I was lying on my bed, flipping through some spicy gay comics, completely immersed in the world of shirtless men, dramatic confessions, and steamy stares. It was a beautiful moment—me, my comics, and absolute peace.

Then my phone rang. Of course, it was Tan. I picked it up without even looking, still reading.

“Hello?” I said, eyes glued to a panel where the main guy was about to grab the other guy’s—never mind.

It was silent for a few seconds. I frowned. “Hello…?”

Finally, his voice came through, sounding like a ghost haunting my phone. “Winnnnnnnnnnn, what do I dooooo?”

I sat up, worried for a second. “What happened?!”

And then he hit me with it. “My love, my partner… he’s goneeeeeeee.”

I sighed so hard my ancestors probably felt it. “Tan, you’re talking like a ten-year relationship just ended. Come on, man, it was two seconds of love. Can you let it go already?”

There was silence again, I hope he isn't dead there. Finally, he muttered in the most defeated, dead voice, “I think you’re right. I should move on.”

“Good,” I said, relieved this drama was finally over. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Yeah…” he said.

The line disconnected, and I tossed my phone aside, already diving back into my comic. The tension was at its peak—the guy was about to kiss the other guy. But then my phone buzzed again.

It was a text from Tan. “What if I never find someone like him again?”

I groaned and buried my face in my pillow. This guy…

                                                                                          ***

At Dining Table...

Sigh... handling that guy, Tan, was a full-time job. The way he clings to his imaginary heartbreaks—unreal.

I hadn’t even managed to finish reading that intense scene in my comic properly! You know, the one where everything’s spicy, dramatic, and your heart’s doing a little cha-cha? 

Gone. 

Thanks to Tan’s never-ending drama. But somehow, I managed to let it go. I was happily munching my dinner, my mouth full of the heavenly taste of Khao Phat Kai. Let me tell you, my mom’s Khao Phat Kai is the world’s best simple dish. No debate. 

I sat there, blissfully lost in the flavors, when I noticed something weird. My mom… she was sneaking glances at me. Not once, not twice—constantly. It was like she had some big plan brewing, and I was the unsuspecting victim.

Still, I ignored it. I mean, why ruin dinner, right? But I could feel her eyes on me with every bite I took.

Alright, fine. 

I lost. 

I put my spoon down, looked at her, and asked, “Mom, you’ve been staring at me the whole time. Do I have rice on my face, or is there something you want to say?”

She blinked at me like I’d just caught her sneaking on my phone to check my LINE messages. “No, nothing. Eat, eat,” she said, waving her hand like she was innocent.

But I wasn’t buying it. “Mom,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her. “What’s going on?”

She sighed dramatically—like one of those actresses in a Thai lakorn—and glanced at Dad. Now, Dad knew exactly what she was about to say, but he just kept slurping his soup.

“Actually,” she began, her tone suddenly serious but way too calm for comfort, “there is something we need to talk about, Win.”

I nodded slowly, trying to stay cool. She took a big breath—so dramatic, like she was about to drop the most life-changing news ever. Then, out of nowhere, she grabbed my hand, gave me this ridiculously wide smile, and said, “I arranged your marriage.”

What.

Dad choked and started coughing, his soup spraying everywhere. Pim froze mid-bite, her spoon hanging in the air like a movie’s dramatic pause scene.

And me? I just… sat there. 

My whole body froze. 

My brain?

Oh, it was loading, loading, loading… buffering like it was on the slowest Wi-Fi connection in Thailand.

Marriage? ARRANGED?? ME??

I couldn’t even blink. Maybe I heard wrong. Yeah, that had to be it. Possible, right? Totally possible. My ears probably just malfunctioned, like an old karaoke mic.

I looked at her, trying to keep it cool, though I could feel my insides doing somersaults. “Mom, I think I heard something wrong. You were saying something else, and I just—”

But before I could finish, she cut me off, her voice as clear as a temple bell. “Oh no, Win. You heard it right. I did arrange your marriage.”

And just like that, you all know—I was doomed. 

Absolutely doomed. 

I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t move. My soul left my body for a quick vacation.

Still, somehow, I managed to croak, “Mom, what are you talking about? You know I’m gay, right? I can’t marry—”

She cut me off again, smiling like she’d just won the lottery at Wat Pho. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s a man.”

Wait, what?

I stared at her, my brain overheating like a motorbike stuck in traffic at Chatuchak Market during the Sunday rush. “So… you mean you’ve arranged my marriage… with a man?”

She nodded enthusiastically, her grin even wider now.

“You’re mean… I’m about to get married?”

Another nod. This time, her eyes had literal sparkle effects. I turned to Dad, my last hope. He was my lifeline, my one shot at dodging this madness. I silently begged him to step in, save his only son from this matrimonial ambush. 

But what did he do? 

He took a slow, deliberate sip of his soup, acting like I was a ghost. “Mmm… this soup is good,” he muttered, nodding to himself.

Seriously?

I whipped my head back to Mom, now clinging to my last shred of sanity like it was a life raft in a typhoon. “Mom… this is a joke, right? You’re joking. Right? Please say you’re joking!”

But no. She chirped back, her voice so bright it could outshine the neon signs. “Oh no, Win. Everything is settled! Let me tell you, your fiancé is super handsome. Soooo charming. You’ll love him. You’ll thank me later!”

Thank her later?

And...just like that...My brain officially crashed. It was over. Blue screen of death. I needed a restart… or maybe just a new life.