Chapter Text
Morning Light
The sunlight stretched lazily across Jane Anurak’s room, slipping past the thin curtains and touching her face with gentle warmth. Her alarm hadn’t gone off yet; she had woken naturally, as she always did, in the quiet rhythm she’d perfected over years of routine. Jane opened her eyes, stretched, and sat up on the edge of the bed, letting her bare feet brush against the cool floor. For a moment, she thought about how different her life could have been.
Six years old, running through puddles during a storm, leaving the orphanage behind after being bullied again… that was when Mae Nalinee found her, arms open, warmth and kindness that she had never known before. The memory was faint now, like a photograph in the back of her mind, but the gratitude lingered stronger than ever. Jane had a family now, a home, a rhythm, and that sense of belonging grounded her more than anything else.
She glanced at the small dresser beside her bed, the neatly folded clothes waiting for her, and the sketchpad stacked on the corner. Her fifth year of architecture was starting today. Not her first day of university—far from it—but the first day she would finalize her enrollment for the new semester. The thought of paperwork, course adjustments, and meeting professors usually filled students with anxiety. Not Jane.
She had grown comfortable with routines, with control over her own life. Four years had taught her how to navigate the campus, how to schedule long studio sessions, how to manage the stress of deadlines without panicking. Today was just another day.
Sliding out of bed, Jane stretched again and padded toward the small window. The streets below glistened with leftover puddles from last night’s rain. The air smelled faintly of wet concrete and blooming flowers from the nearby garden. A soft breeze lifted her hair, teasing her neck. She took a deep breath, letting the familiar scents settle her mind.
Breakfast
By the time Jane stepped into the kitchen, the aroma of toasted bread and fried eggs welcomed her. Nalinee, her adoptive mother, was at the stove, humming a soft tune that Jane had come to associate with comfort and home.
“Morning, Jane,” Nalinee greeted, sliding a plate of eggs and toast across the table. “I made your favorite—well, as much as I remember you like it.”
Jane smiled, taking the plate. “Thanks, Mae. You didn’t have to.”
Nalinee leaned on the counter, watching her daughter eat. “I know, but I like doing it anyway.” Her eyes flickered toward the small envelope tucked behind the spice jars on the counter—a secret she had kept for years, waiting for the right time.
Jane noticed the glance but chose not to ask. She was confident enough in the world to know some things weren’t hers to pry into. She took a bite of toast, the butter melting smoothly on her tongue.
“So, first day of enrollment. Excited?” Nalinee asked.
Jane shook her head with a grin. “Not really. I’ve done this before four times. It’s just… paperwork.” She laughed softly. “Though I’ll admit, it’s satisfying when the semester finally starts.”
Nalinee chuckled. “You’re such a serious student. Architecture has your heart, doesn’t it?”
“Always,” Jane replied, taking another bite. She could see Nalinee smiling at her fondly, and for a moment, she felt the weight of gratitude in her chest. Four years of support, patience, and love—they had grown together into a quiet harmony, and Jane cherished it.
After breakfast, she kissed her mother on the cheek. “I’ll be back before lunch. Don’t wait for me.”
Nalinee smiled, adjusting the apron on her shoulders. “Be safe. Don’t forget to take your umbrella; it might rain later.”
Jane nodded, grabbing her bag and stepping outside.
Walk to University
The streets were alive in the gentle morning light. Vendors were setting up stalls, bicycles wove through the pedestrian traffic, and the faint hum of cars echoed in the distance. Jane walked at her usual pace, backpack slung over one shoulder, sketchpad tucked carefully inside. Her eyes wandered, taking in the familiar sights of the city: the flowered garden on the corner, the mural painted by architecture students last year, the small café that always smelled like freshly baked bread.
She had walked these streets countless times, yet today everything seemed sharper, brighter, more vivid. Perhaps it was the promise of a new semester, or perhaps it was simply the clarity of her thoughts.
At the university gates, Jane paused briefly, adjusting her bag. She inhaled deeply, letting the crisp morning air fill her lungs. The campus was bustling—students hurrying to classrooms, the faint sound of laughter echoing down the halls. She moved through the familiar paths without hesitation, greeting acquaintances along the way.
Enrollment Day
The enrollment office was a hive of activity. Jane maneuvered confidently through lines of students, her documents already organized in a neat folder. She smiled politely at the staff, who recognized her from previous years.
“Ah, Jane! Fifth year already, huh? Time flies,” one administrator said, handing back her ID card.
“Seems like it,” Jane replied, tucking the card into her wallet.
She made her way to the lecture hall to check her schedule, glancing at the posted boards. Everything was orderly, familiar. The architecture studio, the design workshops, the materials lab—she knew them all intimately. A small smile tugged at her lips. She liked how grounded her life had become here.
Even amidst the busy campus life, Jane felt a sense of calm. She was competent, prepared, and independent. She was not nervous. Not for enrollment, not for assignments, not for deadlines. She belonged here.
Back at their home, Nalinee moved with quiet deliberation. Once Jane had left, she opened the hidden compartment beneath the counter. The envelope inside was worn at the edges, holding photos of a girl she had never had the chance to raise properly.
Kanya “Kao” Vichitwong, her biological daughter.
Nalinee traced the edges of the photos, eyes glimmering with unshed tears. The girl in the photos was older now, more confident, poised—but still unmistakably her daughter. Nalinee pressed the envelope to her chest for a moment, closing her eyes.
So much time had passed. So many circumstances beyond her control. Mae Supaporn, Kao’s grandmother, had torn their families apart years ago, leaving Nalinee with only memories and quiet longing.
She placed the photos back into the envelope and tucked it safely away, locking the compartment. For now, she had errands to run, groceries to buy, and the small business she managed. The world demanded attention, and secrets had to wait.
Late Afternoon –
The day faded into late afternoon. Jane returned home, her backpack heavier with paperwork and sketchbooks, the warm comfort of her apartment welcoming her. She called out a greeting, but Nalinee was already out, leaving Jane alone in the quiet living room.
She placed her bag down, sighed, and sank onto the couch, enjoying the silence. Life was simple. Life was ordinary. And she liked it that way.
But then… the sound of the doorbell shattered the calm.
Jane frowned. It was late afternoon, no expected guests. She glanced toward the door, curiosity piqued, a small pulse of unease creeping in. Slowly, cautiously, she rose and walked toward the door.
And there, on the other side, was a figure she had never seen before. Tall, poised, with an air of authority that seemed to fill the space even before the door opened. Jane’s heart skipped—not with fear, exactly, but with something entirely unfamiliar:
“Um… hello?” Jane said cautiously. “Can I help you?”
The girl’s lips pressed into a thin line, her dark eyes meeting Jane’s with a sharp, guarded stare. Before she could answer, a familiar voice called out from behind her:
“Kao?”
Jane and Kao both turned sharply. From the hallway behind the girl, Nalinee stepped into view, her arms clutching a small bundle of groceries.
Time seemed to slow. Nalinee’s eyes widened as she dropped everything with a soft clatter to the floor and stepped forward in a rush.
“Kao!” Nalinee cried, her voice breaking. She wrapped her arms around the young woman in a tight, desperate hug, burying her face in Kao’s shoulder. A single tear slid down her cheek.
Kao froze. Her body remained stiff, unresponsive, hands hanging at her sides. She didn’t move to hug Nalinee back. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of shock, restraint, and something deeper Jane couldn’t immediately identify.
Jane stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. Her heart raced. She had expected disruption, change, maybe even drama—but not this. The warmth and relief emanating from Nalinee collided with the cold stillness of Kao, and Jane didn’t know where she fit into this new, tense tableau.
For a long, heavy moment, the three of them stood there— Nalinee holding on tightly, Kao unmoving, and Jane caught somewhere between awe, confusion, and silent curiosity.
Finally, Nalinee pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Kao’s face, still trembling. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion.
Kao’s eyes flickered away, staring past her, almost as if the moment of connection was too much to bear. Jane could feel the weight in the room—the distance between mother and daughter, the history neither of them wanted to fully reveal yet, and the unspoken tension that would define their next interactions.
And just like that, Jane realized something that made her chest tighten: her life, as she had known it, was about to change forever.