The classroom felt the same.
That was the problem.
Same noise.
Same fans.
Same people.
Like nothing had changed.
Phuwin dropped his bag onto the chair and sat down, staring straight ahead.
"…This is so weird," he muttered.
Krit slid into the seat beside him. "What is?"
Phuwin gestured vaguely. "Everything."
Mali sat down on the other side. "That's not specific at all."
"No, like—" Phuwin frowned. "The world didn't even pause. Shouldn't it pause? Like at least for a day?"
Krit leaned back. "You want the entire country to shut down because you got dumped?"
"…When you say it like that, it sounds unreasonable."
"Because it is."
Mali snorted.
Phuwin rolled his eyes. "You're both annoying."
"Correct," they said at the same time.
A group of students passed by their desk, laughing loudly.
Phuwin glanced at them.
Then away.
"…Do I look different?" he asked suddenly.
Krit blinked. "What?"
"Like—can people tell?"
Mali tilted her head. "Tell what?"
"That I got dumped."
Silence.
Then—
Krit burst out laughing.
"OH MY GOD—"
"I'm serious!" Phuwin snapped, hitting his arm.
"That's not how breakups work!" Krit wheezed. "There's no 'just got dumped' face!"
"There should be!"
Mali tried to hold it in but failed, laughing too. "What would it look like?"
"I don't know! Something tragic!"
"You already look tragic," Krit said.
Phuwin gasped. "Wow."
The bell rang.
Class started.
Or at least—it was supposed to.
Because five minutes in—
Krit leaned over. "He's here."
Phuwin froze.
"…Don't joke."
"I'm not."
Mali glanced toward the door.
Then back at Phuwin.
"…He is."
Phuwin didn't turn.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
"…Okay," he whispered. "Okay. That's fine. That's normal. We go to the same school. Obviously he would be here. That's—fine."
Krit watched him. "You're talking too much."
"I'm not nervous."
"No one said you were."
"I'm not."
"Okay."
"I'm literally fine."
Mali reached under the desk and kicked his foot lightly.
Stop.
Phuwin shut up.
"Good morning, class."
Mr. Chai walked in, completely unaware of the emotional crisis happening in the third row.
"Take out your books."
Pages flipped.
Chairs moved.
Normal.
Too normal.
Phuwin finally—
slowly—
looked up.
And there he was.
Arthit.
Sitting two rows ahead.
Talking to someone like nothing had happened.
Like yesterday didn't exist.
Like that message didn't exist.
Phuwin stared.
Just for a second.
Then quickly looked down.
His chest felt tight again.
"…Wow," Krit whispered. "I don't like his face."
"You don't even know his face," Mali whispered back.
"I don't need to. I've decided."
"Shut up," Phuwin muttered.
Class dragged.
Every second felt longer than it should.
Phuwin tried to focus.
He really did.
But every time—
He kept noticing.
Arthit laughing.
Arthit talking.
Arthit being normal.
"…How is he okay?" Phuwin whispered.
No one answered.
Halfway through class—
A paper landed on his desk.
Phuwin blinked.
Looked at it.
Folded.
Krit nudged him. "Open it."
Phuwin hesitated.
Then unfolded it.
"If he looks back, don't look. Stay mysterious."
Phuwin stared.
Then slowly turned to Krit.
"…Are you serious?"
Krit grinned. "Trust the process."
Mali leaned over. "That's terrible advice."
"It's great advice."
"It's embarrassing."
"It's iconic."
Phuwin fought a smile.
"…You're both useless."
Another paper slid onto his desk.
This time from Mali.
"Ignore him. Focus on yourself."
Phuwin sighed.
"…You're both giving opposite advice."
Krit whispered, "Choose chaos."
Mali whispered, "Choose dignity."
Phuwin looked between them.
Then—
He wrote back:
"I'm choosing sleep."
He put his head down on the desk.
Krit choked on a laugh.
Mali covered her mouth.
Mr. Chai looked up. "…Is something funny?"
"No, sir," all three said at once.
After class—
Phuwin stood up quickly.
Too quickly.
"I'm leaving," he said.
"Where?" Mali asked.
"Anywhere that is not here."
Krit grabbed his bag. "We're coming."
"You don't have to—"
"We know," Krit said. "We want to."
Phuwin didn't argue.
The hallway was crowded.
Voices everywhere.
Too many people.
Too much movement.
Phuwin kept his eyes forward.
Don't look.
Don't look.
Don't—
"Phuwin."
He stopped.
Of course he did.
Of course.
Slowly—
He turned.
Arthit stood there.
Same face.
Same expression.
Nothing different.
"Can we talk?" Arthit asked.
Krit immediately stepped forward. "No."
Mali grabbed his arm. "Wait—"
Phuwin stared at Arthit.
His heart was loud.
Too loud.
"…About what?" he asked.
Arthit hesitated. "Just… talk."
Krit muttered, "Wow. Very specific."
Mali elbowed him.
Phuwin didn't take his eyes off Arthit.
"…You already said everything," he said quietly.
Arthit frowned slightly. "I didn't mean for it to be like that."
"Like what?"
"…A text."
Phuwin let out a small laugh.
There it was again.
That laugh.
"…Yeah," he said. "Well. It was."
Silence.
Students walked past them.
No one stopped.
Because to everyone else—
This was just another conversation.
But to them—
It wasn't.
"…I'm sorry," Arthit said again.
Phuwin nodded.
"Okay."
That was it.
Just… okay.
Arthit looked like he wanted to say more.
He didn't.
"…Take care," he said.
Then he left.
Just like that.
Again.
Phuwin stood there.
Not moving.
Not speaking.
Krit looked at him. "I still don't like him."
Mali was quieter. "Are you okay?"
Phuwin stared ahead.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…I think."
He exhaled slowly.
"…That felt worse than the text."
Krit nodded. "Yeah. That was bad."
Mali reached for his hand briefly. "You handled it well."
Phuwin shrugged.
"I didn't do anything."
"Exactly," Krit said. "Growth."
Phuwin rolled his eyes slightly.
But—
He smiled.
Just a little.
They started walking again.
Same hallway.
Same noise.
Same school.
But this time—
It didn't feel exactly the same.
"…I still don't understand love," Phuwin said.
Krit sighed. "No one does."
Mali nodded. "Especially not us."
Phuwin looked at both of them.
"…Good."
"Why?"
"Because if I was the only one confused, that would be embarrassing."
Krit gasped. "Wow. So we're suffering together?"
"Exactly."
Mali smiled.
"…That's kind of comforting."
For a moment—
It felt normal again.
Not perfect.
Not fixed.
Just… okay.
And maybe—
That was enough.
For now.
End of Chapter 3