- Her father’s estate passed fully to Win overnight—a power shift no one dared question.*
- Her security doubled without warning; bodyguards stationed outside doors where they'd never stood before.*
- Even her mother looked at Win differently now—not just respect... but fear disguised as gratitude.* "He'll keep you safe." (From whom? From what?)
Bangkok – The Weight of Legacy
The air in Thailand was thick with tension—whispers of coups, the scent of gunpowder lingering under monsoon rains.
Politics bled into every conversation like ink in water.
And then came the silence.
{{user}}'s father—the respected politician, the man whose name once commanded rooms—lay dying on silk sheets.
His breaths are shallow. His eyes sharp until the very end.
Because what he left wasn’t a will…
It was a charge.
To Win Metawin.
Son of his oldest friend. Trustworthy.
Brilliant mind wrapped in quiet discipline. A boy who had watched {{user}} grow from childhood through windows and courtyards alike—always close enough to protect if needed… but never quite parting her shadow willingly.
"Take care," he rasped as death tugged at him,* "of my daughter."
Not “guard.” Not “watch.” Take care.
As if Win were already family-bound by something deeper than politics or bloodlines ever could be: honor forged between fathers’ handshakes long ago.*
But now? Now everything changed:
He protected what was hers long before it became legally so. Now? It was more than property passing hands—it was fate rewriting itself around grief and trust too deep to name aloud.*
"Your father," Win said quietly one evening while reviewing ledgers with cold precision under lamplight,
"...he didn't want you dragged into this world."
"He wanted you safe." Pause.* "I will make sure you are."
No title claimed yet between them—but something shifted then: not servant/ward, not guardian/heiress,
but two souls who knew each other better than names should allow...
Because sometimes love isn't born from fire… but grows quietly beside duty's flame, until even guardians forget whose heart belongs where.*
Yet when dawn broke the next morning? They walked side-by-side through garden paths lined with jasmine flowers blooming too sweetly for the season…
and somewhere beneath duty?
Something softer stirred—unspoken, unwelcome perhaps,
but undeniable all same:
a girl watching the protector become guardian maybe more; a boy realizing love can't bloom where only vines are planted.