The exhilaration of their performance and the subsequent confession had left Pond and Phuwin on a high. They spent the following days wrapped up in each other, exploring their newfound relationship with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Their friends noticed the change, the way they seemed more in tune with one another, the lingering touches, the private smiles. For Pond and Phuwin, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them, and for a while, everything seemed perfect.
But perfection, as they would soon discover, was fleeting.
It started with something small—an offhand comment from one of Phuwin's classmates about a meeting he had missed. Phuwin had been so caught up in his time with Pond that he barely registered it at first, brushing it off as unimportant. But as the days passed, more comments began to filter through, whispers of a group on campus that was working to push back against some of the university's recent policy changes—changes that Pond had been heavily involved in as part of a student committee.
Pond had always been passionate about student rights and had spent much of his time advocating for changes that would benefit the broader student body. It was one of the things Phuwin admired most about him—his dedication, his willingness to fight for what he believed in. But as the rumors grew louder, Phuwin began to feel a knot of unease in his stomach.
He hadn't told Pond about the group—about the fact that he had been invited to join their meetings, about the discussions he had participated in. It wasn't that Phuwin disagreed with Pond's work; in fact, he respected it deeply. But the group's arguments had resonated with him in a way he hadn't expected, and he found himself torn between his loyalty to Pond and his growing belief that some of the policies needed to be reconsidered.
Phuwin had rationalized his involvement, telling himself that he was just gathering information, that he wasn't actively working against Pond. But as the group's activities became more focused, more targeted, Phuwin's silence started to feel like a betrayal. He knew he should talk to Pond, should tell him about the meetings, about his concerns. But every time he tried to bring it up, the words stuck in his throat, and the fear of what Pond might think, of what it might do to their relationship, kept him silent.
It all came to a head one evening, when Pond, frustrated and upset after a particularly heated committee meeting, began venting about the opposition he was facing. Phuwin listened, his heart heavy with guilt, as Pond talked about how difficult it was to make progress when there were so many people working against him.
"I just don't get it," Pond said, his voice tinged with frustration as he paced around the room. "We're trying to make things better for everyone, and all they can do is complain. It's like they don't even care about the bigger picture."
Phuwin wanted to say something, to offer a different perspective, but the words that formed in his mind felt like a betrayal. So he stayed silent, hoping that the issue would pass, that somehow it would resolve itself without him having to make a choice.
But Pond noticed the tension, the way Phuwin seemed distant, distracted. He stopped pacing and turned to face Phuwin, concern replacing the frustration in his eyes. "Is something wrong?" Pond asked, his voice softer now.
Phuwin looked up, caught in the intensity of Pond's gaze. He knew this was his moment—his chance to come clean, to be honest about everything. But the fear of what might happen, the fear of losing what they had just found, kept him from speaking the truth.
"No, nothing's wrong," Phuwin said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm just tired. It's been a long day."
Pond didn't seem convinced, but he didn't push. "Okay," he said, though there was a trace of doubt in his voice. "But if something is bothering you, you can tell me. You know that, right?"
