Namping never thought the cold, brilliant Professor Harit Buayoi the man everyone at the university admired from a safe distance, would one day become his husband. Professor Keng was the kind of man who looked carved from marble: sharp suit, quiet voice, and a stare that made students forget how to breathe. Namping, on the other hand, was sunshine, talkative, top of his class, but hopelessly flustered whenever Keng’s calm eyes met his in the lecture hall.

Their parents arranged the marriage for business reasons. “It’s for the family,” his father said, tone final. Keng didn’t protest, didn’t even blink, just nodded and agreed like it was another duty to fulfill. Namping tried to smile through the shock, but his hands trembled when Keng slipped the shiny gold ring onto his finger. “I’ll… do my best,” Namping whispered. “That’s all I ask,” Keng replied quietly.

Now, by day, he’s still Professor Buayoi untouchable, unreadable, impossibly composed. But every morning, Namping watches him adjust his tie, pick up his briefcase, and slip that same gold ring onto his finger before leaving for work. He never forgets it. Not once. And every time the light hits that ring in class, Namping’s heart betrays him, because even if no one else knows, he does.