Sun Yan

Page 1 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌷Prologue🌷
Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025

Four Years Ago

The whistle screams, shrill and sharp, and I almost spill the goddamn
Gatorade.

Coach is waving at me from the sideline, doing that frantic "you're going
in" gesture with one arm while holding up two fingers with the other, I'm
guessing that means two minutes left in the half, not "peace out."

"Jazz! Shin guards, now!"

I grumble, chug what's left of my drink, and shove my feet into my cleats
like my life depends on it. I wasn't supposed to play.

I had specifically told Coach I wasn't in the mood today, stomach full of
crap ramen, slight headache from last night's too-many-whiskeys, and a
general disinterest in sweating for 45 minutes in 36-degree heat.

But no. Two midfielders down and suddenly I'm relevant again.

I jog toward the sideline with half my jersey still stuck inside my sports bra.
I can already hear Ice, our keeper, yelling, "Nice of you to join us,
superstar!" from the box.

Page 2 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The referee waves me in. I take my spot, left midfield and glance upfield to
clock the other team's formation. They're good. Coordinated, clean passes,
tight spacing.

Black and maroon uniforms that actually match, which is more than I can
say for the seven different shades of blue on our squad.

That's when I see her.

Number 9.

Opposing team. Tall, Lean. Hair tied high in a ponytail that swings when
she moves, like a metronome. She's not yelling or barking orders like some
of the others. She's just... reading the game.

Calm. Still.

Her eyes flick from teammate to ball to space like she's solving a puzzle.

She's beautiful in that quietly terrifying way, like a storm forming behind
glass.

"Focus, Jazz!" someone yells, probably Fern.

Too late. My brain's already spiraling.

The ball's back in play. Number 9 makes a short pass, then pivots and bolts
down the wing. I chase. Of course I chase.

My cleats chew at the turf as I push forward, lungs burning, the sun melting
every thought into instinct.

Ball, Space. Her.

She's fast, faster than I expected. She gets the drop on me by maybe a
stride, and for a second I think she's going to cut across and shoot, but
instead she makes a sharp feint left.

I read it late.

Page 3 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Too late.

We crash.

It's not a little shoulder bump, either. It's the kind of full-bodied, all-limbs,
mutual-annihilation collision that sends us both tumbling, tangled up in a
chaotic tangle of elbows and curses.

I land hard on my side, grass up my shirt, heat ringing in my ears. Someone

gasps nearby, probably our right-back. The ref's whistle pierces the air
again, late, as always.

I look up.

She's on the ground too, maybe a foot away from me, propped up on one
elbow. Her hair's fallen loose on one side. There's a smear of dirt across her
cheek. Her eyes lock on mine, steady.

Measuring. Not angry. Just... curious.

"You okay?" she asks, voice low but not soft.

"I bounce real well," I mutter, blinking.

A corner of her mouth lifts, not a full smile. Just a twitch of amusement.

"You always tackle like that, or am I special?"

I snort. "Only when I'm bored."

She tilts her head slightly, still watching me. "Then I'll try harder to keep
you entertained."

She pushes up to her feet in one smooth motion, then offers me a hand.

For a second, I don't take it. Not because I don't want to, but because I'm
not entirely sure what just happened.

Then I do.

Page 4 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her grip is firm. Warm.

She pulls me up like I weigh nothing. Lets go too soon.

The ref jogs over, gives us both a warning, and tells us to keep it clean.

I'm not even sure what that was.

But I know I don't want it to be the last time it happens.

I get subbed back out five minutes later because our captain claims I "look
like I'm about to pass out."

Not untrue.

I slump onto the bench, grass-stained, half-dazed, and trying to regulate my

breathing in a way that doesn't make me sound like a dying lawnmower.

Water bottle. Sip. Glance up.

She's still out there. Number 9.

Controlling the midfield like she owns it.

I watch her move, not in that creepy, stare-too-long kind of way, but maybe
just one notch below that. There's something fluid in her form, like she's not
running but flowing. Every pass is precise. Every touch is intentional.

Then she does it, that ridiculous cross-field switch with her left foot,
perfectly placed, arcing just over two defenders and landing dead at her
teammate's boots.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"That was disgusting," I murmur to no one. Fern, sitting beside me, glances
over.

"Who're you perving on?"

Page 5 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Just appreciating technical skill," I say, sipping water. "Calm down."

Fern leans in, follows my eyeline. "Ah. Number Nine. Damn, she's hot."

"Sure," I say too fast. "In, like, an average way."

"Jazz. You're literally fogging up your water bottle."

I shove her, but not hard. She cackles.

Down on the pitch, Number 9 slows her run and, I swear, glances toward
the sideline.

Her eyes sweep past our bench.

Pause.

Lock.

On me.

Just for a beat.

Then she smirks. Nothing wide. Just that tiny, controlled quirk of the
mouth.

And she's off again, chasing the next play.

I forget to breathe for a whole ten seconds.

The final whistle blows.

Relief spreads across the pitch like mist, arms go up, cheers go out, a few
players collapse onto the grass, dramatic as hell. We lost. 3-1. Not
embarrassing, but not inspiring either.

I peel myself off the bench and shuffle toward the field for the post-game
ritual, the semi-polite line of high-fives and muttered "good game" lies.

Page 6 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

My legs ache, my shirt's damp, and I can feel a bruise blooming somewhere
on my hip from that collision earlier.

Our teams funnel past each other like two unenthusiastic conveyor belts.

"Good game."

"Nice hustle."

"Solid defense."

Then,

She's in front of me.

Up close, she's even prettier than I remembered. Strong jawline. A strand of

hair stuck to her cheek with sweat. Sharp eyes, still alert. Still watching.

We reach for the handshake at the same time.

Her palm fits against mine with terrifying ease.

"Nice defense," she says, voice low, a little amused. Then she adds, with a
tilt of her head: "Eventually."

I snort. I want to say something clever, something that'll leave her thinking
about me the way I know I'll be thinking about her.

But all that comes out is: "Yeah, well... your footwork is... annoying."

She smiles. Full this time. Wide. Like I surprised her.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

She walks past me, still smiling.

I don't turn around right away. I just stand there, hand still tingling, brain
fully short-circuited.

Page 7 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The locker room smells like menthol rub and denial.

I sit on the edge of the bench, lowel over my head, trying to make peace
with the fact that I just got physically and emotionally leveled by a girl
whose name I still don't know.

Fern is ranting in the background about how the ref missed a clear handball.
I'm nodding at all the right intervals, but my brain's on loop.

Nice defense... eventually.

She could've said nothing. She could've jogged past me and let the moment
dissolve into the blur of end-of-game formalities. But she didn't.

And I don't know what to do with that.

I towel off, change, shove my cleats into a plastic bag, and pull on my
favorite hoodie, the one with the broken zipper and ramen stains on the
sleeve. The weight of the day starts to settle in.

Maybe that was it. Just a flicker. A quick moment of connection between
two strangers on a football pitch.

Not the first time it's happened. Won't be the last.

Right?

I'm halfway to convincing myself of that when our team captain claps her
hands and yells, "Party time! Grab your stuff, we're heading to the hostel
rooftop. Their team's invited too."

My stomach flips.

"They're coming?" I ask, way too fast.

Captain raises an eyebrow. "Yeah. Why?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. Just... tired."

Page 8 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Fern throws an arm around me. "Tired is what beer's for."

I could stay. Call it a night. Go home, replay that one look in my head until
it starts to feel fake.

But I don't.

I grab my bag, zip it shut, and follow the noise out the door.

💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 9 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌷[Link] Announcement🌷
Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025

It's exactly 6:47 p.m. when I take off my helmet, luck it under my arm, and
stare up at the massive iron gate in front of me like it might disappear if I
blink hard enough.

It doesn't.

The Worapunyachai house, scratch that, compound, looms behind the gate
like it's judging me for breathing. Red lile roof. White walls. Elephant
statues on either side of the entrance. A shrine tucked neatly into the garden,
incense probably lit by someone more spiritual than I'll ever be.

I'm already late.

I'm also already sweating through the armpits of my least-wrinkled work

shirt, pale blue, slightly oversized, and stolen from a guy I briefly dated
during my internship. He never asked for it back. I assumed that meant I
won.

My black slacks have dirt on the cuff from crawling under an industrial
conveyor belt at noon. My boots are scuffed, and my eyeliner is from
yesterday.

Page 10 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I adjust my ponytail, swipe my face with a tissue that immediately dies in

battle, and buzz the gate.

A bored guard squints at me through the intercom.

"Khun Jarinya?"

"Who else," I mutter. Then, "Yes."

The gate opens with a groan that sounds exactly like my soul.

By the time I step into the front foyer, the smell of lemongrass, jasmine
rice, and subtle judgment is already thick in the air.

There are voices in the dining room, high-pitched, polite, far too cheerful.

"Jazzie's here!"

Someone calls. Probably one of the aunties. They always call me Jazzie,
like I'm still eight years old with a bowl cut and scraped knees.

I paste on a smile and walk in.

My younger sister Mimi is already at the table, of course. Legs crossed,

earrings sparkling hair glossy and curled. She's wearing a pale yellow
sundress and lip gloss that probably costs more than my entire outfit.

She glances at me and her eyes flicker down my shirt, then my pants, then
my boots.

"You look very... industrial," she says sweetly.

"I like to stay on brand," I reply.

Mimi sips her lemongrass drink like she didn't just insult me. She's twenty,
in university, majoring in "luxury branding", which I'm pretty sure is code
for "being hot for a living."

Page 11 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Jarinya," my mother says sharply from the other end of the table. "You're
late."

"I was working."

"You didn't think to change?"

I glance down at myself like I'm surprised. "This is the cleanest thing I
own."

Aunt Noi chuckles nervously. "She's so funny, this one."

She means: She's so awkward, this one.

I sit. Try not to breathe too hard. The AC is blasting but my spine is still
sweating.

There's at least eight people at the table, maybe more coming. My dad is
halfway through a story about how someone crashed their Porsche outside
Central Chidlom. I nod along, steal a spring roll, and pretend not to notice
the side-eyes from my mom's cousins.

I don't know why we're all here.

But something feels... off.

There's too much smiling. Too much wine.

And my mother's wearing pearls.

That's never a good sign.

I try to keep my mouth full so no one can make me talk. Spring roll. Shrimp
cake. A spoonful of sticky rice. Chew, nod, repeat.

It works for about six minutes.

Then Aunt Thip leans in, all perfume and false eyelashes, and says in a
syrupy tone,

Page 12 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"So, Jazz, are you still doing that... fixing job?"

I swallow. "Engineering. Yes."

She waves a hand. "Right. Tools. Machines. Very hands-on."

She says it like I work in a coal mine.

"I do service and maintenance for industrial robotics," I clarify, because I

hate myself. "Factory automation systems. Mostly conveyor tech. Some
PLC control work."

She blinks slowly. "And you like that?"

I smile. "It pays. And robots don't talk back."

"Yet," Mimi murmurs beside me, flipping her hair.

The table laughs, not with me, exactly.

Someone else, I think Cousin Fai, jumps in with, "You're so brave, you
know. Getting dirty at work. I could never."

You don't say.

"I like dirt," I say. "Makes me feel connected to the Earth."

Aunt Noi leans toward my mother. "You must be so proud. One son in
business, one daughter in... the field."

My mother smiles. Tight. "They're all different. That's normal."

Which is her way of saying, I don't know where I went wrong, but it's too
late to fix it now.

I glance at my dad. He's pretending to be very invested in peeling a pomelo

slice.

The wine keeps flowing. I keep chewing.

Page 13 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Mimi scrolls her phone under the table, perfect posture, legs crossed at the
ankles like a princess. She's probably texting her friend group about how I
look like I crawled out of a maintenance shaft, which, okay, fair.

I reach for another roll just as my mother says, "Jazz, you're turning twenty-
eight this year, aren't you?"

"Twenty-seven."

"So close."

I look up. She's smiling. But it's the kind of smile that makes you check
your back for knives.

"Any plans for the future?"

"Global domination," I say.

"Marriage?"

I pause. "Only if it's to a rich dying man with no children."

More nervous laughter. Less this time.

My mother's jaw tightens. Her wine glass tilts slightly in her hand.

Mimi doesn't say anything, but her lips twitch like she wants to.

Then, just as I'm about to excuse myself for "an urgent email from a robot,"
I hear the front door open.

Footsteps.

Low, male voice.

Tune.

Great.

Page 14 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The room shifts the second he walks in, like someone just opened a window
and let in all the approval.

Tanawat Worapunyachai. Eldest son. Corporate golden boy. Human

PowerPoint presentation.

He's dressed in pale linen trousers and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves
rolled just enough to suggest "relaxed" while still looking like he runs a
mid-sized empire. His hair is perfect. His watch is gold. His loafers
probably cost more than my rent.

And somehow, he still looks bored.

"Sorry I'm late," Tune says, smiling that mild-mannered, noncommittal

smile he's trademarked since birth. "Traffic was a nightmare."

There's a chorus of "it's fine, it's fine," as if the meal hadn't been waiting for
him. My mother immediately starts filling his plate like she's auditioning
for Most Devoted Mother of the Year.

He nods to each person at the table, kisses Aunt Noi on the cheek, gives
Mimi a light squeeze on the shoulder.

Then he gets to me.

"Jazzie," he says.

He taps my forehead with two fingers, monk-style.

I grunt. "Sup, CEO."

"I'm not a CEO."

"Yet."

He sits beside me, adjusting his cuff links like they personally insulted him.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he starts eating, neat, efficient,
methodical. He eats salad like he's auditing it.

Page 15 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"You know why everyone's here?" I ask, voice low.

"Nope," he says, not looking up.

"You're lying."

He smiles, still chewing.

That's his thing, this deadpan, smooth detachment. He could announce the
apocalypse and sound like he's explaining a quarterly report.

"Did you get promoted?" I try again.

He raises an eyebrow. "Not today."

"Mom's pregnant?"

He blinks. "Please don't."

"Then what?"

He shrugs. "Guess we'll find out together."

Liar. He knows. He definitely knows.

But before I can press him, my father stands and taps his spoon against his
wine glass with all the dramatic flair of someone about to unveil a new
luxury condo development.

Everyone goes quiet.

Tune wipes his mouth.

I feel something shift in my chest.

Whatever this is, it's not a promotion.

My father clears his throat like he's about to recite a national anthem.

Page 16 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Everyone," he says, smiling tightly, "thank you for coming tonight on such
short notice. We know it's not easy to gather so many busy people in one
place."

Polite murmurs ripple through the table. Someone actually says "nonsense."

I glance down at my phone and flick open Instagram. My feed is an endless

parade of pupples, political memes, and hot girls who can do deadlifts. I
double-tap a thigh pic out of muscle memory.

Dad continues.

"We wanted you all here to share some happy news."

I already know what he's going to say. I feel it in my gut. The pearls. The
wine. The fake smiles. Tune being suspiciously not-annoyed by anything.

I lock my phone and look up.

Tune is calmly dabbing his mouth with a cloth napkin like this has nothing
to do with him.

"We are very pleased," my father says, "to announce the engagement of our
son, Tanawat..." he pauses dramatically, "...to Miss Inthira Visetsakul."

There's a collective intake of breath, followed by applause.

I don't clap.

Not right away.

Because my brain is buffering.

Inthira?

Visetsakul?

My stomach drops.

Page 17 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

That name.

That name hits my chest like a free-fall rollercoaster.

I turn to Tune, but he's just smiling, like someone reading a menu. I turn to
my mother, who is already pretending to wipe a tear. Mimi's clapping with
perfectly timed delight.

I slowly, very slowly, lift my hands and give two limp claps.

Inthira Visetsakul.

Ink.

It can't be.

It better not be.

The dining room doors open.

And there she is.

Number Nine.

Ink.

My glass slips out of my hand before I even register moving. It clinks

against the plate, tips, and spills a perfect arc of water straight into my lap.
Mimi gasps like I just murdered the tablecloth. My mother hisses my name.

But all I see is her.

She hasn't changed. Not really. Four years, and she's still got that same
upright posture, that same poised way of carrying herself, like every move
has already been choreographed.

Her hair is longer now, darker, sleek down her back instead of tied high and
tight. She wears a soft ivory blouse, tucked neatly into a pencil skirt, the
kind of outfit that says I am both respectable and unattainable.

Page 18 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her face, God. It's sharper, somehow. Cheekbones like she knows what
they're for. Eyes that sweep the room once and take inventory of everything.
When they land on me....

I freeze.

She doesn't flinch. Doesn't widen her eyes. Doesn't let out the tiniest gasp of
recognition.

She just... nods. Polite. Formal. Like I'm no different from Aunt Thip or the
goddamn table centerpiece.

I can feel my pulse in my throat.

Dad's still talking, introducing her like she's a stock acquisition.

"The Visetsakul family has been close with ours for many years, and we are
delighted to unite them properly at last..."

But the words float away.

All I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears.

Ink sits beside Tune with perfect composure. She folds her hands in her lap.
She doesn't look at me again.

I grip the edge of my chair like it's the only thing tethering me to Earth.

No.

No, no, no.

This isn't happening.

I scrape my chair back so fast it squeals across the marble. Every head
turns.

"Bathroom," I say, already moving.

Page 19 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

My mother starts to protest, but I'm halfway down the hallway before she
can get the words out.

The guest bathroom is cold, all marble and orchids, with a mirror that has
no mercy. I lock the door, brace both hands on the sink, and lean in.

My reflection stares back: damp shirt clinging to my chest from the spill,
eyeliner smudged, hairline damp with sweat. Gorgeous, in a vaguely
unhinged way.

I splash water on my face anyway. It doesn't help.

"Fuck," I whisper.

Water drips down my chin. My breathing sounds too loud.

"Fuck."

I push my hair back, pace once across the bathroom, then back again. My
boots echo on the tile.

It's her. It's really her. Not some doppelgänger. Not a coincidence. Number
Nine. The girl from the pitch.

The one who smiled like she knew a secret. The one I replayed in my head
for months, until the memory wore thin.

Now she's here. Sitting next to my brother. Wearing pearls and composure.

I squeeze my eyes shut. My brain's trying to catch up, but all it gives me is
static.

This is insane. This is....

I laugh once, sharp, at the mirror. My face looks deranged.

"Nope," I tell my reflection, jabbing a finger at her. "Absolutely not. We are

not doing this. We are not having a breakdown at my brother's engagement
dinner."

Page 20 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Silence. The orchids look smug.

I press my forehead against the cool mirror and let out a long breath.

"Shit..."

.
💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 21 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌷02. Familiar Strangers🌷

I towel my face dry with a wad of paper napkins, none of which help, and
walk back toward the dining room like I'm heading into an execution
chamber.

The laughter hits me first, the kind of over-bright laughter families reserve
for special occasions and public scandals. Plates clink, wine glasses refill,
someone's talking about a golf trip.

I step inside.

She's still there.

Ink. Sitting upright beside Tune, her hands folded neatly on her lap like
she's modeling for a family values brochure.

Her posture is ridiculous, Not stiff, exactly, just... perfect. Like she was
born with etiquette coded into her DNA.

I slide back into my chair, the legs scraping across the marble floor.
Everyone turns to glance at me, then goes right back to their conversations,
as if I haven't just had my entire soul knocked sideways.

I keep my eyes on my plate. Rice. Curry. Anything but her.

It lasts maybe four seconds.

My gaze flicks up on its own, traitor that it is.

Ink is already looking at me.

Page 22 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Not smiling. Not frowning. Just... polite. Neutral. A nod of

acknowledgment, like we're strangers on a train.

My throat dries up.

She turns back to my brother, murmurs something I can't hear, and the
polite chatter swells again.

I stab a piece of shrimp with more force than necessary.

Because apparently, the girl who once left me sleepless for weeks is now a
stranger who doesn't even flinch when she sees me.

And somehow, that feels worse than anything else.

The interrogation begins in waves, led, as always, by the aunties.

"So, Inthira," Aunt Thip purrs, wine glass balanced between manicured
fingers, "what do you do?"

"I'm an English tutor," Ink replies smoothly, not a second's hesitation. Her
voice is steady, the exact volume needed to carry but not dominate. "Private
academy, Sukhumvit area. Mostly upper-secondary students preparing for
international programs."

Aunt Noi nods approvingly. "Ah, very respectable. Not like those call
centers."

I spear a cucumber slice a little too aggressively.

"And your parents?" Cousin Fai chimes in. "I remember your mother, so
elegant. Always hosting at her place in Sathorn."

Ink inclines her head. "Yes. My mother still entertains often. She's very
active with the Ladies' Association. My father travels frequently for his
work with the chamber of commerce."

There are murmurs of approval. I can practically hear the gold stars being
handed out.

Page 23 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Then Ink adds, lightly but firmly: "They'll join the formal engagement
ceremony next month, as tradition. Tonight is just for your family, and I'm
honored to be welcomed here."

The table softens with polite sighs. Aunt Noi claps her hands gently like Ink
just solved diplomacy.

Of course. Strategic. Cultural. Perfect.

I finally open my mouth. "Wow. Sounds like they raised you for the
interview circuit."

The words come out sharper than I meant.

The air dips a degree.

My mother shoots me a daggered look. Mimi covers a laugh with her hand.
Tune pauses with his fork midair.

Ink turns her head toward me.

Her eyes meet mine. Calm. Level.

"I suppose they did," she says, tone unbothered. "And it seems to be
useful."

A beat. Then she looks away, back to the aunties.

Conversation picks right back up.

But my fork is still suspended in midair.

Because that wasn't just composure. That was precision.

Like she knew exactly how to swat me down without lifting a finger.

The clinking and murmurs of dinner wash over me like static. Everyone's
buzzing about where the ceremony should be, what kind of flowers, what
date works best with the auspicious calendar.

Page 24 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I jab at my plate, chewing without tasting.

And then, because gravity hates me, my fork slips out of my fingers and
clatters to the floor.

I duck under the table to grab it.

That's when I see them.

Ink's ahkles. Crossed neatly, perfectly aligned with the legs of her chair. Her
shoes are modest, low heels, black patent leather. Her skirt drapes just so,
not a wrinkle in sight.

It's ridiculous, the kind of detail I notice. But there it is. She looks
composed even under the damn table, like she's performing for an invisible
audience.

And suddenly I remember the pitch. Her balance. The way she never
panicked, never flailed, even when we collided at full speed. She'd looked
at me then the same way she did just now, calm, assessing, like she already
knew the outcome.

My chest tightens.

I lunge back up too fast. My knee slams into the underside of the table with
a thunderous thunk.

Everyone jolts. My water glass rattles dangerously.

"Jesus," I mutter, clutching my leg.

Mimi leans over, lips glossy and wicked. "Careful, middle child. Don't hurt
yourself before dessert."

Her smirk is aimed like a dart, sharp and gleeful.

I grit my teeth, force a laugh, and stab at my rice again.

Page 25 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Ink hasn't moved. Not a blink, not a shift in posture. But I know she heard
it. I know she felt the jolt.

And for a second, just a second, I swear the corner of her mouth twitched.

Tune decides to play host, which is never a good sign.

"So," he says, gesturing between us with his chopsticks, "you two should
get along well. Close in age, right?"

My mother hums approvingly, like this is the most insightful observation in

the world.

I look up slowly, deadpan. "Yeah. Great criteria. We should all be best

friends with our neighbors too."

Mimi snorts into her drink,

Tune ignores me, of course. He turns to Ink, who hasn't even blinked.
"You're twenty-eight?"

"Yes," she says simply.

"And Jazz is twenty-seven."

"Still twenty-seven," I say. "Don't age me up."

Ink's gaze flicks to me. Brief. Cool. Then back to Tune. "I'm sure we'll get
along just fine."

Her tone is so smooth, so courteous, it almost sounds like a compliment.

Almost.

But there's a glint in her eyes that makes my throat close up.

I shovel rice into my mouth to cover it. Too fast. Too much. I nearly choke,
coughing once, loud enough to make Aunt Thip reach for the water jug.

Page 26 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Mimi pats my back way too hard. "Careful, Jazz. Don't die before the
wedding."

The table laughs again.

I keep coughing, eyes watering, while Ink watches me with that maddening
calm.

Like she knows exactly what she's doing.

Mimi's been quiet for too long. Which means trouble.

She leans forward, chin in her hand, eyes sparkling like a cat that's just
spotted something small and breakable.

"So, Khun Inthira," she says sweetly, "have you ever played football?"

My fork freezes midair.

The table chuckles politely at the question, like it's a cute icebreaker. But
Ink pauses, the kind of pause that's just a half-second too heavy.

She looks across the table, directly at me.

My stomach flips.

"Yes," she says finally, turning back to Mimi. "A little. At university."

Mimi claps her hands. "Knew it! You look sporty, Jazz plays too,
sometimes."

"Played," I mutter into my rice.

"Still plays," Mimi corrects. Her grin is knife-sharp. "She was obsessed.
Went to every practice. Every match."

I glare at her. She knows exactly what she's doing.

Ink's lips curve, just faintly. Not a smile, not really. But something.

Page 27 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her gaze flicks to me again, a blink-and-miss-it glance, before she

straightens her posture and lifts her glass with elegant precision.

"To family," she says.

Everyone raises their glasses.

I raise mine too, hand unsteady.

Because I don't know if I just imagined that look. Or if she meant it for me.

The dinner drags on with the usual theater: dessert trays, wine top-ups,
compliments traded like currency.

I laugh when I'm supposed to. Nod when the aunties gush about venue
options. Pretend not to notice Mimi's sly glances every time Ink speaks.

Mostly, I keep my eyes down. On my plate. On my phone. Anywhere but

her.

Because every time I risk a glance, she's already not looking at me.

And somehow, that feels deliberate.

The dishes are finally cleared. Relatives start gathering handbags and
murmuring goodbyes.

My father thanks everyone like he's hosting a press conference. Tune is

smiling faintly at nothing, as if he's already somewhere else.

I slip away first, heading down the hallway toward the back exit.

Footsteps behind me. Light. Unhurried.

I don't need to turn around to know.

The corridor narrows near the archway. I step slightly left, giving space.
She steps slightly right, same idea.

Page 28 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

And somehow, we still brush.

Her arm against mine, just fabric on fabric, but it jolts through me like
static.

Neither of us looks up. Neither of us says a word.

Her perfume lingers, subtle, not sweet, something sharper.

I keep walking, every nerve awake, until the voices of the dining room fade
behind me.

But I can still feel the press of her sleeve against mine.

.
💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 29 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌷03. Sister-in-Law Duties🌷

Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025
Copy : Sun Yan

I almost make it out. Almost.

But my mother has the reflexes of a hawk and the instincts of a debt
collector. She intercepts me by the entryway, pearls gleaming, smile tight.

"Jarinya," she says.

Full name. I'm doomed.

"Yes, dearest mother?"

She ignores the sarcasm. "You'll help Inthira adjust. Take her shopping,
accompany her to temple, show her where to get her hair done. You're the
closest in age, after all."

I blink. "You mean Mimi's too young and Tune's too busy, so I'm free
labor."

Her eyes narrow. "Don't be crude. It's family."

"Uh-huh." I cross my arms. "Since when do we outsource babysitting for

fiancées?"

Page 30 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She inhales deeply through her nose, like she's counting to ten.

"This isn't babysitting. It's responsibility. We are joining two families."

I should stop there. I don't.

"You say that like Tune and Ink are childhood sweethearts or something."

"Don't be ridiculous." She waves a hand. "They didn't know each other
before this."

My mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again.

"Wait... what?"

"Of course they didn't." She says it like it's obvious. "Tune told us years ago
he didn't have the patience for dating. So, we spoke to our circle. The
Visetsakul family is perfect. Good background, good reputation. Their
daughter is respectable."

I choke on absolutely nothing. "So, he... he literally asked you guys to find
him a wife?"

"Yes." She tilts her chin. "It's practical. He's thirty-two, he doesn't waste
time chasing girls like some people."

I stare. My brain short-circuits.

Some people me.

"That's insane," I mutter. "That's like... like outsourcing romance to HR."

My mother's eyes flash. "Not everything has to be chaos, Jazz. Some people
like certainty."

And for one second, I swear her gaze cuts past me, toward the dining room,
toward where Ink is still sitting, poised and calm.

"Now," she says briskly, "go warm up the car. You'll take her home."

Page 31 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

My jaw drops. "What? Why me?"

"Because Tune asked."

And just like that, I'm sentenced.

I stomp toward the driveway like a condemned prisoner. My boots echo

against the stone tiles, my keys dig into my palm.

Behind me, voices spill out into the humid night, relatives saying goodbye,
Mimi laughing too loudly, my mother thanking everyone for coming.

And then:

"Jazzie."

I grit my teeth. Tune, leaning casually against his Lexus like he just stepped
out of a lifestyle ad.

"What?"

"You'll drop Inthira off. Sathorn isn't far, and it's on your way back."

"It's not on my way back."

He shrugs. "Close enough."

"Why can't you drive her?"

"I'm staying to help Mom with guests."

"That's the worst excuse I've ever heard."

"Still works." He grins mildly, like this is all very amusing.

I flip him off. He pats my shoulder like I just volunteered.

And then she appears.

Page 32 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Ink. Walking down the front steps with the same grace she had walking
onto that football pitch four years ago. Perfect posture, blouse crisp, heels
clicking softly. She doesn't look tired. Doesn't look ruffled. Just...
composed.

"Thank you for the ride," she says, slipping into the passenger seat like she's
practiced it her whole life.

"Sure," I mutter, sliding behind the wheel. My hands are damp against the
leather.

I start the engine.

The gate groans open.

And suddenly, it's just us.

Two feet apart.

Silence louder than the city outside.

I grip the steering wheel like it might eject me if I loosen up even a little.

Bangkok at night is a blur of headlights, motorbikes, and neon signs.

Usually, I like it, the noise, the chaos, the sense that no one's watching.
Tonight it feels like the whole city is tuned into the dead air Inside my car.

I clear my throat. "So. Sathorn, huh?"

"Yes," Ink says.

One word. Polite. Neutral.

"Nice area."

"It is."

I glance sideways. She's staring straight ahead, profile lit by passing

streetlamps. Smooth line of jaw, calm expression, not a single hair out of

Page 33 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

place. Like she's in an ad for serenity.

I try again. "How do you like tutoring? Sounds.... fun?"

She turns slightly, enough to acknowledge the question.

"It's fulfilling. The students are ambitious."

"Right." I nod too hard. "Nothing like inspiring the next generation of...
corporate overlords."

The corner of her mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. Not not a smile, either.

I grip the wheel tighter.

Traffic slows to a crawl. We roll to a stop at a red light. My turn signal ticks
loud in the silence.

I risk another glance.

And she's already looking at me.

Our eyes catch. Hold. Too long.

My throat goes dry.

The light flips green, I jerk the wheel forward, nearly honking at myself.

She faces forward again, calm as ever.

I'm sweating through my shirt.

I can't stand the silence anymore. It feels like the air itself is pressing down
on me.

"So," I blurt, "you and Tune don't even know each other?"

Her head turns slightly, just enough to let me know she heard. Her
expression doesn't shift.

Page 34 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"We met last week," she says. "Briefly."

My hands tighten on the wheel. "Last week?"

"Yes."

"That's..." I almost laugh, but it comes out sharp. "That's insane."

"It's common," she replies. No heat in her voice. Just calm fact. "Our
families arranged it. My parents approved. Your parents approved."

"Yeah, but... he doesn't know you."

"Your brother asked them to find someone."

The words slam into me like a loose ball to the ribs.

"He what?"

"He said he didn't have the time or interest for dating. He trusted them to
choose."

I stare at the road, headlights smearing across my windshield.

"So, he outsourced his love life. Like hiring a consultant."

Ink exhales softly, almost amused. "Some people like certainty."

I nearly choke. "That's not certainty. That's... it's..."

But I stop, because her eyes are on me again. Calm, Clear. Not defensive.
Just steady.

And I can't figure out if she's mocking me, or if she really believes it.

The car ride winds down in tense silence, Neon signs give way to darker
streets, high-rises looming like watchtowers. I follow the pin she sent to my
phone, though I didn't need it, I've been to Sathorn a hundred times for
work.

Page 35 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Finally, she points ahead. "Here."

I pull up to a sleek condo building with tinted glass and a security guard
who salutes as we roll in. The lobby glows with marble and orchids, too
clean to be real.

I kill the engine. My hands stay clenched on the wheel.

Ink unbuckles her seatbelt, movements smooth, deliberate. She reaches for
the door handle, then pauses.

"Thank you for the ride," she says, turning slightly toward me. Her voice is
polite, perfectly neutral, the kind of line you could say to anyone.

But then, her eyes linger.

Just a beat too long.

There's something there. Not a smile, not a frown. More like a question.
Like she's waiting to see if I'll say something.

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.

She blinks once, slow, then steps out, closing the door with a quiet click.

I sit frozen, staring at the space she left behind.

The air in the car is hot, thick, humming.

I press my forehead to the steering wheel and mutter, "What the fuck."

.
💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 36 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌷[Link] & Ghosts🌷

1:14 a.m.

The ceiling of my condo has two dead mosquitoes stuck to it and a crack in
the paint shaped like a shrimp. I've been staring at both for twenty minutes.

The fan rattles gently above my head, doing its best. I'm sprawled across
my mattress in shorts and a tank top, one leg halfway off the bed, phone
balanced on my chest, brain on fire.

I scroll through memes. Text threads. Cat videos. My inbox. I even open an
unread email from HR about ergonomic posture guidelines.

Nothing helps.

Every time I close my eyes, I see her.

Ink, sitting with her ankles crossed like she was posing for a portrait. Ink,
saying "Some people like certainty" with a calmness that made my blood
boil.

Ink, brushing past me in the hallway like we weren't on the same pitch four
years ago, colliding like planets.

It's not fair.

She looks the same. She sounds the same. And she acted like none of it
meant anything.

Like I didn't mean anything.

Page 37 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I roll over and bury my face into a pillow that smells like lemongrass
detergent and too many unresolved feelings.

This isn't a crush. This is... a ghost that never left.

I grab my phone again and open a blank note. The title auto-fills to Note
274. That's how many half-thoughts I've written and never deleted.

I type:

"She said thank you like we've never met."

Then I stare at it for a long time.

Then I delete it.

The fan clinks overhead. The shrimp-shaped crack doesn't move.

And neither do I.

Late morning in Bangkok smells like exhaust, grilled pork, and half-dried
cement. I'm standing outside a convenience store waiting for a technician
who's twenty minutes late.

My back's damp from the heat, and my patience ran out four minutes ago.

I shift my weight, pull my phone out, scroll for the sake of pretending not to
be bored.

Notifications blink at me, none of them from anyone I care about. The sun
drills into my neck. I adjust my baseball cap.

Across the road, a group of university students in football jerseys tumbles

out of a tuk-tuk, laughing, loud and loose with energy.

Page 38 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

They're wearing mismatched socks and shin guards and sweat like they
don't even notice it. One girl kicks an invisible ball at another, who dodges
dramatically and almost knocks over a fruit cart.

It catches me off guard.

They're all around twenty, Confident. Messy. Not thinking ahead. My age,
four years ago.

A girl with a number 9 on her back jogs toward the others. Her ponytail
swings the same way.

My stomach tightens. There's no reason for it. It isn't her. Of course it isn't
her. Still, the memory slams into me like contact on a wet field.

I blink hard and glance away.

The first time I saw her, she was wearing number 9. White jersey. Navy
shorts. Black cleats with the tips worn out. Her movements weren't flashy.
They were clean. Unshakable. That's what made me notice her.

She played like the field belonged to her. Like she didn't need to prove it.
No yelling. No flexing. Just absolute presence.

I'd never hated someone's confidence so fast.

The tech finally pulls up on his motorbike, helmet half-strapped,

apologizing before he parks.

I nod, pretend I'm fine, and check the job order on my clipboard. My
handwriting looks like it was done in a moving car.

We walk toward the back entrance of the building we're scheduled to

inspect, passing a pair of kids kicking a crumpled juice box down the alley.

One of them yells, "Goal!" loud enough to startle a cat out of a trash bin.

I don't laugh. I keep walking.

Page 39 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The heat presses against the back of my neck, and all I can think about is
the feeling of grass against my knees and a girl who smiled like she was
already winning.

The site is a bottling facility out past Rama III, loud with compressors and
humming conveyor belts. I'm here to check the line sensors and recalibrate
a lagging PLC.

It's the kind of work I usually like. Mechanical, predictable, no talking

unless a part breaks or someone forgets to ground a panel.

Today, I nearly solder the wrong terminal twice.

P'Tor, my lead tech, leans over the railing above the line and whistles. "You
short-circuiting, Jazz?"

I grunt, fix the wiring, and don't look up.

He doesn't buy it.

"You're slow," he says. "You're never slow."

I shrug. "Didn't sleep."

"Night shift again?"

"Family dinner."

His eyebrows lift in mock sympathy. "Worse."

I keep my hands moving, clipping the wire casing closed. Usually I'd have a
comeback.

Something about his receding hairline or the way he chews gum like it's a
crime scene. Today I'm blank.

He leans closer, lowers his voice. "You've got that look."

"What look."

Page 40 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"The one guys get when they're trying not to text a girl back too fast."

I blink up at him. "I don't..."

He grins. "Finally."

"There's no girl," I snap. Too fast.

His grin widens. "I didn't say girl. You did."

"Go check the panel voltage."

He laughs all the way down the catwalk.

I grab the multimeter harder than necessary. The screen flickers 24V, stable,
steady, like something in this world actually knows what it's doing.

There is no girl. There's a woman I collided with once, four years ago. A
woman who's now engaged to my brother, apparently by request.

A woman who remembers me, I'm sure of it, but acts like we're coworkers
who've exchanged exactly one email.

That's not the same thing. It can't be.

The PLC beeps. I hit reset.

Nothing in my hands feels real today.

Mimi's in the kitchen when I get home, standing barefoot on the cool tile
floor in a tiny crop top and matching silk shorts, poking at an avocado with
a spoon like it offended her.

"You're late," she says.

"It's not dinner," I mutter, kicking off my boots by the door. "I'm not late for
anything."

She shrugs. "I made salmon bowls."

Page 41 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I blink. "You cooked?"

"Don't act so shocked. I boiled rice and put things on top of it. That counts."

The air-conditioning is blasting, cold enough to sting. I cross the kitchen

and grab a can of iced green tea from the fridge, then lean against the
counter while she plates two bowls like she's hosting a lifestyle vlog.

Mimi slides one over to me. "So."

I freeze mid-sip. "What."

She smiles, slow and evil. "You remember her."

I keep drinking.

"She's the girl from the football match, isn't she?" Her tone is sing-song
now. "The one you were weird about for, like, months. Tall. Quiet. Scary
calm."

My jaw tightens. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do." Mimi stabs at her salmon. "I remember you came home from that
match acting like you'd seen a ghost in cleats."

I grab a pair of chopsticks and dig into the rice. "You're being dramatic."

"Am I?" Her eyebrows lift. "You knew her name was Inthira before anyone
said it out loud. You dropped your glass. You nearly choked on rice twice.
You didn't even make fun of her blouse."

"It was a very neutral blouse," I mumble.

Mimi laughs. "You're so obvious."

I point my chopsticks at her. "Don't say anything to Mom."

"I'm not suicidal." She sips her iced tea with exaggerated innocence. "I just
think it's funny. You had a crush on someone once, and now she's your

Page 42 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

almost sister-in-law."

"It wasn't a crush."

"It still is."

I set my bowl down and walk out.

Behind me, her voice floats through the condo.

"Better get used to her face, Jazzie. She's not going anywhere."

I should've gone to the gym. Or washed dishes. Or sat on the balcony and
let the mosquitoes eat me alive. Anything to stay out of my room.

Instead, I'm on the floor with my closet door cracked open, rummaging
through a pile of things I haven't looked at in years.

Concert tees. Hoodies. Old cords. A volleyball medal I never earned. Then I
find it, wedged at the back like it buried itself on purpose.

My uni hoodie. Faded navy. Gold piping down the arms. The left sleeve still
stained faintly with sports drink.

I pull it out and sit cross-legged on the floor. The fabric feels rougher than I
remember. The scent's all wrong now, dusty cotton, faint mildew, the ghost
of something citrusy that's long since faded.

I flip it over.

There it is. My name. JAZZ, stitched in bold white letters across the back.
Beneath it, my number: 17.

I'd worn this the night we played against Chula. The night we lost in
overtime. The night I collided with a girl from the other team and felt the
entire world tip a few inches sideways.

I don't remember the score. I barely remember who scored. I remember her.

Page 43 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I press the hoodie into my lap and stare at it like it's going to answer
something.

It doesn't.

My phone buzzes behind me. I ignore it.

Outside, somewhere across the city, ink is probably folding towels like a
normal person. Probably not haunted by the curve of my jaw or the scrape
of my voice. Probably never even thought about that night again.

I lean forward, rest my arms on the bundle of fabric, and close my eyes.

Memory is a dangerous thing when it gets permission to breathe.

.
💜💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 44 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌷05. Back Then🌷

Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025
Copy : Sun Yan

Four years ago

Kasetsart University, Exhibition Match Night

The heat didn't break, even after the sun went down. It clung to the turf like
syrup. Thick. Heavy. Gross.

I paced the sidelines, stretching my legs so hard my joints popped. My

boots were already on. Shin guards strapped. Jersey damp before I even got
on the pitch.

Coach wasn't looking at me.

I chewed the inside of my cheek and stared at the scoreboard like I could
will the numbers to change. 1-1. Twenty-two minutes left

We had a full crowd tonight, students yelling nonsense from the bleachers,
vuvuzelas, music from someone's portable speaker. A couple guys were
draped in our team colors and swinging shirts around like they were at a
concert.

I hated not playing. Even more, I hated not knowing why I wasn't playing.

Page 45 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Jazz," Coach finally barked. "Warm up."

I was already moving before he finished.

"Subbing in for Rin," he added, jerking his chin toward midfield.

Rin jogged off, sweaty and exhausted, high-fived me. "Good luck, she's
brutal," she said.

"Who?"

She just laughed and pointed behind her. "Number nine. You'll see."

I stepped onto the field, squinting against the stadium lights. The ground
felt springy under my cleats. My pulse kicked up. That familiar pre-match
itch buzzed through my chest.

Across the field, their team reset. I scanned the lineup...

Then saw her.

Number 9.

Tall. Straight-backed. Hair pulled into a low ponytail. Her socks were
pristine. Her face unreadable. She stood still in the way that made it obvious
she didn't need to move yet. Everyone else adjusted, fidgeted, cracked their
necks.

She just waited.

Coach yelled a formation. I nodded out of habit, even though I already

knew what to do.

Number 9 tilted her head slightly toward me as we jogged into position.

Not a nod. Not even an acknowledgment. Just a flicker of recognition that I

existed on the same grass.

That was the first time I saw her.

Page 46 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

And everything after that moved just a little differently.

We kicked off again.

I pushed up into the left flank, running hot. The crowd noise dulled into a
low roar in my ears, not gone, just distant, like it was happening
underwater.

My cleats gripped the turf with every stride. I called for the ball, felt it hit
the inside of my foot like a heartbeat.

Two passes, one feint. I pushed past midfield and turned...

She was already there.

Number 9.

Not charging. Not scrambling. Just there. Positioned like she knew where
I'd end up before I did.

I pivoled. She moved with me, matching pace, not lunging in. Just...
waiting.

It threw me off. Most defenders try to scare you... body up, shout, play dirty
if the ref isn't watching. She didn't need any of that.

She just was.

I passed off to Fern before I did something stupid.

"Switch wings!" Coach shouled.

I nodded and dropped back, using the extra space to study her.

She was quick, not flashy, but efficient. Every turn, every touch of the ball
was low, centered, like she practiced under gravity twice as heavy.

She didn't call out plays. Barely spoke. Just small gestures. A look. A nod.
Somehow her whole team read her without words.

Page 47 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

It was annoying.

It was hypnotic.

A midfielder from our side tried to outpace her. She cut the line off so
cleanly I didn't even see the step. Just, one second the girl had a lane, the
next, she didn't.

No drama. No celebration. Just back into position.

I started breathing harder. Not from running.

From watching.

The ball came back to me near midfield, bouncing clean off a rebound. I
took the touch, pivoted left, and bolted.

Someone yelled my name. I tuned it out.

My steps stretched long across the turf. The goal wasn't close, but it was
open enough. One clean break and I'd be past them. Past her.

Except I wasn't.

Because suddenly, she was right there.

Again.

Number 9.

Like she'd materialized out of nowhere, positioned perfectly, just far enough
to be legal, just close enough to destroy me.

I didn't slow down. I should've. I didn't.

Our bodies collided like magnets that had changed their minds too late.

It wasn't a soft impact. Her shoulder hit mine hard. I staggered. My hip
twisted. The ball slipped. I hit the ground in a scrape of turf and pride.

Page 48 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She landed next to me, not hard, not clumsy. More like... a large cat
deciding she was done with gravity.

Whistles blew. The ref was already signaling a clean play.

I pushed up on one elbow, breath caught in my throat. My leg burned. My

elbow was definitely going to bruise.

She looked over at me.

Expression unreadable. Calm. The same fucking calm.

"You okay?" she asked.

Her voice was low. Smooth. Almost lazy.

I opened my mouth to say something clever, something cocky, like 'I've

been tackled harder by my niece.'

Instead, I blinked at her and said:

"Yeah. Fine. Turf tastes amazing tonight."

She stared at me.

And then, swear to god, the corner of her mouth curved. Just barely.

Not a grin. Not a smirk. Something smaller, meaner. The kind of smile
you'd miss if you weren't already looking for it.

She stood up, offered me nothing, and jogged back into position.

I stayed on the ground for a beat longer than I needed.

Cool. Perfect. I'll just lie here and reevaluate my entire life, then.

I got back up like nothing happened. A small child waved at me from the
stands. I gave her a thumbs up to prove I was fine and definitely not
mentally unraveling over someone's cheekbone structure.

Page 49 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The match went on. The ball moved. Feet pounded. Someone yelled
"switch!" and someone else yelled "man on!" and I kept pretending I was
paying attention.

I wasn't.

Every time I thought I'd finally zoned in, I'd glance up, and she'd be there.
Number 9. In motion or standing still, didn't matter. She existed like a fact I
was supposed to memorize.

She didn't smile much. Didn't talk to her teammates, either. Her
communication was all subtle, small shifts, quick glances, the nod of a chin.

It drove me nuts.

People like that, calm, untouchable, perfectly composed, always make me

itch. I don't trust anyone who never yells.

We crossed paths near the sideline during a throw-in. I was marking another
player. She jogged past, light on her feet.

Right as she passed me, she said, quietly, without looking:

"You breathe loud when you're focused."

My spine straightened like I'd been hit with a static charge.

She didn't slow down. Didn't look back. Just kept moving, like that was the
end of it.

I stood there blinking like a freshly rebooted laptop.

Then the ball was back in play and I had to pretend I hadn't just been...
noticed. In high definition.

Of course I breathed loud. I had a deviated septum and bad luck.

Still. The way she said it, like she'd been tracking me all match.

Page 50 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I didn't say anything the rest of the half. Not to Coach. Not to my
teammates. Not even to the girl who accidentally elbowed me in the ribs
during a corner.

I was too busy trying not to look again.

Which, of course, meant I looked.

And near the final whistle, as the crowd surged and the ref raised the card
for extra time, she looked right back.

One glance.

Then a small twitch of her lips.

There it was again. That not-quite smile.

The kind that meant she was winning something I hadn't realized we were
playing.

The ref blew the whistle, long and final.

3-1.

Not a close loss. Not a near miss. A proper beating.

A couple of our defenders kicked the turf. Fern chucked her scrunchie into
the grass and cursed in three languages. Someone behind me was already
blaming the weather.

I didn't say anything. My lungs burned, and my pulse felt too fast to belong
to me.

Across the field, Number 9 peeled off her armband, rolled her shoulders,
and didn't even bother looking pleased. No fist pump. No team hug. No
over-the-top celebration. Just... calm.

Like she'd known how this would end from the moment she stepped on the
field.

Page 51 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I dragged my jersey off and wiped the back of my neck. The sweat made
my skin itch. So did the silence in my chest.

Coach barked something I tuned out. My focus stayed on her.

She was already heading toward the side gate, skirting the crowd of players
on both teams.

No high-fives, no water bottle toss, no debrief. She left like she had a dinner
reservation somewhere quieter.

That was it?

After the hit, the eye contact, the ridiculous comment about how I breathe,
she was just going to vanish?

I stood still, towel in hand, blinking hard against the stadium lights. My
whole body buzzed like it wanted to chase something it couldn't name.

"Jazz!" Fern shouted from behind. "You coming or marrying her?"

I waved her off with the towel. "We're taking things slow."

A couple of the girls laughed. No one asked what I meant.

I turned back once.

She was already gone.

The locker room smelled like sour socks, medicated spray, and collective
disappointment.

Someone had already claimed the shower closest to the fan. Someone else
was complaining about cramps like they'd been shot in the leg.

I peeled my socks off one layer at a time. My shin guards hit the floor with
a pathetic clatter.

No one spoke to me. I guess I looked too... whatever I looked like.

Page 52 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I sat on the bench with a towel around my neck and stared at the wall,
trying to replay the tackle, I kept seeing flashes, grass, sweat, her eyes. That
voice, right in my ear.

You breathe loud when you're focused.

Cool. Love that. Very casual. Very fine.

"Alright, hags," our captain said, clapping once, too loud. "Shut up and
shower quick. There's an after-party. That little open-air place near the
canal."

There were groans. A few half-hearted whoops.

"Both teams?" someone asked.

"Yeah," she said, already texting. "Chula's group's going. Their captain said
they'd swing by. Coaches are skipping it, so no lectures tonight. Don't be
gross."

Fern perked up immediately. "Jazz, you in?"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

"Come on. You'll like it. It's beer, fried things, and probably at least two
girls with crushes on you."

I gave her a look. "Why would I care about girls who have crushes on me?"

"You always care. You're just bad at following up."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

The showers hissed behind us. Steam drifted past the broken fan. Someone
passed me half a KitKat bar. I ate it without thinking.

My knees ached. My pride hurt worse.

Page 53 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

An after-party sounded like the last place I should be.

Which, of course, made it the only place I wanted to go.

.
💜💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 54 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌷06. Just for One Night🌷

The place was half a restaurant, half a parking lot, and all noise.

Fairy lights dangled from cheap bamboo poles. Mismatched chairs scraped
concrete. There were maybe four tables left under the roof; the rest of us
sprawled out under the open sky, balancing plates on our laps and sweating
into our drinks.

The grill was working overtime, skewers, chicken wings, pork neck,
sausages that were definitely undercooked but somehow perfect. Someone
was blasting Thai hip-hop from a Bluetooth speaker. A dog wandered
through the crowd like it owned the place.

I was already regretting my choice.

Not because I hated parties. Just because I knew exactly why I was here,
and pretending otherwise was exhausting.

"Oi, Jazzzzzz!" Fern hollered across two tables, already holding up a beer
like she'd won something. "You're late! The fish cakes are gone!"

I slid into a red plastic chair beside her. "Tragic. Send flowers to my
family."

She shoved a bottle toward me. "You have to catch up."

"I don't have to do anything."

"You're sulking."

"I'm recovering."

Page 55 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"From what?"

I opened the beer and took a long drink. "A mild case of ego death."

Someone behind me laughed and threw a fried chicken bone at someone

else. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and leaned back in the chair until
it squeaked dangerously.

People were loud. Relaxed. Stupid. Most of us were still in our kits, though
some of the Chula girls had changed, tank tops, denim shorts, sandals. One
was already dancing in a circle of chairs with a water bottle in her hand like
it was a microphone.

I scanned the crowd casually. At least, I told myself it was casual.

Then my eyes caught on her.

Standing near the far table. Holding a soda can.

Not a jersey now, just a plain black t-shirt, cargo pants, hair tied up. Her
posture was the same. Effortless. Like the crowd parted for her on instinct.

She was laughing at something someone said. Her teeth flashed. Her eyes
crinkled.

It didn't look like the same person I'd been chasing across a pitch an hour
ago.

It looked worse. It looked better. It looked dangerous.

Fern shoved my arm. "Hey. What are you staring at?"

I blinked, turned back to her, and lied like a professional.

"Nothing. I just hate fairy lights."

I tried to eat something. Half a fried fish ball. Cold. Rubbery. No flavor.

I chewed it like punishment.

Page 56 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Around me, conversations blurred together, Fern talking about someone's

ex, a couple of seniors reminiscing about a win from two years ago like it
was a national championship, someone arguing about whether that corner
kick had been offsides.

I couldn't follow any of it

Because every time I looked away, I felt her somewhere just outside my
line of sight.

Ink.

God, even the name felt dangerous. I didn't know it yet. Not officially. She
was still Number 9. Still a question.

I glanced back toward the table where she stood.

She was already looking at me.

Not a dramatic stare. Not flirty. Just a calm, level look. Eyes slightly
narrowed, head tilted like she was trying to place me in a dream she'd half-
forgotten.

It only lasted two seconds. Maybe three.

Then she looked away. Not abruptly. Just... naturally. Like I hadn't
registered.

Like she hadn't been thinking about me at all.

I took another drink. It didn't help.

Someone next to me dropped a spoon. I flinched like it was a gunshot.

"You okay?" Fern asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Fine."

"You look like you saw a ghost."

Page 57 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Worse," I muttered. "A ghost with perfect posture."

"Oi, Jazz! You're in!"

I didn't get a choice.

Our goalkeeper had cleared half a table to make space for an empty bottle
and a pack of playing cards. A few girls from both teams were already
seated cross-legged on plastic stools, half-drunk and fully committed to
chaos.

I was handed a shot of something clear and terrifying.

"This game doesn't even have rules," I said.

"It does," Fern sald. "You just don't respect them."

"I respect basic safety protocols."

She slapped a card down. "That's why we love you."

The circle whooped. I smiled on reflex, because that's what I do, perform
enough to stay included. But my eyes drifted again.

Ink was still by the far lable, talking quietly to a teammate. She held her
soda can like she was pretending it had alcohol in it. Her other hand
gestured in small movements, fingers smooth and efficient, like even her
conversations were clean,

She didn't sit.

Didn't lean.

Didn't loosen.

I watched her shoulders shift, just barely, like she was already preparing to
leave.

My heart dropped.

Page 58 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I took the shot, not because I wanted it, but because I needed something to
hold in my chest besides static.

"Hey," Fern nudged me. "Where'd you just go?"

"Nowhere," I said, too fast.

"You look like you're about to run."

"Not unless she does first."

"What?"

"Nothing."

My stomach twisted. I knew that feeling, when someone's about to leave

and take your last chance with them. And I hadn't said anything. Not yet.
Not really.

If she walked out of here without knowing who I was, without knowing that
I remembered her, I'd lose the one good shot I'd had in four years.

I stood up.

The circle booed.

"Bathroom," I said, "Relax."

I wasn't going to the bathroom.

I was heading toward the girl who'd haunted my sleep without ever
knowing my name.

She was on the move.

Not fast. Just... drifting, like smoke, heading toward the bins near the bar
counter, probably to ditch her can and leave quietly.

Page 59 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I cut across the edge of the plastic-chair perimeter, nodding to someone I

barely recognized, pretending I wasn't actively stalking a stranger like some
weird, cleated ghost of curiosity.

She passed just in front of me.

And I moved one step to the left.

Right into her path.

We nearly collided, not as dramatically as on the field, but close enough

that she stopped and looked up at me.

Closer now, I noticed she was a little taller than I remembered.

Or maybe I'd just shrunk under pressure.

"Hey," I said, smooth as broken concrete. "Sorry. Didn't see you."

Her gaze flicked over me, amused. "Again?"

I froze. "Wait... what?"

Her mouth curved. "You didn't see me. Again."

Right. The tackle.

I laughed, too loud, too quick. "Right. Okay. Cool. You're funny now."

She tossed the can in the bin beside us. Her eyes stayed on mine, calm and
unblinking. It was like being studied, but gently. Like I was interesting, but
not urgent.

Then I saw it.

A tattoo on her right inner forearm, partially visible below her rolled-up
sleeve.

Page 60 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

It was simple. Inked in clean, sharp lines. Looked like a small koi fish. Mid-
swim. No color, just black ink.

I stared at it a second too long. My brain caught up late.

"Nice ink," I said. Then winced. "That wasn't a joke. I mean it was, but I
didn't mean it."

Her brow lifted slightly. "I've heard worse."

"That can't be true."

Her mouth twitched again. Not quite a smile. But close. Something real.

Then someone behind her called her name, too faint to catch the full thing.

She turned slightly, just enough to see the group at the other table waving
her over.

"Duty calls," she said.

I nodded, instantly panicked she was leaving again.

"Wait... uh... what's your name?"

She paused.

"Inthira."

Then she walked away.

I stood there in the middle of the heat and the laughter and the broken
folding chairs like someone had just whispered a spell I wouldn't be able to
forget.

I didn't follow her.

Not because I didn't want to.

Page 61 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Because I couldn't move.

It was like every part of me had been pinned to the concrete by two
syllables.

In. Thi. Ra.

I turned back toward the party. The lights looked fuzzier than before. Like I
was looking through a fishbowl.

Fern was arm-wrestling someone with glitter on their cheeks. Someone else
was trying to use chopsticks to eat a banana. Everything around me was
loud, sweaty, and off-key.

I rejoined the circle without saying a word.

Someone passed me a cup. I drank it without asking what it was.

"You alright?" Fern leaned close. "You look like someone kicked your
puppy."

"I don't have a puppy."

"Still."

"I'm fine."

"Sure. Hey... wasn't that #9 from Chula?"

My throat tightened. "Yeah."

"She's intense,"

"That's one word for it."

"I think her name's Inthira or something. My senior said she's a Visetsakul."

That hit harder than the shot.

Page 62 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Visetsakul.

buildings. The kind of name you read in business columns or see engraved
on the front of new

The kind of family that doesn't play football for fun, they play because
they've already conquered fencing and piano and diplomacy.

Of course she was one of them. Of course she was untouchable.

I said nothing.

Fern kept talking about how good her footwork was, how she wanted to
poach her for next term's indoor league. I nodded like I was listening.

The cup in my hand felt warm. The sweat on my neck never dried.

I stayed another hour. Smiled when I had to. Laughed at things I didn't hear.

When I finally left, I told myself I wouldn't see her again.

Just a one-time thing.

One match. One collision. One name.

No reason to hold on to it.

Right?

.
💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 63 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌷07. Not Over It🌷

7:03 a.m.

Sunday, Bangkok

I hadn't slept.

Technically I'd closed my eyes. Maybe even drifted. But real sleep, the
heavy, full kind, didn't come anywhere near me.

My brain had been too loud. Too busy making a TikTok edit reel of Ink's
face with aggressive violins in the background.

The ceiling fan hummed gently overhead. The light outside my window was
watery and gray. I'd opened the curtain slightly just so I could glare at the
weather for being as moody as I was.

My phone buzzed once.

Not her.

Obviously not her.

I picked it up anyway.

Group chat from work. Memes. A blurry picture of a fried egg someone
ruined. No one useful.

I rolled onto my side and stared at the pillow like it owed me an apology.

Page 64 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Down the hall, I could hear Mimi snoring softly, which was impressive,
considering how aggressively she'd claimed not to snore.

She'd shown up at my condo last night after the party with a small duffel
bag and no explanation. Just, "I'm sleeping here. I'm emotionally exhausted
from witnessing your spiral."

Now she was occupying my spare room like a tiny, judgmental ghost.

I buried my face in the pillow and tried to scream into it without waking the
whole building.

Did Ink remember me?

Did she know?

Did she care?

She had looked right at me, not the kind of polite glance you give your
future fiancé's sister. That was recognition. I knew it was.

But then, nothing. Cold politeness. Car door. Click.

I still had the fainlest smell of her shampoo stuck in my brain. Jasmine and
some kind of white tea, maybe. Expensive but subtle.

I sat up, shoved my comforter off, and padded barefoot to the kitchen. If I
was going to obsess like a Victorian widow, I might as well have coffee.

The machine gurgled, hissed, and spat out a weak stream of caffeine-
flavored regret.

I leaned against the counter, hair sticking to my neck, t-shirt too big, socks
mismatched. The condo was still, a little messy, sunlit in patches, too quiet
except for the hum of the AC.

Behind me, the spare room door creaked open.

Page 65 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Mimi shuffled out like a sleepy criminal. She wore one of my old oversized
university tees and had clearly slept with a full face of skincare.

"Morning," she croaked.

"Barely," I said. "It's seven-thirty."

She moved toward the fridge, opened it, stared at the shelves for an
insulting amount of time.

"Do you have food or just feelings?"

"Neither."

She shut the door. "Your kitchen is emotionally unavailable."

"You're not even supposed to be here."

"I'm a guest."

"You broke in."

"I have a key."

"Which you stole."

"Semantics."

She grabbed a banana and perched on a bar stool like she paid rent.

I poured myself a cup, took a slow sip, and pretended not to be vibrating
inside.

Mimi tilted her head, watching me.

"What?"

She kept watching.

Page 66 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"What."

"You're being weird."

"I'm always weird."

"This is extra weird. You're quiet. And twitchy. And you didn't even roll
your eyes when Mom asked if Ink should call you 'sister' now."

"That's because I was having a stroke."

"Was it a stroke... or a crush relapse?"

I choked on my coffee.

Mimi grinned, unbothered. "It's her, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're..."

"She's the football girl."

"No."

"She is "

"Stop."

"You're literally blushing."

"I'm not blushing, I'm overheating."

"It's air-conditioned."

"You're air-conditioned."

Mimi bit into the banana, satisfied like a villain who'd planted the final
explosive.

"She's cute," she said. "Scary, but cute."

Page 67 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"She's engaged to our brother."

"Arranged," Mimi corrected. "Big difference. You think Tune even knows
her blood type?"

I blinked.

She wiggled her eyebrows. "Exactly."

I escaped to the couch.

Mimi followed, dragging a bag of seaweed chips she definitely didn't ask
permission to open. She flopped next to me like a bored cat, her legs up on
the coffee table and her judgment thick in the air.

I grabbed my phone. No missed calls. One unread message.

Voice note. From Nualchan Worapunyachai. My mother. CEO of all

opinions and emotions I'm not supposed to have.

I braced myself and pressed play.

"Did you sleep well? Yesterday was such a lovely evening, na? I really
think the engagement is a good match. Inthira is so polite and graceful. Her
posture is divine. You saw how she walked into the room? Like a real
Visetsakul. Mannered. Quiet. Not like your generation, always talking too
much, anyway! I told your father she reminds me of Auntie Nim when she
was young. He said she's even prettier. Don't tell Tune I said that. He's so
lucky, don't you think? I'm so proud. This is going to be a very good match
for our families. Okay ja, talk later. Don't forget to moisturize."

Beep

I stared at the phone like it had personally betrayed me.

Mimi had gone still beside me, chewing slower than necessary.

"I will set this phone on fire," I muttered.

Page 68 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Mimi pointed at it. "You love her so much it's making you hate your mom."

"I don't love her," I snapped. "I just...she's... God..."

"Say it."

"No."

"Say it-"

"She's hot."

"And?"

"Infuriating."

"And?"

"She used to play midfield."

Mimi snorted. "You're hopeless."

I slumped down on the couch until I could barely see over the armrest.
"She's engaged to Tune."

Mimi chewed thoughtfully. "Tune doesn't even care what toothpaste he

uses. You think he's got the emotional depth to handle someone like her?"

I didn't answer.

Because I wasn't sure who I was jealous of, him, or her.

I hid in the kitchen to escape Mimi's smug aura.

She didn't follow, thankfully, I assumed she was either asleep again or
composing a dramatic tweet I'd find out about three months too late.

I stood by the sink and stared at my phone. It stared back, rude and
unhelpful.

Page 69 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I opened a new message.

Jazz: You free for coffee later?

Then stared at it for a solid minute.

I erased it.

Typed again.

Jazz: Wanna grab coffee today?

Too chill.

Jazz: Coffee later?

Too vague.

Jazz: We need to talk.

Too terrifying.

Eventually, I went back to the first one and hit send before I could talk
myself out of it.

The three dots appeared right away.

Tune: Sure: Central Ladprao? 2pm?

Jazz: OK

I set the phone down, face-down like it was radioactive.

This was stupid.

What was I going to say?

Hey, remember the girl you're arranged to marry? Yeah, I saw her four years
ago and I still think about the way she tackled me and insulted my

Page 70 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

breathing. Can we trade?

I pressed my forehead against the cupboard.

Tune wasn't the problem. He'd asked Mom and Dad to find him a wife
because he was too lazy to flirt. He treated marriage the way other people
treated buying a vacuum. Useful. Necessary. Quiet.

If it weren't Ink, he probably wouldn't even remember her name.

But it was Ink.

Inthira Visetsakul.

Who walked like she knew she was being watched. Who said everything
with her eyes and almost nothing with her mouth. Who wore a black t-shirt
and a koi tattoo and ruined my appetite in both directions.

I poured another cup of coffee.

This time, I didn't bother pretending I'd sleep.

My room was quiet except for the faint drone of traffic and the cursed voice
of my own thoughts.

The coffee mug sat abandoned on the windowsill. Cold now. The only thing
warmer was my phone in my hand, screen dimmed and guilt-bright.

I opened Notes, Blank.

Typed:

Inthira Visetsakul

Looked at it.

The name looked expensive. Too many syllables. Soft consonants that felt
like they didn't want to be spoken unless your mouth knew how to
pronounce wealth.

Page 71 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I stared at it like it had teeth.

Then I deleted it.

Paused.

Typed it again.

Then added another line:

Match: Kasetsart vs. Chula March 9th, 2021

Delete.

Re-type:

Number 9

I let my thumb hover over the backspace again, but didn't press it. Instead, I
added one more word:

Unfinished.

Then I locked my phone and tossed it onto the bed, where it bounced twice
and landed crookedly like a petulant child,

From the hallway, Mimi called, "Are you journaling about her?"

"No," I yelled back.

She didn't answer.

I rolled onto my back, one arm flung over my eyes, the other still tingling.

I needed a reset.

I needed space,

I needed her to be someone else.

Page 72 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💚💚💚
sunyan

Page 73 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 08. The Tune Talk 💜

Central Ladprao was loud. Too bright. Every store blared a different kind of
happiness at full volume. Sales. Scented air. False promises in LED font.

I spotted him before he saw me, sitting in a café near the escalators, tucked
into one of those fake-comfy armchairs with his phone in one hand and a
bubble tea in the other.

He was wearing a button-down that didn't match his sneakers. A man of

contradictions. A man of no opinions.

I walked up slowly, wishing I had sunglasses or a disguise or maybe a plan.

He looked up just as I reached the table and grinned.

"Oi. You're early. That's suspicious."

"I'm two minutes late."

"Exactly. Suspicious."

I sat down, pulling my hoodie tighter.

"What's in that?" I asked, nodding at his drink.

He held it up proudly. "Brown sugar oolong with grass jelly and extra
boba."

"That's three textures too many."

"You're just scared of joy."

"You're twenty-nine."

Page 74 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"And hydrated."

I ordered a black coffee just to balance out the chaos he was sipping.

He watched me for a second, still smiling, not the smug kind. The quiet,
warm, nothing- bothers-him kind. The kind that made him infuriating to
fight with because he never reacted.

"So?" he said. "What's up?"

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You texted me. You hate malls. You're wearing your thinking face."

"I have a thinking face?"

"You look like you're buffering."

I stared into my coffee as it arrived. The heat fogged my glasses slightly. I

didn't speak. Tune didn't push. He just kept sipping his drink, looking like
someone who'd never once been emotionally compromised in public.

I envied that.

Or maybe I hated it. "So how's work?" Tune asked, like we were two
Linkedin bots on a blind date.

I gave him a shrug and sipped my coffee.

"Same. Heatstroke, elevators that want to kill me, old people asking if I'm
the receptionist."

"You are very polite."

"No, I'm very broke."

He smiled. "You're still at the same office, right?"

Page 75 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Yeah. I like it. The aircon works, and no one tries to talk to me during
lunch."

"Living the dream."

"You?"

"Still accounting. Still thrilling."

I raised an eyebrow. "You sound alive with passion."

"I'm alive with direct deposit."

We paused.

Behind us, a child screamed for reasons unknown. A tray hit the floor two
tables over.

Tune barely blinked. I chewed on the edge of my thumbnail until he

reached across and pulled my hand down gently.

"You're acting weird." I stared at him.

"I mean, you're always kind of weird. But this is... extra."

"I'm fine."

"Jazz."

"What?"

"You hate lying. You're bad at it. You always blink too fast and shift in your
seat like you need to pee."

"I do need to pee."

"No, you don't."

"Okay, well maybe you're just projecting."

Page 76 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"I'm too lazy to project."

He said it so casually I laughed before I could stop myself. Then I stopped

laughing just as fast.

Tune leaned forward a little, not aggressive, just... present. In that way he
rarely was unless something genuinely caught his attention.

"Is this about the engagement?" My spine tensed.

I looked down at the coffee. "A bit.” He waited. I didn't say more.

Tune nodded slowly, stirring the ice in his jelly-chaos drink like it held the
answers.

"Well," he said, "I guess you should know. The arrangement thing? It was
me."

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I told Mom and Dad to find me someone."

"You're serious."

"Dead."

"Why?"

He shrugged, "Dating's exhausting. Everyone lies on apps. Or worse, they

overshare. I don't want to decode someone's astrology trauma just to figure
out what they want for lunch."

"You skipped dating and jumped straight to marriage."

"I'm efficient."

"That's not efficient. That's psychotic."

Page 77 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

He grinned, unbothered. "I trust Mom's taste. She filters for social
background, education, low-drama families, decent credit scores. It's like...
outsourced compatibility."

"That is the most unromantic thing I've ever heard."

"Romance is optional. Stability's not."

I stared at him like he was a foreign species.

He kept going, like this was all completely reasonable.

"They gave me a shortlist. Ink was on it. I said fine. We met. She's nice.
Polite. Knows how to order wine without making it a personality. Stares a
lot."

"Yeah," I said under my breath. "She does that."

"Didn't think she'd say yes, honestly. She's got that... rich girl mystery thing.
But I guess our families are well matched."

"You barely know her."

"She barely knows me."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

He took another sip. "She kind of scares me, honestly."

I snorted.

He smiled.

Page 78 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"She's... hard to read," he added, looking away for the first time. "Like if
you say the wrong thing, she'll remember it for a year."

"She will," I said automatically. He looked at me. I looked down.

There was a long pause. Not awkward. Just... stretched out. Like the
moment before you jump off something high.

I stared at my coffee cup. The surface was smooth, undisturbed. Nothing

like the chaos storming around behind my face.

I wanted to say it,

Wanted to tell him I knew her. That four years ago, she knocked the breath
out of me, physically and emotionally, and now she was in our living room
in a yellow silk dress with our mother praising her posture.

I wanted to say I wasn't fine.

That I hadn't slept. That I'd Googled her full name at 1 a.m. like a lunatic.
But all that came out was:

"It's weird."

Tune raised an eyebrow. "The coffee?"

"The whole thing. You. Her, This engagement. It's weird." He stirred his
drink lazily.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Of course it's weird," he said. "We're Thai. The whole family's weird. This
is just another layer."

I stared at him. "Why are you so calm?"

Page 79 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Because I've made peace with not knowing what I'm doing."

"That's... darkly reassuring."

He shrugged. "Look, I know this isn't ideal. But it's not forever yet. I said
yes to meet her. Not marry her tomorrow."

"That's not what it sounded like at the party."

"Yeah, well, you know how Mom is. If she could fast-track grandkids by
spreadsheet, she would."

I exhaled, still chewing on nothing.

He leaned in a little. "You're really bothered."

"I'm... processing."

"Processing what, though?"

I hesitated. Then lied again, but not by much. "She doesn't feel like the right
person for you."

Tune leaned back. “Interesting."

"It's just a vibe."

"You're rarely wrong about vibes,"

He tilted his head, watching me for a beat too long. Then.

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

Page 80 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Help me figure it out."

"What?"

"You don't like her for me? Cool. I trust your instincts more than I trust my
own. So hang out with her. Talk to her. See what you find."

I nearly dropped my cup.

"I'm not... what….. why would I..."

"You're already spiraling. Might as well put it to good use."

He sipped his drink again like this was a casual Tuesday and not the
beginning of my emotional unraveling.

I stared at him. "You're a menace." He grinned, "Efficient."

We didn't hug goodbye.

We're not that kind of siblings. Never were.

Instead, he stood, tossed his empty cup into the bin, and slapped my
shoulder like I'd just done a good job fixing his printer.

"Let me know how she scores," he said. "Midfield report, vibes analysis,
whatever."

"Do you want me to write you a PowerPoint?"

"If it comes with graphs."

"Get out."

He grinned and wandered off toward the escalator, disappearing into the
weekend crowd like the world didn't weigh a thing.

Page 81 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I stayed behind, staring into the leflover ice in my coffee, trying to figure
out which part of this situation made the least sense. Me.

Ink.

Tune.

The way my chest tightened when he said spend more time with her.

The fact that he trusted me to do that like it wouldn't shatter me sideways. I

pulled out my phone, Opened Notes.

Inthira Visetsakul. Still there.

Still spelling trouble. I should've deleted it.

Instead, I hit return and typed:

Approach: pending

Then I locked the screen and slid the phone into my pocket.

Outside, the Bangkok heat smacked me in the face like an impatient aunt.
My legs moved on instinct.

No plan.

Just momentum.

Because l'd just been handed an opening. And that was the most dangerous
thing of all.

.
🌷🌷🌷
sunyan

Page 82 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 09. Almost Sisters 💜

My thumb hovered over the message for ten minutes.

The text said:

Hey! Want to grab coffee sometime this weekend? Just us. Sister bonding or
whatever.

The "or whatever" was supposed to make it casual. The "just us" completely
ruined that. I deleted it.

Typed again:

Want to meet for coffee? Just so we're not total strangers. Too cold.

I thought maybe we could talk? Since you're going to be family and all. Too
weird.

Hey.

Too vague.

Hi Inthira, would you..., No. Absolutely not.

Eventually I just went full coward and sent:

Coffee sometime?

Short. Distant. Emotionless. I felt like a diplomat trying not to trigger a war.
Read receipt popped up almost immediately.

Then nothing.

Page 83 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

No reply. Just that little "Seen" mark staring at me like a smirk.

I threw my phone on the bed and walked away like it had insulted my
ancestors. Three minutes later, it buzzed.

Ink: Sure. Where?

I stared at the message like it might catch fire.

Jazz: Anywhere near Siam okay?

Ink: There's a place on Soi 7, quiet. Sunday?

Jazz: Works.

Ink: 1pm.

That was it.

No emojis, No "looking forward to it!" No "can't wait to bond as future

sisters-in-law!"

Just clinical precision. I flopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling.

I was in trouble. And I'd scheduled it.

The café on Soi 7 was quiet. Tastefully minimalist. The kind of place where
the air smelled like lemongrass and self-restraint.

I got there ten minutes early, because being on time would've been
suspicious, and being late felt like a power move I couldn't pull off.

Page 84 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

It was one of those converted townhomes with soft jazz playing overhead
and curated plants in weirdly shaped pots. Every table was small, every
chair slightly uncomfortable in a design-forward way.

I picked the corner table by the window and tried to look like someone who
didn't regret every decision that led her here.

The menu was handwritten on recycled paper. I read it three times and still
couldn't tell if "Oolong Cloud" was a tea or a weather phenomenon.

I ordered an iced Americano, mostly because it was the only word I could
pronounce with confidence.

I checked my phone. 12:58 p.m.

I told myself I wasn't nervous. I was just... aware. Of time. And space. And
my heartbeat in the back of my teeth.

At exactly 1:00 p.m., the glass door opened. She stepped in.

Calm. Precise. Black sleeveless top, high-waisted trousers, silver watch.

Not overdressed, just immune to mess.

Her hair was pulled back in a loose knot. No makeup I could see, and still
she looked like an advert for cold, clean water.

The girl who tackled me four years ago now walked like she was in slow
motion, like time adjusted for her.

I forgot how to sit properly and bumped my knee against the table.

She saw me, dipped her chin slightly in a greeting, then walked over like
this was a business meeting, not a reunion charged with unresolved
everything.

"Hi," she said simply.

"Hey," I managed, somewhere between normal and absolutely not.

Page 85 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She sat across from me, folding her hands on the table.

"You're early."

"I'm paranoid."

Her mouth twitched. Possibly a smile. Possibly not.

We stared at each other for a second too long. Not uncomfortable. Just...
measured. Like we were both waiting for the other to blink first.

I cleared my throat and glanced at her glass.

"You didn't get anything?" I asked.

"Iced hojicha," she said, nodding toward the cup in front of her.

I blinked. I hadn't even noticed the waiter come by.

"When?"

"I ordered at the counter."

"Oh."

"Efficient," she added. A very tiny jab.

I sipped my Americano to buy time. Bitter. Burnt. Perfect.

"So..." I began, grasping for neutral ground. "How's tutoring?"

"Loud," she said. "Teenagers think sarcasm is a personality."

I grinned. "They're not wrong."

"You'd do well with them, then."

Was that flirting?

No, couldn't be. It was too dry. Too smooth.

Page 86 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I looked down at the table. The wood grain was distracting. Or maybe I just
needed it to be.

Ink sat with a posture that made you feel like you were the one slouching.
Her watch caught the light in small, deliberate flashes. Her expression was
unreadable, but not cold, just carefully chosen.

"You've been quiet since the party," she said.

"I've been... processing."

"Was it overwhelming?"

"You mean seeing my brother get promised to someone he's never dated?
Yeah. A little."

Ink raised an eyebrow. "So, you're against it?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you're not for it."

"I didn't say that either."

Her mouth twitched again. She sipped her hojicha like it didn't taste like
judgment.

There was a pause.

Then she asked, "Did you recognize me that night?"

The air between us shifted.

My stomach dropped, then twisted. I opened my mouth. Closed it.

She tilted her head slightly, waiting.

"You remembered?" I said.

Page 87 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Of course."

I tried to keep my face still.

"The match," she said, answering the question I hadn't voiced. "You played
left wing. You were late to the field. Tied your hair in a panic before the
whistle. Nearly knocked me over and didn't apologize."

"You kicked my shin."

"You fouled me first."

"You dived."

"You smiled."

I froze.

She said it casually, looking out the window now, like the memory wasn't
loaded with anything.

But it was.

I could feel it.

She remembered. All of it.

My pulse thudded in my ears, too loud for a café this quiet. I tried to smile.

"So, you do remember."

Ink didn't look at me when she said, "You left before the after party ended."

"You noticed?"

"I notice a lot of things."

That shut me up.

Page 88 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She turned her cup slowly between her palms.

"You wore a blue jersey. Number 17. You played angry."

"I played focused."

"You fouled three times in ten minutes."

"Still didn't lose by as much as we should've."

Ink gave the smallest of laughs, dry, quick, nearly hidden in her throat.

"You were interesting."

Were.

I took a sip of my coffee that tasted more like heat than flavor.

"Why didn't you say anything that night?"

"At the party?"

I nodded.

She looked at me, still calm. Still composed.

"Same reason you didn't."

Touché.

The silence stretched.

I leaned back slightly. "So... what are we doing here?"

Her head tilted. "You invited me."

"You said yes."

"I was curious."

Page 89 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I stared at her. "Curious about what?"

"You."

Just one word. Flat. Precise. But it lodged in my chest like a blade.

I blinked. "Why now?"

She looked out the window again. "Timing is strange."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have."

I didn't know what to say to that. So I said nothing.

For a moment, it felt like the city noise faded. Like the whole block
narrowed down to a square table and two cups we didn't really want to
finish.

Finally, Ink said, quieter now, "Do you think your brother would make me
happy?"

I choked on air.

"What?"

She turned her head slowly, gaze sharp and unreadable.

"He seems... kind. But simple."

"Simple's generous."

"Then you don't think so?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I'm still figuring him out."

Ink gave the tiniest nod. Then looked at me again.

Page 90 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"I think," she said, "if I were supposed to be happy, someone would've
asked me what I wanted."

I didn't breathe.

Because neither of us had said the thing. But now it was sitting between us.

Watching. Waiting.

We didn't speak after that. Not for lack of words, just none that could be
safely said in public.

The bill came.

She reached for it.

I reached faster.

"I invited you," I said.

"I accepted. That's two separate verbs."

"You'll get the next one."

Her eyes lifted. "So, there'll be a next one."

Too late. I'd already said it.

She didn't answer. Just let go of the bill.

Outside, the air was thick with late-afternoon heat, the kind that sticks to
your skin and makes you rethink every fabric choice you've ever made.

We walked slowly toward the sidewalk. She didn't offer a ride. I didn't ask.

Halfway to the curb, someone brushed past us too fast, a motorbike clipping
too close. Ink stepped slightly toward me.

I reached out without thinking. My fingers grazed her wrist.

Page 91 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Just for a second.

Warm skin, delicate bones, a flash of something under the surface—not

fear. Not surprise.

Recognition.

She didn't pull away. Not immediately. Not until I let go.

We stopped at the corner.

"I'll see you around," I said, voice lower than usual.

She looked at me. That unreadable expression again. Then she nodded.

"Yes."

No smile. No wave.

She just turned and walked off, leaving me with a heartbeat I didn't
remember giving permission to accelerate.

I stood there long after she disappeared around the corner.

Almost touched.

Almost told.

Almost something.

💜💜
sunyan

Page 92 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 10. Not Sisters 💜

Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025
Copy : Sun Yan

The click of the lock was the loudest sound in the condo.

I stood just inside the door, not even out of my shoes yet, keys dangling
from my fingers, like I'd forgotten what to do with them.

It was quiet.

Too quiet for the way my pulse was still sprinting.

I tossed my bag onto the counter without looking. My phone clattered

against the tile and slid a little. I didn't reach for it.

The fan overhead spun lazily. Dust clung to the blades like secrets. The air
smelled faintly of detergent and last night's pad krapow, comfort food I
never got around to eating.

I still hadn't moved.

My shoulder still felt warm. From when she stepped closer. From when I
touched her.

Not a grab. Not a brush. Just contact. But it was real.

Page 93 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

And she didn't pull away.

I finally kicked off my sneakers, left them half-sitting by the wall, and
walked barefoot across the floor like I didn't know how to live in my own
space anymore.

Sat down on the edge of the couch.

Leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped, like I was bracing for bad
news.

Nothing had happened.

Not really.

But everything felt shifted.

I looked toward the window, not really seeing it. My brain was still at that
café table, replaying every blink, every word.

"You smiled."

"I notice a lot of things."

"Do you think your brother would make me happy?"

I closed my eyes.

Still saw her.

Still felt that impossible moment, suspended between meaning and denial.

I exhaled slowly, pressing my palms into my thighs like it could ground me.
It didn't.

I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

Volume low. Some rerun about competitive baking. People screaming over
burnt meringue.

Page 94 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Normally my kind of chaos. Today?Nothing landed.

I stared at the screen for five full minutes before turning it off again.

Tried music. Got two seconds into a playlist before Ink's voice drowned it
out.

I pulled my phone from the counter.

Unlocked.

Paused.

Opened Notes.

Inthira Visetsakul.

Still there.

The entry I should've deleted after the party. After seeing her again. After
today.

Instead, I added a new line underneath:

"She remembered. Everything."

Then another.

"She asked if he could make her happy."

I stared at that line longer than I should've. My heart did a thing.

That sinking, fluttery, why-do-I-want-to-run-into-traffic kind of thing.

I deleted the second sentence.

Typed:

"She knew exactly what she was saying."

Page 95 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Deleted that too.

Typed:

"I want to see her again."

That one stayed.

I locked my phone and dropped it face-down onto the couch.

Then lay back, arm over my eyes, trying to pretend I wasn't still seeing her
mouth curl slightly when she said "You smiled."

I stared at the ceiling for a long time. The blades of the fan moved in slow,
lazy arcs.

They reminded me of her hands, how she turned her cup. How she folded
her fingers when she was waiting for me to say something I didn't.

I'd touched her wrist.

It hadn't meant anything.

Except it did.

My fingers still remembered the shape of her skin. The quiet weight of it.
The stillness.

It wasn't an accident.

Not the way it lingered.

Not the way she looked at me afterward, not shocked, not awkward, just...
aware.

I hadn't imagined that.

And if I hadn't imagined that, then maybe I hadn't imagined the rest.

Page 96 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her voice at the café. Low. Careful. Every word like it came with a
lockpick tucked behind it.

"If I were supposed to be happy, someone would've asked me what I

wanted."

I knew that line.

I'd said versions of it a hundred times in my head, but I'd never dared say it
out loud.

And she just had, like it was nothing. Or maybe everything.

I sat up.

The room spun for half a second, like my body wasn't quite aligned with my
thoughts anymore.

I had crossed a line. Not physically.

Not out loud.

But emotionally? Mentally?

I'd taken one step in a direction I couldn't undo.

And the worst part?

I didn't want to go back.

The light outside faded to that late Bangkok grey, too dim to feel like
afternoon, too early to call evening.

My phone sat on the armrest next to me. Face up. Screen off.

No pings.

No dots.

No new messages.

Page 97 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I wasn't surprised. Ink didn't seem like the type to follow up. To double text.
To say what she didn't need to.

She had this way of leaving space, on purpose. Like she knew you'd fill the
silence yourself.

I picked up my phone anyway.

Checked Line.

Nothing.

Checked Instagram.

She hadn't posted in days.

I tapped her name just to bring up the chat thread.

Two lines.

Jazz: Coffee sometime?

Ink: Sure. Where?

That was it.

You'd never guess what had passed between us.

No hints. No subtext. Just... neutral language. Flat pixels. Like nothing had
happened.

Except it had.

I leaned back against the couch and let my head fall against the cushion.

I wanted her to message me.

Not to confess anything.

Page 98 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Not to say sorry.

Just... to make it real.

To prove I hadn't made it up.

Because it would be easier if I had.

It would be easier if I could pretend the air between us was polite and
empty, not heavy and charged like storm glass.

But I couldn't pretend anymore.

I didn't want to.

And that was dangerous.

I opened my phone again.

Not to check for messages this time. Just to scroll.

Pretend it was casual.

That I wasn't looking for something.

Someone.

I ended up in my contacts.

Thumb hovering over names I hadn't touched in months.

Then I saw her.

Fern - Chaos Wingback.

Of course she hadn't changed it back. Even after all these years.

I stared at her name.

Page 99 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

We hadn't talked in weeks. Maybe months. Just the occasional meme, the
lazy thumbs-up reaction to someone's IG story.

But she was still there.

And she was safe.

I wasn't going to confess anything.

Just...

"Hey. Do you remember Number 9?"

I stared at the message for a full minute.

Then hit send.

I tossed my phone onto the bed before it could respond.

Too late.

I was in.

💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 100 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 11. Number Nine 💜

I spotted her before she saw me, already seated, flip-flops kicked off under
the table, phone in one hand, straw in her mouth.

Fern, unchanged since university.

Hair still bleached at the ends and slightly uneven from her latest
experiment. Nails chipped. Expression smug by default.

I slid into the plastic chair across from her. She looked up.

"You're late."

"You're always early."

"Early is sexy. Late is insecure."

"You're wearing a Leo Messi t-shirt with soup stains."

She beamed, "Vintage!"

The food court hadn't changed either. Still had those too-bright lights and a
permanent smell of wok oil and iced coffee.

The kind of place where you didn't bring dates but you did bring the people
who'd seen you cry over penalty kicks and still agreed to share pork satay
with you.

Fern pushed a drink toward me. "Thai milk tea. No sugar. I remembered."

I blinked. "You've never remembered before."

Page 101 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"I'm evolving."

I sipped. "You're suspicious."

She grinned. "And yet you came."

She wasn't wrong.

We ordered. The usual: pad see ew for her, fried basil chicken for me. Fern
immediately launched into a rant about her boss confusing salary reviews
with personality contests.

"I don't need him to like me," she said, poking her noodles, "I just need him
to stop calling me 'kiddo'. I'm twenty-eight. I pay taxes. I own a
microwave."

"Truly a grown woman."

"With two dead houseplants."

We talked work, exes, shared hatred of Bangkok traffic. It was normal.

Almost painfully so.

I kept waiting for the shift. Fern, of course, made it for me.

"So," she said, halfway through her tea, "Number 9?"

I stabbed at my rice like it had betrayed me.

"Do you remember her?" I asked, already regretting it.

Fern's straw froze halfway to her mouth. She looked at me like I'd just
asked if she remembered oxygen.

"Do I... Jazz. You drooled."

"I did not drool."

"I'm not being metaphorical."

Page 102 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"I literally..."

"You missed a tackle because you were staring at her."

"I was not."

"She had that stupid braid down her back and a small tattoo on her arm, and
you practically ran into a linesman trying to get a better look."

"That was strategic repositioning."

"That was thirst with cleats on."

I covered my face with one hand.

Fern leaned across the table, voice dropping like we were trading black-
market secrets.

"You remember her full name?"

I didn't answer.

She grinned. "You do."

"I just... she played well. You remember who played well, that's all."

"Oh my god," Fern said, pulling her phone out. "You Googled her, didn't
you? After the match?"

"I didn't have to. She was at the after party, remember?"

Fern blinked. "Wait. Wait. That's right. She came for, like, ten minutes."

"Exactly."

"You didn't talk to her."

"No."

Page 103 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"She talked to you?"

"No."

"You spent the whole night staring into your beer like it held moral clarity."

"And you spent it trying to hook up with someone's cousin."

Fern shrugged, "Different priorities."

I exhaled, pretending to laugh, like this was still light. But I could feel it
shifting. The past wasn't the past anymore.

And Fern was about to ask the real question.

Fern leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, grinning like she'd just been
handed permission to ruin my whole life.

"Okay," she said, "do you want to hear the honest, full-body cringe truth?"

"No."

"You were useless that match."

"I was not..."

"You were emotionally compromised in the last twenty-two minutes. Coach

should've benched you off before fulltime."

"She was fast."

"She was hot."

"She was aggressive."

"You liked it."

I glared at her.

Page 104 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She ignored me. "You fouled her once, tripped her near midfield,
remember?"

"She fouled me first."

"Right, and then she stood up, gave you that look, you know the one— and
you just… froze. Like Windows 95 loading a YouTube ad."

I tried to sink into the plastic chair.

Fern was unrelenting. "And then, when you got benched, you spent the next
thirty minutes pretending not to watch her. You were so obvious Ice literally
passed you her water bottle just to distract you."

"That's not how I remember it."

Fern laughed. "Because your memory is soaked in repressed gay panic."

"I wasn't panicking."

"You were sparkling with panic."

"Can we not do this in a food court?"

Fern stabbed a piece of broccoli, still grinning.

"Look, I get it. Number 9 was intense. Sexy. Inexplicably good at slide
tackles."

I exhaled. "She had a tattoo. On her forearm."

Fern blinked.

Then leaned forward slowly. "You do remember."

"I remember details."

"Yeah, like someone who was trying very hard not to forget."

Page 105 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I didn't reply.

Fern raised an eyebrow. "So why bring her up now?"

I stared into my nearly-empty cup. Condensation dripped onto the table. I

wiped it away like it mattered.

Fern was still watching me, eyes sharp under the mess of her hair, grin
fading now, like she sensed I wasn't just reminiscing for fun.

I cleared my throat. "I saw her again."

Silence.

"What?" Fern said, way too loud. People two tables over turned.

"Shhh!"

She leaned in, voice dropping to stage-whisper levels.

"When? Where? How alive were you afterward?"

I winced. "At my house."

She blinked.

"Your house?"

"Family event," I said quickly. "She's... she's kind of involved with us now."

"Define involved."

I hesitated.

Fern narrowed her eyes. "Jazz."

"She's..." I dragged out the word like I could soften it. "...she's engaged."

Fern froze.

Page 106 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Okay. Oof. Wow."

"Yeah."

"To you?"

"No."

"Oh thank god."

"To Tune, my brother."

Beat.

Then Fern burst into laughter that earned another look from a passing
server.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "This is so cursed. So you. Of course you fall for
a girl once during university and then she shows up years later as your
almost sister-in-law."

"It wasn't a fall."

"Babe, it was a sports injury."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

I exhaled hard through my nose. "It was just coffee."

"You touched her?"

I blinked. "How did you...?"

"You definitely touched her."

"I brushed her wrist."

Page 107 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Fern slapped the table. "You're so screwed."

Fern leaned back in her chair again, grinning— but this time it didn't reach
her eyes.

I poked at the last of my rice, hoping she'd let the silence stay.

She didn't.

"Okay," she said finally, voice softer. "You like her."

"No, I..."

"Don't lie to me."

I looked up.

She wasn't smiling anymore.

She didn't look mad. Just... awake. Like she'd seen something click.

"You've liked her since uni," she said. "You just buried it under losing 3–1
and pretending she didn't exist."

"That was years ago."

"Doesn't matter."

"She's with my brother."

"That doesn't matter either, and you know it."

My throat went dry.

Fern leaned her elbows on the table, her eyes too clear.

"Whatever this is, whatever it was back then... it didn't go away. You didn't
forget her. And from the way you're acting? I'm guessing she didn't forget
you either."

Page 108 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I said nothing.

Because what was there to say?

She was right.

All of it.

Fern didn't push. She just reached across the table and took one of my pork
skewers like this was still casual.

"Whatever happens next," she said, chewing, "just don't pretend you're still
at zero. You're way past zero."

I stared at her.

At my plate.

At the empty spot across the table where someone else's elbow could've
been.

And all I could think was:

She's right.

I'm not at zero.

I never was.

💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 109 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜12. The One Who Shows Up💜

The elevator doors hissed shut in front of me.

I tapped the inspection panel closed, thumbed two screws into place, and
stepped back to listen. No rattle. No drag. No weird hiccup halfway
between floors.

It was a smooth ride now, good enough for a mid-range office building near
Asoke that liked to pretend it was fancier than it was.

The kind of place where everything looked polished until you opened a
panel and found duct tape holding things together.

Like people, I guess.

I wiped a line of sweat from my temple with the back of my glove and
leaned against the elevator wall. My jumpsuit was sticking to the small of
my back. The afternoon humidity was unforgiving today, heavy and wet
like the air had opinions.

I liked the quiet after a fix.

It was the only time my brain slowed down. The world got small.
Manageable. Wires. Motors. Brakes. Nothing vague or loaded or confusing.
Just things that broke, and things you fixed.

My phone buzzed in my side pocket.

I almost ignored it. I was still on the clock. Then I saw the name.

Inthira Visetsakul.

Page 110 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Two full seconds passed before I unlocked the screen.

"Are you busy?"

No punctuation. No emoji. No context. Just that.

My thumb hovered above the reply bar.

Am I busy?

Yes. Emotionally. Existentially.

Also: no, technically.

I typed:
Just finishing a job. What's up?

The three dots appeared immediately.

I froze.

Then her reply came through:

"I'm nearby. Can I see you?"

.
.

The street was noisy.

Not rush-hour insane, but loud enough to feel alive: cars idling, someone
frying fishballs on a cart nearby, motorbikes threading impossible gaps
between lanes.

I stepped out of the building and scanned the sidewalk.

I didn't have to look far.

She was there.

Page 111 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Just across the street, under a small green café awning that looked like it
belonged to another city entirely, shaded, clean, pretending to be Paris.

Ink leaned lightly against the wall, sunglasses pushed up onto her head,
holding an iced matcha in one hand. She wasn't looking at me, not exactly,
just toward the traffic.

Casual. Collected.

Like she always looked right at home in places that didn't belong to her.

I stepped down from the curb and crossed.

Her gaze flicked to mine the second I got close.

"Hey," she said, voice low.

I stopped in front of her. "You were just in the area?"

Ink's mouth curved—not quite a smile. More like the idea of one.

"There's a client nearby," she said. "Private tutoring."

"You always dress like that for work?"

She looked down at her outfit, crisp beige blouse, loose slacks, clean white
sneakers.

Not dressed-up. Not dressed-down. Just... precise.

"I had time to change."

I swallowed a breath and wiped my palms discreetly on my jumpsuit. I was

still in full work mode, tools in my pocket, sleeves rolled, hair frizzed from
heat.

"You want to sit?" she asked, tipping her head toward the café door.

"Sure," I said.

Page 112 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Even though I absolutely shouldn’t.

Inside, the café was small. Five tables. No music. Just the hum of the fridge
and two soft-spoken uni students arguing about a group project. Ink slid
into a chair by the window.

I sat across from her, still too aware of how I looked—dusty knees,
forehead sheen, tiny smudge of oil on my sleeve.

Great.

She took a sip of her drink. Her eyes didn't leave mine.

"You look different when you work," she said.

I blinked. "Different how?"

"Real."

I sat back a little. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Her voice was soft, unreadable. "Like you're not hiding behind anything."

I didn't know what to do with that.

So I said the one thing that popped out before I could filter it.

"Does Tune know you're here?"

Ink didn't flinch. "No."

Then, after a beat:

"No one knows I'm here."

I stared at her for a second too long.

Outside, the traffic light changed. Somewhere behind us, a spoon clinked
against ceramic.

Page 113 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I didn't move.

"You just... dropped by?" I said, cautiously.

Ink shrugged one shoulder, that controlled, graceful kind of shrug that said:
I do things because I want to.

"I was thinking about our last conversation," she said, calmly.

"Oh." My voice came out smaller than I meant it to.

She sipped her drink again. "I remembered something."

A tiny alarm bell went off in my chest.

"What did you remember?"

Her eyes locked on mine.

"The after party. Four years ago."

My breath caught.

Ink didn't press. She just waited, like she was handing me the space, and
whatever I did with it would tell her everything she needed to know.

"I didn't think you stayed long," I said, unsure if I should sound surprised or
not.

"I didn't."

"But you remember it?"

"Do you?"

I paused.

"Yeah," I said quietly.

Page 114 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

There was a silence then. Not uncomfortable, just sharp-edged. Like

something was being measured between us.

Her voice lowered.

"You saw me that night."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I admitted.

"I saw you too," she said. "I remember saying you didn't see me, again."

"You didn't say much."

"You didn't either."

I sat back, heart hammering too close to my throat.

"This doesn't feel friendly," I said, before I could stop myself.

Ink tilted her head slightly. "Does it need to be?"

I looked away.

A long silence.

Then I said, without meeting her eyes, "You're engaged to my brother."

"I know."

"You don't even know him."

"I know."

Her tone didn't change.

Not soft. Not hard. Just... honest.

"You said no one knows you're here," I said again, slower this time.

Page 115 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She nodded once.

"Why not?"

Ink set her cup down.

"Because if I told anyone," she said, "it wouldn't be about me anymore."

The ice in my glass had nearly melted. I hadn't even touched the drink, just
kept circling my finger over the condensation like it could explain
something I didn't want to say out loud.

Ink watched me. Not in a rude way. Not even intense. Just... still. Like she
was waiting for the moment I'd stop pretending this was casual.

I cleared my throat. "So you remembered the after party."

She nodded once. "You were wearing a black hoodie. Big one. The sleeves
went past your hands."

"That's... specific."

"I remember things that matter."

My stomach flipped.

She continued, slow and deliberate.

"You stood by the exit. Drinking Coke and beer. Talking to no one."

"I wasn't there long."

"I know."

I looked at her.

Ink's gaze didn't drop.

"You left after I went back to my friends, after I looked at you," she said.

Page 116 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

It wasn't dramatic.

Just... the truth.

I sat back like the air got thinner.

"You remember that?" I asked, voice quieter now.

She smiled, faintly. "You looked surprised. Like I'd caught you doing
something wrong."

I didn't speak.

Because I had felt that.

Exactly that.

Even then.

"And now?" she asked.

"Now what?"

She shrugged. "Are you still surprised?"

"By you?"

"By this."

My throat felt dry. "I don't know what this is."

She didn’t respond right away.

Just sipped her drink.

Then:
"Neither do I. But I keep thinking about it."

There it was.

Page 117 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Finally, something that wasn't wrapped in manners or family roles or social

convenience. Something real.

It hit me harder than I expected.

I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again.

"So... why did you come today?"

Ink looked me dead in the eye.

And this time, there was no delay.

"No reason," she said.

But her voice told me something else.

And the silence after?

That confirmed everything.

We didn't say much after that.

We didn't need to.

The conversation had already moved past words.

Ink stood first.

I followed.

Outside, Bangkok was dipped in early-evening gold, the sky not quite dark,
the streets still restless, but the heat fading. That strange in-between hour
where the city hadn't decided whether to sleep or shine.

We stepped into it together.

The sidewalk was narrow.

Our arms didn't touch, but the space between us felt tighter than before.

Page 118 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Like something had closed, unspoken and invisible.

I didn't ask where she was headed.

She didn't offer it.

We just walked, slow, in no particular direction.

She glanced once at a shop window, her reflection catching the light, and
then back at me.

"You're quieter today," she said.

"I'm always quiet."

"Not like this."

I didn't answer.

Not because I had nothing to say, just too many ways to say it wrong.

We reached the corner near the BTS stairs, where the street split and so
would we.

Ink stopped.

She didn't smile.

She didn't frown either.

She just looked at me like she was waiting for me to understand something
she wasn't going to explain.

I shifted my weight. "So... do I see you again?"

A beat passed.

Then another.

Then she said, "Maybe."

Page 119 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her voice was light, but her eyes weren't.

She stepped back, slow, then turned away.

And just before she disappeared into the pedestrian crowd, she looked over
her shoulder.

Just a glance.

No smile.

No wave.

Just that look, brief, exact, heavy as hell.

And then she was gone.

But the heat stayed.

Not the weather.

Not the walk.

Just her.

Just that look.

Just the knowing.

.
💜💜💜
sun

Page 120 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜13. Between the Chants💜

The temple grounds were quiet in that soft, sacred way only early momings
could hold. Even in Bangkok, even near the river, the sounds felt hushed,
like they'd been asked politely to wait until the chanting was over.

I stepped out of the car first, smoothing the hem of my cream-colored skirt
and adjusting the buttons on my pale blouse.

White or light tones only, something my mother still reminded me of even

though l'd been dressing myself for twenty years.

Mimi yawned behind me, her loose linen pants dragging slightly at the
ankle.

"Do we get iced coffee after this?" she muttered.

"You're the one who agreed to wake up at six for temple."

"I didn't agree. I was told."

I raised an eyebrow. "By whom?"

"Your mother," she said, in that perfectly practiced deadpan. "Who

reminded me I should be setting a good example for my future sister-in-
law."

I didn't respond to that.

Didn't have to. Mimi kept walking.

Wat Yannawa wasn't one of the flashy temples. No tourists with selfie
sticks, no gold-covered overload.

Page 121 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Just old brick paths, red-tiled rooftops, a boat-shaped viharn, and lines of
orange-robed monks moving silently from building to building like part of
the architecture.

Simple. Sacred.

I inhaled slowly and let the stillness settle over my shoulders like silk.

Inside the hall, our parents were already seated on the floor, speaking softly
with the abbot. A white thread had been tied around the altar and down
along the seated mats, part of the blessing ceremony.

I bowed low as I entered. Mimi followed, more out of reflex than piety, and
we knelt on the mat beside each other.

I felt the quiet start to work its way into my chest.

Then the door behind us opened again.

And I heard his voice.

"Morning, Khun Mae."

Tune.

Which meant...

I turned slightly. Just slightly.

And there she was.

Ink walked in beside him. Hair tied back in a clean low bun. White blouse.
Pale blue skirt just past the knee. No jewelry, no makeup, no noise. She
looked like she belonged there.

Except for how much she didn't.

I felt my breath catch for half a second too long.

Page 122 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She gave my mother a polite wai, then knelt beside Tune a few cushions
down. I told myself not to look again.

Not to check if she'd seen me.

I looked anyway.

And she had.

Her eyes flicked toward mine, calm, unreadable, deliberate, and then
dropped away. Like nothing had happened. Like we were nothing more than
family-to-be.

I turned back to the front.

Pressed my palms together.

And pretended I didn't feel heat climbing the back of my neck like I was
about to pass out.

The monk's voice was deep, steady, almost melodic. The chant flowed over
us like warm water, sacred syllables curling through the temple hall,
bouncing off the high wooden beams and carved window panels. The kind
of sound that made your thoughts go quiet if you let it.

I couldn't.

My palms were pressed together at chest height, fingers just brushing. My

posture perfect. My eyes low, respectful. I was doing everything right.
Outside.

Inside? Wreckage.

The floor mats were arranged in clean rows, families seated together, heads
slightly bowed, shoes left respectfully at the door. My father sat with calm
shoulders. My mother looked serene. Mimi was playing with the end of the
thread tied around her wrist.

Page 123 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

And then there was me, staring at the carved feet of a Buddha statue,
pretending I wasn't counting the centimeters between where Ink was sitting
and where I was.

Three cushions.

Maybe four.

Not far enough.

She hadn't looked at me again. Not once.

But I could feel her.

I don't know how else to explain it, there was just this pull. A wrongness in
the air, the way magnets strain toward each other even when you try to hold
them apart.

I shifted slightly on the mat.

That tiny movement was enough to catch her attention.

I didn't see her turn.

But I felt it.

I looked up, just a flick of my gaze-

and there she was.

Ink's eyes were already on me. Not a stare. Not a warning. Just that quiet
kind of attention that said: I see you.

The corner of her mouth moved.

Not quite a smile.

Not even a twitch.

Just... something.

Page 124 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Then she turned back to the front. Like nothing had passed between us.

But my chest wouldn't stop tightening.

And the chant kept going.

So I stayed still.

Because that's what we were all here to do.

Be still.

Be good.

Be silent.

Even while every thought in my head was screaming.

The line moved slowly, in perfect silence. Each person stepped forward
with a small silver bowl held at chest level, jasmine flowers floating on top
of white rice, a few baht coins nestled like hidden wishes.

It was a simple gesture.

You walked up.

You knelt.

You bowed.

You passed your offering to the monk.

You received a blessing in return.

You walked away.

Every step familiar.

Every moment quiet.

I'd done this since I was old enough to sit without fidgeting.

Page 125 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

But now?

Now, every part of me felt too loud.

My fingers curled too tightly around the bowl's rim. My knees ached too
soon on the woven mat. My breath came too shallow in my chest.

And she was behind me.

I could feel her.

Even through the line of family, Tune to my left, Mimi to my right, I knew
she was just a step back.

Waiting.

Watching.

When it was my turn, I moved forward on my knees.

Bowed low.

Offered the bowl with both hands.

The monk accepted it with a nod, then murmured a short blessing over the
contents, water sprinkled lightly from a bundle of peacock feathers. A soft
tap on the forehead. The thread around my wrist tightened, damp with
meaning.

I bowed again.

And as I turned to make space for the next person, I shifted slightly...

And my hand grazed someone else's.

Warm.

Light.

Page 126 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

But unmistakably real.

I didn't need to look to know it was her.

I did anyway.

Ink's fingers had just closed around her bowl. She hadn't flinched. Her eyes
were still lowered, face serene, posture perfect.

But her thumb lingered just a breath too long where our hands had touched.

Then she moved forward.

Like it hadn't happened.

Like I wasn't suddenly burning through my skin.

I sat back in line, hands folded.

My heart pounded.

Mimi leaned over a second later and whispered, "You okay?"

I blinked.

"Fine," I murmured.

She didn't look convinced. But she didn't push.

Still, her eyes flicked to Ink as she passed.

And I knew she'd seen something.

Ceremony done.

Blessings given.

Saffron robes retreating back toward the inner temple.

And still, I couldn't breathe right.

Page 127 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Outside, the sun had started to warm the flagstone paths. The monks had
offered us each a few last drops of holy water, flicked from silver bowls
onto our foreheads with lotus stems, and most of the family had drifted
toward the garden's edge, where a few shaded benches faced the river.

I stepped away quietly.

No one stopped me.

Not Mimi.

Not Tune.

Not my mother, who was busy offering a donation envelope to the young
monk assisting with cleanup.

I wandered toward the back path, past the prayer bell, past the fishpond,
into the smaller garden where hardly anyone went except people who liked
to linger.

The bodhi tree there wasn't huge. Its leaves were small and heart-shaped,
flickering gently in the soft afternoon wind.

I sat on a stone bench beneath it.

Pressed my palms together.

Not in prayer.

Just to keep them still.

I didn't know what I was waiting for. Or if I was even waiting at all.

But a minute later, I heard footsteps on the gravel.

Soft. Careful.

I didn't turn.

Page 128 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

But I already knew.

Ink stopped a few steps away.

Then sat, not beside me, not close enough to brush sleeves, just at the end
of the same bench, facing slightly away.

She crossed her ankles neatly.

Folded her hands in her lap.

Neither of us spoke.

Birdsong rose faintly in the branches above. Somewhere nearby, a monk

chanted a single line of verse to himself while sweeping the path.

I said, "You didn't have to come today."

Ink's voice came soft, not defensive. "I know."

"Your family wasn't here."

"I told them I'd go. So I went."

I turned slightly toward her.

"And Tune?"

"He texted. He said he'd meet me here."

She didn't elaborate.

She didn't have to.

I let the quiet return.

After a while, she asked, "Do you come here often?"

"Not really."

Page 129 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Shame. It suits you."

I didn't answer.

Because the way she said it?

Like she wasn't talking about the temple at all.

We sat like that for another few seconds, not facing, not speaking, but so
aware of each other I could feel it in my teeth.

Then Ink stood.

"I should go," she said.

I nodded. "Right."

She hesitated for a half-beat.

Then looked at me, and for once, there was nothing guarded in her
expression. Only this fragile, terrifying thing that looked a lot like honesty.

"Jazz," she said, quiet but unmistakable, "I felt it too."

And then she walked away.

The walkway back to the parking lot was lined with old stone lanterns and
the faint smell of incense clinging to jasmine vines.

I walked slow.

Not out of reverence.

I just didn't want to arrive yet.

Didn't want to answer questions.

Page 130 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Didn't want to be looked at.

Especially not by Mimi.

Of course she was the first one I saw.

She stood near the car, idly swiping through her phone, one arm resting
across her waist like she was bored, but the second she saw me, she
straightened.

Not obviously.

Just enough to let me know she'd been watching the whole time.

Our parents were still talking to the monk under the shade of the stupa.
Tune was nowhere to be seen, probably off making merit in his own
distracted way.

Mimi waited until I reached the last step.

"You good?" she asked lightly.

"Yeah," I said, without hesitation.

Too fast.

She didn't blink.

"You looked like you were about to pass out during the chanting."

I glanced at her.

"It was hot."

She nodded slowly.

Then her voice dipped just enough to land where it hurt:

"Was it the heat, or was it someone else?"

Page 131 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I froze.

No expression.

No reply.

She didn't smirk.

Didn't tease.

Just kept walking toward the car, unlocking it with a click.

"I'll be in the back," she said casually. "Unless you want to ride with your
almost-sister-in-law."

I watched her disappear into the passenger seat.

And I stood there a second longer than I should have.

Because I could still smell her perfume in the folds of my blouse.

And I wasn't ready to let it go yet.

💜💜💜
sun

Page 132 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜14. Soft Hands, Sharp Edges💜

It had been three days.

Three full days since the temple. And still, I heard her voice.

Not in a dream.

Not in a fantasy.

Just, casually, between emails, between trains, between spoonfuls of

breakfast. Like the syllables had lodged themselves under my ribs and were
refusing to be coughed up.

"Jazz... I felt it too."

That was it. That's all she said. And then she left.

No follow-up. No text. No late-night typo-filled messages trying to explain

it away.

Ink just disappeared,

And yet? She hadn't.

Because she was still here, under my skin, tucked into my shoulder blades,
vibrating under every thought I tried to silence with work. I'd replayed it too
many times to count.

Had she meant it?

Of course she meant it.

Page 133 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Had I imagined the way she said it? No.

But I also hadn't responded. Because I didn't know how.

I was standing in my condo kitchen, staring into a mug I hadn't touched,

when my phone buzzed.

Inthira Visetsakul.

Hey Jazz,
I was wondering... would you and Mimi like to do a spa day this weekend?
My treat. I thought it might be nice to spend some time together. No
pressure, of course!

I read it twice. Three times.

It was too polite. Too clean.

No pressure, Right.

The Jazz of five days ago, the one still convincing herself that Ink was her
future sister-in-law and only that, would've ignored it, made up an excuse,
backed away slowly like someone dodging a spirit medium.

But this Jazz?

This Jazz was standing barefoot in her own kitchen with wet hair and a
pounding heartbeat, thinking:

Dangerous,

And:

I want to go.

I didn't respond right away.

Page 134 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I paced. Finished half the coffee. Opened and closed the fridge like it had
answers.

Checked the message again. Still there.

I texted Mimi.
You free Saturday? Spa invite from Ink.

Her reply came in 0.2 seconds.

Um. Yes? Please tell me she's the kind of rich who gets real lemongrass
towels and not fake IKEA candles.

I sighed.

Then typed back to Ink.

Sounds good. Count us in.

I hit send.

The second the message left my screen, my stomach flipped.

Not from guilt. From wanting.

And that was the problem.

Ekkamai was too quiet for a Saturday.

Even the traffic felt muted, like the heat had worn everything down to slow
motion. We pulled into a narrow soi behind an organic juice place, where a
small brass sign peeked out between white climbing jasmine:

Breathe Spa & Wellness

Private Appointments Only.

Of course, Mimi was scrolling her phone as we stepped out of the car, eyes
half-closed behind her sunglasses.

Page 135 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"This place has a four-week waitlist, by the way," she said. "I looked it up.
Also, the influencer who dated the Thai rapper last year came here and
posted, like, eleven stories."

I glanced up at the soft white stucco building. "So, it's famous."

"It's serious," Mimi said. "I didn't even wear my nice sweatpants."

Inside, the cool air smelled like eucalyptus and something more expensive,
like old wood and lemon peels soaked in rainwater. A soft-toned playlist
hummed in the background. Everything was white and beige and light oak,
minimalist without being cold.

Ink was already there. Waiting.

She stood near the tea counter, hands clasped loosely in front of her, her
white linen top tucked effortlessly into high-waisted cream trousers.

Her hair was twisted up into a loose bun, a few pieces falling around her
temples in that accidentally perfect way no one could ever actually replicate
on purpose.

When she saw us, she smiled - just the polite, public version. Not too much.

"Hi," she said warmly, pressing her palms together in greeting. "I'm so glad
you came."

"Of course," Mimi said brightly, already stepping forward. "This place
smells better than my entire dorm."

I followed slower. Said nothing.

Ink turned her eyes on me for only a second longer than necessary. Long
enough to say something without saying anything.

The receptionist offered each of us chilled towels, tiny porcelain cups of

lemongrass tea, and an option for preferred massage pressure.

Mimi answered first. "Medium pressure, strong gossip."

Page 136 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The staff smiled.

Ink chose soft.

I chose whatever Ink didn't.

We were shown to a private suite, floor mats, warm wood slats, low light
filtering in through a frosted skylight.

Everything smelled clean. Earthy. Pure.

But all I felt was the tension in my shoulders growing by the minute.

Ink sat on the cushioned bench first.

Crossed her legs slowly.

Looked at me, just once, and said with perfect calm:

"You okay?"

I nodded, too fast. "Fine."

Her eyes lingered, like she didn't believe me.

Mimi tossed her bag onto the nearest counter. "I can already feel my
chakras preparing to be manipulated."

"Pretty sure that's not how chakras work," I said.

She grinned. "You'd be surprised what mine are capable of."

We all laughed, lightly, as the spa staff brought out robes.

But Ink didn't look away.

Not even when I finally did.

The room was dim.

Page 137 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Not dark, just intentional.

The light came in from a slit of frosted glass overhead, filtered through
something sheer and warm. Everything was hushed, padded, folded,
careful.

Three floor mats.

Three rolled towels.

Three women lying face down with nothing to do but feel.

The massage therapist's hands worked slowly across my shoulders.

Firm, but not bruising.

Familiar enough - I'd done this before. I knew the protocol. Breathe in.
Don't flinch. Try not to think about your to-do list.

Or the person lying an arm's length to your left.

Ink had chosen the center mat.

Of course she had.

Which meant I was beside her.

Face down, cheek to the cotton towel, staring at a carved wooden panel near
the base of-the wall while a stranger pressed heat and motion into the curve
of my spine.

I couldn't see her.

But I knew she was there.

I could feel the gentle shift of her mat when she exhaled. The slight shuffle
of her heel when the pressure moved to her lower back.

Page 138 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I knew the sound of her breath, which was insane but I did. I could tell
when she sighed deeper. I could feel the slow stillness of her when the
masseuse reached her neck.

And every time the therapist's hands moved from my shoulders to my ribs,
my brain short-circuited.

Because what if we touched?

What if I shifted my hand just a little too far out from under the towel?

What if hers did?

It wasn't going to happen. It couldn't.

But the idea of it, the potential of proximity, was driving me insane.

I focused on the carvings on the wall.

A lotus.

A swirl of waves.

Two fish chasing each other in a circle.

I breathed in.

Lemongrass. Rice milk. And something familiar. Her perfume.

Muted now, filtered through herbal oils and warm air, but still there.

Ink didn't speak.

Neither did I.

Mimi let out a soft groan from the far side of the room. "If I die like this,
please scatter my ashes here."

A muffled laugh from one of the therapists.

Page 139 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

But Ink?

Silent.

I counted my breaths.

I counted hers.

And when the therapist pressed a palm to my lower back to stretch the
muscles, I swear I felt Ink flinch on her mat.

Or maybe I imagined it.

Maybe we were both imagining things.

I turned my face slightly, toward her, toward the towel, toward the heat. I
didn't see her.

But I didn't have to.

My heart was already racing like I had.

The steam room smelled like lemongrass, ginger, and quiet danger.

We were wrapped in towels, seated on separate wooden benches across

from each other. The room was small, private, and already fogged with
mist. Beads of water gathered along the edge of the wall, dripping softly
into a tiled drain.

Mimi had left five minutes ago, her phone buzzing with some overly
dramatic ringtone.

She'd said, "I'll be right back. Don't talk about me while I'm gone," and
disappeared behind the sliding door like she didn't suspect a thing.

Now it was just us.

Page 140 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Ink sat with her knees drawn up, one arm resting on them. Her skin looked
even softer in the warm haze, flushed from the heat, glistening at the
collarbone. Her towel was knotted high on her chest. Elegant. Unshaken.

I tried not to look.

I tried so hard not to look.

My own towel was secure, but it felt like the least effective armor I'd ever
worn.

I crossed my arms over my knees. Lowered my gaze. Counted three

droplets on the wall.

"Comfortable?" she asked softly.

I nodded. "It's nice."

"You're tense."

I glanced up. "Maybe I'm just not used to being steamed alive."

Ink smiled faintly. "Or maybe you're avoiding something."

I didn't reply.

The steam hissed softly from the pipe behind her.

Then she asked, "Have you thought about the temple?"

I froze.

That moment, her words, that look. Every cell in my body remembered it.

"I've tried not to," I said, voice low.

"And has it worked?"

I looked at her, fully this time.

Page 141 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her face was unreadable, but her posture wasn't, too composed, like she
didn't trust herself to move.

"No," I admitted.

She exhaled slowly, the mist catching in her breath.

"Good," she said.

I blinked. "Good?"

"I didn't want to be the only one."

The room felt smaller.

Warmer.

Too full.

I leaned back against the wall, as far from her as I could get. My legs were
starting to sweat beneath the towel.

"This is a bad idea," I said, not sure if I meant the spa, the silence, or
everything.

"I know," she replied.

We sat in it.

The heat.

The honesty.

The impossibility of it.

Then her voice dropped, a tone I hadn't heard before.

"Jazz," she said, "If I asked you something that crossed a line, would you
tell me?"

Page 142 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

My heart hit the back of my throat.

"I'd try," I said.

She looked right at me.

And didn't say anything else.

The hallway back to the changing room felt colder.

Or maybe that was just my skin catching up with the outside world again.

Mimi was already inside, towel halfway off, chatting casually to one of the
spa attendants about their homemade ginger body scrub like she hadn't left
us alone in a sauna of emotional recklessness.

She waved a hand as we entered. "I told them we'll take the tea in the
lounge. I need to exfoliate my sins."

"Not sure they go that deep," I said, trying to make my voice work.

Mimi snorted.

I walked to my locker and pulled the robe on over my towel. My hands

were shaking just enough to make the knot difficult.

Ink didn't say anything.

She moved quietly to the sink. Turned on the tap. Washed her hands like she
was resetting a stage performance.

And then, for one second, our eyes met in the mirror.

No one else noticed.

Mimi was humming to herself, rummaging for her phone.

Page 143 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Ink's reflection looked steady.

Too steady.

Like someone trying not to breathe too loud.

I swallowed.

Turned away first.

She dried her hands and walked to her locker, her movements smooth and
casual, the kind that hide panic under poise.

"Thanks for coming today," she said quietly, just to me.

The kind of tone you'd use for a birthday card or a client follow-up. Except
it wasn't that.

We both knew it.

I nodded. Still couldn't speak.

"Let's do it again sometime," she added.

Polite. Clean. Dangerous.

Mimi chimed in from behind us. "Only if it ends with ice cream sundae.
That's my spa love language."

I forced a smile.

Ink closed her locker.

And I stood there, towel in one hand, robe knotted wrong, heart in my
mouth.

There'd been no touch.

No open confession.

Page 144 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Nothing visible.

But somehow, I still felt like I needed a cold shower and an hour of silence
to remember what rules were.

And the worst part?

I didn't regret going.

Not even a little.

.
💜💜💜

Page 145 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 15. Family Style 💜

The restaurant sat tucked behind a bronze gate in Silom, the kind with koi
ponds by the entrance and staff who greeted you in synchronized bows.

I had been here once before, a birthday thing, two years ago, some distant
uncle who insisted on shark fin soup and top-shelf whisky.

Tonight wasn't that different. Except now, I wasn't just a guest.

I was the sister of the groom-to-be. And the girl sitting across from her? She
was supposed to become family.

The private dining room had its own waiting area, thick carpet, decorative
altar in the corner. Inside, a round ten-seat table had already been set,
ceramic soup spoons, gold-rimmed plates, glass turntable in the center
stacked with roasted duck and steamed crab claws. White linen napkins
folded into birds.

I walked in just behind my parents and Mimi.

The room was already half full, Tune, smiling and oblivious in a pale blue
shirt, chatting with Ink's father, a tall man with deep-set eyes and a
deliberate way of speaking. Beside him sat Ink's mother, petite and graceful,
with perfect posture and a quiet gaze that saw everything.

Ink sat between them.

She wore a pale green dress that hit just below the knee, nothing fancy, just
neat, understated elegance with a slim bracelet and clear lip gloss. Her hair
was down this time, curled softly at the ends.

Page 146 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

When I entered, Ink stood, politely, like any well-mannered future

daughter-in-law would.

We exchanged a wai.

"Hi," Ink said, evenly.

"Hi," I echoed, nodding.

Her voice didn't crack. Small miracles.

Khun Une gestured toward the remaining seats. "Jazz, darling, go sit by
Mimi. There's space across from Ink."

Of course there was.

I gave the tiniest smile and slid into her seat. Ink sat again without
comment. Our knees didn't touch, but they could have, easily.

Mimi sat to my left, already perusing the menu with the confident hunger of
someone who'd skipped lunch on purpose. I didn't open mine.

I already felt full. Not from food. Just from everything else.

Across the table, Ink folded her hands neatly in her lap.

Didn't look up.

Didn't have to.

I already felt the air between them bending in unnatural ways. And dinner
hadn't even started yet.

The servers moved like dancers.

Dish after dish slid onto the lazy Susan with practiced grace, roasted duck
with plum sauce, stir-fried asparagus in XO, deep-fried river prawns with
tamarind glaze.

Page 147 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Each arrival met with murmurs of approval from the adults and open
delight from Mimi, who was already stacking her plate with shrimp.

I took a single scoop of rice.

Smiled. Nodded. Said all the expected polite things at the right moments.

I didn't look at Ink.

Not directly. But I felt her.

One chopstick clink and she was there again, not in my periphery, but in my
chest.

Settled like something that wouldn't digest.

Tune was talking about some property deal. My father nodded along. The
conversation shifted to business and golf courses. I faded back. I was good
at that.

Until a voice, delicate, deliberate, cut through the calm.

"Inthira's told me she's grown quite close with Jazz," said Ink's mother,
turning slightly toward Khun Une with a pleasant smile. "That's lovely to
see. It's important, isn't it? When the families get along so naturally."

I blinked.

Every neuron in my body snapped to attention.

Khun Une chuckled, pleased. "Yes, I told them they should spend more
time together, they're practically the same age."

"Less than a year apart," said Ink's mother. "That explains the chemistry."

The table laughed lightly.

I smiled too, the kind you wear, not the kind you feel.

Page 148 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Mimi elbowed me softly. "You and Ink did have a full spa day last week.
Bonding complete."

I cleared my throat. "She's easy to get along with."

Ink's eyes met mine then, finally. Not smiling.

Just watching.

There was something behind her gaze.

Not flirtation.

Not friendliness.

Something more dangerous.

Like she was daring me to say more.

But I didn't.

Because every word that wanted to come out would've set fire to the
tablecloth.

The server had just replaced the empty soup bowls when the tone of the
conversation shifted again.

Less business. More family.

Tune was laughing at something Ink's father said, a light story about
camping near Chiang Dao when he was a student. I smiled on cue, just
barely listening, mostly chewing her steamed fish too slowly and avoiding
Ink's line of sight.

That's when Khun Visetsakul turned toward me. She folded her hands
gracefully on the table, gave the softest, most approving smile, and asked:

"Jazz, dear... what do you think makes a good partner in a marriage?"

Page 149 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The table quieted just a littie. It wasn't dramatic. But it landed. Because the
question wasn't random. And it wasn't really about my opinion.

It was a test.

I sat up straighter before I even realized I had. Across from her, Ink didn't
move. But her gaze sharpened, not judgmental, just... curious.

Waiting. Khun Mae gave her daughter a glance like, go on, darling... the
kind that said this was a chance to be gracious.

To be seen.

I smiled politely. "I think... respect, first. And communication. Both sides
being clear and honest with each other."

Khun Visetsakul nodded slowly. "Mmm, That's true."

She didn't add anything. Which somehow made it worse. I continued, just to
fill the silence.

"It's probably also important not to assume what the other person wants. Or
expects. People have different ways of showing love. You have to ask. You
have to be willing to hear it."

That sounded right. Clean. Reasonable. Too reasonable.

I knew it the moment Ink looked away. Not rudely. Just... quietly. Like she
was done listening.

Khun Mae placed a hand over mine. "Spoken like someone who listens
well," she said warmly, then turned to Khun Visetsakul. "Jazz is
thoughtful... she always has been. Never one to speak out of turn."

The mood softened again.

But my stomach didn't. Because Ink still hadn't looked back. And I couldn't
stop wondering what kind of answer she'd wanted.

Page 150 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Longan in syrup. Taro balls in coconut cream. Mango with sticky rice, the
real kind, warm and tender, not the Instagram version. The table was full
again, this time with tiny porcelain bowls and silver dessert spoons.

The tension had faded into polite conversation about schools, air travel, and
whether Bangkok's rainy season was starting early this year.

I focused hard on her dessert. Ink had taken the mango. I had, too. Small
coincidence. Big problem.

Mimi leaned closer. "By the way, Khun Ink," she said casually, "thank you
again for the spa day. That steam room was life-changing. I felt like my
pores confessed to sins I didn't even commit."

Khun Mae chuckled, "I've been meaning to go myself. That place in

Ekkamai, right?"

"Yes," Ink said lightly. "It was lovely. I'm glad we could go together."

I froze mid-scoop. Together. Like we'd shared something simple. Like the
air hadn't thickened with every second we sat across from each other
wrapped in towels and unspoken truths.

Mimi continued, oblivious. "Jazz was so relaxed after. Like, suspiciously

relaxed. I was like... girl, did they steam out your bad attitude?"

A few people laughed. I smiled, tight, practiced.

"I think I just needed the break." I said.

Ink met my eyes then.

The look was brief. Soft. Almost sweet.

But something else was in it too, something that curled beneath her lashes
like heat held behind glass. I looked away.

Because if I didn't, I might've said something stupid.

Page 151 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Like : What do you remember from the steam room? Or worse: What did
you want to ask me?

I reached for my water glass instead. Sipped. Swallowed. Felt the cold slide
down my throat like an anchor.

Khun Mae insisted on paying, of course. But I volunteered to validate the

parking.

"I'll go grab the stamp," I said lightly, rising from my chair.

Mimi was already halfway to the exit, her dessert container in one hand and
Tune waving goodbye to the Visetsakuls with the other.

Khun Une was deep in parting pleasantries with Ink's mother. No one
questioned me stepping aside.

Except... Ink didn't leave.

She wasn't with her parents.

She wasn't at Tune's side. She was by the elevator, near the lobby, her small
clutch in hand and her eyes on the marble floor.

I slowed as she approached. Our reflections shimmered across the polished

tiles, close, identical, blurry. Ink looked up.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. For a moment, neither
of us moved. No one else was around.

The restaurant's staff were busy elsewhere. The sliding doors behind us
hummed with traffic from the street.

Ink stepped forward. Just a little. Her hand brushed my wrist. Barely. A
passing graze. But it landed like thunder.

And just as the elevator doors slid open, she turned her head slightly, not
enough to be seen on any security camera, just enough to catch my eye, and
said softly:

Page 152 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"You never answered my question."

The elevator closed. She was gone.

And I stood there, wrist burning, dessert forgotten, and a hundred answers
crashing into silence.

.
🌷🌷🌷
sun

Page 153 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 16. Echoes and Edges 💜

The elevator was gone. Just a faint bell.

A whisper of motion.

And I stood frozen in the lobby with the parking stub still in one hand and
my body tense in all the places no one could see.

"You never answered my question."

What question?

I turned the phrase over in my head, again and again, as if it might change
shape.

Replayed the steam room, the silence, the pause, the moment right before
Ink stood up.

"If I asked you something that crossed a line... would you tell me?"

Was that the question?

But that wasn't something you answered. Not really.

Or maybe...

Maybe it was the thing before that.

The temple. Under the bodhi tree.

"I felt it too."

Was the question hidden in that?

Page 154 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Or worse, had I missed something entirely?

My phone buzzed.

Mimi:
You still in there? I'm about to leave without you. Hope you have bus fare.

I blinked.

Stamped the parking slip without thinking.

I walked through the glass doors in a blur, past the valet, past the koi pond,
past the too-smooth voice thanking me for dining with them.

I didn't answer Mimi's text.

Didn't answer the world.

Because right now, I couldn't even answer myself.

The car smelled like jasmine air freshener and leftover mango sticky rice.

I slid into the passenger seat without a word.

Clicked my seatbelt.

Stared straight ahead.

Mimi glanced over. Raised an eyebrow.

"You look like you saw a ghost."

"I'm fine."

Mimi shifted into drive, pulled out of the lot.

Traffic was smooth for once, a luxury in Bangkok, even at night.

Page 155 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I leaned my head against the window. The cool glass soothed my forehead,
but not my brain.

What question? What did Ink mean?

She hadn't asked anything tonight.

Not really.

Just that one sentence before leaving.

A sentence dropped like a pin into silence, too quiet, too sharp.

Mimi adjusted the volume on the radio. Thai indie pop filled the space, soft
guitar and a voice that sounded like longing.

"I think Ink's mom likes you," Mimi said, casually. "She kept looking at you
like you were a particularly obedient honor student."

I let out a noncommittal hum.

Mimi glanced at me again.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You're acting weird."

"I'm tired."

"No, you're doing the thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing where you look like you're having a panic attack inside but you
smile like someone just offered you cake."

I didn't smile.

Mimi gave it a few seconds, then sighed.

Page 156 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Okay. I won't ask," she said. "But I'll just say one thing."

I turned my head, barely.

"If you're falling for someone," Mimi continued, voice unusually gentle,
"and it's complicated... you're allowed to be confused."

I didn't answer.

Didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Mimi didn't push.

Just tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, eyes on the road, like she
hadn't just thrown a truth dart with perfect aim.

I stared out at the rows of condos passing by. My reflection stared back,
distant, glassy, caught between what was real and what was imagined.

Because maybe that was the question.

Not something Ink had said out loud.
But something that had been floating between them since the temple.

Are you falling for me?

And worse: Will you admit it?

The condo was dark when I entered.

I didn't turn on the lights right away.

Liked the way the city lit my kitchen window, a soft, silvery wash from the
nearby hotel sign, blinking blue every few seconds like a pulse.

I slid off my heels.

Poured myself water.

Page 157 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Left the TV off.

Silence felt cleaner tonight.

I stood at the counter, barefoot, turning the cool glass in my hands, trying to
think of something, anything, else.

But everything led back to her.

The steam room.

The garden.

The brush of a wrist in a marble lobby.

"You never answered my question."

It shouldn't have mattered.

I had done everything right. I'd been polite. Professional. I hadn't crossed a
line.

But that line?

It felt thinner every time I saw her.

I tried to busy myself, started wiping down the kitchen counter even though
it was already clean. Put the kettle on for tea I didn't want. Rearranged the
spoons.

I glanced at the fridge. There was a sticky note from Mimi:

don't eat my pudding or I'll report you to Khun Mae.

I smiled faintly.

It faded too fast.

I sat on the edge of the couch and pulled my knees up, arms wrapped
around them.

Page 158 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

What was I doing?

Was I reading too much into everything?

Ink was engaged.

To Tune.

Officially.

Families involved.

Ceremonies on the horizon.

Futures shaped by people who didn't ask questions, they just announced
things in polite language and silk envelopes.

And yet...

That voice again. "If I asked you something that crossed a line, would you
tell me?"

Yes.

I would've.

If I knew what the question was.

But I didn't.

And that was the worst part.

Because deep down?

I was afraid the question had never been asked with words.

Only looks.

Only pauses.

Page 159 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Only moments that lasted just long enough to make it hurt.

I hadn't meant to open Instagram.

I'd just unlocked my phone to check the time, or that's what I told myself.

But before I could stop it, my thumb moved on instinct.

Scroll. Tap. Refresh.

I blinked at the feed.

A cat in a rice cooker.

A high school classmate getting engaged.

A vegan burger that looked like punishment.

Then Ink's name appeared. Not a new post, a tag.

@[Link] tagged in a story.

I tapped it without thinking.

It was Mimi's story. From the spa.

A Boomerang of their tea cups clinking, with Ink in the background, towel
around her shoulders, hair damp and loose.

I hadn't seen it before. Mimi must've uploaded it late.

But what caught me off guard wasn't the setting.

It was Ink's face.

She wasn't looking at the camera.

She was looking at me.

Not casually.

Not coincidentally.

Page 160 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her expression was quiet, unreadable, soft around the edges, like someone
listening to music no one else could hear.

I stared at it.

Replayed the loop.

Over and over, Ink looked at me.

Loop.

Loop.

Loop.

My thumb hovered over the screen.

I didn't save it.

Didn't screenshot.

I just watched it disappear into the algorithm.

A digital ghost.

Gone in twenty-four hours.

Except not gone at all.

Because now it was seared into me.

Another unanswered question.

Another near-confession.

Another look I wasn't supposed to see, but had.

The screen dimmed.

The apartment was quiet again.

Page 161 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I set my phone face down on the table, like that could somehow cancel out
what I'd seen.

But it was too late.

Because now I knew.

If Ink asked again, plainly, directly, deliberately, I wouldn't be able to lie.

Not anymore.

I'd tried.

Tried to explain away the way my pulse jumped when our eyes met.

Tried to brush off the brush of a hand.

Tried to tell myself it was just memory, nostalgia, curiosity.

But it wasn't.

It was now.

It was every moment since the engagement dinner.

Since the garden.

Since the steam.

I leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands threading into my hair.

The line had already been crossed.

Not with kisses.

Not with touch.

But with knowing.

And that was worse.

Page 162 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Because Ink knew.

She knew what she was doing.

She knew the tension.

She knew the weight.

She knew every word she left unsaid and how it hit anyway.

And if she asked again?

If she looked at me in the eye and said: Are you feeling what I'm feeling?

There wouldn't be an escape.

There would only be one answer.

Yes.

.
💜💜💜
sun

Page 163 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 17. Not Supposed to Be Here💜

The gate was open.

That should've been her first clue.

I pulled into the driveway behind Khun Mae's car, noting that the house was
too quiet for a weekend gathering. The porch light was on, the curtains
drawn back, but there was no scent of cooking, no familiar clatter from the
kitchen.

I got out slowly, keys swinging from my hand, half-expecting to hear

Mimi's voice shout something sarcastic through the window.

Nothing.

I rang the bell once, then used my copy of the key.

Inside, the house smelled like lemongrass cleaner and jasmine soap. Clean.
Still.

I kicked off my shoes at the front mat and called out, "Mae?"

No reply.

"Mimi?"

A faint sound upstairs, music maybe, but no one answered. I stepped into
the hallway and turned into the living room...

...and stopped.

Ink was there.

Page 164 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Sitting on the couch like she belonged there, legs crossed neatly, a small
glass of iced tea in her hand, condensation beading down the side.

She looked up the second I entered.

"Hi."

I blinked. "Hi... you're early?"

Ink tilted her head, a soft smile forming. "I could say the same to you."

I stepped inside slowly, trying to gather my voice into something normal.

"I thought everyone else was already here."

"They were." Ink gestured to the tea tray. "But your mom had to run out to
meet someone. Your dad's upstairs on a call. Mimi said she's having a
'crisis' with her laptop and doesn't want to socialize until it's fixed."

I exhaled. "So..."

Ink smiled again. "It's just us."

She said it like it wasn't a threat. Like it was simply the truth. Which it was.

I sat down, but not next to her. The far end of the couch. Too far to be rude.
Just far enough to breathe.

"I didn't know you were already close with Mae," Jazz said. "She calls me
Ink-jaa now," Ink said, sipping her tea. "I think I've been accepted."

I smiled faintly. "That's serious."

"She also told me I should teach you how to dress more femininely."

I groaned. "Oh god."

"I told her I liked your style."

I blinked. "You... what?"

Page 165 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Ink just shrugged.

No explanation. No follow-up.

My heart tripped.

The air felt warmer than it should've.

Outside, a motorbike passed.

Somewhere upstairs, Mimi cursed in frustration at her laptop.

Inside?

Just the two of us.

And a silence that felt too full.

I leaned back, trying to relax into the cushions, but the effort felt like lying.

Ink sipped her iced tea like she hadn't just dropped a casual compliment
about my clothes that was now replaying in my head on a six-second loop.

I glanced at her sideways.

"So, you've survived one-on-one time with Mae. That's impressive."

"She likes me."

"She likes everyone who listens more than they speak."

Ink gave a soft laugh. "Well, I listen."

I arched a brow. "Do you?"

Ink's eyes flicked over. "To you? Always."

Page 166 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

That one landed too cleanly.

I shifted my weight, suddenly hyper-aware of how far, or close, we actually

were on the couch. A few feet, maybe less. One stretch of the arm. A single,
brave decision.

I picked up a glass from the tray. My own tea was already sweating. The ice
had started to melt, the rim sticky with condensation. I took a long sip to
buy myself time.

Ink let the silence breathe before gently breaking it.

"This house is quieter than I thought it'd be."

"Only when Mimi's upstairs," I muttered.

"I like it."

I glanced over. "You like quiet?"

"I like..." Ink paused. "Places that let you think."

There was something about the way she said it—deliberate, soft, but too
clear to ignore.

I set my glass down too fast. It clinked against the coaster. I winced,
covered it with a dry laugh.

"Well, this house gives you time to think whether you want it or not."

Ink smiled, eyes steady. "And what are you thinking about right now?"

I opened my mouth. Paused.

Then deflected. "You're very direct today."

"I'm in a house full of strangers," Ink said lightly, "except for one person."

I felt her heart knock.

Page 167 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I tried to hold onto my composure, wrapped it tight like a coat too thin for
the weather.

"You shouldn't say things like that," I said softly.

"I haven't said anything wrong."

"You're engaged to my brother."

Ink's lips curved, almost sadly. "I didn't say I wasn't."

I looked away.

The living room was too still. The fan spun lazily above them. Somewhere
outside, the neighbor's dog barked once, then went quiet again.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

The answer was simple.

You.

But I didn't say it.

Because I wasn't brave enough. Yet.

The tea sat between us, forgotten. Sweating. Warm and useless now.
I wasn't sure how we got this far into the silence without one of us breaking
it.

And maybe that was the thing—neither of us wanted to break it. Not really.

We were listening for something else underneath.

The edge of a sentence.

The start of a truth.

Page 168 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I stared at my own fingers twisting the fabric of my shirt and made myself
say it.

"The other day…"

Ink tilted her head slightly. "Which day?"

"The dinner," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "At the restaurant. You
said I never answered your question."

She didn't react. Didn't blink. Didn't play dumb, either.

"I've been trying to figure out what you meant," I added.

Ink looked right at me. "I know."

That threw me off. "You know?"

She nodded once. "That's why I said it."

I narrowed my eyes. "So what, you just... dropped that on me to mess with
me?"

"No," she said, voice soft. "I wanted to know if you were still thinking
about me."

The words didn't hit hard.

They landed slowly.

Like snow.

Heavy and quiet and impossible to ignore.

My throat tightened.

I could've laughed. Should've. Changed the subject.

Brought up Tune.

Page 169 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Brought up the entire reason she was in my house in the first place.

But instead, I said... "What if I am?"

She didn't flinch. Didn't look surprised.

She just looked honest.

"Then I'd probably ask if you've been thinking about the temple too," she
said.

I didn't blink.

Because I had. Every night since.

That look. That silence. The way she said I felt it too like it had been
waiting inside her for years.

"I shouldn't have said that," she added. "I should've let it go."

"Then why didn't you?"

There was a long pause.

She didn't look away.

"Because you looked at me like you remembered," she said.

I did.

I still remembered.

The feeling of grass under my hand.

The breath I forgot to take.

The look in her eyes that told me she knew exactly who I was, even back
then.

I wanted to say all of that.

Page 170 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

But the lights above us flickered.

Once. Then again.

A low buzz, like the house had taken a breath and held it.

We both reached for our phones.

And our hands touched.

Not a graze. Not a polite mistake.

Contact.

Ink didn't pull back.

Neither did I.

Her fingers were warm.

That was the first thing I noticed.

Not soft, not trembling, just steady.

The kind of warmth that didn't ask for attention, but stayed with you long
after you pulled away.

Except neither of us had pulled away.

I looked down, then up.

She was already watching me.

There was no panic in her eyes.

Just a kind of quiet gravity, like she was giving me the choice.

Not reaching. Not retreating. Just waiting.

I could've moved. Should've.

Page 171 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

But my hand stayed there, covering hers like we'd both agreed without
saying a word.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," she said quietly.

Her voice was low. Real.

No trace of those careful tones she used around my mom, or Tune, or

anyone else who thought they knew who she was.

I swallowed. "You sure about that?"

Her lips parted.

Just slightly.

And that look—the one from the temple, from the steam room, from the
elevator—it was back.

Except now we weren't hiding behind moments.

We were the moment.

"I keep trying not to think about it," I said. "But it doesn't stop."

Her hand didn't move, but her thumb shifted just enough to brush the inside
of my palm.

My breath caught.

"It's not just you," she said.

I knew that already.

But hearing her say it made it worse.

Or better.

I couldn't tell.

Page 172 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"I don't know what to do with this," I whispered.

Neither of us did.

But we stayed there, hands touching, air too thick, silence too loud.

Until the front door opened.

"Hello? I'm home!"

Tune's voice rang out.

We jumped back like we'd been burned.

Ink straightened instantly, composure snapping into place like a trained

reflex.

Her hand went to her lap. Her eyes down. Her face blank.

I stood, too fast.

My heart still hammering.

Tune walked in a few seconds later, casual and smiling, keys in hand.

"Whoa, you two look serious. What'd I miss?"

"Nothing," Ink said smoothly, already rising. "We were just catching up."

I nodded, my voice caught in my throat. "Just... talking."

He laughed. "Glad you're getting along. Mom said she'll be back soon. I
brought snacks."

Ink turned away, toward the kitchen.

I watched her go.

My hand still felt warm where hers had been.

Page 173 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜💜💜
sun

Page 174 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 18. Break the Pattern 💜

Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025

The elevator was old, the kind with peeling laminate buttons and a fan that
sounded like it was coughing itself to death.

I was crouched in the service panel, tightening the wiring on the motor
controller, trying not to think about how fast I was unraveling.

"Hey," my coworker, Pong, called from the hallway. "You good? You've
been staring at that same circuit for ten minutes."

I blinked.

Realized I hadn't done anything in the last... five? Seven? I didn't know.

"Yeah," I said quickly. "Just... thinking."

"Thinking or zoning out?"

"Same thing."

Pong made a noise halfway between a laugh and a cough. "Whatever. Just
don't get shocked. I don't want to explain to your mother why her daughter's
fried like moo krob."

Page 175 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Charming.

I tightened the last screw, flipped the panel shut, and stood up.

I wasn't thinking clearly. Everything felt like it was happening one second
behind.

My hands were working, checking connections, pressing test buttons—but

the rest of me was stuck back in that living room, on that couch, in that
goddamn moment.

The way her voice dropped when she said, Because you looked at me like
you remembered.

The way her hand felt under mine.

Warm. Still. Certain.

The way neither of us moved until it was too late.

"You're doing it again," Pong muttered. "That face."

"What face?"

"The one that says, I'm thinking about a girl but pretending I'm not thinking
about a girl."

I gave him the deadest stare I could manage.

He held up both hands and backed off. "Okay, okay. None of my business."

Damn right.

But also... not wrong.

"Don't look now," Fern said, stirring her iced americano with the long straw,
"but you have the face of someone who's either in love, in debt, or in
trouble."

Page 176 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"I'm none of those things."

Fern didn't even blink. "That's exactly what someone in trouble would say."

I took a long sip of my matcha, mostly so I wouldn't have to respond.

The café was too bright.

The AC was too cold.

Fern was too perceptive, which I knew going in, and still came anyway.

That's on me.

She leaned back in the wooden chair, flipping her ponytail over one
shoulder like she had all the time in the world.

"How's work?"

"Hot," I said. "Mostly broken elevators. Pong thinks I'm distracted."

"Is he wrong?"

I gave her a look.

She smirked. "I'll take that as a no."

"I'm just tired."

"Sure."

She let the silence stretch just long enough to make me uncomfortable.

Then: "So. Who is she?"

My stomach dropped.

I tried to play dumb.

Failed spectacularly.

Page 177 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"What... why would you think..."

"Jazz." Her voice cut through gently. "Do you remember who you're talking
to?"

I stared down at the rim of my cup. A perfect green ring.

I couldn't even look up when I said it.

"Do you remember Number Nine?" I asked.

Fern raised an eyebrow. "From the match?"

I nodded. "From the afterparty. With the tattoo. The one I asked about."

She blinked once.

"Oh my god."

"It's her."

Fern put down her cup carefully. "Number Nine is... Ink?"

I nodded again, eyes still down.

"I thought she looked familiar," Fern muttered. "But you were so casual at
the dinner thing, I didn't even..." She sat back. "You're not just in trouble.
You're in danger."

"I didn't plan this."

"I know."

"She's just... everywhere."

Fern gave me a long, thoughtful look.

"Is it mutual?"

Page 178 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I didn't answer.

But I didn't have to.

She leaned in and said quietly, "You're shaking."

I hadn't noticed.

But my hand was trembling slightly around the cup.

So I put it down.

And didn't say anything else.

I didn't remember the drive. Not really.

A few red lights. A right turn I didn't mean to take. Some impatient
motorbike weaving past my side mirror.

Then I was here.

Outside her building.

I sat in the car for five full minutes.

The AC was still on.

My hand was on the steering wheel.

And my phone was sitting face-down on the passenger seat like it knew
better than to get involved.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

I had no plan. No excuse. No script to hide behind. But somehow I got out
anyway.

The elevator ride up was quiet. I pressed her floor with fingers that weren't
cold but felt like they should be.

Page 179 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her door was painted light gray.

I stared at it for three full breaths before I knocked.

One beat.

Two.

Then it opened.

Ink stood there barefoot in leggings and an oversized t-shirt, hair pulled into
a loose bun.

No makeup. No smile. Just... her.

She didn't look surprised.

She didn't say anything, either. She just stepped aside.

I walked in.

The door clicked shut behind me.

She didn't ask why I was there.

She didn't need to.

And neither did I.

We sat in silence for a moment on opposite ends of her gray sofa.

The same distance we had back in the house.

But this wasn't the house.

This was her space.

Her air.

Page 180 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I turned toward her. "That day at the spa," I said. "You were going to ask me
something."

Her eyes didn't waver. "Yes."

"But you didn't."

"No."

"Why not?"

She paused. Then looked down at her lap.

"I was afraid I'd ask you something you'd lie about."

That hit harder than I expected.

I swallowed. "Try me."

She looked back up. Straight through me.

"If I told you I thought about kissing you in that steam room... would you
say you didn't think about it too?"

I didn't blink.

Because she said it.

The question.

And I couldn't lie. Not anymore.

"I did think about it."

Her breath caught, or maybe that was mine.

And then I leaned in.

Slow.

Page 181 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Just enough to give her time to stop me.

She didn't.

Her eyes didn't close right away.

She looked at me the whole time I leaned in, like she was memorizing the
moment in case we both ran from it later.

I didn't know who moved first.

Maybe me. Maybe her.

But suddenly my hand was on her cheek, and her breath hitched, and then...

Our lips met.

Soft.

Not hesitant, but careful.

Measured.

Like we both wanted to feel everything.

She kissed me back immediately.

No gasp. No pause.

Just this quiet surrender, her mouth against mine, the press of her palm
sliding up my forearm, her fingers curling just enough to say: don't stop.

We weren't in a rush.

But we also couldn't slow down.

My other hand found her waist.

Page 182 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I felt her shift closer, the edge of her thigh brushing mine, her breath
catching again when I deepened the kiss, just a little, just enough to ruin
every lie we'd built between us.

This wasn't about tension anymore.

Or flirting.

Or memory.

This was real.

Here.

Now.

Ink pulled back first, barely.

Her forehead touched mine.

Her lips were still parted.

I could feel her pulse through her fingers where they gripped my wrist.

She didn't speak.

Neither did I.

The silence was louder than anything.

And I was scared.

Not of her.

Not of what we'd just done.

But of what we couldn't undo.

I didn't want to move.

Page 183 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her hand was still on my wrist, like she hadn't decided whether to let go
yet.

My mouth still tingled from her kiss.

My chest was too tight, too full, too awake.

But the longer we sat there, forehead to forehead, breath tangled, the more I
knew I had to stand up.

Because staying meant something.

And I wasn't ready for what that something cost.

I pulled back gently, slowly, like stepping off a ledge.

Ink didn't stop me.

But her eyes followed every motion, all the way until I stood, until I picked
up my phone from the coffee table, until I walked to the door without
speaking.

My hand hovered on the knob.

I looked back at her.

Still sitting.

Still quiet.

Still watching me like I'd taken something from her that she wasn't sure she
was allowed to want.

I opened the door.

And finally said, quietly, "I'll see you."

Not soon.

Page 184 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Not later.

Just that.

Because I didn't know when.

Or how.

Or who we were now.

But I would see her again.

Because there was no going back from this.

.
💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 185 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 19. Paper Cuts 💜

I didn't dream, but I still woke up tired.

The kind of tired that doesn't live in your body, it sits behind your ribs, low
and constant, like something humming under the floorboards.

My pillow smelled like jasmine conditioner and bad decisions.

I stared at the ceiling.

Replay after replay after replay.

Her hand.

Her mouth.

The sound she made when I kissed her like we'd both been waiting for it.

I didn't regret it.

But I also didn't know how to carry it.

I sat up, slowly, like that might help balance the weight in my chest.

I was halfway to brushing my teeth when my phone buzzed on the

nightstand.

Khun Mae.

I answered before it could ring twice.

"Jazz," she said, brisk and bright, "are you working today?"

Page 186 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"No," I said automatically.

"Good. I need your help."

There it was. That tone. The one that meant don't say no.

"Tune's gotten called away to the hotel. Something with a guest from Japan.
You know how he is, can't say no to work. But Ink has her dress fitting
booked for this afternoon at Drape & Drape, and I don't want her going
alone."

My throat closed around the words I didn't say.

She kept going.

"You're the only one I trust to give real feedback," she added. "And she's
more comfortable with you than Mimi. Can you go with her? You don't
mind, right?"

I stared at the wall.

At the photo of me and Mimi on the beach two years ago, laughing over
some half-melted coconut ice cream.

"I'll go," I said.

Because what else was I supposed to say?

I didn't ask if Ink had requested it.

I didn't want to know.

The house smelled like lemongrass and something baking.

Khun Mae was in the kitchen, her hair tied back, sleeves rolled up,
humming something old and familiar.

She looked up the second she heard me.

Page 187 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"There she is," she said, wiping her hands on a tea towel. "My favorite
second daughter."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm your only second daughter."

"Still my favorite."

I smiled because it was muscle memory.

She walked over and touched my cheek like I was twelve again.

"Ink's upstairs finishing her tea. You're a lifesaver, Jazz. Really. I know this
whole engagement has been a whirlwind, but-you've been so calm about
everything. So supportive."

If she only knew.

"You know how shy she is," Khun Mae went on. "And you're close in age.
It's nice she has someone to lean on."

I could feel my stomach folding into itself.

"She's lucky to have you."

I nodded. "It's not a big deal."

"It is to her."

Khun Mae said it with so much conviction that for a second, I believed it.

I let myself imagine Ink asking for me, saying my name casually, lightly,
like it didn't weigh anything at all.

I turned toward the stairs before I could think too long about it.

Ink was already coming down, hair tied back, simple sundress, a folder
clutched in her hand.

She paused when she saw me.

Page 188 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Hi," she said, voice neutral.

"Ready?" I asked.

She nodded.

We didn't hug. Didn't touch.

Didn't say a single word on the way to the car.

And I hated how badly I still wanted to.

The boutique was too quiet.

Every surface was soft.

Every corner smelled like perfume I couldn't name.

There was white everywhere-walls, floors, vases, a bowl of sugar-dusted

mints on the front counter that no one touched.

A tall woman with perfect posture welcomed us like she knew we didn't
belong here but had been briefed to pretend otherwise.

"Right this way, Khun Ink," she said with a gracious nod. "We've prepared
the final three silhouettes for today."

Ink smiled politely and followed her in.

I sat on the long beige bench against the mirrored wall, arms folded, ankles
crossed.

The attendant returned with the first dress in less than three minutes-a long
A-line, sleeveless, soft ivory with a deep V that was probably not Khun
Mae-approved.

Ink stepped out of the changing room slowly.

I held my breath.

Page 189 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I don't know why.

She looked...

God.

She looked like a stranger and someone I'd always known, all at once.

The dress hugged her waist, then flowed like something living down her
legs.

Her skin caught the light at her collarbone.

Her lips were bare.

She didn't look at the mirror. She looked at me.

Not shy. Not proud. Just... waiting.

I didn't say anything.

I couldn't.

The attendant gushed. Spun her. Adjusted the neckline.

Ink never looked away from me.

By the second dress - high neck, long sleeves, the kind Khun Mae would
probably cry over - I was gripping the side of the bench so hard my
knuckles ached.

She looked at me again when they zipped her in.

I didn't smile.

She didn't either.

The third dress came with beading so fine it looked hand-stitched by ghosts.

Page 190 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

It glimmered.

She glimmered.

And all I could think was: I kissed you. You kissed me. You still want this.
So why are you doing that?

I stood up before she could say anything.

"I need air," I said, too fast.

The attendant blinked.

Ink's mouth opened, but I didn't stay long enough to hear what she was
going to say.

Outside, I stood with my back against the glass window and let the
Bangkok heat sting my skin.

I needed that sting.

Because if I didn't feel it...

I might've walked back in and asked her to take the damn thing off - not
because it didn't fit.

But because it wasn't meant for her.

She found me outside after the third dress.

Didn't call my name.

Just walked up beside me and stood there like she didn't owe me an
explanation, but maybe wanted to offer one anyway.

I didn't look at her. Not at first.

"You're good at that," I said. "Looking like a bride."

Page 191 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She didn't laugh.

"Jazz."

"No. Let's just..." I exhaled, sharp and low. "Don't say my name like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're still allowed to."

Silence.

The city moved around us, traffic groaning in the distance, a moped stalling
at the curb, someone yelling across the street.

But between us, it was dead air.

I turned to her.

Finally.

"What do you want from me?"

Ink blinked. "I don't..."

"No, say it. You kissed me. You let me kiss you. You don't act confused,
Ink. You're not confused. You know. So why are you still going through
with this?"

I wasn't yelling.

I wanted to be.

But I didn't have the breath for it.

She looked down at her hands.

Her nails were pale pink. Immaculate. Perfect. Just like the dress.

Page 192 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Just like her.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she said quietly.

"That's bullshit," I snapped.

She flinched.

I ran my hand through my hair and backed away half a step.

"Sorry," I muttered. "But I can't do this. I can't sit there and watch you try
on dresses for my brother and then look at me like, like I'm something else."

Her voice was low. Careful. "You are something else."

That didn't help.

It hurt worse.

"Then what is this, Ink?" I asked, stepping closer again. "What was that
kiss? What do you want from me?"

She didn't answer right away.

And then, when she did, it came out too honest:

"I needed to know if it was real."

I stared at her.

Then looked away.

Because if I didn't, I would've said something unforgivable.

I needed to not hear that.

Not after everything.

The car ride back was dead silent.

Page 193 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Ink didn't ask me to explain what I said.

And I didn't offer it.

She stared out the window, her reflection soft against the glass.

A phantom version of her in lace and light.

I gripped the steering wheel so hard it creaked.

Every red light felt like a personal attack.

She gave quiet directions.

Her voice had that steady, careful edge - the one she used when pretending
something didn't hurt.

I didn't know if she was protecting me.

Or herself.

When we pulled up outside her condo, she reached for the handle without
hesitation.

"Thanks for today," she said, not quite looking at me.

I nodded.

"Tell Khun Mae I liked the third dress best," she added.

"You looked... fine in it," I said, voice flat.

She paused for a second. Then nodded. "Right."

She got out and shut the door without waiting.

I didn't watch her walk inside.

I pulled off and kept driving.

Page 194 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Didn't go home.

Didn't turn on music.

Just let the streets pass under me like water.

An hour later, I parked near an overpass I didn't recognize.

Turned off the engine.

Leaned back in my seat.

And tried not to scream.

Because I couldn't hate her.

Not really.

But I hated that she made me want something I wasn't allowed to want.

That she pulled me in and still chose the dress.

And worst of all?

That I understood.

Because I was doing it too.

Sitting there.

Breaking rules.

Breaking myself.

And still hoping she'd ask me to do it again.

💜💜💜
sun

Page 195 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 20. What Shouldn't Be 💜

Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025
Copy : Sun Yan

Ink's POV

Tune dropped me off at my condo just before eight.

He even walked me to the door.

Like a good fiancé.

Not because he wanted to, I think, but because he thought that's what a
good fiancé is supposed to do.

He told me I looked nice.

I thanked him.

He asked if I'd had fun.

I lied.

He said, "Let's do this again soon."

I smiled and said, "Of course."

Page 196 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

He left with a grin that was too soft, too easy, like he'd just aced a quiz he
never studied for.

And the second the door closed, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was
holding for two hours.

I walked to the mirror in my hallway and looked at myself.

Same face.

Same skin.

Same dress.

Except it wasn't the dress I remembered.

It was Jazz's hand.

On my waist.

Her mouth, soft at first, then deliberate.

The pause between her kiss and mine, how I didn't even think, just moved
toward her like gravity had made the choice for me.

I touched my lips and felt heat rise to my cheeks.

God.

How did I get here?

I sat on the edge of my couch and tried to play back the evening with Tune.

Not to enjoy it, just to prove to myself that it happened.

That I'd been present.

That I was still doing the right thing.

Page 197 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

He had talked about his clients.

Something about a rude guest who wanted jasmine rice at 11PM.

I had nodded and laughed in the right places.

He asked about my students.

I told him about a girl named Pailin who still couldn't pronounce her “r.”

He said I'd be a good mom someday.

I changed the subject.

He didn't notice.

He said my family was lucky.

That I was easy to talk to.

I wanted to scream.

Because none of that was wrong.

But none of it felt real.

Nice is nice.

But it isn't enough.

I made tea I didn't drink.

Jasmine, out of habit.

Because Mae always made it after dinner.

I took the mug to the table and sat with it steaming next to my journal.

I stared at the blank page for a while before I wrote anything.

Page 198 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Then I did it.

Just to see.

"Ink Visetsakul."

Then under it, neatly:

"Ink Worapunyachai."

I looked at the name.

Turned it over in my mind.

The loops looked elegant.

My signature curved just right.

It looked like it belonged on an invitation, or a polite thank-you card sent

from a hotel suite with a monogrammed pen.

But it felt...

Cold.

Like a title I hadn't earned.

I stared at it so long the words stopped meaning anything.

Then I turned the page and flipped the journal closed.

I sat in the quiet and let the thoughts come in.

Jazz's fingers in my hair.

The way she said my name when I told her I remembered.

The way her lips hovered like she wasn't going to kiss me until I asked for
it, and I didn't say anything, but I wanted it.

Page 199 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I let her.

I wanted her.

The wanting hadn't stopped.

Not even now.

Not with Tune's name in my mouth earlier.

Not with the lace dress zipped up to my throat.

I should've said something.

I should've told her to stop.

But I didn't.

Because part of me didn't want her to.

And that part is still awake.

Right now.

Still humming under my skin.

Still tracing the shape of her mouth with my memory like it belongs to me.

I pressed my fingers to my lips again.

Just for a second.

Just to feel if the heat was still there.

It was.

And it scared me.

Because I didn't just want to remember what that kiss felt like.

Page 200 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I wanted her to do it again.

The call came just after nine.

I knew it would.

My parents had a schedule for everything, including the phone calls I owed
them.

I took a deep breath and hit accept.

"Hello, Mae," I said, putting on the soft voice I always used with her.

"Ink," she chirped. "Are you home already?"

"Yes, just finished dinner."

"With Tune?"

"Mmm," I hummed. "He dropped me off."

She made a pleased sound.

"He's such a good man. Always so respectful. So well-mannered."

"Yes."

"You're lucky," she added. "I always told your father we'd find you someone
solid. No drama. He'll take care of you."

I nodded even though she couldn't see it.

"I know."

She went on about the caterer.

About the monks for the morning blessing.

About how Auntie Duang had finally RSVP'd.

Page 201 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Then she passed the phone to Papa.

His voice was slower, more careful.

He always made sure I felt he was listening, but somehow never asked the
right things.

"How was your fitting?" he asked.

"It went well."

"And Jazz? She took you?"

"Yes."

"She's a good one, that girl," he said warmly. "Takes care of people. Good
head on her shoulders."

I swallowed hard. "She's always been like that."

"We're proud of you," he said, and that one, that line, landed like something
too heavy to hold.

I bit my lip. "Thanks, Papa."

"Mae wants to book the next tasting this week. You free Thursday?"

"Thursday is fine."

"Good girl."

That was the last thing he said.

When the call ended, I set the phone on the table and just stared at it.

They were so proud.

Page 202 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

So certain.

So kind in the way they carried my life forward like I'd agreed to all of it.

But they never asked the one question that mattered:

Are you happy?

And I don't know what's worse, that they didn't ask...

Or that I would've lied if they had.

I typed:

Did you get home okay?

Then erased it.

Typed:

Sorry about earlier.

Deleted that too.

Then sat there, staring at my phone, feeling like a coward in my own skin.

Eventually I settled on:

Thanks for taking me to the fitting.

It was neutral.

Harmless.

Safe.

She replied ten minutes later.

No problem.

Page 203 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

That was it.

No emoji.

No question.

No crack in the wall between us.

I stared at the screen longer than I should have.

As if rereading it might change the way it made me feel, like something that
used to be warm had gone cold in my hands.

I didn't text again.

I didn't want to push.

Or maybe I didn't want to see what she wouldn't say back.

A few days later, Khun Mae invited me for dinner.

Family only.

Intimate.

"A small thing," she said.

Jazz was already there when I arrived.

Sitting next to Tune.

Laughing at something Mimi was showing her on her phone.

She looked beautiful.

And unreachable.

Page 204 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

And I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.

I sat across from her, next to Khun Mae, and kept my voice light.

Kept my smile in place.

I didn't look at her too long.

But I felt her eyes on me.

Like static under my dress.

Like heat I wasn't allowed to name.

At one point, our knees brushed under the table.

It was accidental.

But I didn't move.

Neither did she.

Until Tune shifted and broke the contact—unknowingly, casually—and just

like that, the charge was gone.

Dinner went on.

Mimi teased me about wedding colors.

Khun Mae praised the soup.

Jazz didn't say much after that.

And I told myself this was what control looked like.

But it didn't feel like it.

She was crouching by the shoe cabinet, sliding on her sneakers.

Her back was to me.

Page 205 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I should've let her go.

But I didn't.

I stepped closer, quietly.

Close enough to see the small knot in her ponytail.

The soft dip of her shoulder blade under the fabric of her T-shirt.

"Jazz."

She froze, just for a second, then looked up.

Her eyes were tired.

Not angry.

Not cold.

Just tired.

"I need to ask you something," I said.

She stood. "Okay."

I opened my mouth, but the words didn't come out clean.

"I don't know what I'm doing," I said, softer than I meant to. "Everything's
moving so fast. The planning. My parents. Tune. I feel like I'm... just
following instructions, and I keep telling myself it's fine, that this is what
I'm supposed to do. But it doesn't feel right."

Jazz didn't interrupt.

So I kept going.

"I try not to think about it. About you. But every time I close my eyes I see
you. On the couch. In the dressing room. Even before that. Years ago. At the

Page 206 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

pitch."

Her face didn't move.

Not even a twitch.

"I wanted to touch you again," I admitted. "In the car. In the boutique.
Everywhere. And I know I shouldn't. I know it's wrong. But it doesn't stop.
And when you kissed me..."

"I didn't kiss you," she cut in. Her voice was sharp, low. "You kissed me
back."

I swallowed. "I know."

We stood there in the hallway.

Close, but not close enough to be dangerous.

She crossed her arms, but her eyes stayed on me.

"You can't keep doing this," she said. "You can't light the match and ask me
why there's fire."

I blinked. "Jazz..."

"You kissed me, and then you put on the dress. You text me like it's nothing.
You look at me like it means something. Then act like it doesn't. I'm trying
so hard to respect your decision, to not make this messy. But you're making
it impossible."

Her voice cracked, just slightly.

She looked away, then back.

"I'm not the one getting married," she said. "You are."

"I don't want to hurt anyone."

Page 207 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Then stop kissing me."

Her words landed like a slap I knew I deserved.

She didn't wait for me to respond.

She walked past me, down the hallway, out the door.

And I didn't follow.

Because I had nothing left to say.

💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 208 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 21. The Fire and the Frame 💜

Silence isn't supposed to have a shape.

But this one does.

It's wide in the morning, when I check my phone before I'm fully awake
and see nothing there.

It's narrow in the evening, when I lie in bed and scroll through old chats like
maybe I'll find something I missed.

It's sharp when I replay her words:

"Then stop kissing me."

It's dull when I remind myself I told her to.

I gave her the reason to walk away.

So she did.

And now there's nothing.

Three days have passed.

No messages.

No calls.

Not even a like on the picture Mimi posted of her dinner plate.

Page 209 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Jazz is gone — not in the physical sense, not in the dramatic movie-scene
sense, but in the most painful one: the intentional kind.

She's giving me space.

Exactly what I said I needed.

Exactly what I can't stand.

I keep thinking of the way she looked at me in the hallway, not angry, not
even hurt anymore.

Just tired.

Like I'd taken something from her and she hadn't decided if it was worth
asking for it back.

And still, my fingers hover over my screen at least ten times a day.

I want to ask if she's okay.

I want to say I'm sorry.

I want to ask her how to fix something I broke before I even learned how to
hold it properly.

But I don't text.

Because if she answers with silence again...

I don't know what that'll do to me.

The call came in just past lunch.

I was curled on the sofa with a blanket I didn't need and a book I hadn't
touched in two hours.

Khun Une's name lit up my screen.

Page 210 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

My heart flickered — stupid, hopeful — before I caught myself.

Of course it's her. Not Jazz.

I answered with the voice I always used for her. Bright. Grateful. Polite.

"Hello, Khun Mae."

"Hello, dearest," she said, her tone already warm. "I won't keep you long.
Just wanted to go over a few things."

I sat up. Tucked the blanket around my knees.

She asked about the temple schedule.

I said it worked fine.

She talked about the reception layout, the place cards, the monogram the
hotel staff was preparing.

I said everything sounded perfect.

"You've been so wonderful about this," she added, voice full of pride. "I
told your mother you'd be a perfect addition to our family. Tune's lucky. So
lucky."

I made a sound of agreement.

I think it passed for a laugh.

She sighed happily. "And it's going to be such a beautiful day. We'll be
surrounded by so much love."

I could feel it then — a thread pulling tight inside my chest.

So much love.

Was that what this was?

Page 211 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I said nothing for a second too long.

Khun Mae didn't notice.

Or maybe she did, and ignored it.

"Make sure you get enough rest," she said, already wrapping up. "You'll
need all your energy. I know these things are exhausting. But after the
wedding, things will settle down. You'll be part of us. Forever."

Forever.

I hung up gently.

Set the phone face-down on the coffee table.

And got up.

The dress was hanging in my closet, zipped in its sheath.

I passed it without looking directly at it.

As if it were listening.

As if it knew.

I closed the door behind me.

And sat on the edge of my bed, hands trembling.

Because I was doing all the right things,

And I felt nothing but wrong.

The café was all soft wood and tiny ferns.

Tune picked the place.

Said it was quiet and "good for thinking."

Page 212 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

He liked places like that — neutral, unobtrusive, designed to make people

feel comfortable without ever noticing why.

He was already seated when I arrived.

No flowers. Just two glasses of water and a folded menu waiting for me.

"Hey," he said, standing up automatically.

I smiled, slid into the seat across from him.

"You look tired," he said. Not unkindly. "You okay?"

"Just didn't sleep much," I replied.

"Too much wedding stuff?"

I nodded. "Something like that."

He launched into a story about a staff member who forgot to confirm a

group reservation and nearly caused a diplomatic incident with a Japanese
tourist.

He told it well.

I laughed where I was supposed to.

He made everything seem light.

Like we were two people gently orbiting each other.

No gravity.

No urgency.

Just soft conversation and smiles.

And for a second, I wanted to believe that was enough.

Page 213 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"I spoke with my dad," he said after the food came. "He wants to start
drawing up plans for the house. Near Sathom. Plenty of room. You'll love it.
Mae's already thinking about the guest room for your parents."

"That's nice," I said quietly.

He reached across the table, fingers brushing mine.

A pause.

I didn't move.

He smiled.

I tried to smile back.

But inside, all I felt was stillness.

No spark.

No breath caught in my throat.

No heat curling behind my ribs like it did when Jazz so much as looked at
me.

Tune's hand was kind.

But it didn't make me feel alive.

I knew he would take care of me.

Be fair.

Gentle.

But when I imagined him saying "I love you" on our wedding day...

I felt nothing.

Page 214 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

And nothing is so much worse than pain.

The sun was low and too bright.

I squinted as I stepped off the curb and toward the convenience store,
already counting what I needed — toothpaste, maybe a drink, something
salty I'd pretend I didn't want.

And then I saw her.

Half a step from the entrance.

Jazz.

Plastic bag in one hand.

Hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows.

Her hair in that loose, too-casual way that always made her look like she
didn't care, even when I knew she did.

She saw me a second before I saw her.

Her mouth didn't move, but her eyes shifted, just slightly, like something
inside her had braced for impact.

I stopped walking.

She didn't.

She kept coming, slow, deliberate, like she'd decided not to run.

We met right at the door.

Too close to pretend we hadn't seen each other.

"Hi," she said.

Polite. Even.

Page 215 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Like we were acquaintances. Not... whatever this was.

"Hi," I replied, a little too quickly.

We stood there.

Neither of us moved.

I could hear the store's auto-door mechanism stutter, trying to decide

whether we were coming or going.

"You look well," I said, because I didn't know what else to say.

She raised an eyebrow. "So do you."

But her tone didn't match her words.

It wasn't cold. Just... blank.

Like she'd erased me.

Or was trying to.

I wanted to say something that would matter.

But I didn't even know how to say hello anymore without it sounding like a
lie.

She stepped sideways, letting me pass.

I caught the edge of her sleeve brushing mine.

That one brush was more electric than Tune's entire lunch.

She looked at me once more before walking away.

Just a glance.

But it punched the air out of my lungs.

Page 216 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Because there was no anger in it.

No longing.

Just goodbye.

I didn't bother turning on the lights when I got home.

The sun was still strong through the windows, stretching long shadows
across the floor, turning the edges of everything gold and soft.

Except nothing felt soft.

I walked to the bedroom.

Opened the closet.

Unzipped the sheath.

The dress stared back at me.

I ran my fingers over the lace, slow, gentle, like maybe if I touched it
enough I'd start to feel something.

I didn't.

I tried to picture it — the ceremony, the aisle, the lights, the people
clapping.

Tune's face waiting at the end.

My mother crying quietly into a lace handkerchief.

Khun Mae smiling like every puzzle piece had finally fallen into place.

And me.

In this dress.

Page 217 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Smiling too.

Grateful.

Good.

Obedient.

I swallowed.

Stepped back.

Closed the closet.

Walked to the mirror.

I looked at my face.

Same as always.

But something behind my eyes looked... off.

Like the color was fading.

Like I was playing a role in a life I hadn't auditioned for.

And suddenly, the silence in the room was unbearable.

So I said it.

Whispered, barely audible:

"I don't want this."

It sounded small.

Like a secret.

But it wasn't.

Page 218 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

It was the first truth I'd spoken in days.

And once I heard it — once I gave it shape — it wouldn't go away.

"I don't want this," I said again, louder.

"I don't want this."

I stood there, trembling.

Dress in the closet.

Wedding two weeks away.

Parents so proud.

A fiancé I didn't love.

And the one person who made me feel something...

Already gone.

.
💜💜💜
sun

Page 219 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 22. Close Enough to Break 💜

Jazz's POV

If I keep moving, it doesn't catch up.

That's been the rule since that night.

Work.

Shower.

Coffee.

Service call.

Wipe fingerprints off panel glass.

Smile at clients.

Log hours.

Drive.

Sleep.

Repeat.

No time for thinking.

No time for feeling.

Feeling is dangerous.

Page 220 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Feeling is how I ended up pressed against Ink's front door with her lips on
mine and guilt blooming under my ribs like a bruise I couldn't show
anyone.

I stacked my next shift full — three calls in the morning, back-to-back.

Lunch on the road.

Another job in the afternoon.

Anything to avoid going home and seeing the ghost of her in my apartment.

I stopped replying to Fern.

She messaged twice:

[Fern]: you ghosting me or married to your wrench kit now

[Fern]: did you see number 9 again?? 👀

I left them both on read.

I didn't have jokes in me anymore.

Mimi tried too.

Asked if I was coming home for Sunday lunch.

Then added, "Ink will be there."

I didn't reply.

Didn't want to be cruel.

But I couldn't fake the older-sister-in-law thing right now.

Not after that last look Ink gave me.

Page 221 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Not after she stood outside my building and acted like we hadn't nearly set
each other on fire.

I thought if I buried it deep enough, it would stop hurting.

But it didn't.

It just found new ways to echo.

The silence stretched.

The city moved.

I kept working.

And all it took to unravel everything again...

Was a little cardboard box.

With her name on it.

And Khun Mae's handwriting on the lid.

The box was no bigger than my hand.

Khun Mae's handwriting on top, clear and looping:

"For Khun Ink – Necklace from spa day. Please give to her directly."

It had been in the drawer of the spa locker.

She'd taken it off and forgot.

I held the box in my palm, like it might burn a hole in my skin.

Mimi dropped it off without much fanfare.

"Mae said to give this to you. You see Ink more than I do, right?"

I nearly laughed at that.

Page 222 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I almost told her to take it back.

But I just nodded. "Yeah. I'll figure it out."

I didn't.

Not that day.

Not the next.

I left the box on my kitchen counter like it might solve itself if I ignored it
long enough.

I didn't text Ink.

I didn't call.

But she did.

Around noon, just after I clocked out from a rooftop job in the heat that
made every inch of my skin itch.

Her name lit up my screen, and I stood there, thumb hovering.

I should've let it ring out.

I didn't.

"Hello?"

"Hi," she said.

Her voice was calm. Polite.

Like we were strangers meeting at a conference booth.

"Mimi told me about the necklace."

"Oh. Right."

Page 223 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

A pause.

"I can stop by to get it," she said. "If that's okay."

My mouth opened. No sound came out at first.

"Sure," I said eventually. "Whenever."

"Tonight?"

"Fine."

"Okay."

Another silence.

"Thanks, Jazz."

She hung up before I could say anything back.

I stared at the phone for a long time.

Then looked at the little box.

Still sitting there.

Still unopened.

Still heavier than it had any right to be.

I cleaned before she came.

Not because I wanted to impress her, just because I needed something to do

with my hands.

Wiped down the kitchen counter twice.

Put away my boots.

Lit a candle I forgot I even owned.

Page 224 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Something citrusy.

Bright.

Totally wrong for the mood in my chest.

The knock came at 7:10.

Right on time.

Of course it was.

I opened the door.

There she was.

Hair up.

Soft shirt.

Natural makeup.

Holding her bag like it might shield her from the room.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey."

A breath passed.

I stepped aside.

She walked in.

She didn't sit.

I didn't offer.

The air between us was so thick I could taste it.

Page 225 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The little cardboard box sat on the counter like a prop we'd both forgotten
how to handle.

I picked it up.

Held it out to her.

She took it, carefully, like it might crack.

"Thanks," she said.

Her fingers brushed mine when she grabbed it.

That tiny contact lit a fuse in my blood.

I took a half step back.

Not out of anger.

Just survival.

She looked at the box, then up at me.

"How have you been?" she asked.

I huffed out a laugh.

"You really want small talk right now?"

She looked down again.

"I just didn't know if we could still... talk."

"We are talking," I said. "Sort of."

Silence again.

She put the box down, gently, and stayed standing.

We were three feet apart.

Page 226 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Felt like miles.

Felt like heat pressed into the floorboards.

"I don't want to fight," she said softly.

"Then don't pick one."

"I didn't come here to make this harder."

"You did," I said. "But it's fine."

Her mouth opened, then closed again.

And suddenly I was exhausted.

Not from her.

From all the pretending.

She stood there like she didn't know what to say.

Like the silence between us wasn't already saying too much.

"I said it out loud," she said finally.

I blinked.

"Said what?"

"I told myself," she murmured. "I said I didn't want this."

"This?"

"The wedding. The... all of it."

I stared at her.

"That's new," I said, arms folded. "Full sentences and everything."

Page 227 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Jazz..."

"No, seriously. Good for you. One small step for woman, one giant leap for
the ‘I Don’t Actually Want to Marry Your Brother’ program."

Her jaw tensed.

"I'm not doing this to be cruel," she said.

"Really? Because it's working."

She exhaled. Slow. Controlled.

Like she was trying not to lose it.

"I didn't ask for this."

"You think I did?"

"You don't get it."

"Try me."

"I have responsibilities."

I snorted.

"So do I. You don't see me marrying random people because my mom asked
nicely."

"It's not the same."

"No, you're right. You have the prettier dress."

"Jazz," she warned.

I leaned back against the kitchen counter.

My voice was light, but every word scraped on the way out.

Page 228 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"So what now? You tell me you don't want it, I give you a medal, and we go
back to what, stolen glances and locked doors?"

"I never said I wanted that."

"Then what do you want?"

She didn't answer.

She looked at the floor.

Hands gripping the strap of her bag so tight the leather creaked.

"God, Ink," I said, quieter. "Are you just gonna feel obligated for the rest of
your life?"

She looked up.

And for a second, she looked like she hated me.

Or worse, like she hated herself.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"That's the problem," I said. "You never do."

I didn't mean for it to sound cruel.

But maybe part of me did.

Because I was tired of being careful.

Tired of being her secret.

Tired of pretending I was okay with halfway.

She stood there.

Didn't cry.

Page 229 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Didn't yell.

Just stood.

And I hated how beautiful she looked, even when she was breaking.

I pushed off the counter.

Didn't look at her.

Just walked toward the door, ready to hand her back to the world.

"Thanks for coming," I said, too flat. Too polite. "You got your necklace.
Take care."

"Jazz..."

"No, it's fine. I get it. You're stuck. I'm... inconvenient. And your wedding's
in what, ten days now? So, let's not make this worse."

She stepped in front of me.

Blocked my way.

Her voice cracked just a little when she said my name.

"Jazz."

I froze.

She reached for my hand.

Fingertips brushing my knuckles like she wasn't sure I'd let her.

I didn't move.

But I didn't pull away either.

It still hurt, feeling her touch me like that.

Page 230 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Gentle.

Careful.

Like I was something she couldn't hold onto but wasn't ready to let go of.

I looked down at her hand on mine.

Then up at her.

Her eyes searched my face.

And she asked it.

Softly. Honestly.

"What do you want from me?"

It wasn't fair.

She knew it wasn't fair.

But I didn't answer.

Because if I said what I really wanted, it would wreck us both.

So I did the only thing I could.

I leaned in.

And kissed her.

Not like before.

Not stolen.

Not tentative.

This one was real.

Page 231 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Deliberate.

Slow.

Her lips parted under mine, like she'd been holding her breath for days and
finally remembered how to exhale.

I kissed her like I wasn't afraid anymore.

Like I'd waited four years to get it right.

And maybe I had.

💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 232 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 23. The Line We Drew 💜

Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025
Copy : Sun Yan

I don't remember how long we stood there.

Mouths on each other.

Hands gentle, then desperate.

Her fingers curled into my shirt like she needed something to hold onto
before she said something unforgivable,

Or maybe she already had.

I kissed her again.

And again.

Slow at first. Then messier. Closer.

My hand slid to the back of her neck, and hers to my waist.

I should've stopped.

Should've backed away.

Page 233 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Should've asked her what the hell we were doing.

But I didn't.

Because in that moment, I didn't care.

We'd already crossed the line.

This was just what it looked like when you stayed there.

When she finally pulled back, our foreheads rested against each other, both
of us breathing too hard like we'd just run for miles.

She didn't speak.

Neither did I.

If either of us said anything, it would become real.

And real meant dangerous.

Real meant consequences.

So instead, I stepped back.

My fingers trailed from her arm to her hand.

I took a breath.

"Come on. I'll walk you down."

She nodded, once.

The door clicked behind us.

We said nothing in the elevator.

Nothing in the lobby.

At the street, she turned toward the edge of the sidewalk.

Page 234 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her rideshare hadn't arrived yet.

"I should..." she began.

But she didn't finish.

"I know," I said.

A soft blink.

Like she didn't expect me to make it easy.

But I wasn't.

Not really.

I just didn't know how to make it anything yet.

Her car pulled up.

She opened the door.

Hesitated.

Then said quietly, "I didn't plan to..."

"I know," I said again.

Because I didn't need her to explain.

Not tonight.

Not when I was still trying to slow my own pulse down.

She got in the car.

I stood there watching the taillights disappear into Bangkok traffic.

The back of my neck burned.

Page 235 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

And my mouth still tasted like her.

I woke up too early.

The kind of early where the light hadn't changed yet, but you knew you
wouldn't be sleeping again.

I stared at the ceiling.

One hand on my stomach, the other draped over the edge of the bed like I'd
dropped something important in the night and hadn't found it yet.

I could still feel her fingers on my skin.

Still feel the imprint of her mouth at the corner of mine, like my body had
memorized her while my brain was too busy panicking.

I got up.

Showered.

Didn't bother drying my hair properly.

Made coffee.

Burnt toast.

Didn't eat it.

Opened the fridge.

Closed it again.

Work. Just work.

That's where my mind had to go.

I packed up my tools and left, trying not to look at the spot where she'd
stood the night before.

Page 236 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Where she'd reached for my hand like she wasn't about to break me in half.

At the second job site, I nearly stripped a screw.

My mind wasn't in it.

Too many phantom sensations.

Too many sentences I wanted to un-say. Or repeat.

My phone buzzed around 11.

(Fern): you alive? you ignoring me or just emotionally constipated.

I stared at it.

Didn't answer.

Ten minutes later, another one came in:

(Fern): i swear if this is about number 9 again, i'm gonna scream.

I shoved the phone in my pocket.

Couldn't do clever right now.

At lunch, Mimi texted.

(Mimi): Are you coming by this weekend? Ink said she might stop in. Mae
wants us all together.

I shut my eyes.

Counted to five.

Then typed:

(Me): Can't. Got a client in Pathum Thani. Might be late.

It was a lie.

Page 237 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

No client.

No job.

Just me, avoiding the gravity of the girl I couldn't have, and the family she
might still marry into.

By the time I got home that night, I didn't even turn on the lights.

Just stood in the doorway, staring at the space where she had kissed me like
she didn't care about consequences.

I'd kissed her back like I did.

And now?

Now it was quiet.

Too quiet.

And the silence was starting to sound like a countdown.

Ink's POV

She poured the tea with both hands, carefully, like always.

Khun Mae sat across from her, cross-legged, in her casual silk blouse and
temple-white pants, humming softly as she adjusted a tray of cookies.

It was one of those days — polite sun, the balcony doors open, everything
filtered in gold.

A picture-perfect afternoon.

Page 238 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

And Ink was playing her part.

"Your mother said the tailor called. Everything's ahead of schedule," Khun
Mae said, gently stirring her tea. "You girls will go again next week, yes?"

Ink smiled, the kind of smile that barely moved.

"Yes, Mae. Mimi's excited. I'll bring her."

Khun Mae sipped. "Good girl. It means a lot to have her involved. You two
seem close."

Ink hesitated. "She's sweet. I..., Jazz too, I..."

She stopped. Froze.

Too late.

Khun Mae glanced up from her cup. It wasn't sharp, but it wasn't nothing.

"You what, dear?"

Ink blinked once. Recovered.

"I... appreciate all the help they've given me."

That landed flat. Like a spoon dropped on tile.

Khun Mae didn't press. Not directly.

But her eyes lingered.

Ink smiled again, smaller this time, and picked up her cup.

Later that night, Ink stood in front of her closet.

She unzipped the garment bag like someone might open a wound.

Page 239 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The dress was perfect.

Hand-stitched lace. Light ivory. Fitted just enough.

She was supposed to feel beautiful in it.

Instead, she felt hollow.

She stared at it.

Then, slowly, sat down on the edge of the bed.

No noise.

Just her.

And the weight of everything she hadn't said out loud.

The tears came so quietly, they surprised her.

No sobbing.

Just steady, silent falling.

Like her body had finally decided it couldn't hold all of this anymore.

Fern picked the place.

Some casual spot in Ari with open windows and overpriced toast.

She waved at me from the patio like nothing was weird, like I hadn't been
ghosting her for days.

Page 240 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"You're alive," she said, grinning as I sat down. "I was two hours from
filing a missing person report. Three if I remembered how emotionally
avoidant you are."

"Very funny," I said, sliding off my sunglasses.

She gave me a once-over.

"You look... tired."

"Thanks. You look aggressively hydrated."

"Yoga," she said, smug. "And the fact that I'm not currently spiraling over a
certain mysterious Number Nine."

I rolled my eyes.

She sipped her iced matcha like she hadn't just thrown a grenade. "You
gonna tell me what happened or do I have to guess?"

I tried to brush her off. "It's nothing."

"That's a lie."

"I'm fine."

"You look like someone who accidentally kissed a nuclear bomb and is now
pretending it was just a little sunburn."

I stared at my plate.

She leaned forward. "Jazz."

I didn't answer.

"Look," she said more softly, "you don't have to tell me everything. But...
you look like you're carrying something heavy. Like, ruin-your-appetite
heavy."

Page 241 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"My appetite's fine," I muttered.

"You've only touched your fork to stab the lettuce. Which, by the way, was
already dead."

I let out a tired breath.

"Okay," she said, backing off a little. "I'll stop. But you know I'm here,
right? Whenever you stop trying to be a brick wall."

I nodded.

She switched the subject.

Talked about her new apartment.

The weird neighbor with five cats and one eye.

I laughed when I could.

But the weight didn't lift.

Because she was right.

I was in too deep.

And I didn't know if I was swimming... or sinking.

There's a buzz in the house.

The kind that starts early in the morning and doesn't stop — people walking
fast, voices calling over each other, someone always asking where the
ribbon scissors went.

Page 242 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Mimi's on the phone, half-dressed, yelling something about last-minute spa

bookings.

Khun Mae is in full general mode — approving flower arrangements,

signing off on menu changes, giving side-eye to the hotel coordinator like
she's preparing for battle, not a wedding.

Even Tune's gotten into it, or at least, he's showing up for the parts that
don't require emotion.

He got a haircut.

Tried on his suit again.

Took a photo in it and texted it to the family group chat with a thumbs-up
emoji.

Everyone's glowing.

Everyone but me.

I sit at the kitchen counter, staring into a mug of coffee I've reheated twice.

Khun Mae breezes past and ruffles my hair like I'm still twelve.

"You ready, Ja?"

I glance up. "For what?"

She laughs. "The wedding!"

I nod, slow. "Yeah. Can't wait."

She doesn't hear the sarcasm.

Or maybe she does, and ignores it like everything else I've left unsaid.

Two days.

Page 243 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Two days from now, Ink will walk down an aisle in a dress I've never seen,
with my brother waiting at the other end.

And I'm supposed to clap.

Smile.

Be part of the photo.

I take another sip of lukewarm coffee.

Pretend it doesn't taste like dread.

.
💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 244 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 24. Exit Wounds 💜

The orchids were ridiculous.

Not in a bad way. Just... too much.

Hundreds of white Phalaenopsis stalks curved like question marks across

the banquet hall.

They spilled down the backs of chairs. Twined along the golden silk table
runners. Reflected in the glossy marble floors like something out of a
dream.

Or a catalogue.

Mimi nudged me with her elbow.

"Try not to scowl."

"I'm not scowling."

"You look like you want to punch a table setting."

"It's early."

She gave me a side-eye. "You wore your black heels. You knew I was
wearing navy."

I raised a brow. "And this is the biggest drama of the day?"

She snorted and walked ahead of me, toward the dressing suite.

I followed slower.

Page 245 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The whole hotel smelled like tuberose and fabric starch.

Waitstaff moved like choreography around the lobby.

Someone was arranging gift envelopes in perfectly even stacks.

A little girl with an elaborate braid tripped over her own dress and was
immediately scooped up by a nanny in pearls.

I felt like I was in a movie.

And not one I wanted to star in.

The wedding was scheduled for 4 p.m.

It was just past two.

Hair and makeup were done.

Tune had already arrived with his friends, joking in the corner, drinking
iced coffee, posing for selfies.

The mothers were beaming.

Khun Mae kissed my cheek and told me I looked beautiful.

I thanked her and tried not to flinch.

I hadn't seen Ink.

Not since...

I pressed my palm against my stomach.

Tried to breathe around it.

Tried to tell myself it was fine.

That I was fine.

Page 246 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

That this day wasn't about me.

Mimi's voice cut through the hum of the room.

"Jazz. Come take a picture."

I nodded and forced a smile.

Let myself be pulled into a photo with her and Khun Mae, standing in front
of a floral arch that cost more than my motorbike.

The camera clicked.

The flash popped.

And still...

Something in my gut whispered: She's not going to show up.

I didn't know if it was hope.

Or fear.

But the stillness wasn't peace.

It was the kind of silence that came before a storm.

The knock on the door wasn't urgent.

That's what made it worse.

It was delicate. Measured.

Like whoever was behind it had something they didn't want to say.

Khun Mae was halfway through fixing her lipstick.

Mimi opened the door, still laughing about something Tune had said.

Page 247 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The wedding planner stood there, clipboard hugged to her chest, headset
askew, fake-smiling like her job depended on the volume of her voice.

Which, I guessed, it probably did.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, voice light. "Is Khun Ink still in this suite?"

Khun Mae looked up from the mirror. "She was in her room an hour ago.
Why?"

"Well," the planner shifted on her heels, "her stylist said she stepped out for
a moment... um, for air. That was a while ago. They're having trouble
locating her now."

The air in the room shifted.

Khun Mae blinked slowly. "She stepped out?"

"Yes," the planner said carefully. "She left mid-hair session. She was calm.
Just said she needed a break. She left her phone behind, but she hasn't
returned."

"How long ago?" I asked, before I could stop myself.

The planner glanced at her watch. "Almost ninety minutes."

Mimi's smile faltered.

Khun Mae's lips pressed into a thin line.

I stayed seated.

I didn't move.

Didn't speak again.

The planner was still talking, gently suggesting someone go check the
garden terrace, or the hotel café, or even the third-floor spa.

Page 248 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Sometimes brides just need a moment, you know?" she said with a little
laugh. "It's a big day."

But no one laughed back.

Mimi left the room with two hotel staff.

Khun Mae told someone to call Ink's mother.

And me?

I sat in the chair with my hands on my knees.

Counting seconds.

Because part of me already knew.

She was gone.

And whatever came next... wasn't going to be clean.

The room was too quiet when we entered.

Ink's bridal suite.

Everything was untouched, except for the chair where the stylist had
worked, half a hairpiece still clipped to the back, bobby pins scattered like
fallen stars.

And the note.

White envelope. Neatly centered. Not hidden.

Like she'd wanted it to be found.

Khun Mae was the first to see it.

But it was Mimi who stepped forward and picked it up.

Page 249 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her eyes scanned the handwriting on the front.

She turned to me, her face pale, her fingers trembling.

"It's for the family," she whispered.

No one moved.

Tune had just walked in.

Saw us all standing still and frowned like we were playing some kind of
bad joke.

I took the envelope from Mimi before I could think.

I slid my thumb under the seal.

Opened it.

And read.

To the Worapunyachai family,

I'm sorry.

I know this isn't how today was supposed to go.

I tried. Truly, I did.

Your family has shown me more grace than I probably deserved, and for
that, I'm thankful.

But I can't walk down that aisle today pretending I'm someone I'm not.

I can't say words I don't believe, just to please people who care about me.

Please understand, this wasn't your fault.

Page 250 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

It was mine.

I let this go too far.

I was scared of disappointing everyone, especially my parents.

But staying would've been the bigger lie.

I hope, someday, you'll forgive me.

— Ink

When I finished reading, no one spoke for a long time.

Mimi wiped her cheek, silent tears trailing down her blush.

Khun Mae sat slowly on the arm of a velvet chair.

Tune looked... almost relieved.

I folded the paper once.

Then again.

Slid it back into the envelope.

My hands were shaking.

But not from anger.

Not from confusion.

Just from the weight of knowing what it costs to tell the truth too late.

"Do we need to cancel the guests now or... do we just stall?"

That was Mimi, voice tight, eyes darting from face to face.

Page 251 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Khun Mae didn't respond right away.

She sat very still, holding her wrist like it anchored her in the room.

A few relatives had already gathered outside the suite, whispering in soft
Thai, heads together like birds huddled before a storm.

I leaned against the windowsill, watching from behind a pane of glass.

Outside, the orchids were still blooming.

The waitstaff still placing champagne flutes.

The music had even started — some classical instrumental playlist meant to
ease people into joy.

No one had told the musicians yet.

Tune stood near the minibar with a glass of water and a look on his face like
he'd misplaced a receipt, not a fiancée.

Mimi turned to him. "Do you want to talk to the guests? Or...?"

He shrugged.

"I guess I'm not as charming as everyone thought," he said with a dry little
laugh.

Mimi's jaw dropped. "Tune."

"What?"

He lifted his hands. "I mean... I barely knew her."

"That doesn't make this normal."

"No, but it makes it easier," he said. "Right?"

No one answered him.

Page 252 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Khun Mae finally stood.

"I need to call her parents," she said, her voice thin but steady. "Before they
find out from someone else."

She left the room.

Mimi followed her with a flurry of apologies and questions.

And just like that, I was alone in a room full of silk, perfume, and a note I
couldn't stop thinking about.

I picked up my bag.

Took one last look at the vanity.

The bouquet still sat untouched in the glass vase.

I left through the side entrance, heels in my hand, silence in my chest.

Nobody saw me go.

Nobody stopped me.

And honestly, if they had... I don't think I would've turned around.

The steps outside the hotel were still warm from the afternoon sun.

I sat there barefoot, heels in one hand, Ink's letter folded in my lap like a
secret I hadn't decided what to do with yet.

No one came after me.

No one called.

I'd slipped out of the chaos so easily it almost felt scripted.

Page 253 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Maybe everyone thought I was just overwhelmed.

Maybe no one noticed.

Maybe no one cared.

I unfolded the letter again.

Read it a third time.

Ink's handwriting was neat.

Measured.

Like she'd taken her time, even in a rush.

She didn't mention me.

Not directly.

Not between the lines either, if I was being honest.

And still, every word felt like it had been poured into my skin, one slow
drop at a time.

I don't know if she ran for me.

Or for herself.

Or because her lungs finally gave out under the weight of being someone
she wasn't.

But I knew this: she was gone.

And for the first time, she hadn't asked me to follow.

I tilted my head back, let my eyes close, listened to the muted traffic in the
distance and the faint clink of glass being cleared from the reception hall
that wouldn't be used tonight.

Page 254 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Someone would have to cancel the dinner.

The cake.

The band.

Someone would ask for refunds.

Someone would whisper that maybe the bride wasn't ready.

But none of them knew what I knew.

That love, when it's buried too long, doesn't disappear.

It rots.

Or explodes.

And maybe this was the sound of something finally blowing itself open.

I got home after sunset.

Didn't remember the drive.

Didn't take the elevator — walked up three flights like it might shake
something loose.

Dropped my bag by the door.

Didn't bother with the lights.

The dress hit the floor in a puddle.

I lay down on the rug in my tank top and shorts, staring at the ceiling like it
owed me an answer.

It didn't give one.

Page 255 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The room smelled like old jasmine tea and faint perfume from a bottle I
never used.

I closed my eyes.

Tried to disappear.

That's when the phone buzzed.

Once.

No ringtone.

Just the screen lighting up in a flash of color.

1 missed call — Unknown Number.

Then the text followed.

"I didn't know how else to say goodbye."

No name.

But I knew who it was.

I read it three times.

Didn't answer.

Didn't delete it either.

Just pressed the screen to my chest, eyes burning, throat tight.

Because the truth was, I didn't know how to say goodbye either.

.
💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 256 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 25. The Vanishing Point 💜

Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025
Copy : Sun Yan

I woke up in my childhood bed like I'd never left.

The ceiling fan spun slowly above me, slicing the morning light into soft,
dizzying loops.

My suitcase sat untouched at the foot of the bed, half-zipped.

I'd only meant to stay one night.

That was three days ago.

Mimi knocked once and pushed the door open with her elbow, holding a
glass of guava juice in one hand and her phone in the other.

"You didn't come down for breakfast."

"I wasn't hungry."

"That's new," she said, placing the glass on my nightstand. "You usually
inhale anything with rice and fish sauce before 10 a.m."

I forced a shrug. "Guess I'm evolving."

Page 257 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Mimi watched me for a second, her expression unreadable, then sat at the
edge of my bed without asking.

"You don't have to mope like someone just died."

I gave her a look.

"Okay," she corrected, "maybe not died, but... come on. It's not your
wedding that imploded."

"I didn't say it was."

"You don't have to. You look like a person who got left at the altar, Jazz."

I didn't answer.

She checked her phone. "Khun Mae's already fielded three reporters asking
for a statement. Dad's pretending not to care, but he's drinking coffee like
it's whiskey. Tune's fine, though. Weirdly fine."

"Good for him."

She stood. "He didn't love her, you know."

"I figured."

"I don't think anyone really knew her."

I looked down at the blanket twisted in my hands. "Maybe she didn't know
herself either."

Mimi paused in the doorway. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm tired."

"That's not what I asked."

"Still my answer."

Page 258 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She didn't push. Just nodded and left, leaving the door open behind her like
some invitation I wasn't ready to accept.

Downstairs, I heard the sounds of normal life — clinking dishes, voices in

the kitchen, the doorbell.

But none of it felt real.

I laid back and stared at the fan.

The air wasn't still.

It was just full of static.

And I couldn't tell if I was waiting for something...

Or trying not to feel anything at all.

By noon, my phone had thirty-four unread messages.

I didn't read them.

I knew what they'd say.

I knew how they'd start — "Heard about the wedding..." or "OMG what
happened??" or worse: "Are you okay?"

The thing no one seemed to realize was that asking someone if they're okay
assumes they had a right to be upset in the first place.

According to everyone, the bride had vanished.

The groom had taken it well.

The family would survive.

And me?

What was I?

Page 259 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Just the sister of the groom.

Not the one left at the altar.

Not the one doing the leaving.

So why did I feel like I was bleeding under my skin?

A message popped up.

[Aunt Noy]: This is so embarrassing for your mother. You all deserve better.

I stared at it.

Deleted it.

Another one came in.

[Friend from high school]: Tune deserves someone loyal. Poor guy.

Blocked.

The next one I didn't recognize.

(Unknown Number): I always thought she seemed fake. You can do better.

I laughed — not because it was funny, but because of how clueless people
could be.

I didn't respond to any of them.

Didn't even open the family group chat.

Even Mimi had gone quiet.

Khun Mae was doing interviews, probably trying to control the narrative.

And Tune?

Page 260 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

He was in the living room, stretched out on the sofa, watching YouTube
videos of drone footage over Iceland like the world hadn't just spun off its
axis.

I scrolled all the way down.

Checked again.

Still nothing from her.

Not even a "seen."

Just blank.

Like she'd never existed in my inbox.

Like the person I'd kissed in the hallway of my apartment... had disappeared
into smoke.

I stared at my reflection in the phone screen.

Eyes too dark.

Mouth too quiet.

Skin too tired.

I typed something into our chat window.

Paused.

Deleted it.

Typed it again:

Are you okay?

Didn't send.

Page 261 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Put the phone face down.

Let it buzz.

Bangkok at night has a particular kind of loneliness to it — the kind that

hums under fluorescent signs and headlights, the kind that wraps itself
around your helmet like wind.

I rode through it anyway.

Didn't tell anyone I was leaving.

Didn't know where I was going until I got there.

The university campus was half-lit and mostly empty.

A guard barely glanced at me as I rolled to a stop outside the sports

complex, probably assuming I was a student running late for something.

The field was locked.

Tall metal gates. Security sign posted. Chain looped through.

Didn't matter.

I knew the corner where the fence dipped just enough.

It was still there, rusted, slightly bent, a gap barely wide enough for me to
squeeze through.

My knees cracked as I landed on the other side.

The grass was damp.

Page 262 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I walked to center field, shoes sinking slightly, the night pressing soft and
heavy on my shoulders.

And I stood there.

Midfield.

The same place I'd stood four and a half years ago.

The same place I'd watched her — Number 9 — sprint across the line with
a kind of intensity that burned straight through me.

She'd smiled at me once.

During that match.

Just once.

And I'd remembered it for years.

Because something about that grin, that spark in her eye, had felt like
lightning in my chest.

I'd told myself it was nothing.

That it was a blip.

A crush.

A fluke.

Then she walked into our living room wearing an engagement ring for my
brother.

And it stopped being a memory.

It started being something I had to survive.

I sat on the grass.

Page 263 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Laid back slowly.

The sky was dull with city haze, but a few stars peeked through.

I stared at them.

Tried to figure out what hurt more — losing her before she was ever mine,
or falling for her again when she never could be.

The grass smelled like rain and cut memories.

I turned my head toward the bleachers — empty now, just shadows — but I
could still see them full.

Teammates yelling, clapping, throwing towels.

The sound of cleats scraping concrete.

And her.

Number 9.

Ink.

Visetsakul.

I pressed my palm flat against the field like I could ground myself in
something.

Like this pitch could remind me who I was before I knew what her mouth
tasted like.

I stared at the sky.

Didn't speak for a long time.

Then quietly, because no one was listening:

"If she asked me to come, I'd go."

Page 264 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The words left my mouth like a secret slipping out under the door.

It scared me.

How true it was.

If she called, if she whispered my name into the silence, I'd drop
everything.

I'd run.

No questions.

No logic.

No armor.

And that terrified me.

Because I didn't know how to want her quietly anymore.

I didn't know how to be her almost.

I didn't know how to go back to a world where she wasn't reaching for me.

But I also didn't know how to be the reason someone else's life cracked
open.

I closed my eyes and laid still.

Let the night press down.

Let the guilt curl up beside me like a second skin.

Because I wasn't just in love.

I was already hers.

And she hadn't even asked.

Page 265 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

It was nearly 1 a.m. when I got home.

I didn't bother turning on the lights.

The glow from the hallway crept through the kitchen blinds anyway, soft
and gray.

The air inside was stale, like everything had been holding its breath while I
was gone.

I dropped my keys on the floor.

Didn't even flinch when they clattered.

I stood in the middle of the living room for a while, unsure if I was more
tired or numb.

Then I sat on the edge of the couch.

Shoes still on.

Dress rumpled from lying on the pitch.

Phone face-down on the table.

I picked it up.

Opened the thread I hadn't touched in days.

Her name still sat at the top.

Ink.

I stared at the blinking cursor.

Typed:

Are you okay

Page 266 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

No question mark.

No emoji.

Just the words.

The barest offer I had.

I hovered over the send button.

Thought about everything I wasn't saying.

Everything she wasn't saying either.

Then I hit send.

The message went through.

No "read."

No reply.

Just silence.

But at least now, it wasn't only mine.

💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 267 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌷[Link] Conversation We Owed

🌷
Ink's POV

I got there fifteen minutes early. Not because I wanted to, because I couldn't
sit in my apartment any longer.

The café was tucked between a photo studio and a bookstore that looked
like it hadn't been open since 1997. Old brick walls. Real wooden chairs,
none of that IKEA laminate stuff.

The smell of coffee hung low in the air, bitter and grounding. A student
couple whispered over shared toast at the next table. No one here knew me.
No one stared. That was the point.

I picked the booth by the window. Sat down.

Got up again.

Sat back down.

Checked my phone. No new messages. There was one message from Jazz:
"Are you okay." I don't know how to answer her.

I glanced toward the glass door just as he walked in.

Tune always moved like someone who didn't need to prove anything—
calm, measured, like traffic and time bent around him. He wore a clean,
pressed shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and his expression was
unreadable.

Page 268 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

He spotted me instantly.

I stood up halfway as he reached the table. He gave me a small nod, then sat
across from me without saying a word.

"Hi," I said first.

"Hi."

I searched his face, but he gave me nothing. No tightness around the jaw.
No coldness in the eyes. Just... Tune. As always.

He looked around the café.

"Nice place."

"Thanks."

"You eat here often?"

"No."

"Probably for the best," he said. "Might ruin your appetite after today."

I managed a weak smile.

"You're not wrong."

He leaned back, folding his arms.

"So. You wanted to talk."

I nodded. "Yes."

"Because you couldn't just text 'Sorry I left you at the altar'?"

"I didn't want to make it worse."

"I think that ship's already on fire."

I winced. "I deserve that."

Page 269 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

He didn't say anything. Just waited.

I glanced down at the sugar packet I'd been turning over in my fingers. I'd
planned what I would say, carefully, respectfully, without emotion.

But the thing about real apologies is... they never go how you rehearse
them. And now, with him sitting in front of me—too calm, too decent—my
throat tightened. Because I'd never felt more ashamed of telling the truth.

I took a breath that didn't do what breaths were supposed to do.

"I'm sorry, Tune."

He didn't react right away. Just tilted his head slightly, watching me.

"I know those two words aren't worth much at this point. But I wanted to
say them to your face. Not through a phone. Not through my parents. Not in
front of a thousand people at a hotel ballroom."

He said nothing. I tried again.

"I'm sorry I left you like that. That I humiliated your family. That I let it get
so far. I should've spoken up weeks ago."

"Why didn't you?" he asked, voice even.

"I didn't know how."

"Try."

His tone wasn't unkind, just firm. Like he wasn't letting me float away
behind vague guilt. I swallowed.

"I wanted to be good," I said. "To be a good daughter. A good fiancée. To do

what was expected. It felt easier to keep going than to throw a grenade into
everything."

"And then?"

"And then I realized I wasn't just hurting myself by pretending."

Page 270 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Still no flicker of anger from him. Just a quiet patience that made it harder
to look him in the eye.

"Was it about me?" he asked.

The question stopped me for a moment.

"No," I said softly. "It wasn't about anything you did or didn't do. You were
respectful. Kind. I never felt pressured. That's what made it worse."

He raised a brow. "How does me being decent make it worse?"

"Because it meant I had no excuse," I said. "You didn't deserve any of this."

"You know," he said, "when I asked Khun Mae to help me find someone, I
thought it'd be easier. Less risk. Less mess. A clean arrangement."

I nodded. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"No," he agreed. "But neither did you. Not really."

That stung more than it soothed.

He looked away for the first time, jaw working like he was biting
something back. Then he exhaled.

"So, you were never going to fall in love with me."

"I thought maybe I could."

"But you didn't."

"No."

We sat there for a moment in the kind of silence that didn't need filling.

"I'm not here to make you feel better about any of it," I added. "I don't
expect you to forgive me. But I didn't want to disappear without owning it.
Not after everything your family gave me."

Page 271 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"You did the hard thing," he said. "Most people don't. I'd rather be hurt now
than... twenty years from now. At least this way, no one wakes up
wondering if they wasted their life."

He nodded slowly.

Then said, without emotion: "My mom hasn't stopped pacing since
Sunday."

I winced.

"She wants to cancel her next golf trip out of shame," he added.

"She shouldn't," I said. "This isn't on her."

"It's not on you either. Not entirely."

That surprised me.

He picked up his glass of water, took a sip, then looked straight at me.

"So. Was it just cold feet... or something else?"

And just like that, the air in the café shifted.

I hesitated.

Not because I didn't know the answer, but because I knew saying it out loud
would make it real in a way it hadn't been until now.

Tune waited.

Still calm.

Too calm.

And I finally said it.

"It's someone else."

Page 272 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

His jaw tightened, barely, but he didn't flinch. He just nodded once, like
he'd expected it.

I kept going, because I had to.

"It's not what you think," I said quickly. "It didn't start with anything
inappropriate. There was no plan. No... deception. But something changed.
Somewhere along the line."

"Who is it?" he asked, though I had the feeling he already knew.

"Jazz."

There it was. The shift.

He blinked, slowly. Looked down at the table.

I pressed on before I lost the courage.

"I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't even realize it was happening. One
minute we were just... existing in the same space, being polite, making
small talk. Then it was her texting me at night. Me wanting her to. Then it
was her showing up in my head when I wasn't with her."

My hands curled around the edges of my seat.

"She made me feel things I hadn't felt in years. Like I could breathe
differently. Like I could say something honest without being measured. I
fought it. I told myself it wasn't real."

"But it was," he said, finishing it for me.

I nodded.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking out the window now.

"Did she know?" he asked after a beat.

"I think so. Maybe not right away. But yes. Eventually."

Page 273 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Did anything happen between you?"

I hesitated. "We kissed. Twice."

His lips pressed into a line. No comment. Just a breath through his nose,
controlled and sharp.

I added quickly, "We didn't sleep together. I swear. And it wasn't about
sneaking around. It was just... it was feelings that built up and couldn't stay
buried."

Tune leaned forward, resting his arms on the table now.

He looked older than he did ten minutes ago.

"And you didn't think to tell me before the wedding rehearsal?"

"I was scared."

"Of me?"

"Of everything. Of what it would mean. Of hurting everyone."

"Well," he said flatly, "we're past that now."

I nodded again, silent.

He didn't say anything else. Just sat there, watching me. Thinking.

And I waited for whatever came next.

Tune sat back in his chair.

He looked at me—really looked at me—like he was still seeing the same

person, just with a new light cast on her.

And still, he didn't lash out. No bitterness. Just a long, exhausted breath.

"I guess I should be angry," he said finally.

Page 274 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"You're allowed to be."

He shrugged. "I don't think I am."

I blinked. "You're not?"

"I mean, sure... I'm embarrassed. Frustrated. My mom might sue someone
just to distract herself from the gossip. But angry? No. Not at you."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he kept going.

"Because deep down," he said, "I knew something was off. You never
reached for my hand. Never looked me in the eye for too long. You were
always... polite. Careful."

"That's how I was raised."

"Exactly," he said. "And I figured, maybe that's just how it starts. Maybe
love can grow out of comfort."

"And now?"

He tilted his head. "Now I know comfort isn't love. Not the kind worth
marrying for."

The lump in my throat returned. I didn't try to speak through it.

Tune reached for the water again, took a sip, then said quietly,
"Jazz, huh?"

I gave a small, helpless nod.

He half-smiled, not amused, just... resigned. "She's a pain in the ass

sometimes."

"She is."

"But she's loyal. And way more romantic than she pretends to be."

Page 275 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I blinked. "Really?"

"She pretends she's all witty detachment," he said. "But Jazz loves deeply.
She just doesn't know how to deal with it when it turns complicated."

That hit something I hadn't been ready for.

"You know," he continued, "if you had told me this six months ago, I
probably would've told my parents I wasn't ready for marriage. Maybe none
of this would've happened."

I stared at him. "You really mean that?"

"I didn't want a wife," he said. "I wanted a quiet life. I thought a wife came
with it. I never stopped to ask myself whether it was fair to you, or me."

That silence settled in again—not cold this time, just... sobering.

"And now?" I asked softly.

"Now," he said, standing, "I guess you're still technically marrying into the
family."

That made me laugh. A broken, stupid laugh, but it helped me breathe

again.

"Call your parents. Face the storm. And if you're going to go after her..."
He paused, met my eyes. "Don't hesitate next time."

We lingered for a second, both standing, both unsure of the next move.

I reached for my purse. "I'll cover this."

Tune was already pulling out his wallet. "No. I got it."

"You sure?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Let me be chivalrous one last time."

Page 276 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I gave him a soft, grateful smile. "Okay."

He placed a few bills under the water glass, then glanced around the quiet
café.

"You really picked a dramatic place for a breakup."

"I was trying not to be seen," I said.

"Well, you succeeded. Unless that couple in the corner is live-tweeting our
trauma."

I looked over.

They were gone.

"Better now than in five years, with a house and two kids and this same
conversation playing out in a much more depressing living room."

That made me let out a tiny, fragile laugh.

"You're handling this suspiciously well."

He shrugged. "I'm upset. But I'm not heartbroken. Not about you, at least.
I'm just mad I didn't see it coming."

"I didn't mean to deceive you."

"I know. And... for what it's worth, I'm relieved."

I blinked. "You are?"

"Yeah," he said, standing up slowly. "Because now I don't have to wonder if

I'm the one who made you miserable."

"Tune."

I looked up at him. My throat burned.

I exhaled through a nervous laugh.

Page 277 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"I really am sorry."

"I believe you."

"You should hate me."

"I probably will... when my mom brings this up during every single meal
until she dies."

I winced. "I can talk to her."

"Don't," he said quickly. "You're not the villain. She just needs time to spin
the story into something she can handle."

"I didn't mean to make things harder."

"You didn't make them harder," he said. "You made them honest."

That hit hard, because I hadn't thought of it that way.

"I hope you find what you're looking for," I said.

He gave a half-nod, then stepped aside to let me pass first. I took it.

Outside, the sky had gone that late-afternoon color where everything was
tinted silver, like the day hadn't decided whether to burn out or settle.

We walked to the sidewalk in silence.

He looked at me one last time. "Tell her."

My heart stuttered. "What?"

"Jazz. Whatever you're holding in... say it. She's stubborn, and she's scared.
But she listens to people who speak clearly."

"I don't know if she'll even pick up my call."

"Then show up."

Page 278 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I looked down at the pavement, then up again. "You're too good, you know
that?"

He laughed. "I'm decent. You're dramatic. Jazz is feral."

That made me snort.

He smiled, a real one this time.

Then he walked away, hands in his pockets, disappearing into the light
traffic without looking back.

And I stood there.

Still.

Lighter.

But not done.

I didn't move for a while.

Just stood outside the café, staring at the streetlamp flickering above the
crosswalk.

The Bangkok noise was soft here, just far enough from Sukhumvit to lose
the sharpness, just close enough that the city never quite let go.

My phone buzzed in my bag.

I didn't check it.

I knew it wouldn't be Jazz.

She hadn't replied to anything since the night before the wedding.

The last thing she'd sent was:

Are you okay

Page 279 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Three words.

No punctuation.

And yet I'd read them a hundred times.

I never answered.

I didn't know how.

Because no, I wasn't okay.

But I also didn't think I had the right to say that—not when I was the one
who pulled the pin and tossed the grenade into her family's perfect little
arrangement.

But now?

Now, I didn't want to hide behind that fear anymore.

Tune was right.

If I really wanted to know...

I had to show up.

No games.

No timing it right.

No polite distances.

Just me.

Stupid, stubborn, unarranged me.

I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone.

No missed calls.

Page 280 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I opened Jazz's message thread again.

Typed:

Can we talk?

Then stared at it.

And deleted it.

Typed again:

I need to see you.

Paused.

Deleted that too.

Finally, I typed:

I'm coming over.

And hit send.

No emoji.

No sorry.

No safety net.

If she didn't want to see me, she'd say so.

But I wasn't going to let my silence say no for her.

💚💚💚
sun

Page 281 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌷27. Fern's Intervention🌷

Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025
Copy : Sun Yan

Fern:
Coffee. Now. Don't argue.

No "hey." No "how are you." No fluff. Just one line. Brutal efficiency in
text form.

I stared at it for a minute, phone balanced on my stomach as I lay sprawled

on the couch like a human version of those plants that wilt when you touch
them.

It had been three days since the wedding-that-wasn't. Since Ink disappeared
from the venue. Since chaos. Since the note. Since silence.

I'd heard from everyone except her.

Mimi had cried. Khun Mae had gone full diplomatic PR mode. Tune was...
unbothered in his Tune way, but definitely annoyed at the mess.

The aunts were all whispering about curses and star charts and someone's
distant cousin who got left for a Muay Thai trainer once.

Me?

Page 282 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I just existed.

Walked around like someone unplugged me from the wall and forgot to
charge the battery.

So, when Fer texted, I knew she wasn't offering sympathy. Fern never
offered sympathy. She offered confrontation disguised as "coffee."

Still, I got up. Changed my shirt.

Tied my hair into a knot that somehow made me look more tired, not less.
And went.

Because even though I didn't want to see anyone.... I kind of wanted to be

seen.

.
.

The café was tucked on a corner near her office building. Fem always
picked weirdly specific places with artisanal chairs and menus printed on
recycled banana leaf.

She was already seated when I arrived, nursing an Americano and judging
me with her eyes.

I slid into the seat opposite her and dropped my phone on the table between
us like a dead animal I was too lazy to hide.

"No iced drink today?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I didn't sleep," I muttered.

"Still in mourning?"

I didn't answer. Fern sipped her coffee.

Then she put the cup down, locked eyes with me, and said: "Where is she?"

Page 283 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I blinked, "What?"

"Ink. Where is she?"

"I don't know."

Fern leaned forward.

"Then tell me what the hell happened."

I slumped in my seat and stirred the air in my empty glass with a straw that
didn't belong to me.

"Shouldn't we start with 'How have you been?' or maybe 'You look like
shit'?"

"I was going to go with 'You look like you're being haunted by a tofu
ghost,'" Fern said dryly. "But I thought I'd cut the crap and get to the good
part."

I dropped the straw.

"There's no good part."

"Then explain the disaster, start to finish."

"No," I said flatly. "You'll judge me."

"I already am judging you. The question is whether I'll understand you
after."

I let out a breath. "You're such a great friend."

"Only to the people I like."

I picked at the label on a water bottle and stared at the condensation

forming along my fingers.

"It's complicated."

Page 284 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Fern blinked slowly. "Did you sleep with her?"

My head snapped up. "No! Are you crazy?"

She sipped her coffee calmly. "Okay, cool. That clears one thing up. Now...
did you want to?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you trying to shame me or write fanfiction?"

"I'm trying to figure out why you look like a kicked puppy who hasn't eaten
in three days."

"I have eaten."

"One rice cracker and a vitamin gummy do not count."

I went quiet.

She let the silence stretch, like she was daring me to keep hiding under the
sarcasm.

"Do you know where she is?" she asked again, softer this time.

"No," I said.

"Do you want to?"

I didn't answer.

She leaned forward, her voice low but sharp. "Jazz, did she leave because of
you?"

That cracked something in my chest. I exhaled, short and hard.

"She left because she didn't want to lie anymore."

"Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't have to."

Page 285 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I looked away before Fern could see the rest of my face. But it was too late,
she already knew.

"I was at the venue," I said. "In that stupid salmon-pink suit my mom
picked because it looked good on my skin tone, Mimi was doing her fake
hostess smile, the uncles were sweating through their jackets..."

I stopped. My voice felt tight in my throat. Fern stayed silent, watching.

"And then my mom gets a call. Then another. Then Tune's best man runs
past me in the hallway like someone set the building on fire. The whole
place goes from fake elegant to absolute chaos in thirty seconds."

I didn't realize I was gripping the edge of the table until I heard the soft
squeak of my fingers against it.

She left a note," I said, quieter now. "Just... I'm sorry, I can't do this. Bla
bla...' Folded in half. Left on the bed in the bridal room like some K-drama
runaway bride bullshit."

Fem's mouth twitched. "Did you just reference your own genre?"

I ignored her. "I didn't even get to see her. Didn't get a call. Didn't get one
single second to ask why."

She nodded. "But you already know why."

I looked down. "Yeah."

"Because of you."

"Because of us." My voice snapped louder than I meant. "Because

something real was happening between us and neither of us knew what the
hell to do about it. Because I kept pretending I was fine with the
arrangement, and she kept trying to be the daughter her parents raised, and
somewhere in the middle of all that, we found a thing we weren't allowed to
say out loud."

Fern let the silence linger.

Page 286 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"You're angry at her," she said, calm as ever.

"I am."

"But you understand."

I nodded once, jaw clenched, "And that's what pisses me off most.”

She raised a brow. "Because I can't hate her for it."

I whispered. "I want to. I want to be mad, to tell her she's selfish, reckless, a
coward,.."

"She is," Fern cut in, "and she's also probably in love with you."

My throat burned.

"I told her not to do anything that would mess with the family," I said, "I
told her to just go through with it if she wasn't sure. And then she... she
disappeared instead,"

Fern's voice softened. "You told her to go through with it.., even when you
knew you'd hate it."

I didn't reply.

Because she was right. Again.

"You're mad because she left," Fem said, voice steady. "But deep down,
you're madder that she had the guts to do what you didn't."

My eyes snapped up. "That's not..."

"She faced it, Jazz," Fem cut in, leaning in closer. "Her parents. Tune. The
whole wedding. You know how hard that must've been? To run from all
that? To own it?"

"She left."

Page 287 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"Exactly. She acted."

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

Fem continued, voice low but sharp. "You've been playing it safe this whole
time. Flirting from a distance, telling yourself you're noble for not
interfering. Making sure no one gets hurt, except both of you."

"You think I didn't want to scream it from the rooftop?" I snapped. "You
think I didn't want to say 'don't marry my brother' every damn time I saw
her walk through our house?"

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because she wasn't mine to keep, Fem!" My voice cracked. "She was
engaged. To my brother. And we were raised not to cause scenes, not to
bring shame, not to fall for people who already belonged to someone else!"

"Belonged?" Fern scoffed. "She wasn't property, Jazz. She was scared. Just
like you. But she chose to walk away from all of it. What did you choose?"

I looked away.

She didn't let me off the hook.

"You want to stay angry?" she said. "Go ahead. But be honest about why.
Because right now, you're angry at the part of her that reminded you you're
still too afraid to be honest."

That one landed deep, like a blow I'd seen coming, but couldn't dodge in
time.

"I didn't want to make things worse.”

Fem stared at me.

Then she said, quieter this time, "Worse than waking up every day
wondering what could've been?"

Page 288 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I closed my eyes.

And didn't answer,

I slumped back in my chair, arms folded, eyes on a scratch in the wood of

the table. "I'm not afraid of her," I said.

Fem didn't respond.

"I'm afraid of everything around her."

"Like?"

I exhaled. "Khun Mae. My dad. Mimi's face if she ever finds out. The
cousins. The aunts. The neighborhood gossip groups that talk like their
words can actually set fires." I looked up. "And Tune. Most of all, I'm afraid
of hurting him."

Fern nodded. "Okay. So you're afraid."

"Yeah. That's not... news."

"You think that fear makes you the good guy in this?"

"I think it means I'm not reckless."

Fern leaned in. "No, it means you're comfortable. There's a difference."

I felt my chest tighten.

"You're scared because it's not just some casual fling," she said. "You know
if you open that door, it changes things. It matters. And if it matters, then
you can lose it. So you'd rather stay half in, half out."

I didn't argue.

She went on. "But you're already miserable."

"Thanks."

Page 289 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"And so is she."

I looked up. "You don't even know..."

"She left a wedding, Jazz," Fern cut in. "She blew up the entire social order
of two families. That doesn't come from boredom or whim. That's someone
who hit their breaking point."

I closed my eyes. "I don't know if I can face her."

"Why? Because you might still want her?"

"Because I do want her," I whispered.

And there it was.

The sentence I hadn't said to anyone out loud. Not even to myself in the
mirror.

Fern leaned back. "Then stop lying to both of you."

I stared at my water glass. The condensation had pooled underneath it,

forming a small, imperfect circle.

She added, "You're not the villain. You're just scared. That's not noble.
That's just... fear. And fear doesn't get to decide what happens next."

I nodded slowly.

Then asked, quietly, "What if I'm too late?"

Fem gave a small shrug, "Then you'll know. But you won't have to keep
wondering."

I got home and didn't turn the lights on.

Page 290 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

There was something about the dimness that made it easier to breathe. The
hallway light from the apartment complex spilled under the door and cast
that long, thin line across the floor, cutting the silence in two.

I dropped my bag, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed on the couch. My

body was tired, but my head was... electric.

Fern's words were still circling. Fear doesn't get to decide.

I sat there for what felt like forever, not scrolling, not pacing, not distracting
myself. Just... sitting. Feeling everything press against my ribs at once.

And then my phone buzzed.

I didn't rush to check it. Honestly, I expected it to be Mimi asking if I

wanted leftovers or my mom sending me a forwarded Buddhist proverb
about letting go of anger.

But when I finally picked it up, the name that lit up the screen wasn't either
of them.

It was Ink.

The preview of the message read:

I'm coming over.

No emojis. No "please." No fragile "Can I?"

Just I'm coming over.

I stared at it.

My thumb hovered over the screen like it needed permission to feel.

Was I still mad?

Yes.

Page 291 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Was I still hurt?

Absolutely.

But for some reason, my first reaction wasn't panic. It wasn't rage. It was
this strange, shaky relief.

Like my body had been holding its breath for days and finally remembered
how to exhale.

I didn't reply. Didn't need to.

If she was really coming, she'd be here soon.

And whatever we were now... it wouldn't be decided by silence.

💚💚💚
sunyan

Page 292 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 28. You Came Back 💜

The doorbell rang like it was scared of itself. One short chime.

Then nothing.

I didn't move.

Just sat there, elbows on knees, staring at the little metal knob of the front
door like it might do me a favor and speak first.

Of course it was her.

Ink wasn't the type to say something unless she meant it. And she said she
was coming over.

Still, I let the silence stretch.

Maybe I wanted her to feel the wait.

Maybe I needed the few seconds to figure out who I was going to be when I
saw her again, the angry version of me, the one who had every right to slam
the door in her face... or the one who kept rereading her last text like it
meant something.

Eventually, I stood. Crossed the room.

Paused with my hand on the knob. Breathed.

Then opened the door.

There she was.

Same black T-shirt from that cursed spa day. Same tattoo peeking out
beneath the left sleeve. Her hair was down, not sleek like usual, but loose, a

Page 293 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

little unruly, like she hadn't touched it since running her hands through it ten
times too many.

She didn't smile. Neither did I.

I just... looked at her.

Four seconds passed. Maybe five. Then she spoke. Soft. Careful.

"Hi."

I leaned against the frame. "So, you actually came."

She nodded.

I stepped aside. "Don't make me regret it."

She walked in. Didn't touch anything. Didn't sit.

She just stood in the middle of the living room like she was scared the floor
might give out beneath her.

Honestly?

Same.

I walked to the kitchen and poured two glasses of water.

It gave me something to do. Something quiet. Something neutral.

When I turned back, she was still standing there, arms loosely crossed,
shoulders stiff, like she didn't know if she was allowed to exist in my space
anymore.

I handed her one of the glasses without looking at her. "Sit down."

She did.

Page 294 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

We took opposite corners of the couch. The cushions between us felt like a
country border.

I drank.

She didn't.

The silence stretched again—not awkward, not hostile. Just... tense. The
kind of silence you only share with people who matter too much to lie to.

She opened her mouth once. Closed it.

Then again: "I..."

"Don't," I cut in, not unkindly. Just firm.

She blinked.

I set my glass down. "I don't want you to say sorry unless you mean it."

"I do."

"Not the generic kind. Not the 'sorry for the drama, sorry for the scene,
sorry for the note on the bed' kind."

She looked down.

I waited.

Because that was what I'd been sitting with these past few days—not just
the anger. Not just the mess. But the unbearable question of why me? Why
show up in my life like a spark, light it all up, then disappear?

She finally spoke.

"I didn't come to say sorry like it's a checklist," she said. "I came to talk. If
you'll let me."

I studied her.

Page 295 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The tired eyes.

The worn posture.

The ache just under her voice.

"Then talk," I said. "But no speeches. I'm not in the mood to be impressed."

That made the corner of her mouth twitch—not quite a smile. Something
more like relief.

But I wasn't smiling. I was bracing.

Because if this was going to be real, it had to start real.

"I was mad at you," I said. "Still am."

"I know."

"Do you?" I turned to face her fully. "Because you vanished, Ink. Left a
note. Like it was a hotel checkout and not my brother's wedding."

She flinched, not visibly, not dramatically—just enough to register in the

breath she took afterward.

"I panicked," she said.

"You didn't even call."

"I didn't know if I could."

"You could've called me."

"I was ashamed, Jazz."

I went quiet.

Ink pressed her palm to her forehead and exhaled.

Page 296 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"I didn't plan to disappear. I swear. I was getting dressed. The veil was
already pinned. I just... looked in the mirror and thought, 'This isn't me. This
isn't my life. This is someone else's dream'."

"And then what?" I asked. "You just walked out?"

"I walked toward something I should've walked toward a long time ago."
My throat tightened.

She looked at me then, eyes dark and quiet and honest. "I thought maybe if
I stayed gone, it would make it easier for you. For everyone. I figured you'd
move on faster if I wasn't around."

"You don't get to decide that for me."

"I know."

The silence buzzed between us again, but this time it wasn't empty.
It was full of everything we'd swallowed, every want we never named,
every late glance that said too much too early.

"I missed you," she said quietly. "From the second I walked away."

"That's your problem," I said, lips tight. "You keep walking away."

She looked at me, and for the first time, there wasn't a wall between us.

"I'm not running anymore," she said.

"Why?"

"Because Tune told me to face the mess I made.”

I blinked. Ink smiled, barely. "He said if I loved you, I should show up."

The words hung there. Heavy. Loud.

I didn't react. Not yet.

Page 297 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She leaned back, arms crossed. "So I'm here."

I stared at her.

This girl who'd torn through my life with the softest voice and the most
infuriating restraint.

She'd disappeared and returned like a storm pretending to be a breeze. But I

couldn't keep playing this game with her, not anymore. Not now.

So I asked it.

The question that had been scraping at my insides since the night she left
that damn note.

"What do you want, Ink?"

Her brows twitched, just slightly. But she didn't look away.

"You want to fix the wedding mess? Clear your conscience? Get closure so
you can sleep better?"

"No."

"Then what?"

She took a breath. Not the shaky kind. The kind you take when you finally
drop the act.

"You."

Just that. One word.

Quiet. Bare. Certain.

I didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Page 298 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Because I'd played this scene out in my head too many times. Always with
her reaching. Always with me flinching. Always ending in almost.

"You want me," I repeated, eyes narrowing. "After everything?"

She nodded. "Especially after everything."

"That's not how this works."

"It is now."

I shook my head, heart in my throat. "You think saying that one word makes
it all better?"

"No," she said. "I think saying it is the start."

We stared at each other. And I hated how badly I wanted to believe her.
Because if I did... it would mean forgiving.

It would mean risking everything, again.

But I also knew something else.

If I didn't, I'd be lying to myself for the rest of my life.

She didn't move.

Neither did I.

But something in the air did, the way it always did when we got too close.

Ink leaned in a little, slow, cautious, like she was waiting for me to bolt.

I didn't.

Her hand brushed against mine on the couch cushion. I could've pulled
away.

I didn't do that either.

Page 299 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Fingers touched.

Then held.

A small, almost trembling breath escaped her lips.

"I've thought about this. Every day. Since that night."

"I know," I said, quietly.

She leaned closer.

I let her.

Foreheads touched, not a kiss, not yet, just the weight of closeness.

Of now.

Her scent was still the same.

So was the ache.

And the fear.

I tilted my head, lips close enough to taste the promise there. But I stopped.
Paused.

My voice barely came out. "If you're here because it's safe now... don't
stay."

Ink's eyes opened, inches from mine. "I'm here because I'm done lying."

"To them?"

"To myself."

My chest tightened.

Page 300 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She added, "I'm not asking you to fall into this. I'm just asking for a chance
to try. Properly. Out loud."

I looked at her, really looked, and for the first time, she wasn't running.

She was choosing.

Me.

Us.

I exhaled slowly.

Then whispered, "Then don't kiss me until you mean it."

She smiled, soft and real. "I already do."

But she didn't kiss me.

She waited.

For once, that felt like enough.

🌷🌷🌷
sunyan

Page 301 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 29. Family Matters 💜

The driveway hadn't changed.
Same trimmed hedges. Same quiet gravel crunch under the tires. Same
porch light that flickered for half a second before turning on completely,
like even the house wasn't sure if we were welcome.

Ink sat beside me in the passenger seat, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Too neatly. Her shoulders were too straight. Too stiff.

"You don't have to go in," I said quietly, keeping my eyes on the front steps.
"I can talk to them alone first."

She shook her head. "I want to."

"Even if it's a war zone in there?"

"I started the fire," she said. "I should face the smoke."

I turned toward her, just a little. "They might say things you don't want to
hear."

"So might you."

That made me crack the faintest smile. "That sounds like a challenge."

"Only if you lose your temper first."

She was trying to be brave. But I could see it, the twitch in her fingers, the
slight bounce of her heel against the car mat. Ink wasn't just nervous. She
was scared. We both were.

I reached for the door handle and paused.

Page 302 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"You ready?" I asked.

"No," she said. "But let's go anyway."

We stepped out of the car together.

The air was heavy, not with heat, but with everything unsaid. The kind of
tension that lived in family houses.

The kind that built up between matching teacups and generations of doing
things "the proper way."

I rang the bell.

The door opened quicker than I expected.

Khun Mae stood there in a loose blouse and house pants, holding a towel in
one hand, like we'd interrupted her mid-cleaning or mid-fuming, I couldn't
tell which.

Her eyes landed on me first.

Then Ink.

And for a second, no one spoke.

Not even the wind.

Khun Mae didn't say anything. She just stepped aside.

We walked in slowly, the way people enter temples, or funerals, or their

own homes when they know they're not quite welcome.

Ink walked beside me, her steps measured. Respectful.

I led us to the dining room, where every important conversation had

happened since I was old enough to understand the weight of "sit down."

The long teakwood table was already set with two glasses and a pitcher of
water.

Page 303 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Someone had prepared for this.

Khun Chatchai sat at the head of the table, reading glasses perched on his
nose, a copy of the Bangkok Post folded neatly in front of him. He looked
up, removed his glasses, and gave us both a single nod.

"Ink," he said calmly. "Jazzy."

I didn't correct the nickname. Somehow, tonight, it didn't matter.

Khun Mae joined him and sat at his left, towel now draped over her arm
like she was trying to remember where she'd left off in the house before the
world shifted.

We sat opposite them.

Ink clasped her hands in her lap again. I kept mine flat on the table.
No one touched the water.

Khun Mae broke the silence first. "So."

Just that. One word.

A battlefield in a syllable.

I looked at Ink, then back at them. "We came to talk."

"You could've done that before the wedding was ruined," she said.

"Mae," my father murmured, not a warning, just a cue.

Ink straightened her back. "I owe you both an apology."

Khun Mae didn't move. "That's true."

"I was scared," Ink continued. "I should've spoken up sooner. I didn't mean
to disrespect you. Or the arrangement. Or your son."

"Where is Tune, by the way?" I asked.

Page 304 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"He's out," Khun Chatchai said. "He asked not to be here tonight. Said it
wasn't his story to sit in."

I swallowed. That sounded like him.

Ink continued. "I never wanted to hurt anyone. But I also realized I couldn't
marry someone I didn't love. And I couldn't keep lying about what I felt."

Khun Mae's voice was quiet but sharp. "What do you feel, then?"

Ink looked at me. Then back at her.

"I love Jazz."

No fanfare. No hesitation.

The words dropped into the space like a stone into deep water, no splash,
just impact.

I felt my throat tighten.

Khun Mae's face didn't move. "And what about our family? What about
Tune? Mimi? The people who traveled, arranged, prepared..."

"Khun Mae," I said, gently but firmly, "it wasn't a real engagement. It was a
plan. A convenient one. Tune agreed to it because it was easier. But it wasn't
real."

She looked at me. "And this is?"

I nodded once. "Yes."

Khun Chatchai sighed. He hadn't said much. But now, he did.

"You made a mess," he said to Ink. "But you came back to clean it. That's
more than most do."

It wasn't approval.

Page 305 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

But it wasn't rejection either.

And in this house, that was already a miracle.

Silence fell again.

The heavy kind. The kind that usually came before someone stood up and
ended the conversation without ending the issue.

I looked at my father. He was staring at the glass of water in front of him

like it might reveal the future.

Khun Mae... I couldn't read. Her face was so still, I wondered if that was
how she masked heartbreak. Or maybe confusion. Or both.

Ink sat beside me, hands now unclenched, but still quiet, like she'd used up
all her words.

Then I heard it.

A creak on the wood floor behind us.

I turned just in time to see Mimi, barefoot, her oversized sleep shirt hanging
past her knees, arms folded on the banister halfway up the stairs.

She'd been listening.

Of course she had.

"Mimi," I said softly.

She didn't come down.

Just stood there, her expression somewhere between sleepy and too awake
to be normal.

"You're loud," she said dryly.

Khun Mae turned, startled. "You should be in bed."

Page 306 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"I was. You guys were yelling with your eyes."

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Mimi yawned, like the whole thing was mildly annoying but tolerable.

"So. You love her?"

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off with a hand wave. "No, don't
answer. That was rhetorical. I heard it."

She looked at Ink. "And you love her back?"

Ink blinked, then nodded once. "I do."

Mimi shrugged. "Well. Weird, but okay."

Khun Mae raised an eyebrow. "Weird?"

"I mean, you're Jazz. You eat cereal with a fork and cry at beer
commercials."

"Mimi—"

"But," she continued, "if you're happy, then... that's what matters, yeah?"

There was no big moment. No tears. No dramatic hug.

Just Mimi disappearing back upstairs with a muttered, "Don't kiss in the
living room, that's where I eat noodles."

I exhaled.

For the first time all night, I felt my shoulders drop a little.

Khun Chatchai finally picked up his glass of water and took a sip.

Page 307 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Khun Mae looked between the two of us again.

She didn't say yes. But she didn't say no.

She stood.

And quietly said, "We'll speak again tomorrow."

And that... was enough.

.
💜💜💜

Page 308 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💜 [Link] Going Back 💜

Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025
Copy : Sun Yan

The light was already starting to press through the thin curtains when I
blinked awake, Bangkok outside was in warm-up mode, motorbikes
growling down early streets, someone slamming a gate two buildings over,
the distant trill of a street vendor shouting about fresh soy milk.

The usual.

But nothing about this morning felt usual.

Not with Ink sleeping beside me.

She hadn't taken the bed like she owned it. Of course not. Ink had curled
herself along the top half of the covers, polite even in exhaustion, one hand
tucked under her cheek, the other loosely draped across a pillow like she
was afraid to move too much.

She looked like she'd fought a war yesterday and barely survived. Which, in
a way, she had.

She'd gone to her parents' house straight after leaving mine the night before.

Didn't stall.

Page 309 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Didn't overthink it.

She just... went.

And then she texted me at midnight:

It wasn't easy. But I told them everything. And I'm still breathing.

That was all she said. But I knew what that line had to cost her.

Facing my parents was one thing. They weren't saints, but they were
modern enough to leave the door cracked.

Her parents?

Different story.

They were old Bangkok money, image mattered, legacy mattered, who-you-
marry-and-how-you-look-at-a-family-dinner mattered.

But she went.

She stood in their living room with her shoulders square and said she wasn't
marrying Tune.

That she fell in love with someone else.

A woman. Me.

She told me later her mother had cried.

Her father didn't say much. But he didn't disown her either. Just said,
"You've made your choice. Make it count."

I don't know if that meant approval.

But it meant she was still allowed to be their daughter.

And that was more than she feared.

Now she was here.

Page 310 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Curled next to me like she hadn't run at all.

I didn't reach for her.

Didn't touch her hair or trace the lines of her back, even though I wanted to.

I just watched her breathe.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel the need to rush.

We didn't say much at first.

Just moved around the kitchen like two people pretending they knew how
to live together, Ink pulling plates out of the wrong cupboard, me forgetting
where I put the jam, both of us acting like we weren't intensely aware of
every inch of space between us.

I made toast.

She peeled mango.

No music.

Just the soft scrape of a knife on fruit skin and the clink of ceramic against
countertop.

It was quiet.

But not empty.

"I'm surprised you eat breakfast," she said eventually.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"You don't strike me as a 'mango and toast' kind of woman."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Page 311 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She tilted her head. "You strike me as a 'coffee, sarcasm, regret' kind of
woman."

I laughed, short and real. "You're not wrong."

She smiled at that, but didn't look up from her mango.

We sat at the little round table near the window, plates between us, knees
brushing every now and then.

About halfway through my second slice of toast, she asked it.

"What now?"

I didn't answer right away.

Because it wasn't a casual question.

Not from her.

Not after walking away from her parents.

Not after telling the truth in a house built on plans and expectations.

She had no fallback now.

No safety net.

I wiped my hands on a napkin and looked at her.

"We figure it out," I said. "Together. Whatever that looks like."

"Is that a plan?"

"No," I admitted. "But it's a start."

She was quiet for a second. Then: "They said I disappointed them."

"Your parents?"

She nodded.

Page 312 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

I reached across the table and touched her wrist, gently. "You were honest
with them."

"That's not always enough."

"No," I said, "But it's something. And it's more than most people ever do."

She looked at me then, like she was memorizing something she didn't want
to forget.

I didn't say I was proud of her.

I didn't need to.

It was in the way I held her gaze and didn't look away.

Ink picked at a slice of mango, letting it slide around her plate like she was
debating whether to eat or just stall.

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms.

"You want to know something stupid?"

Ink looked up, curious. "Always."

I smiled, slow and lopsided. "The moment I knew."

"Knew what?"

"That I liked you."

She blinked. "You mean when I came back?"

"No. Long before that."

"Before...?"

I nodded. "Four and half years ago. University match. Exhibition night. You
were playing Number 9,"

Page 313 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her brow furrowed, then cleared. "Wait."

"Yeah."

"The football pitch?"

"You grinned at me," I said. "Wiped sweat off your lip with your sleeve.
Had this stupid confidence like you knew exactly how fast you were about
to run past me."

Ink looked stunned.

"I was playing midfield," I said. "You were center back. I remember
thinking, Oh no, she's cute and she's going to make me look bad. And then
you did."

She covered her mouth, but not before I saw the smile.

"Are you serious?"

"I had a crush on a ghost," I said. "Didn't even know your name. Just... kept
remembering that number on your back."

Ink laughed, soft, genuine, surprised. "I remember that game."

"You do?"

"You got past me once.”

I grinned, "And then?"

"You tripped."

"On the grass?"

"On your own damn feet."

I groaned. "Don't ruin this for me."

Page 314 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

But we were laughing now, and it was the kind of laughter that healed
something, not loud or showy, just warm and overdue.

When it faded, I looked at her again. And I said it.

"Let's stop pretending."

Ink's smile quieted. "Pretending what?"

"That this is complicated."

She held my gaze.

I reached over, fingers grazing hers across the table. "We date. We become
girlfriends. That's what now means."

She blinked, once.

Then nodded.

"Okay," she said.

Like it was that simple. Because maybe it was.

We cleared the plates after breakfast. She washed. I dried. Like we'd been
doing this forever.

I didn't know what came next. We hadn't talked about logistics. About
people. About labels for the outside world. But somehow that felt small,
compared to what we'd just climbed through to get here.

I was wiping the counter when I felt her behind me. Not hovering, just
close.

I turned.

Ink looked up at me, eyes soft, no shield left. And then she said it.

"I love you."

Page 315 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Just that.

Not I think I do.

Not Maybe.

Not I'm figuring it out.

She said it like she'd already been living with it for months. Maybe years.

I didn't move. Didn't rush to fill the space. I let it hang there, like a chord
still ringing after the song's already over.

Because I'd heard those words before, from people who didn't mean them.
Or worse, from people who did mean them, but only for a while.

But from her? It felt different. It felt... real.

Still, I didn't say it back. Not yet.

Instead, I walked over to her and brushed her hair behind her ear. She tilted
her head slightly into the touch.

"I'm not saying it just to say it," she said.

"I know."

"And I don't need you to say it back."

I looked her in the eyes. "But I will."

She blinked.

"When it's quiet," I said. "And it's not about chaos or timing or choices. Just
you and me. Just the truth."

She smiled, not wide, not dramatic. The kind of smile you save.

And I knew then that we'd be okay. Not perfect. Not easy. But okay.

Page 316 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

The city didn't pause for us.

Out on the balcony, Bangkok hummed like it always did, tuk-tuks rattling
down sois, scooters zipping by with too many passengers and too little
helmet, some uncle shouting about durian from across the street like he was
auctioning gold.

Same noise. Same haze.

But everything looked different.

Ink stood beside me, her hip just barely touching mine. We didn't say much.
We didn't need to.

I sipped my coffee. She sipped hers. Black for me. Too much sugar for her.

Someone below barked. Someone laughed.

I turned to her. "You sure about this?"

She didn't even blink. "Are you?"

"I'm terrified," I said.

She smiled. "Me too."

"Still want to try?"

She slipped her pinky around mine. "More than anything."

I exhaled.

And for once, it didn't feel like letting go. It felt like stepping in.

No hiding.

No pretending.

Just us.

Page 317 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Right here. Right now.

.
🌷🌷🌷
sun

Page 318 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

💖 Epilogue - The Pitch Again 💖

Book : Runaway Bride
Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025
Copy : Sun Yan

Ink's POV

Six months later, I'm back on the field again.

Not professionally, those days were gone. But today's for a charity
exhibition game, some alumni event for our universities.

Friendly rivalry. Mostly.

The air smells like heat, grass, and old sweat. Jazz is sitting in the stands
with Fern and Ice, yelling something half-supportive, half-sarcastic.

I'm wearing Number 9 again.

I swear I didn't ask for it. They just gave it to me.

Somewhere between kickoff and halftime, I glance toward the stands.

She's there, arms folded, oversized sunglasses hiding half her face, but I can
still tell she's smiling. Not the smug kind. The proud kind.

Page 319 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Like she's watching her team win, even if we're two goals down. I don't
know what I did to get her, to get this.

But I know what I did to keep it. Told the truth.

I stayed.

And she let me.

After the match, we meet by the sidelines.

"You were decent," she says, handing me a water bottle.

I raise an eyebrow. "Just decent?"

"You're slower now."

"Still faster than you ever were."

She grins. "Rude."

We walk toward the locker room, our hands brushing again like they always
do. She pauses before we reach the steps.

I turn to look at her.

She leans in, not dramatically. Just close enough to feel her breath against
my neck. And finally, she whispers what I've been waiting to hear since that
morning in her kitchen.

"I love you."

Then she kisses me. Soft. Certain.

And just like that, the pitch becomes the beginning again.

.
---------THE END-------

Page 320 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌈Special: Morning, Eventually

🌈
Ink's hair is a mess.

Not in the sexy, shampoo-commercial kind of way, more like a bird nested
in it overnight and had a mild emotional breakdown.

She's wrapped in my hoodie, sleeves too long, one sock on, one sock off,
glaring at the ceiling like it said something offensive.

"You look like you lost a bet," I say from the couch.

"I lost sleep," she mutters, adjusting the hood over her face dramatically.
"Thanks to your fridge that sounds like a dying bird."

"It's vintage."

"It's haunted."

I stretch my legs across the couch and nudge her thigh with my foot. "Want
coffee?"

She groans. "Do I have to move for it?"

"Not if you say nice things about my face."

She tilts her head toward me, eyes squinting through the hood. "You're
alarmingly pretty for someone who can't grocery shop without forgetting at
least one major item."

"Aw. That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."

Page 321 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

She snorts. "I mean it with my whole heart."

I stand and head to the kitchen. Behind me, I hear the rustle of blankets and
bare feet padding lazily across tile.

She always follows me, even when she pretends she won't.

She hops onto the counter as I pour water into the kettle, then dangles her
legs like a bored schoolgirl waiting for recess.

"I like this," she says.

"What, my espresso technique?"

"No. This. You, me, not being in chaos."

"Give it time. I'm sure I'll trip over a saucepan and cause mild property
damage within the hour."

She smiles. "It's different now."

"Yeah?"

She nods. "It's quiet. But not the bad kind of quiet. The kind where you
exhale and nothing feels like it's about to fall apart."

The kettle clicks.

I pour the coffee into two mismatched mugs and hand her one. She wraps
her hands around it like it's sacred.

I lean beside her. She leans into me.

And in the quiet that follows, no thunder, no speeches, I know it's not the
storm I'll remember.

It's this.

Page 322 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

Her. Barefoot. Hoodie-clad. Bedhead and all. Looking at me like home isn't
a place.

It's just a person.

.
💜💜💜
sunyan

Page 323 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

🌈Special : The Fight Over

Nothing🌈

Book : Runaway Bride

Writer : Dara
Released : 22 September 2025
Copy : Sun Yan

It started with takeout.

Or, more accurately, with the lack of it. I'd forgotten to order dinner.

Again.

"You said you'd do it."

Ink said, standing at the kitchen counter with that tone, the one where her
voice was calm but her jaw wasn't.

"I thought you were gonna remind me," I said, not looking up from my
laptop.

She blinked. "You want credit for being forgetful and defensive at the same
time?"

I closed the laptop a little harder than necessary. "I've been working all
day."

Page 324 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"So have I."

"You work in a reading pod with children who think Shakespeare is a brand
of fish sauce."

Her eyes narrowed. There it was.

I regretted it the second it came out. But I didn't take it back. Not yet.

She crossed her arms. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Make what I do sound small just because you're tired."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again.

"That's not what I meant."

"It is what you said."

Silence buzzed in the kitchen.

Ink stood completely still, her back to the fridge, hands curled around the
counter's edge like it was anchoring her in place.

I hated that I'd made her do that.

"You're right," I said finally. "That was shitty."

She didn't say anything.

I kept going. "Sometimes I don't know how to stop myself. I get tired and
petty and I throw elbows like it's a match."

"You don't have to win with me."

That hit harder than anything else she could've said.

Page 325 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

"I know."

"Then stop acting like I'm on the other team."

I looked up at her. She was still angry. But she hadn't walked out. That
meant something.

"I'm scared," I said.

That caught her off guard. "Of what?"

I ran my fingers through my hair. "Of getting used to this. To you. And then
messing it up so badly you don't come back."

She softened, but only a little. "You don't have to sabotage it before anyone
else can."

"Old habits."

"Well," she said, stepping closer, "unlearn them."

I nodded. "I want to."

She tilted her head. "You gonna kiss me now or do I have to threaten to
order pineapple pizza?"

I stepped into her space. She didn't move back.

I kissed her, soft at first, then a little harder, like I was saying sorry without
words.

She kissed me back like she forgave me, even if I hadn't earned it yet.

When we finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against mine.

"No more elbowing," she said.

"No more fish sauce jokes."

Page 326 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara

Sun Yan

We stood there in the kitchen, stomachs empty, pride deflated, hands held.

Sometimes love was a clean line.

Other times, it was two stubborn idiots learning how to fight better.

.
.
---------THE END-------
🌷🌷🌷🌷
Sun Yan

26 November 2025

Page 327 of 327 Runaway Bride by Dara