1
May loves her life. She is young, smart, attractive, and successful. She owns her own restaurant in the heart of Bangkok, a bustling spot that hums with energy from morning until night. Locals and tourists alike flock to her place for the fusion dishes that have become a citywide sensation. The sleek, modern décor pairs perfectly with the fragrant aromas of stir-fries and delicately spiced curries wafting through the air.
Her staff are skilled and loyal, her friends dependable, and her business thriving. By most measures, her life is a recipe for happiness.
Except for one thing: her love life—or lack thereof.
Maybe it's bad timing. Maybe it's the long hours she pours into the restaurant. Or maybe—just maybe—her standards are impossibly high. Whatever the reason, love remains elusive. Not that it stops her from noticing people, like the customer with the dazzling smile who comes in at precisely 1 PM every day to order the same dish to go.
Tall, confident, and effortlessly stylish, the woman had intrigued May from the start. Today, however, has been a turning point. For once, the restaurant hadn't been overwhelmingly busy, and May had seized the chance to talk to her.
"Sam," the woman had introduced herself, her smile widening as they chatted, getting on well.
May had even managed to convince her to enter the restaurant's prize draw for a chance to win a free meal—May was totally going to rig it and with no shame too.
"Or," Sam had teased, with a playful glint in her eye, "If I'm not lucky, the meal could be on me."
That smile. That teasing edge. May had practically floated back into the kitchen after that exchange.
Unfortunately, in her flustered state, she hadn’t paid close attention to which card, with Sam’s phone number, Sam had placed in the prize bowl. And now?
Now May is sitting in her bathtub, warm soap suds creeping up to her collarbones, her skin slick from lavender-scented bubbles as she calls every Sam on the list, hoping to find the Sam.
The search is going terribly.
There's Sam the insurance agent, Sam who doesn’t even remember entering the draw, the Sams that didn't answer and, worst of all, Sam’s wife, who does not appreciate the unexpected call.
"Uh, sorry," May stammers before hanging up, mortified.
Ready to give up, she sinks back into the warm water, letting the bubbles cling to her skin as she exhales a heavy sigh. Maybe I’ll just let fate decide, she thinks. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.
Just as she’s slipping into a blissful, sudsy daze, her phone vibrates against the edge of the tub, jolting her out of her thoughts.
She sits up quickly, water sloshing against the sides, eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar number flashing on the screen.
Heart thudding with curiosity—and a tinge of hope—she answers.
"Hello?"
“Is this Miss Metavee?”
"Yes, this is her."
May's breath hitches. Could it be...?
***
May’s heart pounds violently, threatening to break through her chest as she bursts through the double doors of the police station. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, disbelief and nausea washing over her in waves. This can’t be real. It just can’t be.
The sterile smell of industrial cleaners hits her senses, mingling with the low murmur of voices and the crackle of police radios. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a harsh glow on the chaos swirling inside her mind.
Spotting the front desk, she rushes forward, adrenaline propelling her steps.
"Excuse me," she manages, her voice shaking. "I'm looking for Officer Young."
A tall officer with sharp eyes steps from behind a partition. "That's me. Come this way, Miss."
He gestures for her to follow, leading her around the corner into a quieter corridor. The noise of the station fades behind them, replaced by a suffocating silence.
May struggles to keep her focus as Officer Young speaks, his tone steady but somber.
"I’m sorry to inform you," he says, "that Alyssa and Tan Ying were involved in a fatal car accident this evening. Neither survived the impact."
The words hit like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs.
Gone. Aly and Tan—her closest friends, the ones who met, fell in love, and built a life right in front of her.
Her chest tightens, nausea clawing at her throat.
"You’re sure?" she forces out, her voice barely audible.
He nods solemnly. "Yes. Their vehicle flipped after colliding with another. I’m truly sorry for your loss."
May clutches the wall, her hand trembling against the cold surface as she fights to breathe. The officer’s words blend into a dull hum as shock and heartbreak threatens to drown her.
"The officer at the scene found your name and number listed on an insurance contact card in Alyssa’s wallet," Officer Young continues. "We need the contact information for their next of kin. Can you provide that?"
May blinks, trying to clear the fog clouding her mind. "Yeah… Tan’s dad. Um..." Her voice falters. "Wait—how did you say the car flipped? It hit the—?"
Her words trail off as dizziness sweeps over her. She grips the wall tighter, her chest heaving.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to sit down?" Officer Young asks, concern flickering in his eyes.
May shakes her head fiercely, as she remembers something vital. Her eyes widen in horror.
"They have a baby girl," she whispers. "Nova."
The officer’s expression shifts, bracing for the inevitable question.
"Was she in the car? Was she in the car with them? " May’s voice rises, panic consuming every inch of her.
"No," Officer Young says firmly, stepping closer. "She was with a babysitter at the time of the accident. She’s perfectly fine."
Relief floods through May, her knees threatening to give out. But it’s short-lived.
"Where is she now?" she demands.
"CPS took temporary custody for the night."
"CPS?"
"Child Protective Services," he clarifies.
May's face twists in disbelief. "You mean—like where they take kids who don’t have—"
He nods grimly. "Cases like this, yes. Orphaned children."
Orphaned. The word cuts through May like a blade.
Aly and Tan, her dearest friends are gone. But Nova? Nova has lost her parents.
Officer Young keeps talking, but May can’t hear him anymore. Grief presses down on her chest, suffocating her.
But one thought does rise through the haze, sharp and clear:
Nova isn’t just another case.
She’s Aly and Tan’s daughter.
And there’s no way May is going to let her face this alone.
***
May sits on the cold, hard bench in the police station, numb and hollow. The walls around her blur under a film of unshed tears, the air thick. Her fingers tremble in her lap, clenching and unclenching as though gripping onto the last threads of composure. Her chest aches, raw from the weight of grief pressing down on her.
Aly and Tan. Gone. It doesn’t seem possible.
Every second stretches painfully. People move around her, their conversations a dull buzz she barely registers. Her breath catches in her throat as flashes of memories assault her—Aly laughing at one of Tan’s ridiculous jokes, Nova’s sweet giggle as her parents doted on her. Now all of that is gone. The finality of it twists inside her like a knife.
Suddenly, the faint but unmistakable growl of a motorbike cuts through the stagnant air. That familiar rev—a signature sound that May had grown to associate with irritation and eye-rolls—now slices through her grief with a strange, grounding clarity.
She doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is.
Ai-oon.
The door swings open with a metallic creak, and there she stands, helmet tucked under her arm, dark hair mussed by the ride. Her eyes, usually gleaming with smug amusement, are shadowed and hollow. The cocky smirk May often wanted to slap off her face is nowhere to be found. Instead, Ai-oon's expression is etched with raw devastation.
Grief recognises grief.
Ai-oon scans the room, her gaze locking onto May. The weight of it breaks something inside her. May’s breath hitches, her chest tightening until she can no longer hold herself together. The tears she’s been fighting back burst free, and before she knows what she’s doing, she’s stumbling toward Ai-oon, who follows suit heading towards May.
Her legs feel unsteady, but her heart propels her forward. The moment she reaches Ai-oon, she stops, taking in the pain that's sitting fresh and prominent in the dark brown of Ai-oon's eyes, May watches as Ai-oon's bottom lip quivers her own tears starting to slip down her cheek before she lets go and collapses against her, a single sob breaking through the fragile dam of composure she failed to hold onto.
“Ai-oon…” she chokes out in a whisper, her voice fractured with pain.
Ai-oon doesn’t hesitate. Strong arms wrap around May, pulling her close with a firmness that feels like a lifeline. One hand presses gently against the small of May’s back, the other cradling the back of her head. May grips onto Ai-oon’s jacket, her fingers curling into the worn fabric as if holding on to her is the only thing keeping her upright.
They sway slightly, as though the weight of their shared loss might topple them. Ai-oon leans into May’s touch, her warmth steady and grounding. Her chin tucks against the top of May’s head, her breath soft against May’s hair.
The world around them fades—the sterile walls, the hum of the station, the harsh fluorescent lights. All that remains is the quiet, fragile connection between two people shattered by the same tragedy.
May’s sobs soften into ragged breaths, but she doesn’t pull away. Ai-oon’s hold is unwavering, her strength a balm against the storm raging inside May.
“I’m so sorry,” Ai-oon murmurs, her voice low and raw.
The sincerity in her tone cuts through May’s grief like a blade, unraveling her completely. They’ve never been close, always at odds, but here and now, none of that matters.
May nods weakly against Ai-oon’s chest, the tears still slipping down her cheeks. “Me too.”
They stand there, locked in an embrace born of heartbreak, finding solace in the only person who truly understands the weight of what they’ve lost. For the first time in years, their animosity is stripped away, leaving only grief—and the fragile comfort of knowing they’re not alone.
***
The house feels heavy with absence when May and Ai-oon step inside, silence pressing down like a suffocating weight. The faint smell of Aly's vanilla diffuser still lingers in the air, clinging stubbornly as though it, too, refuses to accept what's happened.
May’s eyes dart to the pile of laundry folded halfway on the staircase, clothes left in the middle of a task that would never be completed by the same hands. The walls are lined with framed photos—Aly and Tan beaming on their wedding day, Nova with frosting smeared across her cheek during her first birthday, friends gathered for countless celebrations.
Her throat tightens painfully.
But there’s no time for that now. They have to bring Nova home.
She pulls out her phone and dials CPS, pacing the living room as Ai-oon sinks onto the couch, her body folding into itself with exhaustion. Her usually confident posture has been replaced by a slouch, the weight of loss and grief heavy on her shoulders.
***
Ai-oon's dark eyes, rimmed red, track May's restless movements.
“No. No, I don’t understand why we can’t see her tonight,” May snaps into the phone, frustration sharpening her voice. “This is her home. She’s just a baby, and you’re telling me she has to spend the night in some strange place because of... protocol?”
The response on the other end is cold and bureaucratic, the same scripted line May has heard three times already the past half an hour shes been on the phone. Her knuckles whiten around the phone as anger and helplessness threaten to consume her.
“I don't care about your protocol! This is—” May cuts herself off, forcing a shaky breath as the CPS worker continues talking, unmoved.
Her shoulders sag, and with a heavy sigh, she concedes. “Fine. I’ll be here if anything changes. Yes. Thank you.” She hangs up with more force than necessary, and throws the phone. It lands with a thud onto the cushion beside Ai-oon.
“They won't do anything,” she says bitterly, her voice cracking. “Not until 8 a.m. tomorrow.”
The weight of it all crashes down on her—the loss, the stupid rules that keep Nova away, the aching void left behind—and for a moment, May feels completely untethered.
To her surprise, Ai-oon stands, stepping toward her with an unexpected calmness. Her hand, warm and steady, lands gently on May's shoulder.
“Okay,” Ai-oon says softly, her voice strong despite the weariness in her eyes. “We know that she is okay and that she's safe and taken care of for tonight. There is no more we can do now but wait.”
May stares at her, thrown by this sudden maturity from someone who had always seemed so juvenile and carefree.
“You know,” Ai-oon continues, “why don’t we sleep here tonight? That way we’re here if they call early. All right?”
May exhales shakily, the suggestion cutting through the fog of anger clouding her mind. “Okay.”
“You can take the guest bedroom,” Ai-oon offers, gesturing toward the stairs.
“Yeah. Sure. You can take Aly and Tan’s room if you want,” May says without thinking, though the offer immediately feels wrong.
Ai-oon visibly recoils, shaking her head. “No, thank you. I’ll sleep here.” She pats the couch.
The room falls quiet.
“See you in the morning then,” May murmurs, her voice softer now.
“Yeah. see you in the Morning,” Ai-oon nods, their gazes not leaving each other.
May turns toward the stairs, but something makes her pause. She glances back to find Ai-oon still watching her, her expression unreadable but open in a way that May hasn’t seen before.
“Thanks, Ai,” May says quietly, the words sincere despite their simplicity.
Ai-oon tilts her head in acknowledgement, offering a small nod. “Night May.”
***
The sound of heavy stomps on the stairs breaks the fragile morning stillness, signaling Ai-oon's impending entrance into the kitchen. May glances up from the sink just as Ai-oon appears in the doorway, looking far more put-together than she had last night. Her long hair is combed back, and she’s dressed in her usual casual way—a baggy white t-shirt and a pair of worn blue jeans.
It’s typical Ai-oon attire, and despite herself, May can’t help but find it attractive. There’s something about the easy confidence Ai-oon carries in those unassuming clothes. She hates to admit it—even to herself—but Ai-oon is, objectively speaking, incredibly good-looking.
Too bad that charm disappears the second she opens her mouth, May reminds herself. She doesn't need much of a reminder why their date three years ago had been a complete disaster. Ai-oon was immature, unpredictable, and impossible to take seriously. Not her type. Not even close.
“Anyone call?” Ai-oon’s voice pulls May out of her thoughts.
She watches as Ai-oon saunters toward the fruit bowl, plucking an apple with a casual ease.
“Just their lawyer,” May replies, rinsing her empty cereal bowl and placing it in the dishwasher. She speaks briskly, trying to keep her focus on the task rather than the woman now casually leaning against the counter. “He’s on his way over. Said he needs to talk to us.”
Ai-oon bites into the apple with a loud crunch, her expression unreadable as she nods. “Got it.”
Without another word, she wanders toward the living room, the hem of her loose t-shirt swaying slightly with each step.
May watches her go, a strange new feeling, that she can't give name to settling in her chest. She shakes her head, brushing the feeling away. Last night really fucked with her.
“Focus Metavee.” she whispers aloud to herself. There's too much at stake to let Ai-oon's presence mess with her head now.
***
Lawyer Heng Dunn, a short man with kind eyes and an even kinder voice, sits at the polished dining room table with May and Ai-oon facing him. The weight of the situation hangs heavily in the room, pressing against May’s chest like a stone. She keeps her arms folded tightly, trying to anchor herself in the face of the chaos swirling around them.
“I’m sure this is a very difficult time for you,” Dunn begins gently. “Everyone at the firm... We will miss Tan very much. He was a good man. Now, I imagine you both have many questions.”
Ai-oon speaks first, “Well... Nova.” she glances at May as if for confirmation. “I think that's who we're both thinking of.”
May nods. “Yeah. What’s going to happen to her now?”
Dunn clears his throat, folding his hands on the table. “I’ve already arranged for her transfer. The foster family she’s with will bring her to the CPS office. The department feels she’ll adjust best back in her own environment.” He pauses, looking between the two women. “So, the first step is for someone to pick her up and bring her home.”
“Okay...” Ai-oon frowns. “And who does that?”
May feels the same echoes of confusion in her mind, furrowing her brow.
Dunn's expression shifts into something more hesitant. He leans back slightly, his hands resting on the chair’s armrests as if steadying himself. “I’m sorry—did Aly and Tan ever talk to you about their guardianship arrangements?”
“No,” they answer in perfect unison, both leaning, just slightly forwards, in their chairs towards Dunn.
“Well...” Dunn draws a careful breath. “In preparing their will, we discussed who would care for Nova in the unlikely event that they both passed away.” He pauses, as if waiting for the words to land. “And they named you. Both of you.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Then, as though struck by the same shockwave, May and Ai-oon bolt upright, leaning toward Dunn in disbelief.
“I’m sorry, what?” May stammers, blinking rapidly.
“They picked us?” Ai-oon echoes, pointing between herself and May.
“Together?” May adds, waving vaguely in Ai-oon’s direction as if the idea itself defies logic.
A small, amused smile slips onto Dunn’s face. “Look, I’m sure this isn’t how you imagined starting a family.”
May lets out a near-hysterical laugh, panic creeping into her voice as she quickly cuts off Dunn from implying anymore. “There’s been a misunderstanding. We are not married.”
Ai-oon, predictably unhelpful, chimes in, “Yeah, like they tried to set us up on a date once, but we didn’t even make it to the restaurant.”
May whips her head toward Ai-oon, narrowing her eyes.
Ai-oon remains oblivious as she continues to spill their past “I don't even know if you'd caII it a date.” That comment has May’s jaw tightening, her glare turning murderous as she slips out her own honest truth “Yeah she was such a dick.”
Now May feels Ai-oon's glare on her.
Unbelievably, Dunn smiles even wider, clearly entertained by their squabbling despite the gravity of the situation. “I know this is overwhelming,” he cuts in gently, reclaiming the conversation. “Believe me, I tried to advise them against it. But there are options. You don’t have to do this.” His voice softens with sincerity. “This is a big deal. It’s a child—a lifelong commitment.”
The weight of his words sinks deep into May’s chest, mingling with the ache of grief. Nova. Aly and Tan’s daughter. They’re her guardians now? The thought is incomprehensible. She exchanges a glance with Ai-oon, who looks equally stunned despite her usual bravado.
This is something May never envisioned happening to her, certainly not with someone like Ai-oon sat beside her. But neither was losing their best friends.
And yet here they are.