The tiny café on the corner smelled like vanilla syrup and fresh espresso, the kind of warm sweetness that always made you feel at ease. Sunlight spilled through the wide windows, brushing across the wooden table where you and Bang Chan sat with two iced lattes slowly sweating between you.

He tapped a pen against a glossy university brochure, eyebrows pulled together in deep concentration. “So,” he sighed, “is adulthood just filling out forms forever?”

You laughed. “You haven’t even started the application yet.”

He pointed the pen at you. “That’s because someone insisted we come here first. I thought we were going to relax.”

“You call this relaxing? We’re literally talking about the rest of our lives.”

Chan chuckled, the warm kind of laugh that made your chest feel lighter. “Okay, okay, fair point.”

The café buzzed softly around you. Milk steaming. Quiet conversations. The clink of cups. Chan tapped the brochure again, then glanced at you, his voice softer when he spoke.

“Honestly… I don’t care much where I go. I just want us to end up somewhere close. It’d be weird not having you around.”