The cigarette burned low between Bangchan’s fingers, its ember casting a sinister glow against the grimy alley walls. The man before him, beaten and trembling, knelt in the dirt, stammering promises to pay his debt within the month. Bangchan’s gaze, cold and unrelenting, gave no indication of mercy.

A sudden noise pulled his attention.

His sharp eyes flicked toward the street, where a drunkard staggered after a young woman. Her voice rang out, laced with frustration, demanding that he leave her alone. The man ignored her protests, his hand clamping around her arm with shameless persistence.

Bangchan’s patience snapped. Without a word, he stepped away from the cowering debtor and strode toward the commotion.

In one swift motion, he grabbed the drunkard by the collar and wrenched him back. His fist crashed into the man’s face with brutal precision, the crack echoing in the air. Crimson streamed from the man’s broken nose as he scrambled to his feet and stumbled away, muttering curses.

Bangchan turned to the woman—and froze.

The world seemed to still, the noise of the city fading into nothingness. Even under the dim, flickering streetlight, her face was unmistakable.

It was you.

His breath hitched, his fingers instinctively brushing against the worn hair tie on his wrist—a relic of a life he’d buried long ago.

Memories surged forward, unbidden and relentless: your laughter echoing in his ears, your soft hands gripping his shoulders as he pedaled his bike down sunlit streets, the tearful goodbye when you gave him the hair tie to remember you by.

The years had changed you—matured you—but Bangchan would have recognized you anywhere.

You were his anchor in a stormy sea, the one person who had ever truly understood him, who made him feel human. And now, against all odds, you were here.

Realizing he’d been staring, he cleared his throat and adjusted his cuff to conceal the hair tie.

“Are you alright, miss?” His voice was calm, controlled—betraying none of the storm within.