Chapter 8: Curve Ball

-Fah's Struggle to Speak the Truth-

In recent days, Fah's thoughts had been in a constant state of turmoil. Every time she attempted to speak out, the words seemed to lodge in her throat. Beam's relentless pursuit of the "perfect match" pushed her one way, whilst her heart tugged her in an entirely different direction.

What frustrated her most was Beam's refusal to listen. Each time Fah tried to explain herself, Beam would cut her off, her excitement for an ideal pairing drowning out any attempt at honesty.

One afternoon, as the group assembled at their usual meeting spot in the canteen, Fah tried once more.

"Beam," Fah began, her voice tentative yet resolute, "there's something I need to tell you."

Beam didn't even lift her eyes from her phone, her fingers tapping away as she smiled. "Yeah, yeah, sure. We'll talk later. I'm in the midst of planning your date night with Phat!"

Fah's heart sank as frustration welled inside her. "Beam, this isn't about the date!" she insisted, striving to capture her attention. "I need you to listen to me."

But Beam quickly reverted to discussing the plans for the evening with Phat, her enthusiasm for the "perfect couple" ensuring that every word Fah spoke was drowned out by her unwavering vision.

Fah's exasperation mounted. Why couldn't Beam understand that she no longer wanted this? Why couldn't she see that Fah was no longer pretending?

-Phat's Discovery: The Flashback-

It had been an ordinary day on campus, the afternoon sun filtering through the trees as the group dispersed to attend their respective classes. Fah and Nara had lingered behind, speaking quietly as they strolled along the path near the old building. The campus was serene at that hour—only the distant sound of footsteps and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze could be heard.

Phat had been walking along the same pathway, lost in thought, heading to meet the others. He noticed Fah and Nara ahead, walking side by side, heads nearly touching and their soft laughter drifting in the air.

At first, it appeared to be an entirely casual conversation. However, as Phat drew closer, his gaze inadvertently fixed upon them, and he witnessed something that stopped him in his tracks.

Fah and Nara had ceased walking. They were looking into each other's eyes, their smiles gentle, with a shared understanding apparent between them. For a brief moment, Fah leaned in – and Nara did the same.

They kissed.

Time itself seemed to pause. Phat stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest. He had not intended to see this, nor had he anticipated it: Fah and Nara, together in a manner he had never expected.

Oblivious to his presence, Fah and Nara remained lost in their own world.

Phat's legs grew heavy and his stomach churned. He wished to look away, yet something kept him rooted to the spot. The reality of what he had witnessed was undeniable.

When Fah pulled away, a slight blush coloured her cheeks and her hand lingered close to Nara's. Nara smiled—a soft, sincere smile unlike any Phat had ever seen her give. Fah returned the smile, and for a brief moment, they simply stood there, connected by something deeper than friendship, something silent yet unmistakably clear to Phat.

He felt as though he were drowning, caught in indecision. He longed to call out, to ask what was transpiring, yet he could not. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away, his mind replaying the scene incessantly.

He could not pinpoint his emotions—whether it was anger, jealousy, or something altogether different—but one thing was certain: the moment he had witnessed would alter everything.

The following day, Phat behaved as though nothing had changed. He avoided discussing the incident, maintaining the same amiable demeanour with Fah as ever. Yet something was undeniably off; an invisible barrier separated them, and Fah could not help but notice it.

Later that week when they met, Phat's smile was there, but it lacked its former warmth. He was putting on an act, pretending that nothing had occurred, as if he had not seen Fah and Nara share that intimate, private moment. He wished to avoid confronting the truth buried within him, not wanting to risk losing her.

Sensing the growing emotional distance, Fah steeled herself to speak. Approaching Phat with a voice that trembled under the weight of her concealed truth, she ventured to break the silence.

"Hey, Fah," Phat said in a nonchalant tone, his smile failing to reach his eyes. "Beam's been going on about the plans for our date. I think it's a big step for us, you know, solidifying things."

Fah froze. He was still enmeshed in the carefully contrived illusion that Beam had built. Neither he nor Beam saw the truth.

She was ready to confess, but when she caught sight of Phat's familiar hopeful look, she hesitated. The thought of causing him pain made her pause. Instead, she offered a faint smile and said, "Yes, I suppose you're right. Let's do it."

Phat beamed, oblivious to the uncertainty in her voice. In that instant, Fah felt a deep nausea at the lie she had just uttered. The truth was slipping further away as she became ensnared in the facade.

-Fah's Parents-

As the days slipped by, Fah felt torn between two worlds—one she presented to the world with a forced smile and carefully rehearsed contentment, and another secret life with Nara, an existence filled with passion and uncertainty that she feared would shatter everything if exposed.

Her family had always been the bedrock of her existence. Raised in a home overflowing with love, where her mother and father cherished her unconditionally while nurturing lofty expectations, Fah was subtly pushed toward an ideal she felt obliged to embody. Yet beneath the surface, a restless yearning for personal freedom and true happiness stirred, a murmur she silenced in order to please those she loved. Each sacrifice came tinged with guilt, a small price for approval that suddenly began to feel unbearably heavy.

Her perceptive mother, always attuned to the unspoken, started noticing the shifts. The tension that clouded Fah's features when she returned late from outings with friends or the evasiveness that now lined her conversations spoke volumes more than words.

One quiet evening, as Fah prepared for another night out with her friends, the gentle hum of the radio accompanied her routine in the kitchen. Her mother's footsteps paused behind her as she approached with both warmth and worry interlaced in her voice.

"Fah," her mother said softly, her look a blend of care and concern, "I've noticed something's changed about you. You seem exhausted, not quite yourself ever since you started coming home so late. Is everything truly alright?"

Fah's heart raced, the familiar dichotomy of hiding deep inside threatening to spill over. Locked between honesty and deception, she found herself breathless by the weight of the truth. How could she confess that a part of her life was lived in secret, that every smile was a mask? Words failed her, and instead, her eyes pleaded silently with her mother, a mirror of conflicted emotions.

"It's okay to feel a bit lost, you know," her mother continued softly. "But remember, you're not alone. We want you to be happy, Fah. Don't push yourself to meet standards that aren't yours, no matter how much you think they define you."

A bitter twist of emotion choked Fah. She had spent so long catering to the demands of Beam, Phat, and Ton that her own desires had been drowned out—a truth that now came crashing down. "I'm trying to do what's best for everyone," she murmured, voice heavy with resignation, "but I'm beginning to lose sight of what's best for me."

Her mother's tender smile and reassuring touch barely eased the storm inside her. For the first time, Fah hesitated, wrestling with the realisation that she was sacrificing her own essence for the comfort of others.

-The Breaking Point-

That night, as Fah lay in her bed enveloped by shadows, her mind became a battleground of clashing voices. The duality of her existence—one of a dutiful daughter and another of a lover with Nara—gnawed at her relentlessly. The lies, the charade, and the constant internal conflict had reached a threshold; the burden of hiding was too immense to bear any longer.

Conflicted thoughts tormented her sanity: the fear of hurting Beam or Phat, the uncertainty of parental disapproval, and the desperate need for authenticity contending within her. What if exposing the truth would fracture her world irreparably? And yet, the thought of living a lie drew a deeper, more painful regret.

In the silence of the night, a single stubborn truth emerged from the tumult: her own happiness, even if laden with risk, was worth the chaos ahead.

The following morning, disturbed yet resolved, Fah rose with a determination edged by anxiety. The time had come to tear down the facades she'd built for years. She could no longer continue the masquerade—not with Nara by her side, not with her own heart in such conflict.

With trembling fingers, she dialed Nara's number, requesting a meeting at their familiar spot in the park—a decision that made her pulse race with anticipation and dread in equal measure. Public exposure seemed as hazardous as a secret scrawled across her soul.

Sitting on a weathered park bench, Fah's thoughts raced ceaselessly. What if someone saw them? What if their intertwined hands sparked whispers behind closed doors? Each moment was a collision of hope and terror until, finally, Nara emerged, beaming with a smile that both comforted and unsettled her.

"Hello," Nara murmured as their lips met in a kiss that felt like both a liberation and a betrayal of her former self.

In that fleeting embrace, the maelstrom of doubts softened, even if only for a heartbeat. As they broke apart, Fah's hand, still trembling, sought Nara's, and they moved to another bench, a temporary sanctuary.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Fah's voice trembled with raw emotion. "I can't keep living like this," she confessed, eyes searching Nara's for an answer to her inner conflict. "I'm tired of hiding us, of deceiving everyone, even myself."

Nara's nod was filled with sympathy and resolve. "I know it hurts, but I don't want you trapped in this lie anymore. I want you free—truly free."

"Thank you for understanding," Fah whispered when the words finally emerged, a blend of gratitude and lingering fear.

"I'll always support you," Nara assured, their eyes locking in a silent pact.

Together they sat, grappling with the repercussions of truth and the shadow of doubt that still clung to them. Tears welled silently in Fah's eyes as she mustered the courage to whisper, "I love you." The declaration, tender and vulnerable, was a promise despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Wrapped in a bittersweet embrace beneath the forgiving rays of the sun, Fah knew that while she was stepping into a realm of peril and vulnerability, it was a risk she had to take. Her truth, tangled and conflicted though it was, held the promise of liberation—a promise to live authentically, even if fear and doubt were her constant companions.

Later, as the thought of coming out to her family loomed large, the internal battle intensified. The nagging terror of rejection warred with the desperate need to be seen for who she truly was. For too long, she had hidden behind layers of pretense; now, she wished for nothing more than to strip away the facade and let her parents witness the complexity of her heart.

-At Fah's House-

Summoning every ounce of courage, Fah resolved to speak the truth at dinner that night. Seated together at the familiar table, the moment felt heavy with expectation. With a shaky inhale, she began, "Mother, Father, I have something important to share."

Their eyes, filled with both curiosity and concern, beckoned her to continue.

"I'm in love with someone," Fah declared, a tremor in her voice that betrayed the inner turmoil coursing through her.

Her father's serious gaze prompted, "Who is this person?"

"It's... it's Nara," Fah admitted hesitantly, the words hanging in the air like a fragile confession. A long pause engulfed the room as her parents absorbed the revelation. Finally, her mother asked gently, "And how long has this been?"

"About a year now," Fah responded, unable to meet their eyes, the conflict within her surging anew. Her father exhaled a long, shuddering sigh. "We had no idea," he murmured.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner," Fah pleaded, each word weighed down by regret and inner strife.

In a moment that felt surreal, her parents exchanged looks before her mother reached across the table to clasp Fah's hand. "We might not understand everything immediately, but we love you and only want your happiness," she reassured softly.

In that fragile exchange, the tidal wave of fear and conflict started to subside. All the internal battles that had raged within Fah suddenly seemed less insurmountable. Tears of relief and mixed uncertainty glimmered in her eyes as she whispered her thanks, still conflicted but relieved beyond measure.