance of generations—of lineage, legacy, and boundless affection.

They ran toward Ling’s parents first.

“Grandmaaa!” Kawin called, nearly toppling into her arms with all the weight of his five-year-old body.

Ling’s mother laughed, catching him easily. “Goodness, my boy, you’re getting stronger every time I see you.”

“I’m training to be a dragon knight,” he declared proudly, puffing out his chest.

“Of course you are,” she grinned, planting a loud kiss on his cheek. “And what’s your sister training to be?”

“A queen scientist!” Araya chimed in, already seated beside Ling’s father on the bench, her small hands gently turning the pages of the star atlas he had brought for her.

“She already knows more about constellations than I did at twenty,” her grandfather said, his voice warm with admiration. “She’ll map the stars one day, won’t you, Araya?”

Araya nodded solemnly. “And name one after Kawin. But only a small one. He’s still little.”

“Hey!” Kawin objected. “I’ll be big one day!”

Ling’s parents both laughed, their eyes shimmering with joy as they wrapped their arms around the twins.

“We love you, little stars,” Ling’s mother whispered, brushing Araya’s hair back. “You’ve given us a second youth.”

“And purpose,” her husband added. “Watching you grow is the greatest joy of our lives.”

“Even better than the garden?” Kawin asked, wide-eyed.

“Even better than the garden,” Ling’s father confirmed.

The twins shared a look—an unspoken twin understanding—before launching themselves into another round of hugs.

Next came Orm’s parents.

Mae Koy opened her arms without a word as the twins came barreling toward her. She caught them both with practiced grace, spinning once dramatically as they squealed in delight.

“My stars! My sun and moon!” she cried, raining kisses onto their cheeks. “Did you enjoy your birthday?”

Araya nodded, slipping out of the embrace to lean against Papa Oct’s leg. “I got my telescope. And we blew the candles perfectly.”

“You did,” Papa Oct said softly, reaching down to stroke her hair.

He knelt then, his charcoal blazer creasing as he lowered himself to their height. “Can I tell you something?”

The twins looked up at him with wide, attentive eyes.

“I once believed the world was a dangerous place. And it is. But when I look at you two… I believe it’s also beautiful again.”

Mae Koy’s smile softened, eyes glistening. “You two healed all of us. You’re the hope we didn’t know we were missing.”

Kawin looked between them. “We’re that cool?”

Papa Oct chuckled. “You’re that loved.”

The twins leaned into them, one on each side, small hands tangled in old, wise fingers. Orm watched the sight from a distance with her hand over her heart.

Then came Niran.

The moment he stepped forward, Araya shouted, “UNCLE NIRAN!” and Kawin threw himself into his arms.

Niran caught him with a mock grunt. “Oh no! You’ve grown again! What are you eating, small rocks?”

“Cake and dragons!” Kawin giggled.

Araya crossed her arms. “He also eats my strawberries when he thinks I’m not looking.”

“Is that true?” Niran asked, raising a playful brow.

“Maybe,” Kawin said, grinning.

Niran pulled them both into a hug and held them tight, burying his nose into Araya’s hair and giving Kawin a big smooch on the cheek. “You two have no idea how proud I am to be your uncle. I remember five years ago, I was telling your mama to stop pretending she didn’t love your mommy.”

“She didn’t?” Kawin gasped.

Araya gave a sage nod. “Mama’s always dramatic. It runs in the family.”

Niran laughed so hard he had to sit down, pulling both kids with him. “I swear, you’ve inherited the best of them both. You’ve got Ling’s fire and Orm’s heart.”

“Uncle Niran?” Araya asked.

“Yes, little star?”

“Can you stay over tonight?”

He paused, touched. “Only if your moms say yes.”

They both turned to where Orm and Ling were sitting, snuggled on the garden steps, watching everything unfold like a dream. And when their eyes met the kids’, Orm nodded.

“Yes,” she called out. “But only if you promise not to keep them up with ghost stories again.”

“No promises!” Niran yelled.

Eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon. The fairy lights glowed brighter as dusk wrapped around the party like a soft shawl. The food was finished, the games winding down, and the gentle hum of love filled the air.

And that’s when the twins came back.

They were tired now—eyes drooping, feet dragging, cheeks pink with joy and fatigue. Kawin reached for Ling first, crawling into her lap with a sigh that rattled her heart.

Araya went to Orm, curling against her side like a cat seeking warmth. “Can we sleep now?” she mumbled.

Orm wrapped her arms around her daughter and lifted her into her lap, kissing the crown of her head. “Of course, baby. You’ve had a big day.”

Ling shifted, settling Kawin more securely in her arms. “And tomorrow, we’ll open the rest of your presents.”

“And maybe do nothing else all day,” Orm added.

“Promise?” Araya murmured.

“Promise,” Orm and Ling said together.

The family sat like that—two mothers, two sleepy miracles, wrapped in each other.

And somewhere, between the whisper of jasmine in the garden and the sound of hearts beating in harmony, the Kornnaphat-Kwong family glowed.

They had fought for this peace.

They had bled for it.

And now, they lived it.

Together. Always.

The house was quiet as the evening settled in, the last traces of the party cleaned up, the gifts stacked neatly by the bookshelf. The twins had already started to drift off in their mothers' arms, but as soon as Orm and Ling rose to carry them upstairs, they stirred again—still holding onto the magic of the day.

“Are we having a bedtime story tonight?” Kawin mumbled, head buried into Ling’s shoulder.

“Of course,” she whispered, brushing his hair from his face. “You think we’d skip the best part?”

Araya, half-asleep against Orm, blinked slowly. “Just one. And no singing dragons this time.”

“No promises,” Orm teased as they headed up the stairs.

In their shared bedroom, everything was already prepared—soft lamps glowing on either side of the room, two tiny beds with forest-themed sheets, their favorite plush toys lined up and waiting. Ling gently laid Kawin down, tucking his blanket around him like a ritual. Orm kissed Araya’s forehead before laying her into bed as well, smoothing the edge of her nightgown.

Both kids looked up at them, eyes glossy with sleep and love.

“What story tonight?” Orm asked, settling onto Araya’s bed while Ling took her usual place between both beds, resting on the floor with a pillow against the wall.

Araya yawned. “Tell us the one about the girl and the warrior… the one who built a home together.”

Kawin grinned. “And they had two little stars.”

Orm’s heart squeezed. Ling smiled, tears pricking her lashes.

“You really like that one, huh?” Orm asked softly.

“It’s my favorite,” Araya whispered.

So Orm began.

“In a city full of noise, there was a girl who saw everything but felt like she was invisible. And then there was a warrior… fierce, soft-hearted, who fought battles no one ever saw. One day, the girl and the warrior met. And everything changed.”

“They were scared,” Ling picked up, her voice warm and low, “because love was new and raw. But they chose each other. Again and again. Until their love grew so big… it made stars.”

Kawin blinked slowly. “That’s us.”

Orm leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That’s you, my moonbeam. And your sister, our little firework.”

Araya reached out sleepily. “Mama… Mommy… hold our hands?”

Both mothers reached between the beds, their fingers wrapping around the twins’ tiny ones.

Silence fell, soft and full.

They watched as Araya turned in her sleep, instinctively reaching for her twin—and Kawin, still mostly asleep, reached back, their fingers curling into each other’s across the space between their beds.

Orm swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. Ling leaned into her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“They’ve always been connected,” she whispered. “Even before they were born.”

Orm nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple. “They always do that… I love it.”

They stood there for a long time, arms around each other, bathed in golden light and the soft hush of sleeping children.

Orm closed the twins’ bedroom door with reverent care, her hand resting on the handle as if reluctant to leave that sacred space. Behind her, Ling waited in the hallway, eyes shining with the kind of soft, exhausted joy that only came from loving something—or someone—with every part of your soul.

They didn’t speak as they padded downstairs, hands finding each other easily, naturally. The quiet was comforting now. Not heavy like it used to be, back when shadows still lingered. But soft. Safe. Full of the sounds of a life well lived: the faint hum of the fridge, the occasional creak of old wood, the heartbeat of home.

The couch welcomed them like an old friend, its cushions familiar and a little sunken in the best spots. Orm pulled Ling down with her, letting her settle into her lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ling sighed deeply, melting into Orm’s arms, her cheek pressed against her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. “I love this,” she whispered.

Orm kissed the crown of her head. “Just us. Just now.”

They didn’t need more.

For a while, they just sat like that—tangled up, warm and quiet, wrapped in a blanket and the glow of the room around them.

Orm tilted her head down, brushing her nose against Ling’s temple. “Do you ever just… look at them and wonder how we got so lucky?”

Ling chuckled softly. “Every single day. Sometimes I watch them sleep and cry a little because it’s overwhelming. We made them. We kept them safe. We gave them a home.”

Orm’s arms tightened around her. “You carried them. You brought them into this world. You built that home. I still look at you like I don’t know how you’re real.”

Ling shifted to face her, cupping Orm’s jaw. “You gave me the courage to love like this. To build like this. Without you…” Her voice caught. “Without you, none of this would have existed.”

Orm blinked away the sting behind her eyes. “Do you remember when I used to dream about just being enough for you?”

Ling leaned in and kissed her, slow and tender. “You’re more than enough. You’re everything.”

A tear slipped down Orm’s cheek, and Ling kissed it away.

“I watch you with our kids,” Ling whispered, “and I fall in love all over again. You’re so present. So fierce. They look at you like you hung the stars.”

Orm let out a soft laugh, brushing her fingertips along Ling’s waist. “Because they don’t know their mama is the real star.”

Their foreheads met.

Silence again, but not empty—brimming with all the things they didn’t need to say anymore.

Then Orm spoke, her voice low and thick with emotion. “They’re happy. We did that. After everything we went through, they get to grow up laughing. Free. Safe.”

Ling nodded, her fingers toying with the edge of Orm’s shirt. “I never thought I’d feel peace like this. I never thought I’d live a life where bedtime stories and baby monitors and glitter on the kitchen floor would make me feel like the richest person alive.”

Orm leaned in and kissed her again, deep this time, one hand tangled in her braid.

“I love you,” Orm breathed. “Thank you for giving me this life. These babies. This forever.”

“I love you too,” Ling said, voice trembling. “I’d choose you again and again. In every lifetime.”

They sat like that, curled together on their old couch, the sound of their breathing syncing, the baby monitor casting a soft glow nearby.

And in the other room, two little hearts slept soundly, wrapped in the magic of a love that had rewritten everything.

2 years later

The sun peeked through the curtains with a kind of excited glow, as if even it knew what day it was.

Down the hall, the house stirred earlier than usual. Backpacks were already packed, lunch boxes were lined up in the fridge, and two brand-new uniforms hung neatly on the closet doors—crisp, tiny, perfect. The only thing louder than the ticking clock… was the beating hearts of their mothers.

Orm stood in the kitchen in her robe, pouring milk into two small thermoses, trying to act normal—like this wasn’t one of the biggest days of their lives.

Ling, still barefoot in a silk blouse and leggings, peeked over her coffee mug. “You’ve been staring at those thermoses for five minutes.”

Orm looked up. “Do you think we’re scarring them by being too enthusiastic?”

“You cried while packing their lunch last night.”

Orm didn’t deny it.

From upstairs, a shriek of laughter echoed, followed by the unmistakable stampede of small feet.

“READY!” Kawin burst into the kitchen, his shirt slightly askew, one shoe on, the other in his hand.

Behind him trailed Araya—perfectly dressed, hair brushed, face already showing the beginnings of that signature Ling frown. “He didn’t wear socks,” she announced.

“You were hogging the good ones!” Kawin shot back.

Ling set down her mug with a sigh. “And so it begins.”

But even as she crouched down to help Kawin with his shoes, her fingers trembled a little.

Orm kneeled in front of Araya, fixing her collar. “You look like a queen,” she murmured.

“I feel nervous,” Araya whispered.

Orm pressed a kiss to her forehead. “That means you’re about to do something brave.”

Araya’s lip wobbled. “Will you wait for us?”

“Always.”

Ling looked up at Kawin, brushing his hair back. “You be kind, okay? Especially to your sister. And listen to your teachers.”

“I will,” he promised. “But what if I miss you too much?”

Ling smiled, tears threatening. “Then you think of your mommy and mama and know we’re right here, always waiting.”

The car ride was unusually quiet, save for the twins humming to themselves in the backseat. Orm drove slowly, as if trying to stretch time. Ling kept turning around, checking their seatbelts, their hair, their bags.

At the school gates, a small crowd of new parents bustled around, and the familiar buzz of first-day nerves filled the air.

“Here we go,” Orm murmured, parking.

They unbuckled, helped the twins out.

Kawin bounced on his toes. “I’m ready.”

Araya held Orm’s hand tightly. “Can you walk us in?”

“We wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,” Orm said, brushing a kiss to her hand.

They walked as a unit—four heartbeats, four shadows—through the school gates.

Inside, the classroom smelled like crayons and new paper. Their teacher, Ms. Saowalak, greeted them warmly and knelt to welcome the twins.

“I’m right here,” she said kindly. “I’ll take care of you today.”

Kawin grinned. Araya nodded solemnly.

Then the moment came—the first real goodbye.

Ling bent down first, wrapping them both tightly in her arms. “You are my greatest pride,” she whispered. “Go be amazing.”

Orm followed, her voice thick. “Be wild. Be smart. Be yourselves. We’ll be here waiting with hugs and cookies.”

They clung for just a heartbeat longer.

Then Araya let go.

Then Kawin.

They joined the other children, their little hands brushing once before they sat side by side.

And when they turned to wave—

Their mothers waved back with trembling smiles and tear-filled eyes.

Outside the gates, Orm exhaled and pulled Ling into her arms. “Did we do okay?”

Ling laughed into her chest, eyes wet. “We did amazing.”

“They’re going to be incredible.”

“They already are.”

They stood there for a moment longer, two women in love, full of pride and ache, watching the doors their children had just walked through.

A new chapter had begun.

And once again—just like they promised—they were facing it together.

The end